Title: Penniless
Chapter 12 of the Penny Series

Summary: Mmmm fighting foreplay.

Author: Meghan
Email: meghanreviews@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Sadly no...
Distribution: All places known to me in the link area of my Yahoo!
groups.

Author's Note: I was recently asked when UFS would be updated, I plan
to start focusing my energies into the Penny Series for now. Get it
done... if there is a lack of updates for the newest chapter its
because I am working on UFS in the background and will start posting
book four when this is done.

Story Note: Although Rehatha hasn't betaed this part she was a great
little nudge to get my musey rolling. So thank you Rehatha!

Feedback: Loved. Grin.

Haven't read up to ch12? check out Angel's Bath Towel Site or my
own... http://www.geocities.com/hugablkisses
 

When he had left her in his apartment he had gone to the local demon
haunts in an angry snit, both at her and at himself. All he had seen
was the color red when had announced that he was back in control and
had plans to be the new master of the city and vampire lineage line.

There had been an obscene lack of challenges to his claim. It had
made him feel deprived of a good fight, but as it was nobody wanted
to fight him and meet their death. Pity. Guess the soul didn't do
that bad in scaring the shit out of the supernatural population over
the Master. Dawn had been arriving then and many vampires followed
him to Tidel's lair to escape the harmful rays.

He could have returned to the apartment before then, but hadn't felt
like dropping by, at the time he had been so sure it was because she
might have stayed there instead of going to school. He knew that he
was lying to himself, but even now he preferred the lie. The irony
was that he was a seeker of truth and at the moment he was going in
circles of evasive truths. There was a truth clinging elusively in
his mind and he was chasing it like a dog chased his tail, the
proverbial prize that was damn hard to catch.

If he was honest with himself he could probably catch it.

Now would he be honest? That was the question. Snorting derisively he
looked around the lair imagining his tyranny over the fools looking
upon him in hope.

Remnants of anger laid docile in his veins waiting for something to
stir them to a head. The day had been completely tedious and dull. He
had been anxious for the sun to go down so he could cause havoc on
Sunnydale and leave presents for Buffy to find. Just so she'd know
she wasn't on her game in killing him among other things. That was of
course before the incident.

A newly created vampire had had the nerve to question him on how he
was planning to handle the slayer. Of course the poor fellow hadn't
known of his reputation but once a tremor of doubt began if it is not
squashed like a bug immediately, it would infest the whole lot of
brainless minions that followed him. The vampire had clambered on
about how awful his wife was, which pissed him off considering he
hadn't thought her awful at all. Merely a vexish creature, but that
was his prerogative. He was her husband.

However the prick wasn't and when he had degraded her in front of his
congregation, he had known what he had to do. He had to instill the
fear of God into the others by making an example of the soon to be
dusted subordinate. The slayer may kill them off in groves for all he
cared. She'd weed out the stupid and more potentially useless
vampires in his hoard. She may be the bane of all the underworld, but
she belonged to him and he wouldn't tolerate their ridicule of his
mate.

That little bit of news shouldn't have been a shock to the demonic
world, but for some reason it had been because they all thought it
was a phase. Little did they know that blood is skin deep and
obsession much deeper and harder to get rid of. You could scrub until
the end of the world as hard as you like, but there was no way you
were ever going to get it out.

No way you could truly free yourself until you played out the role it
wanted you to bend to. And when it does fade you will always wonder
why you were ever infatuated with the obsession that had controlled
your very existence to that point. However unlike any of the other
objects of his affections, he doubted that Buffy would leave his mind
or her position under his skin any time soon.

Which was why the gathered vampires' lingering doubts had pissed him
off so easily. Did they think it was allowed to remark about her,
when she was so much more worthy of his attentions then they? How
could they believe that they were permitted to trash her name in
front of him and swap crude innuendo? Didn't the death he had so
gruesomely delivered the old master mean anything to them?

Obviously not.

The dumb shits were still bickering subtly throughout the throne room
of Tidel's lair. His lair.

Standing up in one fluid agitated motion, he rose above the mass of
bodies below. A sudden hush fell upon the room as expectant faces
lifted towards him in hopes he would solve their local slayer
problem. In a few succinct words he told them that the slayer was his
mate and any problems he would take care of personally.

"She is my mate, nobody is to fight with her but me."

He would not tolerate any body fighting her.

"Do not create more minions without my expressed approval. The
cemeteries must be quiet for my encounters with her."

He had also stated calmly through concealed anger that if he heard of
anything bad said about the slayer he'd get to the root of the
situation and…

Stepping up to the subordinate who had started all this, he ripped
the demon's spinal cord from the flesh of his neck. As he let his
words trail off he watched everyone watching the vampire crumble to
the floor without so much as a whimper. Dropping the spine, he rubbed
his hands on his dark slacks so the blood wouldn't dry in the grooves
of his palms.  He looked around to see if anyone dared challenge him,
and seeing not even the slightest hint of movement he nodded and
stepped over the twitching body lying on the ground before him.

He went towards the direction of the sewers, and stalking down the
sewage tunnel he headed back to his apartment ensured that his
bidding would be adhered to. Tonight he had heard that Spike and Dru
had left the country by boat through the dockyard in Los Angeles. The
news had been well received, having no childer to contend with would
certainly make life easier for him. The vamp's name who had delivered
such wonderful news was Makalo, which did imply that he had African
roots somewhere in his original blood. He was a pale black, from lack
of sun and not enough blood. The right hand man's eyes were a fierce
brown  that always seemed ready to freeze you under its immediate
glare.

That's why he had been placed into second in command because of his
attitude and go-getter style of doing things. Oh and the fact that
Makalo feared him so much was another point in his favor. He knew the
guy wouldn't do anything to cross him. Confident that Makalo would
keep things working properly he lifted the manhole that lead into the
small breaker box closet in his basement. Leaving the room, he
crossed the hallway to the door that led to his rooms, coming to an
abrupt halt before the door at the sight of an unexpected visitor.

From his visitor's expression it seemed that Dominick knew what had
happened, the smarmy bastard had the nerve to call him on his bluff.
There had been this one sided conversation the minute he had come
back to the apartment. It seems he saw her leave in a fitful torrent
of tears, not that that observation helped ease his conscience.

Conscience? Fuck, he wasn't soft or cute or cuddly. He was a vampire
other vampires feared to cross which Dominick proved so nicely when
he had shifted countenance and attacked the slimy prick. The nerve of
the French bastard to tell him how to handle his woman. He should be
lucky he wasn't dust right now.

An hour later in his slayer's room, the covers shifted under his
weight, their soft noise full of sadness. The room echoed it as
plainly as the tears drying on his wife's face. He knew he went too
far, and part of him wanted to take back everything he had done from
the moment he had left her heated folds, and just as perversely he
felt he did the right thing to save himself. The cost seemed too high
though, he thought forlornly gazing down upon her troubled sleeping
visage.

Damn it was those stupid unexplained troubling emotions again… what
the hell!

An instant later rage boiled in him demanding for violence. To hit
something, to hear death pounding at the door in glee, he wanted to
feel like he could walk away from her without regrets. He couldn't,
he knew that but he still wanted to be able to do that. Guilt clawed
through him when she whimpered and tossed the sheets aside when she
shifted positions in her sleep. This wasn't what he wanted…

Hell he didn't know what he wanted, but it sure as hell wasn't this…

He was tired of victims, for once he wanted an equal. Someone who
could be as ruthless, as vicious, as stubborn and cruel as he. It was
his nature to rebel and fight, to cause pain and mayhem and he wanted
that in his mate… not this crushed little girl who crumbled under the
heat of words he hadn't meant. Not truly, not really.

Oh damn.

He wanted to win victory over the soul that held too many victories
over him. There had been a time when he fondly recalled the soul. It
was callow and cruel, with lusts and passions similar to his own.
Building blocks of his personality. The Scourge showed no pity
because there had never been any to begin with. Only one drunken
clout of a parent who deserved the death he so freely given with a
song in his heart. Liam had been too young to recall his mother and
sister who had died from pneumonia one cruel winter that left him
alone in the clutches of a bitter man.

This time though, he knew something was different. Couldn't point a
finger at it, and couldn't tell you what it was, but he knew.
Whatever the hell it was, it was something that caused him to leave
his regular pattern of behavior. Had to be linked with those damned
feelings too, whatever the hell they were.

Maybe he was insane and legitimately certifiable.

No that wasn't it, didn't sound right.

With a long drawn out sigh, he focused on the small figure before him
again.

Tomorrow he knew her mirror would reflect dead eyes, void of the spit
fiery appeal he had seen before he crushed it with a few careless
words. It was contradictory after all, he wanted her to fight him and
still wallow in misery and pain. Something was seriously wrong with
him because he couldn't wait to see if she would triumph and leave
him feeling at peace…

If she won, a real relationship could grow between them.

Until then though her weakness would be his soul.

The one he did not have and did not want.

Looking at the colorless wall, he shook his head not comprehending
the gnawing pit gurgling in his stomach. Something possessive and
caveman like was welling in every fiber of his being that he hadn't
noticed there before. He knew her too well to know that she wouldn't
like his possessive nature, would probably disdain the marriage union
that they had and if she so much as looked at any guy besides Xander
or Giles he'd kill the boy.

Buffy stirred again beside him, kicking her feet lightly against his
thigh thinking he was her sheets. Mewling her distress she curled
back towards him shoving at the slacks that he was wearing. Carefully
he reached a hand out to softly stroke her parted lips hearing her
breath hitch at the light touch. He wanted her to think of him when
she woke, to cry her distress at the betrayal of her body to become
aroused by his touch. To punish her for falling in love with the soul
and to hurt her with his lovemaking like he had hurt her with his
words.

He leaned down kissing her petal soft lips, brushing them as his lips
swept back and forth across them. His mouth lingered in the middle of
her plump bottom lip before gently taking it between his teeth.
Scrapping his teeth lightly on the soft inside tissue he captured her
whimper with a gentle plundering of her mouth. Pulling away slightly,
he rested his weight on the mattress, holding himself above her as he
gave into the urge to have her want him and his touch.

Moving down he kissed the underside of her jaw drawing a half hearted
attempt to push away his ticklish mouth. With a smirk he continued
downward lapping at the soft mounds of her breasts about the tank
top. Wetting the cotton he trapped her aroused nipple between the
sharp edges of his teeth. She shifted beneath him, her arms coming to
rest on his, her fingers curled into the leather of his duster at the
bend of his elbows as she arched into his touch. She cried out softly
from his sweet torture to the sensitive peaks, she whimpered arching
her sleeping form against him.

He suckled hard with long pulls of his mouth as his hands swept over
her cotton clad his. Peeling the fabric down her legs he kissed his
way across to the other neglected breast leaving the other straining
in a silent plead for attention. As he removed her tiny undies, his
fingers dipped into her dripping wet folds, and at his first touch to
her swollen labia, she moaned the air catching in her throat her body
twisting trying to capture every escaping pleasure.

With his mouth he nibbled along her thighs keeping a steady rhythm
with his long elegant digits pumping within her dripping core. Her
legs parted to grant his mouth access to those slick nether lips. He
imitated his earlier kiss to her other lips as he brushed his warming
mouth to her other lips, he brushed his warming mouth to her parted
petals. Sipping her sweet nectar he breathed in her newest scent of
plumeria that escaped from her hot skin.

Her vaginal muscles fluttered around his fingers as her moans
escalated. She thrashed against him at his taste of the jewel nestled
within her blooming flower. Warm spills dribbled in hot stickiness
down his slender fingers and he pressed himself to her thigh. With
his teeth he drew a strangled cry from her twitching form as he
nipped at her bundle of nerves. A soft moan spilled from him as her
plentiful juices flowed down his tongue in long full swallows. Her
vagina clamped harder hampering his entrances and exits trying to
keep him within her grasping heat.

She came in her sleep on a low husky scream with another hot release
of moisture against his lingering linguistic strokes. He heard her
sigh as he stifled a groan. Ignoring his throbbing penis he pulled
away from her with great reluctance. Her sleeping form curled groping
for the sheets she tossed from her over heated body. In an act of
unforeseen tenderness, he grasped the edge of the sheet and covered
her from the cool elements, before slipping away from her enticingly
ravished form and out into the night air.

Whistling jauntily, he snapped his fingers together as he prowled the
midnight streets back to his apartment. She would wake up and think
of him because of the dried stickiness of her passion would outline
the activities he had bestowed upon her innocent body during the
decadent shadowy dance of the night. Twisting his neck, he popped a
crick within the muscles before rolling his shoulders to relieve the
tension. 

Light spilled from an all night convenience store near the darkened
Starbucks. His hunger whetted at the sight of the pretty shop girl,
he slipped inside. The nearer aisles provided cover as he eyed her
luscious form from thick eyelashes. The dark make up and green
uniform clashed horrifically. Her eyes snapped upwards and he
suppressed the urge to laugh, she had one of those nose piercings
he'd never understand.

What happened if she got a cold or sneezed? Also she couldn't very
well give a man a invigorating blow job without it getting stuck
somewhere dangerous requiring painful extraction. Of course he'd
learn that from someone else's experience, thank the Lord. Mocking
the cross sign over his groin, he smirked his infamous womb melting
smile at the ice queen glaring at him. Without paying attention, he
grabbed something from the shelf and sauntered over to the counter
with provocative rolls of his hips.

Setting it down on the counter, he waited for her to ring it up his
eyes never leaving the pulse strumming steadily at the base of her
throat. Pulling out his wallet, he leaned against the counter with a
casual charm that had scores of women falling at his feet. One of her
eyebrows just quirked up at him as she smacked her gum incessantly. A
frown marred his brow as he waited for the telltale ding of the
object being rung up. He could hear the cunt's heart rate beating
faster so he wasn't worried about his effect on her.

"Want me to come over there and help you with that?" He drawled
glancing down at her hand holding the electronic beeper.

Her lips quirked as she glanced down at the object he had brought to
the counter for her to ring up. "Is there something you want to tell
me?"

"Why would I need to explain myself to you?" he asked eyeing the
pregnancy test without showing the akin horror he felt at having
actually picked one of those take home things up. You'd think he got
his mate pregnant. Not that that wouldn't do wonders for the rumors
of his virility.

"What's you're wife going to think about that Mister if you come over
here?" the clerk asked sardonically, snapping her gum once more.

Flinching at the sound, he held a hand up and carefully walked around
the countertop to the girl. She was backing away with false
demureness, pretending to be coy. Without a hint of courtesy he
stepped into her space. One finger traced the delicate line of her
throat, leaning in to whisper at her ear. "My wife is home, but we
are here. Now keep quiet your boss lives upstairs. Later we can send
the video from our fucking to my wife. Just imagine the look on her
face when she sees what I plan to do to you…"

"Better get a pack of condoms cause I ain't gonna get pregnant like
your missus." The girl said sweetly, cracking her gum again.

A sneer trembled on his upper lip, as he watched the punk-wanna-be
chew with her mouth open. "Ah but I don't plan on needing to use it."

"Oh really Mister?" She grabbed his cock in a firm grasp, the next
instant his fangs were in her throat even as he yanked her sordid
touch away from his body. Her shocked gasp fell silently from her
parted lips as he drank down her blood. It was tainted with her
pessimism towards life giving it an aftertaste that lingered bitterly
after each swallow.

When the blood whetted his appetite, he dropped the lifeless body to
the cold linoleum picking up his purchase before facing the glass
doors of the refrigerators. He saw in the first one by the cashier a
tub of roses. Distracted by the thought of presenting his mate with a
gift of death he had forgotten the fine art of wooing. Shaking his
head at his own stupidity, a satisfied smile crossed his lips as he
opened the casing to pull out the only long stem tangerine rose.

Lifting the rose to his nose, he breathed in its musky scent and
vowed one day to bring Buffy a true rose clipped from the bush.
Something he had planted and grown from his own tender attentions.
Like she would from his tutelage into the woman she would become. He
knew just how to start her reception into his world of past ideals
and ethics. Her independence would be tweaked so that she became
slightly dependent upon him but not so much he crushed her
individuality.

She was the slayer and having the slayer remain mostly how she was
would prove that he needn't force her to become an integral part of
his life and liege, but that she'd willing do it for him. Now that
would be something memorable. A slayer the lap dog of a vampire. Nice
change from what had gone before with that mangy soul of his.

At his thoughts, he shook his head and mounted up the tree by her
window with a leap.  He paused on the branch directly parallel to her
window arching his neck to the right to look in on her bedroom. Her
bed was empty he noted with a frown.  Limply holding the gift in his
hand, the tangerine bud eyed the ground wearily as he grabbed the
ledge of her window to pull himself upright onto the roof. He peered
into the glass and spied her sitting stonily at the edge of her
rumpled bed.

A curtain of blond hair kept her face hidden from view. She was
sitting so still he wondered if she had been frozen in place until he
heard her ragged breathing. Carefully placing the rose on the sill,
he arranged the white bow before easing away from her line of sight
had she bothered to look up to glimpse him sitting outside her window.

Tapping twice on her window, he left his gift and backed off. Easing
his way onto the tree limb, he tried to keep as much of her room open
to his gaze. As the moments lengthened he scowled wondering what she
was doing remaining in her sitting position. He bit his lip drawing
blood and as if she could smell it, her head snapped up with a
furious glare, her hazel eyes frosty with embittered passion.

If she noticed his apology she didn't show it. Snubbing both it and
him, he watched angrily as she stood up and left the room. A light
shone under her door and he ponder briefly on whether or not to slip
into her sanctuary. When he would have clambered back onto the roof
the front door banged shut with a loud disgruntling defiance to the
silence of the neighborhood.

Noting with interest on how she didn't look in any direction but
immediately took off had him slipping in behind to stalk quietly. The
streetlights glowing in soft muted rings along the sidewalk. Within
the shadows he followed her to the cemetery, seeing the exact moment
she pulled out a stake. The hunt was on.

Now all they needed was some horror film vampire or zombie to crawl
out of its grave convulsing with renewed life.

She called him out of hiding when her back was turned to him saying
his name with considerable distaste. Not the soft breathy tone of a
girl falling in love for her first time. That sounded jealous he
thought with a sneer more determined to brush off her words aimed to
hurt him for his own self defense.

"Did you sleep well Buffy?" he ventured knowingly, a mocking grin
quirking at his lips.

Her hallow empty laughter filled his ears as she turned to him. Her
eyes flashed animosity before going neutral as she prowled ever
closer to him, her lips pouting outward as she breathed, "You had
something else you wanted to drivel on about? Something you haven't
said before?"

His eyes held hers as he kept his ground allowing her to advance upon
him with her stake still held loosely in her fist. Raising a brow he
smirked delightedly at her telltale tightening of the fist. Closing
his eyes for a moment he breathed in deep her lingering ambrosia and
smiled smugly. His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes and peered
down at the irate beauty standing but an arms' length away from
him. "I see you got my message my wife," he drawled.

When he later thought about it he wouldn't be able to tell you
exactly what happened that had ended up with him being beaten like
some vermin a woman hits with a shoe or newspaper in attempts to kill
it. However as it was, he was staggering backwards with blood pooling
inside his mouth and his ribs aching like a kicked bitch. Defending
off her next attack he slammed her fist into the headstone bruising
her flesh as he held her stake hand immobile.

But she was quick he mused with pride when she landed a punch that
snapped his head back. Grinning wickedly at her, he started to parry
her attacks and land in a few punches of his own. Moments of useless
attacks and counter attacks had them making use of the scenery of one
of Sunnydale's landmark graveyards by jumping over stones, dodging
around trees, using mausoleums to shove each other into a hard wall.

It was a dazzling use of foreplay if he ever heard of one. Plus he
finally got that fight he was itching to have.

"Come now Buffy, if I wanted foreplay I would have stayed in your
bed. As it is this is starting to bore me as well, would you like to
surrender the fight?"

The figurative wind was knocked out of him as her foot swept
underneath his feet and he landed on his back watching the stars
multiply. His petite slayer knelt by him and grabbed his shirt
yanking him upright. The cold stone of a tomb met his back with a
thud as she transferred her grip to his hair hauling his head back,
as she held a stake to his throat. 

"I'm not your whore." She growled, slamming his head into the
stone. "Don't ever come to my bed again you bastard.  You're not my
love, you're just the pathetic demon that stole his body."

"I'm more to you than that," he choked perversely wanting her to
continue her first show of dominance. "I'm the demon that got your
rocks off twice now."

With a strangled cry, his blond vixen smashed her strong fist into
his face, breaking his nose. He laughed up at her, throwing her off
with a twist of his arms and stood shakily. Resting his hands on his
knees for a moment to regain his balance he whispered mockingly at
her, "Come now Buff you don't have what it takes to get rid of me. My
message reads loud and clear, but would you be so angry if it wasn't
true?" He laughed then seeing her body still.

Buffy smiled bitterly, surprising him with a hard kick him in the
groin.  Gasping he felt her hand go to his throat and looked up dazed
into her provoked ones. Her lips curled as she asked him coyly, "Did
you get mine?"

Something snapped, he thought distantly as he huddled on the ground,
rocking his abused penis. Covering it protectively he lifted his head
watching her back away slowly with her hands clenched around the cord
of his penny necklace. Watching her mouth, he connected her moving
lips to the words that were buzzing in his head.

"As for the other, just give me time."

She disappeared into the night, leaving him penniless and without
words…

-The End.-