Title: Breaking a Slayer 37-39

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.
 
 

Buffy curled into the embrace of her undead lover. Despite the haze of sleep in which she awakened, she knew several things. One. She was safe. She could feel it with every fiber of her being, despite the twanging of the Slayer sense caused by the close, no, *intimate,* proximity of a vampire.

Two. She was warm. That, despite being encased in cold arms. Hence the safety. Cold equaled Angel equaled safe equaled warm. Buffy wondered idly when that equation had surpassed seeming paradox to become truth. When had it become more real to her than anything Einstein or Euclid could have written? (God knows, nothing they'd written had mattered to her at all in high school!) That didn't matter. Nor that she hadn't even remembered their names back then. It was so. More fundamental than gravity. More meaningful than life. It simply was.

Three. She was loved. Loved despite pain inflicted and received; despite mistakes made and forgiven, despite deep-seated fears on both sides. She knew that Angel loved her more than life…more than unlife…more than death. That fact, above all else, governed his continued existence; controlled his actions; determined his behavior. He would act, and react according to that basic fact and that alone. Other factors came into play, certainly. But the bedrock upon which Angel based his existence was Buffy. She had finally come to realize that this was so. Far from freeing her, the knowledge tied her down in ways she could never have imagined. To be another's sole and soul reason for existing; to be that other's redemption in a very real and definitive sense was a crushing responsibility.

But Buffy handled crushing responsibility daily. She had since she was 15. She was, in fact, Called to do so. So she turned, with a loving smile, to her undead lover and kissed him with a sweetness made all the more poignant for its very discernment; its frisson and needful brevity. She cuddled into his powerful frame knowing full well how little time they had left before he must leave her yet again. Knowing that she must watch him walk away…again. And knowing that for him, as well as for her, that the choice was made far before they ever reached it today.

*

Spike stood in the doorway and gazed at the lovers entwined before him. Jealousy threatened to overwhelm him, calling his demon to the fore with violent hatred for the very ones who he longed to join. He was damned if he didn't wonder who he envied more. Buffy was as enticing to him as always. Her tiny frame called to him to take her, to try to dominate her, to thrust himself deeply within her and take/be taken by her, master/be mastered by her until he was consumed within the conflagration of her heated depths once and for all.

But Angel…ah, his sire was magnificent. His sleepily rampant body was a wonder of raw male power. Spike longed to submit to the force of that ever dominant personality at the same time that he wanted to force Angel to bow before him just this once. The clashing desires warred within him, tossing him into a maelstrom of contradictory longings that could never truly be satisfied.

He stalked slowly into the room, unbuttoning his jeans and stripping them from him abruptly, intent on forcing his sire to bow before him in the sight of their mate; or conversely, tempting their mate to bow to him before his sire. But it was not to be, at least, not this time. Angel glanced up at him from under hooded eyes and growled as Spike approached and the Childe within him responded automatically, bowing before the Sire and creeping forward more hesitantly than before.

Angel growled, low and guttural in his throat and Spike replied with a growl of his own. Buffy moaned, sleepily in response as their growls twinged somehow in the twin scars on her neck. She reached a tentative hand up to the newer scar that Spike had left, but before she could reach it, he was there.

Spike laved his Mark with ferocious intensity, feeling the bond to Buffy pulse with every beat of her powerful heart. He sucked lightly at the scar and felt her heat beat faster beneath him. The power, *Gods and Giants!* he swore, only then realizing he hadn't spoken aloud. The power of that predator's heart within her! It pounded beneath his tongue as if it would burst its bounds and flood him with blood in an instant. He couldn't resist its call. His fangs dropped, aching with need and longing for his mate and he thrust them deep into her neck with a sigh of desire.

*

Angel had never felt this way before. The Mark he had left on Buffy's neck had been made more by Angelus than by him. He'd been too far gone to the poison of Faith's arrow to control the demon inside him at that point. And Angelus had always wanted Buffy. Unable to have her, he'd chosen to destroy the world instead. Given the chance to taste and Mark her, Angelus had done so in an instant, changing Angel's world forever.

Buffy had no idea, to this day, what had happened that afternoon. Angel had been appalled at the consequences of the action of his demon when he'd realized what he'd done. After he'd rushed Buffy to hospital and been rejected…again…by her friends, he'd returned alone to the mansion, to ponder the egregious wrong he'd inflicted upon the woman he loved more than unlife itself.

A Mark was infinitely more than ownership. A Mark tied a vampire and human together in ways that were intrinsically powerfully, yet varied as uniquely as each love varied from person to person. Angel would never have presumed to Mark Buffy (though he'd longed to do so from that first kiss, when his demon had surfaced and he'd tried and failed to hide his face, his true face, from her).

He longed, more than anything, to abandon himself to this moment. He was caught in his own mind as he imagined what it would be like…if he only could…for a minute…let go…

*Angel woke in a haze, unsure of where he was. Safe. He was safe, He knew, with a certainty that was rock solid. Warm. He was warm in tiny arms that surrounded him. Ah, yes. Buffy. He was with Buffy. He smiled and snuggled into her, nestling even closer to the tiny, hot form that threatened to burn him to ash. He groaned in response to her sensual movement and she wriggled again, rolling her hips seductively against his hardness.

With a growl, Angel flipped her to her stomach, pressing against her in one dominant thrust. He grasped her neck with teeth that couldn't seem to form, shifting with sharp pricks of pain between blunt and biting with each of his unnecessary pants. He struggled to control himself, a losing battle with her so warm and wanton beneath him. His cock pressed desperately against the warm wet depths calling to him and for his unlife, he couldn't think of a good reason not to enter. He began pressing urgently forward into his mate and she rocked her hips back into him, helpless in a haze of just-wakened passion.

Angel growled with longing and pressed further into the inferno of heated wetness from which he'd been banned for so long. He felt the head of his cock slide into her achingly tight opening and groaned in pleasure as the sensation threatened to unmoor his soul from its bearings once again. She was heat and wet, she was a molten bed of lust and love tangled together in a tiny powerful body that he could never, ever get enough of.

Suddenly, without warning, he was tackled from the side, ripped from his mate and rolled off the bed to tumble in a tangle of white flesh to the floor. He struggled, but Spike rolled with him, pinning the larger vampire beneath him with sheer fury. "Have you lost your bloomin' mind? D'you want to kill us all again, Sire? Just give me the heads up an' I'll get the fucking stakes myself," he snarled.*

*Gods, even in my dreams he takes her away from me! Yes,* Angel thought, ruefully. *That's exactly what would happen. Either Spike would have to save your ass…*again,* or you'd condemn us all to hell because you can't keep the damn thing in your pants for more than five minutes at a time around Buffy. Better far that you leave her. She'll understand why. If I stay, this can only result in destruction. Angelus wants her, I want her. It's only a matter of time until I give in. Hell, I want to give in now. It might almost be worth it. Maybe if she would just sleep with Angelus…NO! What am I thinking? No! That would be wrong. Besides, I'd be gone anyway, right? Very, very wrong. Bad Angel!*

Then he looked up, awakening to the scene before him. Spike was sucking tenderly on Buffy's neck and his mate, gods, she was writhing beneath him. His hand was on her, fingers working in her streaming pussy as she rode it, shuddering in ecstasy as he plundered her wantonly. Angel growled low in his throat at the sight, unsure whether he wanted to beat Spike for daring to touch Buffy so intimately or fuck him for looking so delectable while he did it. *She* certainly didn't seem to be objecting, he noted jealously. *She* was moaning his childe's name as she came, again.

Buffy couldn't believe the sensations Spike was wringing from her body with his fangs and fingers. He'd barely taken any blood at all from her, she didn't feel weak in the slightest, no, she felt…amazing! Shudders of pleasure shook her slight body from head to toe as Spike scissored his fingers deep inside her, stroking the muscular walls of her cunt as she spasmed around him uncontrollably. Suddenly, his cool mouth was joined on the other side of her neck by the unmistakable touch of Angel's. He sank his fangs into her heated skin gently, the slight pain of the sharp teeth almost instantly transmuting to pleasure with her nearly instantaneous orgasm.

Angel sipped at her slowly, timing his sucking with Buffy's bursts of pleasure. He could taste each wave as it rippled through her tiny body and the delight flavored her blood like ambrosia. Angelus had loved to flavor his blood with pleasure and pain, preferably together, and it had been so very long since Angel had savored the taste of blood spiced with such a delicate yet powerful bouquet as Buffy's pleasure. He rolled each sip across his tongue like the connoisseur that he was, delighting in the amazing taste of each drop. He and Spike were both moaning their own pleasure now, as Buffy's blood and the bonds between them pushed them closer to their own climaxes.

Without a word, Spike laved the tiny holes of his Mark closed, then pulled his hand from the Slayer's pussy and leaned over to eat her, pushing her legs as far apart as he could with hands still shaking from the pleasure of her blood. He lapped at her downy cunt, growling with delight at the scent and touch of her before burying his head between her legs.

Buffy shrieked at the twined sensations of cool mouths sucking her. Angel still lapped at her neck, pulling in long slow sucks from her throat while Spike, GOD! Spike was eating her cunt as if she was his last meal on earth and he was determined to pay it proper respect. Angel toyed with her breasts, twisting and tugging on her nipples until she moaned in pleasurable pain, unable to tell if it hurt because it just felt so damn good.

Spike was finger fucking her again while he fluttered his tongue (god, his tongue!) across her clit with infinitesimal movements that seemed to barely touch down, yet excited every nerve ending there. He pushed another finger into her sopping cunt, was that four now? and she pushed down against him, riding his hand as if it were his cock, grasping it with her powerful muscles as she came against him. He groaned and thrust his hand up against her, moving his fingers in time with his thrusts.

Spike couldn't believe the strength of Buffy's hips as she clutched him when she came. Damn near broke his bloody hand, she did! He wanted to fist her. He folded his thumb against his palm and waited for her to push herself down on him again. As she did, he sucked her clit into his mouth, pulling on it and fluttering it with his tongue in the way that she seemed to like so much while he pushed gently upward with his hand. Her cunt ate him up like she was gonna swallow him whole, the tight hot depths sucking him into the inferno within.

Buffy screamed as Spike sucked her and she felt him moving inside her with more fingers than ever before. It felt…amazing. He stopped moving when she screamed, apparently afraid that he'd hurt her and she rocked against him, trying to get him to move again. That was when she realized that he had his whole hand inside her. Then she got afraid.

Angel could feel her tense up and, looking down, realized the cause. He also knew that she hadn't tensed before, so it wasn't that Spike had hurt her. He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her, hard, plundering her mouth with his cool tongue, drawing her own into his mouth until she was gasping for air and completely unable to think about anything other than how good she felt.

Spike began lapping gently at Buffy's clit, which was now hiding back under its hood. As he licked softly at the tiny hidden bundle of nerves, he began twisting his hand ever so slightly back and forth. He didn't move it in or out yet, simply twisted slightly to tease the muscular walls surrounding it. He stroked those walls with his long, sensitive fingers, searching out every bit of feeling that he could coax from Buffy as he began sucking ever so slightly on the clit that was now peaking from under the hood.

Buffy couldn't believe the sensations that were rocking her body as Spike continued his carnal assault on her senses. She'd known that her lovers had centuries of sexual experience but it had never truly occurred to her what exactly that meant before now. *This…this is…extreme…but, ooooh, um, ah…what was I thinking?*

Spike was now moving and turning his hand, still completely within Buffy's body, but pulling down to the mouth of her cunt so his hand stimulated all of the nerve endings at the opening before moving back in where the Slayer muscles were concentrated. She was quivering in what appeared to almost be convulsions, moaning and sighing and pleading with him incoherently for more. The power he felt from hearing her plead with him, HIM, for her pleasure was heady indeed. Spike leaned over and sucked her fully engorged clit into his mouth as he moved his hand in her faster now, fisting it while he twisted and turned it as he forced her into orgasm after orgasm with his fangs and tongue on her blood-filled clit. She exploded in waves and he rode her with his mouth, fucking her with his hand and sinking his fangs into her. He drank her pleasure until she passed out from coming so hard…then he finally withdrew his slender hand from her wet, heated depths.

Angel was on him in the heartbeat that neither of them had, pining the smaller vampire to the bed below him. Angel ravaged Spike's mouth with brutal kisses, muttering guttural endearments to his childe before grabbing the hand with which he'd fucked Buffy and lapping up her juices. Spike moaned at the sight of Angel's hungry mouth and golden eyes as his sire hungrily enveloped his hand in his cool mouth, sucking each finger clean with sensual pulls of his powerful jaws. Angel kissed the palm of Spike's hand until the younger vampire squirmed under him, then laughed sensually and rolled to the side, pulling Spike with him.

Angel forced Spike's head down to his cock and Spike enveloped him in one quick motion, sucking his sire obediently into his cool mouth. He lapped at the precum dripping copiously from the velvety tip of Angel's huge cock, dipping his tongue into the hole there and teasing his sire until he was cuffed for his insolence. Angel flipped him abruptly and entered him with one brutal thrust coated with only the moisture from his own mouth. Spike didn't even mind, he was so hot and ready from fisting the Slayer. He arched back into his sire's cock, growling as Angel reached around him to caress his desperate, aching dick. They ground together violently, the tenderness they occasionally demonstrated to each other now absent in the uncontrollable lust of their demons for each other and their mate.

The blood they'd taken from her was so powerful, so overwhelming, and so full of pleasure that their own orgasms were more than tripled in power. They convulsed for what seemed like hours in each other…Angel buried deep within his childe and Spike buried in Angel's tight fist. When finally their petit morte passed, they, too, dropped like stones, all three mates plunged once again into unconsciousness by the passion they had all shared.

Buffy and Spike chattered like squirrels sometimes. At least, it seemed that way to Angel's pained ears. He welcomed it, actually. Buffy had become so taciturn lately she rivaled even him for sheer broodiness. It was good to hear her teasing Spike. Good to see her laughing with him, even if it meant that she wasn't laughing with Angel. And then she was…drawing him into her laughter with a gentle motion; a tilt of her head; a swift kiss bestowed with a jump to his cheek, mimicked almost instantly by Spike; which drew yet more laughter from her. It rang joyously across the tiled bathroom and the vampires looked at each other with twin expressions of besotted love for their mate.

The three had bathed hastily once they awoke from their precipitous nap. They knew Giles would be there soon, yet there was no sense of dread, nor impending doom. They faced the inevitable with calm assurance that they would weather it somehow. The bonds between them had solidified somehow in the sex (magic?) of their earlier encounter and they all felt the strength of the Marks that bound them into this triangle of unexpected power.

Buffy tried not to think about Giles's certain reaction to her mating with not one, but two vampires, let alone an avowedly evil vampire without a soul and a penchant for bleach and black nail polish. At least he'd stopped wearing the eye liner and lipstick, she thought with a rueful grin as she elbowed him aside to get to the mirror. Why he thought he needed to stand in front of the mirror to do his hair, she had no idea, it wasn't as if he could see himself in it anyway. Perhaps it was just that all of the brushes and hair stuff were there. His and Angel's had gradually encroached upon hers because her bathroom was the biggest and they'd ended up spending most nights in her bed anyway. Not that she minded, except now, when he was in her way, again. She elbowed him harder and he grunted.

"Oi, Slayer, watch it with those elbows!" he said, fiddling with his hair a bit more. "You need more flesh on those bones, Woman, feels like bein' jabbed by a bloody skeleton." She didn't understand why he mashed his hair down so. He had the cutest curls when he let it dry naturally and he smoothed it all out straight instead with that goopey gel. Blech. She'd have to work on that. Once they got back. If they came back. Nope, not thinking that way. They'd go, they'd do the spell, Angel would tie things up in LA and they'd come back. He'd told her so and she believed him. The fact that things never went as planned for either of them was…something she was just not thinking about. She'd add it to the list of things not to think about. The Buffy List of Things to Not Think About. Sort of like David Letterman. Except that she already had way more than 10 things on her list. Oh, well.

The vampires tensed suddenly and Buffy felt caution flow through their bond to her. A human was in the mansion. A human moving like a predator. They could all feel it. Buffy gave up doing anything with her mop of golden brown curls and stuffed them under her stocking cap instead, pointedly ignoring the look that passed between her mates as she did so.

They moved as one for the door, Spike glancing instinctively at Angel for permission before taking point. Buffy followed behind, slightly amused at the deadly grace with which her lovers approached the human who was almost certainly her watcher.

It was, indeed, Giles, and he started, momentarily taken aback as the two silent shapes loomed suddenly from the darkness upstairs to land lithely on either side of him. They straightened and he found himself staring into Spike's amber eyes before they shifted to their human hue of deepest blue. "Hallo, Rupes!" the vampire greeted him, in jolly good spirits for a dead man.

Giles rolled his eyes at the blond vampire and said, "Will you please refrain from calling me that, Spike? Giles is fine and I suppose from one of your…age…Rupert is fine, too, but Rupes? I think not!"

"Rupert," Angel called quietly, and Giles turned, startled to find that the dark vampire was no longer at his side. He had moved so silently that the Watcher hadn't even noticed that he'd gone.

"Yes, Angel?" he inquired, wondering where the damned (and wasn’t that a bloody perfect adjective for the vampire?) man had got to this time.

"Would you care for some tea? I put a pot on to boil and it should be about ready."

Giles headed for the kitchen, followed by Spike, who didn't bother to cloak his movements in stealth, tromping along in unlaced Doc Martens like some high school bully boy. "Oh, that would be lovely, Angel, thank you."

"Earl Grey or Darjeeling?" Angel asked, holding a shining copper tea ball.

"Oh, Darjeeling, certainly. Thank you, ever so." Giles settled himself comfortably at the table and tried not to wonder what Buffy was doing.

Suddenly, she was there, perched before him on one of the stools. "Blast!" he swore, startled into dropping the glasses he'd been polishing. She was starting to move like one of them! She even looked like one of them, pale and drawn, almost no color to her still-gaunt cheeks. He could see every bone of her delicate face and her eyes looked huge and unusually compelling surrounded by so much white skin. He found himself drawn into them, searching their misty hazel-green depths for something crucial…something very important…

"Yo, Giles! Snap out of it! What's the what, Giles? Do I have something on my nose?" Buffy asked in annoyance, brushing at her face and completely unaware of the effect she'd had upon him.

Giles shook his head, disturbed and flustered by this turn of events. Were Buffy's unnatural ties to the master vampires affecting her Slayer powers in unexpected ways? Or was she, perish the thought, starting to…turn? He would have to research it…goodness knows where he could start though…he started to drift off again considering whether there might be a paragraph or two in the Codex that he could start with…then drew himself back to the present with a start as Angel set a mug of piping hot tea with cream in front of him, complete with freshly baked scones and clotted cream.

"Mmm, thank you, Angel, this is delightful. I'm amazed that Buffy isn't, well, huge, living with you like this," Giles murmured around bites of delectable scone.

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Giles," Buffy said sarcastically.

Spike moved behind her, stuffing an entire scone into his mouth with one movement and snaking his foot through a stool. He sat, legs splayed to press against Buffy's and she leaned back into him, completely comfortable in his casual embrace. He wrapped one long, slender arm around her waist and fed her with the other, offering bites bit by bit. Giles was extremely upset by the gentle interaction between them. It looked as if there was actual tenderness there on Spike's part. He touched her so gently, fed her with such…intimacy. And Buffy…Buffy practically glowed under his caresses, opening her mouth for each bite that he fed her with such innocent sensuality that Giles felt as if he'd strayed unexpectedly into a bedroom, not a kitchen.

He looked away and found Angel gazing at the two with a look of such desperate, jealous loneliness that he nearly wept for the dark vampire right then. For the first time, Giles realized what the extraordinary pain of a century of being unable to touch anyone must have done to the dark vampire. Not to mention his five centuries in hell. Certainly the pain on his face watching the two…lovers together was more than anyone outside their intimate circle should reasonably witness. Giles looked down into his tea and took off his glasses to polish them once more.

"Ah, ehm," he started. "It seems to me, that with your expedition to Los Angeles, the simplest solution would be for Buffy to move into my apartment for the time being. She can continue to patrol at night, but she will, of course, have more contact with people, beginning with Willow and Xander, and myself, of course. I would also prefer that you spend some time in the sun, Buffy, you are entirely too pale for a Californian…not that I would ever have believed I could say such a thing three years ago."

Angel nodded in agreement while Spike just drew Buffy closer against his chest, hugging her more like a cherished touchstone than a lover at that moment.

Buffy sat up straighter, pulling herself from Spike's embrace with a reluctance that sent shivers down Giles's spine. "No," she said quietly.

"I beg your pardon?" Giles asked in consternation.

"You can beg all you want, Giles, the answer stays no. This is my home now. This is where I live, where I train. I've lost one home already. I'm not leaving here. You know you'd hate having me in your apartment. It's way too small for the two of us. It's nice of you to offer, but my answer is no."

Giles spluttered helplessly. Of all the possible responses to his decision, he'd never even thought that Buffy might say no.

"Giles, really, thank you. I know that you're just trying to take care of me. I'll check in with you every night before I patrol and every day when I get up, I'll drop by and we can hang for a while, K? I'll have Willow and Xander over here to visit and hang out. I'll go out, sunbathe, go to the mall, whatever. But this is my home now. This is where *we* (she emphasized the we with a glance at Angel and Spike) live. I'm not leaving it. I'm not a child. I can take care of myself."

Giles looked at her proudly. She was a truly amazing young woman. This summer had taken her to the depths of her own personal hell and yet, somehow, she'd come out of it stronger, proud of her own power and able to stand on her own. If he winced at her choice of companions, he couldn't help but concede that their effect on his Slayer had been nothing short of phenomenal. Now he needed to draw her back into the light again. That was to be his task, and one to which he set his mind and heart fully.

Angel gazed at his love with concern, dropping to kneel beside her. "Buffy, you know that I don't want to leave you," he began, gazing deep into her lovely eyes.

"Shush, Angel. I know. I can feel the hunger in you already and it's only been a day. You have thirteen more to go, love. It will be too hard for you if I'm here. Take Spike with you," she turned to press a gentle kiss to the angular jaw of the vampire pressed intimately against her. "He'll help you, even if it's only taking your mind off the hunger by driving you insane," she teased.

"Now go. I don't do well with goodbyes." She stood, pulling the large vampire with her. He hunched over her tiny body and pressed fervent kisses to her delicate face, kisses she returned with ardent love, clutching at him with her small, powerful hands as if she'd never let him go. Then she thrust him from her so hard he stumbled. "GO!" she said, not looking at him as he moved in a silent rush from the kitchen.

Buffy turned to Spike, gazing into his deep blue eyes beseechingly. "Please, William," she asked softly. "Please, Love, take care of him. Don't let him…" her voice trailed off into the sob that she wouldn't let Angel witness.

Spike stroked a gentle thumb over Buffy's cheekbone, wiping away the tear that glistened there. "None of that, you silly Bitch," he whispered in a voice so sweet that her heart nearly broke to hear it. "I'll take care of Peaches, always have done. Don'cha fash your pretty head bout it, Pet. Now, give us a kiss and we'll be off," he grinned at her.

She leaned forward to kiss him, but he swept her into his arms, plundering her mouth with a kiss so hot it would have scalded her had it not come from a mouth so cool. He kissed her until her knees felt weak and she gasped for breathe, then kissed her a bit more, just for emphasis. At last, he set her gently on her feet, chucked her gently under her chin and tromped off in a swirl of black duster and boots.

Author's Note: Quotes are from Ats "War Zone." I've taken considerable liberties with them in order to include Spike (and Gunn is gone). And, yes, I realize that this plays bloody hell with the timeline of the canon, but hey, this is AU, so I can do that (well, and for that matter, if Angel can think that what he had with Buffy…HIS SOULMATE…was a childish crush and his feelings for Cordelia are LOVE, then why the heck am I even worrying about the bloody canon since no one at Mutant Enemy is…not that I'm bitter or anything, perish the thought). That ep takes place later than "Sanctuary" and "This Year's Girl" in my world. I am the goddess of time. -Rhi

*

Angel and Spike climbed slowly from his convertible and walked to the storefront of his small investigative office. "Guess this'll be home for a bit then eh, Peaches," the blond vampire quipped as they stepped inside.

Angel nodded, tiredly. He was feeling the effects of his blood fast already and it had only been a day. How much worse would he feel in a week, let alone two? It was good that his childe was here to see him through it. Well, good for the sire. It was probably not going to be pleasant for the childe. *Then, again,* he thought ruefully, *I'm rarely pleasant to Spike, not as Angelus, anyway.*

They made their silent way to the basement apartment. Angel placed his bags on the floor and began meticulously hanging his coats and suits up in his closet. Spike simply dumped his duffel in a corner and leaped to the bed, pouncing up and down on it like an overgrown puppy.

"Got any O-Pos lyin' around, Peaches?" he asked plaintively. "'M hungry."

"There should be some in the freezer, Spike. You'll have to defrost it in the microwave. Mind you, don't blow it up, if you please."

"Faugh. Don't like it frozen. Tastes like dreck. Platelets get all squooshy. Nothing like fresh. Even pig's blood is better."

"Yes, and I'll have more for you tomorrow, but I didn't tell Cordelia when we'd be back, so I'm sure she hasn't restocked my supply. You can check the refrigerator if you wish, but I doubt there's anything there," Angel replied, a bit snippily. After all, he was hungry, too, and wasn't able to eat anything. It was hardly fair of Spike to keep harping on the subject.

"Oh, all right. I'll wait till tomorrow then. Unless you know any ax murderers hanging out nearby you'd like to be rid of?" Spike inquired hopefully.

Angel grimaced at him. "Spike, please just go to bed!"

"I miss Buffy."

"As do I, childe, as do I."

"She'd be all warm and snuggly in our bed right about now, Sire."

A rumbling growl was his only reply as Angel continued unpacking.

*

Cordelia, Wesley, Angel and Spike walked into a big Hollywood party.

"Oh, I miss that smell!" Cordelia said.

Wesley replied, "Camembert, I believe."

Cordelia was confused. "What?  No…money…I like the smell of a little money once in a while."

Angel nodded. "She's not just saying that.  Hide some in the office sometime to watch her.  It's uncanny."

Cordelia was distracted. "Oh, there he is." She pointed to a guy in a plaid shirt, sitting by himself. "Mr. Nabbit, hi!"

Nabbit got up to greet them. "Hi."

Cordelia as they shake hands:  "Hi."

Nabbit:  "Glad you could come."

Cordy:  "Thanks."

Angel said politely.  "Thanks for having us."

"It's a pleasure.    Who are you?" he asked.

"Oh.  I'm Cordelia Chase?  We spoke on the phone?"

Nabbit held out his hand to shake again.  "Oh!  Right! They shook again.  "So… so you…you must be…Angel."

Angel shook his hand. Clearly this guy was even more awkward around people than he was.  "Yes.  Pleased to meet you.  And this is Wesley, my associate. And Spike, my…other associate."

Wesley nodded politely. "Lovely party."

Nabbit smiled nervously back at him.  "Isn't it nice?"

Spike grimaced, "Where's the beer?"

Cordelia kicked him unobtrusively and he yelped a bit, then subsided. She lost focus, turning to look at another man. "Oh my god, is that Welling Harding?"

David Nabbit followed her gaze. "I…I…I have no idea.  I don't know most of…these people.  I…I don't even talk to them.  They come to the party.  I…I think they have fun." He offered them some appetizers. "These are crab."

Angel glanced at Spike, feeling the snarky amusement ready to spill forth from his childe. He needed to get out of here fast. Between Spike's sense of humor and Angel's growing hunger, this was not the place to be.  "If this is a bad time we..."

Nabbit:  "Oh, uhm, Miss Chase said that you could…only meet at night."

Angel agreed, "Yeah, it's more convenient..."

"And…and that we'd be less conspicuous during the party. I mean, I think it's good!  We probably won't be interrupted…Well, I-I've always said that I would make a billion dollars in the Software market and, uh, learn to talk to girls.   Still working on step two."

Angel needed to move this guy along as fast as possible, despite Cordelia's obvious delight to be in the middle of such wealth again.  "So, why don't you tell us about your case?"

Nabbit looked uncomfortable as they all moved to the sofa.  "Oh.  Ah, my case. It, uh, somewhat has to do with…black…mail."

"Go on," Angel nodded.

Nabbit asked,  "Are you familiar with Dungeons and Dragons?"

"Yeah.  I've seen a few," Angel replied.

Spike snorted, swallowing a laugh.

Wesley cut in abruptly, "You mean the…ah, role playing game."

Angel looked up at Wesley, "Oh…game…right."

"Well, I used to play a lot in High School.  You know, it was pretty cool," Nabbit said.  "You get to be someone else for a while, a wizard, a warrior, you know, the whole world is magic, and fighting Troglodytes and romancing exotic - demon princesses and - you know, it's a rush!"

Cordelia asked, "Did someone find out you were a big nerd?"

Nabbit chuckled, "No that's…ah, that's actually public record.  But…ah…some of us got *really* into it.  Uh…specially the demon romance part.  And then we heard about this place…where…the real... The guys were joking about getting some tail."

"You went to Madam Dorion's," Wesley said.

Nabbit stuttered nervously, "J-j-just once."

Angel glanced up at Wesley inquiringly.

Wesley explained, "It's a demon brothel."

Nabbit added, "Or twice."

"In Bel Air, I believe," Wesley continued.  "The Watchers Council is *ripe* with stories about it."

Angel asked,  "Ah…and how many..."

Nabbit blurted still more nervously, "Twelve…times."

Angel finished, "...people knew about you going?"

Nabbit answered, "Oh…ah, just my-my friends, but ah," he handed Angel a picture, "but my security guys already identified the guy with the…pictures.  That's Lenny Edwards but…I just can't find him."

Angel put the picture of a smoking bald guy in jacket and got up, followed quickly by Spike. "Well, we'll see if we can do better."

Nabbit reiterated, "If…if my stockholders see these pictures..."

"They won't," Angel soothed, concentrating on getting out before he sank his fangs into one of the delectably nubile women walking around them so scantily dressed.

Cordy was focused on matters closer to her own heart, unaware of how conflicted her employer's was. "Don't worry.  We are incredibly discreet.  We'll - ah mingle here for a few hours, so no one suspects."

"Hey, David," said a particularly fine looking girl walking by. Angel could smell the blood beating through her veins. She was healthy and young and just slightly tipsy and her heart was racing with the excitement of being at the party, pumping that blood through her veins with power and youth and ferocious… *GOD! He had to get out of here!*

"Oh, hey.  Nice-nice seeing you again. Yeah." He shrugged to Angel, Wesley and Spike. "I have no idea.  When I moved to LA I thought it was all glamour and valet parking…but there is a *whole* world here that no one ever sees."

"More than one," Angel agreed, as he hurried out, pulling Spike and Wesley behind in his wake as if they were attached.

*

Buffy was facing her most dire challenge in quite some time. She was ill equipped indeed to face this task, and none of her training thus far could have prepared her for what was yet to come. *How did I get myself into this?* She asked herself for the umpteenth time as she pushed the bandana higher up her forehead and balanced herself on the ladder in the great room.

*I should have just hired a cleaning service,* she thought to herself. *Sure, I've got time to kill with the guys gone, and yeah, didn't want to be feeling sorry for myself, blah, blibbity, blah, but WHAT was I thinking steam cleaning the entire mansion with only the occasional help of my friends?*

"Yo, Buffy, where do you want me to dump the dirty water anyway? This kitchen sink looks way too clean for it," Xander's voice called from around the corner.

"Ick, no, Xand, Angel would gut me if I dumped that in his beaten copper sink! There's a utility room off of the kitchen, dump the used water down the drain in there, please. Thanks!" she called from her perch. *God, this ceiling is filthy! I bet no one has cleaned this place in decades! Well, duh, Buffy, vampires not exactly known for their cleanliness. Dwelling in shadows, yadda, yadda, yadda.*

Buffy balanced precariously near the top of the extension ladder that she had propped against the corner. One of the things she wanted to try was substituting the new UV glass films for the black out paint that Angel, or rather Angelus had painted over the windows with. If they were going to set up shop permanently here, it needed to be human friendly. And that meant sunlight. Not just for her, for her friends, too.

Buffy smiled cruelly, not realizing that at that moment, she looked more than a bit like Spike. She was going to test her theories out on a vampire she planned to capture. Nothing like having a set of manacles and not using them. That way, she wouldn't have to risk harming her mates while she tried out the UV films. She waited for Xander to refill the steam cleaning tank so she could blast the chipping paint from the windows.

*

Angel and Spike stalked into Madam Dorion's.  There were all types of demon girls sitting with customers.

Madam Dorion intercepted them as they walked deeper into the establishment. "We don't do vampires.  Sorry."

"We just came to talk," Angel said.

The Madam smirked, "We don't do that either."

Angel showed her the picture. "His name is Lenny Edwards.  You know him?"

"Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you," she replied, leading them toward the exit.

Angel:  "You're discreet.  That's good."

Madam:  "Essential in my line of work."

Spike chimed in, "How bloody discreet would you say it is for one of your clients to be secretly photographed here - and then blackmailed?"

Madam:  What?"

Angel noted, "Bad for business, I guess.  You tell us where we can find Lenny Edwards and maybe we just might stop this before word hits the street."

Madam asked, "Who is the girl?"

Angel answered, "We don't know.  But the client's name is David Nabbit."

"Lina!" Madam beckoned. A quilled demon came over.  "Talk to Lina."

Lina ran a hand over Angel's chest:  "Oh, he's a pretty one." Then she turned to Spike. "Mmm, and a blond, too?"

Madam said, "They're vampires, Lina."

"Really?" Lina asked,  "Well, we can make an exception.  Just don't do - that face thing, and we'll get along great." She turned around to face Madam Dorian holding up her hands. "Look, ma, no hands!"

Angel and Spike both looked down, and let out unnecessary breaths. Angel caught one of the girl's tails in his hand. Spike just let his head loll back, his face slack with pleasure and need as Lina caressed him with her other prehensile tail.

Madam:  "That's not why they're here, Lina."

Angel sighed and held out the picture.  "I'm looking for him?" Lina sighed as she continued to pleasure Spike, who was moaning slightly now.  "I think your boss here would like you to co-operate."

Lina looked at her boss then back at Angel. "Vampires." She let go of Spike and he fell abruptly to his knees as the pressure that had been holding him up was removed.

"Jesus, Peaches, you couldn't have waited another few minutes to get all bloody noble? What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with this?"

*

Giles heart was in his mouth. He was more terrified than he'd been in years. "Buffy, get down this instant. This is insanity. Have you lost your mind entirely?"

He'd come in and nearly knocked her from her precarious position atop the rickety ladder where she was steam-cleaning debris from the admittedly nearly sparkling windows of the mansion. He'd no idea where this blasted domestic bent had arisen from but it was damned wrong. Slayers should slay. Well, slay and study. All right, slay and study and train. Well and he did want her to have a life outside of that, occasionally, with her friends…he supposed, so, well… bloody hell, anyway, that wasn't the point. The point was…domestic bliss wasn't the point. Especially not setting up house with two vampires.

At least, he didn't think that was the point. If he were honest with himself, Rupert knew that he should be pleased that Buffy was making an effort towards anything at all outside of brooding and slaying. She'd become so melancholy of late, so introspective and taciturn, completely unlike her former self. At least she was focused on a goal this way, even if the goal was…playing house with two vampires. Gods, was he really that pompous? He sounded like…an old man.

Still, seeing them with her in the kitchen, he'd been unable to tear his eyes away, despite feeling as if he was witnessing something more intimate than lovemaking, more private than death. The love, the soul-tearing, desperate need that shone with utter clarity from their eyes was enough to make him want to turn his head, ashamed to be the Watcher who had to document this, analyze it, dissect and critique it for posterity so that any and all who followed could know and understand how such a thing was even possible. He did his duty and Watched. He catalogued every heartbreaking, soul-shaking touch, each kiss, every tear from living and undead eyes alike.

His growing conviction frightened and confused him. Angel, he had understood, he thought, as an anomaly who nonetheless fit safely into the carefully patterned world of the Watchers and Slayers. Angel had a soul. Though not innocent, it was at least, human. He was demon and souled, and thus could feel, could love and hate, could be human in the sense that the Watchers understood humanity.

Angel had Marked Buffy as a vampire Marked a Mate. It was questionable whether the Marking had actually been performed with the demon completely in control or partially in control. Had Angelus been fully in control, Rupert assumed he would simply have Sired Buffy. So the soul must have prevented that, sick to death as Angel was. Thus Buffy's first tie to a vampire.

Spike, though, Spike could not feel, could he? Spike was soulless. Evil. He reveled in it. Enjoyed it. Always had. He took more simple pleasure in being a vampire than any that Rupert had ever had the misfortune to read about or meet. Buffy had remarked upon it on more than one occasion. Where Angelus had shown passion for torture, death and destruction, Spike simply showed joy, if a debased and evil joy.

He also showed a remarkable talent and capacity for tenderness for a demon (or human for that matter, certainly far more than Rupert's own father). He'd been amazingly faithful to Drusilla, and, Rupert understood, to Angelus, as well. And now, now he had mated himself to Buffy. Still evil, still soulless, he was tender to Buffy, protective of and caring to Buffy. Dare he say it, loving? Rupert shuddered at the thought.

He had Marked Buffy as Mate, as well. A Mark she clearly felt in some way, given her obvious ease with him, their physical closeness and camaraderie. Spike hadn't hunted since the chip was removed. Hadn't even tried, from all accounts. *Why? If the demon is, as we understand it, truly and completely evil, how could the bond with Buffy make it care? Why wouldn't it just continue to do as it pleases and damn the consequences? If it isn't evil, why has it acted so in the past? And if vampires aren't truly evil, then what are they? And what are the Slayers? Or the Watchers?*

*

Lenny was about to get in his car when Angel came up behind him.

"What do you want?" Lenny sneered.

"Big question.  What do I want?"  Angel thought for a moment. "Love…family…a place on this planet I can call my own…but you know what?"

Lenny, "What?"

"I'm never going to have any of those things.  -  And unless these next few minutes go exactly the way I want them to, neither are you.  -  Where are the pictures of David Nabbit?"

"Never heard of him."

"Oh-ho, you only get one lie." Angel said.  "I probably should have mentioned that first."

Lenny patted Angel on the shoulder:  "Look, pal, you're obviously not from around here. But trust me - you do *not* want to see my bad side."

"You show me yours," Angel vamped out, "I show you mine."  He grabbed Lenny and pushed him up against the car.  "Okay, so for the moment I'm from around here.  In fact, I'm moving in.  Taking over, you understand me?  I will dog you every night for the rest of your very short life until you bring me what I want.  Are we clear?"  Lenny nodded frantically.  "Yeah.  See you tomorrow."

Angel gave Lenny a last shove.  Lenny turned to unlock his car door, then looked back.  Angel was gone. Lenny got in the car and drove off.

Wesley and Cordelia were standing in front of David Nabbit while he wrote out a check.

"Ah," he said.  "This should take care of your expenses to date.  I want you to know I really appreciate what you did at the party."

"At the party?" Wesley asked.  Nabbit nodded and Wesley and Cordy looked at each other.  "What we did at the party?"

"It was a wonderful party," Cordy added.

"We talked," said Nabbit, "We had some good times.  It meant a lot to me."

"Oh," Cordy said, at a loss for words.

Wesley interjected, "Yes, but…you were paying us to be there."

Nabbit noted, "I do that all the time.  But you guys actually hung with me.  It was, it was special."

He held the check out to Wesley, but Cordy grabbed it.

Cordy said, "I'm in charge of the..."

She saw the amount of the check and, speechless, showed it to Wesley.

Wesley gawked, "Good Lord.  I think there must be some mistake."

Cordy cut in quickly, "I'm sure Mr. Nabbit knows how to write a check."

Nabbit, "No, there is no mistake.  I just…believe in rewarding good work."

"This is amazingly generous, Mr. Nabbit, but…we are really not finished with the job," Wesley said.

Nabbit noted, "It's only money, and I got sack-fulls, and it's…it's David.  You guys call me David, okay?"

Cordy chimed in, "I like David.  It's such a…strong, masculine name."  He grinned at her. "It just feels…good in your mouth."

"Well, David, you won't be disappointed." Wesley cut in before Cordelia could embarrass them further.  "We'll earn every cent of your generous confidence in our firm."

"Bye," Cordy said.

Nabbit,  "Bye."

Wesley hissed at Cordy as he dragged her out, "Feels good in your mouth?"

Cordy blushed, "I was flustered!"

*

Buffy had finally finished cleaning the ceiling and windows. It had taken a solid week of back-breaking work, but it was worth it. The room glowed. The marble had taken on a luster she wouldn't have believed possible. She'd even called in a professional chimney company to clean out the capacious fireplace and lay in a good supply of nicely seasoned wood for her. The place looked amazing. She ached in every muscle in her body, but it was a satisfying ache.

She felt…good. It was odd. She hadn't neglected her patrols while she'd been immersed in this project, nor had she neglected her friends, though they'd gotten sucked into it with her, much to their chagrin. Poor Xander, she thought. Making him clean Angel's mansion *was* a bit mean, but hey, he owed her for that crack in the cemetery. He was being all nice about it, though, so she forgave him, especially after he scrubbed the entire floor on his hands and knees. He'd barely been able to straighten his back that day and his hands and knees had bled by the end of it. Almost as if he'd been doing penance or something…whatever...she accepted the apology. It was time to move on.

Willow had suggested using magic to speed things along, but Buffy had wanted to do things the old-fashioned way, with soap and water and her own two hands…well, and a steam blaster thingy. Hey, it's not quite the dark ages! Tonight, though, tonight was time to get the last piece for her test. The film was up, everything was in place. She hadn't told Giles about this part. She knew he'd assumed that she would simply replace the black-out shades. But Buffy wanted more. She wanted to dwell in both worlds, bridge both of them with her lovers. And to do that, she had to try her experiment. So…tonight the Slayer was going to capture, not kill…

*

Lenny was sitting on the hood of his car holding a brown manila envelope in his hands, looking around.  Suddenly Angel was there. "You're a sneaky son of a bitch, aren't you?"

Angel just looked at him  "You brought the photographs?"

Lenny held up the envelope.  "Of course I brought them…and a little something extra."

A gray skinned demon appeared next to Angel and hit him hard enough that he flew a few feet backwards through the air.

Lenny smirked. "Love that."

Angel and the demon fought.  The demon was at least as strong as Angel, especially since the dark vampire hadn't fed for a week. The amazing strength imparted by Buffy's Slayer blood was enough to keep him fighting…barely, but he struggled to stay on his feet. The demon threw him into Lenny and he dropped the envelope. Angel grabbed desperately for it and stuffed it into his coat.

"Whatever he's paying you isn't enough, is it, big fellow?" Lenny laughed, not realizing that Spike was right behind him. Lenny ran, with Spike chasing him as Angel swung around a lamp post and continued to fight the demon. He managed to break the demon's neck and paused for a moment. He was dripping blood from his broken ribs, one of which had punctured the skin. Trying to recover his waning strength from the fight was hard with him so weak from lack of blood. He pressed on the wound and waited for his childe to return. Eventually, Spike came back, smiling with vicious glee and wiping the last traces of Lenny from his mouth.

"Don't think he'll be any trouble to anyone round here again, Sire. You OK?"

"I'm fine, Spike, just hungry and tired. Let's get out of here."

*

Buffy stalked through the cemetery, intent on finding a fledgling who wouldn't give her too much trouble. It had been very slow in Sunnydale this past week, so slow that she suspected her lovers of hunting out the remaining vampires and scaring them out of town. It would be just like them to leave her with nothing to do. Luckily, she could always count on Sunnydale to provide a few new ones for entertainment value, she thought as a young man crawled snarling from his grave.

Suppressing her instinctual need to stake him, Buffy clubbed him over the head instead, knocking him unconscious with one hard blow. She hefted his considerable bulk over her shoulder and began the long walk back to the mansion. *I've really got to learn how to drive,* she thought as the miles stretched out before her.

*

Wesley and Cordy looked over the pictures that Angel recovered while Spike strapped his Sire's broken ribs tightly. Angel hissed in pain.

"That's very nice work.  I'm sure Nabbit will be greatly relieved to get these back," Wesley said. He sat down next to Angel on the edge of the desk, looking at one of the pictures)  "Oh my."

Spike glanced at it casually, "It's upside down."

Wesley turned the picture around and they both looked at it. "Certainly not something one would want framed."

Cordy said, "How does it feel?"

Wesley replied, "I can't possibly imagine it's pleasant."

Angel nodded, "Ew."

"I'm talking to Angel," Cordy said.

Angel and Wesley looked at her.

Wesley blushed, "Oh, right.  Sorry."

Angel got up and took his shirt from Spike. "It feels," he winced as he pulled it on. "It feels better. Thank you, Childe." He turned his head to Spike and brushed a kiss against his mouth.

Spike kissed him back harder and growled, "Liar."

Now it was Cordy's turn to blush. She'd never seen Angel and Spike…together before like that. It was…surprisingly hot! "You should rest.  You look like..."

Angel turned his head to her, still leaning into the shorter blond man.  "Like I've been beaten?"

"It's just…I've seen you take much worse and bounce back much faster. What gives? Do you want to see the check again?"

"It's the blood," Spike growled, stroking his sire's face with a deceptively gentle hand despite his harsh words. "Stupid ponce can't have any blood for another 5 days. He's starvin' himself for this damned ritual. No blood, no healin'. Our bodies aren't alive. They can't heal on their own. Not at all. They don't get well. Only blood fixes 'em. Without it…we stay exactly the same as when we were hurt. Actually worse, in a way, since the energy we use up by walking, running, talking, takes more out of us every moment. He's starvin'…wastin' away standin' here. "

*

Wesley stared at the whipped cream mounded on top of the cup he received from a street vendor. "I asked for a coffee.  I know it must be in here someplace.  Are you alright?  You haven't said two words since we left the office."

"Oh, I was just thinking about Angel," Cordy replied.

Wesley nodded. "Yes.  The beating was pretty awful. We don't realize how much damage he takes when he fights because he heals so quickly. It doesn't mean that he doesn't feel the pain just as much as we do, though."

"Actually, I was thinking about him and Spike. Can you believe they're actually together again?"

They sat down on a park bench. "Well, they were together from the time Angelus turned Spike in the eighteen-seventies until he was cursed with his soul…more than a quarter century, I believe. Longer than most marriages last today. It certainly gives one a sense of perspective, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," Cordy replied. "And I think, perspectively speaking, I might want to…prostitute myself to billionaire David Nabbit."

Wesley choked on his coffee. "Cordelia!"

Cordy said, "What I mean is…he's a nice guy who wants companionship.  I could use some security.  So when I say 'prostitute' what I mean is.."

"Prostitute."

"For instance..." her voice trailed off.

Wesley looked at her.  "Do you think you really could?"

"I don't know." She paused, thinking about it. "I could probably learn to love him.  Looks aren't everything…or chemistry…personality, that's important.  And except for a lot of other…It's not what's on the outside that…Yeah.  Never mind. I'm *fine* here. Poor…alone."

*

Alone, Buffy watched, eyes hooded as the vampire screamed in hopeless agony. The light hit it fully and it wailed. Then stopped. Its skin wasn't burning, as it so clearly expected. Wasn't even smoking. It waved its arms under the burning rays from the gleaming front windows and capered about as much as the manacles would allow.

Bwah ha ha! "I'm immune! I can stand the sunlight and live," it shouted.

Buffy nodded at him. "You should go tell all your friends." She unfastened his manacles and opened the front door. He raced outside into the direct noon sun and fried instantly.

That took care of that. Now to start on the kitchen windows. That room was going to take forever…

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