Jealous. 

He was incredibly jealous, the fire streaking through him was enough to transform his face into that of the demon and he had never so welcomed it before. Anger was a close second, though that was directed not solely at her but at him, too. Both halves of him, soul and demon. 

Angel hated his other half, but not for the reasons one might think. He hated that the demon had what they had both always wanted, hated that Angelus was in control of their body and that he had Buffy. Hated that he, himself, was too weak, on too many levels, to have stopped it. And Angel hated that he wasn’t with Buffy but that Angelus was. 

Insane. 

Angel was crazy with insanity trapped inside Angelus and wondered if this was how Angelus felt all those years and how either of them had survived. Before, Angelus had known everything Angel had ever done with Buffy and wanted to be the one there instead. Wanted to be her first lover, her only love, wanted to be the one to drink from her so that he might make her his for eternity. 

Now, Buffy was a constant presence in both Angel’s thoughts and his senses. She was nearby; he found it the height of irony that the bond, the link between he and Buffy, the one he had suppressed for so long because it brought too much pain he wasn’t able to deal with…was stronger now that he was a distant echo inside Angelus. 

It was as it had been before, he knew where she was, general empathetic feelings, when she left Sunnydale with a purpose still not known to him. Knew that she traveled to LA to confront Angelus; whether to find a way to kill him or put Angel back in full control of the body Angel could not say. Maybe it was something else, but it didn’t matter. 

Because then she was even closer. 

She was with him. Buffy was being seduced by the demon and she didn’t seem to mind, didn’t care that it was Angelus and not Angel in charge. He felt it all, felt what his demon felt, heard what Angelus heard and experienced every precious amazing moment Angelus did.

Which brought him back to the jealously part. 

For years Angel had forced himself away from his love so that she could have some kind of life not connected with him. Normality was most likely out, he knew that, but he wanted her to have a chance at something not connected to demons, most especially to his demon. Her innocence had been torn away by him, by Angel and Angelus; she had had to endure her years of high school attached to someone who could never truly belong in her world. 

The world she so desperately wanted to belong in. 

Angel had left so that neither would be tempted by the other. They were so close to giving in, so close to losing what little restraint either possessed that it was literally a matter of days before they no longer cared. Before they once more became whole in each other. 

Yes, Angel was jealous. And yes, he was angry; angry because Angelus was free despite Angel’s sacrifices and hold on him, free despite his years of self-imposed isolation from his mate, from Buffy. Free to do whatever he, Angelus, wanted to do with Buffy because he could. 

And at Buffy because she let the demon indulge in her flesh, didn’t fully appreciate the sacrifices he, Angel, had made for her, her life, her happiness. 

As Buffy cried out her climax, screaming the demon’s name as she did so, Angel howled. He would not allow Angelus to win, he would find a way to beat his demon and reclaim his mate. 

Angel was finally ready to fight; for his mate, for his love, for the only destiny he cared about, Buffy. She was his, and he would be damned if he lived the rest of this confined existence as a secondary player inside his own damn body. 

“BUFFY!”  
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy woke with a start and looked around the clearing. 

She was firmly enfolded in Angelus’ embrace, her head pillowed on his shoulder, a leg thrown over his waist. His hands tightened on her as she moved and he woke slightly. Kissing his chest, hands smoothing over his shoulders and arms, Buffy stilled her body until he relaxed back into sleep, a low purr emanating from his chest. 

His arousal stirred against her leg and she smiled even as something in her body reached out for whatever had awoken her. 

She knew that presence and turned her head slightly, looking for him, for Angel. The fact that she was 99% sure he was trapped inside Angelus didn’t stop her from trying to visibly find him in the park. 

Buffy was sure she had heard him, that he was calling out to her, but she had no way to answer him, no way to tell him that she had a plan. It wasn’t a very good one, and mostly her plans didn’t work – they usually needed to be seriously revised mid-execution – but she had one. And she was going to save him. 

Angelus hadn’t gone back to sleep as Buffy thought and his big hands roamed over her back, cupping her ass to shift her more fully onto his chest. 

“What are you thinking, love?” His voice was a rumble as a finger dipped into her already wet core. 

“I thought I heard something,” she said honestly enough even as she moved her hips in time to the slow thrusting of his hand. “It woke me.” 

Opening his eyes, Angelus studied her face for a moment. He felt Angel’s stirrings inside, but wasn’t sure how much Buffy could still feel of that annoying soul. It didn’t matter, or wouldn’t, for soon enough he planned on being completely rid of the pesky soul and he, Angelus, would be the lone and rightful owner of this body. 

Buffy, seeing that he didn’t believe her, smiled and kissed him. “But, since I doubt anyone or anything would be stupid enough to defy any order you’ve given about disturbing us, I guess it was nothing.” 

Taking one more moment to study her, Angelus returned her kiss and growled as Buffy shifted her heat over his hard cock. Teasing him, she refused to sink over him, taking him into that delicious heat. He allowed her this game, knowing that in the end she would give into their mutual passion and the rewards would be well worth it. 

Angelus gave himself up to his mate’s caresses, her hot breath and burning touch and pushed all thoughts of Angel away. The soul would be dealt with, later…
~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay, that fucking hurt!” 

Faith leapt back to her feet from where she had been thrown a good dozen yards against a tombstone – Katherine Patricia’s final resting place was now cracked down the middle. Charging the small group of vampires that had ventured out this fine evening, she wondered why she ever thought she could do this solo. Ah, youth. 

She, Willow, and two of the potentials, Kennedy and Marcy, Macy, Mary, something like that, had decided to take half of the cemeteries; Giles, Anya, and the rest of the potentials took the other half. 

They were to meet back at the Summers’ house – where Dawn was actually studying for several school-related tests – in a couple of hours; patrols were being cut short these days. It was getting more and more dangerous out even for a slayer. The worst part was that Faith had to admit that. 

She wasn’t used to having others rely on her, let alone actually looking to her as some kind of leader. It was unnerving in the extreme. There had been more than a few arguments over her leadership, mostly coming from Giles, Willow, and Dawn who didn’t trust her at all – not that they had any real reason to. The potentials had no real idea who she was; all they knew was that she was a slayer, like Buffy, so they followed her. 

While that was gratifying and a real boost to her ego, it was the older members of the group whose respect she wanted. Faith doubted that she’d ever get that, though. 

Whirling out of the way of a set of fangs and some seriously bad breath – didn’t they know the merits of brushing? – Faith let her arm fly back on instinct and staked the vamp, turning to the next one before the dust was even settled. “Kennedy, behind you!” Faith shouted as she watched the young potential freeze, her fear controlling her actions for a second longer than it should have.

Maybe it was time to have a little pep talk about the virtues of staying alive. So far Faith and Giles and agreed on one thing: Train the would-be slayers to fight for their lives. Just about everything else was secondary. 

Faith sprinted to Kennedy’s position but was still several yards away when the potential began to fight back. Unfortunately the vamp had already gotten in a few good hits and the girl was fading fast. Lying on her back, looking up as the demon towered over her, the weakened potential swept her legs out in an attempt to knock the vampire down. 

Whatever energy she had left must have worked because the vamp fell backwards, allowing Faith those much needed seconds to reach their position and stake the demon. Helping Kennedy up, they turned to the remaining two members of their group and noted that Willow and Maria – that was her name – were working together to finish the last vamp off. 

Regrouping in the middle of the cemetery as the dust began to settle, Faith began to laugh. Willow looked at her and joined in. The two potentials just looked confused. 

“When was the last time either of us needed help taking down a vampire?” Willow asked as they turned to head out the cemetery and back to the house. 

“Several long lifetimes ago,” Faith admitted, “Maybe we’re getting too old for this.”

Willow laughed again and they settled into a comfortable silence. Nothing between them was resolved, Willow still didn’t trust the second slayer, but she realized that Buffy was right in putting Faith in charge of things here.
~~~~~~~~~~
Unfortunately for them, there were many things that needed ‘taken down.’ 

“Spike, my pet, you’ve been asleep for ages, don’t you want to play?” Drusilla cooed into her former – and soon to be again – lover’s ear. 

She had had Spike cleaned up, the stain of weeks of captivity finally removed from his body. Fed him from her own neck to strengthen him once more, and watched as he slept, troubled by his soul’s shrieks. And had that wicked web of mechanical muddle removed. While Dru was unsure how to rid her Spike of his sickening soul, she did know that he was not meant to follow in her sire’s footsteps. 

No, Spike may have been in possession of a soul, and that soul was troubled by his past deeds to be sure, but he didn’t have the strength of will to overcome the demon within. And ultimately, that was what was going to govern his actions. He was too weak to withstand Drusilla when she turned him, too weak to stand on his own when he was implanted by those soldiers. 

And now, Drusilla laughed, he was too weak to resist the howling of his demon and the whimpers of his soul. 

Spike opened his eyes then, clear from their dreams and screams, and looked at his black princess. His soul was quiet, his demon screaming for its mate. He smiled then, and it was his old smile. Drusilla laughed and kissed him, tasting the copper tang of his blood as her face shifted, fangs sinking into his lower lip. 

He laughed, too, soul willingly cowed by the demon. “What are you dong here, pet?” He asked even though he was fairly sure he had asked before. Days had run together until Spike wasn’t sure where one ended and another began. The only thing he knew at this moment was that the cries of his damned soul were quieter and his princess was in his arms. 

“I came back for you, luv, came to bring you back and take you home.” 

“Right, I’m sure. Now, you decide to come back? I’m just not buying it, Dru.” Spike shook his head and noticed only then that not much hurt. Doing a quick inventory he realized that most of his body had healed and…yes, that was the distinct taste of Sire’s Blood. What had changed her mind? 

“I missed you, Spike, but you’ve been naughty. Slayer’s lapdog, helping her foul friends, getting a soul, what happened to my sweet boy?” Dru asked as her fingers traced his face. In a sudden move that he should have seen coming, she slashed her nails across his cheek, bringing the bloodied digits to her lips. 

“For over a hundred years you were a vicious creature, hunting, killing, feeding. What happened, pet?” 

Spike laughed, some small part of his mind wondering if he was the crazy one in this duo. “You left me, Dru, remember? Walked out on me and said I wasn’t demon enough for you anymore. I came back to Sunnyhell to kill the slayer to prove you wrong and got caught by those damned soldiers.” 

Dru smiled and licked his check, the wounds already beginning to heal. “You were mean to daddy, Spike, you helped the mean slayer.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been over this, pet,” Spike said in exasperation. Throwing his hands in the air he prowled around the cavern. Hey, he was prowling, not all chained up like a victim. Wasn’t it nice to be free, Spike smiled. “I have no desire to, still, to live in a world where the things that make eternal life worth living are gone. What fun would hell be if we weren’t the ultimate predators?” 

Stopping in front of Drusilla, Spike asked again. “What are you doing in Sunnydale, Dru?” 

“The wind whispers, pet, whispers of changes and wickedness, of love and loss and of my Angel. He’s back, you know, he’s back and he’s going to reclaim her. I want you back, my sweet, I want it to be like it was, I want us to be a family again.” Of course the last time she had said that Darla had been in the picture, but Buffy was almost as good. And if daddy turned her… 

“Angelus is back?” Spike thought for a moment. He knew that; some things, despite the days of torture, were worth remembering. “Buffy? He’s after Buffy?” 

Spike shrugged, not particularly caring at the moment. She had obviously not cared enough to find him, to get him away from the First yet look at that, running to Angel the second he needed her. Even worse was the fact that she had quite possibly run to Angelus. Why should he care about her? 

Okay, so he had some unchanneled rage towards the slayer and hadn’t yet had a chance to work through it. Maybe later. 

“You know,” he said instead, changing the subject, “I stick with you for a hundred consecutive years, take care of you when the poof disappears with his thrice damned soul, and how do you repay me? By leaving me the first chance you get. Not feeling the love here, Dru, not at all.” 

Attacking him suddenly with claws and fangs, Dru slashed and ripped until Spike fought back. It wasn’t exactly a battle so much as a sign of affection. Finally subduing her, Spike looked down at his sire. Her face was bruised and slightly bloody, her arms were streaked with blood and she was looking at him with enough lust in her golden eyes to cause him to combust on the spot. 

What the hell, he thought as he kissed her, what the hell. Drusilla had always been fickle in her affections but he loved her anyway. More than Buffy, more than his own life. She might not stay with him for the next hundred years, but he almost believed that he could survive without her this time. At least until they met again.

She was real and that, for the moment, was enough for Spike.
~~~~~~~~~~
He was bored. 

It was strange, considering he was chained to the wall in a fortified penthouse as the prisoner of the current ‘ruler’ of the city, but Charles Gunn was bored. He wasn’t sure whom to blame this strange turn of events on, but chalked it up to the fact that for most of his life he had been active in the demon-hunting world. Suddenly he wasn’t.

He was a prisoner.

Wasn’t that fun. And his two companions? Were seriously annoying the shit out of him. Wes with his moans of pain and stench of blood and vomit and Lorne with his constant grousing and griping…how did you kill him again? Chop the head and mutilate the body? Maybe he should suggest it next time he saw Angelus.
Speaking of their former fearless leader and current psycho torturer, where’d he go? 

“Wes,” Gunn called, hoping to distract both himself from his apparent boredom (who was the wacko here?) and his companion from himself. “Where’d Angelus go? He was on a strict visitation schedule for ages there, what happened?” 

Wes moaned again as he lifted his head, surely too heavy for the rest of his body. “Angelus…? He’s back?” And there was definite panic in the Englishman’s voice, not that Gunn could blame the other man. “Where?” 

“No, man,” Gunn said in exasperation. “He’s not here; I want to know where he went. Why he hasn’t tortured us in days.” Or was it hours? Weeks? He couldn’t tell, the room wasn’t dungeon like, but it was windowless and lacked a clock. Nor could Gunn say why Angelus hadn’t done more than a rudimentary torture session on him. Not that it hadn’t hurt like hell, because it certainly had, Gunn was sure those knife cuts were going to scar and the sight in his left eye was questionable, but everyone else was in much worse shape. 

Sure, the other’s had known the vampire for longer, or at least Cordelia and Wesley, but Lorne? Maybe the demon was finally just tired of the Pylean spouting his ridiculous ‘readings’ on him. Lord knew Gunn was. 

“That’s because,” a new voice said, “He’s out playing.” 

Gunn looked to the door where an impeccably dressed Lilah Morgan stood, cold smirk firmly in place, cocky attitude…wait, no not entirely. Gunn allowed his own smirk to grace his handsome features for a brief moment as he realized the bitch lawyer was scared. Then he winced because his lip was split and puffy from Angelus’ fist. 

So Lilah was scared, of Angelus to be sure, but why suddenly? 

“Playing?” He asked instead, “Playing with what?” 

“Oh, not what,” she laughed and sauntered into the room, sparing a glance at Lorne before her eyes rested for a brief moment on Wesley. “My, how the mighty have fallen, Wesley, dear.” Turning back to Gunn with nary a shrug for her former lover she added, “Whom, with whom. He’s playing with the slayer.”

”Faith? She made it out?” Gunn was surprised. 

Sure, she wasn’t here, but he had thought her dead for that very reason, that she wasn’t with them. Then again, Angelus hadn’t said a word about her and he had taunted them all about Fred’s death…Fred…. Anger rose hot and sharp inside him and Gunn vowed that the second he was lose…Angelus was going to be sorry about that. 

Very sorry and very, very dusty. 

Lilah laughed then, an honestly amused sound that caught everyone’s attention. “No, of course not. The real slayer, Gunn, he’s with Buffy.” 

Wes, who had been floating in and out of anything resembling reality for days now repeated, “Buffy?” Then went back to muttering under his breath. Gunn couldn’t figure out which was more annoying: not hearing the words Wes was muttering, just the sounds or hearing what the now lunatic man was saying. “He’s always had her, she’s always had him, she’s the one to do it, the only one...” 

“Ah, the watcher speaks. Of course Buffy, who else do you think could possibly distract him? Only Buffy,” and Lilah no longer cared about that. It was all about her now, more so than it had been. Before there was the hope that she could finally feel the cool flesh of his hard body pressed against hers in addition to being his right hand woman…now she just wanted to remain alive long enough to die from old age and nothing else. 

“The little blonde?” Gunn asked, and then shook his head. He had heard things but had never really thought about it. He knew stories, what Cordelia and Wesley had told him in their admittedly skewed point of view. What was the big deal, he had often wondered, why couldn’t the man (Angel) be with his one true love? Apparently, though, only he thought that. 

“She’s here? Purposely?” 

Lilah nodded and glanced discretely into the corner of the room, reminding them they were being monitored. Gunn wondered why she had done that, he had noticed the camera his first day here; actually he wondered if Angelus taped their little torture sessions to watch again later. He wouldn’t put it past the crazy fuck. What the hell was going on? 

“Of course. Did you really think that she wouldn’t come running the second her precious lover was in danger?” 

Gunn shrugged and answered honestly, “Never really thought about it.” 

Lorne took that moment to groan loudly, “We’re all going to die, nothing but blood and death and power, too much power!”

Lilah and Gunn, the only two remotely sane people in the room stared at the green skinned demon a moment before looking at each other. “Will someone please shut him up?” Gunn muttered before turning his attention back to Lilah, squinting out of his one decent eye. “You were saying? Buffy’s here, Angelus is with her, and that’s why we’ve been spared his particular brand of friendship?” 

Laughing, Lilah nodded. “She’s the only one to ever distract both soul and demon. Though I’m unsure of her purpose other than to probably put the soul back in charge of the body, yes she is in Los Angeles.” 

And that, Lilah thought as she left the still chained men in the dingy room, was something else to think about. Whether her loyalties lay more with herself or if she was scared enough of Angelus to stay with the vampire. 

As she walked down the hall she heard Gunn call out, “Hey, can you get me a pillow? This wall is hard!”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Shouldn’t I have special powers or something?”

Doyle laughed, looking at the boy out of the corner of his eye. “Like what, lad?”

Connor shrugged and continued his pacing. “I don’t know, the ability to walk through walls, or, yeah, how about the ability to crash through that unbreakable window over there and survive the eighteen story drop to the street below?”

Shaking his head and laughing again, the former seer said, “Sorry, no. You aren’t Superman, Connor, you’re just…hmm, higher being is used way too much around here and you’re higher than that anyway. Special? In a non-extra Superman power way of course.”

That did not ease the boy’s mind nor make his captivity easier to deal with. “What’s a super-man?”

“Never mind, lad. Now concentrate on what I taught you.” Doyle walked over to Connor and watched as the younger man closed his eyes, breathing deeply and focused the energies deep inside of him.

“Can you feel it?” Doyle’s voice was soft, low, a smooth cadence that flowed over Connor. “Can you feel the energies running through the planet, the universe? Take one of them, gently now, hold it in your hands as you would a beautiful and infinitely precious flower and follow it.” He watched as Connor swayed slightly, but remained focused on his task.

They had been working on his focusing techniques for hours now, days at least – Doyle had problems telling time anymore, it was so insignificant where he was from – and this was the first time Connor hadn’t lost the thread he was following within moments of finding it. Interspersed with these control lessons were lessons on the key players (no pun intended) in this little melodrama.

For a moment Doyle had toyed with just showing Connor the entire history of Liam, Angelus, and Angel, but decided against it in the next breath. Hearing about things was entirely different from witnessing them first hand – actually living through what Angelus did was probably not the best way to gain Connor’s trust or belief in his father. Or, rather, in the good his father had done and was capable of doing. 

So the saga began with Doyle skipping over several unimportant parts (the killing of Liam’s family, the stalking and rendering insane of Drusilla) to get to the good parts: 

Like the soul restoration in the Romanian woods, and that moment in China when Angel realized that he couldn’t continue on as he was and leapt out a window with the Chinese baby he refused to murder.

The moment he had first seen Buffy.

That was a great moment, Doyle thought, and had impressed upon Connor the importance of it over and over again until the boy had yelled he’d had enough of it and to please move on before, already ascended or not, he – Connor  – killed Doyle. Taking the hint, the former half demon moved onto the ‘Sunnydale Days.’

He could tell he had reached Connor when the boy actually looked as if he felt sorry for Buffy when Angel lost his soul, when she had had to kill Angel. And he looked if not happy, then certainly much less hostile when Angel returned from hell. Again Doyle thought that showing the torment Angel (and Angelus) had suffered in hell might help but wasn’t sure that would garner any brownie points with the boy. 

Doyle thought that maybe it was his storytelling that finally reached Connor, changing his mind about his father.

Until Connor asked to ‘see’ certain events from Angel’s life with Buffy. And then more events from Buffy’s life after Angel had left. 

That was when Doyle realized it wasn’t him, Doyle, but Buffy. Somehow knowing that the slayer had fallen in love with a souled vampire; that that vampire had given up his rightful place by Nest’s side, had killed Darla, his sire, because Buffy was in danger; had truly become a force for good all for the blonde slayer…all that had changed Connor's mind. 

The betrayals of her friends when it came to her relationship with the vampire, the anger and blindness of her mother over her very lifestyle, the duplicity of Faith, her sister slayer, and Riley who had no idea what a demon hunter was truly like. And no idea what Buffy’s life was really like. The insertion of a sister and the race to protect her…Buffy’s death and resurrection from a beautiful, peaceful place because her friends ‘missed her,’ her friends thought she was ‘in hell’ as if a slayer could ever go to hell. 

Connor had felt an empathy with Buffy Doyle was sure the boy had never before had with anyone. He had learned to accept his father, Angel, because of how Buffy saw him. Of how she accepted him and how she wanted him. Despite the demon, despite the obstacles in their path, the slayer didn’t care about any of that, she only wanted her love.

Doyle tried not to take the fact that it wasn’t his storytelling too personally.

“Keep following it, Connor,” Doyle said now, “Focus solely on that, don’t loose it.”

Doyle wasn’t sure the boy listened to him or was too focused on the thread he was following but suddenly Connor’s eyes snapped open, not their normal blue but a golden white combination that startled the guide. Connor gasped then as if fighting for air, his hands going to his ears as if a great noise sounded only to him.

“Connor!” Doyle shouted, grabbing the boy. “Lad, are you alright?”

It took several long minutes before Connor responded and when he did Doyle wasn’t sure he actually wanted to hear the words.

“Power, too much power, it’s all inside her. How does she control it? It’s a great withering mass that’s focused, all focused on her and…Doyle, it’s beautiful, golden and bright and so beautiful. But it’s so much and I don’t know if she can handle it all.”

”Who?” Doyle asked, confused. “Who has this power, who did you see, Connor?”

“The slayer, Buffy. She has all the power of all the slayers that came before her. She’s going to try and defeat Angelus. But I don’t know if she can.”

Doyle stared at Connor dumbfounded. Why hadn’t he known of this? Was that…yes that had to be the drain then sudden surge of energy he had felt earlier. Buffy had the power of all the slayers inside her? What a great plan…really stupid, but ingenious nonetheless.

“The power shifted again, hasn’t it?” Connor asked when Doyle was silent for so long. “All that power in one person it isn’t meant to be, is it?”

“No, lad,” Doyle said, “No it isn’t. But it’s probably the only way to defeat Angelus; he has all the power of the Turok-Han, more so now that his new sire is dead. And Angel still has work to do here. It’s the only way. I just don’t think it’s going to end well. For any of them.”

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