Lilah Morgan was proud of the way she worked her way up the
ladder in what is commonly, and falsely, referred to as a man’s world…and
how she went even further in a world men fear to tread. Her law firm was
prestigious and multi-dimensional and allowed for all kinds of options in
one’s career.
Or death.
Yes, she thought as she stared out over the awakening city
of Los Angeles from one of the top floors in the building, she was high up in
her world and if there was always someplace higher to go, something more to
achieve, something more to gain, then that was part of the fun. Special projects
was her department and she had intended, when she was first promoted to the
position, to succeed where her predecessor had failed. And she had,
magnificently so…to a point.
The Angel Project was her greatest assignment…and her
greatest and only failure.
Until an enterprising relatively young vampire came to her
with stories of turning the greatest Slayer in history and ridding that pesky
vampire with a soul of his pesky soul. Reports on the street were that she had
succeeded…in the soul department.
Angel had left his precious army behind in Asia without so
much as a by your leave and disappeared. No one had heard from Belinda since the
night of the slayer’s ambush, which had all but devastated their forces and
left no word about the state of the slayer.
Now, as Lilah watched the masses rush to and from their ever so important early morning destinations, never knowing what lay beneath their bustling feet, above their unseeing eyes, around their tiny worlds, she wondered just how great an idea it had been. Angelus was unpredictable at best, could they really hope to control him once he was on their side? And Buffy as a vampire, should the change actually work. That was another wild card.
Slayers were pure and good and the ultimate weapon against evil. They were the
purest of souls, even Faith had been pure, she had just lost her way for a bit
and Wilkins had exploited that. For all that, they had a dark side that rivaled
the most vicious of demons. The ultimate slayer was one of passion and darkness
and the kill. They hunted and killed and reveled in the chase and pain of their
prey.
Ying and Yang, but should the light be snuffed out (again,
should that be possible) and the darkness spread entirely, the result would
be…another Angelus. The two together would be unstoppable and the world might
be plunged into darkness as Wolfram & Hart hoped…but at what cost to them?
Still, there was no word on whether Belinda had been
successful and no word from Angelus since his transformation several long weeks
ago. Lilah was about to call the whole operation a complete waste of time and
resources when her secretary hurriedly knocked on the outer door and rushed
through without waiting an answer.
Lilah held back the sharp reply at her intrusion when she
saw the look on the girl’s face. Carisa knew better than to interrupt without
an acknowledgement from Lilah, if she broke protocol for anything it was going
to be damn good.
“Ms. Morgan…” She stopped, caught her breath. The fate of her job, hell, her life, never registered. Only the fact that she had news for her boss that would make both their standings in the company soar.
“I was at the opera last night, Aida was
playing-”
“Congratulations, Carisa, really,” Lilah couldn’t help the sarcasm that colored her voice. What did this have to do with the flushed face and breathless nature of her assistant?
Lilah’s words barely registered with the younger woman,
let alone the tone of voice. “And you’ll never believe who I saw during the
intermission….”
Before Lilah had a chance to even formulate a reply, Carisa
continued, “Never mind, you’ll never guess…Angelus!”
Floored, Lilah stared at her for a moment, letting
everything sink in. The uncharacteristic ‘Huh?’ that wanted to escape was
ruthlessly pushed aside for the more articulate answer of, “What?”
Nodding as though her head would fall off any moment,
Carisa was all but jumping up and down on the spot. Glancing behind her to make
sure the door was closed – it was, good her job was still intact – she
elaborated. “John, the head of accounting, took me, he knows of my interest in
Ancient Egypt and thought that Aida would be a nice diversion. Well as we
were mingling with a few patrons he knew from the neighboring box, I turned to
look around the lobby…and there he was!”
Voice still not working, Lilah tried to think of the words
to express her next question; was this the answer then? She dared not get her
hopes too high, “Was he with anyone?” She couldn’t imagine Angelus at the
opera at all, let alone by himself when he had only been soulless a scant month.
Nodding eagerly, Carisa closed her eyes and said, as if she
had memorized every detail – which she had, “Blonde, shorter than he, much
shorter despite the heels, blue silk dress. Couldn’t get close enough to see
eye color or anything, no specific features, but I’m 90% sure it was the
slayer.”
Lilah was suddenly grateful she was sitting and when had
that happened? Angelus was with the slayer? This was good; for it meant that
chances were even better that she had been turned. His obsession with the girl
was well known and if he was aware of her change, then…
Then the only logical assumption was that he’d seek her
out.
“And I think they got married, too.”
Now there was something she hadn’t been expecting.
“Married? What? Carisa, vampires do not marry.”
But Carisa was adamant. “Well, then the ring on her
finger meant something else. And the matching one on his was a complete
coincidence. Plus they were talking to someone, didn’t look like a happy
conversation, either. I’m unfamiliar with him, but he looked surprised to see
the couple and for a bit there, looked almost…scared. But the point is that
whatever their conversation was about, it involved the slayer showing this
person her mark.”
At Lilah’s blank look – it was a lot to take in, after
all – Carisa gestured to her throat. “On her neck, the one she got ages ago?
When Angel bit her?”
“My, God,” She cursed to a God she didn’t believe in
and betrayed at every turn of her twisted soul. “They’ve mated. The mark
always proclaimed her his, but this is more.” She gave the younger woman a
sharp look. “Who was this other person?”
Shaking her head, Carisa admitted. “Don’t know, I was
too far away and even by the time I meandered over that direction, the
conversation was mostly over. Couldn’t hear a lot and I didn’t want to be
caught.”
Yeah, that’d blow everything. “Okay, what did he look
like, then?”
“I think he was a vampire. I just got that feeling off
him, though I can’t be sure. Shorter than Angelus, fatter, too.” Political
correctness just wasn’t in her vocabulary this morning. “Um, let me
think…white hair, down to his shoulders. Dead eyes, flat and cold, black.
Accent to his voice. German, maybe, but off somehow; if he is a vampire, it
could just be an older accent.”
Lilah was impressed; the girl had been taught well. “Find
out who he was, I want to know everything about him by lunch. And I want you to
look at pictures of Buffy; if it was indeed the slayer, I want to know. And see
if you can find that bitch Belinda.” As an afterthought, she added, “And
find out all you can about the status of the leaders of their army. If Buffy and
Angelus are indeed together now, their friends and family would be the first to
go.”
Ok, so there had been a small hole in her plan, but this
was working out nicely. Kind of. Now they just needed to judge the couple’s
willingness to work with Wolfram & Hart and bring about the end of the
world, as they knew it. Lilah had a sudden thought that made her wish she
hadn’t thought it.
Angelus and Buffy were to help end the light forever, but
would they willingly give up that power? Her answer, given on a sinking stomach
and sudden headache, was a resounding ‘no.’
**********
Which usually didn’t work, but they had never before had
so much power on their side. So in less than fifteen minutes Giles and Dawn were
hanging from the same shackles that Willow and Spike had occupied a few days
before.
Willow had taken one look at Dawn, so young and innocent
looking hanging by her chafing wrists and had to hold herself back from pouncing
on the girl, draining the energy straight from her. She held herself in check
though, and had dragged Spike to their rooms to assuage some tension.
Angelus laughed at their obviousness before turning back to the man whom he had already had the pleasure of torturing. His fun, this time, was not to be as Buffy insisted that she wanted Giles in one piece when she turned him. It was almost the night of the full moon, and she wanted Giles there.
Shrugging at that, it again came down to whatever she wanted she got, Angelus
turned to his lover. “And Dawn? No torture for her?”
Buffy wound her arms around him, drawing him closer. “I
don’t care. If we can’t turn her, Willow gets to drain the power from her. I
promised.” She licked his lips, teasing him. “But if you want a go at her,
feel free. I don’t care.”
“Hmm, I’d rather a go at you.” He said before picking
her up and devouring her mouth with his. He never got tired of tasting her, the
coolness of her mouth, the softness of her skin. The unique flavor of her
intimate juices that flowed from her body in abundance…all for him. Everything
about her he was addicted to.
Taste, touch, scent, the moans and cries for him, the sight
of her naked and waiting for him. It turned him on like nothing ever had before,
to the point where just the thought of her made him hard and aching.
His mouth traced a path from her lips across her cheekbones
and over her temple to the soft ridges of her vampire forehead. Down her nose,
back to her mouth to tease her lips with promises before thrusting his tongue
in, deliberately cutting himself on her fangs.
Her whimper for him spurred him on, making him go slower,
tease more, promise but not deliver.
As his mouth pleasured her own, his long fingers trailed
over bare shoulders and arms to play with the ring he had given her. Back up to
lightly skip across her chest, to slide under the thin straps of her top, slowly
pulling them down to expose skin hungry for his mouth.
Downward he went, lips light and soft, leaving her
trembling in his arms. Over the mark on her neck, one of his favorite spots, to
her shoulder and arms, lifting her hand, to tenderly trace her ring. Back up to
repeat the route with her other arm. Across collarbone to swirl his tongue in
the hollow of her sensitive throat.
Abruptly he kneeled before her, lifting her shirt up
slowly, inch by pleasurable inch, kissing each exposed section of skin as he
went. When he reached her breasts, he drew the top completely off her, leaving
it in a pool on the ground. Almost reverently, if such a word could be applied
to him, he followed the veins on her nearly translucent skin, circling the
areola before biting down hard on the nipple, fangs drawing traces of blood.
Repeating the process on Buffy’s other breast, he moved
his hands to her hips, holding her upright for his pleasure and hers. The skirt,
short as it was, soon joined her top, forgotten on the stone floor. She had long
ago given up underwear as it usually ended up ripped off and tossed someplace
and now, as Angelus’ mouth found her core, wet and ready just for him, Buffy
had no cause to regret her decision.
Suddenly picking her up, her walked the few steps to the
throne chair in the center of the floor and sat, still paying homage to her
upper body. Standing her on her feet for a few precious seconds while he
disrobed, Angelus then sat in the chair, pulling her down with him. Buffy moved
her hips, silently begging him for completion. The pleasure of this unexpected
gentleness stunned her, aroused her unbelievably until words were beyond her.
Smiling, Angelus asked, “Is this what you wanted,
love?”
Buffy nodded; pleased he had remembered her desire to test
out the chair, but hoped he’d take her soon. She was quivering with need and
wasn’t sure how much more she could handle before she simply exploded. He
brought her to him, hands scraping ever so lightly over her thighs and buttocks,
coming teasingly close to her wet core but refusing to assuage her need. He
lifted her, just enough to catch her lips in a bruising kiss.
Settling her legs comfortably on the cushion, Buffy placed
her hands on Angelus’ shoulders and sank down, taking him all the way in her,
sighing at the consummation of her desire. She wanted fast, consumed with need
for him, for completion. He insisted on slow, guiding her hips to the rhythm he
set.
And as she peaked, cool silken walls convulsing around him,
drawing out his own orgasm, Angelus crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her
cries of passion and release. Not because he was loathed to wake their
prisoners, but because he wanted – needed – that part of her as well.
They lay, spent in each other’s arms, enjoying the
comfort of the other’s embrace. Knowing that whatever it was between them –
a bottomless well of lust and desire, love, need, obsession – was ultimately
unimportant.
Angelus had no need to explain anything to anyone, let
alone his and Buffy’s relationship. He knew if not completely understood what
lay between them and knew she did as well. That was all that mattered.
Well, that and ruling the world.
~~~~~~~~
Spike began the long and arduous task of gathering
information in the demon community. It was difficult at first as just about
everyone had heard that he and Angelus had been fighting for the side of good. A
few well placed fists and a drop or two of his Sire’s real name quickly ended
any and all discussion.
That and the fact that Willow had power streaming off her
in almost visible waves.
Many demons and all of the older vamps knew of Angelus’
reputation. These were the easy ones. They figured that if he was back, then
their side just got a whole lot luckier. And, being semi-smart demons, they
wanted in on the ground floor.
The younger ones, or those who hadn’t bothered to keep up
with (then) current affairs, were harder. But much more fun to convince. God it
was good to be back! He had worried for a while there that that damn chip had
destroyed his baser instincts. Nope, it hadn’t.
And there were several dead bodies for the police that
night, drained of their life’s blood and mollifying, somewhat, Spike’s need
to test himself, to prove himself as a vampire again.
By the end of the night Spike had what he came for. Willow
had gotten to torture several uncooperative beings, draining their life energies
as she would have their blood had it been compatible with vampire demonology.
The demon community prepared to follow a new leader, never realizing the
surprise he had in store for them.
And Damon was about to be very sorry he had ever survived long enough to meet up with Angelus again. Let alone the combination of Angelus and Buffy and their twisted minds. Between the two of them Spike would bet they knew every way to inflict suffering on any being stupid or crazy enough to cross their paths.
Wouldn’t this be a fun time.
~~~~~~~~
“How long do you think it’ll be before they wake?”
Buffy asked, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.
“A while yet, why, anxious to begin?” His hands moved
over her naked body, listening to the way her skin responded to his touch, the
way her scent shifted as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.
“Hmm, yes, but that wasn’t why I was asking.” Raising
her head, she smiled at him, running her tongue over his lips; an act she knew
drove him crazy with need for her.
“No?” Gently biting down on her tongue, he drew it into
his mouth, sucking lightly.
“I was thinking more along the lines of training.”
Raising a sardonic eyebrow, Angelus laughed. “Does this
involve sharp swords and little or no clothing?”
Sliding off his hard body, Buffy smiled. “Yes, and
anything else you want.”
*********
Willow stretch out beside a still Spike. He wasn’t
breathing, wasn’t moving at all, he looked truly dead. Maybe she had broken
him with this last bout of wild sex. But no, his eyes were opening and the look
in them said that everything they had done together was well worth it. Smiling,
she ran her hands over his smooth hard chest, tweaking the nipples before
settling into his arms.
She wasn’t so much into the after sex cuddling stage
anymore, but Willow could admit that it was nice, once in a while, just to lay
with her lover. Besides, she argued with herself, she was too tired to move.
Yes, that was it.
“I’m going to bring my parents here,” She said out of
the blue. “I’ve been neglected most of my life and I think they need a
lesson in raising a child with love and affection.”
Spike said nothing. He knew how her parents had treated her
and didn’t blame her one bit if she wanted a little revenge. “Are you going
to let me in on the fun, love?”
The slow smiled that shifted over her lips gave him a
start. Damn it, soul or no soul, he was doomed to always love no matter what his
baser demon instincts demanded. And maybe with Willow it’d actually last.
“Why do you want to help?”
“Seems a good time.” Then because he had always
promised her honestly and figured a promise like that carried over into their
new states, he admitted, “I don’t blame you for wanting to go after them.
I’m actually kind of surprised you waited this long. And I already told you
that I’m with you, so…” He trailed off, not knowing how to finish his
sentence. Apparently it didn’t matter to Willow as she just grinned at him and
resettled her head on his chest.
They lay like that a while, quiet, reflecting on their
relationship, or lack thereof, or whatever, recovering their strength. There was
still about an hour until sunset and Spike had planned a surprise for his lover.
It was something they had never had time for before, what with the fighting and
all, and now seemed as good a time as any. A show of affection? Maybe, but it
was something that he knew she’d enjoy.
“Come on,” he said, sitting up, swinging his legs over
the side of the bed.
“Where are we going?” The look in her eye was pure
lust. And maybe a spark of something else, too, but Spike couldn’t be sure and
was afraid to hope. Goddess, he was a pathetic demon sometimes.
“I’m thinking bath. That damn tub is big enough for a
family of four, no sense letting it go to waste. Plus there are some interesting
uses for those jets.”
Willow rose and followed him, desire surging through her
veins. She really couldn’t get enough of him. No complaints, true, but it was
a little…disturbing. Spike had already started filling the tub, adding some
bath salts to the water before turning to look at her.
Damn she was beautiful. She stopped a foot from him,
waiting. What was this, then? Not caring, Spike grabbed her by her shoulders and
kissed her roughly. She eagerly met his tongue, grinding herself into his
erection.
Breaking the kiss as quickly as it had started, Spike
demanded, “On your knees.”
She complied without hesitation, resting her pale ass on
the heels of her feet, staring up at him. Digging his fingers into her hair
Spike thrust his cock into her willing mouth, groaning as her tongue swirled
over the tip.
“All the way.” He said, pushing deeper into her. And
hissed her name as she scraped her teeth lightly over the underside. Pistoning
in and out of her mouth, all thought gone but her as her hands came up to fondle
his heavy balls. He felt her face shift, felt her fang scrape his sensitive cock
and couldn’t control the release that flashed flooded through him.
He came hard and fast, shouting her name even as his own
face morphed and his nails dug into her scalp, drawing thin trails of blood.
Willow raised her eyes, still milking his orgasm, and without comment lifted her
wrist to his mouth. As his fangs sank into her wrist, Willow felt her own orgasm
flood through her and she ground her throbbing clit into the cool tiles of the
bathroom floor.
Releasing his now flaccid penis, Willow looked up at him,
wondering what he had in mind next. Flicking off the faucets, Spike turned the
jets on and stepped into the hot water. Looking at her from over the rim of the
tub, he raised an eyebrow when she made no move to join him. Good.
“Come in, Willow.” He gestured, and when she did so,
grasped her by the hips, impaling her on his hard cock. It never took long for
him to harden around her, just the scent of her made him want to explode.
Positioning her against the shooting jets, Spike allowed
the streaming water to stimulate her clitoris as he pounded into her from
behind. Teeth latched onto her neck, not breaking the skin, just holding her
there in a sign of dominance.
He had worried, when they first started having sex, that
their appetites would be divergent. It seemed that the little red head enjoyed
the roughness of vampiric sex; had in fact, reveled in it. Good thing the chip
didn’t consider some of their rougher times violence against a human or
whatever the bloody thing was programmed for; they’d both have been in
trouble.
Then she’d been turned and he’d been rid of that
irritating little thing known as a soul and again he wasn’t sure if things
would work out between them.
He’d been wrong and now, as he shouted her name, his
cold, dead semen coating her inner most walls, her wetness clinging to him,
drawing him deeper, drawing more out of him, he was grateful to Angelus for one
thing at least. Without the soul he could enjoy his life again, could enjoy the
baser nature of his demon.
~~~~~~~~~~
Spike lifted his lover out of the tub, hitting the drain as
he did so. He’d have to talk to Angelus, or maybe Buffy, about hiring a
cleaning person or making a minion or something equally useful; they’d all
been pretty much enjoying themselves these past days too much for work like
that.
Master vampires did not clean bathrooms. And there was a
fine layer of dust coating the surface of everything. Actually Spike was a
little surprised at that, Angelus always considered himself above other
vampires, wanting his current residence clean and luxurious. Guess screwing the
(former) slayer distracted him from other things. Bastard.
“Get dressed, love. We’re going out tonight.” He had
recovered surprisingly fast from his beating and now didn’t want to waste
another moment. Plus, he didn’t want to be in the same house as Angelus any
longer than he had to. Too much unresolved animosity towards his sire. That and
Spike resented his ‘I’m the Master around here’ attitude. Oh, and the
whole Buffy thing. Yeah, that really pissed him off.
Not that he and Buffy had ever resumed their
previous…relationship after his reensoulment, but it was the fact of the
matter. At least now with Angelus all Buffy whipped (again) Spike was pretty
much free to do as he pleased.
Willow sat up, rotating the kinks out of her shoulders.
“Where are we going?”
“A picnic in the park; it’ll have to be closer to
midnight, too many nosy people out before then, but I’m thinking a nice walk,
get out of here for a bit. A little hunting, too, of course. Assuming our guests
don’t wake anytime soon.”
Willow looked at her lover a strange mixture of lust and affection in her eyes.
She didn’t think she could ever love him, but this was close, wasn’t it? It
was something. “A picnic, really?” Leaning over, she kissed him hungrily
before moving her lips to his neck, sucking the dead pulse point into her mouth.
“I love it. But what I really want now is you…again.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Shelia and Ira Rosenberg knew their daughter was into
something, they were just unsure what it could possibly be. There was that one
incident years ago in high school regarding witchcraft, but other than
that…oh, and that musician. Whatever happened to him, anyway?
They hadn’t seen their Willow in months, she had kept in
touch, brief notes saying how she was loving seeing the world, how much she was
learning, but her last message had been weeks ago and some small part of them
began to worry.
And then a conference came up in Cleveland and they forgot
about her again.
“Where do you think she is, Ira?” Shelia asked several
weeks after their latest conference, as she prepared to sit and proof her paper
one last time. It was on ‘The Psychological Effects of Mythos and
Teenagers.’ She still wasn’t completely pleased with the title, but decided
to work on that after her final proofreading.
“Hmm, who?” Looking up from his own work Ira suddenly
remembered. “Oh, Willow. I’m sure she’s having a grand time in Europe, all
those historical settings and research materials.”
His wife nodded and returned to her reading. After several
moments her pen hovered over a particularly personal paragraph. “Dear, do you
think I should include that little incident we had when Willow thought she was a
witch?”
“Is it relevant to the topic?”
“Yes, witches, demons, vampires, they’re all
covered.”
“I don’t see why not, then. It is scientific research
after all. I’m sure Willow is beyond that stage now, and she’ll want others
to learn from her youthful mistakes.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
And they went back to their work, sitting in their living
room in a suburban house on top of the mouth to hell. Never realizing that the
denial they still shared with half of the town was about to come back and bite
them in the ass…literally.
*********
But Buffy, his slayer, his daughter, that was something he
wanted to remember until he took his last breathe on this earth…and beyond.
She was the one being on this miserable planet he took pride in, the one thing
he had done right.
When she died, he had been lost. Those months between her
death to save Dawn and protect the world from too many demon dimensions to count
had been the longest of his life and he wished never to repeat the experience.
As he sat in the tent that served as their base of operations in what was once
Sunnydale, he watched over Dawn tossing and turning in a fitful sleep.
Raising a glass of scotch to his lips and drinking deeply,
he sympathized, absolutely, but wondered if whoever it was that said no parent
should have to watch a child die had gone through it twice.
The first time she’d been gone seconds, and he hadn’t
really been there, thank God. The prophecy was enough to send him into a
tailspin for days, nothing able to calm him not even Angel’s reassurances that
they’d find a way around it.
When she had walked in, wearing that white dress her mother
had bought her for whatever dance it was that weekend, he’d been more than
relieved, and he had known in those moments that the relationship between them
was closer than it ought to be…and he hadn’t cared.
It was when she had sacrificed herself to the Key’s
magick that he’d lost it. Even after her miraculous return – thanks to
Willow and whatever Power had allowed her to succeed – things hadn’t been
the same. He had left because he had been afraid to loose her again, he’d not
be able to survive a third time, he was sure. Plus he had heard rumors while in
England, and realized that he was not the only one disillusioned with the
council.
But he had returned because she was his daughter, because
she needed him and because he needed her.
But this last time, when no one knew what had happened, who
had killed her for if she had been alive then surely she’d find a way back to
them. It was this time that he’d realized that his curse for caring too much
was to see his only daughter die – seemingly repeatedly – before he had
attained that blessed peace. Theoretically, Giles had known that as watcher
he’d have to survive her death…it was the in practice that got him.
And he doubted any other watcher in the history of the
Council had had to go through it three damn miserable times.
So as he slowly regained consciousness, Giles’ first thought was that he’d too much to drink the previous day and that was the cause of the pounding in his head. Things were looking grim for their side; first Buffy then Xander, then Willow and even Spike. Someone was systematically destroying their leadership and he could only imagine who it was.
Then again, at the moment, he couldn’t imagine anything more than a bottle of
aspirin or maybe to pass out again.
“Ouch, what the hell…?” Even his voice hurt, causing
his ears to echo painfully with the sound of his words. This was not his day.
Cautiously he opened his eyes, hoping the sun had at least
set by now. Ah, sweet darkness. Wait a minute, there was something else here
that he was missing. How much had he drunk last night, anyway?
Focusing blurry eyes through glasses he didn’t remember
wearing the night before, on the scene in front of him he realized that this was
not his tent, not even the camp. It was a…basement? How on earth did he come
to be here? Wherever here was.
Raising his head in a slow careful movement, he looked around and for the first time noticed that his arms didn’t move. Maybe that accounted for some of the pain he was feeling. Looking up, he noticed that yes, they were indeed chained.
What the hell had happened?
Trying to ignore the thirst that plagued him, he looked
around again with eyes that were focusing more clearly by the moment. Standing,
well, chained and hanging limply next to him was Dawn, still out of it.
Captured, okay, Giles got that. But by whom? And how had
they managed to bypass their security and protection spells…?
A horrible thought began to form, one he didn’t wish to
fully think, but it was there anyway, pestering him to acknowledge it. There
were few people in this dimension who could accomplish what had obviously
happened. Several were on their side, but there were others, too, of course.
And then there was Willow.
Giles had seen, first hand, what she could do with her
magicks. Had seen the power and destruction and sheer magnitude that she was
able to wield when she fully embraced the dark arts.
And hoped that he was wrong.
Had she lost control in her grief for lost friends? Had she
abandoned their cause even before reports of her abduction? Or had she willingly
left, choosing to re-embrace the darkness because she had lost too many people
in their fight?
Dawn began to wake just then, as disoriented as he had
first been, scant moments ago, and still blissfully ignorant. “Ow, what hit
me?”
Her eyes opened and focused immediately on Giles hanging
next to her, “Giles? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, Dawn, but I have a feeling we’re about
to find out.” He didn’t want to alarm the girl, powerful though she was, but
he had a feeling that whoever or whatever was about to walk through the heavy
wooden door was not going to offer them tea and scones.
The room was dim, lit only by two torches on either side of
the room, leaving the prisoners bathed in light but the rest of the room dark.
Giles heard more than saw the door open, and suddenly wished – futile though
it was – he had still been drunk. Or indeed dead.
No, definitely not his day.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy and Angelus had discussed their approach to their new
guests. Willow had wanted to immediately charge in, drain Dawn of all power and
experiment. She had grudgingly agreed to wait, see if the girl could be turned
and had gone back to their rooms with Spike, experimenting there if the sounds
were any indication.
Deciding that the direct approach was best; go in, tell
Giles the deal, listen for a moment or two to his stuttering protests, then
drain and turn him. The next question was who got the honors of draining him?
Usually the vampire who drained the victim, turned them. But in this case, both
wanted a taste of the former watcher.
Buffy’s argument had been simple: “You got to kill your
father, at least let me kill mine.” And it was settled.
They had been in what was once the dinning room, working on
their hand to hand combat and with swords and battle-axes and indulging in some
serious foreplay when the monitor started projecting voices from the basement.
Whoever had previously owned the mansion hadn’t been the trusting sort and had
installed video cameras in several rooms, including his precious wine cellar.
Breaking apart as they tried to devour each other’s
mouths, Angelus turned to the screens he and Buffy had moved to a more
convenient location, recruiting Willow to help with the reinstallation of the
wires and whatnot. Walking closer, though his eyes saw everything that went on
in the gloomy room, Angelus couldn’t help but smile.
“Looks like our visitors are awake, love.” He pulled
her closer again, kissing her deeply. “Should we get Willow, too? They are,
after all, your team.”
“Hmm, okay.” She let her hand glide down his bare
chest, making her reluctance clear. “I’m thinking that Willow may want Dawn
even if the child could be turned. I did promise, after all. And remember; I get
Giles. You can have Wesley.”
Angelus frowned, but agreed. “He’s just not as much
fun. Giles is so much better at resisting torture; Wesley is a…wuss. Although
I’m sure he’d be a screamer.” An unholy gleam sparkled in his eyes at that
thought. It was so much more fun when they screamed.
Laughing, Buffy pulled him in for a final long kiss before
taking his hand and asking, “Shall we, my love? Daylight’s a wasting.”
~~~~~~~~
Willow and Spike were taking a nap – or maybe had passed
out from too much sex if the heady smell was any indication – when Angelus and
Buffy knocked and walked in without waiting for a reply. “Willow,” Buffy
snapped, waking her friend instantly.
Stretching across the expanse of the bed, unashamed of her
nakedness, Willow looked over at the couple and smiled in appreciation and
invitation. “If you guys wanted to join us, all you had to do was ask.”
Buffy smiled, lust and irreverent appeal shining through,
“Hmm, maybe next time.” Turning slightly at Angelus’ growl of possession
– he really didn’t like anyone else looking at, let alone touching, her –
Buffy added, “Our guests are awake.”
Willow returned Buffy’s smile, anticipation sparkling in
her eyes. “Oh, good, the fun begins.”
Poking Spike in the chest, she leaned over and bit his
shoulder enough to draw a bit of blood. Lapping it up, she asked, “Coming to
watch the festivities, lover?”
“Wouldn’t miss them.”
Angelus spun Buffy around, partly because the smell of so much sex and blood in the air was getting to him and partly because he didn’t want her seeing a naked Spike – he still had serious issues with that – and kissed her soundly. Sucking on her lower lip, drawing tiny droplets of blood, he purred as her hands roamed downwards, caressing him through the tight leather pants.
He really couldn’t get enough of her.
Clearing her throat, Willow smirked at the display in front
of her, “Ah, you two ready?”
~~~~~~~~~
Buffy walked through the oak door, anticipation screaming
through her. Four days left until the full moon and she wanted to be ready. And
she wanted Giles there. Wiggling her tongue on one of her fangs, Buffy forced
herself to calm, shift back into her human guise, and walk sedately over the
wall.
Dawn was the first to spot her. “Buffy! My God, you’re
alive!”
Giles was silent but for a faint gasp. Waiting, knowing
he’d catch on; Buffy couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her
features when a single tear streaked down his face.
“No, Dawn, she’s not.” Clearing his throat from all
emotion, Giles asked the (former) slayer, “When did it happen, Buffy. Who did
this?”
His answer walked through the door at the moment, swaggering across the floor a happy smirk adorning his face. “Wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Dawn, clearly at a loss for words, parroted, “Not? Happened? Angel?”
“Wrong, little sister, Angelus. And what do you think
happened? I swear, Dawn, sometimes you’re incredibly slow.”
Dawn’s mouth dropped a bit further in shock. And that
feeling that had been plaguing her since she awoke, the one that said
‘beware’ in big bold neon letters, flashed before her. Too little, too late.
“Angelus, you did this, then?” Still only the barest
emotion from Giles and that only from the thought that Angelus had turned his
precious daughter. And how on earth had that happened? In that instant he was
resigned to his situation, almost glad that his life – filled with such pain
and suffering – was about to end, that he’d not have to witness a vampire
Buffy and Angelus destroying the world they had all fought so long and hard to
save.
“No, actually, I didn’t. Someone else did, Belinda,
Nest’s childe.” He slipped his arm around Buffy, down her front clearly
marking her as his. “Took care of her in short order, she had no idea with
whom she was dealing, really. Xander, too, if you were wondering.” Angelus
flicked his tongue out, running it along Buffy’s ear, smiling at the purr that
escaped her.
“Willow and Spike, too?” Dawn’s voice sounded so very
young and incredibly scared. Perfect.
“Naturally,” Buffy laughed. “Willow….” On cue,
Willow waltzed in, Spike by her side.
“Well, isn’t this cozy.” She said, the torchlight
gleaming off her pitch-black hair. “Have you told him yet?”
“No, wanted the gang all here for that.” Buffy turned
back to her mentor. “You’re not going to die, Giles. I need you for
something.”
Since that went against everything that had been flashing
through his brain, it took the watcher a moment to grasp her words. “I’m
not?”
He sounded confused, lost…and just the smallest bit
disappointed. Peace, release, haven…they sounded so perfect that Giles
couldn’t help but wish for them. His soul was heavy and so tired. All he
wanted to do was rest. It seemed that even that was denied him.
“Of course not! Well, technically, yes. But I want you
with me. And I want you to witness our Union. It just wouldn’t be the same
without you.”
No, definitely not his day.
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