236 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go…  

So they sat back and waited. They waited for the story to play out and for the next stage to be born. They wait and watched. And as the story unfolded, as he laid out the past, testing and prodding the young one before him, they knew this was how it was meant to be told.  

Weakness was physical and could not be helped. 

It was also something that she knew was hers, knew was never going away, and knew could be used to her advantage. More importantly, this weakness would bring what she wanted most…and, consequently, what he did as well. The air around her sang in such high spirits, it sang of death and misery, of pain and destruction. Mostly, it sang that time was growing near and that before she’d seen one year here, things would change. 

For the better, Drusilla, crazed childe of Angelus and paramour of Spike, would say, “They were all changes for the better,” she giggled, twirling in the moonlight. 

Events were already in motion to put everything where she wanted it, where…they needed it. Things weren’t as they seemed, though she would play her part to perfection because that was what was needed, and she needed things to be that way. She’d do that because that was what was expected of her, it was what was needed to ensure the final victory. 

It was what the air demanded and fate provided. 

Actually, it was simply delicious. And as Spike carefully helped her out of the car, as he held her so protectively against him, promising her that the energies from the Hellmouth would heal her, Drusilla smiled. She smiled because she knew they would, because she knew they would bring her things, beautiful shiny things, and take things away from her. Because she knew that one could never thwart destiny and that when one tried, bad, bad things happened. 

A century ago, a clan of gypsies tried to do just that, tried to see to it that her wonderful, beautiful Angel withered and died. Little did they know that by cursing him with that awful soul they did more to guarantee his destiny than anyone could have guessed. They saw to it, with their vengeance and short sightedness, that Angelus was where he needed to be when he was needed. 

Ah, yes, Drusilla sighed, things were coming together nicely now.
~~~~~~~~~~
165 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go…  

“Then again,” Drusilla murmured as Spike stormed out of their room. “There’s always something to be said for self-preservation.” 

Drusilla so wanted to be strong again, wanted to hunt and fight, wanted to be all she was before and more. She should’ve known that the slayer would save her Angel before the ritual was completed, but really, it was enough. Drusilla was strong once more, and her visions no longer took so much out of her. In fact, since the infusion of Sire Blood, the visions were clarity the likes of which she’d never had before. 

With Angel’s blood once more within her, Drusilla saw that future she so long dreamed of in vivid colors, strong, bright, harsh, mean. Hatred and fear pulsated through her as she thought about the future, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized. Ah, yes, Angel’s blood did more for her than restore her to her rightful strength. 

It also gave her an idea. There were so many things she wanted to do but she couldn’t. The stars that shone with her daddy would be angry when they discovered her indiscretions and daddy would yell and punish her, would beat her. Drusilla intended for that not to happen. She had plans for daddy and the stars, plans that would play out because she needed them to. He needed them to. 

Drusilla knew what Angelus wanted and she was going to help him get it.
~~~~~~~~~~
126 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go…  

“I love you.” 

She was sure. Buffy was definitely sure. If this whole Judge incident had taught her one thing, it was that life was short, hers shorter than most, and that the man she loved more than anything was not as immune to death as she’d previously shouted at him. 

Granted, that had been because she was scared she was about to die, and okay, she had. She wanted to strike out at her nearest and dearest, and he was definitely high on that list. But that wasn’t the point. Angel could have died tonight same as her, and there was no coming back from that. Mouth to mouth resuscitation was one thing, vampire ashes in the wind quite another.

Ash was ash, and it was very hard to reconstruct that into any semblance of a human – or vampire – no matter what magicks one employed. 

Angel’s cool tongue traced her collarbone, his lips lightly kissing a cool path down to her breast, laving the pert nipple with his tongue, biting gently and smiling at the sound of her breathless gasp. His mouth feasting on her breast, lapping the hardening nipple with his tongue again and again, his hands stroking her body…soft and teasing here, harder and more demanding there. 

Fire, so long banked – banked due to her youth and calling, and his past and shame at that past – erupted between the new lovers, engulfing them, carrying them away from any semblance of reality. And they had embraced it, embraced it because they wanted to, needed to, and could, finally, they could. 

It was as if he already knew all the ways to pleasure her, all her secrets. Gently he scrapped his teeth over the straining nipple, causing her to gasp his name in pure shocked pleasure. And twine her hands in his short wet hair, holding him closer for...she knew not what. But she wanted it, oh how she wanted it. 

Blazing a hot opened mouth trail across his jaw, down his neck, Buffy relished every taste, every moan, and every ounce of pleasure her lover provided, wanting more, wanting it all. Angel’s fingers slowly moved down her body caressing, molding, touching, to circle her small bundle of nerves, tormenting her. 

“Please, Angel,” she begged, needing whatever it was he gave her, “Please.” 

It was a strangled whimper, though she was only partly aware of what she was asking, and when he finally acquiesced and his fingers found her center, she bucked hard against his hand from the sheer pleasure of this wild new sensation. Her teeth sank into his shoulder, even as the first waves of her orgasm washed through her, over her, surrounding her. 

He was going insane; she was driving him mad. He wanted her more than anything and, now that she was finally his, nothing was going to take her away from him. Entering her wet heat slowly, so as not to cause her undo pain, Angel again closed his mouth over hers, tongues dueling for the sheer pleasure of doing so, of tasting and feeling. Slowly, so as to savor every touch, every whisper, every sensation, they began to move. 

She was on fire, molten heat raced through her, only to be soothed by Angel’s cool skin blanketing her. Buffy wrapped her legs high upon Angel’s waist, a movement she was not aware of doing, only knowing that she desperately wanted him closer, deeper, more. Gasping in pure pleasure as he slid into her, touching her very core, she scraped her nails down his back, pulling him closer still. 

Close enough to become one with each other. 

Clasping hands, ring to ring, holding tightly onto each other, whispering words of love and devotion, they fell over the edge of passion, flying with each other as they soared together. The blinding golden light that encircled them as they found their release could be chalked up to an intense climax, days and months of pent-up emotions finally, finally, coming to the inevitable conclusion that was their love. 

They lay wrapped around each other, unwilling to move, holding tightly onto what they had. This beautiful, miraculous thing they had just made. Angel’s hand moved to caress her face as Buffy curled snugly to his side smiling, drowsy, content, loved. 

“I love you, Angel.” Buffy said, tracing his face as she looked into his warm brown eyes. “I love you so much, I love all of you, so very much.”

“I love you, mo cridhe, mo gràdh,” He whispered before closing his eyes, a happy, content smile on his face even in sleep. 

All of him, she loved all of him…
~~~~~~~~~~
“I’m not happy pet.” Spike announced from his wheelchair, “Angel and the Slayer are still alive. They know where we are, they know about the Judge. We should be vacating.” 

“Nonsense,” said Drusilla, making perfect sense as she walked to his side and took his hand in hers. She knew what was happening, or about to happen, or would be happening, and all they needed to do was wait for the proper time. 

“It’s all about time, now,” she smiled. Spike looked at her strangely, and Drusilla kissed his cheek. “They’ll not disturb us here. My Angel’s too smart to face the Judge again.” 

“What’s Big Blue up to anyway?” asked Spike, glancing dismissively over his shoulder to where the Judge was kneeling in front of some storage racks, and then back to Dru, “He just sits there.” 

“I am preparing.” Big Blue himself responded without turning his head. 

“Yeah. It’s interesting to me that preparing looks a great bit like sitting on your ass.” Spike informed him, wheeling over to face him. “When do we destroy the world already?” 

Tut, tut, Drusilla thought with a secret smile that could easily be mistaken for conspiracy in Spike and the Judge’s conversation. “No destroying the world without my Angel. He’ll need to be there for that,” she whispered. But neither heard her. 

“My strength grows and with every life I take it will increase further.” 

“So let’s take some. I’m bored.” 

“Nooo!” Drusilla suddenly started moaning. Her world was spinning with lights only she could see. Was this it then? Was this what she’d been waiting for? 

Spike looked over in concern, the Judge instantly forgotten, “Dru?” 

She didn’t reply, instead collapsing on the floor and beginning to cry. “Angel…” she moaned, painfully delighted. This was what she awaited. And the world suddenly became so much darker, a much better place. The stars were winking out, all but one bright beautiful light. 

“Dru?” Spike maneuvered the wheelchair until he was at her side, and asked, “What is it? Darling…do you see something?” She didn’t respond, looking intently at the visions that played before her. 

She had complete faith in several things, her daddy included. Her visions were first, of course, as they’d yet to lie to her. And they told her such wonderful things of the future; things she was sure were going to come true. It was a gloriously dark future, with a sudden twist she hadn’t expected, and one she looked forward to with increasing pleasure. 

Smiling in delight, Dru whispered, “She’s started it, she can’t stop it now. The stars are born tonight and she’s the mummy of them all.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Angelus awoke, disoriented.

What the…? Where the…? 

The alley looked filthy, and he was disgusted to find himself flat on it. What had just happened and why did he feel…free? 

“Oh, yeah, baby, free.” A smile spread across his face and he took stock once more; that damnable soul was gone, vanished like it was nothing and good riddance to it! Things came crashing back; from the moment that gypsy magick started its mojo on him to this very second. 

Pain misery, his own, too much of his own, goodness, by the Dark Lords, what was with the goodness? It permeated his very being, its stench seeping deep inside his pours. And ah, this love, love for the slayer. At the thought another pang went through him and Angelus wondered what it was. He couldn’t seem to will away the thought, the feeling away, though he tried, oh, Angelus certainly tried.

Cringing, he did the only thing he could think of. 

He drained the hooker as quickly as he could, willing the taste of guilt and goodness out of his system. It helped, but only slightly. 

“This is ridiculous,” he scowled; he needed to do more than drain one pathetic prostitute who tasted of drugs and misery…actually, the misery was a nice touch. But he wanted more. 

Looking around, he quickly discerned where he landed and backtracked. Buffy awaited him and he wanted to see his little slayer. No, not his, definitely not his, though that pang went though him again at the thought of her. Well, okay, yes his. 

His to take, his to conquer, his to torture, his to kill. She made him (not him, damn it!) feel things he never wanted to again. Goodness, hope, love. 

There was that damnable pang again, and Angelus was beginning to see a pattern. It had to do with Buffy and love. He really needed to do something about that. He didn’t feel love. His weakling childer might, but he wasn’t them, he was stronger, better, and he didn’t need that weak human emotion.

Then again, he, Angelus, had never truly felt love so…best not to think on it too much. 

The sex wasn’t that bad, true, she needed to learn a thing or two, possibly more, about how to please him, but…wait, what was he thinking? No pleasing there was no pleasing. Except maybe when he gorged himself on her blood, yes that would be pleasing, that would be more than pleasing. 

Somehow that image didn’t hold the appeal he thought it would, and Angelus didn’t want to think why. 

“Because she’ll leave,” he said, though he hadn’t realized he’d done so aloud. “She’d never stay for me.”

With a roar, Angelus let his fist fly into the alley wall. It didn’t matter. What did it matter if she left or not? Damn her, “Damn her! This is all her fault” It didn’t matter if she stayed or went, it was unimportant. She was unimportant. 

Her fault…yes, this was her fault, wasn’t it? It was because of her that he was free of that ridiculous soul. It was because of Buffy that he no longer howled under the chains binding him as second in his own damn body.

Why deny himself?

“Why indeed?” His voice had returned to its normal sultry tones as he forced his anger beneath the surface. “Dear, dear Buff. There’s no reason to,” he said as he made his way back to the dark, dank apartment. No reason why he couldn’t torment her a little, fuck her a lot, break her until she depended on him for everything, then kill her.

Now that was a plan. (His darling slayer, his woman, his, his, his.)

Quietly opening the door, Angelus moved silently across the floor, eyes trained on the blonde in his bed. His bed. His blonde.

She was beautiful, an exquisite beauty with so much potential, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Running the back of his hand over her smooth, warm cheek, Angelus allowed himself a moment to simply revel in her. In her warmth, in her love which shone off her even now in sleep, in her beauty, in her body. He allowed himself to ponder the possibilities of forever.  

(His woman, his lover. No one else could touch her.)  

Would it be so bad to be the sole recipient of all that passion, all that hunger? And yes even the inexplicableness of her love? It would take some doing; he’d have to eliminate her annoying friends, her pathetic Watcher, her worthless mother…but nothing he couldn’t manage. Should he choose to do so.  

His hand gently sifted through hair as soft as silk, spreading the strands across his pillow. Beautiful. Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself; there was much he needed to learn about the mettle of his current obsession before he decided that she was a fitting mate to the Scourge of Europe.

“So beautiful, my little slayer.”

Abruptly pulling away, he turned sharply and stalked out of the apartment when he realized how much his actions revealed. Revealed about how reluctant he was to leave the apartment, and how desperately... (Desperated to feel her, to touch her, to taste her.)  

How desperately, he wanted her to wake and know it was he, Angelus, standing before her. Not the looser he had been living under for the last century.  

And how desperately he hungered for her to beg him to stay...

No feelings, none, he had no feelings for her. Except the torturing and maiming ones. And possibly the fucking until she couldn’t take another second ones. Yes, those feelings were ones he’d revel in; those were feelings he’d acknowledge. He wouldn’t acknowledge any others, no matter what he may or may not feel for his blonde.

Because he did not feel anything for her.

There were other things to do first, Angelus decided as he stalked through the darkened streets. But he’d be back for his little beauty.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I’ve named all the stars,” Dru said with a smile as she gazed at the ceiling. “But there’s great confusion as I’ve named them all the same thing.” 

The stars were pleased with their new name, Dru giggled to herself. They were pleased to have the name of daddy’s star, knowing the greatness that’d come to them because of it. 

And then daddy was back, and Dru smiled happily once more. Let the fun begin.
~~~~~~~~~~
Not his slayer. 

If Spike so much as touched her, Angelus was going to kill him, kin or not. Buffy was his, she was his alone, and Spike couldn’t even look at her. 

“I've got to tell you, it made me sick to my stomach seeing you being the Slayer's lap dog.” 

Angelus growled at his grandchilde, ready to rend him limb from limb. To tear him apart for the blasphemy uttered by the insolent pup. Forcing himself to calm, Angelus smirked and changed tactics. It wasn’t that Spike had pointed out the truth about he (the soul) and the slayer, but that he so much as dared to utter his name.  

“I’m more interested in the slayer.” Where the hell did that come from? Flicking the cigarette away in disgust, Angelus scowled. Was it the taste of nicotine, or Buffy? Buffy. It was always her. 

And there was Spike, running his mouth again. Sure, his slayer was in the world, but that wasn’t what he meant. A quick glance at Drusilla had Angelus wondering just what his mad childe saw in him, but he dismissed that. His plans were his and no one else’s. Not even Drusilla could stand in his way, no matter how favored she was. 

(To kill this girl, you have to lover her.)  

But that wasn’t his plan, no matter the accuracy of his words. Not yet, at least, not unless she proved unworthy. But he didn’t think so. Now, all he had to do was prove that his lover was strong enough to last a thousand lifetimes with him.
~~~~~~~~~~
124 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go…  

Drusilla was quiet as Angelus raged across the factory. 

Several minions, not fast enough to move out of their new master’s way, met a quick and surprisingly painless death by beheading. Then again, was death ever really painless? Spike scowled off in the corner, angry over having missed the Judge’s big entrance, and even more so over the fact that Big Blue was now toast. Again. 

The fact that he hadn’t thought of the no living human food to hunt part of that equation until Angelus said something really pissed him off. 

“Poor Spike,” she whispered, running her hand over his shoulders. She placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head as they watched Angelus’ fine display of Irish and Demonic temper. 

He hated this town, Dru knew, her Spike hated losing to the slayer, and now, hated the fact that Angelus was taking over in a rather explicit way rather then the way Spike envisioned. That way was something that could never happen with her Angel, for daddy wasn’t one to share, and he had the power to back that up. Then again, her Spike never could relinquish his power; he enjoyed it too much and didn’t at all tolerate it when others invaded his territory.

Too bad for her pet that Angelus was stronger and older. The stars never stood in his way, they always bowed to him. Always. 

“And now,” she told Spike, who wasn’t really paying attention to her, “They shine just for him.” 

And he would now, Dru vowed as her gaze rose to the ceiling and laughed with the stars, oh, yes, she would see to it. She’d see that her Angel got everything he wanted, everyone he wanted. Even if she was the star bright slayer. Until then, until that happened, Drusilla planned on enjoying everything her sire offered. She knew her place and knew it well; but so long as she had Angelus in her life somehow, she was willing to compromise. 

Well, not compromise, but she wasn’t for Angelus, the slayer was. No, Dru was Angelus’. There was a difference, and one Drusilla learned early and learned well. Some lessons were never forgotten. Some things were meant to be, the slayer as Angelus’ was one of them. Drusilla planned to see that happen. 

Smiling as Angelus stalked over to her, Dru obediently went to him, accepting his caresses willingly, craving the touch of her sire as she’d been denied him for far too long. 

“My Angel,” Dru purred, closing her eyes to the brightness of the stars. “Do you hear them? Do you hear the stars? They’re singing just for you.” 

“Are they, Dru?” Angelus asked, not really interested. “What are they saying?” 

But she didn’t answer, merely giggled at her daddy. She knew what lay in his heart, and unbeating as it was, it wasn’t dead. The slayer held sway over him as no one had in his long, long life. Until he had his blonde, Dru would entertain his bed, and knew Angelus would be impossible to live with, but that things would never again be the same between them, when she was his obsession, brief though that was. 

While the stars might weep with romance at the love of a slayer and a vampire, even they could not deny the beautiful irony of such a relationship. Shame even her beautiful bright stars would bleed before this dance was over. They’d bleed for their mother, great drops of blood that lasted forever. They’d bleed with their mummy, silently shinning over her. 

But bleed they would, all of them.
~~~~~~~~~~
120 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go…  

Drusilla was in whatever passed for vampire nirvana.  

She had her daddy back, she had her Spike, and she had a glorious vision of the future. Yes, the star-bright slayer was involved, and yes, daddy wanted the slayer more than his Dru, but despite appearances to the contrary, Drusilla wanted only what was best for daddy. And since Angelus wanted the slayer, then the slayer he would have.  

At the moment, he was in a fine rage, destroying what remained of the dilapidated factory and beheading several mindless minions in the process. Dru stood off to the side, a happy smile on her face as she witnessed the destruction her Angel wrought. Being trapped under that stinky soul had done something to him, made him just a bit off, but Dru was confident that once he had what he wanted everything would be okay again.  

Since he wanted the slayer, Dru was going to help.  

A part of the conveyer belt sailed past Spike, who was smirking in a corner, and he growled in frustrated anger. Her poor baby regulated to a wheelchair because of the nasty slayer.  

‘No, no, Dru,’ she admonished herself, ‘No mean thoughts of the slayer, the stars wouldn’t like it. They want daddy to have all the blood, and he needs her to do that.’  

Daddy, meanwhile, was busy throwing various items about in a largely futile effort to rid himself of any and all thoughts of the slayer. It wasn’t working and no matter how he tried to delude himself, Angelus knew that. Drusilla did as well.  

(I didn’t mean to worry you.)  

(I was so worried.)  

(But you just left.) Better to leave first than to be left.  

(Let’s not make an issue out of it, okay?) Drop it, baby, just drop it. I’m not your pansy Angel; I’m not your whipping boy. I’m not going to wait around for you to think I’m not worthy. The test here is whether you’re worthy of me.  

(Don’t touch me.) (I should have known you wouldn’t be able to handle it.) Touch her, feel her, love her. She doesn’t want me, she’ll leave.  

(He’s not Angel anymore.) (Wrong, I am Angel.)  

(Still remembers who you are.) Who you are. Who am I? He was Angelus. He was the Scourge of Europe. And he was back.  

(Still remembers who you are.)  

(Things are about to get very interesting.) She still wanted him. She hadn’t left. She didn’t dismiss him, didn’t leave, wasn’t leaving.  

(So you didn’t kill her then.) How could he?  

(You can’t kill me, can you?) How could she?  

They were made for each other, Angelus thought as he calmed. And he would have her, he would, there was no doubt in his mind. He’d woo her, court her, and have her.  

Forever.

Prologue       Part 2

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