Buffy stood at the edge of the balcony and stared out over
the land.
Drusilla was somewhere behind her, doing only the crazy bat knew what. Angelus
was elsewhere (in the dungeon no doubt), and Buffy was positive she
didn’t want to know what he was doing (he wasn’t going to torture or kill
her friends, they had a deal, and if there was one thing Buffy knew, it was that
so long as she kept her end, he’d keep his).
As long as he wasn’t there, with her, Buffy could
breathe. She didn’t care that she wanted him (was humiliated over the
pleading words that fell from her lips when he wouldn’t satisfy her…it was
just sex, and yet she’d begged like it was her only source of water), that
he all but courted her over the last months (Red and white flowers, my love,
to show you and the world that we’re one), he’d destroyed the world (all for you baby),
and now she had to live with that.
At least her friends were alive, they were prisoners, but
they were alive. They didn’t have to fend for themselves in the outside world,
where everything was gone, and demons roamed where human cities once thrived.
Did they still thrive? What happened to the world? Truthfully, Buffy didn’t
know, isolated as she was here.
Were the humans fighting back? Did the Watcher’s Council
rally the troops? Was the new slayer leading the attack? Too many questions,
absolutely no answers and Buffy hated that.
And her friends, God her friends. Trapped below, living in
cages as prisoners. As dogs. They might hate her, she could see their loathing
and condemnation in their eyes, but Buffy could handle that. She could live with
that because she had been for months already. She knew they never understood
her, and really didn’t understand her relationship (I
love you so much, Angel, I miss you so much) with Angel. Never mind the
relationship she had (no relationship, there was nothing between them but his sick obsession.
And hers, with him) with Angelus.
Angelus, who controlled everything. Angelus who remade the
world and made sure all her friends were safe, just because that’s what
she’d want. Buffy was more than confused; and she hated that she couldn’t
think anything through, that she was so torn, so conflicted, so at odds with
herself that all she wanted to do was cry and mope and be depressed. But she’d
been that way for far too long already, hiding behind her shell more and more as
Angelus’ kills rose (there went her
junior class, most already dead, what happened to the rest when Acathla opened?
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you all., I wanted to, I tried to, I’m so sorry.
So sorry.)
And his affections became more obvious, even to her
oblivious friends. (Don’t look at my
baby, boy. Don’t think about her,
don’t touch her. She’s not yours and never will be.) Obvious to herself,
despite Giles, her beloved Watcher, never really telling her the truth of the
matter. (It’s survival of the fittest,
baby, and I’m much stronger than any of them will ever be. You are mine,
lover, and always will be. Nothing and no one can take you away from me. Look
what happens when they try.)
God, she was depressing herself. Considering her state
already, that was just…sad.
Buffy shook it off, trying not to think on it, trying to
categorize something, so she could at least sort it out and make sense of one
thing in her life. (Angel always made sense, ‘the one freaky thing in my
freaky world that makes sense’ and now Angelus wanted that role, he wanted to
be the only one she relied on and Buffy was so afraid to allow that.) He
seemed well on his way to accomplishing that, Buffy scowled at the windows.
He
was stronger than she, something she’d never have figured as the purpose of
the slayer (In every generation there is a
Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces
of darkness. She is the Slayer. The one girl in all the world born to do so)
was to be stronger than those she fought so she could win. That didn’t seem to
be the case any more and Buffy wondered why that was. What was in Acathla that
made Angelus so powerful?
Like that little stunt he pulled, prying into her mind,
spying on her from wherever he was in this little castle of theirs. How the hell
did he do that? That little incident was enough to scare her to her
bones; knowing Angelus was watching her from wherever he was, knowing that,
somehow, he could sense her, find her, watch her. It was scary, knowing he held
that kind of power when Buffy knew he hadn’t…before.
And how had she known he watched her? Buffy wasn’t sure,
it was just a sense, a tickling in the back of her mind that told her. It felt
like her ‘Angel sense’, the feeling she always got whenever Angel was near (whenever
Angelus followed her through the night, stalked her outside her room). He
was the only vampire she could ever sense and that carried over to Angelus. Now,
it seemed, it expanded, somehow. She wanted to ask someone about it, she wanted
to confide in Giles, ask, beg, her watcher to help her.
Giles was in the dungeon, caged like an animal, and
probably wouldn’t be receptive anyway. Though he said nothing, though he
outwardly didn’t blame her, Buffy knew he did. Knew he blamed her for
Jenny’s death, knew he blamed her for this, for failing to stop his kidnapping
and torture, for failing to kill Angelus, failing in her duty.
Staring out at the redness that covered the land, Buffy
forced herself to go forward; she needed to take that step, needed to see what
she’d caused, what she failed to stop. The balcony doors were open, allowing
the heat from outside to flow freely indoors. Buffy doubted there was
air-conditioning in Hell. Then again, there was plumbing, why not central air?
The smell of sulfur was notably absent, in its presence was something else,
something that spoke of hopelessness and dread and unholy glee.
She took another step forward. Then another, and another.
Gripping the balcony railing tightly, the slayer looked out
over the land. It was vast, uncluttered by houses, offices, or any buildings at
all. In the distance, she could see those things, but here, here in what
remained of Sunnydale, she could see nothing but emptiness; flat barren ground
that reflected the red light of the sun. No, not the sun, the sun was hidden,
Buffy noticed, as she looked skyward. The light was something else, what she
didn’t know, but it wasn’t sunlight.
Angelus would never create a world where he couldn’t go
out anytime he wanted.
There were tall walls surrounding the perimeter, and guards
manning those walls. Her senses going wild, Buffy couldn’t tell if they were
vampires or some other type of demon. The distance was too far for her to
properly make that out, though she didn’t realize that she shouldn’t even be
able to tell there were beings guarding the walls. Even with advanced slayer
sight, the distance was normally too far.
Looking to the right, Buffy saw more of the same. A large
castle like structure with windows every so often, but no other balconies; more
walls surrounding the place, and more of nothing outside the walls. The same was
true to the left, and when Buffy looked down, she realized she could jump and
make it. The idea held appeal, and a smile graced her face; eyeing the walls
again, she figured she could probably jump those, too. Looking behind her, the
slayer didn’t sense Drusilla anywhere, and looked down again.
She could do it, she could jump, Buffy knew she’d be able
to make it. She could jump, make it to the ground, and leave. She could escape;
it was a simple matter of scaling the walls and disappearing into the vastness
behind them. Her heart beat in anticipation, oh, yes, she could do it. She could
leave here; leave Angelus and his threats and promises, his body and his
obsessive (addictive) lust. She could
leave her friends, her mother, and find a way to fight what she caused.
There had to be others out there, Buffy reasoned, others
who knew what this all meant and who would help. Could help. She could find the
new slayer, another one had to be called now that Kendra was dead. And the
Watcher’s Council was still there, they had to be, Buffy thought as she
thought more of this. The council had to be, they had resources far beyond
anything she dreamt of; Giles always went on about it, about how they had rooms
and rooms and entire underground levels of stuff. Of reports, histories,
books and prophecies.
Gripping the railing more securely, Buffy dismissed her
dress, another long confection of silk and satin, and her impossibly high-heeled
shoes, and took a deep breath. Her body was poised for action, coiled to fly
over the railing and land on the ground. Slowly, slowly, she released that
breath, let go of the railing, and slipped to the floor of the balcony. She
couldn’t do it. She couldn’t abandon her friends, her mom, Giles.
She couldn’t leave Angelus because that meant signing
their death warrants.
Another tear slipped from her eye and Buffy absently wiped
it away. Damn him for doing this…and damn her for allowing it. Angel wasn’t
coming back, she knew that, and yet continued to do nothing about Angelus. And
now, now, it was too late.
A door behind her opened and Buffy wondered just how long
she sat there, staring out into her new world, berating herself and cursing
Angelus. Drusilla entered, Buffy realized without turning. Hey, point for her;
she could sense more vampires than Angel. Fat lot of good it did her.
“Sit up, dearie,” Dru said from the doorway, “Don’t want to mess your dress.”
Turning slowly, Buffy looked at the vampiress but made no
move to rise. “Who cares if I do?”
“Daddy will,” Dru assured her, and stepped onto the
balcony with Buffy, “And Miss Edith frets so when daddy is angry.”
“Who the hell is Miss Edith?” Buffy asked aloud, and
wondered, “And why am I having this conversation with you?”
“Tsk-tsk,” Dru scolded, and pulled Buffy upright, much
to the slayer’s disgust. “Miss Edith has been a good girl and is waiting on
you for tea.”
Was this Miss Edith some other vampire who was supposed to
help her dress and all that rot? Buffy could stake her just as she had that last
bitch. Of course, it didn’t matter, but that didn’t stop the adrenaline from
pumping through her. At least something made her less depressing. Following
Drusilla into the main room, and taking one of the side doors, Buffy entered her
sitting area, a large richly colored room filled with what had to be antiques.
Sitting at a dark wood round table with three fancy chairs,
sat…a doll. Buffy blinked and forgot that she hated Dru, forgot she hated her
life, forgot she hated just about everything, because Miss Edith was a…doll?
Buffy blinked again, wondering if she really had lost it. Yup, the doll was
still there.
“Miss Edith is a doll?” Buffy questioned then wondered
why she bothered.
“My Spike gave me Miss Edith,” Drusilla said with a
dreamy smile. “Miss Edith, she sees the stars with me.” Dru sighed then,
“I miss my Spike. He hasn’t been the same since daddy returned.” Shrugging
it off, she smiled again at Buffy. “Miss Edith says she’s very happy to meet
you, mummy, and wants to know if you’d like some tea.”
Dumbly, Buffy nodded. What else could she do? Glancing out
the windows of the sitting room, Buffy wondered what the crazy vampiress meant
by stars. There were no more stars; the stars were effectively obliterated by
the perpetual haze that hung in the sky. Sitting down, and absently sipping her
tea, Buffy suddenly snapped. What was she doing? Sitting here, drinking
tea with a mad woman who, not two days ago, wanted her dead.
She was sitting there, drinking tea with a mad woman who
wanted her dead and a doll. Who was the crazy one here? Gulping down the rest of
her tea, Buffy stood. She couldn’t kill Dru, there was something stopping her
from doing that; and Buffy didn’t think it had anything to do with her new
circumstances. It was loneliness, plain and simple. Dru was the only one talking
to her, Dru commiserated with her; she listened to her, held her as she
cried…as Angelus made her cry. Drusilla was not the one belittling her; she
wasn’t taunting her with passion and bribes, and threatening her friend’s
lives.
For now, Drusilla was the safest, at least to Buffy’s
lonely and befuddled mind. Not a friend, but someone who could understand the
current circumstances, the conditions Angelus placed on her, and the reason –
which Buffy was sure her friends could not – that she stayed with Angelus, and
willingly, at that.
Standing, Buffy left the table without a word, Dru stood as
well, running after her. “Where are you going, my bright little star?” She
asked, catching up to the slayer. “Miss Edith isn’t finished with her tea
yet.”
“I need to kill something,” Buffy stated, her pace not
abating. “I need to work off excess energy.” The arousal Angelus left her in
still hummed through her, and she desperately needed to work off that before she
did something stupid. Like beg him to finish what he so willingly and expertly
started. The soreness from their previous encounter did nothing to abate the
thrumming of her blood, the pulsing of her lower body, the ache Angelus created
that could only be soothed by him. Buffy was still new to the whole sexual
thing, but her body didn’t care.
It wanted Angelus (mate),
and that was that.
Incensed with her thoughts, angered over where they led
her, and the fact that she couldn’t stop them, Buffy snapped, “I can’t
stay here and sip tea with you and a doll, I have to do something.”
Grabbing her hand, Dru said with all seriousness, “You
can’t leave Miss Edith’s care, mummy. Daddy will be horribly angry, he
won’t like it at all, and you’ll be in terrible trouble.”
“I’m not leaving,” Buffy agreed, remembering all too
clearly her promise to Angelus and the reason for that promise. “But I can’t
stay here, either.” Taking the chance, looking at Drusilla and wondering at
how her life had changed so drastically in the last couple of days, Buffy
decided to trust the vampiress. She didn’t know why she was, why she was even
thinking it, but she had to do something, and since Dru seemed to be her
designated watchdog, then Dru was the one whose trust Buffy needed.
“Dru,” Buffy said slowly, “I need to kill something.
I’m the slayer, no matter what. I have to do it, it’s like…” she trailed
off, trying to describe feelings she often buried in her need to be what
everyone else (but not Angel/Angelus) wanted her to be.
“It’s like this imperative,” Buffy said, “If I
don’t do it, I’ll go crazy. I have to hunt and kill something,” and that
imperative was stronger now and that scared her. “And since I’m sure this
place is crawling with vamps, and I know Angelus couldn’t care about all of
them, then I’ll start there.”
“But…you can’t!” Dru was in a panic now; if Angelus
found out that Buffy was acting the slayer within his kingdom, there was no
telling what he’d do. Drusilla couldn’t allow that. But on the other hand,
Angelus made it very clear that whatever Buffy wanted, she got.
“Mummy,” the vampiress continued earnestly, clarity
taking over her mind at the thought of what would happen to the both of them if
Buffy left, if something happened to her, if the slayer did something Angelus
wouldn’t like. “If anything happens to you, My Angel will be furious.”
Buffy shrugged, trying to ignore the My Angel part. Angel
was hers, damn it! Not this vampiress’; then again, look what she did to her
Angel. Still, the slayer didn’t dispute Dru’s words. She deserved the ache
and pain that thinking of Angel brought.
“Nothing’s going to happen. I’ll just stake a few
vamps, nothing serious, and be back before he knows it.” Of course, with that
freaky astral-spying thing Angelus had going on, he might know, but that
couldn’t be helped. If she didn’t work off this excess energy, Buffy thought
as she started out of the room again, she’d go crazy.
“But mummy-”
Heaving a huge sigh, Buffy turned back to Dru. “Look, if
it’ll make you feel better, and you stop following me, you can round up some
useless vamps, put them in a large room. I’m sure there’s an unused one
somewhere in this place, and let me at them. It’ll be simple, contained, and
you can watch, if you’re into that.”
Buffy waited as Dru thought about that. It seemed to take
forever and the longer the vampiress thought, the antsier Buffy grew and the
more her mind wandered. She could still feel Angelus within her, moving in those
strong, even thrusts, his erection stretching her to the point where she thought
she’d explode, and she wanted to; God, she wanted to explode from the
feelings, from the pleasure. Her tongue peaked out and licked her lips, tasting
not the lipstick Dru smeared on her lips, but the remnants of his kiss; and
Buffy’s insides clenched.
Tightening her hands into fists, Buffy felt her nails dig
into her palms and knew she probably drew blood, but she didn’t care. She had
another taste of her lover, and whether it was Angel or Angelus, she still
wanted him. She loved Angel, loved him with everything in her; loved him to the
point where she was desperately afraid she had feelings for his demon as well.
And she wanted him, wanted Angel to the point where their one night was not
enough, was far from enough, and if she could have that again with Angelus,
then…
“Okay, my bright star,” Dru said finally with a gentle
pat on Buffy’s cheek. Despite that, Buffy had never been so happy to hear her
voice interrupting those thoughts.
Dru understood Buffy’s compulsion to kill; after all a
vampire could intimately identify with the hunger, the thirst, the predatory
nature of what the slayer is. And if Buffy wanted to use that to cull the heard
that now roamed freely over the planet, then Drusilla thought Angelus would be
happy with that. After all, he was the ultimate predator, and if his goddess was
that strong as well, then daddy would be very happy with his Dru. The vampiress
nodded and left, pausing at the door.
“I’ll come get you soon but,” Dru said with a secretive smile, reverting to that happy girl’s voice, “You have to promise me you’ll stay put with Miss Edith.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” Buffy laughed, but then
realized that no, she probably wasn’t. Being watched over by a doll, what was
her world coming to? “Fine, whatever,” Buffy grumbled, “Just…whatever,
go.”
Buffy shook her head as the door closed behind the
vampiress, and looked around for a makeshift stake. She’d lost hers
earlier…right about the time Buffy realized what happened to her friends, her
mom, Giles. The wooden chair leg was probably rolling, forgotten, in that
low-level hallway outside the steel door. She needed another one, then; Buffy
grimaced, and looked around the room.
The furniture was gorgeous, handcrafted dark wood, with
intricate designs that Buffy couldn’t quite make out. Walking towards the
armoire, Buffy looked closer at the designs, blushing when she realized they
depicted various sexual positions. The need that clenched her womb made Buffy
lose her breath as she thought of herself and Angelus in those positions.
Licking her lips, she decided against breaking that
particular piece of furniture.
Scanning the room again, hoping for inspiration, Buffy
noticed that many of the pieces in the room were wood. Obviously, Angelus
wasn’t worried much about her staking him. “Arrogant bastard,” Buffy
huffed, folding her bare arms over the silky dress. “Thinks I won’t stake
him if I have the chance?”
Actually, she wouldn’t. The lives of her friends were on
the line, and while Buffy wasn’t sure what, exactly, was going on out there in
the rest of the world, she knew enough to realize that without Angelus’
protection, they were all dead. She couldn’t take that chance, no matter what.
It was then she spotted a trunk in the far corner. Walking closer, her heels clicking on the stone floor, Buffy realized it was her trunk. Somehow, Angelus had managed to move the trunk from her room here without her even noticing it. When had he done that? Before or after the fall of Sunnydale? And what else of hers was here, what else that she hadn’t noticed because she was too caught up in Angelus and this new life of hers, and her depression and guilt?
Opening the trunk, Buffy noticed an array of weapons and
couldn’t help the slightly hysterical and no doubt desperate laugh that
escaped. Why would Angelus want her weapons here? It made no sense, especially
given what she knew about the controlling master vampire. Stuffed into a corner
sat Mr. Gordo and Buffy gingerly picked up her beloved pig, hugging him to her
chest tightly.
‘He
gave her her things from her other life? He actually let her keep that stuff?’
Nodding, he waited…he wasn’t disappointed.
‘Wow, that’s just…wow,’ he said impressed. ‘But I thought he hated her
previous life.’
‘He did,’ the storyteller nodded. ‘But he loved her.’
Memories of Angel washed through her, of Angel’s first
introduction to the stuffed animal, of the night after Kendra left, and he was
still recovering from the ritual Spike and Dru did to him. When she spent the
night tending his wounds, packing Mr. Gordo with her for the added childhood
comfort he provided.
Except, she hadn’t needed the pig’s vigilance because
with Angel, Buffy slept more peacefully than she had in her entire life. Curled
in his embrace, Angel’s strong arm around her waist, Buffy snuggled into her
would-be lover and dreamed only of him.
A teardrop fell onto Mr. Gordo’s fur, matting the area.
She missed Angel so much it was unbearable. Her heart was broken, shattered
beneath Angelus’ cruel words and his often-conflicting actions. Angel was
gone, and there was nothing, nothing,
Buffy could do to get him back. The spell Willow and Giles were going to try
resulted only in Giles’ kidnapping and torture at Angelus’ hands, Willow’s
hospital stay, and their eventual kidnapping.
(You know why I did
it, lover.)
“I miss you so much, Angel,” she said into the empty
room, carefully placing Mr. Gordo back into the trunk with one last longing
glance. But she couldn’t think on that now, it had done her no good to think
on how her life went drastically downhill in the past four months. Wishing for
her Angel back didn’t work, and Buffy was trapped in this new reality.
She had to live with her new life, now.
Picking up a stake, spinning it once, just to try it out,
to make sure she hadn’t forgotten any of her slayer instincts in the last
couple of days, Buffy went to put it in her waistband. She didn’t have one in
the dress and, with a disgusted sigh, tossed the stake on the bed, wandering to
the closet to find something better to wear.
“Can’t slay vamps in formal wear,” Buffy mumbled to
herself as she looked through the racks and racks and yet more racks of clothes.
In the very back of the room Angelus had designated a closet, hung her favorite
loose exercise pants and tank top. Perfect. Searching through the rotating racks
of shoes, there were enough to make even Cordelia jealous, Buffy found a pair of
sneakers, and went to change.
By the time she was changed – and actually found
underwear neatly folded in a bureau drawer – Dru was back. Standing from the
vanity where she was tying her shoes, Buffy felt the sinfully decadent feel of
her silk undergarments as they moved with her. Swallowing at the feel, Buffy
wondered where Angelus managed to find them, and in her size – something else
she didn’t want to think on today.
Victoria’s Secret didn’t have anything like this, Buffy
was certain. There were no tags on the material, but the feel was 100% silk,
Buffy would bet on that.
“Now remember,” Dru whispered as if Angelus was right
there and they were sharing secrets, “Stay close, don’t want you getting
lost.” She looked over Buffy’s attire with a frown, from what Buffy didn’t
know, but she didn’t care, either. “And no leaving.”
“Right, got that the first time,” Buffy scowled, and
followed Drusilla out of the room.
This time she paid attention to her surroundings,
committing to memory the way Dru lead. It was a blessing, Buffy decided, and she
wondered if this ability to plot your path through uncharted territory was
something slayer related. Whatever it was, it was damn handy. Several flights of
steps, half a dozen corridors, and two rooms later, Buffy was outside a large
wooden door. The slayer sense that was going wild before was now centered on the
beings behind the door.
Her slayer mode taking over, Buffy turned to smile at Dru;
and the vampiress didn’t wonder at the feral smile that graced the pretty
slayer’s face. Dru could see the slayer taking over, the primal being within
breaking free. Nodding to Drusilla to open the door, Buffy gripped her stake in
her right hand, and prepared to work off that excess energy Angelus was so kind
to leave humming through her body.
Stepping through, the slayer completely took over.
It was liberating, so very therapeutic to know she could
actually kill the vamps before her. And kill them she did. When the first
attacked, rushing towards her in a desperate attempt to get out the door, Buffy
stopped him with an arm to the throat. As that vampire fell to the floor,
clutching his throat as if it could actually kill him, another took a step
closer.
“Looks like that crazy bitch was right, boys,” he said,
as he smiled around his fangs. Walking closer, his grin widened. “We do get to
play with the slayer.”
Buffy laughed, and looked behind her to where Dru watched
with a giddy smile outside the door. Though she couldn’t hear her, Buffy could
tell Drusilla clapped her hands in glee. Turning back with a feral smile that
sent shivers down the backs of the other five vamps, Buffy agreed.
“Yup, playtime is about to begin.” Cocking her hip and
twirling her stake, Buffy laughed. Really, did they think they could take her,
did they think that she was actually afraid to die at their hands? “Ha, you
have no idea what my life is like, so bring it on, boys.”
“Begging for it, aren’t you, little slayer,” the
seemingly self-appointed leader said, as he steadily advanced on Buffy. He took
a deep breath and chuckled. “Oh, yeah,” he said to his cronies, “She wants
it.”
The vamp leapt forward and attacked, his smile not fading
as his punch made contact with Buffy’s chin, sending her flying backwards.
“Angelus will make me his right-hand,” he grinned as Buffy quickly pushed
herself up, using the wall to do so, “When he discovers I’ve killed the
slayer.”
Laughing, her first truly free laugh in…months, her eyes
swirling a strange combination of blue and silver, Buffy gripped her stake
tighter and let the arrogant vamp come to her. “You’d like to think that,
wouldn’t you,” she mocked as the vamp attacked again, his cronies still
staying back from their fight. Buffy shook her head at that. When would they
learn to gang up on her and attack? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“You think Angelus would allow someone else to kill the
slayer? You’ve got to be kidding
me.” A series of punches landed on Arrogant Vamp’s midsection as Buffy
backed him into a corner, a roundhouse kick sending him crashing into the wall.
“You can’t tell me you’re really that stupid, can you? You must not be
from around here.”
“Angelus wanted you dead, everyone knows that.” He spat
at her, spitting blood as he did so. That bitch would pay for this attack!
“You so sure about that?” Buffy asked as she sauntered
closer, a sway in her hips, the stake aimed at the vamp’s dead heart. “You
think that if he really wanted me dead he couldn’t or wouldn’t do that
himself? You think he needs someone like you to do it for him?”
Buffy laughed again at the look on the vamp’s face and
added, just as her stake punctured his heart. “You are so wrong, and so
stupid; he wants me.” The vampire exploded into dust, and Buffy added too
quietly for even the remaining vampires to hear, her voice colored with the
realization that, “And now, he’s got me.”
Turning, her smile never dissipating, though her heart
clenched in dread at her circumstances, Buffy offered, “Who’s next?”
Within minutes, the remaining vampires were dust, their
remains clinging to Buffy’s clothes and hair. Her heart was racing, and she
felt freer than she had in days. This was what she missed; this was what her
body craved. The freedom, the adrenaline, the high that came with killing what
she was born to kill, what she was meant to.
(Normal girl with her
normal boyfriend…then why did she enjoy this so much?)
Whirling as the door opened, Buffy laughed at Drusilla.
“Now that was fun,” she said as
she left the room. Her arousal still thrummed through her, but the release that
came with fighting something felt damned good, and she was still floating with
it. The two women walked through the labyrinth back to Buffy’s room, not
speaking, and Buffy was almost ashamed to admit that the silence that surrounded
them was…comfortable.
Dru opened the door to the room, allowing Buffy to precede
her; stepping into the master bedroom, Dru quickly excused herself. Angelus
stood in the middle of the room, arms folded, eyes that swirl of colors, fangs
extended, and a scowl on his beautiful face.
“Enjoying yourself, Buffy?” He asked as Dru shut the door. He’d deal with her later.
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