Lilah entered Lindsey’s room right on the man’s heels.  

“That snot nosed little bitch,” she seethed. “Who does she think she is? All our plans are not going to be thwarted at this late date by a little brat barely out of diapers.”  

Lindsey chuckled, enjoying both the blonde’s comebacks and Lilah’s fire. She really was beautiful. A cold bitch, but a beautiful one. “What’s wrong Lilah, Angelus not interested in your stale charms?” 

Lilah snarled at him, but remained standing where she was. Visibly calming herself, she thought back on the encounter. “At least one good thing came from this,” she observed, knowing that Lindsey was going to kick himself when he realized what she had. “I think it’s safe to say the Buffy in question the new god was pawing, is one and same Buffy Summers. Slayer.” 

He stared at her, and slowly nodded. Yes, that only made sense, didn’t it. “So that’s what’s become of the slayer,” he chuckled. “She’s the vampire’s plaything.” It seemed to him slightly more than that, but in Lilah’s present mood, he didn’t want to get her riled up again. Definitely later, once they’d figured out a few more things about their new situation, but not now. 

“The question now is,” she said, slyly, the glint in her eyes telling Lindsey that she wasn’t going to blithely accept Buffy’s place in Angelus’ life, especially when it was a position Lilah wanted. “How we can use this in our favor…?”
~~~~~~~~~~
“What’s going on up there?” 

Willow asked the question to anyone who bothered to listen. The noise from outside their one window was deafening, but she couldn’t really make out any specific words. Still, it sounded like a party was going on. One they weren’t invited to; not that she wanted to be, what with all those demons who probably wanted to eat her, but she did want to know what was happening out there. She was too curious a person not to want to know. 

“Celebrations,” Spike said, disinterested. He was very much interested in what was happening up there, but he wasn’t about to let anyone here know that. “Nothing that would interest you, Red, trust me.” 

Xander snorted at that, but remained quiet. “Celebrations,” Giles repeated, hoping to relieve his own boredom, and learn something of the outside world, too. He was a watcher, he enjoyed learning. Even from within a cell. “Celebrating what?” 

Bored and frustrated himself, and noticing Willow’s interest in everything, Spike shrugged. A little entertainment was just the thing he needed. “Went to a multi-demonic celebration once, not as big as this one, but it was a big to-do. A bunch of blue-skinned anorexic types who drank the blood of their minions; they were celebrating the ascension of their new leader. Don’t know the reason, still don’t much care.” 

What Spike had cared about then was partying with Dru. Those had been the days, just him and his Dark Princess traveling the world, doing as they pleased. How he missed that; it was all this bloody town’s bloody fault. Or maybe he should’ve done his research into Angelus better…  

“As the night went on, several minions were sacrificed to the dinner table. The rest of the crowd tore into them, feasting on their bones and blood.” The more violent, graphic, and bloody his story got, the paler Willow became. 

Oz growled at Spike, no doubt trying to get him to stop his story for Willow’s sake, but said nothing. The story turned him on, as much as that disgusted him. He hated that the mention of blood and gore, of eating in a wild abandoned display made him want to howl at the nonexistent moon and join in. He craved it, too, wanted to mate with the woman beside him in a sea of red. Broken bodies littering their path, losing himself in the hunt, in the fear and taste. In fucking Willow amidst all that. 

He said nothing, merely held Willow closer to him, but Spike shot him a speculative look. He knew what his story did to the wolf, and found it the most interesting thing here. No wonder Angelus wanted him on their side…and just what plan did the big poof with the unending supply of hair gel have for their resident werewolf? 

Cordelia interrupted Spike’s train of thought. “Oh please give us a break! As if we want to hear about losers worse than you.”  

For once, Willow looked at Cordelia with shaky gratitude. The redhead knew Cordelia said something because she was as disgusted as Willow was, but Willow just didn’t care. She was grateful. 

Sneering at Cordelia, he continued, “Angelus and the slayer,” Spike cocked his head, and listened. “Something about a new era. Not sure, the Farayll demon is a bit drunk, and slurring his words.” 

“You speak Farayll?” Giles strained to hear what Spike so obviously did. “Can you hear anything else?” he asked, hoping for a little on his slayer.  

Spike laughed at that. “Nothing that is going to help you lot. Believe it or not, you’re safer right where you are. Down here, nothing touches you that Angelus doesn’t want touching you. Out there, you’d already be dead.” 

Whistler, apparently lulled by Spike's cooperation and information, asked what Spike hadn’t bothered to answer when Giles had, “You can understand Farayll?” Nothing. “Or you can hear the Farayll from here? Anything specific about the slayer?”

Giving him a contemptuous look, Spike snarked, “You’ve made one leap frog too many, mate. Angelus hates you almost more than that little snot there,” he nodded in Xander’s direction as if anyone had any doubts. “Get used to your new home Liberace; you’re here to stay.” 

Settling back against the bars, and folding his hands behind his head Spike added, “I keep my nose clean, take my lumps, and my Princess will get me out of here. Which is something a hell of a lot easier to do if I’m in one piece. You bring a world of hurt I want no part of; you want information here it is. My advice to you is not to remind Angelus you’re here; it might save you for awhile.” 

“So she really is a part of this then,” Xander spat bitterly. He wasn’t surprised, but somehow thought that Buffy would bail them out. That she was only playing along until she could rescue them, and get away.  

He knew she loved Angel, hated it, but knew it. But this was his evil alter ego. The one who killed that guy in Xander’s room, the one who left messages dipped in blood, and bodies littering the town just for Buffy. It didn’t make any sense why she’d stay with him. 

Unless it was what she wanted. 

And it seemed that it was.  

“Buffy isn’t a part of this,” Willow insisted, feeling her temper ignite. She still felt a little out of control, whatever magicks the gypsy curse used were still in her, and Willow felt as if she could destroy the entire planet with her anger.  

Only Oz by her side stopped her; she loved him. Nothing could make her destroy him. So, for the time, Willow let him comfort her, let him settle and center her. It was enough. It had to be. 

“Buffy tried to protect us,” Willow continued. “She always saved us. Maybe…maybe this is her plan to save us now.” 

“Right, like evil Angel is going to let that happen. You saw her,” Xander shot at his best friend. “When she was in here before, she didn’t say anything.” 

“She was scared,” Whistler chimed in. It wasn’t his argument, but he needed the slayer on his side. To do that, he needed her friends. “I’m sure Angelus threatened her, and if she says anything wrong, someone dies.” 

Spike remained quiet, but agreed with the demon. It wasn’t like the slayer not to have a comeback, a comment, a quick-witted remark of some kind. When she visited a few days ago – hours, weeks? Who could tell in this place – she was abnormally silent and withdrawn. Angelus played the right card when he kidnapped her friends, that was for sure. 

“Threatened to take away her clothes?” Xander again, with the bitterness and hatred. 

“Threatened us, most likely,” Giles corrected in a tried voice, closing his eyes. 

“I try not to say anything positive about Fluffy,” Spike added, “But the Slayer is loyal.” 

Cordelia snorted at Spike’s statement. “Yeah right; like we’re going to take your word for anything.” 

Spike’s eyes went cold as he turned that gaze on Cordelia. “I’m evil, not stupid. Just because I’m not a boy scout, doesn’t mean I don’t recognize the trait in others.” 

“Witness my disbelief.” But her voice held a thread of fear and anger that only Spike caught. No one else bothered to look beneath the surface of Cordelia Chase, which was fine with her. But now, now that they were in serious and mortal danger, she wished, just this once, that someone would notice.  

Someone other than Spike, that was. 

Pissed at Cordelia sniping at him, and frustrated and angry at being caged with them instead of out there with Dru, Spike looked at Cordelia’s boyfriend; he was as good as anything to alleviate this boredom. Hurt Xander by Buffy taunting; hurt Cordelia with the knowledge she was the settle-for-girl. 

“And if what you believe, cheerleader, meant a damn to anyone, I might make more of an effort to care. But since the only reason you’re in the little Scooby club is because you’re shagging the ponce over there,” he jerked a dismissive thumb in Xander’s direction, “I don’t think this is a topic you’d know anything about.” 

“Leave her alone,” Xander hissed at the vampire in the best defense he could manage. 

Spike smirked again. Oh, but this was fun! “Right. That’ll work. Ahh, but you do know something about it, don’t you Harris? Loyalty, honor, truth? They may not know what you are…but I do.” 

Actually, all Spike knew was that the Harris boy was hiding something. He didn’t know what it was, not specifically, but knew it had something to do with the slayer and Angelus’ last fight. It was only when that part of the story was brought up that Xander’s scent changed, and he fidgeted, sweating and shivering with chills at the same time. 

Xander turned around, his back facing Spike in the only answer he could give and not give anything away. 

Willow looked at her life long friend, and wondered what Spike meant; and why Xander acted like he did have a secret. “Xander what does he mean?” 

“Xander,” Giles demanded, “Is there something we should know?” 

Silence. 

“You know,” Spike continued, as if no one else had spoken. He really wanted a cigarette, damn it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as pathetic as you about a girl that doesn’t even know you’re alive. Tell me; did you make a move on her and she slap you down? Is all this self-righteous indignation you're blowing sour grapes out your arse?” 

“Shut up,” Xander ground out.  

“Mmmm,” Spike grinned, “I do believe I win a prize! Oooo hooo hooo; she did, didn’t she?” He laughed then, truly amused – at something other than himself – for the first time in days. “Fluffy was hot for the soulful one so slapped you down hard.” 

“Oh, do be quiet Spike,” Giles admonished in a tired voice. Everyone knew Xander’s faults; it was just boring rehashing them. 

“Bugger off, watcher, I’m tired of this little ass taking shots at me. If he can dish it out, he can take it.” Spike leaned forward, staring intently at the boy. They had everyone’s attention now; the humans all trying to figure out what Spike knew about Xander, and Xander trying to play it off like it was Spike who was blowing it out his arse. Xander was a miserable failure at it, however, and it was clear that everyone believed the vampire. 

‘They don’t understand?’ he shook his head. ‘I don’t get it, they don’t understand?’
‘Nope, never did.’
‘But…shouldn’t they if they’re her friends?’
‘Yeah, but they didn’t.’ He held up a hand to ward off further comments. ‘This is merely the beginning of the story, if you want me to spoil the end, then that’s fine, but if you really want to know what happened, then sit still, shut up, and listen.’ 

“But then you don’t really take it do you, Shaggy? You run to mama, don’t you, boy? Oops that is, if she’s sober. Do you know your mama, boy, was so pathetically pleased you had a friend – any friend at all – she let a soulless monster just stroll through your house?” Spike dug deeper, bringing up everything Angelus had bragged about and, at the time, Spike hadn’t understood. “What were you doing in that room all that time laying pipe? Choking your chicken to Betty’s unmentionables? That what you did that pissed his Highness off so much?” 

No answer, but Spike didn’t expect one. It was more fun this way, anyway. He got to spout his dissention in the ranks, and Xander said nothing in his own defense. “You know, Angelus wanted you dead in the worse way; I would have bet my DeSoto that his temper was going to win that little tug of war, and you were going to wind up dead. Tell me; don’t you ever get tired of your women having to save you” 

Spike snapped his fingers as if he had a sudden revelation. “That’s right; you don’t have any birds do you?” Noticing his nails and that his polish was chipped, he snarled, “Bugger.” 

Looking up again, he shot Xander a sly look, and started chipping the rest of the black polish off that nail. “Half of ‘em don’t know you’re alive, and the other half wish you weren’t. Where do you get your tips on romance, Romeo? It’s just us here; Bunny will never know. Was that your plan, to take soulboy’s place? Step in was it, and offer her a shoulder to cry on? Cagey, I admit…very cagey. Stupid,” he laughed, “But cagey.” 

“God, you’re disgusting. Do you have a point, or are you just going to torture us with the sound of your whiney voice?” Cordelia snapped at him, looking at her own nails. “You’re giving me a migraine.” 

Shooting her a look of intense dislike, Spike ignored the chit, and continued as if she hadn’t opened her mouth. “Or did you actually have a plan?” 

“Why don’t you crawl back in your sewer an leave us alone...” Xander shot back at him with the best quip he could manage.  

Spike sniffed the air, and savored the scent of Xander’s rage, hatred, and fear; it went a long way to soothe his demon. Pounding him into unconscious and then draining him would’ve been better, but at the moment Spike took what he could. 

“Tell me, boy, did you actually think the Slayer was going to give up Nancy Boy for you? I mean, I admit, the soulful sap was pretty pathetic, but at least with Angelus inside, it kept him from sinking to your level. Come on; he has over two hundred years of experience with women!”  

And men, but to say that would’ve implicated Spike, and he wasn’t about to do that; there was that time, or two, with Angelus, Spike remembered fondly, but decided not to mention it to this group. These humans were homophobic in the extreme, and wouldn’t properly appreciate the many carnal acts vampires so enjoyed.  

“Did you really believe you could hope to compete? That you could replace the soul or the demon? There is a reason, lack-wit,” he shook his head, “That they coined the phrase ‘the one with the Angelic face.’ Anyone in this pathetic burg of a town knew after a day that the Slayer was gaga for the soulful one, as much as he was for her. Hell's bells, she even infected Angelus with that lovey-dovey tripe.” 

“Fuck you,” Xander snarled, and Spike just laughed at his pathetic attempt at a comeback.  

“No, I’ll pass mate, you don’t do anything for me.” He looked him over and shook his head derisively, “And I never have, nor will I ever be, that hard up to take you up on your offer.”  

Joyce shot Xander a sympathetic look. Now why couldn’t her daughter be with someone like him? Nice, normal, obviously didn’t like Angel, always there for Buffy, always helping her. “Spike,” she commanded in a motherly voice, “Stop picking on Xander.” 

“Isn’t that sweet, Harris,” Spike mocked, “Another one rides to your rescue. It must make you sick to know the slayer has to rescue your carcass again, but it’s going to be his arms she’s sleeping in. Come to think of it, knowing Angelus the way I do, I doubt he lets her sleep at all.” 

The image of Buffy, naked, willing, splayed open on the bed in a tangle of limbs and sex made Spike hard, but he forced those thoughts away. Thinking them wouldn’t help his cause one damn bit, and he’d be stuck down here for good if Angelus ever found out. “I can’t think of anything worse than knowing this time it’s Angelus keeping you alive, but it’s because he’s slayer whipped.” 

“Spike, stop taunting the boy,” Joyce repeated, with a compassionate look at Xander. He ignored her, silently fuming that he truly did need another Summers woman to bail him out. 

Turning around, Spike lay down on his cot, lacing his hands behind his head and began as if this were a conversation he had every day. “Angelus doesn’t give a shit whether you all live or die; not until it interferes with what he wants. So it’s the slayer keeping you lot alive, you ponce. It’s not like you’d be of any use to her if she did break you all out of here. The watcher there can’t remain conscious long enough to do any good; he’s taken so many lumps to the head, it’s a wonder he can string two words together. Red there, now Red shows some promise, but needs time and control. Until she learns that, she’s no match for the slayer, and no use to Angelus.” 

Spike didn’t bother to look at any one else, but knew all eyes were still on him. This was just downright fun. He’d much rather be out there, but if he couldn’t be – damn Angelus for that – then he’d take his jollies where he could. “Wolfie there…now wolfie is scared of what he is, and hasn’t even tried to master himself. Mummy and daddy, well, they’re clueless, and offer nothing more than useless entertainment.” 

Hank remained silent, entirely overwhelmed, but Joyce huffed in indignation. Buffy wouldn’t ever let anything happen to her, Joyce was sure. She was her mother!  

Spike turned his head, and shot a look at Cordelia, laughed then moved on. “Right. You,” he sneered at Whistler.  

“You remind me of nothing more than a pansy-assed bureaucrat; without someone else fighting your battles, you’re meat. Then we have you,” an absent nod in Xander’s general direction. “And what a prince you are. Why is she keeping you alive? You’re worse than useless; you’re human, you can’t fight, bring nothing useful into the situation to help her. And you thought you were a better deal than Nancy Boy? At least he could watch her back.” 

“Shut up!” Xander screamed. 

Spike surged to his feet in a flowing movement and pressed his face to the bars. “Listen, you snot nosed little shit. The world you knew is gone. No one here gives a damn about how bitter you are over your thwarted wet dreams for the slayer. You people are alive because Angelus wants you to leash his slayer. As long as he knows she gives a damn about you, you live. Beyond that…”  

Spike’s face shifted into his demon and snarled, “You are food. You’re not even prey, you’re that useless. This mansion is full of demons; outside these nice little walls, it’s crawling with demons none of us have ever seen. To them you’re food. To some you’re a toy; there are quite a few out there, Harris, that would love to put those holes of yours to use. Once they wear out one, they’ll move on to that big mouth of yours with a whole lotta enthusiasm, butt boy. By the time they lose interest in you, you’d be praying to be back in this mansion as Angelus’ punching bag. 

“You are out numbered and out gunned, and the Slayer is the only one among you that can fight. Eventually, you’d get yourselves killed and take her with you. And may whatever god you believe in, whatever god is left, help you if something happens to her, and the rest of you manage to survive. Believe me or not, I don’t care. I’m in this cage now because I underestimated him.” 

Spike bared his fangs and ached to taste one of them, just one. Just a little to assuage this hunger and rage, and to show them that the truth of their situation. “I wonder if I snap your neck,” he murmured seductively, his tone low and enthralling, “If I could win my Grandsire's favor again.” 

Xander, suddenly truly scared for his life despite the bars separating him from the vampire, and- ostensibly – keeping him safe, started to babble from his distant cage. “If you touch me, Buffy will kill you.” 

“Oh-ho, so now the bint suddenly gives a damn about whether you live or die.” Spike leaned closer, nostrils flaring, and sniffing the scents whirling around Xander. His eyes drifted closed as if he was in ecstasy, and he rubbed his belly in a sexual – and hungry – move, backing up as he did so. 

“You know, Harris,” he chuckled, “You really are the worst that humanity has to offer. I admire that; won’t stop me from eating you given half the chance, but I can admire that. But I have to say, you’d give some demons I know a run for their money. And all this is with your soul. Impressive.” 

Still his fangs lengthened even more at the thought, and his body clenched in hunger. “I bet the bloodier and more violent your death is, the more Angelus will love it. And I’m also betting that Angelus would protect me from the slayer. Who knows; as much snipping as you do at the slayer, Biffy just might thank me.” 

“Now, now,” Dru drifted in all grace and loveliness. She moved to Spike’s cage as if his were the only one there, and caressed his face through the bars. “All daddy’s guests must play nicely with one another. Spike,” she growled nipping at his lip, “You’re being a bad boy.” 

“Drusilla,” Giles said, repressing the instinctive fear he had in her presence. “What’s going on upstairs? How’s…. Buffy, how is she?” 

“My bright star shines brighter than the rest; she is so beautiful I can’t see anything else,” Dru murmured to Spike only, it seemed, but the rest heard her. “But she’s so conflicted, so sad, so beautiful in her misery and need.” 

“Dru,” Spike warned, “What are you thinking?” 

She ignored him, and, humming an old nursery rhyme, floated over to Whistler. “Naughty, naughty all those secrets. That’s what allowed Daddy to be free, you know,” she confided, and clasped the bars swaying. “Whispering and planning, manipulating from your little brain,” he hand drifted out to try and touch Whistler’s head, but he backed up against the far bars. “Buzzing like busy little bees, you are.” Then her gaze cleared, and she stared at the demon in the cage before her.  

“Don’t try it. Taking Mummy from Daddy’s protection will gain you nothing. The price you would pay is too high. Daddy’s anger will know no bounds; he will kill you. The slayer will learn of your betrayal to Angel, and never trust you again. And while she won’t kill you, you are a demon, and she is the Slayer. She’ll make you wish you were dead before her rage is controlled.” 

Giles turned his gaze to Whistler, and wondered just what the Destiny Demon was planning. And how it involved the death of his slayer, something he couldn’t allow. Was it his fault this happened? Should he have told Buffy about Angelus? Probably, but he couldn’t bear to do that; Angelus was a vicious demon with no thought as to what his ‘attentions’ would do to Buffy. His slayer needed something more than demons in her life, and he was sure that eventually Angelus would end up killing her. 

But now, now that things were different, and, quite literally, gone to hell, he had to wonder if he’d done the right thing. Had he only made things worse with his silence?  

A stream of unintelligible words echoed from the open door, and the prisoners turned to see who entered. “Bret’lc.” Dru scolded playfully, and drifted to where the tall muscular man stood. He was well over six feet tall, his long black hair hanging in a beautiful straight fall to his waist, neatly tied back with a strip of leather. His red eyes glowed, and he bowed slightly from his waist at Dru. She said a something in a soft voice and waited, laughing at his reply.  

Spike growled in jealously, and Bret’lc shot him an amused look and a mocking bow. Spike barked something at him that no one else could understand, and continued to glare when he received no reply. 

‘Bret’lc’ moved further into the room, drawn to Cordelia’s cell. He turned to Dru, and said something else, but Dru shook her head adamantly. “No, no, Bret’lc, you mustn’t,” she said, then repeated it in whatever language Bret’lc spoke. 

Spike snorted in laughter, but continued to glower at the newcomer. 

Bret’lc tried to touch Cordelia, but she pulled back, “Eww, what’s his trauma?” 

Whatever he said, only Drusilla and Spike understood. Dru smiled at the human woman, “Congratulations dearie, Prince Bret’lc is quite smitten with you; he wants you to join his harem.” She laughed that tinkling sound and said, “Won’t that be such fun?” 

Cordelia thought she was going to be sick.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy bowed for the forty-millionth time.  

She didn’t know what half of these people were saying, but she knew what the gist of it was. Health and wealth to their god and goddess. She was uncomfortable with that, on so many levels, standing there like she was something she wasn’t, next to Angelus as he accepted tributes from demons she’d never seen before. Pretending she was this new icon of their religion, this goddess they went on and on about. 

But she smiled. She nodded graciously, and she accepted the jewels they bestowed on her. The strange bone necklaces, the long elegant sword Buffy really wanted to try out; the whip Angelus seemed to really want to use, the golden box they lay at his feet that looked really familiar, and the spear thingy he still had in his grip. The gifts continued to pile around them until it looked like they were literally sitting atop a pile of riches.  

Which was about right. 

“My goddess,” the woman before her bowed, “I am Serra of Aurelius. Upon my Sire, Evangeline, upon her Sire Drusilla, upon her Sire, Angelus of Aurelius, my god, I pledge you my life, my protection, my blood.” 

Knowing what was expected of her and doing it were two different things. This was to be her new maid, Buffy knew. Angelus was very clear that this vampire he didn’t want dusted as she had the last one. Something about family. All Buffy had to do was accept Serra’s pledge, and it would be done. 

It grated to do anything Angelus wanted without a fight. 

Buffy looked at Serra, resisting the urge to glance at Angelus. His feelings on the matter were clear enough, and, once again, Buffy wondered how it was possible that she could feel what he was feeling. Was it the same with him? Could he feel what she felt? Buffy didn’t like that at all, but suppressed those thoughts quickly. If Angelus could feel her emotions, then it’d do her no good to give him ammunition against her. 

“Serra,” Buffy said, staring at the vampires with distant eyes that flashed green and silver, “I accept your pledge.” 

Serra bowed again, a pleased smiled – as odd as that seemed – on her face, and moved to the back of the room. 

The bowing and accepting went on for another hour, with Buffy trying to stay as much in the background as she could. Angelus wouldn’t allow it. Which wouldn’t normally be a problem, but the demons paying their tribute wouldn’t allow it, either. It seemed that they didn’t see her as the captured slayer, as Angelus’ prize, as the trophy woman on his arm.  

They actually considered her their goddess. 

Buffy was uncomfortable with that, with being this religious figure, with knowing they saw her as such. A small part of her, however, got a secret thrill from it. It excited her, knowing she held power over these demons, over this world. It excited her knowing that Angelus held her in such high esteem that he elevated her to his side. Not his slave, not his concubine, but his equal. 

Logically, Buffy knew that she’d never be such, he held the power over her in the guise of her family and friends. But it was enough that he saw her as such. Maybe, she thought on a whim, smiling at the next demons, maybe things could change between them; maybe she could show him that she was worthy… 

What was she thinking? Buffy froze as she accepted another necklace, this one with a large pendant on it. She was losing her mind; this place was getting to her somehow. Was she actually thinking that she could make Angelus see her as something to be…oh, god, loved? 

Accepting the tribute from the demon with a forced smile that even he noticed, Buffy saw the flash of hurt and fear on his face, and bowed slightly, saying aloud, “Thank you.”  

It appeased him, and the demon let out an audible sigh of relief, bowing away gratefully and with profuse praise to his goddess. Turning to smile at Angelus lest he realize something was wrong, Buffy forced her panic deep below. It wasn’t enough, and he did realize something was wrong, but from the narrowing of his eyes, didn’t know what.  

She could not, absolutely not start thinking that way. She was Angelus’ prisoner, his whore, his ‘whatever he wanted her to be’, wasn’t that one of his rules? But then…if he wanted her willing, and he wanted her by his side, then… 

Maybe. Then maybe he did feel more than just lust. Maybe it could be more. Maybe something could change. Maybe… 

Forcefully pushing those thoughts away, Buffy turned to the latest demon, finally, finally seeing the end of the line. She couldn’t give into Angelus, no matter what he made her feel. She couldn’t, because if she did, Buffy was sure she’d lose herself completely.

Previous Part   Next Part

World Enough and Time index        Christine's Page        Home