She woke slowly, still pleasantly cocooned in slumber and warmth. The gentle sensations against her skin were soothing and exciting at the same time. She sighed, a smile playing around her lips and woke further, wanting to experience those sensations fully, yet wanting the softness that sleep provided as well. Sensation won out; Buffy knew who it was causing such pleasantness, and wanted more.
Opening her eyes slowly, Buffy looked down her own body at her lover, watched as his brown eyes met hers, a mischievous glint in the beautiful depths. His lips traced the bone of her hip, over her flat stomach, across each rib. Buffy’s hands moved from where they were clutching at the bed, unconsciously in sleep, to hold Angelus closer as his delicious mouth moved along her body to her breasts.
Thoughts wanted to intrude on these pleasant sensations, but Buffy refused to allow them to. There’d be plenty of time for that later, and both she and her incessant thoughts knew that.
Angelus continued to wake his woman with soft kisses and gentle caresses. She deserved no less for finally, finally admitting what he’d known all along. She was his, she belonged, body and soul, to him and him alone. Buffy admitted it in words, but she did so in deed, too. And for that, this would be a slow, gentle loving, giving her body time to heal fully from the wildness of their previous night. This would be to show her that when she pleased him, as she did so pleasurably last night, he could be gracious and caring.
Just as when she displeased him, the consequences could be unimaginably terrible.
“Hmm,” she moaned as his tongue swirled along her collarbone and up along her neck. “Angelus,” she sighed, her body tingling with pleasure, the pain from before a memory – distant but pleasant all the same – and something that Buffy wasn’t opposed to trying again. Not if it brought her as much pleasure as it had, not if Angelus could make her feel that way. As if she’d explode with pleasure, as if she could literally die from it.
(She didn’t think about the whip or where it came from, she didn’t think about the meaning behind that whip, nor did she try. She was damned already, damned for failing in her duty, for letting Hell take over, for letting her lover rule as a god. God Almighty had turned his back on her; and Buffy knew that, accepted it. She deserved no less.)
When Angelus entered her this time, it was just as forceful as before, but Buffy swore a gentle (loving) edge was present. His thrusts were strong, even, not gentle, no, but that was just fine with Buffy. She enjoyed the softer edge of their (fucking)(sex)(love making) but this, this side that Angelus was opening up to her…this was wonderful, erotic, depraved, and she (don’t think about it, don’t be ashamed, he’ll know) loved it.
Her climax came suddenly, Angelus’ fangs sinking into her breast, two punctures bracketing her hardened nipple, his cock stretching her to the limits. Her arms wound about his shoulders and her legs his waist, and when Buffy came, she did so entirely, her whole body tightening around her lover’s.
Licking the drops of blood away form her breast, watching
as the wounds closed faster than before, faster than even he’d have thought,
Angelus found his own release in her warm body, her name tumbling off his
blood-coated lips.
~~~~~~~~~
“What are we doing today?” she asked in a lazy voice. If she had her way, Buffy
intended to sleep some more. Angelus wasn’t exactly conducive to a good night’s
sleep. For her, anyway.
“Whatever you want, my love,” he answered, his body ready for hers once again when she stretched languidly against him. “Everything is yours, my darling, anything and everything; there’s nothing you can’t do, Buffy.”
“No more meeting and greeting those horrid long lines of demons?” She really hated that; trying to be nice to things she’d have slayed days ago. “I hate standing there, letting everyone gawk and bow and all. It’s tiring.”
“We do have to greet the Acathlan Ambassadors again, but that’s not right away. The rest of the beings from Acathla’s – from my,” he corrected himself with a smug grin, “Dimension are arriving soon. As their new god and goddess, it’s our duty to grant them access here.”
He felt her stiffen against him at the mention of both what they were now and what he’d done to ensure that. Buffy said nothing, however, slowly relaxing once more against him, and that pleased Angelus greatly. She was learning, slowly, but he expected that. She wouldn’t be his slayer, his perfect match, if she capitulated immediately.
What fun would she be then?
“Why do they think that,” she whispered, still lying prone against him but already puling mentally away from him. “Why do they think that I’m their goddess?”
“You are,” he insisted, and hauled her up so their eyes met. Kissing her hard, Angelus meant to bring her back to his way of thinking. “You are their goddess, lover; you’re the proof that sunlight shines in this dismal dimension, that power has a beautiful name. To them, you are everything they expect: smart, strong, brave, powerful, beautiful. A slayer who embodies not the mythic ugliness that all tales of evil take on in the telling, but a gentle grace to worship and protect, to idolize and defend to their last breath.”
“All of them?” she wondered, still not
believing it. “All of them think like that?”
“Yes,” Angelus swore. “And if they don’t, I’ll kill them.”
Buffy looked at him in silence for a moment, touched by his impassioned words, believing him utterly. And then she realized that he wasn’t speaking of the thousands from yesterday. No, he was speaking of himself, he was voicing emotions and thoughts that he, himself, had; he wanted to protect her, he wanted to worship and defend her. He wanted her, and Buffy knew that. But even though he had her, he still wanted her. The chase was one thing, but now, with the keeping, his obsession had not lessened.
Her heart skipped several beats with that realization, and Buffy couldn’t help but kiss him when she realized that. Pulling back with a smile, hoping that this mood held out, she asked in a soft voice, hoping he’d agree. He said he would, and so far Angelus hadn’t gone back on his word. But Buffy knew how he felt about her family; she didn’t want him in a rage so soon after the Lindsey debacle. This kinder and gentler – this passionate and willing – Angelus was a refreshing change, and one Buffy wouldn’t mind keeping around.
“Angelus…I want to visit…I want to see everyone downstairs.” Downstairs made it seem as if they were safely enclosed in a lush hideaway, when the reality was that they were trapped – but still safe – in the dungeon.
Much to her surprise, Angelus nodded, his hand cupping her bottom, shifting her so she felt how ready for her he was. “You missed yesterday,” he said, accommodatingly, “So you’ll get four hours today. But not all at once,” he warned, and Buffy wasn’t surprised. “Dru will accompany you on your visit with the prisoners in the dungeon.”
He didn’t sugar coat the words, but that was okay with Buffy; she knew the truth of the matter, just preferred to live with her version instead. She also knew that he didn’t care and wouldn’t bother with even the concession of keeping them alive except for her. Which was also okay with Buffy. So long as they lived, she could continue to be whole; her friends, her mom, Giles, they held her together, they were the ones to support her when things got rough.
(Your bloodsucking boyfriend did this) (Angel did this to Ms. Calendar, he killed her, and you’re letting him live?) (He’s not the same demon, he’s worse and that’s saying something.) (Your boyfriend did all this? Have you tried not being the slayer?)
What surprised her was that he realized she hadn’t gone to see them yesterday and was letting her use that time today, too. She wasn’t going to ask for that, figuring he’d take back today if she did. She watched his passive face, the dark eyes, the knowing smile. He knew that was what she thought and waited for her to ask why.
Buffy opened her mouth to do just that but said instead, “Thank you,” and kissed him again.
He was surprised at the gesture but didn’t comment on it. Actually his plan was to accommodate Buffy in the matter of her family as much as he could, while simultaneously drawing her further away from those so-called friends. She’d think he was being nice – which in and of itself was probably suspicious – and never notice when he started cutting her time shorter and shorter. He was sure her loser friends would, but that was fine with him.
Let them understand where Buffy wanted to be, let them realize that it wasn’t with them she wanted to share her time, that it was Angelus – he who held them prisoner, who turned their precious world into Hell – that she wanted, that she left them for, that she cut her visits short for, that she shared a bed with, that she…loved.
No, he didn’t say a word about yesterday’s missed visit, or Buffy’s surprise kiss.
Instead, he deepened that kiss, holding her tightly to him,
drawing her very breath into him. Rolling them over, Angelus pinned Buffy
beneath him once more, his addiction for her nowhere near abated. It was a long
while before they moved from the bed, and even longer before they moved from the
shower.
~~~~~~~~~~
Drusilla wandered the hallways, looking at the strange portraits that hung along
the walls, those odd looking demons that stared back at her; she stared for long
moments at the guards lining the Royal Wing and smiled eerily at the few
passersbys that happened passed her.
She was freaking the castle staff out, but they were too scared of her and her position within to say anything. Even to each other.
Daddy and mummy had left the party early last night, and they hadn’t been seen at all this morning. Not that time really mattered anymore; night and day had little meaning when the world was clouded in a perpetual red haze, but the simple fact was that Drusilla missed them. She’d spent the night with Prince Bret’lc, getting reacquainted with the handsome demon, and while always amusing, and certainly a skilled lover, he wasn’t her Spike. But her Spike was off limits; if she dared disobey Angelus, Dru knew the punishment would be worse than even she could imagine.
Still, she wanted to see her Spike again, wanted to laugh at the little demon who wasn’t allowed to leave Daddy’s Party. Wanted to see her Bright Star and watch her with those who would worship her. Mostly, she just wanted the company.
Drusilla was a social creature, she didn’t do well alone. Oh, if need be she could survive, Angelus taught her well after all. But she didn’t like it; Angelus was always there for her for those fifty years they were together; oh, not all the time, he liked to go off by himself to hunt, get away from Darla, and generally make a name for himself. But Drusilla always knew that when she needed him, he’d be there. Then he wasn’t, those dirty gypsies did bad things to Her Angel, but Spike was there. Her dear Spike was always by her side.
Until he made a nasty pack with the mean (not mean) (Bright Star) (Daddy’s) (Mummy) Slayer.
But now…now Dru had daddy, Spike, and the Slayer. She had a family again, and she didn’t want to lose them.
The door to Angelus and Buffy’s room opened, and she turned expectantly. Angelus led an elegantly dressed Buffy out, her dark blue gown shimmering in the dimly lighted halls. Her ruby bracelet, necklace, and earrings were replaced with sapphires, and Dru wondered if Angelus had told her of her jewelry’s magickal properties yet. Buffy’s arm was wrapped with his in a very courtly manner, and Dru giggled, bowing as if she were being received at Court, and Victoria herself had just entered the room.
Ah, how she and her mum would make up stories about court life, about Queen Victoria, about what it’d be like to attend a ball at the palace. Now she was at the palace, now she was at court; she was the princess receiving the courtiers. Dru giggled again, enjoying the imagery and the reality.
Angelus, indulging his childe, bowed back, tugging a confused Buffy down with him into a sloppy curtsy. He’d have to work on that, along with many other educational items, the first being Acathla’s true history and the history of his now extinct dimension. But first, before Buffy visited her friends, he needed to check on his guests below.
“Dru dear,” he said, pulling a still smiling Drusilla up from her curtsy and kissing the back of her hand as he did so. “Please take Buffy to get some breakfast, then maybe a walk in the gardens.” He turned to Buffy, a glint in his eye she couldn’t quite place.
“Would you like that, my love?” He asked, accent deepening to the Irish of his youth, as he cupped her cheek. “I have some business to attend to, but I shan’t be long. I’ll join you in the gardens.”
“There are gardens here?” Buffy asked, wondering what they looked like, how they survived in the hellish atmosphere. Hell, (no pun intended) she wondered how she survived.
“Of course, there are,” he said as if it should be obvious that anything she wanted or he thought she’d want would be available. “Drusilla will show you, and I’ll be along soon. But,” he cautioned in a voice that sounded protective rather than lover-like, though there was a little of that possessiveness, too. That was always there, and Buffy doubted it was ever going away. She was fine with that, and she so hated herself for it. There were a lot of things, she discovered, that she could live with.
“I want you to eat something first, love. And I don’t want you wandering around without Drusilla.”
“Where are you going?” She wondered, eager to see her friends.
Angelus shook his head, his hand still caressing her cheek. “Don’t concern yourself, love, ‘tis noting. Now go eat something, Buffy.” Leaning down he kissed the base of her neck and whispered, “Must keep up your energy for later, mmm?”
Buffy blushed, and Angelus laughed, kissing her hard once more and leaving no doubt in Buffy’s mind as to his meaning. With one last lingering look at her, he entrusted her to Dru’s willing care. He wasn’t worried that Buffy would try and escape; there was no reason for her to, no need. Everything she had was here. Including her annoying friends and family. No, he wasn’t worried about that; he was worried every time she was out of his sight, however.
Angelus didn’t like it and intended to remedy that as soon as possible. The fact that she was out of his sight, that was. Before long, he intended to never have her away from his side.
Watching as they turned away, Angelus reminded, “I’ll join you shortly.”
Buffy nodded, wondering where he was going and what was so important that she couldn’t go with him. It wasn’t like he objected to her presence before. It did, however, bother her that he knew, arrogant bastard that he was, she wasn’t going to try and leave. Pain in her ass vampire; so long as he held even one of her family, Angelus knew that she was going nowhere that wasn’t in this palace.
Bastard.
Whistling, Angelus turned and headed to the dungeon, trusting Dru – and the six guards he had following them – to handle Buffy’s safety for the brief time he planned on them being apart. He wondered if that weird mental connection they had would work again; not that he knew how it worked the first time, but he liked that there was a connection between them that could traverse distances. And a mental one was unbreakable, or should be, given some training.
Buffy followed Drusilla through a labyrinth of hallways and rooms, corridors and spaces until they reached the kitchens. How Dru knew where to go when she didn’t, Buffy didn’t know. But it bothered her that the vampiress knew more than the supposed goddess; not that she wanted to be that goddess, but still. If she was truly Angelus' equal, then the least he could do was give her a map.
Not that she wanted to be Angelus’ equal (yes she did, oh, yes she did) but that wasn’t the point, either. She just wanted…she just wanted to be able to find her way through this damn maze alone. Without the six guards that were following her. Honestly, like she couldn’t take care of herself.
Eyes flashing silver, she didn’t notice they’d entered the kitchens. And that everyone was bowing at her, waiting for her permission to resume their tasks. Dru giggled softly at her side, and Buffy shot her an irritated look. The taller woman nodded to the patiently waiting staff, drawing Buffy’s gaze back to the bowing masses.
Panic seized her. Oh, God, what was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do in a situation like this? Damn Angelus, he was so damned intent on ‘teaching’ her the finer aspects of their sex life (and what a fine, fine job he was doing of it) that he didn’t bother to tell her what she was supposed to do now.
Buffy nodded, as regally as she could manage, never
realizing that she looked the part of the goddess. Her head was held high, her
back straight, eyes cool as they looked out at her people. She ignored the
nerves clenching in her stomach, and spoke in a quiet voice that rang out
in the silence of the kitchens.
“You may rise.” She hoped that was right, it was the only thing she could think of that Princess Di would say. Then she smiled at the beings before her and waited. Now what? They rose, quickly going back to their work but casting a surreptitious eye on her every now and then.
What had to be the Cook walked up to her, bowing again and saying, “I am Delia, my goddess, anything you require in the kitchens, it is my pleasure to attend to. My god and king, Angelus, has requested you eat within the kitchen this day, my goddess.” She paused when Buffy’s eyes flashed silver and went on, her respect for the young woman before her moving up a notch. There was a lot of speculation about her; about their new goddess, about the slayer, the human, who could capture the mighty Angelus’ attention.
“If it pleases you,” she gestured behind her. “Florence will attend you this day.”
“My goddess,” a young-looking maid walked up to her, stance subservient but somehow cocky at the same time. Buffy’s eyes narrowed at her, her immediate reaction to dust the vampire before her. She didn’t trust any of the beings in this room, with the strange exception of Drusilla (she wasn’t thinking about that); something about this Florence, however, really set her off. “I have your breakfast.”
She placed the tray on a long dark wood table in a far corner of the kitchen, standing next to it, head bowed, hands clasped behind her back. Florence was every bit the subservient minion, she made no aggressive move towards Buffy, no extra gesture or word. And still, every instinct Buffy possessed cried out for her to kill Florence.
With so many demons in the room, in the castle, her slayer sense was on overload; but there was an immediate danger present in the woman that had Buffy on edge. The guards at her back made her skin itch, but gave off no danger-vibes; the Cook, the other minions in the kitchen all made her feel watched, trapped, but not in the danger that Florence did.
Well, Angelus hadn’t said anything about dusting the help. Had he?
“Florence, is it?” Buffy asked slowly, lightly even, as she and Dru walked to the highly polished table, the silver setting gleaming in the bright overhead lights, a jewel encrusted goblet sparkled as well. “What’s for breakfast?”
“Tea, milady,” and had Drusilla growling. “My goddess,” Florence hastily corrected with a step away from Dru. “Fresh strawberries, blueberries, and Cook’s special scones.”
Buffy nodded, still standing before Florence, waiting for the obvious trap to spring. “Sounds delicious,” and Buffy was pleased to note her voice still held that coolness to it that she’d hoped for. “And this?” Without looking at the tray, Buffy pointed to another bowl filled with what looked like honeydew glazed with something.
“Sugar glazed honeydew, my goddess,” Florence smiled, and Buffy knew then where the trap was. It was the shift in Florence’s eyes, the predatory look they took on, the flash of gold there. It was in the way she unclasped her hands and let them dangle at her side, the way her back straightened and shifted; ready to strike, now, rather than serve.
This was her element, Buffy thought. This was what she did. She knew her enemy, hunted them, knew their tricks and knew when they wanted to strike. It was the reason she was still alive, the reason she lasted as a slayer until now. It was the means by which she was going to continue to live.
“And did you intend to poison me with them?”
Florence gasped, taking a step forward rather than backwards, face shifting into her vampiric features as she readied to strike out at Buffy. “Slayer,” she hissed to Buffy’s eye roll, not bothering to deny it, which Buffy found a little strange, but shrugged off. “You don’t deserve to live; you don’t deserve to rule by our Master’s side!”
“Whatever, Miss Can’t Even Come Up With A Decent Line” Buffy shot back, dropping into a fighting stance. “I am the goddess here, I do rule by Angelus’ side, and you are nothing more than an annoyance.”
Spinning around to grab the long wooden pike one of the guards held, Buffy continued the spin, making a full circle and impaling Florence, missing the heart by inches. Buffy really wanted to watch the vampiress turn to dust over her poisoned food, but there were other matters to consider. The guard went to grab his pike back, but one look from Buffy had him staying in his place, head bowed.
Florence snickered, as did one other; the pike-less guard immediately grabbed that vampire and twisted his head from his neck, the dust settling over the polished floor. Buffy smirked at the guard, nodding her thanks. Returning her attention to the vamp before her, Buffy smiled; her teeth bared, her eyes were silver, blue, and red, and the aura of power that radiated off her was intense.
She had missed on purpose, impaling Florence to keep her still so as to question the obviously not too bright minion. Florence was just now realizing that. The guards circled Buffy, not to protect Florence, but to protect their goddess from any further attack. Buffy glanced at them for a second; it was kind of nice to know that they’d protect her. Oh, orders from Angelus and all, but it was still nice to know there were some who would defend her from more harm. Not that she needed it. Obviously.
“Now then, Flo, dear. Wanna tell me why you decided poisoning me was the way to go?” Buffy’s tone was all slayer, and something else; something more powerful than even the slayer line. A shiver of fear moved over Florence, but she refused to back down.
“You do not deserve to live,” Florence said again with a glare at Buffy and a wary look at Drusilla. Dru was hissing at the other woman, her face had shifted into her vampire one and her claws were extended, ready for use. Anger radiated off her, and Buffy knew Dru really wanted to torture the vamp who tried to hurt her.
“Yeah, yeah, that wasn’t my question.” Buffy twisted the pike, eliciting a cry from Florence. “Now answer it,” she threatened, “Or I’ll let Drusilla ask you.”
“You’re the supposed goddess,” Florence spat, knowing her life was about to end and wishing that her Master could at least see the human bitch for what she was; useless, worthless, not at all what Angelus should have in a mate. “Shouldn’t you know?”
Buffy laughed, covering the fact that Florence did have a point and wondering how that whole goddess thing worked. She’d have to figure it out before her next confrontation with a rebelling minion – and Buffy knew there’d be more.
“It’s more fun this way, Flo. Really, you should know that.” Another twist of the pike had Florence hissing in renewed pain. The longer Buffy held her still, the faster Florence’s wound closed around the wooden stick; when Buffy moved it, it reopened the wound and hurt like hell.
“Now then, since I can do this all day and never tire, and still know who set you up to this, why don’t we start again, mmmm?” Buffy was bluffing, but she was good at it; months of hiding her true emotions from everyone around her helped, plus the fact that she really wanted to take her aggressions out on someone…Florence was perfect.
“Who decided it was a good idea to see if they could really
kill me?”
~~~~~~~~~~
“Spike, my boy,” Angelus greeted his childe, striding through the heavy steel
doors that opened with his mental command. “Been behaving yourself?”
“Angelus,” Spike nodded back, but didn’t rise. His eyes locked with the elder vampire’s and he frowned. The slayer’s scent was all over Angelus, and it wasn’t unwilling. It was very much participatory, and very much…loving? No, Spike’s sense of smell must be wrong. Then again, the bint did have a thing for the soul; maybe it just transferred to the demon before him?
“So,” he asked with a smug smile as they both ignored the rest of the people in the cells. “How was the party last night?”
Angelus’ smile was feral, “Too bad you missed it, Spike. It was a night to remember,” actually what Angelus remembered the most was Buffy and her responses to him. “And I know Drusilla enjoyed her evening with Bret’lc; but I’m sure you already knew that.”
The door to Spike’s cell opened, and Angelus walked in, hauling the weaker vampire up. Spike thought of putting up a fight but realized that’d be fruitless; what was the point when all it’d get him was a further pummeling and probably more starvation? However, it wasn’t in his nature to think logically, and when Angelus brought up Dru and Bret’lc, Spike lost it.
He got in the first punch, his fist landing alongside Angelus’ chin, a move that should have bruised the elder at least. Another and another but Angelus didn’t move, and he certainly didn’t bruise. The release of frustrated anger did make Spike feel a little better, though.
“Better, William?” Angelus asked, still holding the battered vampire before him, showing no signs of tiring. “You know none of this would’ve happened if you’d just followed me, childe.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Spike shrugged with a resigned sigh. “But you know I’ve never been that good at it.”
“Actually,” Angelus whispered, “There was a time when you would’ve done anything for me. Remember?” He leaned closer, still ignoring the interested looks of the humans in the cells, and the calculating look of Whistler. “Do you remember William?”
Spike closed his eyes, willing his body not to respond. It wasn’t working; he remembered. He remembered hunting with Angelus, how they’d spend hours together stalking their prey. How they’d talk while doing so, how Angelus introduced him to what it meant to truly be possessed; the elder vampire showed the fledgling both tenderness and ownership, and William loved it.
“That was a long time ago,” Spike spat, opening his eyes and looking into the powerful ones of what Angelus had become. “And we both know that.”
Angelus laughed then, setting Spike on his feet. He led the younger vampire into the back room, the next lesson already planned. “But you never did learn those lessons well, did you?”
Spike remained quiet as the enhanced chains wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles without Angelus touching them. The whip Angelus used earlier on Buffy appeared in his hand, when Spike swore it wasn’t there before; how the hell did he manage that? The first sting of the ancient leather struck out, catching the blonde on his exposed arms. At this rate, his clothing wasn’t going to last long at all.
“Bloody hell!” Spike screamed, the sting of the whip nothing compared to the burning sensation it caused along his arm. He’d been whipped before (Angelus was indeed a master at it, and young William loved the feel of his mentor teaching him the finer points of painful pleasure), but this was like nothing he’d ever experienced. “What the fuck was that?”
“The whip was a gift,” Angelus taunted, and let loose on Spike several more times, drawing lines of blood down his pale chest. “It’s the same whip that touched the skin of Jesus the Nazarene as he carried his cross to his own execution.”
Spike’s eye grew even larger, if that was possible, and when the next blow landed on his skin, he couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from his lips. Angelus was thrashing him with the same whip that touched the skin of Jesus, and not only was nothing happening to Angelus, but Spike thought his skin was going to burn off.
With a smile on his lips, Angelus continued to whip his childe, letting his anger at Spike’s actions let themselves be known by the tableau of marks on his pale skin.
World Enough and Time index Christine's Page Home
