Buffy shook as Angelus held her against the wall just outside the prison. 

She’d been humming with arousal all day, all through her talk with Willow. Especially her talk with Willow. (Traitor, the best friend wanted her man…) 

Jealous lust had raged through her, knowing that her friend wanted Angelus, knowing that, today, Willow had finally realized it. Knowing that she, Buffy, was the only one who was ever going to have him again. Buffy felt the urge to take Angelus then and there, marking him as hers, proclaiming for all to see that only she could have him. Would have him. 

She hadn’t, however, tramping down on the growing need to show her friends that she had it all. Screw them, she had her lover, had his desire and need, and possibly, love. Had what she wanted. Everything she wanted, or…almost everything. 

Willow would never betray her like that, Buffy forced herself to realize, would never try to seduce Angelus (Angel) away from her. No matter what Willow did or did not feel, she’d never try to take Angelus away from Buffy. Not that she could, but that wasn’t the point. Not to Buffy’s lust and envy-filled mind, not to her raging need to claim Angelus as hers, not to Buffy as she resisted the overwhelming urge to fuck her vampire until all he knew was his slayer.  

Angelus had watched the entire time, and she knew he knew what Willow felt as well. And Buffy knew that if he could, he’d somehow find a way to use it against her. Just to prove a point, to make her jealous, to show her the rules, something that only his obsession-twisted mind could justify. Buffy wasn’t about to let him use that opportunity. 

She was tired of being the one played and manipulated. 

So she’d listened to Willow, drawing out her time with her friend as much as she could. Knowing he was there. So close, watching her every move, the way she laughed, the way her eyes strayed to his all too often. The slow wink she’d sent him, unable to stop herself, unable not to show Willow – everyone – what she wanted. The arousal she knew he could scent. Buffy had wanted to jump him the moment they left, but hadn’t.  

There were guards there, watching. There were her friends and family there, just on the other side of the heavy steel door. There was…and then Angelus’ mouth was on hers, and Buffy’s initial protest was swallowed by the delicious things his mouth was doing to her.  

“The guards,” she murmured, arms wrapping around his neck, already pulling him back to her, body straining closer to his hard, muscled one. Need burst through her, and Buffy wondered when she’d become so wanton. 

“Will never see you, my love,” Angelus had vowed, and lifted her to look behind him. Back against the wall, Buffy opened her eyes just enough to notice that the always-vigilant guards were no longer there. She wanted to ask how. She wanted to know what Angelus had done to get them to leave. 

She didn’t care, and kissed him again.  

His mouth was cool on hers, his hands burning through the thin material of her dress. Molding her breasts, tugging on her already hard and aching nipples. Her body shuddered at the feeling, legs tightening around his hips in an attempt to bring him closer to her. Buffy moaned his name, grinding her pelvis against his in a silent plea.  

Angelus held her tight, caught between his hard, aroused body, and the door behind her. Her hands moved down his chest, nails sinking into his muscles, drawing the faintest hint of blood. 

Angelus growled, his eyes locking with Buffy’s, swirling blue and red to pure silver. “Say it,” he growled, fangs that elongated without changing his handsome face gleamed in the perpetual red light of their world. “Say it, Buffy.” 

Buffy didn’t know what he meant, didn’t know what it was she was supposed to say. That she wanted him? That should be obvious. That she felt as if her body would melt into a pool of unfulfilled need if she didn’t feel him within her? Yes, oh, God, yes. 

“Angelus,” she whimpered, mouth seeking his. “I need you, please, I want you.” 

It wasn’t what he wanted.  

But for now, it was enough. For now.

His mouth was hard on hers, fangs nicking her tongue and lips. Buffy only pressed harder to him, seeking more, so close to demanding more. But she was young and inexperienced. But oh, she was needy, knowing what he could do to her, what he could make her feel. Angelus’ hands bunched her dress around her hips, exposing her to his hungry body.  

Need pounded through Buffy, hot and liquid, and she thought she’d explode from the force of it. Her hands clawed at him, shredded his shirt though she didn’t realize it; her nails raked long welts along his chest, marking him in the only way her too-human mind understood. 

(Take him, something within her screamed. Take him, he’s yours. You want him, he needs you. Take him. Mark him. Love him.) 

Growling as Buffy’s hands released his belt, Angelus let her take this lead. Let her show him what she wanted, how she wanted him. Small hot hands reached for his erection, stroking his hardness with an almost gentle quality that made Angelus jerk his hips forward. Was it any wonder he wanted this woman with such intense need? 

Buffy grinned, stomach clenching at his movement, a slow feline-like smile transforming her from young beginner to experienced lover. She was new to this game, and Angelus had yet to teach her all the rules. But Buffy wasn’t stupid; she knew, with an instinct born from the feminine core of her being, what they needed.  

“I want you inside me,” she whispered against his ear, hot breath coming in frantic puffs. Was she ever going to be able to fully breathe again? She felt his pants, smooth, soft leather, against her inner thighs and shivered at the added sensation. “I want you to take me against this wall, I want you to pound into me until I can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think. Make me scream your name, Angelus.” 

Angelus’ hands grabbed her wrists, holding them still at her sides. “You will,” he promised, dark desire coating his voice. Positioning her over his cock, Angelus stretched her arms high over her head, trapping her. He entered her in one swift, easy thrust, catching her shout of pleasure with his mouth. 

“Tell me what else you want, my love,” he demanded, still holding her wrists with one hand, the other holding her tight against him as the moved together. He wanted to chain her, keeping both his hands free to explore her lush body, but that was for another time. Today…now was for her, to indulge this blossoming flower. To encourage and to teach. 

“Open your eyes, Buffy,” he insisted, and only when she had, did he move again. “Tell me what you want, my love.” 

Buffy did as he wanted, opening pure silver eyes, bright with desire. Her body was clamped tight around Angelus, thighs tightening around him with every thrust into her. She needed more, needed him to press deeper and harder into her, needed…  

“I want you to fuck me,” she said, breathless, all thoughts of onlookers, friends, family gone from her mind. Only Angelus remained. “I want it harder, I want…” her breath caught as one of his infinitely talented fingers restlessly moved over her lower stomach, not close enough.  

“Yes,” she whispered, eyes closing once more. “Touch me, Angelus, please. Please. Please. Please.” 

Triumphant grin flashing over his features, Angelus moved his mouth to her neck, the delicious skin flushed with arousal, blood pumping through her body in time with his thrusts. The more she begged, the more he wanted her to beg, her voice catching with every move, body straining towards him and towards that completion she so wanted. And he wanted to give her. 

“Come for me, then, baby,” he said. “Scream my name,” and that solitary finger flicked over her clit, fangs sinking into her neck. 

Buffy screamed then, her climax ripping through her in waves of pounding pleasure that refused to end, and she didn’t want them to. Inner walls clenched around Angelus as razor-sharp fangs sipped from her neck, and he followed her over the edge of their passion, her name echoing around the empty corridor. 

When Buffy came to, her head was resting on Angelus’ shoulder, arms she didn’t remember him releasing, stroking his back. A low purring was coming from her lover, his tongue gentle on the marks he’d made on her neck. She sighed, so very happy to just stay in his arms, still joined in passion forever. 

“Mine,” she whispered against his neck, kissing a patch of cool skin. “You’re mine.” 

He said nothing to that, but the purring continued, and Angelus didn’t release her.  She wondered about that, but said nothing, any courage she’d had in initiating this, gone now that she was replete in his strong arms. Eventually, he drew back, and the purring did stop. He unwound her legs from his waist, and lowered her to the floor, kissing her as he did so. Steadying her for a moment as she swayed against him, he watched her through hooded eyes, judging her responses.  

“Did you enjoy your visit with Willow?” 

“Yes,” Buffy nodded, still dazed from the fantastic sex. She sent him a happy smile, sleepy and sated, and pressed her lips softly to his. Whether the kiss was in thanks for the long and uninterrupted visit, or an after-sex affection, Angelus didn’t know, but enjoyed it nonetheless. “Thank you.” 

Angelus smiled, and took her hand, leading Buffy away from the cell door. She didn’t look back, and he suppressed a delighted shout. And so quickly she was his, so quickly she dismissed her friends and went to him. 

“Come on,” he murmured, drawing her hand to his mouth for a soft kiss. “You need to change your dress. We’re meeting the Acathlan dignitaries for dinner soon.”
~~~~~~~~~~
He didn’t know when the first rumors reached him, but he knew they had to be true.  

Time really was meaningless to those who had all the time in the world, and yet now that the sun shone in only selected parts of the world – and that was just the greatest trick he’d seen in a good long while – it had even less meaning. So he’d traveled, crossing Europe slowly to take full advantage of perpetual darkness and those who still hadn’t truly realized just what it meant.  

He’d eaten well those days.  

Crossing the Atlantic was more difficult. Shipping lanes had stopped, crews too terrified to cross waters they knew better than their own wives. Superstitious talk of the end of the world...creatures rising up from the depths of the ocean, and God smiting them down... spread around the shipping industry. Not everyone believed, and yet enough did – or were religious enough to believe in the end of the world – to halt traffic. 

Penn sighed as he stepped off the frigate from Spain to Baltimore, happy to be on firm land again. And hungry, by the dark lord he was hungry. He couldn’t sate his appetites on the ship; the skeleton crew was barely enough to keep the large vessel moving without his interference. And while Penn never did have a sense of planning or timing, he also had no desire to either learn the finer points of navigating such a beast, or sinking to the bottom of the ocean. 

He still had far to travel, crossing the continent to where he’d heard Angelus set up his new regime. Eyes glowing eerily in the red night, Penn licked his fangs. If his Sire was there, setting himself up as the new ruler of this changed land, he wanted a part of it.  

Plus, he wanted to know what those rumors of the slayer had to do with his Sire. Those confused rather than intrigued him, and yet Penn figured they had to have some modicum of truth to them. What, he didn’t know, but more than one demon had linked Angelus’ name to the new slayer’s in a variety of ways.  

Whatever her name was.
~~~~~~~~~~
            ‘Word really does travel quickly, doesn’t it?’
            ‘Well,’ the storyteller shrugged, ‘What do you expect? The world had changed, red dawn blanketed most of the cities, and people thought Judgment Day had arrived. Even without  
            instant communication, people found a way to talk. They always have, and they always will.’
            ‘Had her name purposely been kept from the masses?’
            ‘No,’ he shrugged after a moment’s thought. ‘But then many of those in the know had a hard time believing that a vampire and a slayer should be together, let alone wanted to be
            together. And those that accepted, worshipped her more so than him. They adored her, and wanted to make sure everyone else did as well.’
~~~~~~~~~~
Cordelia spent considerable time attempting to clean herself up. When she was allowed to bathe, she did so as quickly as her guards demanded – they didn’t like it when one dallied, and used whips to quicken the pace. She had no desire to receive scars that could mar her chances of landing that prince guy. And yet she focused on grooming herself as much as possible.  

She’d begged a nail file from Buffy on one visit, and had reshaped her ragged nails, chipping the polish off the best she could. Her hair had seen better days – but she wasn’t thinking on that. No, instead she used the single comb they allowed her to straighten and manage her long locks, trying to work the frizz out of them. Ah, what she wouldn’t give for some gel. With no make-up, and no way to get a facial, she tried to keep her face as clear as possible. 

Next time she saw Buffy, she planned on asking for some clarifying lotion – how was one to maintain a flawless complexion without the proper tools? 

Her plan was to impress that prince guy so she could get out of the hellhole dungeon she was trapped in. So she’d have to sleep with a demon. There wasn’t anyone left whose opinion mattered enough to her that she cared what she did. Cordelia wasn’t staying in this cell for a minute longer than she had to. 

Except Prince Bret'lc hadn’t returned.  

No matter, she’d find another way out. Cordelia wasn’t giving up. If Buffy could have her demon king, with her pretty gowns and gorgeous jewels, then so could Cordelia Chase. That freak had nothing on Queen C, and Cordelia planned on showing her just that.
~~~~~~~~~~
Spike drowsed on the cot Angelus had provided all his guests. 

He wasn’t exactly tired, but boredom ate away at him, making him lethargic. He needed action, a good hunt, a chase, a decent shag. All he got was nasty looks from the losers he was forced to endure day in and day out, and a beating whenever Angelus remembered he was there. Unfortunately, those times weren’t as infrequent as Spike wished. 

So now, as he pondered the best way to relieve his tedium, Spike noticed the watcher looking…smug. He just barely resisted the urge to jerk upright, and instead watched Rupert from his less than comfortable position on the narrow cot. Used to a nice big bed with mounds of pillows and soft sheets, this was a real letdown. 

Watchers who thought were more dangerous than those fools who blindly followed council rhetoric. Actually, now that Spike thought on it, Rupert had had that cagey ‘thinking’ look on his face since the slayer’s visit the other day. When she gave him the reading material. 

Either Rupert had found something in one of those books – unlikely, Angelus wasn’t one to blindly give away information – or he thought he knew something the others didn’t. That stupid bint, Cordelia, the obvious exception; if she was grooming for Angelus, she had a long wait for him to notice her.  

What did the watcher know? Spike doubted he’d been privy to the shagging Angelus had given his slayer after the couple had left. The thick steel door was enough to keep the sights and sounds from the group inside, so Spike had missed out on that. But the arousal permeating the air between the two had been heavy enough to make the sensory deprived beg for a quick fuck. 

“Tsk, my Spike,” Drusilla’s voice drifted to him from the open door. “You shouldn’t bother with it.” 

Spike’s eyes darted to the vampiress in shock. How the hell did she always do that? Sneak up on him like that, and manage to do so just when he realized something about this pathetic lot he was stuck with.

“Drusilla,” he drawled out her name, standing in one fluid motion as he did so. Slowly making his way to the bars that separated him from his princess, Spike draped his arms through the bars as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “What brings you here, luv?” 

Dru pouted, floating to his side. “I missed you, pet,” she said petulantly. “It’s not the same playing with them.” 

Spike laughed, grabbing Dru closer and kissing her fiercely. “All Angelus has to do is let me out, baby, and we can play all you want.” 

“You wanted to hurt my bright star,” she reminded him with angry eyes and a fierce tone. “Daddy’s still mad about that.” 

Shaking his head, Spike released her. “Yeah,” he commented, stretching limbs stiff from days spent hanging from the ceiling. “I got that.” Then, changing the subject, “How’s the big to-do going up there?” 

“My star had charmed them all to the heavens she shines from,” Drusilla confided with a sidelong glance at Whistler. “She doesn’t yet realize it, but she’s the brightest among them.” 

“This lot will never realize that,” Spike snorted. “They’re all so mired in their own pathetic lives, they can’t see anything.” 

Dru giggled again. “They will,” she vowed. 

Of that, Spike had no doubt. “Come inside, my pretty,” he leered, causing Dru to laugh. “And tell me what the poof and your little star have been up to.” 

Once the guard had opened the cage door, his very large friend pointing a long pointy wooden pike at Spike’s chest, and Drusilla was semi-comfortably enclosed with her lover, Spike prepared to listen to the exploits of those on the outside. Made him antsy to rejoin the crowd, regain his place at Angelus’ side and in Drusilla’s bed. 

“Their first dinner,” Drusilla started as she sat next to Spike in a sad imitation of what they used to do during the long summer days in Europe, “With the Acathlan Emissaries showed everyone just how wonderful she is.” 

“Buffy?” Spike asked though he already knew. 

“Of course, my bright star,” Dru said with a dreamy expression on her face.  

Apparently, Buffy had shown everyone, including herself, just what she was made of. It was, Drusilla insisted, one of the many reasons Angelus wanted her. No matter what he threw at her, she took it, stood against it, and gave back as good as she got. The representatives from Acathla’s dimension, already in awe of her, literally bowed down to worship the very ground she walked on by the end of the dinner.

“Everyone’s in love with the slayer,” Spike grumbled, positive that his princess was as well. Which was more than a little freaky, but then since becoming a vampire over a hundred years ago, there were a lot of freaky things he’d seen. This just happened to be at the top. 

“Hush, pet,” Dru scolded, hissing at him before continuing. “Buffy’s special,” she insisted. “And the Acathlans saw that. They understand that, and they worship her, as this world will.” 

“Never,” Xander grumbled from his own cell. He listened to everything that went on in this room, his dungeon. There wasn’t anything else to do during the days, and Buffy, the savior, hadn’t bothered to bring him anything. To read, to watch, nothing. Hell, she’d even brought Cordelia preening tools when the brunette asked for them. 

That bitch, he thought, his anger at Buffy growing as he saw the evidence of her deceit everywhere. Spreading her legs for the monster who did this, who killed with joyful abandon, who tortured her watcher, who destroyed the world. My God, Xander thought, that monster had destroyed the world, and still Buffy couldn’t kill him. In fact, now that the deed was done, she was more than willing to play the whore for Angelus. 

Xander hadn’t missed the looks the couple exchanged two days ago during Buffy’s visit with Willow.  

Whore, he thought, folding his arms under his head. Nothing but a two-bit whore willing to spread her legs for anyone…or anything. Ungrateful bitch, he added to himself as Drusilla told Spike of the hierarchy of Acathla’s demons. There he was, willing to do anything for her, and she rejected him at every turn. His one failing, Xander realized now as Dru continued on with how Buffy had graciously accepted their offerings, was that he was human. 

Obviously, that wasn’t good enough for her. Bitch. Whore.  

The fact that he repeated himself went unnoticed by Xander, as did the fact that he had these same thought before, had had them since waking to find himself trapped in this cage with the rest of Buffy’s supposed friends. 

No, Xander Harris didn’t care. Not about his repetitiveness, not about his hatred towards the one woman in the entire universe who had a hope in hell (literally, their hell, this hell) of saving his hide.  

Spike, noting the disgruntled look on the boy’s face as Dru continued gushing about Buffy, laughed. Stupid child, what did he think was happening here? He didn’t, and that was just wonderful. Helped relieve the tedium Spike spent his days and nights fending off.

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