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“What do you mean?” Giles asked, wishing he’d taken the time to have that cup of tea while reading the morning paper he’d tossed dismissively on his couch in his rush to get to the high school. He suddenly felt the need for the soothing quality of the beverage. 

“In my room!” The still hysterical boy shouted, wondering how he was able to sleep at all the previous night when all he saw was that dead man and all he heard was Angelus’ taunting laugh. 

“He was there, my mom invited him in and he left me…” short on breath, positive he was hyperventilating, Xander shouted, “Left a dead guy! On my bed! With no head! And no eyes! And no…no…” he couldn’t say the words, so gestured to his own private parts with a shudder. 

The three girls stared at Xander, and Willow and Cordelia tried to calm the still hysterical boy; Buffy looked to Giles. Giles began mumbling to himself, (what had they done, what had those gypsies done?) pinching his nose and removing his glasses to wipe them clean. 

“But why would Angel break into Xander’s house?” Willow asked as the boy in question collapsed into a chair, head in his hands still mumbling about death and no heads. She didn’t like to think of that double entendre. 

“And why,” Cordelia asked, “Didn’t he just kill Xander? Angel’s never liked him.” 

Buffy remained silent, as Xander shot his girlfriend a dirty look, already fearing the answer. It was because of her, it had to be. There was no other reason Angel had for doing such a thing to her friends, none. But what changed? She wore his jewelry, kept his flowers and notes, knew he watched her for just that. What changed? 

“Exactly,” Willow agreed to Buffy’s silent thought, “What’s changed?” 

Rupert Giles was not a coward. But at that moment, with the three children looking at him as if he all the answers and his slayer staring at the floor as if she feared those very answers, he wanted to run. He knew the reason Angelus stepped up his torment of Buffy, or at least suspected it. Symbolism abounded in the scenario Xander explained, and Giles knew it had something to do with what the boy had done. 

Cordelia was right, if Angel hated Xander, Angelus would even more so. So what happened between two days ago and last night that set Angelus off? Had he just finally found someone to leave in Xander’s room? If so, then that still didn’t make sense, Angelus wouldn’t wait for anything, unless he had a damn good reason. So it had to be something Xander did, something he triggered in Angelus to finally make the crazed vampire snap. 

And, Giles already knew, it had to do with Buffy. Nothing Angelus did wasn’t about her. 

Clearing his throat, Giles asked, “Did, ah, did something change, Buffy?” At her blank look, he redirected, “Last night, what did you do? As closely as you remember, please.” 

Buffy looked back down at the floor as she absently played with the bracelet no one commented on, and said, “No big; went to the Bronze and hung out, stopped for a mocha then did a little patrolling, it was pretty quiet,” she added, meaning that she hadn’t seen Angelus, “And then home.” 

She looked up at the end of her list and Giles realized that he needed to spell it out for her. She wasn’t being deliberately obtuse, but she obviously didn’t realize the implications of Angelus’ gifts. That was his doing, Giles admitted, he wanted to protect her, he tried, albeit briefly and in an admittedly fumbling way, to explain it to her around St. Valentine’s Day, but she skirted some things, things Giles felt were important. 

He wondered why now, had she already experienced those things from Angelus? If so would she tell him, or keep it a secret? As her watcher, he should know, as her friend, he needed to know. His sweet slayer was no longer the perky innocent he’d first met, and Giles wasn’t sure who to blame for that more…Buffy for loving Angel or Angel for loving Buffy so much that he lost his soul with her and stained his demon with those all-too human feelings. 

Giles looked at his slayer, his heart breaking for her, as he watched her play with something on her wrist. Briefly wondering what it was, he asked, “Buffy, there’s a reason for everything Angelus does where you’re concerned. Did something else happen? Was there something more? Did you see him? Did he try and…stop you?” He stopped at her frozen look and waited for her to answer. 

She didn’t, couldn’t, say anything, her brain as shocked as her expression implied. No, no he, he didn’t…he couldn’t…what was the point? She’d looked for him the entire night, knew she felt him there at the Bronze. And yet last night was no different than a dozen others… 

Buffy didn’t answer, so Willow, as gently as the redhead could, said it for her. “You danced one dance before you left, Buffy. Remember?” 

Stricken, Buffy looked at Xander, knowing exactly, precisely, why Angelus not only was in her room last night, but why he left Xander that poor dead man in his. Angelus was angry with her over something, but until a few moments ago, Buffy didn’t really know what. Now she did, now she knew, and she wouldn’t let it happen again, to anyone. Oh, God, how could she be so stupid? 

She knew he was a jealous man, despite the horrible things he said to her about her love for Angel, Angelus wanted all her attention focused on him. The roses, the notes (wear it, lover, or I’ll know), the little things he’d say (soon my love)

Buffy knew he resented her spending time with her friends, her mother, anyone not him. Buffy knew that, knew that Angelus stalked her, hunting her until all she thought about was him, knowing that the moment she didn’t think only of the (beautiful) demon, something bad would happen. 

And it did, she took one night off, let the three friends before her talk her into relaxing for just a couple of hours, and look what happened. What she’d let happen. 

Stricken with remorse and guilt, Buffy fell silent. This was all her fault, all of it. Because of Angel’s obsession with her (mine, you’re mine, Buff), he killed indiscriminately; or maybe not so. The three boys from school, Brad, John, and Glenn, their deaths might not be on her hands, but Angel killed them either for her or to get back at her, so their deaths were as much because of her as they were him. Buffy knew why. 

Because he wanted her in some twisted way (the red roses symbolize passion and love, my dear), but why them? Why those three? She’d never talked to them before; she rarely talked to anyone in school outside her few friends, ever, at all! 

Giles looked at his slayer as the frozen mask once more descended on her features, blocking out all her thoughts and feelings, and turned to Xander. He disliked the boy, knew him to be a typically self-centered arrogant young man with no thoughts or feelings towards Buffy, or what she was going through, outside his narrow view of what he wanted. 

Still, Giles had never noticed anything but friendship on Buffy’s part, and as for Xander; regardless of the role he may want her to play in his life, Buffy’s affections for Angel had remained unwavering. She would only ever accept Xander as a trusted friend. Now, apparently those desires had come into a direct conflict with Angelus’ wants and desires. 

God help them, still as tiresome as Xander’s behavior was and could be Giles did not, however, want him dead. There was enough death for all of them, more would solve nothing. But if Willow’s vague answer and Buffy’s guilty glance at Xander meant what Giles thought it did, then…  

“Xander, you need to be especially careful now. Angel feels you have trespassed where you should not have, and with Angel escalating his....” Giles struggled for a moment on the proper word. Courtship? Attentions?  He knew Buffy still had feelings for the vampire, even without his soul and didn’t want Buffy to think that the vampire felt anything but hatred and vengeance for her, punishing her for what she and Angel had. 

It’d make killing the vampire easier for his slayer, so Giles settled on, “Attacks and tormenting of Buffy, everyone needs to be extremely careful.” 

“Hello?” Cordelia said with exasperation, “Angel has known about the extreme looserness of Xander for a year, why is it now causing problems?” 

“Because, ah,” Giles cleared his throat again. “Because he feels Xander is somehow, ah, interfering with his, um…courtship of Buffy.” Hating the use of that word, and turning into Watcher Lecture Mode in hopes of stemming any implications that word implied, Giles went on, “Because vampires have superior senses and can smell the emotions on a person, for example fear…joy…and lust. Angel obviously felt that Xander was hindering his, ah, attentions to Buffy.” 

“Oh yeah,” Xander said bitterly, not noticing everyone’s eyes on him as his head was once again cushioned in his hands, “It’s definitely about Buffy, Angel’s little note made that clear.” 

“Note?” Giles demanded, “What note?” 

Wordlessly, Xander dug out the crumpled note, and handed the piece of parchment over to the watcher. Giles paled as he read the short missive before handing it to Willow, who stood at his elbow. “Don’t look at my baby, boy.” Willow read aloud. “Don’t think about her, don’t touch her. She’s not yours and never will be.” 

If possible, Giles paled even more, and the message made perfect sense. Buffy looked ready to faint as she listened to Willow voice the words on the parchment. To her, however, they were in Angel’s voice, his deep tones, that caressing quality that went right through her. She could imagine his voice, soft and seductive as his cool hands caressed her skin…shaking the thoughts and arousal off, Buffy fought the urge to sit down as the full implication settled on her shoulders. 

What had she done? 

“You said the eyes were missing from the head, Xander?” The boy nodded and the watcher whispered, “Angel took the man’s eyes out because he felt you were looking at Buffy...apparently in a manner somewhat inappropriate. He, ah, castrated him because he, um…well, frankly without asking Angel himself one must speculate that with the acuteness of vampire senses he detected something romantic in, er...nature about your responses to dancing with Buffy and believed that you were pushing yourself at Buffy when he feels he’s clearly staked his own claim.”   

Setting the book he forgot he was holding down on the table, Giles paused, taking his glasses off and massaging the bridge of his nose before lifting his gaze to eye Xander with a keen searching glance. Maybe telling Buffy that Angelus was courting her was the way to go, but Giles had serious reservations about that. She couldn’t kill him now, when she considered Angel a threat. If she knew he still cared for her, still loved her, then what?

“Considering the severity of his reaction,” Giles told the group, his mind a whirl with this new information, and his heart aching for his slayer, “With this unfortunate stranger I think it’s safe to say we can count ourselves fortunate he didn’t get his hands on you instead.” 

“I told you,” Cordelia sneered in her perfectly manicured way, flinging her hair over her shoulder as Xander looked at her. “One day all those little digs you flung at Angel were going to get you a guest spot on some vampire’s take out order but honestly, I thought Angel would just leave your pathetic self to be eaten. That wasn’t enough for you. Oh, no. You just had broadcast your severe case of taste deprivation by having smelly wet dreams about his precious little Buffy. Hello, evil Angel here, Xander! He makes the old Angel look like that shrively old Indian guy, Gumby.” 

Giles looked blankly at the brunette, silently agreeing with what he understood of her tirade. But…Gumby? 

“I think she means Gandhi,” Willow said with a sigh, also agreeing with Cordelia though she’d never say that aloud. Xander put so much time and effort into people he could never have when all she ever wanted was him. Buffy made it perfectly clear she wasn’t interested in him, yet he persisted. Cordelia, there was another one, Queen C of Sunnydale High and yet he couldn’t even bother to look at her, Willow, his friend forever, the one girl who truly did want him, or had wanted him for years. 

At least until Oz came into her world. Xander couldn’t be bothered to see beyond his buddy. Now she had Oz, Willow reminded herself with a small grin. And Oz truly liked her for who she was, nervous rambling and all.  

“Ah yes,” Giles said with a nod, “Yes of course.” 

“Excuse me!” Cordelia huffed, “Whatever…I was talking here.” She glared at Xander. “If your mental ineptness gets me killed by Psychos R Us because I deign to let your loser self near me I’m so going to make you very, very sorry.” 

Cordelia rose in a huff and stormed out of the library, never looking back. Willow just looked at Xander sadly, wondering why he could never return her feelings with half the intensity he wanted Buffy and reminding herself – again – that she had Oz. Buffy, for her part, felt yet more guilt land on her shoulders. She never cared for Xander in any way other than as a friend, had told him so last year, and yet his persistence in continuing to want her…. Angel must have known, of course he did, he did before he…changed. 

“Buffy,” Giles said abruptly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that descended on everyone left in the room. “I need a word with you if you don’t mind.” 

Buffy just nodded and followed her watcher into his office, waiting while he closed the door and started the small electric kettle to heat. Refusing to break down and cry, Buffy patiently  waited while the kettle boiled and Giles made two cups of tea, Earl Grey for himself, and Raspberry Zinger for her. As she stirred in a teaspoon of sugar, Buffy finally met Giles’ eyes. 

“This isn’t your fault, you know,” the kind words did more to breech Buffy’s defenses than anything that was said in the library moments ago. 

“Yes it is.” Guilt, blame, remorse lay heavily on her shoulders, and there was nothing Buffy could do to change that. It was her fault Angel was evil, and it was her fault that Angelus was killing people, terrorizing her friends, and somehow still courting her. She’d known those were his intentions long before Giles said so today. 

“No, Buffy,” Giles said firmly and started to reach for her hand but pulled away, settling for patting the hand instead. “It isn’t. Some demons are, well, they’re very territorial, very, um, primal in their…affections. You couldn’t have known that such an innocent act of love would spark Angelus’ possessiveness. Nor could we have ever guessed the intensity of Angelus’ reaction to you.”   

“Was he,” Buffy closed her eyes, bringing the steaming cup up to her lips and taking a sip. Angel was always jealous of any other boy she ever talked to, what had made her so naïve to think that Angelus, the demonic alter ego of the man she loved, would be any different? Angel’s jealously warmed her…Angelus’ scared her. 

Except for some small part of her, an ancient womanly part, that rejoiced in her choice. The strongest, the Alpha Male. She’d chosen well, and yet Buffy never thought of that, refused to acknowledge that little voice that was pleased to have the biggest, baddest man on the block. It made her ill to think that. 

“Tell me the truth, Giles,” she begged, “Was Angel like this with anyone…else?” 

“No,” Giles whispered, his heart breaking at the look on Buffy’s face. Guilt, shame, anger, and so many more emotions were displayed there for the briefest of moments before she closed herself off once more. “He’s had obsessions, as I told you, but…he, ah. They eventually wore thin, he’d either tire of the chase, or…” Giles trailed off, thinking of Drusilla and how Angelus had turned the woman.

“No,” he shook his head in resignation, “Never to this extreme. His current actions are beyond prediction in this, and quite…unprecedented. ” 

Caught between guilty joy at the thought that he wanted her still, despite his words to the contrary and crushing guilt that he was doing all this, killing all these people, because of some crazy courtship thing – this stranger to warn off Xander, the three boys from school, Theresa – Buffy fell silent. She didn’t know what to say anyway, how to tell Giles, or what to tell him for that matter. 

Gathering himself, Giles finished, “But I do need you focused, I fear that Angel’s, ah, attentions are escalating further than even we realize and he’s building up to something. Go home, Buffy, I’ll try to find a way to bar Angel from your house.” And all the love and affection he had for his slayer was evident in his voice. “Go home and sleep, rest for the day.” 

Without a word, Buffy nodded and stood, leaving the library without looking at Xander and Willow, who still sat at the table where she left them.

No one noticed the shadow in the stacks, noticed the smile on the face of Angelus’ crazed childe. 

“Soon,” Drusilla whispered with a smile and left the way she came, through the sewer entrance located in the back of the rarely used library stacks, “Soon daddy will have everything he wants.” 

She’d see to that, Drusilla thought the next night as she had fun with the old shopkeeper. So full of information he was, so nice to tell Dru what he knew. She’d see that daddy got who he wanted because Dru knew of the whispering winds and the secrets they told. 

Power was coming, and Drusilla was a part of that.
~~~~~~~~~~
79 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go… 

She never told her watcher of the presents he left, Angelus knew. Never even told Willow and her mother was entirely too oblivious to notice anything about her teenage daughter unless it was shoved right in her face. The roses were never discussed during their little fights, the jewelry never talked about. He never brought up the gifts because her friends were there and she didn’t for the same and yet different reasons.  

Angelus didn’t want them guarding her day and night, didn’t want them hovering over her to the point of death – theirs. They did, after all, have other uses – collateral. Buffy didn’t want them finding out that she kept the gifts; that she enjoyed them, got a secret thrill from them. Wanted them. Didn’t want them finding out that there was another reason she didn’t toss the roses or that she didn’t pawn the jewelry. Or, more satisfying, toss the necklace in his face, dangle the bracelet from her fingers over a particularly deep mud puddle. 

She wanted them because, while they were from the soulless demon, she still thought of him as Angel. Still wanted him and loved him. She tried, yes she did, to separate the two, but couldn’t. She meant it when she told Angel, once upon an ice-skating rink, that she never noticed his demon. She didn’t, because Angel was simply Angel, and she loved him. All of him.  

When Buffy vowed that, the slayer didn’t realize those words would come back to haunt her. 

Then again, who knew the Gypsy curse would have such a fatal – and altogether stupid – loophole. Ah, the foolhardiness that vengeance wreaked when wielded by those who thought with their hearts. Who wanted things to go their way as if Fate had no say in it.  

Besides, she didn’t want her friends putting her into an asylum.  

Taking his usual place across the street from Buffy’s house, Angelus paused a moment. She wasn’t there. What the hell…? Where could she be? He checked the Bronze and the areas she usually patrolled, plus the high school library, but no slayer. Cursing as he stalked away, Angelus headed towards Willow’s house. If his girl wasn’t there, there’d be hell to pay… 

She wasn’t, but the witch was, and Buffy’s scent was all over the redhead’s room. Good enough. 

The next stage of Angelus’ plan was already set, the chains secured against the wall above his bed, the refrigerator for her food, the clothes he’d outfit her in, all there, simply awaiting her. Dru promised not to harm Buffy and her agreement that Spike didn’t need to know a damn thing about anything until Angelus secured the slayer furthered Angelus’ urge to claim his darling now. There was something about his crazed childe that he didn’t understand, something she was keeping from him, Angelus knew. As long as she went along with his plans like the good childe she was, that mystery could wait. For the moment. 

He needed Buffy, her body, her heat, her pain, her tears, her love. He hated, absolutely hated to admit it, but Buffy was the only thing he could think of, the only thing he wanted, the only thing he desired. He wanted to show her the pleasures available at his very fingertips, wanted to show her what an eternity beside him could bring. He wanted to show her the world as they burned it to the ground. This game he played with her was running its course nicely, but it was time to rein it in, time to move on.  

When warranted, he was a patient vampire, but not being with Buffy made him impatient to the point of ludicrousness, it made his skin itch to be away from her, made his blood race when she was near. (Mine, can’t live without you, can’t survive without you.) He needed her as well as wanted her, and now that he could admit that, he wanted her now. So it was time to step up the torture of friends and family. 

Why? Because he could and it was fun; it was the little things that got them, too, stupid idiotic things that made them paranoid and run to their precious little slayer. As if they couldn’t fix anything on their own, always needing her help in some way or another. Too bad for them that Angelus was the territorial type when it came to his slayer. 

In the extreme; Buffy was his, none other’s. He didn’t like any attention taken away from him…of course the presents he left did go a long way towards keeping him fresh in everyone’s mind, including Dear Buff. 

Willow’s fish, for example, sent a lovely and silly little message to the redhead.  

Angelus snarled at the thought, now standing at his customary place across the street from Buffy’s house. Stupid fish, but she still cried over them and begged Buffy to come rescue her. It was rather amusing, actually, as were their reactions to his stalking. Like now, with Willow in his Buffy’s room, apparently planning on spending the night hiding in the relative safety of the slayer’s bedroom. 

Wrong, Red,’ Angelus thought as he stalked closer to the Summers’ house, intent on hearing what the two were talking about. He needed to be close to Buffy, though he’d probably never admit why to any but himself; he needed to be physically closer to her for reasons he was only now accepting. ‘You should be crying over the fact that I don’t want you dead. I want you alive and under my control, so that all those lovely dark magicks that churn in your aura can be mine as well.’ 

Leaning nonchalantly against the tree under Buffy’s room, Angelus’ smirk grew as he listened. Well, the bitch wasn’t wrong… 

Although for the first time I’m glad my parents didn’t let me have a puppy.” 

Buffy said nothing to that, no doubt remembering the puppy she’d found under her bedroom window. (This is your only warning. You’re lucky it was merely a dog, rather than your mother. Don’t anger me again, my love.) Angelus laughed silently as he imagined her face but then stopped, listening more closely. What was that noise? A soft whisper over her skin? Perking up, Angelus looked up towards the window, a lusty gleam in his dark eyes. His little slayer and Willow…? Granted, that might be interesting to watch, but frankly, everyone was off limits to his Buffy. Still, Buffy and Willow, interesting combo. 

“It’s so weird...” Buffy sighed as she forced her attention on Willow and away from the window. She knew he was out there, but didn’t dare say anything to Willow. For fear of what Angelus would do. For fear of what Willow would think. For fear of how she would sound when she said it (longed), explained (hoped he heard what she meant not said)

More often than not, she found herself staring out her window, just for a glimpse of her demon (lover) stalker. When she caught herself, the slayer cursed her weakness. It never stopped her from looking the next night. 

“Every time something like this happens, my first instinct is still to run to Angel. I can’t believe it’s the same person.” Not the same person, different, evil, demon, hatred, he wasn’t the same, though she couldn’t quite convince herself of that. “He’s completely different from the guy that I knew.” 

No, Angelus realized as he digested her words, it was her bracelet gliding over her wrist making that noise; too bad, he’d have to have punished his little darling, of course, but first he’d watch the slayer and her witch-friend, maybe join in…. But then he snarled as he fully registered her words. 

Damn her, he was NOT that pansy soul, and she had better learn that and learn it soon. Angelus knew Buffy knew the difference, and yet she refused to recognize that difference. Too mired in human love…he’d break her of that. His snarl turned even more feral at Willow’s next words.

“You’re still the only thing he thinks about.” 

Stalking away from the house, Willow’s word echoing, truthfully, painfully in his mind, Angelus headed back to the factory. (Soon, my love; don’t forget me, my darling; roses for love, roses for obsession; wear the jewelry, Buffy, or I’ll know.) 

Honestly, Spike never did appreciate the finer things in life, an old factory? Angelus needed a spacious view, room enough for his extra-large bed and the gold and jeweled chains he’d drape Buffy in, with plenty of room for his little slayer to wander around…considering he wasn’t letting her out again, ever.
~~~~~~~~~~
78 Miss Edith Tea Parties to Go…
 

It wasn’t hard. Actually, it was all too easy. Frankly, Angelus was a little surprised that Buffy didn’t think of it herself. But then, after his little run in with her mother, his slayer did have other things to think on. Like how to get out of the sex talk. Did parents really think fumbling through the birds and bees – who didn’t even mate like humans, let alone demons – was going to help? 

Then again, there was absolutely no danger of unwanted children from their mating. Angelus laughed now as he remembered Joyce try to speak with Buffy about birth control. 

The belly chain lay on her bed, his most recent gift to her. He’d carefully laid it out there before waiting for her clueless mother’s arrival. Buffy quickly hid it from Willow, Angelus noticed, still not willing to tell her little friend about that side of Angelus. The side that gave her gifts, gifts for her pleasure as well as his own. Gifts that showed affection and passion, not just taunting and pain. Gifts that were solely for her and for him. 

Gifts that expressed his desire and drew hers out. That showed her what she already knew but refused to admit to, that showed her what he meant to her. 

Buffy may hate those gifts, on some level, hate that he gave them to her and that she enjoyed them, craved a new one every evening. But she’d wear it, that he knew. She’d wear it because she wanted to (needed to, loved to) and because she was too afraid for her friend’s lives not to (afraid of her own passion for him.). There was a reason most slayers worked alone; having friends was a liability, not an asset. 

So now, he was barred from her house, and oh, his little slayer would pay for that. Oh, yes she would, in blood and in lust, in pain and in desire. 

His plan was to enter the house, take the mother before Buffy realized what happened, then return for his slayer, the first piece of his guarantee that Buffy would cooperate firmly in place. Once again, she thwarted his plans and Angelus, undeniably proud of her spunk and wits, still raged. Raged and hated and seethed, vowing to destroy something precious to his lover’s heart in his jealousy, anger, and some strange unnamed pain. 

An unnamed pain that he knew all too well, because he knew what it was, hated that he knew, and knew that eventually, Buffy would come to appreciate all he did for her. But for now, he needed to vent his anger over this latest setback. 

Barred, yes, but there were other ways around it, other ways to ensure her cooperation, other ways to make her his. She had no idea… 

Joyce was so blind he loved it. And she was the absolute best choice for keeping Buffy with him. Joyce may not understand her daughter, may not even know that her daughter did anything outside the norm of high school students. But Buffy needed that grounding and clung to whatever support her mother offered with a fierce protectiveness. Angelus planned on using that to his advantage. 

Dru was right, Angelus thought as he listened to the conversation between mother and daughter a moment longer before heading to the high school to find the gypsy bitch. Then again, his Dru was always right. The best way to Buffy was through those she loved. And the best was to keep her off balance, to keep her susceptible to his charms was to ensure that stupid soul was nowhere in sight. 

(I love you, my Angel. All of you.) 

In the process, destroying something precious to his darling slayer. This was something she would beat herself up over not being able to prevent, and Angelus could only smile at the pain and grief that would soon coat her sweet – addicting – scent. 

Janna wasn’t going to live long enough to put that soul back in him, Angelus vowed when Drusilla told him of her vision and subsequent visit to the local magick shop. The gypsy wasn’t going to live long enough to do anything, actually. 

And later that night, as he chased Janna the gypsy, Jenny Calendar the computer teacher and love of Rupert Giles’ life through the deserted hallways of the high school, Angelus couldn’t help but laugh. No teacher, no soul, equaled further estrangement from her friends at not being able to prevent a death Buffy really should have foreseen. Honestly, considering Jenny was the only one to know of the loophole, therefore the only one with half a hope in hell of fixing that, Buffy really should’ve seen that one coming. 

Time was most definitely on his side.

Soon…

 And now for the finale. 

Angelus contemplated how to properly show his appreciation to both Jenny and Rupert. Frankly, the bitch deserved it, the vampire thought as he carefully arranged the body of Jenny on Rupert’s bed; it was survival of the fittest, and Angelus won, plain and simple. Those gypsies brought it down on themselves when they cursed him; it was one thing to be vicious enough to curse a sadistic demon with a soul and Angelus could appreciate their vengeance – if it hadn’t happened to him. 

But to leave him a potential get out of jail free card? 

They were just asking to be disemboweled, then, asking for everything Angelus did to them. Not only that, Angelus thought as he sorted through Rupert’s CD collection – he wouldn’t have thought the watcher so in the 20th century, but he was wrong. If Jenny knew of the loophole and truly didn’t want him back, Angelus figured as he grinned at his musical choice, she should have worked harder, shared her knowledge with her lover. 

Angelus snickered. Secrets were a bad thing. And Jenny’s was the worst; not only did she lie about her past, but she didn’t bother to inform the one person who had a chance of both triggering it and stopping it of the curse. But then Angelus wouldn’t have had this chance with Buffy, had Jenny succeeded.

Maybe he should’ve thanked her, instead of killed her. Ah, well, too late now. 

As far as the vampire was concerned, all the deaths he’d committed since his return were on Jenny’s hands as well. Not that he wasn’t proud of each and every one, or at least willing to take credit for his, but that wasn’t the point. Not when it came to the guilt game he was playing with Buffy. 

Popping the CD into the player and starting it, he really loved this one, Angelus looked over his handiwork once more. Music, flowers, champagne, seduction scene. And one dead body of a potential lover. Perfect. Whistling to the soaring aria that echoed out of Giles’ as he left the condo, Angelus wondered if he should stick around to see Rupert’s face when he realized just what happened. 

But, no, Buffy’s reaction that was what really mattered. Was all that mattered. 

Her reaction to his latest gift to her. 

Sure, she’d be angry over the blow dealt to Rupert, but Angelus didn’t mind that. Rupert was in the way; he was instrumental in banning him, Angelus, from Buffy’s house, and in not helping his little slayer understand the importance of his gifts. Sure, Buffy was a bright girl, but she didn’t fully grasp the intricacies of demonic courtship, of his courtship. Watchers were supposed to help out with that, Angelus thought as he leaned on the tree near Buffy’s house.

They were supposed to guide and educated their slayers. 

Rupert failed miserably.

So, since Rupert placed Angelus’ lover out of reach, Angelus figured it was only fair to place Rupert’s lover out of reach. Ah, he so loved irony. 

Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love…the clarity of hatred…and the ecstasy of grief. 

It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow; empty rooms, shuttered and dank.

Without passion, we’d be truly dead.
~~~~~~~~~~
Dru watched as Angelus watched Buffy. The power was coming, it was coming now and couldn’t be stopped, no matter how the players on the board wanted it to; their little plans were insignificant to the Fates’ plan. To Angelus’ plan. 

Did the pretty slayer really think she could beat Angelus? No, no, her daddy let the bright star win; he let her beat him up because Buffy needed to do something. She couldn’t not. Her Angel let the watcher live, he let him walk away, helped her even, to see that the watcher was in danger. 

Poor, poor star. She was so naïve, so confused, so obviously in love with Angelus.

Part 3        Part 5

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