“What was that all about, Dru?” Spike asked his lost love after Buffy left. 

Turning clear eyes to him, she answered as honestly as she could. “My bright star is sad; no, she’s conflicted – things are not as they seem, they’re not at all as they seem. There are forces within her that pull and tug.” She moved to his cage, reached through. “My Spike,” she whimpered, truly scared, “what’s happening to my family?” 

Stroking her face, catching a tear that trailed down her pale cheek, Spike offered as comfortingly as he could. “I don’t know, luv. I don’t know what’s happening to the slayer.” At her growl, he offered her a grin, the one that had melted her for a hundred years. “Goddess,” he amended with a wink. “But this gang here,” he shook his head as the guards replaced the doors Buffy had torn off in her anger. The ones no one even attempted to escape through. 

That didn’t surprise him with the watcher, but it did with Whistler. He had to wonder what was happening that the destiny demon preferred to stay trapped in a cage rather than escape and take his chances with his precious Powers. It was no secret what went on outside the palace walls, but what did this demon know that had him staying in here? 

“They’re not going to accept her choices. You saw the looks, you know what they’re thinking, luv. They’re too nosy for their own good. Want to know everything that’s happening with Buffy, and don’t care how she has to bleed for them to get it.” 

“The Black Knight,” Dru whispered, leaning her forehead against the bars, just touching Spike’s. “He’s the worst of them all. Charlatan he is, and mean; he says terrible things about my Star. Does terrible things to her – he thinks only for himself, and doesn’t realize how he hurts others.” 

“Yeah,” Spike snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me. He wants and wants, but he doesn’t like no for the answer. Thinks he can always have what he wants. That she’ll give in if he badgers her enough. That, because they’re friends, she’ll blindly take his advice rather than risk alienating him. That he’s better than we are because he’s human.” Spike laughed, bringing her hand up to kiss the back of the smooth, cool skin.  

“He’s a snob.” 

“I can change that.” Dru promised with a spark in her eyes, then whined, “Why does my Star protect him?”  

“Because she’s the most forgiving being I’ve ever met, darling.” Spike sighed, and was utterly unprepared for the glowing smile Drusilla offered him.  

“Yes, my pet,” she kissed him through the bars, “she is.” Changing the subject, asked, “When are you coming home, Spike?” 

“As soon as Angelus lets me out of here, Dru.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“I love you,” he whispered, holding her close to him as they looked out at the ocean.  

A slight breeze wafted around them, cooling the heat of the day. The sunlight glinted off the water, sparkling as if a thousand diamonds floated along the swelling waves. A lone bird drifted on a wind current, soaring and diving in a lazy pattern, calling occasionally to its mate. 

“And I you, my love.” Buffy whispered back the endearment, her heart full of nothing but love for the man holding her so closely, so tenderly. Turning in his arms, she moved to kiss him… 

But he wasn’t there. No, where her lover was supposed to be, standing behind her, holding her close to him, drifted a shadow, large and black, darkening the landscape around her. Blotting out the sun, the sand, the sound of the ocean waves beating against the shore. 

A chill swept through her, immobilizing her; only her eyes could move, and they anxiously looked around the black, oily mist for her lover. 

“You’ll kill him,” the demon-shadow said, and her eyes whipped to his. “You don’t love him, you’ll kill him.” 

“No!” she protested. “I do! I do love him, I love only him.” 

The shadow laughed. “Do you?” Suddenly the shadow had Angelus in its grip, dangling him several feet above the now blackened sand. He hung limply in its misty claws, a trickle of blood dripped from his neck, from a terrible gash across his throat. She tried to reach him, tried to get him out of the demon-shadow’s grip, tried to- 

“Angelus!” 

Buffy sat up, breath coming in heaving gasps as she frantically looked for her lover. He wasn’t in their bed, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought she had killed him.  

“Oh, God,” she hissed, stumbling on the bed as she tried to find her way out of the sheets and pillows. Terrified that the blurred memories of the night before were coming to life, and that she’d killed him. 

“Baby?” he called, stalking across the floor of their bedroom from an adjoining room. And then he was there, pulling her into his arms, untangling the sheet from around her waist, combing a hand through her hair. “What’s wrong?”

“I killed you,” she whispered. “We were one the beach, and suddenly you were gone, and this shadow was there, holding you and you were bleeding. It said you were dead, that I’d killed you.” 

“I’m right here,” he smiled, pulling back so she could see him, but his hands never left her. “I’m never leaving you.” 

“But...” she shuddered against him. “It was so real. I thought that you were dead!” She was crying in earnest now, unable to control her reaction to something she never wanted to happen. “I don’t want to kill you,” she whispered, pulling him back against her. “But I’m so afraid I might try.” 

He stiffened against her, but didn’t stop his soothing caresses. Not from her words, or even from any real fear that she’d succeed. But from the fact that maybe…(she was thinking of Angel. She wanted to kill the demon to find the soul. She wanted to hold the soul in her arms, not the demon. Jealously of himself raged within him, and he was helpless to stop it.) 

 “What makes you think that?” 

“What did I do yesterday?” she asked instead, aware his demeanor had changed, but not the cause. No, she believed it was her actions of the previous day that had caused him to change towards her. “Why can’t I remember? Did I,” she paused, swallowed and moved back from him. She didn’t want to, wanted to continue to feel him against her, holding him tightly to her, but she needed to know. “Did I hurt you?” 

For a moment, he debated on lying. Just to see how she’d react. But the look in her eyes, the abject misery at such a thought, soothed him, allowed the jealously of his other half to subside into the beautiful pools of her eyes. Eyes that shone with love and fear – not for herself. But for him. 

“No, darling, of course you didn’t hurt me.” His lilting voice washed over her with the truth of the matter. 

Sighing in relief, she launched herself back into his arms, holding him tight. “I’m tired of being scared,” she mumbled against his neck. “I’m tired of always crying over things I don’t understand. I’m tired of not knowing what’s happening to me. Damn it, Angelus,” she pulled back, the fierce look on her tearstained face endearing in a way he didn’t want to analyze.  

“I’m tired of this whole thing! Why can’t we just leave? Go away, only the two of us to some place quiet, without all these demons and problems.” She rested her head against his shoulder. Her hands slipped down his arms and clasped his hands as she settled herself comfortably against him.  

“Can’t it just be the two of us?” 

The two of us…Angelus smiled. “It is, lover,” he promised. “It’s always the two of us.” 

Twisting his hand in her long hair, Angelus pulled Buffy’s head back, kissed her roughly, letting the underlying passion between them ignite with life and sound, fire, heat, and need. And love. Laying her on the bed, he showed her what the two of them could do, together. 

It wasn’t what she’d meant, and they both knew that, but it was something. A promise, maybe? A promise, Buffy decided, definitely. 

“I love you,” she whispered into the still air as Angelus kissed his way down her body. She did notice, however, that, unlike her dream, he didn’t return the sentiment.
~~~~~~~~~~
She was the hunter, the slaughterer, the predator. The ultimate predator. She’d had a name, once long ago (Venatrix Caedes), and it struck fear in the hearts of all. Fear and love, for she was the mother goddess, the creator, the giver. Not God, never that, for God had created even her.  

But she was powerful. Strong, ancient when the earth was young; tied to the Earth, part of it with its golden sun, warm ground, life-giving oceans.  

She was the stalker, by day and by night, the creature who could walk in places her prey could not, who could track them through land, caves, sea. She was invincible (When one died, another was called) and she knew it. 

Trophies were her prize, a mountain of them to show her skills, her prowess. Blood was for the animals she hunted, eating the prey was for the weaker. She was strong, powerful, connected in ways even she didn’t fully understand, though she knew it was there. The Earth that called to her, the Air that caressed her, the Water that gave her life, and the Fire that provided her drive.

These things and more were part of her, and she a part of it.  

Both of them. 

The line had been broken, fractured into halves that were not equal and never could be. The elder was always the stronger, while the younger was always far behind. And yet now, with this new world created in the place she once called her own, she found herself split. 

(Over the years, the process of creating/calling/making The Slayer has been domesticated, to some extent, by those who feared Her power. Now, with the world as it is, changed and primal, things are different. The sleeping demon within Buffy, the thing that is Slayer, that give strength/power/life/love has awakened; has come out and roared as the land around becomes more primordial, over run with demons She was meant to destroy.) 

(The Slayer within Faith, confused and dormant, has awakened as well, searching for answers, for its other half. It wants to know, and yet cannot find, the means to answer the barely-formed questions it/she/they have. And still, there’s something there, something that calls to her Other, something that hides away. It tears at her, and Faith doesn’t know what to do, though the answers are right there, have always been there, but the means to hear them were forgotten with time.) 

(Venatrix Caede, Huntress Slaughterer) 

Originally, She took energy from her Prey, growing more powerful with every kill, even as the earth regained itself from the hoards that trampled it eons ago. The stronger the land, the stronger She. And still, those who ‘Created’ her have sought, have always sought, to take that away from her. To keep her chained (Chained to the Earth) for the power she holds; tamed for their civilized standards, domesticated for their contrary purposes. 

The fear they have over a being (it/she/they) fashioned to their standards, their means, their ends. The fear they have over something that can save them all, and destroy them with a whispered word, a gesture, a thought. Took that power and made it their own, never knowing the harm they caused themselves in doing so. 

And who took all that and became something else. Something she wanted to be. Something they, together, had to be.
~~~~~~~~~~
Faith looked out from the rooftop of the Watcher’s Building.  

The landscape was far from what she’d expected London to look like, far from what any scene should. It didn’t bother her. Not at all; she wanted to jump from the roof, run through the streets (fields), her weapons on her – sword, stake, shield – and kill. Destroy those who threatened her world, who wanted to overrun it with red dusk, with evil and with power not (hers) balanced.  

But she didn’t, though the nearly irresistible need coiled tight within her, Faith restrained from leaping down the eight or so stories and hunting.  

She had people to protect here – Dawn, Tara, Jules, Doyle. Doyle. Not her first choice for a lover, and yet Faith found herself hopelessly drawn to him. His wry wit, his ramblings, even his tacky dressing.  

His heart – how he showed her what was in his heart – not literally of course – and how he cared. For this world despite his former feelings on letting it go to hell. When it had, he’d changed. Or maybe she had. 

Or maybe, together, they’d both realized there were things one simply couldn’t ignore – fate, destiny. Love. 

Was she in love with him? Maybe. She cared for him more than she’d believed herself capable of caring for anyone. Including herself. She wanted nothing bad to happen to him, and yet, she wanted him to stay with her. That, in itself, put him in danger.  

She was too weak to send him away, however, wasn’t sure she’d survive without him. 

“He’s made it to America,” Doyle’s voice floated from behind her, the Irish accent doing more to soothe her than all of Jules’ tea.  

(Run with your Mate, begin a new dynasty. Hunt, kill, take. Rebuild. It lies within you, strong and powerful. All you have to do is accept.) 

“Damn shame the boat didn’t sink,” she grumbled. 

“We’re not that lucky,” Doyle agreed. “The assassin is on his way to kill Buffy, and Angelus is going to kill us all when he discovers the plot.” 

“Have Tara and Dawn found a spell to protect us?” 

“Yes, but Travers is lurking around now, suspicious.” 

“Damn the man.” She wanted to scream, but controlled it. Why? Why control it? Because that was the way she’d been taught? Because (tamed, domesticated) that was what they wanted?  

Letting lose a primal warrior’s bellow, Faith’s voice echoed across the land, letting all who dwelled there know that the Slayer was back. 

The dreams had taught her things, things she’d never known, never would have had Angelus not brought hell to earth. She was the top of the food chain (chained to the earth) and she knew it. Gone was the follower, the one who played by the Watcher Council’s rules. Not that Faith ever really played by anyone’s rules. 

In its place, lived the Slayer. Strong, powerful, knowing. She wasn’t about to let this world, her world, fall into complete darkness. 

“We’ll be ready when Angelus arrives,” she promised Doyle, turned to face him with eyes that glowed power and knowledge.
~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy stood at her balcony, looking out over the land. Once, it was a mountainous greenery where birds soared and animals mated, hunted, lived. 

Now it was…not. And still the predator within her called to the land, wanting to strip of her finery and run among the beasts, hunting those she was created to hunt, destroying the things that crawled the earth and tainted all she stood for. All she was. 

And she was changing, she knew that. Whether from the changing landscape, the powerful energies she now had, thanks to Angelus, Acathla, or something else, Buffy wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure she wanted to know, and yet, in some part of her mind, did know. 

Because, regardless of the threats to those below, she had to change; had now become stronger, tougher. Able to know when Angelus was near, when her life was in danger; able to create chains out of nothing (sleep, my love, she thought to him commanded him, so he wouldn’t disturb her as she ferreted out the threat to her.) to keep Angelus bound to their bed.  

“Isn’t it time for your visit, lover?” he asked. Stepping behind her, wrapping strong arms around her waist, Angelus kissed the side of her neck, sending shivers of pleasure through her. 

Just like in her dream. Almost afraid to turn around, despite the complete lack of ocean in front of her, Buffy nonetheless did so. Stretching her arms up and around his neck, she brought his lips to hers, kissing him deeply and passionately, no longer hiding, no longer lying about, her need for him. 

(What changed? Why did she accept now, when she couldn’t then?) 

“Come with me?” she wondered, though didn’t know why she did. 

“Always.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“What was that all about?” Willow asked, still looking confused. And concerned, and not a little frightened. She was shaking, and snuggled deeper into a now Oz-Oz.  

But Oz didn’t say anything, merely held her tightly, eyes closed. He’d missed what happened earlier, but his wolf hadn’t. No, some part of him realized what happened, on some level. And now, a couple of hours later, the effects were still rippling through the dungeons. 

He knew what happened, or suspected at least. It was the same thing that was happening to him. The beast within was gaining control. Or maybe not gaining so much as…as what? The wolf within him was stronger, he could feel it, sense it when he both was and was not the beast. 

And he could sense outside things, remember outside things, when he was himself. It was enough to give a person a complex, trying to keep up with people and tenses of yourself. 

“Giles,” Willow turned to look at the watcher, the only person who could explain what had happened. 

“If you say a word,” Hank muttered through the bars, “he’ll kill you, and I’m not sure Buffy will mourn.” 

Glancing at Hank, Giles looked around the remaining group. Joyce and Hank were separated now, what with Xander gone, and he had the admittedly tiny cell space to himself, now that Cordelia was gone. So much had changed, so little had not. Or maybe, more hadn’t changed than he realized… 

Haltingly, Giles told the group what he knew. Buffy’s dreams – nightmares – the First Slayer, the merging with the demon that was/is the Slayer. Even the little of the outside world he’d glimpsed from his new prison in the library. 

“You mean she’s a demon?” Joyce demanded, eying Giles suspiciously. “I gave birth to a demon?” 

Whistler, still shaken over how close he’d come to dying at Buffy’s hands offered, “She was born a human girl. Certain predilections in her makeup allow the Slayer-Demon to…find her, for want of a better word, when the previous slayer dies. She wasn’t always destined to become the Slayer.” He sighed, rubbed his still aching throat. 

“The Demon that is the Slayer picks from those Destined. It chooses who it will enter, who it will bond with.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Willow demanded of Whistler, angry over his silence, over his omissions. What had Buffy said when she’d come down in her bloodstained dress, talking in a language Willow knew she shouldn’t be able to understand but did?  

(“You thought you could contain me. You thought you could keep me down, could make me something to be controlled. You were wrong. You know nothing about Us, nothing about the power you tried – and failed – to control. The girls you raped…. You believed yourselves to be higher than Us, superior in your humanity though you used a demon to rape a girl and gain that which you, yourselves, could not accomplish. Power. How many died before you found the First? How many did you dishonor, desecrate, destroy in your attempt to find the One who could hold the demon, who could hold Us?”) 

“Because,” Spike smirked. “He wasn’t allowed to. Of course, now that the cat, so to speak, is out of the bag…I guess you really can’t trust those Watchers, eh,
goddess?” 

All eyes shifted from Giles to the door where Angelus stood livid, protective, and smug behind a horrified Buffy. She said nothing as she stood in the doorway, silently watching the scene before her. Only her eyes betrayed her hurt as she finally moved, forced herself to function and move away from Angelus’ comforting arm to Giles’ cage. Staring at him, watching him with anger and distress at his blasé attitude towards her secrets, she glared at him.  

“Too ashamed, Giles?” she hissed. “Can’t meet my eyes? Can’t look me in the eye and admit what you’ve done?” 

Slowly looking up, looking at her, Giles stared at her. And deep in his eyes, where even he probably didn’t realize it lurked, there was…revulsion. Fatherly pride and love, and revulsion. “I trusted you with this. I trusted you to keep this quiet, a secret. You lied to me. Why?” this last was a whisper. Clearing her throat, she said louder, “I thought you were my friend, that you wanted what was best for me.” 

“I do,” he insisted, standing and walking to the bars separating him. And, he wondered, protecting him. But then he’d seen her earlier display and knew that mere metal bars wouldn’t be enough to keep Buffy from tearing him to pieces. 

“Then why did you betray me?” Turning to leave, not wanting anything more to do with them, she paused beside Angelus, her hand slipping into his. “Why couldn’t you just keep this to yourself?” 

Feeling Angelus’ hand on her back, the cool comfort of it, she whispered to him, “I want to leave.” But before she walked out the door, in a voice almost a whisper yet oddly still carried throughout the room. “You disgust me.” There were tears in her voice but she refused to let them fall. “There is more honesty in the demons I slaughter, than the humanity I bleed for and protect.” 

Angelus led her through the door, a part of him sorry she had to witness that, but the majority of him gloated with victory. “I’ll be right back, baby. I have a threat to keep.” 

She nodded, wiping the backs of her hands across her cheeks as her guards shifted uncomfortably beside her. “Take her to our rooms,” Angelus instructed them. “And make sure no one sees her. Call in Drusilla,” he added, “I’ll be there shortly.” 

Watching his lover walk slowly up the stairs, Angelus allowed the growl to finally leave his lips. Turning to reenter the deathly silent room, he said in a low threatening voice, “And here’s an ironic twist.” All eyes were immediately on his. Looking at Giles, he smiled. “You’re so predictable, Watcher. For a bit there, I thought I’d judged you wrong, that you truly did care for Buffy as deeply as you professed.” 

He shook his head, walking forward. “I’m almost sorry I was wrong.” Looking over his shoulder at Willow, he allowed her to glimpse a hint of fang, chuckled at Oz’s growl of territory.  

“We’ll get to you, later, Red. The best friend, the one who couldn’t leave it alone when she asked. I think it’s time you redefine your role in her life. Or at least your feelings towards her.” 

Looking around the room, he dismissed Whistler with a sneer, stared at Joyce for a long moment, wondered what Hank thought of all this – and how to kill him if he went against Buffy, though Angelus was nearly sure he wouldn’t – and refocused on Rupert Giles.  

“The fastest way to get you to do what I want, Ripper, is to threaten you with consequences if you do. Congratulations. I wanted her away from you pathetic losers, but knew if I denied her, it would make her that much more determined. You took care, in one conversation, what I thought would take years.” 

Sharply turning on his heel, he stopped by Spike’s cell. “And you, William,” he said so softly only Spike could hear. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“If you keep me in here any longer, Angelus,” Spike sighed with absolutely none of his usual bravado in his voice. Only a sincere need to get out was there, and, as his gaze swept the rest of the dungeons, disdain. “I’m going to go crazy. Let me out.” 

“Hmmm,” Angelus nodded, but made no move to do that. Nodding once more to his grandchilde, he left.  

Walking back to their rooms, Angelus did his best to push all thoughts of triumph away. Buffy was genuinely upset over this, and he, as her Mate, was going to comfort her as best he could. The next stage of his plan wasn’t moving along as well as this one had, but he was confident. 

The glass vase hit him in the chest, shattering as it fell to the floor. 

“What the-” he started, shocked and a little sore from the impact. 

“Don’t play innocent,” Buffy snarled as she picked up another item – a heavy looking stone. Where she got it from, he didn’t know, but it looked like it’d hurt. And he had supreme confidence in her aim, unfortunately. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” He wasn’t, however, that stupid, and knew what she meant. The question was, how? How did she know his plans? He’d been careful enough to play things a certain way, to ensure that, as he manipulated those below, Buffy was free from any such manipulation, and could and would see them for who they were. 

“I’m talking about what just happened down there,” she said, and he could tell she’d been crying. “I know they’re not the best friends, sometimes they can be-” her voice hitched and to make up for it, she threw the rock. Ducking as quickly as he could – and considering his advanced reflexes it was pretty damned fast – the blasted thing still hit him in the shoulder. 

Angelus was nearly certain it followed him as he moved. 

“Sometimes they can be hurtful, but that’s because they don’t understand. This isn’t their world; it’s mine. I brought them into this. What they don’t understand isn’t their fault; they try – harder than I had any right to expect.” 

Stalking forward, eyes wild with colors, power streaming off her in waves of anger, Buffy poked him in the chest. “I’m sure you didn’t lie,” the laugh was bitter. “I’m equally sure you set this up so that I’d find out. That I can’t trust them. That my friends, despite the title, are human with all the faults that come with that. I knew this. But what I can’t forgive is you.” 

Grabbing her arms, trying to get her to stop poking him, Angelus pulled her forward. Nose to nose, he said, voice angry at her presumptions, “I did nothing, lover. I wasn’t the one to blurt out what happened; I was the one to threaten Giles if he said anything.” 

“Yes, and I’m sure you knew he’d do it anyway.” Jerking free of his grasp, Buffy stepped back so she could look up at him without straining her neck. “Why did you bring him up here in the first place?” she asked, voice small and lost. “Why did you let him see me like that, if you were only going to use it to your advantage?” 

A tear slipped down her cheek and she angrily brushed it away. “I gave you everything I had, and asked for nothing in return.” Another hitch in her voice, but she pushed on. “All I wanted was everyone downstairs safe…and you. Instead, I’m lied to by everyone I thought I trusted.” Another hitch but her eyes blazed with righteous indignation. “Everyone I loved.” 

Moving towards her again, Angelus, scared now, took her arms, gently this time. “Baby,” he said, “Buffy. It wasn’t like that. I never lied to you; I never told you something that wasn’t the absolute truth, did I?” She shook her head, but the anger was still there. “Did I know they’d turn on you?”  

A short laugh, harsh and resentful. “Of course I did. In fact, if you remember, I told you they would in the beginning. Did I set it up so you would see them for who they really were?” He nodded, “Yes. But I swear to you, Buffy,” and his voice dropped, his eyes calmed, forehead touching hers. “That was all I did. If I could have prevented those nightmares…”

His arms slipped around her, pulling her unresisting yet stiff body to his, holding her tightly. The fear of those days still haunted him, the thought that he could – and had been so close to – losing her chilled him as nothing before had. “I swear, baby, if I could have prevented those nightmares I would have. I never want anything bad happening to you, not even so you could see your friends for who they are. Nothing, you hear me?”  

And he was back to holding her before him, shaking her once so she would understand. “If anything happened to you…” he swallowed, opening himself to her. Honesty – wasn’t that what she always wanted, wasn’t that what he promised her? “I wouldn’t survive if anything happened to you.” 

Nodding, raising a hand to his cheek, she whispered, “I know.” Silent for a long moment, she eventually said, “But you manipulated me.” 

“Them, not you. I wanted you to see them for what they were – parasites who feed off you, using you to their advantage and then criticizing you when you fail to meet their view of you. You say they’re only human, with human faults and feelings, but what about you?” 

“Am I human?” she countered. “Am I only human? I’m a demon, I can feel that inside me, always there, little whispers,” her hand went to her head, fingers flitting around her temple in a fine imitation of Drusilla. When Buffy realized what she was doing, she stopped. Great. 

“And what about what you,” she poked him in the chest again, and he growled. This wasn’t exactly how he expected this conversation to go. Grabbing her hand, he held it in his, absently playing with the ring she wore – third finger, left hand. She never asked to take it off – wasn’t that saying something? “What you and damn Acathla did to me. I know it was something, I can feel that, too. Even before this slayer demon dream thingy.” 

“Buffy,” his voice was calm in the face of her rage, and he wondered at that. Not that he cared for her, no; he adored her, she was his world – it wasn’t that. It was why he was so calm to begin with when he knew he was right.  

But then, maybe she was – just a little bit – too. 

“Love, whatever happened to you as a result of Acathla…I don’t know,” he admitted with a sigh, still holding her close. He was afraid that if he didn’t, she’d leave – or throw something else at him. “I don’t know what happened. Up until now, I thought it was because you were caught in the shockwave when he awoke. But with the slayer-demon. I just don’t know.” 

“You’ve been looking?” there was hope in her voice now, relieving Angelus – he’d thought he’d lost her, that this was something she wouldn’t be able to forgive – manipulating her as her friends had. 

“Every day,” he swore. “Since we first awoke here, I’ve been looking for the reasons. And,” he paused, but wasn’t ready to tell her he was also looking for a way to keep her with him…forever.  

“And…?” she prompted. 

“I’ll tell you later,” he promised. And added quickly at her narrowed silver look, “As soon as I find the answers.” 

Nodding, she broke free of his grasp, walked to the balcony. It was her favorite spot to think, though the view lacked something. “We need a beach here,” she murmured. “Sun, sand, ocean…a few gulls, even.” Then, “What did they do to me? The first Watchers, what did they do to me? Created something not natural, made something that shouldn’t ever have been.” 

“Regardless of what you are, my love,” he assured her, coming up behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he kissed the side of her neck where the raised tissue beckoned him. She shivered at the touch, a low moan escaping her. So responsive to him, to his touch, to his mark. 

“It hasn’t changed the beautiful soul you have; nor the beauty and purity within that burns fiercely bright. It was,” he chuckled, “what drew me to you in the first place.” Angel, Angelus, soul, demon. But neither brought that up. “It draws me just as it burns me.” 

“I can’t forgive this,” she whispered, still looking out at the land, not moving out of his arms. “Not yet.” She felt him relax behind her, wondered what he was truly thinking, feeling, but was too afraid of the answers to reach out and see for herself. Besides, shouldn’t he tell her? Not make her guess? 

“You lied and used me just as you accuse them of doing. I almost expected it from them. I never did from you.” 

“No, lover, now you’re lying to yourself. I have not lied to you,” he shrugged, turning her to face him. “Not told you everything that I admit. But,” his eyes narrowed at her. “No more than you’ve told me everything, hmm?” she didn’t look away from his gaze, but didn’t deny it, either. Lifting an eyebrow at that, and to emphasize his point, he gave a rough chuckle.  

“But I won’t let you lie to yourself about what this tantrum of yours is, either. Yes, I manipulated them, the watcher, the friends, but you’re angry at me because I was right; I warned you about what would happen, and they did just that. You want to blame me because they’ve disappointed you over and over again? Because their support of your decisions in your life, whether personal or occupational, are conditional? Fine, lover, you do that.” 

He stepped back, even if the look in her eyes cut something deep within him. Where was his callousness? Where was his fierceness? Why, when watching her fall apart before him, did he want to take her in his arms and promise her anything he already hadn’t given her?  

Damn the woman, he gave her everything, and it wasn’t enough. What more did she want? 

“Used?” he shook his head. “Are they not alive? Are they not fed, bathed, protected? I allow them to live for you. I gave them – and you – the opportunity to prove me wrong. Free will, my sweet, remember? Every step of the way it’s been their choice. Who is using whom, Buffy? You want to place the burden of their flaws and weakness on my shoulders; it’s not happening, baby. I won’t play scapegoat for them. Not even for you. Face it. It’s over and done with, and you know who they are and what they are. Now that you know, they will never disappoint you again. The pain of their betrayal is in the past.” 

“And the pain of your betrayal?” she asked calmly. 

“I,” he stressed, “did not betray you.” 

“Yes, Angelus,” she nodded, “you did. Not like they did, no, never that. Not by betraying me. By not knowing me well enough, by not seeing me for who I really am, you betrayed me. You think I don’t know what you’ve done for both me and them? I do. You think I don’t know what they’re really like? That Willow has a selfish, addictive core? I knew that. That my mother needs normality in her life, and this new revelation about her daughter won’t send her over the edge? Been there, done that. Giles? You think I wasn’t hoping – praying – that Giles would keep this, as he had nothing else, to himself? I had hoped he would, but I know him too well. We won’t even go into Xander – I knew he hated you – Angel – but I never realized it went so far to hurt me.” 

Stepping away from him, she headed for the main door, intent on leaving this conversation as fast as she could. “But I thought you had more respect for me, more lo…more something – after all, you did create an entire world for me – than to use those around me to prove I couldn’t trust them.” 

Glancing over her shoulder, she allowed him to see how deeply he’d hurt her. “I know who they are. You didn’t have to use me – or them – to prove that. But I guess you don’t know me. Don’t care despite your,” she waved a hand to encompass their world. “Whatever you call it with the new world and all.” 

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