Track A in Track B 

Buffy looked at Angelus for long moments. 

He hadn’t moved from the high backed leather chair in front of the fireplace since she entered the room minutes ago. His long fingers were steepled in front of him, legs stretched out before him, eyes – dark and piercing in the dimly lit room – devouring her where she stood. The fire cast its warmth in a room that didn’t need it, not while she was with him, and crackled its thoughts. The sound seemed far off, however, as if it couldn’t penetrate the sphere of intimacy surrounding the two of them. 

Buffy didn’t hesitate because she was scared of him, of his formidable temper, of his anger over her leaving him. No, it was for an entirely different reason. 

She hesitated because she knew; in the three days she was not with him she realized the changes within her. 

No longer did she care about home, about Sunnydale and the gang there. She missed them and always would. Willow and Xander helped her get through so many things, that Buffy was sure she’d have collapsed without them. Giles could go back to England now and surround himself with books, tea cozies, and all the mustiness he desired, knowing that he’d done everything he could to bring her back. 

Oh, she was under no illusions that they had tried, probably more than once, to return her to their world. Willow and Giles probably barely slept, for the entire time she was gone, researching ways to return her home. Did they even realize where she was, that she wasn’t in the past, but in an alternate past? Or that she even was in the past, not kidnapped by some demon or other? There were so many questions, so many possibilities, that Buffy didn’t think all of them would ever be explored. 

It seemed they’d failed to find her and return her. Good, Buffy thought. Good. 

Fate was finally on her side, then. Allowing her to stay with the one she loved, allowing her to play out the rest of her life with the only one she ever loved. Because to her, Angel and Angelus were the same. The differences were few but obvious, but to her, to her heart, to her soul, they were the same being. 

And they loved her. 

“I missed you,” she whispered in the quiet darkness, the fire quieting its crackling as if in deference to her voice. 

“Have you?” He asked, voice snapping with temper, eyes still unfathomable as they looked through her. “And yet you ran from me.” 

“Yes,” Buffy said with no apology. “I did. But you know those reasons.” 

“Do I?” He still hadn’t moved. 

“Yes,” she said again. “You do.” A step forward, “You know the differences between us, you know that as the Slayer I cannot let you continue to do what you have been: hunting, killing, draining. Yet I didn’t stop you; I let a basic and necessary part of myself hide from what you are, purposely, because I wanted you so much, that I didn’t care.” 

Another step, staring into his hard eyes, noting the concern and affection hiding behind his façade. Buffy wondered if anyone else could see through that, could see his care, his anxiety; no probably not. Because she wasn’t aware of anyone else ever bringing that side out in him – Angel or Angelus. She didn’t like to think what she’d do if someone else did. 

“I can’t change you, and I’m not certain I want to, love,” she whispered, another step closer. “You are…” she swallowed, prepared to tell the demon before her, her deepest secrets. “You are Angelus, you are the Scrounge of Europe, and I know this. You are also my lover, the man I love with everything inside me. And I know this, too.” 

One more step, close enough to reach out and touch him though Buffy made no move to. “I want this to work,” she said, her words strangely echoing around her. They were the same words she’d spoken to Angel last year – another lifetime ago – when they were trying to ignore how much they wanted each other and live as if his soul hadn’t been on a fraying thread waving in the wind. 

Angelus rose smoothly, his tall body looking somehow taller in the dark light. He stood before her, silent and strong, watching her closely. “I cannot and will not change who I am, beloved,” he said, hands loosely hanging at his sides. He wanted to touch her, wanted to hold her close and never let her go. She was alive and whole and he wanted to feel her against him before he awoke to discover this was all some dream. 

He hated she had this power over him to do this, make him feel this. He hated that he did want to change for her. He hated that he had ever met her but despaired of losing her. Without Buffy in his life, Angelus didn’t think he cared what happened to him. It angered him. And, though he was loathe to admit it, humbled him. 

“I do hunt,” he acknowledged, “And I do kill. It’s not only what I am, but who I am.” 

Buffy nodded, her heart clenching and her stomach twisting more at his words, confirming what she’d already suspected. He couldn’t change for her. And she couldn’t for him. Where did that leave them? 

“I’m the Slayer,” she said, “I do hunt. And I do kill. And I have to do it to the very ones you consider your brethren. It’s who I am.” 

Angelus nodded. “Then we are at an impasse.” 

Swallowing, feeling as if this whole thing was about to blow up in her face, Buffy nodded. What could she say? Yes, they were at an impasse. They were polar opposites by birthright and by choice. But she couldn’t let him slip away again. 

She already let Angel do just that, walking away in the smoke-filled night; away from her, taking her heart and soul with him. She wasn’t about to let Angelus send her away because she was the one who hunted his kind. Or, a stray thought sounded, change her into something she wasn’t because they didn’t fit into each other’s worlds. 

“We don’t,” Buffy said through the tears that threatened, “Live in each other’s world. We’re too different, exact opposites. A slayer was never meant to love the creatures she hunted. Just as a vampire was never meant to do so,” she said, unwilling to use the word love there, when she wasn’t sure if Angelus truly loved her back. “But it happened, and there’s no way to change it.” 

“No,” Angelus agreed, lifting his hand to her face and cupping her cheek. He brushed a thumb across the smudges under her eye, noting the tiredness and the dirt there. At that first touch, his world righted, and he knew that whatever it took, he’d keep her by his side. 

Forever. 

“I don’t care,” he said and made sure she was looking at him when he said that. “I don’t care whether we do or not. You are mine, Buffy,” his voice was a growl, sending shivers of need through her. “You are mine, and I will never let you go.” 

Buffy remained quiet, wondering how this Angelus could say that; the one she knew for those months in Sunnydale hadn’t, Angel had been the one to walk away. Slowly she nodded, the last of her reservations melting away. Yes, yes she was his. She was his lover, his Mate. He’d taken her in every way known to Vampire and Slayer; not just physically when they made love, but in all other ways, too. 

Buffy leaned up and pressed her lips to his. “Yes,” she whispered, wrapping her hands around him, drawing him close to her. “And I won’t ever leave you.” 

Angelus swept her into his arms, holding her tightly to him. This woman was his and his alone, and not even she herself would stand in their way. 

His mouth attached to hers, tasting and probing, giving no quarter in her ultimate surrender. The choice was made, and there was no going back, no changing her mind, no remorse. Buffy was his, and Angelus never let go of what he considered his. His mark stood prominently against her neck, calling to him, and Angelus acceded to its call, mouth closing over it, blunt teeth clamping down on it. 

He’d seen several Mated Couples in his lifetime, but none had ever been as responsive to each other as Buffy was to him. When his mouth closed over his Mark, Buffy’s entire body arched into his, his name a gasp on parted lips. Her heart pounded and her blood sang, all to the beat of his name. 

Angelus. 

The vampire pulled back, looking at his Mate. Her skin was flushed, her eyes closed, her neck arching into his bite, begging for him. 

“Buffy,” he whispered so close to her hear she shivered. “Look at me, lover.” 

Slowly, ever so slowly, she opened her eyes, the green heavy with passion and a drugged need. Yes, she needed him. Yes, she loved him. Yes, she was his. This was her world now, this was her life. She couldn’t go back, and she didn’t want to. She was going to stay with Angelus no matter what happened, no matter what the future brought. 

Eyes locked, Angelus swept her into his strong arms, quickly lowering her to the floor. The fire still sparked and spit to the side, but Buffy barely noticed, her entire being centered on her demon lover. He looked down at her with fathomless, nearly black eyes, devouring her with his gaze alone. The thick rug beneath her was soft against her back as Angelus removed her dress, filthy from being worn for so long. 

“Mine,” he said as his mouth trailed down her neck to her breasts, lips assailing her nipples with teeth and tongue. 

Her dress was gone in moments, and Buffy lay open and exposed beneath his hard body. This, she understood, was possession. It was about showing her the truth of their relationship; about just what this truly was. Surprisingly, she was okay with that; possession went both ways, after all. 

Cool lips tasted her belly, tongue tracing the soft contours of her body. When his mouth moved between her legs, Buffy arched off the floor, nails digging into the carpeting beneath her. She was hot and needy, ready for him, but Angelus was not quite ready for her to have him. 

He wanted to ensure she never left again. “You’re never leaving again, beloved,” his words flitting across her skin in a cool breath. “This is it, no more will I allow you to question us, no more will I allow you to think about leaving my side.” 

“Never,” Buffy gasped. “Never again.” 

Then he was naked atop her, hard and demanding, and so very close. She needed more. Mindless, Buffy curved her body to his, legs wrapping around his waist, urging him to enter her and complete them both. She was glistening wet for him; he rock hard for her. 

He entered her without preliminaries – she was slick and hot and tight, and she was all his. She was home. 

Angelus rocked against her, fast and hard, fucking her into the floor, fucking her so hard she was a part of him that wouldn’t ever be separated again. Slamming into her only to pull back, teasing the both of them. Triumph as she begged for more, harder, now baby, please now. She was his. 

Angelus’ head buried against her neck, face shifting at the scent of her arousal, at the scent of their combined sex, at the feel of her blood, so close beneath the surface. The sounds she made, erotic whimpers of need, the way her breath hitched, the way her body responded. No one else would ever know these thing. 

Buffy cried out then, cried out his name as his fangs pierced her neck, reopening the Mark that proclaimed her his. Cried out as her orgasm swept through her, overpowering her with the sheer intensity of their joining. He was hers. 

“This is where you belong,” Angelus whispered as he forced himself away from her neck with one last sample of her blood. “You belong with me.” 

“Yes,” Buffy breathed, her body still humming as he thrust one last time into her, emptying his dead seed into her waiting womb. “You belong with me.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“We’ll make this work, won’t we?” 

Her question was quiet in the stillness after their joining. Buffy could barely move; her body no more than Jell-O as she sprawled over her lover’s still chest. How many times had she dreamed of Angel turning human? Of his deliciously cool body heating alongside hers as they lay together just as they were now? 

How many times had she then not cared, because all she wanted was her lover back, the cool, strong vampire beside her? How many fantasies had she suppressed because of their circumstances, because they couldn’t indulge themselves? How many nights had she lain with Riley wishing it was Angel beside her, inside her, Angel’s scent surrounding her, his cool chest at her back?

Riley…she’d forgotten about Riley. Oh, God, how could she?! He must be so worried, having her just disappear from the party like that. Buffy hoped that he hadn’t figured out where and with whom she was – how she didn’t know, but still. He and Angel barely got along, he and Angelus – Riley was dead. And though Buffy didn’t want him, she didn’t want him dead. 

She’d lied to Angel about loving the human, and she hoped he could forgive her that lie. He had to know, his words after their little talk…he knew. He hated it, but he knew. And such was their life together. Wasn’t that just perfect. 

Holding on tighter to Angelus, suddenly scared that he was somehow going to be ripped away from her, Buffy refused to think about it. She wasn’t going anywhere, nor was he. They were together and somehow, they had to make this work. 

“Of course,” he agreed no doubt in his mind or his voice. “There’s no other way, love.” 

“But what if they do find a way to send me back?” She asked, worried. “You were trying to find a way, too, doing that whole I’m the Scourge thing but nothing there panned out?” 

“Nothing from my sources,” he said, one hand behind his head the other lazily drawing circles over her back. He’d looked, too, though he hadn’t wanted to; there was one thing about Angelus that everyone agreed on. He was a vicious bastard, but he was an honest one. 

“Good,” she breathed, eyes beginning to close from sheer exhaustion. “And if Willow and Giles haven’t found a way to bring me back, assuming that they even know where and when to look,” Buffy reasoned, her voice heavy and fading. “Then I’m safe here.” 

His grip tightened around her. “You’ll always be safe with me,” he vowed, his voice deep with promise and a threat against all those who would even dare to try and harm her. 

“I love you,” Buffy whispered just as she drifted off to sleep, still nestled comfortably in Angelus’ arms. 

For a long moment the vampire said nothing. Then he kissed the top of her head. “And I you, my love.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Darla stood at the docks and waited. 

For more than a month, she’d waited for her Sire to return to England, to help her rid the world of this rogue Slayer and teach her childe a lesson. He arrived this night, on the ship that was even now slowly pulling into the berth. She had much to discuss with him, but that could wait. Protocol was something that’d been drilled into Darla from the moment she was turned. 

Only Angelus had the nerve to defy the Master and flaunt that protocol in his face. And Darla, fool that she was, had followed him. Look where it got her. 

No more. 

Angelus was going to pay for this betrayal, and that slut of a Slayer was gong to wish she’d never heard the name Angelus or Darla. Angelus was the Master’s, he had expressed interest in teaching his grandchilde a lesson. But the Slayer was Darla’s. And she had a wonderful plan for the bitch. 

The ship finally berthed, though Darla had to wait long, long minutes for everything to secure and the Aurelius Guards to exit. The Master’s own ship was full of everything he needed for the voyage across seas – including his very own supply of human food. The minions would be the last out, carrying those bodies and disposing of them either in the harbor or in some filthy alleyway where no one would care if they found them. 

Finally, finally, he exited. 

“Darla,” his ancient and raspy voice called to her from the fog swirling around the plank. “Childe I’ve missed you.” 

Obediently walking forward, Darla bowed before her Sire, accepting both the benevolence in his touch across her shoulders, and the punishment she knew she’d receive later for daring to leave with Angelus. 

“Sire,” she said, standing at his urging. 

“We have much to discuss,” he spoke as if they were at the Aurelius stronghold not on a London dock “But first I must settle in, Childe. Come, join me, Darla.” 

With no choice, having brought this willingly on herself, Darla followed her Sire to his waiting carriage. She was impatient to carry out her plan to kill Buffy and return Angelus to the fold – her fold as well as her Sire’s now that she’d crawled back to him for help, having been deserted by her family. Alas, that was not to be. 

Pomp and circumstance must be seen to first. 

But then, then she’d have the might of Aurelius behind her, and nothing could stop her from killing that Slayer. Angelus was the Master’s, sadly enough, but he always had a soft spot for Darla’s Childe. Angelus would live – Buffy would not.
~~~~~~~~~~
Drusilla watched the line of carriages pull away from the dock where she’d followed Miss Edith’s directions to find the prize. And ooh, her prize was so very tasty. The power the Master had was heady, strong, Ancient, but…not quiet as anything as that which Buffy possessed. 

The Slayer was as strong as any vampire, older, more powerful, and Buffy possessed all that and more. The Master, rumored to be over a thousand years old, was but a mere child compared to her. 

Drusilla’s precious Slayer, her sister, her mummy, was going to hurt them all. And Drusilla was going to have a front row seat to the games. 

“Miss Edith,” Drusilla whispered as she waked back to their townhouse, eager to tell daddy and William her news. “You get an extra treat tonight, my sweet. Mummy’s very pleased with you.” 

Miss Edith said nothing, merely smiled that mysterious smile she always had. But then she was like that, and Drusilla enjoyed her silence sometimes. 

Angelus’ silence was going to be heard across the city when Drusilla told him of what his Sire and her Sire were planning.

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