Angelus watched as his deliciously docile mistress obeyed his command. He was being magnanimous enough to give her a break from studying, but as always, not without a price.
“Higher.”
She was already flushed from laving his cock with her clever mouth, but her movements were steady and graceful.
“Mmm…that’s lovely, Darling. Just lovely.” Tracing the curve of her naked bottom with his crop, Angelus felt the ever-present lust inside awaken with a wicked stretch. She’s come so far in such a short amount of time---and all without breaking.
“Zip me up.”
The disappointment in her hazel eyes did not hide from him and he laughed softly. He watched as her white teeth carefully clamped onto the small zipper. With a mere lift of her head Buffy accomplished her task flawlessly before taking hold of the buttonhole. Although more challenging, she had no problem in looping it over the button.
Angelus could feel a spurt of pride soften the hard lines of his mouth. It would never do to show her how pleased she makes me. I can’t spoil her. He tapped her naked cheek sharply with the leather crop.
“Stand up, lover.”
He could feel his dark spirit sing with maniacal triumph as Buffy rose up with eyes properly downcast, mouth open, and legs spread appropriately. She belongs to me and she knows it.
“I’m going to give you a choice, Buff. Where do you want it?”
Her answer was immediate.
“Wherever it pleases you, Master.”
Ah, these moments. Angelus knew that Buffy initially felt uncomfortable with calling him master. “Lay down on the floor.” He knew that she believed it to be silly and something that was often done tongue-in-cheek. “Take off your panties.” In this day and age, it was usually said as the product of some horrible S&M porn. “Lift your hips.” However, its psychological impact was the same as it was centuries ago.
Total enslavement.
The night was still and the mood expectant as he surveyed his human pet. Everything about her brought him pleasure and fulfillment. Angelus had yet to feel a moment of boredom with Buffy and it delighted almost as much as it frightened. Frightened? No, I fear nothing. Especially not her.
He reached into his pocket and fingered the small bottle of lubrication. “It pleases me to have your ass,” he whispered.
In response she drew her stocking-covered legs up and tilted her hips.
“Oh, that’s lovely.”
However, it wasn’t his penis that he coated with lubrication, nor his fingers. Instead it was the handle of ubiquitous crop he held throughout every tutoring session that gently entered her body.
Studying every hint of emotion in her face, Angelus saw the disappointment again. He leaned down and teasingly joined his mouth to hers while his hand never stopped its thrusting movement.
“I adore you.”
It was the closest to the words she wanted that she’d ever receive from him. Angelus played on her secret hope, knowing that she believed if she suffered all his whims perhaps one night he would admit that he loved her.
He’d see Buffy’s body rotting in the ground first.
So, Angelus did not love her, but he did adore her. There was no lie there.
Her plaintive mewls of distress reached his ears, causing him to pull back.
“What’s wrong, lover?”
She opened her eyes and rasped, “I want more…please.”
He chuckled in masculine amusement.
“You ask nicely, I deliver.” What I want to deliver, anyway.
Feathering kisses along her neck and the swell of her young breasts, Angelus never stopped the sensual slide of his hand. The restless shifting of her legs brought devilish joy to his eyes as a smirk lifted up his lips.
Carefully and slowly he continued to rain small kisses across her midriff, only pausing to lift up her white babydoll shirt. He allowed his claws to lengthen and raked one finger across her flawless skin. The smell of her exquisite blood hit his senses as his eyes flashed in response.
Such an action would’ve created terror in a normal woman, but not in his Slayer. Instead, she moaned in abandoned pleasure.
I love this change in her. I love what I have wrought.
Moving down her body, Angelus licked the crimson trail away from the already closed wound. He nipped the taut flesh of her stomach before dipping his tongue into the small navel.
Slowly, carefully he made his way down her body until her bare, feminine treasure was right beneath his mouth. Although he had noticed it earlier in the evening, Angelus murmured, “You shaved. Why?” Looking up, he watched her pretty face in avid anticipation while his hand continued its decadent movements.
There it was. Uncertainty. Buffy was unsure if her actions had pleased him. Good.
“Because I thought you would like it.” A moment passed in silence before she softly asked, “You do like it, don’t you?”
This is the way it should be. As long as we can do this forever, I’ll never need anything else. He frowned fiercely at those thoughts. Forever? Not for him.
Remember who you are and what she is, his demon side whispered angrily.
“Angelus?”
The sweet sound of her troubled voice broke through his uncertain rage, instantly soothing his vanity. Without responding to Buffy’s question, Angelus lowered his dark head and ran his tongue across her bare mound. Resting his nose against her smooth nether lips, he deeply inhaled his mistress’ essence, taking her scent into his body.
That’s right. Give into your lust. It’s far simpler this way, the evil within crowed in satisfaction. His demon seemed to be making more of an appearance than ever before. Violence swirled within him constantly, encouraging the bloodlust and rage to take control of his actions.
Angelus could constantly ‘hear’ this dark voice pointing out his flaws in regards to the girl beneath him.
“Put the bitch in her place.”
“Treat her like a whore.”
“Kill her. Kill her. KILL HER!”
Crouched over Buffy’s pliant form he dragged his tongue over her quivering flesh before growling with hunger. Eagerly lapping at the sweetness flooding his mouth, Angelus refused to acknowledge the uneasiness making its stamp on his peace.
He shifted his other hand so that it could fill the feminine emptiness. Pursing his lips around her core of pleasure, Angelus closed his eyes and lost himself within Buffy’s ecstasy.
He forced himself to forget the darkness threatening to consume him.
He forced himself to forget the helplessness he battled each time she left him.
Yet, he no matter how much he lost himself in her cries, he couldn’t forget the nightmares.
Ones that had been plaguing him for months.
“Safe. You’re safe.”
“You came. They told me you wouldn’t.”
“Safe.”
“I’m sorry that I believed them.”
“I can’t risk you anymore.”
“Angelus?”
“Close your eyes, my love.”
They sickened him. They taunted him. They refused to let him enjoy the debaucheries to be had in life. They made a mockery of all his power, all his ambition…all his will.
“Ah, yes!”
Devoting himself to Buffy’s pleasure, Angelus pressed his fingers deeper. He felt a thrill knowing he was completely responsible for the delicious pant in her throat. “That’s right, Baby. Just like that,” he mumbled against her warm, wet flesh. “Break apart for me.”
“Ah…Angelus…umm…yes.”
At first, his dreams would come once a week. Then they began staining his mind whenever he closed his wretched eyes. When he couldn’t take the helplessness anymore, Angelus had forgone sleep, choosing to stay awake with manic need. As a result, he would spend weeks without respite and it would show.
“Angelus, you look so pale. Are you hungry again?” Buffy’s voice was sweet with concern as she ran her delicate fingers across his brow.
“Baby, I’m dead---hence the paleness.” Although his tone was dry and jovial, Angelus felt miserable on the inside. Even without the benefit of a reflection, he knew that he looked horrible. He could feel the hollows under his eyes and the lines of exhaustion bracketing his mouth.
And his mistress’ blood could do nothing to ease it. No matter how many times she fed him.
“Don’t say that!”
Shaken from his troubled thoughts, he looked down and saw Buffy’s stricken face.
“What? That I’m dead?”
Climbing onto his lap, she fiercely replied, “Yes. You’re not dead. You’re a vampire. There’s a difference.”
Angelus laughed softly and leaned his head back against the leather chair. “Ah, that’s right,” he breathed. “One I’m just in the ground, the other I’m just a blood-sucker.”
Without another word, Buffy lifted herself higher and pressed her neck against his mouth.
“Stop saying things like that,” she muttered. “Here. You’re still hungry. Feed.”
“I’m not hungry.” He gently tried to push her back, but the Slayer would have none of it.
“Feed!”
Angelus’ sudden irritation caused him to snap, “I’m not fucking hungry! Now quit treating me like a child.”
Buffy drew back, an expression of sorrow flitting across her face, before she frowned in anger. “Maybe I’ll stop treating you like a child when you stop acting like one.”
“Buff…”
“You’re pale and you look like shit.”
He began growling in warning as his vanity was piqued.
“If you’re not hungry, what is it?”
“Nothing, Bitch.” ‘There. Let her start crying.’
Instead Buffy leaned closer and stated, “All you’ve done is just lay around here. You don’t go out anymore, you just stay holed up in this house! Now what is going on? Are you depressed?”
Standing up he flung her off of him. “Depressed? Are you insane, woman? I’m not a damned girl. I don’t get depressed.” He looked down at his wrinkled dressing gown and muttered, “I’m just tired. That’s all.”
“Well, let’s go to bed.”
“I said tired, Buffy,” Angelus explained in exasperation. “I didn’t say I wanted sex.”
Her cheeks flushed in rejection and embarrassment as she answered, “I didn’t say sex. I said bed. You’re tired. Let’s go to bed---as in sleep.” She offered her hand and waited for him to take it.
He stared at her for a full minute, noting how she attempted not to fidget beneath his hooded gaze, before reluctantly taking her outstretched hand.
The truth was that while he may not have needed sleep like a human, he did need to the rest.
He didn’t really need the unconsciousness that came with slumber. Just the rest.
At least that’s what he told himself as he sat there in the darkness, waiting for her to come to him.
“What took you so long? I told you to come straight here after training!”
Buffy wearily dropped her bag on the floor. “I did,” she replied in a tight voice.
Distantly, Angelus realized that she was beginning to sound like that more and more often. ‘Is she angry with me? Why? What did I do?’ As the thought came to him, it scattered like decayed petals in the wind.
“Then what’s that in your hand?”
She let out a tiny sigh, one that did not go undetected.
He could feel a growl work its way up his throat as his teeth lengthened with the primal need for domination. Angelus saw the wariness in her pretty face before it disappeared with an easy smile.
In a pleasant voice she answered, “Ice cream. I thought you’d like some.”
He gracefully got up from his shrouded throne and stalked over to his mistress. Without a word he took the frozen treat in her hand and unceremoniously dropped it on the floor.
Buffy jerked back in shock before yelling, “Why did you do that for?!”
Ignoring her question, Angelus gripped her slender arm tightly and quickly led her to the bedroom. “When I tell you to come straight here, I mean come STRAIGHT here.”
She attempted to pull back from him, only to cause him to hurt her with his claws. The coppery tang of blood scented the air for a moment before he flung her facedown on the massive bed.
“Angelus! Please…”
Straddling her body, he hissed, “Be quiet!”
Immediately she became still.
Satisfied, he didn’t bother to remove all of their clothing as he took her roughly on the bed. Thrusting into her tightness, he dismissed the smell of salt permeating the air about them.
The only thing Angelus could focus on was the soothing comfort he felt knowing she was right beneath him.
Only later as he heard her muffled sobs did he turn to her and whisper, “We’ll get some more ice cream tonight, alright?”
Curled in a ball away from him, Buffy brokenly replied, “A-All I d-do is try t-to make you h-happy. Why isn’t t-that enough?”
It was a perfect moment to gloat. However, Angelus had no answer, no barb, no bit of cruelty.
All he had was confusion.
‘Why isn’t it enough? She loves me. ME. Unlike those other faithless bitches I’ve had over the centuries, she’s different. So why do I continue to torment her? Why can’t I fucking stop?’’
The restless shifting of Buffy’s hips beautifully told of her impending orgasm. Thrusting both hands faster, he skillfully continued the ministrations of his mouth. Within a minute she shattered for him.
Angelus lifted his head and greedily drank in the exquisite picture lying before him. Buffy’s cheeks were flushed a perfect pink while her trembling mouth was tinted a deep rose color. Staring into her face he could see the gift of immortality transforming her features again.
It seemed to only happen when she filled to bursting with emotion. Usually for him.
Laying an open-mouthed kiss on her stomach, Angelus was inspired to whisper, “You’re so beautiful, my darling girl. So infinitely beautiful.” Without glancing up he could feel her joy and could taste her happiness.
At first, Buffy’s enhanced features was just one of many mysteries consuming him and driving him to spend days poring over any text he could get his hands on. However, his work had finally paid off when he discovered that the key to this little enigma lay in the joining of immortal and blessed blood.
Buffy now walked a line between both and her humanity sometimes slipped.
Angelus removed the crop from her body and laid it next to her head. “Do you want to study some more?” he gently asked. He correctly read her hesitation and assured her with, “Tell me your truth---not what you think I want to hear.”
It seems that all I live to do now is to make you miserable. At least I can sometimes make you smile.
And he did.
She reached up and began caressing the fine hair on the back of his neck. “I don’t want to study,” she whispered. Buffy’s grip became firm as she yanked him down. “I want YOU.”
Angelus chuckled in lusty glee. “I like your truth, Buff. It’s fun.”
Thrusting his tongue into her warm mouth, he felt perverse pleasure that Buffy didn’t care that her mother was just down the hall. He enjoyed the delicious abandonment that had her writhing on the floor as she greedily drew her legs around his waist.
“We don’t have that much time, Buff,” Angelus murmured while running a hand up her silk-covered thigh. “We have to get you ready for the exam.”
She nipped his chin impatiently. “I don’t care…we’ll study later.”
Part of him felt like chastising her for impertinence, however the other part enjoyed her sexual aggressiveness.
But he could only take that for so long.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he yanked it hard. He licked the side of her mouth before growling, “Do you want it rough?”
“Yes!”
“I’m going in the same place,” Angelus whispered in dark warning.
“I don’t care…just as long as you’re in me,” she moaned in return.
Scraping a fang across her lip, he watched in fascination as a bead of blood appeared. “Mmm, that’s what I…LOVE…to hear,” he murmured.
He sat up and reached in his pocket for the bottle. Flicking it open, he smirked as Buffy sat up as well and once more unzipped his pants with her teeth. Angelus freed himself from the confines of his underwear before rubbing his engorged head across her lips.
“Does Buffy want this?”
Her hazel eyes were glazed over with powerful lust as her lips opened in affirmation.
Angelus’ head dropped back as her hot mouth closed over the tip. He moaned in bliss as her talented tongue swirled about his head, before sliding further down. Oh, that feels so good. I could come right now. But, no. Not yet. Touching her face, he knew Buffy would recognize his silent desire. She immediately pulled back and waited.
This creature of mine truly has come along SO beautifully.
Angelus poured a generous amount of lubrication on his cock, wanting to make sure she would suffer no more discomfort upon entry than necessary. “Lay back,” he ordered in a husky voice while grabbing a pillow off the couch.
Complying with his command, Buffy tilted her hips up as he slid the small decorative cushion beneath.
“Pull your bra up over your tits,” he instructed as he intently studied the decadent picture Buffy made. Her short pleated aqua-colored skirt, white thigh-highs, rumpled shirt, exposed breasts and bare pussy inspired all manners of desire in a creature like himself.
Mine. No one is going to take her away from me. Not her calling, not her friends, not her mother…not even her priest. Buffy belongs to me. ME.
Yet, despite his arrogant thoughts, Angelus compulsively needed to hear her say the words.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You. Only you,” Buffy sighed as she shifted restlessly on the floor.
His dark eyes narrowed in masculine pride upon hearing her declaration.
“That’s right.”
Kneeling closer, Angelus tipped the bottle until a small stream of liquid coated the tiny, puckered hole. He closed the lid and set it down next to the moist crop handle. With very little ceremony he rubbed himself against the lubricated orifice and slowly pressed forward.
“Ah!”
Her tiny gasp was tinged with a note of pain. Angelus eased off and waited until she firmly wrapped her small hand around his base. He felt her angle his penis down slightly before releasing it. Moving once again, he carefully slipped past the tight ring of flesh.
Angelus glanced down and took in the expression of discomfort on Buffy’s face. Tossing her a rakish smile, he waited until she gave him a shaky smile in return. No matter how many times they had anal sex, the first few minutes visited pain on her.
It probably always would because of his size.
Firmly pressing ahead, he began a quick rhythm that forced her body to adjust. Long ago he learned that slow progress ensured prolonging the unpleasant, so this way was much like ripping a bandage off in one sure movement.
“Angelus,” she quietly moaned in equal parts enjoyment and distress. However, Buffy soon began moving her hips in response.
Sinking deeper and deeper with each thrust, the vampire happily burned with lust for the Slayer. Touching her was unlike anything else to be had in the world. No matter how many women he had, there was nothing like being with Buffy.
Yet, knowing this dirty fact rankled his black heart and provided almost as much torment as being away from her.
Almost.
“Goddamnit! Will you shut her the fuck up?” Angelus hissed to the blond vampire next to him. His annoyance only seemed to encourage the cold light of malicious amusement in Spike’s eyes.
“Dru has taken a fancy to being a song bird tonight, Scourge. Don’t see how it bleedin’ hurts you any.”
“Song bird? Hmph.”
“That’s right. Song bird.” Spike smiled beautifully when Druscilla glanced their way. “Besides,” he whispered, “aren’t you the one always tellin’ me to be a bit more cultured? Seems like you just want to give advice, but not take it.”
Clenching his jaw, Angelus impatiently rapped his fingers against the metal table. While Dru’s voice was hardly the cause of his fury, it definitely seemed to exacerbate it.
Although to be fair to his former mistress, her singing was quite lovely and fey.
‘But I don’t care. I want her to shut her mouth.’
Angelus felt tight and edgy, as if something was not right. He had been feeling it ever since he threw Buffy out over her little comment about Dru. However, tonight it was much worse.
‘Let her think I’m pissed because she insulted my childe. Like I give a shit,’ he thought sourly. ‘If she’s too damned dense to know it was her reference to good old Angel---well, I hope she rots.’
Druscilla’s last notes drew to a quivering, mournful end.
“Finally,” Angelus muttered to himself as he politely applauded---which was immediately drowned out by Spike’s enthusiastic response.
“Right on, luv,” he shouted before whistling and pounding the table with his fist. “Give us another song, Dru!”
Slanting the peroxide creature a disgruntled glance, the dark vampire heaved a loud sigh. This immediately drew a troubled frown on Druscilla’s pale face.
“Daddy?”
‘It’s not her fault.’ Forcing himself to smile graciously, Angelus nodded his head and murmured, “Continue, darling.”
The slender vampiress shook with joy at her sire’s approval. Taking an unneeded breath, she began singing a lively tune from another era.
Making sure his gaze never left his goddess, Spike quietly bit out, “No one asked you to fucking come, Prick. If you don’t want to be here---leave.”
Not bothering to spare the Brit a glare, Angelus answered smugly, “I go where I please, Spikey-boy. Or have you forgotten that?” ‘Dumb bastard.’
His words apparently hit a nerve.
“It’s rather easy to forget considering we haven’t seen you in weeks,” he spat. Turning his head slightly, Spike smirked and added, “Not that I’m complaining.”
“I bet you haven’t,” Angelus answered dryly. Druscilla’s voice faded away as his thoughts revisited the darkness swirling inside. ‘Something is not right.’ He silently sighed and attempted to bring reason to his paranoia. ‘I haven’t fed in eight nights. Maybe it’s having an affect.’
He could’ve easily taken someone off the street or gone to The Cavern, but somehow the options didn’t seem appealing. The only blood he craved was that of the Slayer’s, but he’d rather be staked than go to her first.
‘Buffy will break soon enough and come crawling to me. I just have to wait. I’ve gone without longer. Besides, it’s only been eight nights.’
Eight nights.
Angelus’ fingers tightened into a fist, as the dissention within grew wretchedly stronger. Something was not right.
“Prick!”
Barely biting back a growl, the dark vampire eyed Spike with an unblinking gaze and asked in a succinct voice, “Are you purposely gambling with your existence?”
Instead of retreating into crafty watchfulness, Spike growled, “She does all this for you and you don’t give a shit, do you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” It was only then did he realize Druscilla was silently standing in front of him. Two bloody tears were coursing down her face as her striking blue eyes held nothing but unmentionable sorrow.
“You don’t like my singing, Daddy? Is that why you stare into the shadows?”
Before he could answer, Spike snapped, “She’s happy to see you here, even though you’ll probably ending up abusing her like you always do. But she doesn’t care because you’re HERE.”
“Jealous, my boy?” Although Angelus’ voice was flippant, inside he couldn’t deny the spurt of guilt he felt regarding Dru. He had no idea how much time had passed since she had stopped singing. ‘Since when do I feel guilty about anything?’
However, something in his childe’s stricken face reminded him of Buffy. ‘Is this how I made her feel?’
“Jealous? That’s a fucking given, boyo.”
Turning his broken attention back to the present, Angelus sneered while thinking, ‘Ah, he’s broken out with the slurs on my heritage. He must really be pissed.’
“You don’t deserve her affection.” A muscle in Spike’s jaw twitched repeatedly as he kept his stare on Druscilla. “You don’t deserve anyone’s affection.”
While Angelus remained motionless, those coldly spoken words had an effect on him that could not be denied.
Suddenly, a shaft of indescribable pain pierced his dead heart. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back and attempted to control the torment pounding into every inch of his being. Just as quickly as it appeared, the pain left…leaving the impression of crazed desperation.
Druscilla let out a howl of demented glee as she bent over.
“What’s wrong, luv?” Spike cried in concern.
The petite vampire lifted her head while a maniacal smile curved her pale lips. “Like a broken bird falling out of its little cage,” she whispered in delight.
A chill crept over Angelus’ spine. ‘Buffy!’
Careful to keep his voice modulated, he asked, “What are you seeing, Dru?”
Turning her sharp gaze towards him, Druscilla answered, “Ooh, she runs but she won’t get far, will she, Daddy?” She leaned forward and carefully said, “Like a broken bird falling out of its little cage.”
A twisted chuckle broke free from Spike’s lips. “I get it, Pet and I take it Daddy does too.” He turned to the silent being beside him and pityingly remarked, “Slayer’s flying the coop, eh?”
The desire to smash the Brit vampire’s face in nearly took control of Angelus. ‘He’s not fucking worth it.’ Instead of ripping Spike’s head off, he gracefully stood up and walked over to Druscilla. With one finger he wiped off the crimson tears before brushing a kiss across her temple.
“Thank you, darling.”
Not bothering to see the reaction to his rare kindness, Angelus stalked out of the factory. ‘Buffy is FUCKING leaving me! Just when I thought I could trust her…no, fuck that. I can never trust her. She’s just a bitch.’ The few vampires loitering around the dank building quickly fled as they felt his deadly rage radiating in suffocating force.
‘Get control. At this rate I’ll rip her heart to shreds as soon as I see her.’
Angelus commanded his body to carefully open the door of his SUV, instead of tearing it from the hinges. Settling himself in the seat, he calmly turned on the engine. With equal composure, he drove towards Revello Drive.
However, when his sharp gaze saw Buffy’s tiny figure throwing a suitcase in the backseat, all calm momentarily disintegrated.
Tightening his grip on the wheel, he pressed his foot down and came to a screeching stop right behind the Cherokee. When Angelus heard her engine shut off, he felt a sense of sanity return. ‘She saw me. Good.’
He closed his eyes briefly before composing his face into a mask of easy arrogance. Sliding out from the Rodeo, he couldn’t stop himself from putting a little extra force into closing the door.
When he approached the driver’s side, he could clearly see the tenseness in Buffy’s pale face. Although he knew what she had planned on doing, seeing the reality of it made him feel hollow.
‘I’m not letting her go. I don't care how much she begs and pleads for freedom. It's not going to happen.’
Keeping his black gaze trained solely on his erring mistress, he lifted his hand up and tapped the window. When she ignored his gesture, Angelus instantly gave into his awesome rage. The glass crackled beneath his fist yet it wasn’t enough.
“Hmm, well what do we have here? A suitcase full of clothes I take it?” When she didn’t answer, he forced his voice to purr, “Going somewhere, lover?” when all he wanted to do was shout, “This is how you betray me?!”
It was so easy to pretend that Angelus held all the power of emotions in this intrigue.
But it wasn’t true.
“Get out of the car.” ‘Get out, Buff. Just do it and everything will be okay.’ His indolent stare bored into her, but she wouldn't look at him.
Angelus refused to acknowledge the panic twisting inside his gut. Instead he opened the door while repeating, “Get out of the car, Buff.” ‘Maybe she’s just scared. I’ll make it easier for her.’ The seconds ticked by while she kept her gaze trained ahead. ‘C’mon, Baby. Just do it and we’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.’
And then the unthinkable happened.
“No.”
Before Angelus could give conscious thought to his actions, he had yanked Buffy out of the vehicle. The black fog of rage lifted for a moment when he realized his claws were digging into her arms. ‘Why are you making me do this? Why?’ However, instead of docilely begging for his forgiveness, she started fighting him.
Hatred consumed Angelus as he forced Buffy into his SUV. ‘I’ve been too soft on her. I should’ve punished the whore immediately instead of trying to give her a way out.’ His hard eyes narrowed in promised retribution. ‘I’ll fix my error soon.’
Throwing her into the front seat, he felt his mouth drop open in shock when she flung open the passenger door and sped off into the night. For several seconds he stood there trying to process what had just happened. ‘She ran away from me. I just had her, but she’s gone. How did we get to this point?’
Angelus experienced a shaft of numbness spreading throughout his body. Stepping away from the door, he felt lost. Although a part of him was screaming, ‘Go and bring her ass back here!’ he didn’t feel the energy to obey. He tilted his head back and distantly acknowledged that the night sky was beautiful. Several minutes passed while he continued to look upwards. ‘How can it look so exquisite when everything beneath is Hell?’
Finally, he tore his gaze away and tiredly glanced at the empty house. ‘I could smell the tears on Buffy, but I didn’t think about it then. She was crying. Was it because of me, little Slayer?’
Angelus let out a sigh and walked back to the Rodeo. Coming around the passenger side, he closed the door before returning to the driver’s seat. ‘Maybe I should give her some space. Maybe…’
However, the darker side of his instincts couldn’t let it go.
‘If I don’t finish this tonight, Buffy will have beat me. I can’t lose this game. I won’t lose.’
Unfamiliar indecision relentlessly gnawed away at Angelus as he sat in his vehicle. He closed his eyes and dropped his head onto the wheel. ‘Is winning so important? Maybe I should let it all go.’ For the first time in weeks, Angelus wondered if perhaps he should let their twisted affair end.
‘I hate the way I feel around her. I hate the insecurity, the fear…EVERYTHING. I’ll never admit it to anyone, hardly to myself, but I feel so helpless around Buffy. And so I bully her, she submits, but in the end…I just don’t know. I hate the obsession consuming me. Nothing feels right anymore. Nothing.’
The imagined thoughts of liberation played in his frayed mind. If Buffy didn’t possess the center of his fixation, then he could be free to pursue his selfishness without pause. He would be able to feed without discrimination and ease the sexual hunger without suffering a sense of dissatisfaction.
‘If she leaves Sunnydale, things will become right for me. I know they will. She wants to go. Maybe I should just let her. We’ll both be free then.’
Lifting his head up, Angelus resolutely turned on the Rodeo and backed out the drive. ‘It’s just my stupid, wretched fear talking. If I feel afraid, then that’s all the more reason to continue. I don’t run away from what I fear. I won’t start now.’
Within minutes he turned off the engine again and waited. The night was quiet and the small gas station deserted. His dark eyes were fixated on the only road leading out of Sunnydale. Soon a green Cherokee came tearing down the ashphault, barely slowing down to take a sharp turn.
Angelus’ eyes flashed golden as he started after Buffy. ‘She’s insane if she thinks that she just snuck out of here.’ For hours he followed her, making sure to keep his distance and speed non-threatening. It occurred to him that she might decide to drive on into the morning, but he would be safe because the windows in the Rodeo were outfitted with the same type of glass as his penthouse and her home.
A cold smile of satisfaction lifted his lips as his sharp vision saw her turn off the highway and into a hotel parking lot. ‘Soon you’ll learn who is master here and who is not.’ He took his time to reach the near-empty lodge. Parking close to Buffy, he gracefully stalked towards the door. When he saw his faithless bitch, he could feel his vision darkening in fury.
The clerk stopped in the midst of explaining to Buffy about her company’s ID policy to let him in. Avidly watching his mistress’ face, he knew when she noticed his presence. A wicked howl erupted inside his mind at her look of fear.
“Thanks for your help. I’ll just keep going. Goodnight.”
Fury exploded in his being upon hearing her words. ‘Does she think I came all this way just so she can leave? Who the fuck does she think she’s dealing with?’
“You don’t see anything in the lobby right now. We’ve left to go to another hotel and there’s no one here.” As soon as the clerk turned around, he pinned Buffy with a stare designed to have her quailing. “You pulled off too soon, Baby. You should’ve waited until daybreak.”
However, his mistress disappointed him once again.
“You just don’t get the hint, do you?”
‘I’m going to make you eat those words.’ When she took several steps back, Angelus found himself mildly appeased. ‘If she fears me, she’s easier to control.’
“Buffy, I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen carefully.” Looking down into her defiant face, he knew his control was hanging on by a proverbial thread. The muscles in his jaw tightened repeatedly as he coldly warned, “If you ever try to leave me again, I’ll break you. I’ll break into a thousand pieces and nothing anyone does will EVER put you back together again. Do you understand me?” ‘I mean every word I say, Baby. Don’t make me prove it to you.’
As she stood there silently, Angelus started to feel a thrill of victory. ‘Good. She understands.’ Her scream of rage eloquently disproved his thoughts.
“Who the hell do you think you are?!”
‘How dare she?’
“You LEFT me for eight nights! EIGHT FUCKING NIGHTS!”
Angelus heard the suitcase hit the floor before her small hands pushed into his body with little affection. ‘What are you talking about, Bitch? You’re the one who left, not me!’
“You don’t have ANY right to threaten me about anything!”
‘Wrong.’ He grabbed a hold of her wrists and pulled her to him. Feeling the contact between them, Angelus experienced a primal sense of satisfaction.
“Have you lost your damned mind?!”
“Yes! Yes, I have, LOVER.”
Angelus barely bit back an enraged growl when she pulled away from his touch. However, he didn’t have time to reply before Buffy hissed, “You toss me aside whenever you feel like it, don’t you, LOVER? Just because I said something against your precious, insane bitch!”
‘Dru? You still don’t get it! You fucking think all this is about Dru?’ “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” ‘You deserve to suffer for being stupid, Buff. How can you even think she’s above you?’
“I am. So what? Why wouldn’t I be jealous? I LOVE YOU, you worthless, dead bastard!”
Warmth spurted inside his being, even though Buffy’s words were spoken more as a curse versus a beautiful declaration. ‘This may be the second time tonight that my jealousy card didn’t work, but I don’t care if it gets me this.’
“But that isn’t enough, is it? So why are you even here?”
‘Why do you think, lover? Why would someone like me risk the daylight? It’s for you, Buff.’ “Isn’t it obvious? To bring my disobedient bitch to heel.”
“Bitch, huh? I’m no better than a dog to you, am I?”
‘I never said anything about you being a dog. I said “bitch.” There’s a difference.’
“If I’m a dog, then what is she, Angelus?”
‘Why does she keep bringing up Dru? Fine then. She’ll keep her useless questions to herself after this.’ “Dru is a little piece of beautiful history, that’s what she is, Slayer. She was someone worth turning, worth remembering.”
Buffy, apparently, didn’t react how he expected. Instead of crying she emotionlessly stated, “If you want her so badly, why don’t you go trotting after her like the sorry dog you are?”
Angelus suddenly grew impatient and angry with Buffy’s refusal to see what their situation was really about. “Because unlike someone I know, she’s sitting at home, faithfully waiting.” ‘Now be quiet and let’s go.’
“Home, huh? Well, don’t you think you should get back before she decides to go throw herself off a cliff or something? I mean that is what your type of women seem to want to do.”
He heard the pain in her voice, but it was quickly drowned out by the lazy mockery.
“Oh that’s right. I forgot. That wasn’t a woman flipping out because you left her---that was someone who flipped out because you WOULDN’T leave.”
‘You can’t do this to me. I know you are not about to say it.’ Keeping his mean gaze locked on her he was forced to watch as she began walking past him.
“Take the hint, Angelus.”
‘FUCK THIS!’ He grabbed her arm again before applying brutal pressure. “How dare you speak to me in that tone, you insolent little girl?” ‘I’m losing control. She’s going to leave me. I know it. Don’t say it, Buffy. Don’t.’
“How dare I? How dare I? I’ll tell you how far I dare---you took that bitch’s side over me! You punished ME because of HER. You threw me out and didn’t want to see me at all! Well, now this time I don’t want to see YOU.”
‘I didn’t take her side! I punished you because you brought up Angel’s name!’ However, the words screaming in his head stayed locked inside.
“I don’t want to hear you, feel you, or even talk to you! Got that?”
“Well, that’s just too fucking bad, Buff. Come on---we’re leaving.” His words, heartless enough, made a valiant lie of his panic. ‘Don’t say that. You can’t mean it. I know you love me. I know you wouldn’t leave me. This can’t be right.’
He watched as she closed her eyes and an expression of unbearable pain crossed her face. In that moment, he felt it echo inside of himself, but he wasn’t sure if it his or hers. ‘Don’t leave me. Not now. Not when I…’
Before he could predict it, Buffy yanked her cross out and shoved it in his face. He loathed his instinctual reaction, but he helpless against recoiling from the small piece of metal. ‘Damn you! Why are you ruining this for us?’
“It’s over, Angelus. It’s fucking over. I’m sick of you and the way you treat me. Your heart belongs to Druscilla and that’s where it belongs.”
He could feel her walking towards the door and wanted to yell in rage because the cross’ power still had him in its grip. ‘She said its over and it can’t be. I don’t believe her. She’s just mad at me. Soon she’ll start crying, I’ll open my arms, and she’ll run to them. I know she will.’
“Don’t think I’m being noble and giving you up for her because I love you and want to see you happy. I’m ending it because I won’t be a replacement for another girl. No matter what I’ve done for you, I won’t do that.”
It was in that moment that he realized Buffy had no intention of seeking his touch or his comfort. She was going to leave him. Forever. ‘I hate her! I FUCKING HATE HER!’ Overcoming his vampiric nature, Angelus hurled his body towards her and sent them both crashing through the glass door. Although a distant part of him felt ashamed at his loss of control, he was too far gone to stop.
“Fuck you, Buffy Summers!” ‘Fuck you for having this power over me!’
When she started struggling against him, he gave into his spurned rage. Grabbing hold of her head, Angelus smashed it against the concrete without remorse. Buffy’s small cry of pain couldn’t reach whatever reason he had left.
“Get off of me!”
Some part of Angelus’ brain recognized the sensation in his left side as a suitcase being slammed into him, but it was her furious voice that drove his next actions.
‘Never. I’m never going to let you make me feel this way again.’ His face instantly morphed as his fangs lengthened with deadly precision. As a result, small patch of skin near Buffy’s throat suffered Angelus’ irrational method of communication. While the rich blood flowed into him, he clutched her tighter and tighter, almost as if he were trying to consume her body and soul.
Finally he withdrew his fangs and gazed down into her weakened eyes. What he saw in those hazel depths shook him to the core. ‘She looks so sad, so empty. Like I just stole the light out of her life. I don’t want her looking that way. Doesn’t she see that this is her fault? Can’t she understand that I didn’t want it to be like this?’
“So this is what it comes to, huh, Angelus?”
‘What am I thinking? I should want her misery and I do, but not like this.’
“Finish it.”
Unwanted nightmarish specters rose in Angelus’ mind, pointing icy fingers of blame upon him.
“Angelus?”
“Close your eyes, my love.”
‘No, goddamnit! I won’t let that happen!’ Leaning down he didn’t allow the rage consuming his broken sanity to slip through. Instead he hatefully whispered, “You wish.”
Without another word exchanged between them, Angelus scooped her slight form up and quickly made the decision to take the Cherokee. ‘I’ll have someone pick up the Rodeo for me later in the morning.’ As he placed his mistress in her seat, he couldn’t help but look at the evidence of her neck’s wound.
A wound inflicted by himself.
Tenderly brushing away a few strands of hair, he could feel Buffy’s stare burning an accusatory hole into his profile. For the first time ever, Angelus felt truly ashamed of himself. ‘She’s mine and I abused her like this. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have done it to you, darling.’
Instantly he reversed his mentality and tried to find a way to displace the blame. ‘But don’t you see? You brought it on yourself.’ Before he realized it, Angelus spoke the last words careening in his mind out loud. “You brought it on yourself.”
Yet, the words rang hollow.
‘I need to get us out of here before the peasants decide to call the police.’ Refusing to glance in Buffy’s direction, he started the engine, drove out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
Soon he heard the sound of chattering teeth. Even though it didn’t bother him, Angelus acknowledged that the wind coming in through the broken window was brutal. He turned on the heater full-blast and made sure the vents were all angled in Buffy’s direction but he realized it wasn’t enough. ‘She lost too much blood,’ he clinically thought, while neatly extricating himself as the cause by using the word “lost.”
Seeing a sign for a hotel, he quickly made the decision to pull off. As he put the gearshift into park, Angelus debated on whether he should leave Buffy. ‘I don’t think she’ll run. But I don’t know. Maybe she’s faking how weak she is just so I’ll leave. I should bring her with me.’ Taking a closer look at her pale face, he found himself asking, “If I leave the heat on, can I trust you to behave?”
When all she did was nod, Angelus felt something akin to sickness roil in his gut. ‘She looks so damned weak, so beaten. Why does it make me feel so…so what?’ He hated his uncertainty and once again he wondered if his actions towards her was worth it. ‘If all I live to do is make you miserable…’
He couldn’t bring himself to finish his thoughts. “I’ll be back.” Angelus waited for a reaction but all he received was the soft sound of her breathing. Leaning down, he kissed the wound on her neck in mute apology. ‘I’ll make you smile for me, Buffy. I’ll make you so happy that all this will seem like a nightmare. I know I can do it. I won't let anyone come between us again.’
Angelus impatiently went through process of checking in, however, the clerk was only the recipient of pleasant smiles and a carefully modulated voice.
“Do you have any rooms on the first floor by the exit?” he asked softly. “I really don’t want to have to carry my bags too far if I can help it.”
“I understand, sir. I’m pretty sure we do, but let me double-check.” A moment passed before a small sound of victory echoed in the empty lobby. “Ah-hah! We sure do.”
“Good.” Angelus discreetly looked over his shoulder and saw Buffy still slumped in her seat.
The desk clerk happened to catch sight of her as well and felt the need to make a friendly comment.
“It looks like she’s knocked out for the night.”
The vampire slid his black gaze back to the older man and felt a surge of irrational anger rise before it settled down. ‘I can’t lose my head again. That’s how I got in this damned situation in the first place.’ “Yeah, she’s pretty tired. By the way, that room has a king-size bed, right?”
“Yes, it does.” While typing the information from Angelus’ drivers license into the computer, the clerk asked, “Can I get the name of your guest please?”
“Actually she’s not my guest, but my wife,” he unnecessarily pointed out. “Her name is Buffy Gryphon.” He hadn’t meant to lie, but in that moment Angelus felt a deep sense of satisfaction. ‘She belongs to me more than Fiona would’ve.’ Instantly he acknowledged that it Fiona was never his, but rather Angel’s. ‘No matter. Buffy is mine. Mistress, whore, slave, wife---those are all her titles.’
“Alright, Mr. Gryphon. Here’s your license, credit card, key, and receipt. If you’d like to have breakfast served, please fill out the menu in your room and place it on the door by 6:00 am. Enjoy your stay and if there’s anything you need, please feel free to call the front desk.”
“Thank you, Mike. Have a good night.” Angelus gracefully strolled back to the Rodeo and slid into the seat. Briefly he touched Buffy’s face and frowned when she didn’t react to him. Putting the SUV in drive, he quickly found the other side of the building and parked as close as he could to the door. Exiting the car, he opened the passenger side and gently whispered, “Buffy.”
Her eyes stayed close.
“Buffy…Baby…get up. We’re here.”
She remained slumped in the seat, unconscious and unable to hear anything.
‘Shit!’ Making sure he had hold of the keys, Angelus carefully lifted Buffy out and cradled her against his chest. ‘She’s so damned cold.’ “Come on, Baby. Just a little bit longer,” he murmured as encouragement. ‘What if I took too much?’
He fumbled with the card and had to slide it in twice before the door unlocked. Quickly he scanned the little plaques on the wall until he found the right number. ‘Shit, shit, shit. I hate this card. Hurry up!’ He barely registered the click before flinging the door open.
Gently placing his girl on the bed, Angelus strode into the bathroom, flipped the switch on and was relieved to see that the tub was comfortably large enough for two. He quickly turned the taps on, making sure it was warm enough for the upcoming task.
Impatiently he paced the floor as he willed the water to shoot out faster. He could’ve gone into the darkened room to wait, but he felt a sense of trepidation that he wasn’t ready to face. ‘What if I took too much? No! I’d know. She’s not dying.’
“Safe. You’re safe.”
“You came. They told me you wouldn’t.”
“Safe.”
“I’m sorry that I believed them.”
“I can’t risk you anymore.”
“Angelus?”
“Close your eyes, my love.”
He slammed his fist against his leg and hissed, “It’s not the same! That’s just a fucking nightmare. It’s not real. I just went too far in my discipline, that’s all.” Angrily shedding his clothes, Angelus left them in an uncharacteristic messy pile on the floor. Stalking out into the room, he was determined to face his fear and prove it was ungrounded. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.”
However, when he saw Buffy’s pale and fragile-looking continence, he suffered another moment of disquiet. Sitting down on the bed, he pulled her body onto his lap, and held her. “Wake up, m’darling. Prove what a stubborn bitch I know ye to be,” Angelus crooned, not realizing he had slipped into brogue. “Yor sooch a fiery lass, aren’t ye? Well, come on and show me yer fey eyes and bonny smile.”
As the minutes rolled by he worriedly noted that her skin had yet to lose its iciness.
Then he realized the obvious.
Buffy would NEVER receive warmth from him because he was DEAD.
Carefully with his movements, Angelus quickly stripped her limp body of clothes before carrying her into the bathroom. Stepping into the whirlpool tub, he sat down and gently held Buffy against his chest.
Closing his eyes he thought back on every wretched step that had brought them to this point and cringed.
When she had foolishly babbled, “How did you stand Druscilla enough to turn her? It’s so annoying to hear her talk! Does she ever say anything without, ‘Ooh the stars are whispering my name?’ or something equally annoying? If you ask me, Spike went through too much trouble trying to drain Angel to save her,” he should’ve just shrugged it off. Or, put his cock in her mouth. He shouldn’t have given into his insecurity.
Instead, he brought the world down and nearly destroyed the one girl who consumed him night and day.
‘What if I lose her because of this? What if this is how it ends?’
The mere thought of Buffy dying made Angelus feel sick. Dropping his head against hers he whispered, “I don’t live at the Factory. I rarely even go there. I spend all my free nights with you. I don’t paint her---I paint you. I don’t buy gifts for her---I buy them for you. The only one who wears my chains is you. The only body to sleep in my bed is yours. Why can’t you see that?”
Within seconds he heard the most beautiful voice in the entire world whisper his name. “Angelus?”
The relief coursing through his limbs would’ve made him collapse in normal circumstances. It took every bit of his inflexible will to keep from crushing Buffy.
“You brought me back to life. You can’t ever leave me.” Burying his face into her neck he inaudibly whispered, “Don’t leave me.” ‘Not like this. Not in death.’
Later Angelus had been able to dismiss his weakness as a result of not feeding for eight nights. And maybe it was true.
Maybe.
Angelus wanted to deny those memories whispering their poisoned weakness in his ears, but he couldn’t. So instead he set out to make new memories.
“Please…”
He closed his eyes in bliss as he felt Buffy’s legs climb up his hips. They seemed to whisper, All I want is to please you. You. Only you.
Concentrating on the warm flesh wrapped around him, the vampire could hardly contain the soft growls building in this throat. He allowed his cool hands to glide down to her naked bottom. Digging his fingers into the firm flesh, Angelus raised Buffy higher. He looked down on her body through heavy-lidded eyes and smirked.
She was so incredibly aroused if the expression on her flushed face was any indication.
As Buffy should be.
He felt her little hands reach out to grip his forearms and it made his body sing.
“Lovely…”
“Harder,” she commanded with an edge of desperation.
Tossing his mistress a rakish smile, Angelus pulled out of her lithe body and flipped her over. Quickly entering her again, he bent down and feathered kisses across Buffy’s shoulders. Increasing the force behind his thrusts, Angelus wickedly thought, A woman can take a man into her pussy and easily forget him. But she NEVER forgets a man who takes her ass. EVER.
As if to confirm his depraved belief, Buffy threw her head back and violently shuddered with pleasure before panting his name.
“Angelus…Angelus…Angelus.”
Her lover nodded in approval as he pulled his hips back.
Pleasure. It’s the only thing real besides hate. It’s the only thing I’ll ever need to feel alive. With extreme deliberation, Angelus sank quickly into her tight passage. Attuning his every sense on the breathy pants tearing from her throat, unexpected laughter bubbled in his. I’m buggering the Slayer and she fucking loves it.
His voice, dark and full of poisoned triumph, flowed softly into her ear as he bent down.
“Do you like this, lover?”
In answer, Buffy lowered her arms and rested her head against them. “Oh…yessss,” she replied in a drawn-out hiss.
In the distance, a phone rang several times, but Angelus hardly cared as the world disappeared into the vibrant colors of lust and misleading contentment. Sinking deeper into a self-woven web of destructive habit, Angelus dug his fingers into Buffy’s hips and grunted, “Tell me you love me.”
I'll never tire of hearing her say it.
“I…I…oh…I…ah…love…you.”
Being with her feels like home. It makes me believe in forever.
A twisted smile of what could be interpreted as happiness tugged at the corners of his hard mouth. Inhaling her rich scent deep within his dead lungs, the vampire rose up from the burning ashes of their sin and slipped out from her exquisitely tight passage.
Without thought to teasing, Angelus seized Buffy’s small wrist and lifted her to her feet. Finding the nearest armchair, he sat down and brought her small body over to straddle him. In a soft voice, he directed her to lean forward before slipping a finger into her. Still wet. Good.
Angelus vaguely realized the phone stopped ringing. Despite the distance separating them, he could hear Joyce’s soft voice speak into the receiver as well as the voice which answered in return. Perfect. He let out a sigh of irritation when his girl drew his darkening attention back to her.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder and gave him a sultry smile that nearly made him forget how much he hated her at times.
“What are you waiting for, lover?”
His black eyes flashed golden as he smiled in return. “I wonder if all tutors have the perfect fortune to instruct such impatient pupils,” he murmured. Fuck it. Whatever happens---happens. Besides, this might turn into another lesson to rid my Buffy of useless modesty.
“If they look and taste like you---then I can see why.”
“Cheeky girl,” he admonished while guiding her back on his erect cock. At the sound of her indrawn breath, Angelus arched his hips up while slamming hers down.
“Ah!”
Buffy was so lost in passion that she failed to recognize the whisper of footsteps heading towards them.
Imagining what was about to occur, Angelus began to doubt his course of action.
FUCK HER AND HER FUCKING HUMAN MORALS!
A frown creased his pale brow as he shook his head. Not now. Once again, it seemed like the familiar voice came from within, but…
IF SHE WANTS TO BE A DEMON’S WHORE, THEN LET HER EXPERIENCE A WHORE’S EXISTENCE!
The vampire closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of Buffy’s heartbeat. It’s my demon side, that’s all. Maybe if I feed, it’ll subside.
SHE DESERVES TO BE SHAMED FOR THINKING TO USE SEX AS A WAY OF CONTROL!
Without noticing his actions, Angelus brought his mouth to her shoulder and nuzzled the soft white fabric. Buffy’s not controlling me with sex. If anything I’m controlling her. So where is this coming from?
DON’T BE STUPID!
The darkness inside is eating away at me. For the first time, being with Buffy isn’t enough. It’s not enough! Angelus wrapped his arms around her waist and felt familiar fear.
IDIOT! WEAK, WORTHLESS EXCUSE OF A VAMPIRE! PUSSY!
No. His handsome face instantly morphed to that of a monster in response to the heavy derision found within the mental voice. I’m NOT weak. Without preamble, he sank his fangs deep into the fragile flesh beneath.
“AH---”
Angelus’ hand flew up to smother her instinctual scream of pain. Greedily gulping the delicious blood spurting into his mouth, he knew there would be no scent of orgasm this time. His bite was too vicious. It was one meant to brutalize, not seduce.
However, even though Buffy’s tears flowed over his hand, her hips still continued to churn furiously.
GOOD.
After that one word, the wretched voice died.
In one moment of sanity---or maybe insanity as it were---Angelus solemnly wondered, Why do you allow this? You’re the Slayer yet you let me treat you like a whore. Why do I still feel the need to do it?
Glancing up, he caught sight of Joyce’s shadow. Narrowing his eyes, he quickly commanded an illusion to appear. Briefly he suffered a flicker of doubt at his success. Damned priest! he silently cursed to himself as he waited for his mistress’ mother to appear. Ever since that bastard appeared, I’ve doubted myself more and more.
“Buffy?”
His lover gasped behind his hand and a violent trembling took control of her slender body. Angelus released her mouth while continuing to feed. There was no other choice but to sit and wait. It would either be a complete success or a pitiful failure, but like so many other things in life, Angelus and his Buffy would have to wait and see.
“Baby?”
Toweling his hair, he brusquely answered, “What?” while striding towards his enormous dressing room. He had just experienced the foreign event of showering alone and it had done nothing to sweeten his already sour mood.
“Don’t be like that,” Buffy charmingly pouted as she sat cross-legged on the bed with remote in hand.
Even though she had given him a fantastic blowjob before his shower, Angelus still couldn’t shake off his feelings of suppressed rage. Perhaps it had something to do with him not fucking Buffy---other than her mouth.
The fact that it had been because of his contrary wishes no longer mattered.
Angelus paused by the new television and arched a brow.
“Like what?”
“You know---all frowny and rude.”
He let out a short bark of laughter in return. “Rude? I? I don’t think so, Baby,” he sarcastically drawled.
“What?” she asked with a tilt of her head.
Although a part of him shouted that he should just keep his feelings private, Angelus ignored reason and snapped, “You still smell like spunk, lover.”
A flush of embarrassment darkened her cheeks. However, she raised her chin in subtle challenge and murmured, “I didn’t know that it offended you.”
“That’s not what offends me.” ‘Shit! Don’t say it.’
Buffy innocently asked, “Then what is it?”
‘Oh…damnit.’ Crossing his arms over his naked torso, Angelus accused, “Ever since I got you this devil’s box, all you want to do is watch Friendly, Dodson’s Creek, and whatever the hell else strikes your fancy.”
“But---”
Cutting her off, he raised his voice in ire and complained, “We hardly fuck more than twice a night because of it.”
“But, Angelus---”
Completely immersed in his self-righteous rampage he shouted, “I had to take a shower alone because you couldn’t tear yourself away from E!”
Instead of rushing to soothe his indignation, Buffy giggled in amusement---much to his aggravation.
“What’s so damned funny?” he demanded in a dangerous hiss.
Dropping the remote, she raised her hands and covered her mouth as laughter continued to break free from her lips.
“What the hell is your problem, Bitch?”
Instead of lifting remorseful orbs up at him, the corners of her clear eyes crinkled with mischievous mirth.
The threatening growl echoing throughout the cavernous room eventually seemed to capture her attention and dampen her glee.
“I’m sorry, Angelus. It’s just…they’re called…Friends and Dawson’s Creek.”
Studying her pretty face with narrowed eyes, Angelus could see the playful condescending expression she sought to suppress. ‘I see. She thinks I’m just a doddering old man in the body of a young one just because I didn’t remember the names of her stupid shows.’
Trailing those thoughts, a seldom-heard voice of honesty whispered inside his head, “But you are old. In fact, you know you shouldn’t be here at all.” The truth rankled and frayed his already over-sensitive nerves. ‘If it wasn’t for that Triumvirate of Fiona, Michael, and Darla, I would’ve been dust in the wind a long time ago. Maybe I wouldn’t have minded. Perhaps, I would’ve found someone else to wed, someone who would’ve given me strong sons and maybe a daughter. A daughter with hazel eyes and the sweetest smile ever to grace my life.’
He instantly bit back a growl at the direction his nauseous thoughts had taken. Adopting an air of boredom, Angelus shrugged and breathed, “Whatever. They’re both lame.”
“Are not!”
‘That life wasn’t mine---it was Angel’s. I merely stole his body just like I stole Buffy’s. I would’ve never had children or seen the sun. I would’ve just been lost in the darkness of nothingness.’
“Whatever,” he snorted with a definitive roll of his dark eyes, unsure if he was solely addressing the spoken.
His dismissive tone finally penetrated Buffy’s amusement, leaving instant remorse in its place.
“Angelus?” she called out in a softly pleading voice.
‘Good,’ he thought nastily. ‘I hate hearing her laughter anyways.’ Turning away from the television, he stalked into his dressing closet and rummaged though the numerous drawers for a pair of lounging pants. Immediately, Buffy’s light scent wafted throughout the enclosed space.
“Angelus?”
“Hmm?” he answered in a detached manner as he pulled out the desired item.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Without looking at her, he dropped the towel, allowing it to fall onto the highly polished floor before presenting Buffy a view of his naked backside.
“Umm, for laughing at you,” she murmured in a pitifully awkward tone.
“Apologies aren’t necessary,” he answered quietly while turning around. The small smile of relief vanished from her face when he added, “What makes you think I care about your opinion of me, anyways?”
The cutting words had the effect of one of his brutal slaps. Buffy’s eyes welled with tears as she glanced away. For a brief moment, as he stared down at her bowed head, Angelus experienced a twisting sensation, which could’ve passed as guilt, before it vanished. ‘Her feelings mean nothing. Besides, she’ll get over it soon enough. Her little human heart makes sure of that.’
Suddenly the rage overtook him again, tormenting him with the humiliating knowledge that he had no control over himself anymore. The proof lay in the fact that his whore’s feelings had the power to sway him, even if slightly. The sick reality was that the more he tried to deny the poison festering inside his dead soul, the more toxic it became.
In front of Buffy, he attempted to pretend that his thoughts weren’t flaying him alive and so Angelus’ cruelty increasingly became less a trapping of pleasure, but more a beast of necessity. “Nothing to say, my darling?” he murmured in false conversation.
“You’re angry with me,” she whispered, giving audible life to the obvious.
‘I’m not angry with you! I HATE you! I hate your humanity! I hate it that you’re so damned sensitive! I hate that it takes so little to make you laugh…to make you cry! I HATE YOU!’
Before he could betray his thoughts, Buffy made the needed mistake of saying, “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m sorry.”
‘She thinks I’m like her. That I can feel sorrow in the way she does. Idiot!’ Casually brushing past her, he mockingly replied, “You think too highly of yourself, Sweetie.” His words did everything to hide his ire---or so he thought.
“Please don’t.”
Angelus stopped at the sound of anguish darkening each uttered syllable, unable to move as if it were his own.
“You have a right to be angry with me.” Buffy approached him cautiously, almost as if she expected him to viciously turn on her. When he remained in the same position, she laid her hand on his forearm and rested her head against his naked back. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I’m sorry.”
‘She’s groveling for my dubious affection again. How am I worth even one of her tears?’
“Please forgive me.”
Listening to the sad sound of her heartbeat, the vampire lost control of his scornful façade and exploded.
“Don’t you have a backbone for fuck’s sake? What the hell is wrong with you?” Roughly shaking her hand off, Angelus whirled around and shouted into her stricken face, “You’re always mewling about how sorry you are, but what are you sorry for? Does it matter at all anymore?”
Buffy stumbled back, as if his cruel words had robbed her of the ability to stand without assistance, before collapsing on the floor. Tears spilled from her tortured eyes while her mouth worked to say something, anything, but in the end only soft sobs found substance.
Instead of finding satisfaction with his mistress’ misery, Angelus suffered the fires of his irrational fury igniting into an emotionally lethal bonfire.
“I can’t believe that this is the mighty Slayer everyone fears so much,” he sneered as he gazed down at her from his intimidating height. “You’re such a damned baby. All you do is fucking cry if I even look at you the wrong way.” Impatiently he waited for Buffy to say something in her own defense, but only the jagged gasps of her breathing spoke to him.
“I spend most of my time wondering why I even bother to screw you in the first place. If you’re not crying, you’re wheedling for me to buy you something.” Angelus knew his last statement to be a blatant lie, but he spoke it with the insane desire to see Buffy rise up and yell, hit, or throw something at him---anything to stop her tears.
Instead, she lifted her small hands and covered her face in a desperate attempt to hide her shame.
Storming into the dressing room, Angelus yanked open a drawer from the large bureau. With little thought to preserving the wood, he tore it free and stalked back out with it in both hands.
‘The bitch deserves her pain. If she’s too weak to tear me a new one---then fuck her.’
Holding the drawer aloft, he dumped the contents onto the floor and hissed, “Look at all the damned clothes I’ve bought you. Why do I do it? Just to keep you from whining about how slaying ruins your shirts, or how you’re running out of underwear because I keep tearing them, or any of a thousand stupid reasons you have!”
Buffy barely lifted her head as she continued to weep.
Infuriated by her actions, Angelus kicked the motley pile and watched as several pieces landed on her small form. “They better serve the trash than YOU.” When she pitifully clutched a pair of pajamas, the dark vampire let out a maddened roar of fury.
“ARGH! You’re so fucking worthless!” Tearing across the room, he stormed into the bathroom before quickly returning with an armful of feminine treasures. Angelus stopped by the scattered pile and unceremoniously released a shower of shampoo, conditioner, toothbrush, toothpaste, gel, powders, perfume, brushes, and razors.
The perfume shattered instantly. A heavy cloud of pure scent suffocated his nose, yet Angelus was too maddened by Buffy’s continuous crying to care.
Staring at her bowed head with an evil eye, he silently demanded, ‘Come on, Bitch! Remind me of who we really are! I’m a vampire and you’re a slayer---not husband and wife! Not human---just dirty abominations! Come on! Show me the darkness!’
Minutes flew by, never to return again, as Buffy continued to sob.
“Don’t you having any fucking thing to say?” he finally growled. “Say something, Bitch!” Upon his command, she obeyed him. It was a whisper, but he heard it clearly.
“I’m sorry.”
Infuriated by her pathetic answer, Angelus hauled up Buffy by the arm, ruthlessly ignoring her whimper of pain, and flung her onto the bed. ‘I WILL get a rise out of you.’
Crouching over her, he began shredding the costly linens with his claws. In spite of her cries of alarm, he grabbed several pillows and deliberately gutted them. Countless feathers floated in the air above as he gripped her chin in his hand and spat, “You’re pitiful! You don’t have any pride at all, do you? It makes me sick.”
“Please---”
The unforgiving pressure of his other hand cut off Buffy’s pleas. “I can’t stand such weakness! You’re disgusting!”
Her small hand came up to pry his grip away when he said the fateful words.
“Why the fuck isn’t there a prophecy out there with your name on it? The world would be SO much better off without a useless Slayer like you, Buff. Maybe then I’d finally have a challenge!”
A torrent of agony seized Angelus’ dead heart even as Buffy’s fingers effortlessly broke his. Her leg shot up and kicked him squarely in the groin, but that pain was nothing to one invading his very mind.
‘That bitch’s grief is possessing me! Oh, fuck!’
Buffy violently shoved him off and sent him crashing into the headboard, instantly splintering the heavy wood. If he were human, Angelus would’ve been dead. Instead he was conscious of every bit of emotional and physical agony pulsing through him.
Suffering the needed pain of regeneration, he stared at his mistress through a veil of disheveled hair. Her face was completely white, her mouth pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Her eyes, always so expressive with emotion, were nearly swallowed by dilated pupils brimming with betrayal.
“How dare you say that to me?” Buffy’s voice was hoarse, brittle, and barely above a whisper. When he remained silent, she screamed, “HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT TO ME?”
“Because it’s true.”
She reeled back as if his words were a sword, which had pierced through her heart. “I can’t believe it,” she mumbled through numb lips. “I can’t believe that I wanted to live so much because of you and this is what I get.”
Biting back a groan of renewed agony, Angelus nastily spat, “What does that mean?” ‘Jesus Christ---how can she stay sane with all these emotions running through her?’
Instead of an answer she closed her eyes and shook her head.
“No. I don’t deserve this.”
Before he could point out just how much she DID deserve it, Buffy locked eyes with him and whispered, “You have no heart.”
He chuckled with vicious glee and returned, “That’s because I’m not weak like you, Buff.”
A river of tears steadily trickled down her ashen cheeks as she shouted, “If I’m weak, it’s because of you! YOU’RE the one who wants me to crawl to you like a pet every night. YOU’RE the one who needs me to suffer pain before pleasure! And YOU’RE the one who taught me to like it too!”
Stalking over to the hapless television, she drove her fist through the screen before screaming, “Fuck you, Angelus, because YOU’RE the one who needs me to be like this!”
Her blood immediately hit the air and mixed with the cloying smell of perfume. However, this time her crimson liquid did not stir the usual need inside of him. Instead, Angelus silently watched as she proceeded to destroy any evidence of her existence in his room.
“You taught me to beg you for your forgiveness and now you turn on me because of it?” A stuffed tiger’s head went flying towards the blackened fireplace. “You criticize me for being weak, when you’re the one who’s really weak!”
A picture of herself wrapped in jeweled ropes littered the floor in tiny pieces along with jagged splinters of glass. “You needed to tear me down until I wallowed in the same pile of shit as you!”
Angelus climbed down from the wreckage of his bed and padded towards her with a sneer. “I never had to tear you down, lover. You jumped into my arms far too quickly for me to have a chance to.” ‘Good. Her pain is mixing with hatred. I understand hatred. It’s the only thing I really know how to feel.’
Buffy paused in the midst of stripping a handful of drying roses of their petals before returning to her task. The blackness of her rage had flared up into a dangerous level before subsiding. If Angelus had been curious as to why she hadn’t given into violence, he got his answer with one whisper: “I won’t be like him.”
“That’s right, lover,” he callously needled. “You can’t blame me for your fall. It was your own weakness that led to this. Not mine.”
The blonde girl finished her task in silence.
“What?” he taunted. “No witless comeback?”
A jagged smile twisted her face as she gracefully walked up to him. Buffy arched up and roughly kissed his hard mouth. Just when he began to respond she pulled away and wiped her lips clean of his taste. “You don’t have to suffer my stupidity anymore, vamp. Congratulations. You won.” With that she tossed the decaying petals in his face and walked away.
Angelus’ eyes widened in shock as he watched her figure steadily make its way out of his life. ‘I got what I wanted, didn’t I? She's showing backbone now.’ The blossoming panic choked whatever poison was left in his black soul. ‘Shit! She wasn’t supposed to act like this!’
His pride was a forgotten encumbrance as he tore down the hallway.
“Bitch! I’m not finished with you!”
Buffy never stopped as she threw over her shoulder, “Oh, yes you are.”
Narrowing his eyes in thwarted rage, he reached out for her when she succinctly warned, “Touch me with that hand and it’s coming off.” She then lifted her arm and showcased the dagger clutched loosely in her fingers.
‘Where did she get that from?’ Looking to his right, he saw the glass door to the weapons case standing ajar and an empty spot. Feeling his control of the situation quickly dissolving, Angelus accused, “You’re running away again, Brat. Just like you do every time you don’t get your way.”
The Slayer stopped and turned around. The misery in her eyes belied the easy smile on her face. “I’m not running away this time. I have no intention of leaving this town. Not even for you.”
‘She’s giving me the same smile she gives everyone else. It’s the one she uses to cover up the truth. Does she think I don’t know her inside and out?’ Gingerly shaking his healed hand, he replied, “You believe you can just say this is over and it is?”
Buffy’s eyes welled with tears before they became clear again. Shrugging casually she murmured, “I didn’t say it was over. You did.”
Her relaxed posture bothered him. It insinuated that he was no longer privy to her vulnerabilities and he was no better than any acquaintance she came across. Angelus found he couldn’t stop one word from falling from his lips.
“How?”
“What difference does it make? What does it change? Nothing.”
“The difference is that I’m asking you. Now answer the damned question!” ‘I need to get control of this again. And I know force won’t serve me anything this time.’
The dry laugh that whispered in the air nearly made the vampire wince. “God, you’re so cruel.” Buffy’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, as if she were talking to herself. “But I already knew that, didn’t I? And I still committed the sin of loving you.”
“And I’m still waiting.” Although his tone was cold and detached, Angelus began to suffer dreaded fear. ‘It’s as if she’s mourning my loss. As if I’m gone.’
“You’re so cruel,” she accused in an even tone. “It’s not enough that you shattered me, now you want me to relive it.” Before he could reply she continued.
“You said I had no pride. You’re right. When it comes to you---I don’t---I didn’t. That’s what it means when you love someone, Angelus. You don’t have pride. You only have love.” Buffy sighed and flashed him a false smile again. “But you’ll never understand.”
Even though she had yet to take a step away, he could feel the distance between them steadily grow.
“Why are you telling me this?”
This time her eyes were shuttered with a peace that chilled him. It wasn’t the stare of a person balancing on the precipice of emotional doom. It was the stare of a person who had accepted her decision.
“Who knows?” she answered with another shrug. “I’m stupid, remember?”
‘Bullshit! This is not happening!’ Angelus desperately sought to change the situation as he silently cursed his temper. ‘Why the fuck did I flip out? Just because she was so damned docile? What the hell? It’s what I wanted from her!’
Taking a harassed breath, he said, “I’m getting really fucking tired of you pulling this shit, Buff.” Crossing his arms, he stated, “It seems like we’re constantly running into this problem. It’s repetitive. Every time you don’t like the way things are going, you pull out this shitty card.”
Buffy took in a deep breath as well.
“It’s not a card, Angelus. Goodnight.”
“I told you before: I’m not letting you go.”
“You already did. I’ve turned myself inside out for you, Angelus. I did everything you wanted me to because I thought that somehow that made you happy. I thought that you wanted me. But you never really did, did you?”
Refusing to venture into the territory she was leading him towards, Angelus repeated himself from before.
“How did I let you go?”
“The world would be a better place without me, huh?” Her hazel gaze flickered towards the life-size painting hanging in its dubious place of honor above the fireplace. “Maybe you’re right. If anything, I finally know how you really feel.”
With a flick of her wrist, Buffy sent the dagger flying across the room. The blade cleanly impaled the canvas representation of her chest. “You broke my heart with those words, Angelus. I don’t have anything to give you anymore. Game over. You won.”
The vampire knew he was going to damn himself with the next words, but he arrogantly uttered them anyway.
“The game isn’t over until you’re dead.”
Buffy’s mask slipped, the pain turning her face into an anguished grimace, before it returned. Her pallor was still sickly but she managed to sound unaffected. “Cross your fingers, Asshole---I’m sure Giles will find another prophesy with my name on it.” She turned around and quietly walked up the stairs. The sound of her bare feet slapping against marble echoed eerily in Angelus’ ears.
“Buff!” he shouted in a pitiful show of authority. “Get your ass back here!”
The mechanical hiss of the elevator doors sliding open greeted him next and then she was gone.
He stood there in confusion for a moment before turning around. The sight of his dagger piercing Buffy’s heart mockingly greeted him. Then for the first time since he had climbed out of his grave two and a half centuries ago, Angelus bent over and vomited.