As Buffy closed the door behind her, she watched her boyfriend flick the light switch on, bathing the room in an unnatural warm glow.

After quickly shedding his coat, the vampire returned to Buffy’s side.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead explaining simply, through chattering teeth: “Cold.” Which really, she thought he ought to have known.
Had they not just ran through the pouring rain, which generally made for a drop in body temperature?

Watching Angel as he mumbled quickly about getting her something, then turned to find her some dry clothing, Buffy thought back to when they were inside the factory. Angel had been willing to die to save her, and while she had no doubt he would have done, she was still shocked by it.

Smiling gratefully at him as he passed her the dry clothes, she realized something. She thought she already knew, but tonight proved things to her. Things like the fact that Angel really did love her.

“Put these on. Get under the covers, just to warm up.”
As she looked at him she saw the uncertainty in his eyes, before he swiftly turned away with a mumbled apology.

Smiling at the thought that he wanted to protect her privacy even from himself made her smile again.

Quickly Buffy pulled her small top shirt over her head, hissing in pain when she felt pain fly across the skin of her shoulder.

“What?”

“Oh, um... It's okay. I just have a cut or something.”

“Can I...” Angel hesitated before carrying on. “Lemme see.”

“Okay.” Her softly spoken consent was all he needed; as Angel turned around Buffy clutched her shirt to her chest, suddenly acutely aware that she was in Angel’s apartment, on his bed and her top was soaked through making it appear almost see-through.

The vampire sat behind her on the bed, gently he examined the small cut.“It’s already closed. You’re fine.”

Hearing this Buffy gently leant back, snuggling into his embrace as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

Closing her eyes, Buffy whispered quietly, “You almost went away today.” She could feel her young heart breaking as she thought of what could have happened.

“We both did” Angel’s reply was not the comforting one she had hoped for. Trying to stifle a sob and failing she allowed the heartbreak she felt colour her voice.

“Angel... I feel like I lost you.” Still holding back her tears, she let loose small sniffles. “You’re right though. We can’t be sure of anything.”

Angel wasn’t sure how to comfort her, after being on his own for so long he was still unsure of how to deal with other people’s emotions.

“Shhh, I...” He hesitated, knowing he loved her but telling her how he felt were two very different things.

Peering over her shoulder to look at him, Buffy was sure her heart was showing in her eyes. “You...what?”

Although she was certain of what he was about to say, she didn’t want to push him.

“I love you. I try not to, but I can't stop.” It was said in a rush, as if desperate to say the words but also not wanting them to be spoken, and almost as if he expected punishment for loving her. A small smile broke out of Buffy’s face, relieved to hear him say it.

"Me, me, too. I can't either.” Still smiling, she angled her lips to meet his.Tentatively they started kissing, a fire slowly building. All too soon Angel began to pull away.

“Buffy, maybe we shouldn’t…”

Holding his face close to hers with one hand, Buffy looked deeply into his eyes.

“Don’t. Just kiss me.”

And he did, before Buffy knew what was happening she was lying on the bed with Angel above her. He was still being gentle, treating her as though she would break, but now she could sense his growing loss of restraint.

Guiltily she found that she loved that she had this affect on him.

In slow motion, their clothes slowly peeled away as though by magic. Angel marveled in the soft, warm flesh that was revealed to his tortured yet hungry gaze.

And the Slayer was just as bad, gasping as his cool skin came into contact with her own heated body.

But as the first bit of cool air touched her breasts, and she realized she was nearly completely naked, a bolt of insecurity shot through her. Quickly her hands reached up to cover herself, Angel either didn’t notice or was too far gone in lust to care. He started unzipping her pants, and then carefully shimmied them down her legs, along with her plain white, cotton underwear.

Unable to move, she whispered, “Angel? I—“

“Shhh, it’s okay.” His reply and kind smile seemed to return some of her confidence; she lifted one of her small, delicate hands to his face. Pulling him in for another kiss that she was sure could have left her breathless had he not moved away so soon.

Just as suddenly as her comfort levels returned to normal, they soared upwards again as she felt a very intimate part of Angel press up against her very intimate parts.

Gasping, half excited, half nervous, she stared up into his deep, mysterious brown eyes that were filled with lust.

Lust for her.

A swell of womanly pride grew within her and she gently ran a hand down in between their bodies, until she reached his cock. Gently she gripped him in her hand, stroking him up and down causing him to pant useless breaths.

The next second he flung her hand away and pressed the head of his penis against her slightly wet folds. Slowly he eased his way in, feeling her warmth surround him. Then he felt her hymen; the barrier between her and womanhood. Leaning in to kiss her again, he whispered into her mouth. “This might hurt. I’m sorry…”

He drew back slightly and thrust into her, causing Buffy to cry out in pain. Tears welled in her eyes, but they didn’t fall, instead she smiled sweetly at him and sighed softly.“I love you.” He smiled lovingly at her.

As he began to move within her, he felt something change. Pain struck him, tearing through his body, burning him inside out.

“Ahhh! Bu— Arghh!” Pain coursed through his body, setting all his nerve endings on fire. And that’s when he knew what was happening. He had never felt this before but he knew without a doubt what it was.

“Angel? Angel!” Buffy cried when he started screaming in agony. Had she done this? What had happened? She had no idea what had caused him to cry out in pain, but couldn’t help wondering if it was her. If it wasn’t, what was?

“Please God, no…” His soft whisper at her neck made her body flush cold with fear.

Angel screamed in pain once more before collapsing on top of the Slayer beneath him with a shuddering sigh.

A few seconds passed before Buffy tried to speak again. “Angel? Are you okay?“

“The pain is gone.” Angel’s eerily calm voice sounded from his resting place near her neck.

"Wha--"

He then reared his head back to look at her. "Hello lover."

Buffy gasped in shock at the sight of his demon face; usually he tried to hide that part of himself away from her but now…

“Angel, what are y—“

“Angel’s not home anymore, sweetheart.” He used the endearment sarcastically, and then laughed at the confused look colouring Buffy’s delicate features.

As she realized, her eyes widened. She began to struggle in earnest to get away from the now-souless vampire; he quickly caught her wrists and held them in a painful grip above her head.

Looking down to where they were still intimately joined, the vampire chuckled. “Well, well, well…”

TBC

He had considered just killing her.

It would have been easy as she lay struggling beneath him with his cock still imbedded in her tight, virginal pussy.

But where was the fun in that? No, he was going to have his fun with the little Slayer that was now chained to his bed. He was going to punish her for ever making his soulful counterpart feel like he belonged; like he was human.

She had made him weak. Angelus chuckled; now he was going to return the favour.

He sat a few feet from the bed in one of Angel's more comfortable armchairs, watching the Slayer who was now staring into space. He hated when his victims did this, went off to their ‘happy place' where he couldn't touch them.

But she would be back, if he left her alone for long enough she would come back down and he could resume their play-time. Until then he had time to look around ‘Angel's' apartment, he snarled angrily at his refrigerator filled with pigs blood, which again he blamed on the tiny Slayer and of course, the soul.

He also found more interesting things hidden away, such as cigarettes and expensive bottles of his favourite alcohol. Which had surprised him immensely, while trapped inside Angel he had not been privy to everything Angel did, sometimes he would find himself completely blocked out. Seems like Angel had not been able to kill off all the bad habits he had picked up as human and his time as Angelus.

Not that it mattered now. Angel was gone, and if the souless vampire had anything to say about it, the soul would never be restored. With a satisfied smirk at the thought, Angelus grew tired of waiting.

Standing abruptly he made his way over to where the Slayer lay. Leaning over her, he brought a hand up to caress the side of her face in a gentle manner.

As though sensing the violence had stopped, Buffy's eyes flickered towards his face. Her eyes held so much hope, Angelus felt like weeping...with mirth. After swallowing a few times she attempted to speak.

"A-" Buffy's throat was so dry from her screams before she couldn't finish. She was in a haze so deep she had trouble not falling back into a comatose state. Everything was so confusing.

Tonight was supposed to be a night she would always remember, and she knew she would but for all the wrong reasons. After Angel's pained screaming he had changed, he had become the monster she had always worried he could be.

She had pleaded with him to stop. Begged him to listen. Screamed until her voice was hoarse.

Yet he had carried on abusing her, uncaring of her blood, that now coated the sheets around her, of the fear that rolled from her body. Well actually that he seemed to enjoy, which only made her cry harder.

She had been dreaming of this night for months, she had day-dreamed about it even longer. In her dreams they had always made love gently, professing their love for one another, and then as she fell asleep he would hold her close telling her how much she meant to him.

If she wasn't so dazed and confused she may have laughed at that thought now. Tonight had played so differently to what she had expected that she wouldn't be surprised if she woke up to find it had all been a horrible nightmare, but the pain that seared through her young body told a different story.

Sometime during his continuous raping, she had drifted off. She went to a place where she could imagine none of tonight existed and she was safe.

But now she was staring back into the souless vampire's vicious eyes, and she was terrified. More terrified than she had ever been before, even on her first patrol she had not felt the coil of fear now spiralling outwards through her body, starting from the pit of her stomach.

"Ah ah ah" Angelus chastised lightly, he was really getting a kick out of playing with this girl. "I told you to be quiet...unless you feel the need to scream of course. That I don't mind at all." His face twisted into an ugly smirk that chilled her.

"Now what should we do, hmm? We've got...well I've got forever, you've got until I get bored." Chuckling darkly at the fear in her eyes, he just loved that look in a girl: terrified.

"Y'know, I might not kill you... I could turn you, how would you like that Buff? I could make you insane first like I did with Drusilla. Did Angel ever tell how I made that sweet, young girl suffer before I sired her? I could do the same to you..."

Angelus laughed harshly when the fear he felt coming from the girl before him increased ten-fold. So Angel had told her, another thing Angelus hadn't been privy too. He decided not to dwell on it at the moment; he had much more...interesting pursuits to follow.

He pulled a wicked looking dagger from the bedside table, Buffy saw it was the same one he used on her earlier, only now it was encrusted with her blood.

Slowly Angelus dragged the blade across her stomach, watching her precious blood weep from the deep cuts he made. Mesmerized by the sight, he was oblivious to her whimpers of pain. After finishing the three long cuts that travelled diagonally across the plane of her flat stomach, he bent down to lick up the blood he had released from her body.

All Buffy could do was lie there and weep softy and wonder: why?


~*~*~*~


Wheeling round the table to where Drusilla was lying, while she stared interestedly up at the ceiling, he leant forward, placing his forearms on the table, watching his Sire with an indulgent smile. "Are we feeling better, then?"

"I'm naming all the stars" She spoke softly; Spike felt a stab of guilt when he wished fleetingly that she would act normal every now and again. It wasn't her fault she was like this, that blame lay directly at his grandsire's door.

"You can't see the stars, luv. That's the ceiling. Also, its day" He didn't know why he felt the urge to point this out, it wouldn't make any difference. He sometimes thought that maybe if he tried to carry on a normal conversation it would make up for her lack of sanity; it never did. His Sire would always bring the talk back round to pixies, dollies or more recently she had been speaking of a sunlight that would burn him if he wasn't careful. Which to him made no sense, why would he go off and 'play in sunlight' as she had put it? He knew he liked to live dangerously, but that was taking it a step too far.

Returning his attention back to the vampire that had held his heart for over a century, he realised she had indeed returned to talking about the stars that only she could see.

"I can see them. But I've named them all the same name." The female vampire tilted her head towards her attentive Childe. "And there's terrible confusion."

Suddenly Drusilla's earlier episode came back to him, she'd had a vision pertaining to Angel. Or as Spike preferred to think of him: The Great Poofter.

"Did you see any further? Do you know what happens to Angel?" He pressed gently; he had a feeling whatever happened would not please him, considering the evil smile that Dru had painted on her lips after the vision had passed.

"Well..." Clearing his throat, Angelus began walking into the room. "He moves to New York and tries to fulfil that Broadway dream. It's tough sledding, but one day he's working in the chorus when the big star twists her ankle."

"You don't give up, do you?" Spike spoke exasperatedly; he just couldn't believe the ponce was simple enough to come back here when he knew about the Judge. He almost laughed at his stupidity; almost. But as he still wasn't sure what Dru's vision had shown her, so he cautiously kept a lid on his mirth.

Angelus approached the vampire duo slowly. "As long as there's injustice in the world, as long as scum like you is walking..." He cast his gaze down to the wheelchair that Spike occupied, sniggering lightly. "Well, rolling the streets... I'll be around. Look over your shoulder. I'll be there."

He stood looming over the blonde vampire, until Spike smirked."Uh yeh... Angel, look over your shoulder."

As Angelus turned around the Judge reached out to place a hand on the newly-soulless vampire's chest. With a look of concentration the Judge began trying to burn away the humanity in Angelus, and the vampire with it.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Spike's sat back with a satisfied smirk, ready to enjoy the show.

Looking back over his shoulder, the brunette vampire replied in a strained voice, "Well, y'know, it kinda itches a little."

Spike's gaze flew to the Judge. "Don't just stand there. Burn him."

"Gee, maybe he's broken." Angelus joked.

Spike growled, "What the hell is goin' on?"

Behind him Drusilla's eyes widen in realisation, her mouth twisting into a wicked grin.

"This one cannot be burnt." The Judge released the vampire he had intended to burn. "He is clean"

Looking confused Spike continued, "Clean? You mean he's..."

"There's no humanity in him." With that the Judge walked away, leaving two soulless vampires staring in awe, and the other smirking at their stunned expressions.

"I couldn't have said it better myself" Shrugging nonchalantly, while trying to suppress his mirth.

"Angel." She whispered his name like a reverent prayer, which riled Spike.

And Angelus' reply just about made his blood boil."Yeah, baby. I'm back."


~*~*~*~


After making friendly with the newly returned vampire, Spike had wheeled his way through the factory to his room, playing what Angelus had said and the conversation that followed over and over in his mind.

‘Ahh sweet Buffy, not much for the torture but she is one hell of a screamer.'

‘Come again, mate?'

‘Well, she was before I gagged her, there's only so many ‘please', ‘stop's and ‘no's a vampire can take after all.'

Spike could still hear the older vampire's dark chuckle.

‘So, let me get this straight, you had the chance to off the annoying chit and you didn't?'

‘Nah, I let the little whore live. Where's the fun in killing her, when I could torment her for everything she made m- Angel feel?'

Spike had heard the slip, but he had decided to ignore it for now, it would do him no good to rile the wanker up when he was confined to a wheelchair, whereas Angelus was at full strength.

‘You left her alive? Where?'

He had hoped the curiosity that coloured his voice didn't raise Angelus' suspicion. But at the time he wasn't even sure why he wanted to know so badly, it had just seemed important.

He needn't have worried; Angelus was too far gone in his boasting to even notice Spike's curiosity.

‘Where else? His apartment, I wonder if she'll wake up calling for her soulful lover boy. That happened the first few times, and each time I got to personally crush the hope in her eyes.'

And the ugly smirk was once again planted on his face.

Spike had forced a chuckle, but the information made him feel sick to his stomach, which surprised him. Since when did he give a damn about the Slayer?

He had taken to his room shortly after that, as the sight of Angelus and Dru fawning over each other was another thing that made him want to heave.

Reaching for his cigarettes, Spike lit one up, inhaling slowly and savouring the effect the nicotine had on his frazzled nerves. Once he felt calm enough, he thought back to Angelus' prattle about torturing the young Slayer. And although he felt angry as hell at her for his current predicament, he could not help the swell of empathy he felt for her. He too had suffered at Angelus' hands, back in his fledgling days.

And now because of her he might have to again.

*If the silly bint had just kept her legs shut, he w-*

For some unknown reason he felt guilt stab at him. He blamed the Victorian gentleman buried deep inside for the guilty feeling he now had. He had every right to blame her.

As he thought about the Slayer, he wondered if she was still at the Poof's apartment. From how Angelus had described her condition when he had left her and from his own experiences, Spike guessed she would be.

Promptly crushing his cigarette into the wall, he spun his chair around to face the door. What could he do? How would he be any help at all, in the state he was in? He growled low in his throat, a state caused by the Slayer who he was willing to go to, to what...? Help her? Kill her in her moment of weakness? He didn't know. All he knew was that he had to find her.

*Preferably before Captain Forehead decides to have another go.*

Cursing not only the tiny blonde but also himself, he wheeled to the door.

As he rolled his chair through the main part of the factory he saw Angelus and Dru, to be exact he saw them screwing each other silly on the table. That was quick, he thought to himself, not allowing his hurt to show. He ignored them and carried on towards the door.

Suddenly Angelus' head popped up from where he had been biting into Dru's neck.

"Spike, my boy." His voice full of glee, clearly relishing in the fact that Spike had caught the show he had orchestrated especially for the blonde vampire. He carried on fucking Spike's Sire into the table as though it were nothing, which was probably true for the elder. "So responsive, isn't she?" Drusilla chose that moment to let out a long moan, clawing her nails down Angelus' back, leaving deep, red scratches that would last for days.

Chuckling in delight, both at Drusilla's increasingly loud moans and Spike's obvious hurt, he returned to suckling hungrily her neck, yet keeping his cold, yellow eyes locked with Spike's.

Feeling his own eyes mist up, he angrily shook himself tearing his gaze away from Angelus who was now pounding fiercely into his Childe.

Spike violently wheeled his chair to the exit; he heard the older vampire's infuriating laughter follow him out into the night. He knew his Sire had always loved her ‘Daddy' but to see it again after so many years broke his unbeating heart.

Finally outside, away from the sounds of Drusilla's throaty moans and Angelus' maddening laughter, he allowed his bitter tears to fall. How? After more than 100 years of giving her everything she ever wanted, how had she just laid down and opened her legs for another vamp. Not just any vamp either, no she did it for the one Spike despised most in this world.

Yelling out his frustration, he threw his fist at the nearest thing he could find. Which happened to be a wall. As he stared at the blood seeping from the messy wound that now adorned his left knuckles, he started chuckling hysterically.

Suddenly he remembered why he had left the factory.

The Slayer.

It was all her fault. She had released Angelus from his soulful prison, therefore she was the one who would pay for his misery over seeing his Sire willing throw herself at the overgrown buffoon. Nodding his head sharply as though coming to a silent decision, he knew what he had to do.

*Bitch is gunna pay.*

Angrily he wheeled himself as fast as he could to Angel's apartment, it took him a while, and many colourful curses were directed at his current handicap and the girl whose fault it was.

But finally he was there, panting unneeded breaths at the exertion of wheeling his chair as fast as he had.

Carefully manoeuvring himself down the dark corridor of apartments, he caught the heavy scent of blood. And not just any blood, it was the Slayer's blood. A sharp tingling spread through his upper body like wildfire, his demon fighting to get to the surface in the excitement of smelling Slayer blood for the first time in years.

Growling softly, the vampire continued down the narrow passage until he came to the door he was certain the Slayer lay behind. Reaching out for the handle, he gave it a sharp twist and let the door swing open.

His eyes rolled back in his head as soon as the full intoxicating scent of Slayer blood hit him like a freight train; he felt the bones in his face start to shift but pushed the urge to vamp out down swiftly.

*Concentrate, you pillock*

Opening his eyes again, he rolled carefully into the room, reaching out to slam the door shut behind him. He wasn't sure exactly how injured she was, and if she was expecting Angelus' back she could possibly have a stake at the ready, depending on how fast she healed.

He needn't have worried.

He found her stretched out on the bed, chained by her wrists and ankles and left completely spread-eagled and vulnerable. The sheets beneath her almost black from the blood that was still weeping slightly from her barely healed cuts. Her mouth was covered by a thin piece of black fabric that acted as a gag.

Before going any nearer, firstly he checked for any possibly weapons, which he realised a moment later was pointless; she was barely in any position to attack when she was so securely bound. He made sure he had a tight rein on his demon, the smell of her blood was heavenly to him, and the scent would only increase in potency the closer he moved.

When he was certain his demon was under control, he began to move closer to the bed on which she lay. The wheels of his chair squeaked slightly as he approached, causing Buffy to gasp sharply and start murmuring through the gag. He hadn't even known she was awake.

"Plea', plea', plea', no, no, no, no, nononono." Her whisper became more distressed and urgent the nearer he came to the bed, her words were muffled by the gag but he knew exactly what she was saying. "Plea', not again, no, no, no..."

Before he had the chance to rein in his sympathy, he felt his unbeating, long-dead heart go out to her. Angelus had really done a number on her. Without realising it, he must have spoken out loud.

All her murmured pleas stopped abruptly. Before her almost child-like voice spoke again, whispering hoarsely through the black fabric.

"'pi- 'pike?"

Then the next thing he knew she was sobbing her broken teenage heart out into pillows as she turned her head away from him to face the wall.

He would not comfort her. He wouldn't.

Instead he reached for the keys he saw lying on the bedside table.

When Buffy heard the soft clinking of keys, her sobs ceased and she turned to look at the wheelchair bound vampire before her.

Leaning over, mindful to not fall from his wheelchair, he unlocked the chain from her left wrist, then from her left ankle. Whenever his cool skin came into contact with her warm flesh she would flinch, which didn't surprise him in the least; after all the girl had spent most of her night being sadistically raped and tortured by a vampire.

With that thought he suddenly realised something; the Slayer before him was completely naked.

For some unknown reason he reached down to pull the thin blanket up over her, it wasn't that he wanted to save what was left of her tattered dignity. Or so he told himself, he just didn't want to have to look at all the wickedly tempting blood that painted her body the most delicious shade of red.

*Yeh, that's it. I don't give a rat's arse about the Slayer's dignity.*

He snorted softly, knowing he did care, but what he couldn't figure out was why.

Shaking his head as if trying to disperse his thoughts, he turned his attention back to the Slayer. Reaching out again, he loosened the material covering her mouth, mindful that his cool skin never made contact with hers. When the gag came loose enough he pulled it gently over her head and threw the fabric as far away from them as he could.

Clearing his throat, caused her to flinch violently. So he forced himself to speak softly; wouldn't do to frighten her. He thought back a few weeks to when all he wanted was to have that sort of reaction from her. "Pet, you're gunna have to unlock the rest of the chains yourself..." He spoke slowly and clearly.

Slowly she reached out with a shaky hand, passing the keys to her gently, Spike watched as she fumbled with the lock on her left wrist, hissing in pain whenever her body stretched too far, or moved suddenly.

Finally she released her wrist from its tight shackle, grunting softly in exertion from the small action, weakened by blood loss and the emotional upheaval of the night. Her left arm, numb from being chained in the same position for god knows how long, flopped down with a soft *thump*. She didn't move immediately, just breathed slowly in and out through her nose, trying to push the bile down that had risen in her throat.

Now after everything she had been through, she was going to die.

Now after believing that maybe she would survive this awful night, she realised she wouldn't.

Not only in physical agony but emotional too, she channelled all her love to the people she would be leaving behind. Her Mom, Giles, Willow and Xander all at the forefront of her mind, she accepted what she knew was coming, only praying that it would be quick.

Steeling herself against the tears that flooded her eyes, ignoring the burning and constricting of her throat, she spoke in a cold, firm voice.

"Just do it, Spike."

For a moment he looked perplexed, and then it hit him. The Slayer thought he was here to kill her, and she had decided to give up the fight. For some reason he felt a white hot rage build within him.

The tiny, thoroughly abused girl lying on the bed in front of him had given up, she was by far the best Slayer he had ever had the pleasure of fighting, and yet she had easily accepted what she assumed was to be her fate.

He growled low in his throat, "M'not here to kill you, Slayer." He tried to keep the anger he was feeling from smothering his voice, reminding himself of the helplessness and vulnerability he had felt after one of Angelus' many torture sessions.

Surprise and hope blossomed on her bruised, beaten face. Before the steel mask swiftly slammed back down, hiding her emotions from the blonde vampire. "You're lying." She glared at him as much as she could from beneath her black, blue and swollen eyelids.

"Listen, pet. If I'd have come here to kill you, you'd already be dead. An' I certainly wouldn't have bloody unchained you." He let out a shuddering breath, before forcing the words from his mouth. "I'm...I'm here to help you."

Finally she turned her face fully towards him, emotionless mask gone. "Why?" Again her voice sounded so child-like Spike felt the need to hold her close and-

*Whoa, where the bloody hell did that come from?*

Looking away from her questioning gaze, he wondered silently why he was doing this too. It made no sense, he hated her, hated everything she stood for. She was the gnat in his ear. The gristle in his teeth. The thorn in his side, for fuck's sake! So why did he feel the strong urge to protect her? Suddenly he had an idea; while it was perfectly truthful he knew the Slayer would probably accept it and stop asking questions he didn't know the answers to yet.

"Because I can't take Angelus' down by lonesome, can I? I figure, the enemy of my enemy is my friend," He paused, a ghost of a smile playing about his lips. "Well ‘friend' might be pushing it, but you see where I'm goin' with this...right?"

Nodding hesitantly, Buffy knew that he wasn't telling her the full truth, but as she relaxed back into the pillows of the bed where her whole world had turned upside down she could feel sleep calling her, dragging her under slowly.

"Does that mean if I fell asleep right now...you won't try and kill me?" Her tired voice murmured, clearly already on her way to dreamland.

"No, Slayer." He chuckled softly, and when she finally slipped into a welcome unconsciousness he spoke quietly again. "You're safe with me."

Mouth agape with horror at the truth with which he had whispered his admission, he wheeled backwards, faster than he had thought physically possible, across the room.

The back of his wheelchair hit the wall with enough force to almost dislodge him from where he sat. Yet his eyes remained on the small figure lying on the bed.

He stared at the sleeping girl intently. She had one dainty hand wrapped around the thin sheet covering her broken, battered body; she pulled it tighter to her, snuggling her head deeper into the pillows. Her nose scrunching up momentarily before her entire face relaxed as she fell deeper into her seemingly dreamless slumber. Spike thought he had never witnessed anything quite as adorable in his life.

Shaking his head at the thought, he muttered almost silently:"What the hell is happening to me?"

Buffy’s attempts to stop the screams bubbling up inside of her began to fail. She bit down on her tongue until her thick, coppery blood pooled in the back of her throat.

Still she refused to give him the satisfaction.

But as he carved mindless patterns across her previously unmarred flesh she could not back her whimpers of pain, nor the tears that rolled down her cheeks in quick succession.

She saw his eyes twinkling up at her, gauging how long she would last before either letting loose a piercing scream or succumbing to the unconsciousness that did not seem to want her.

Rolling her eyes to the back of her skull, she squeezed her weakening muscles tightly trying to ease the pain. She heard his dark chuckle and felt his cold skin press up against her.

*Not again, please no...*

Her silent prayers to whoever would listen went unanswered.

Angelus slipped into game face, letting his sharp claws extend, before tearing at the soft flesh of her already bruised thighs. Blood ran thickly down her legs, making her stomach roll in on itself.

Grasping the chains that held her wrists, Buffy began another fruitless struggle to break them so she could escape the horror that now surrounded her. Her arms protested as she pulled down on the thick, heavy chains. Letting a cry of anguish pass through her lips, she knew that she was still trapped just as completely as she had been hours before.

Suddenly Angelus was at her neck, inhaling the scent of her blood that ran close to the surface.

*This is It.* She thought, finally he was going to end her torment.

She felt his fangs and cock simultaneously imbed themselves into her, crying out in pain as he raped her body while stealing her blood.

Buffy could feel everything as he moved roughly above her, taking her with such brutality she could hardly remember the vampire he had been earlier that very same day.

*Angel*

She wanted to kick, punch and scream at the unfairness of it all. Everything she had dreamed tonight would be had rapidly become her worst nightmare.

As the vampire on top of her raked his sharp claws over her breasts, leaving angry, red welts, she finally released the agonised scream she had promised herself she would not let him hear.


~*~*~*~


Her dreamless sleep didn’t last long; Spike could see her lax fingers tighten around the sheet she used to cover herself. Her relaxed face became tense with fear and agony, scrunching up once again as she relived the horror of what Angelus had done to her.

He watched as her quiet whimpers increased in volume and her body twitched violently beneath its thin covering. His sudden urge to comfort her took him by surprise, he knew he wanted to protect her but couldn’t for the unlife in him figure out why.

Just a few hours before, when both Angel and the Slayer had been trapped by his minions, he had welcomed her death. As the Judge had approached her, ready to burn her to cinders, Spike had watched eagerly, confident in the fact that the girl who had rendered him to a wheelchair was about to meet her maker.

But now, while he still had the intense urge to sink his fangs into her jugular, he knew he wouldn't. After hearing all Angelus’ boasting Spike had felt a strange possessiveness for Buffy fall around him.

The Slayer was his, somewhere deep down he knew that. He felt it.

And although he still disliked her strongly with a passion, he accepted that she belonged to him. The very moment he realised this, Spike swore to himself that Angelus would never touch Buffy again; ever.

With this thought, he turned his attention back to the struggling Slayer who was still lost in her nightmare. Running a hand through his stiffly gelled platinum hair, unknowingly releasing the soft curls from their prison, he pondered over what he should do now.

She was in obvious need of medical attention, but where should he take her? To the hospital where he knew he would need a damn good explanation as to why he had such a brutally beaten girl on his lap? Or to the Watcher’s place? Where, again he would need to explain exactly what had happened before the man could drive a pointy, wooden stake through his heart.

On the one hand, he could tell her Watcher the truth: that it was Angel who, not only was now missing a soul, but had also tortured and abused his Slayer. Taking her to the hospital would require time to think up a plausible excuse as to why a wheelchair bound man had a severely injured teenager perched, unconscious, on his chair with him.

*No,* he decided, *looks like the Watcher is gettin’ a visit from William the Bloody.* Spike could only pray that the man would make the Slayer his first priority, giving him time to explain, before running to fetch a stake.

Gripping the wheels of his chair he pushed himself forward, coming to a halt no more than a foot away from Buffy’s shaking form. Now came the question of how to wake her without scaring the life out of her. He figured gentle was the way to go, to treat her as he would Drusilla when she had one of her more painful visions.

Reaching a hand out towards her, Spike faltered. Sucking in a quick breath he placed his hand over the one she had twisted in the fabric covering her. Smiling slightly as her trembles lessened, he gently squeezed her hand.

When that had no effect, he leaned closer, his voice tumbled low and smooth from his lips. "Time to wake up, luv."




Shooting upwards with a strangled gasp, Buffy awoke. Instantly she regretted the sudden movement that caused white-hot pain to fire throughout her body.

Then she felt her Slayer senses go haywire. A master vampire was near, yet somehow she knew she was in no immediate danger. Opening her swollen eyelids, she saw that he was sat closer than she had anticipated causing her to jump in surprise.

That was not her only source of surprise. He had not only stayed with her, for however long she had slept, but he hadn’t tried to kill her while she was vulnerable in sleep. Welcome yet strange warmth suffused her body, and she knew with certainty that he would not hurt her.

Exactly how she knew that remained a mystery, Buffy just put it down to the fact he had not attempted to hurt her while she was unconscious and weak.

"Spike?" Her voice gravelly from the screams Angelus’ torture methods had torn from her throat.

"The one an’ only," His reply held an affection that she had never heard before, and it puzzled her. "How you feelin’?"

Through the mass of bruises and slowly healing cuts that marred her face, Buffy cast him an incredulous glance.

*How does he think I’m feeling? Stupid, insensitive, undead jerk.* Buffy huffed silently but without any fire behind her silent words.

"Right." Feeling like an idiot, Spike looked away from her. "Oh, um, water." Pointing towards the glass of water he had thoughtfully placed on the bedside table, cringing at the politeness he hadn’t heard in his voice since becoming a vampire.

A flash of disbelief crossed Buffy’s face, before she shot him a small grateful smile that caused her to wince as pain shot through her cheeks. She reached a hand up, feeling the lumps, bruises and barely-there cuts that covered her face. Tears welled in her eyes; quickly she blinked them away and reached for—

Spike held the glass in his hand, passing it to her so she wouldn’t have to strain in reaching for it. Yet again she looked at him like he was from another planet, but took the glass. As their fingers brushed lightly she automatically flinched, a flash of hurt crossed Spike’s face before he looked at her with understanding.

"Thanks." Buffy muttered, confused by his behaviour. Lifting the glass to her lips, she took small, careful gulps as she had been taught to do by her mother whenever she had been sick as a little girl. Buffy savoured the cool water sliding down her aching throat, soothing the burning sensation.

When the glass was half empty she set it aside, only wincing slightly as her cuts and bruises stretched with her movements. She caught Spike watching her carefully, almost as if he was waiting for something.

"How...how long was I asleep?" A sudden fear gripped her. How long had she slept? Would Angelus come back for seconds? She knew he would, but the question was when? Buffy fought to keep her voice from shaking; she wouldn’t let Spike see how terrified she really felt.

"Not long, ‘bout half an hour is all." She couldn’t hide the crippling fear that bled into her eyes. Would that be long enough for Angelus to realise Spike was gone? And even if he didn’t, was it long enough for him to bore of whatever he was doing and come back?

"I should go" But her body wouldn’t cooperate. As Buffy tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed, pain ripped through her petite frame causing her to cry out in pain.

Spike’s hands immediately came up as if to hold her in place. "Don’t move, you silly bint. D’you want split all them healin’ cuts open?" Sighing wearily, he dropped his hands. "Just hold your horses, alright Slayer?"

He then wheeled around to Angel’s drawers, throwing them open and grabbing the first things he could find: a white wife-beater and simple black sweats "Here, put these on."

He threw the clothes on the end of the bed, and then purposefully kept his back turned while she changed.
When he heard no movement behind him he chanced a look. Buffy was sat exactly where she had been a few minutes ago, but now her face was crumpled in silent sobs.

"I—I—" She drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. "I can’t w-wear them."

Puzzled, Spike began to demand "Why the hell n—" He realised. "Oh."

Of course she wouldn’t want to wear her rapist’s clothes, Spike cursed his insensitivity. But as he looked back at her, he realised she couldn’t go to the Watcher’s wrapped in a blood-saturated sheet or naked. He would have laughed at the visual that thought gave him if the situation wasn’t so serious. They needed to leave as soon as possible, who knew when The Great Poof would tire of Dru and come back for round two? But knowing them two, Spike thought it wasn't likely that Angelus would return anytime soon.

He still wasn’t sure exactly how to transport the injured girl from here to the Watcher’s flat. He had thought of placing her in his lap and simply wheeling there, but in that scenario she had still been unconscious. He doubted she would willing sit on his unmoveable legs and let him wheel her across town.

He looked down at his legs, cursing them yet again. As he did, he noticed his black, leather duster.

Spike grimaced. *Bloody hell*

Leaning forward slightly, he began to pull his arms from his precious coat. He carefully used one arm to push himself up quickly, and then whipped the duster out from underneath him. Slumping back with a sigh, he eyed the Slayer and then the material that he often thought of as his second skin.

"Here, pet." Still reluctant to let anyone else wear his duster, only Dru had ever been given the courtesy of wearing it. "Put this on."

To say she looked shocked would be an understatement. This was a big deal, she knew. Buffy had the feeling that his duster had a story behind it, something that placed it above his other possessions.

"...Why?"

"It’s either this or you’re goin’ to your Watcher’s place naked. Take your bloody pick." He said the words with no anger or impatience, and for that Buffy was grateful. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep her tears at bay, and his anger would surely push her over the edge.

Then she realised the implications of his words. "You’re...taking me to Giles’?" She reached out for the duster in Spike’s hands; if they were going to Giles’ flat then she would prefer to be clothed.

He passed her the coat quickly and turned as she put it on, when she finished buttoning up the front he heard her whispered "Thanks." Spinning around swiftly, he took in the sight of her sitting there in his duster. Even with the many cuts and bruises marring her face and now-covered body she looked beautiful.

The sight of her wrapped up in his black leather made any borrowed blood in his system rush southwards.

Which, in itself, shocked him; he hadn’t felt any movement down there since the girl in front of him dropped an organ on him. He could have laughed at the irony. He was having his first hard-on since the incident, and the cause of it was the girl who had rendered his lower-half numb and unresponsive.

Shaking his head slightly, he cleared his head of thoughts of the Slayer laid across a king size, four poster bed wearing nothing but his unbuttoned black, leather duster, her skin perfectly clear of tonight’s brutality and glowing with the healthy tan she always seemed to have.

Now the hard-on he sported had swelled in epic proportions he knew that carrying her on his lap was a bad idea. He didn’t want to scare the girl after all.

"Might be better if you gave him a ring... Doubt he'd be pleased to see me carryin’ you to his place with you in this state."

"Oh." Buffy looked confused for a moment before speaking again. "Yeah, that makes sense. Can you pass me the phone?" She pointed to the chunky, portable phone on a small table near an armchair.

After Spike passed the phone to her, Buffy stared at the numbers. What would she tell Giles? Should she tell him everything? Or mostly everything, only with the most private parts omitted?

"What is it, luv?" His soft, baritone voice broke through her light haze.

"What am I gonna say to him?" She felt the tears well up in her eyes and start to overflow down her cheeks, she quickly dashed them away. Embarrassed by weakness she was displaying and the childlike quality of her voice.

"Tell him as little or as much as you want. He doesn’t have to know everythin' that happened tonight." Again his voice was soft and warm, and had Buffy been feeling something like normal, she may have called him on his un-Spike-like behaviour. But right now she couldn’t help but be drawn in by the rich sound of his voice.

"You don’t think he has a right to know?" Again the child’s tone colouring her voice irritated her.

"I think he needs to know ‘bout Angelus..." He waited calmly until the grimace on her face left at the mention of the soulless demon’s name. "But anythin’ else is your business." He looked away from her tear misted eyes. "S’way I see it, anyway."

"Yeah, you’re right." Then as she began to punch Giles’ number into the phone, Spike caught another whispered "Thanks." He looked back at her and smiled, letting her know he had heard her barely audible gratitude.

He listened as the Watcher picked up. "Hello?" His tone was slightly panicked, as if waiting for her call. But then again he would have been, the last thing the man knew was that Buffy had gone to the factory. For all he knew she could have died, which she almost had, both at the factory and after her narrow escape.

"Hey Giles, it’s me." She forced her voice to sound happy and carefree, but wasn't sure how well she had pulled it off.

"Buffy? Where are you? Are you okay? What happened at the factory? Has the Ju—"

"Giles! Chill!" Buffy’s voice now had a genuine touch of laughter to it. "I need you to come get me, okay? I know it’s late, I’m sorry. But I didn’t know who else to call." Just as suddenly as the happiness had appeared it was gone, replaced by tearful pleading.

"Buffy, what’s happened? Of course I’ll come and get you. Where are you? Are you inj—"

Again Buffy cut him off. "Giles!" Her quiet shout stopped his endless questioning. "I’m at...Angel’s." She forced the name past her lips, grimacing as though it had left a bad taste in her mouth. She then shot a worried look at Spike, and pointed at the door. When he looked between her and the door and then back again with a puzzled frown, she rolled her eyes.

"Giles, if you see anyone outside...Angel’s when you pull up I want you to leave, okay? Even if it’s...A-Angel, okay?" She stressed the ‘okay’, making sure he understood how serious she was.

"Buffy, what’s going on? Why on earth would I drive away if I saw Angel?" Buffy was at a loss for what to say. How could she explain that Angel wasn’t Angel anymore over the phone? Especially when ‘Angel’ could return at any moment.

"Please, Giles. Just...please?" Her quiet pleading obviously got through to the man on the other end of the phone.

"I’ll be right there." Then he was gone, the dial tone buzzing quietly.

"He’s..." Buffy cleared her throat gently. "Giles is coming."

"If you’re worried ‘bout Angelus showin’ up, don’t bother." A slight bitterness crept into his tone. "He’s bein’ ‘entertained’ by Dru." He spat the word ‘entertained’ out angrily.

"Enterta—" Her small, delicate features crumbled up in silent agony again. "Oh..." She whispered almost silently.

Spike felt like the biggest wanker on the planet.

He wheeled his chair closer to her, unsure of how to comfort her and how much comfort she would accept from him, if any.

Gently he reached out his hand, watching her face all the while, and placed it over her hand that was resting on the bed. She did flinch lightly, but he had expected as much, yet she didn’t pull away. He carefully ran his thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing motion.

"I’m sorry." The words shocked him. He hadn’t seen that coming. Why would she feel sorry? He was the one that had hurt her by opening his unthinking mouth and shoving his foot in it.

"What?"

"I’m sorry." Her words stronger this time, "I’m sorry that this has to hurt you as well, I never thought..." She trailed off.

"Hey, listen to me." He squeezed her hand just a fraction tighter. "You have nothin’ to apologize for, kitten. It’s that bloody git that’s in the wrong."

He thought back to his initial reaction, he had come here to hurt her for something he saw as her fault. But now, seeing her after Angelus had finished his sadistic, little games, he couldn’t feel any of his previous anger. Sure he was still pissed as hell at her about the chair, but she had also helped tonight by proving that he was slowly healing.

Buffy looked deeply into his eyes, realising that if he had felt differently she wouldn’t have had the chance to apologize. The only things she saw in his azure gaze were understanding, pain and...affection? She wasn’t sure about the last one, but there was definitely warmth in his eyes she had never seen there before.

"Thank you." Her heartfelt words caused a foreign flush of heat to flame within him, and he thanked whoever was listening that he couldn’t blush.

"No problem, Slayer." His voice was once again rough, as though he were trying to mantain his Big-Bad image. She smiled at him as he averted his eyes, but almost whimpered at the loss of his hand on hers as he leaned back in his chair. "Now, we’d best be off."

He wasn’t sure how they were going to work this, fortunately his hard-on from earlier had abated slightly, so it wouldn’t be as obvious. But he wasn’t sure how long that would last if she crawled onto his lap, the scent of her blood still strong, her warm body nestled against his.

"So, how we gunna work this?"

"Erm...I could try walking?" She made it sound like a question, but started trying to get to her feet anyway. Woozily she stood, before she started to fall backwards towards the bed.

The next thing she knew, she was secure in Spike’s arms, sitting across his lap, and his face mere centimetres from hers. Fighting the rising panic the closeness caused, she waited to see what he would do.

Spike cradled her softly in his arms, trying not to cause her more pain. Then he noticed how close their faces were, and the panic flooding her eyes. He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and moved her down to rest more firmly on his thighs, which seemed to calm her as the distance between their faces increased.

"Heh, thanks...again." She said light-heartedly, he had after all just saved her from the probable unconsciousness that would have followed her fall.
Nodding once he turned to the door, as he began to wheel the chair forward he felt Buffy beginning to slip of his lap, she quickly threw her arms around his neck, casting him a shy smile before averting her eyes.

She unclasped her hands from the back of his neck as they reached the door, using one of them to twist the door handle then fling the door open. She then returned her hand to its previous position and held on.
Spike, quicker now, wheeled them down the narrow hallway and out into the dark, cool night. He sniffed the air. Dawn was fast approaching and he knew he didn’t have time to reach the factory before it broke over the horizon.

"Where’s your Watcher, sweets?"

She peered out from where she hoped she had, inconspicuously, placed her head; in the nook between his neck and shoulder. She spotted Giles' old, banger of a car straight away.

"Just over there. I can walk from here...I think." Her voice was hesitant.

"I’ll stay here ‘til you get in, yeh? I’ll be able to catch you again if you feel like takin’ a tumble." He chuckled lightly.

"Okay." Her voice was small and quiet. She looked up into his eyes, then leaned in unexpectedly and kissed his cheek quickly. Pulling away just as quick, she kept her gaze on her legs. "Thank you, Spike. I... Thank you." Her words caused a strange clogging feeling to claim Spike’s throat, so instead of speaking he nodded his head sharply.

Gently he lifted her body away from his, placing her feet first on the floor, she rose the rest of the way herself, somewhat unsteadily.

Wincing she took her first step towards the Citroen that was waiting for her, she knew Giles still couldn’t see her so she allowed a grimace of pain to flash on her face. Limping her way forward she knew when she became visible, as the door of Giles’ car swung open and with a gasp her Watcher raced towards her.

"Buffy? My God, what’s happened?" His tone was anxious, and Buffy wondered how bad she must look.

"Can we just—" She gasped in pain. "Can we just get to the car please, Giles."

"Of course." He helped her gently to his car, wincing every time she gasped and flinched in pain. Carefully she lowered herself, with Giles’ help into the car; he carefully fastened the seatbelt around her.

After gently securing his Slayer, Giles walked with a quickened pace to his side of the car. Getting in and gunning the reluctant engine to life, he looked over at the battered and bruised girl in his passenger seat. He swore to himself that whoever had done this would pay dearly. He pulled away from the parking spot and drove towards his apartment.

Buffy stared out of the window, pressing her hand against the cool glass. She smiled when she saw a flash of platinum blonde fly by the fast moving car.

Spike smiled at her as she looked out the window for him, her hand pressed tightly against the glass. He watched until the banged up, old Citroen rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. He sat there for a while, contemplating the new developments and what they would mean for not only him but for the Slayer and Angelus too.


Personally he couldn’t wait to find out.




TBC