Buffy had always admired the table in their kitchen. It was solid oak, big enough to comfortably seat ten people and sturdy enough that you could happily throw a large demon at it with no damage; to the table, that is. She and Spike ate breakfast at it, most mornings; the sun streaming harmlessly through the necro-tempered glass of the window that looked out onto the courtyard.

‘Right little suntrap.’ Was how Spike had described the courtyard and he would happily sit at this table and watch, while Buffy - her lithe, nude body thoroughly oiled - would keep her tan topped up. The only way in or out of this private walled place, was the door from the kitchen. Buffy was safe from all but Spike’s prying eyes.

Usually, Buffy loved this table but not today. Today, if the wretched thing spontaneously fell to pieces, Buffy would be supremely happy.

Today, she was chained to it.

Face down across its wooden surface, chains from her wrists, wrapped around the thick table legs to meet underneath and join with the chains from her ankles, which held her legs immobile and, worryingly, apart.

She was naked.

Her chest throbbed, where something had hit her, something that had knocked her unconscious until she had woken up, like this. What the hell could do that?

‘It was one of those stun-gun things, pet.’

“You were mine.” Angelus said his voice full of venom.

“Huh?” Buffy said, drowsily, trying to sound weaker than she felt.

“You were Angel’s assignment from the powers. ‘Take care of her, help her out..’ they told him…” Angelus said, voice dripping with loathing, “He thought he was in love with you but it was me, the demon side, that wanted you. Not to love, not all those fake feelings but to conquer, to defile, corrupt and enslave. You would have been my master-piece.”

“What happened to you?”

“I woke up.” He laughed hideously and Buffy felt a surge of revulsion that she had ever thought herself in love with this monster. “I have that dumb bitch Darla, to thank for it.”

“Darla? You killed her; don’t you remember?” Buffy said, figuring that while he was talking, he wasn’t doing anything worse.

“You still don’t get it, Buff. Angel’s dead, gone to wherever whining do-gooders go. I am Angelus. I’m the reason Darla was brought back.”

“Huh? She got brought back? How?”

“Who cares? Some ritual. Wolfram and Hart, the greatest collection of organized demons across the dimensions, bored with having Angel as a thorn in their side but unwilling to destroy him, hoped that having her back would help me to emerge. Happily, it did but not in the way they thought.”

“I don’t understand, he lost his soul?” Buffy asked, hoping that Angelus’ ego would keep him talking.

“He was cursed but there was a get out clause. He was cursed because he was meant to suffer. Did you never wonder why he left you?”

“He wrote me. Said he left for my own good.”

“Mmm, he was telling you the literal truth. If he experienced a moment of pure happiness, his soul would be stripped from him. From me.” He trailed his fingers lightly down Buffy’s back, causing her to shudder. “He thought it would happen if he had sex with you.” He whispered, close to her ear. “Can you imagine anything more delicious? You, helpless in his arms; trusting, loving and then me; back in control. He kept me repressed, all these years but it didn’t stop me dreaming about what I’d do to you, if I got free. Oh, I could have spun your head until you didn’t know who or what you were. You thought Dru was insane… by the time I’d finished with her, she’d lost all grasp of reality. To do the same to you…” His fingers slipped lower.

“So, how..?” Buffy said, hoping to distract him and trying - unsuccessfully - to squirm away.

“They brought Darla back, to sleep with Angel and lose him his soul. It didn’t work, though. She came back human and he fell in love with her; tried to save her life when he realized she was dying, offered his own - mine - to save her. Luckily, he was thwarted. Imagine, bartering my life… then, Wolfram and Hart took her to one of their vampire clients, who obligingly sired her. Amazingly, Angel slept with her, after.”

“And got a happy?”

“Of course not. As if sleeping with an evil, soulless thing, could make someone as ‘pure’ as our Angel, happy. He woke up even more broody than ever. Darla, however had another trick up her sleeve. A baby.”

Buffy was silent. Angelus had reached the most sensitive parts of her and was lightly pinching, his short nails digging in. Every muscle of Buffy’s body was tense, as she tried not to cry out.

‘I’m with you, pet,’ Spike ‘said‘, reassuringly, ‘We’ll get out of this.’

‘How?’ Buffy was screaming inside her head, revulsion making her nauseous.

“Darla conceived.” Angelus continued, dramatically; oblivious to Buffy and Spike‘s silent conversation. “Made her go soft, having a little human parasite, inside. Or maybe it was the boy’s soul… Anyway, she staked herself and when Angel saw his baby son…”

“He experienced true happiness…”

“…and now I’m in control.” Angelus said, thrusting two fingers roughly into Buffy.

Buffy yelped at the foul violation and struggled harder. Angelus pulled his fingers out and sucked on them, thoughtfully.

“No chance of me corrupting you, now. How long have you been letting Spike in? You filthy little whore; I don’t suppose there’s any part of you still left virginal, is there? Every hole filled and stretched; no pleasure left for me.”

He lit up a cigarette, drawing deeply on it, making the tip glow red.

“But I can still enjoy you.” He said, smugly, “In ways you never dreamed of.”

He pressed the hot tip of his cigarette against the tender skin in the middle of her back. Buffy thrashed in her chains.

“Just a taster, Buff. The main event will be such sweet agony, for you. No virgin ever screamed for me, the way that you will.” With this sinister promise, he walked away.

‘What can we do?’ Buffy desperately asked Spike.

Buffy couldn’t see him but she knew, from their mental connection, that he was gagged. He was also naked, lying face down on the floor, his wrists chained behind his back and his ankles drawn painfully up behind him to meet them. He was helpless.

‘I don’t know, kitten; usually he takes his pleasure by defiling virgins. He likes it to hurt. At least your mum’s not here.’

‘The bastard. He did that to you?’ Buffy caught his memory and could almost feel how Spike had felt, that night, not long after he had been sired, when Angelus had drugged his wine, chained him to a table and violated him.

Buffy tensed involuntarily as she heard Angelus coming back.

“Tell me, Buff…” He said, his voice sounding light and happy; something Spike saw as a bad sign. “Does young Spike here, ever call you ‘pet’?”

Buffy didn’t answer, she was too distracted by the sound of Angelus plugging something into the wall socket.

“He used to call Dru ‘pet’…” He continued, “So ironic, I always thought. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?” Buffy whispered. She didn’t know what he’d plugged in and her mind was racing with horrid possibilities.

“Because he was her pet, that’s why. The thing with Dru that you have to understand…” He trailed his fingers slowly up Buffy’s left leg, as he spoke, “She wanted a playmate and, over the years, she sired quite a few. I had to put them down, though. Every single one was weak…” He slid his fingers into her again, smiling as she tensed her muscles in a vain attempt to keep him out. “Deeply flawed individuals; her ‘Sweet Willie’ here, was the last of a very long line. Do you want to hear how he survived?”

“Yes,” Buffy squeaked, as Angelus roughly twisted his fingers, to punctuate his words. She could smell scorching mixed with something sweet somewhere in the room and the smell tugged at her memory. Whatever he was planning, was going to be bad and she wanted to do anything she could to delay finding out what it was.

“Dru thralled him. He was such a worthless specimen that she actually had to suppress part of his mind. Worked rather well; he forgot the trauma of what he’d become, thought himself in love with her, took care of her and did all sorts of bad things just to please her…”

Abruptly he withdrew his hand and Buffy heard him crossing the room.

“You women are sooo vain, aren’t you.” He said, busying himself with whatever it was he’d plugged in. “Always messing with your hair, prettying yourselves up, trying to snare some unsuspecting man by pretending to be something you’re not. Making out that you’re all virginal and pure, when really you can’t wait to give it up to some worthless piece of trash; like Spike here.”

He walked over to stand in front of Buffy’s face and bent down so his mouth was close to her.

“Do you know how many nuns I’ve had?”

Buffy shook her head.

“Neither do I, it’s been sooo many. All virgins. All made a big deal about screaming as they gave it up. Do you know why they screamed? So they could convince themselves that they didn’t want it. So they could convince themselves that they didn’t love it and they died happy, knowing that they’d never have it so good again.”

He showed her the object that he had in his hand. Buffy flinched and across the room, she felt Spike’s anger climb up a few more notches.

“That’s what I wanted for you, Buff; not this. You’ve forced me to do this; it’s the only way that I’m going to get the right response from you.” He stroked the object in his hand. “These things get really hot, don’t they, Buff. Why don’t they burn your pretty hair when you‘re putting in your ringlets? The shape is sooo good, though. When I put this inside you, you’re going to sizzle and then scream like it’s your first time. By the time I have you, your insides will be swollen and blistered and sooo tight. Oh, and Buff… I’m not going to kill you. You’ll heal up and then we can do it all over again.”

Buffy stared, her eyes wide, at her curling tong. The smell of scorching mixed with traces of her styling lotion, was filling the room. Angelus had it on its highest heat setting. The thought of what he was going to do with it, filled her with unaccustomed terror. Fighting demons was one thing, this promised violation? She was almost certain that she’d rather he killed her.

‘Don’t think like that, love.’ Spike’s loving ‘voice’ filled her head, ‘I’m with you, you won’t go through it alone.’

Angelus slowly walked to stand level with Buffy’s parted legs, occasionally resting the hot tongs on the skin of her back, smirking as she struggled.

“Oh Buff, this is going to be sooo sweet.”

Buffy couldn’t help but tense every muscle in her body, as she waited for him to burn the most sensitive parts of her. She could feel the heat getting closer.

“No.” Angelus said, abruptly, “This is all wrong.”

He put the tongs down and picked up his taser.

“With you face down, like this, I can’t watch you. I need to see the pain in your eyes when it first enters you.”

He applied the taser to the back of Buffy’s neck and she went limp.

* * * * *