Taste of Juliet
by Megan
Chapter Forty-One
It was an awkward walk from the flat to the secret entrance of the Initiative. A tall, reserved brunette flanked either side of the Professor as she attempted to accept that her project would be very soon deactivated.
“Buffy said that Adam gets his power from a uranium core inside his chest?”
Giles was shivering a little from the chill in the air and was determined that after all the trauma of the past few weeks, at least one source of worry would be eliminated. They needed to concentrate on Spike; returning him to form. His lips twisted in a satisfied smirk that Spike himself would be proud of. He was grateful that the problem of the chip removal was already taken care of. With a little luck, this sojourn into the Initiative base would be their one and only.
Maggie Walsh merely nodded, not eager to encourage conversation with her captors just grateful that she would soon be free. She briefly considered activating Adam before he was complete so he could take these two out and rid her of their interference. The memory of Riley, Forrest and Graham giving her looks of disgust and betrayal stopped her though, and she felt cold with the knowledge that this project might have easily gotten out of control and hurt the people that she had been trying to save.
Darkness shadowed every step that they took, beyond blackened and looming trees, jutting out headstones, and dewy brittle grass. The night reeked of the supernatural and of monsters. She shivered with past memories of childhood fears and nightmares.
The Professor had not found it necessary to come and go from headquarters at this entrance, but her intent study of all maps of the Initiative gave her a good theoretical knowledge. She found the entrance without the smallest hint of difficulty.
Though tingles of caution set Angel’s muscles flexing, he held onto her arm as she took them through the tunnel. Once they made it through, they hit an almost blinding light. Angel gripped her arm almost savagely, not allowing her to move forward while he allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness. He allowed his senses to seek knowledge and make sure they wouldn’t walk into a group of soldiers with guns and be done for before their mission had even begun.
He heard only a few heartbeats and none too close by so with a not so gentle nudge he pushed her forward, Giles bringing up the rear while holding his crossbow at attention.
“You get us to Adam without running interference, and I won’t kill you. If Giles gets killed in any attempt to doublecross us, I’ll have you drained before they could get a taser near me. Understand?”
His eyes were hardened black with glinting amber flecks of determined rage. The knowledge of the retribution to come when they found they could do nothing for the other vampire chilled her heart to a moment of inactivity, and she gasped suddenly and grasped her chest. Struggling to continue breathing - though the fear overwhelmed her, she nodded decisively and headed to the door marked 314. Maggie’s pass was always with her and she took it out smartly, swiping it with regret and lead the way into the room.
The horrified gasp came from Giles as he finally set eyes on the monster that they had the chance to stop before it could wreak havoc. He was put together from human and demon parts like a giant jigsaw puzzle, and now he understood Buffy’s references to Frankenstein.
“Where did you get the human?” He didn’t really want an answer and so was relieved when she stubbornly remained silent.
Angel said nothing, just clenched his jaw in disbelief that a human could be so unbelievably stupid to create something so hideous. Then again, she had somehow managed to revert Spike back to a prehistoric demon, perhaps one of the first to walk the earth. She was dangerous with knowledge and cunning; he and Giles would have to decide what to do with her before he left again for LA. She couldn’t be allowed to remain free for fear she could take this experiment up again. It was a topic that Buffy would have to remain ignorant of, but he knew that Giles would help him do what had to be done. Having settled it in his mind, he turned to her, his face so engraved with hate and disgust that she shrank back a little against her creature.
With an earthshaking growl, Angel lifted the axe he had brought with him, raising it like lightening over his head and appeared to slice it directly at the woman unknowingly shielding 314. With a terrified scream, she dove to the side and the blade of the axe embedded into the chest of the hybrid demon on the gurney. Angel surged forward with another battle cry and slammed his fist into wet, squishy tissue, ripping out a metallic cylinder from its breast. He held it triumphantly in the air. Angel turned to the woman shaking with fear on the floor and took a moment to let his demon relish her scent. Not looking back, he handed the uranium core to Giles, then swung the axe back at the gurney and allowed his destructive side full rein on the abomination. Anger, and hurt, and fear came to the fore and he howled out his misery at the decimated state of his Childe, the loss of his girlfriend, and his demotion in rank with the Scoobies.
By the time he felt his demon begin to calm, Adam lay in a multitude of pieces around the room, gory tissue shredded beyond repair. He sighed with evil satisfaction. Turning once again to the Professor, he grinned at her now red lab coat, and the stringy strips of intestines that dangled from her ashy hair. With a rare laugh, he turned to Giles to see if he was also amused at the sight. The only option was a full burst of hilarity. Dripping from every square inch of the watcher’s jeans and jacket were slices of demon skin and metallic looking wiring. His glasses were splattered with blood and he was currently swiping his face with a hanky usually reserved for the always smudged lenses.
“So, whaddaya think? Should we bag him and take the remains with us, in case they get any more ideas?” The amusement drained abruptly from Angel’s lips as he jerked his head back to Professor Walsh, still cowering on the floor. He received a nod of assent and Giles quickly began to seek something in the room adequate to collect together as much of the remains as possible for later burning.
As Giles took charge of that detail, Angel lowered himself to the Professor’s level and allowed his demon to own his features for a little longer. She shrank back in a mix of terror and revulsion, and he felt the stirring of revenge deep inside. Angel had never felt so torn against his soul to punish a human as he did since meeting her, and was angrier because of it. The precarious hold he had on his soul always worried him, but lately, he felt the control slipping and knew he had to find a way sometime soon to anchor it before he possibly managed to lose it and go on another rampage.
As Giles finished and took a place by the door, indicating his readiness to escape, Angel took a vicious hold of her arm and hauled her from the floor.
“You didn’t think this was the end did you, Professor? We have another demon difficulty to resolve.”
He turned quickly and caught the evil glimmer in the other man’s eyes. With this encouragement from Ripper, he would have even more difficulty keeping himself under control. His need to rip out her throat was charging his body with overwhelming strength, and he dropped her arm, suddenly scared. Grabbing the bag from Giles, he thrust the woman at him, before opening the door and sensing their safety before leading the way out.
In single file they retraced their steps, a wary Angel in the front. Adrenaline surged through the two men as they heard voices heading in their direction, but as they rounded the corner, weapons raised, it was only Finn and his two cohorts that they encountered. Riley raised his hands at the sudden confrontation, and they all stopped, not saying a word for several torturous seconds.
With a whoosh Giles released his held breath and stepped forward, knowing instinctively that Riley would have difficulties taking instruction from a vampire.
“We have destroyed project 314,” he told them, holding up the clear thick plastic containing the gory remains. The soldiers didn’t even flinch, but nodded while still refraining from activating weapons.
“We still need her. For Spike.” The voice that spoke to them was hard and steely and they knew better than to challenge a Master Vampire solid and vengeful in front of them, so nodded, allowing them to continue their passage to the cemetery exit.
As they left, the feeling of dread had dissipated and with a lighter heart, Giles pushed the woman toward his flat so that they could at last get some rest. And just like that, Maggie Walsh realised that she had been stupid to be relieved at being free. The knowing spark in the vampire’s eye was enough to tell her that she would never be free again.
As the thought of her own death wound tightly around her heart she again gasped and clutched at the thumping muscle beneath her breast and had the insane pleasure of knowing that she would outwit them first with her own natural death. She collapsed in a lifeless heap on that dark, but brittle grass, clouded by the darkened shadows of night.
Chapter Forty-Two
Buffy ached. For the past ten hours straight Spike had taken every part of her in electrifying possession until her voice was hoarse and her limbs limp. She was exhausted. Every time he had made love to her and reached fruition he had gently sunk his fangs into her, taking small sips of her powerful blood, and shared another word as it was revealed to him.
“Love.”
“Home.”
“Hope.”
“Mate.”
“Yours.”
“Mine.”
“Beautiful.”
With each revelation her tears flowed anew, her heart flooded with devotion as he licked and kissed her exposed skin. His hands had wandered, sketching odd shapes and promises over her flesh until delicious chills pushed all concept of reality from her mind. Her night had become flushed with images of the past, the claim making its impact with renewed influences of power and possession. She saw him as human, foppish hair and clothing dating him more than his tremendous knowledge of life currently did. She saw and recognised his first love and the harsh way she had treated him and his meeting with Drusilla, and Angelus. She saw the secrets- the things that Angel had never shared with her- the understanding of why he called himself Spike’s Sire. Flashes of knowing came to her throughout the night, right up until his entry to Sunnydale. She saw him watch her dance, watch her fight on video, saw his attention to Dru; his caring. But more powerful than the watching, was the feeling, for she felt every emotion joined to those flashes of his history and she felt momentarily flabbergasted. His first view of her had signaled the change, but he hadn’t recognised it. Dru’s persistent encouragement to ‘kill the Slayer’ had nothing to do with approving his reputable skill. Drusilla had seen even then that she was to lose to a blond wave of sunshine who would be the force of her White Knight’s redemption.
The final joining had been the most intense, and she could feel the opening of Spike and even feel the trust that spread between them, encouraging his soul to venture out of hiding a little more at a time until he was on the brink of returning fully. His remembrance of words did more than spark her hope. She delved into the glory of this moment, the spark of singularity and belonging of what she was experiencing totally overwhelming in its true beauty. She felt that these moments they shared were almost reverent, holy. She was accepting his spirit as his human personality swamped back to his consciousness. Finally, they had lain gasping, rocketed by the consuming bliss of being soul mates, and the burning heat of his eyes seared her flesh till it was tingling anew with anticipation. But they were at last knowing. He knew.
He knew! As Buffy’s own eyes widened in excitement she flung her arms around him and squeezed tightly. She was so relieved and grateful that he was back that she ignored the flinch of his body against hers. As he tried to pull away she held him tighter, refusing after the intense emotion of the night to allow him to withdraw from her. Her mind was blank of everything but her need to rejoice over his return. So when he finally was able to thrust her away from him- and push his way to his feet-she was in emotional lockdown, no bad memory of the past ten hours breaching the barrier holding her together.
As she looked up at him, her eyes hooded with renewed desire, it took her long moments to register that he continued to move away from her, then snagging hold of his jeans and pulling them on almost frantically. Finally she took note of the deep tormented creases on his face and sat up, clinging to the blanket that had fallen around her body.
“Spike?” she asked hesitantly.
He started at her voice, pulled back from his foray into the past with a grimace.
“How…how could you let me do that to you?”
“Do what?” She was genuinely confused, a horrible sense of fear that things were about to be blown sky high. As his hand swung wildly, finger gesturing her lack of clothing and the bites all over her body. He was speechless too soon after regaining the ability to speak.
“Angel!” He bit the name out with a residue of fury and loathing, and with a thud she came back to the event that had inspired the frenzy of sex. She sighed in defeat, knowing that the train wreck had begun its crash off the rails, and she had no way of halting its progress. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, sparking another burst of his helpless anger.
“Spike? I love you.”
It took the wind abruptly out of his sails and he fell to his knees, his head bowed. When he raised his face to hers his eyes were filled with tears.
“I raped you!”
The exclamation was nasty and she flinched.
“No, you really didn’t.”
They stared defiantly at each other, both refusing to lose in the staredown.
“I threw you to the ground, ripped the clothes from your struggling body and fucked you senseless. Funny, but pretty bloody sure that counts as rape. I did it to you again.” At first his voice had held strong to the rage- and the self-condemnation he was determined to cling to- but by the end his voice was so quiet she had to lean forward to catch the last syllable. When she did she straightened her back with purpose, ready to shoot him down the next time something stupid came out of his mouth.
“First, you never raped me. The future you attempted to rape me because I had confused you to the point of madness. I am not angry about something I have not experienced.” She smiled at him in encouragement, but slapped her knee in frustration when he refused to look at her. “Second, you weren’t you earlier. Maggie Walsh took everything away from you except your base need to survive and be a demon. She made your soul hide for protection. But Spike, she failed. You didn’t hurt any of us. As soon as you tasted me you didn’t even try to hurt anyone. Third, you did scare me, but I understand why you attacked me like that. You tasted something of me in Angel’s blood and you had to protect your property. I was the mate of a pure demon, Spike. Human, all-Chosen Slayer Buffy. I belonged to your demon, Spike, and he made no attempt to hurt me or turn me. To tell you the truth, I’m in awe of the love and protection your demon has for me.”
He was still silent and she dropped the blanket and crawled forward so that she was right before him. She placed both her hands on either side of his face, pleased when he growled at the sight of her naked body before him.
“It was a good thing, Spike.” She leaned forward and left a tiny, fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth, feeling powerful at the catch of his breath. “Now I know for sure I can trust the demon.”
His hands went around her, skimming the curve of her hip and bottom, winding around a thigh until he coerced one leg up over him. As her lips found his, she used them with her tongue to repeat her assurances, feeling giddy with need at his emotional response. She allowed her hand to fall, gently brushing over his erection before popping the stud of his jeans and sliding the zipper down. The heaviness of his hard cock felt at home in her hand as she squeezed him, swallowing his tortured groan down her throat.
Slowly rubbing against him was no longer enough, the fire between her legs becoming slick and needy as she rubbed her protruding nipples against the hard perfection of his chest, and she finally sunk down and swallowed him whole. As she moved up and down, her body held enough away to allow her nipples to rub against him in slow, obliterating torture. She felt the pressure build and her eyes grew heavy with intent. His hands cupped her rear and began to pull her hard onto him and the ache began to reassert itself.
Her hands slid over his skin, from his neck over his shoulders and down his ribs until she finally wound them round his back and pulled herself closer. Her mouth found his neck and licked a spot up high, just below his ear. Licking soon became too passive and the nibbles she bestowed found their mark in his elicit growls. Buffy felt the cramping tightness of her skin, the clenching of her stomach muscles as she tried to hold off, but she was so prepared for him always that the smallest touch of his cool skin against hers set her on fire. Their stunning cries of release coincided with the sudden slam of the front door, and they smiled into each other’s eyes as they heard Angel and Giles shouting at each other. Their panting recovery and quick visit to the paradise they found in each other blocked out the actual words from the other room, and they surrendered to a new understanding and comfort.
It was okay. They had broken records tonight. They had broken curses. And they had broken the hold of the Initiative woman who had tried to destroy them all. With an exhausted sigh that Buffy felt was becoming repetitive, she kissed Spike’s neck before pulling a bag toward herself and locating some clothes.
“Shower first, then I guess we’d better come up with a plan to take out Adam.”
Spike stared at her in admiration mixed in with something stronger. Adoration.
Another brief kiss and she stood, allowing his deflated member to slip from inside her.
“You wanna come with?”
Standing, with an old brown blanket wrapped around her good bits, Spike had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. With a cocky grin, he leapt to his feet while firmly tucking himself back into his pants.
“Very cheeky, luv.”
Holding hands, they silently opened the door and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom, feeling sneaky as they bypassed Angel and Giles still arguing in the kitchen. They allowed the water to run a little too long as they got caught up in some more kissing, then got to the business of cleansing their bodies of ten hours of continuous sex.
Chapter Forty-Three
“We’re in a bloody mess now then, aren’t we?”
Giles angrily drilled his fingers on the smooth surface of the dining table as he occasionally swished back a mouthful of scotch. His frustration was etched indelibly around his mouth, and his eyes flashed in cranky admiration every time they fell on the figure of a very brooding vampire. Angel sat hunched over, his head in his hands.
“What the hell are we gonna do now?” His voice was almost whiny in the inflection of panic and he suddenly threw his hands in the air, got abruptly to his feet and then stood shockingly still.
“I still can’t believe you nearly plowed that axe through her head. And the way she jumped aside …and then all painted in gore; those are some images that I will hold dear.” Giles burst into tipsy laughter and received an amused but slightly shocked look from Angel.
“She is dead, you know. I put on my bad act and shocked the shit out of her.”
Giles looked at the straight face of the blaspheming vampire and couldn’t hold onto the hilarity. He chuffed his amusement, revealing that he had already done more than sip a single glass of scotch before taking a seat at the table.
The sound of the halt of rushing water from the shower had them quickly calming down, not wanting to be involved in insensitive laughter when Buffy emerged from the bathroom. She needed their support right now, not to mention some brilliant ideas on how to cure Spike. Unfortunately, thought Giles, now that the wicked witch of the west had carked it, they were hardly likely to come up trumps in the near future.
As they prepared to face Buffy when she emerged from the bathroom, their earlier tension again rose to entwine them with invisible restraints. The images of the night, though satisfying every bloodthirsty impulse for revenge that Giles could call to his alter-ego, were dashed with freezing water in view of the further problems they were yet to embark upon.
Buffy’s quiet giggles caused dual frowns from the men awaiting her appearance, and they wondered if she had cracked from the emotional turmoil of and-her recent experiences. When she finally surfaced, all clean and refreshed Angel and Giles swallowed hard-holding the hand of the resident bleached Big Bad in disbelief.
“ ‘ello blokes.” Spike grinned at their matching stunned expressions and waited patiently for each one to drag his jaw from the floor.
“Ho-how, when, I mean, um, what happened?” Giles was the first to recover and as realisation finally sank in he grinned like a delirious fool. He felt happy. The smile faltered as he contemplated why exactly he felt happy, then with a simple 'what the hell' accepted it and went back to being happy.
“Why Rupert, you should know that lots of quality shagging can cure a man of all his ills!”
Giles spluttered his surprise and embarrassment at the comment and proceeded to smear the already smudged glass lenses in his grimy handkerchief.
It took this action for Buffy to take in the appearance of the other two men, and she turned her nose up delicately.
“Ewwww, what on earth have you two been up to?”
“Whatever it was, it sure looked like fun.” Spike pouted his jealousy.
Angel could not tear his eyes away from his Childe. His senses picked up the hesitancy that was well concealed, and he knew that Spike was trying to cover the unease he felt about the mode of his recovery with opinionated bravado. For the most part, it seemed to throw them all off track. Choosing to not comment on the night spent locked behind the study door, he strode forward and gathered Spike in an uncharacteristic hug. Without saying one word he stepped back and the vampires nodded to each other in understanding and gratitude. From a connection over a century old, they communicated their apologies and acceptance, then let it go. Angel felt a wash of tension fall from his back and determined to show his affection for his family more often. Not his hate and intolerance.
Buffy slipped an arm around Spike’s waist and leaned into him to both comfort him and feel it returned. Cocking her brow at the oblivious two seemed to be ignored, so she chose to remind them that there had been a topic of conversation current.
“Giles. Watcha been doing?”
“Well, funny story really,” he began, a nervous grin twitching his lips. Within half an hour the story was told, accompanied by intermittent expressions of horror, outrage and guilt, with a little touch of remorse, though that last only came from Buffy.
“Whew.” Buffy collapsed back in Spike’s lap now that they occupied a comfy seat on the sofa. “So, that seemed easy. I like this knowing of the future. Giles, did you write a list of all the things Spike and I told you about the other events in the future?”
With a new preoccupation Giles stood and went to locate his writing pad that contained a large list of garbled events. He frowned momentarily; his glasses were too smudged to aid him in deciphering the blurred events written on the page. He jumped as the phone rang, wondering who would be ringing at such an ungodly hour.
Giles snagged the receiver with a sense of dread and listened to the cultured tones of a Watcher from over the ocean, letting him know that Faith was on the loose.
“Oh dear,” he exclaimed, attempting again to polish lenses filthy with demon guts and blood. He seemed completely unaware as he contemplated the list again, and recognised that this must be when Faith would try to swap bodies with Buffy.
“What does ‘Oh dear,’ mean in a fit?” Spike seemed eager to catch up on all his missed wit in one session, but the question had weighed on the mind of all present in the flat.
“It means that we have to stop Faith from trying to take over Buffy’s body.”
In sudden awareness, Spike jumped to his feet. “Too bloody right we have to stop her. How about we keep Buffy here while Peaches and I go and find her?”
Angel and Giles wore matching expressions of concern.
“Don’t you think you should take some time to get yourself together before you go rushing back out to the fight?”
Spike knew Angel was right, but that didn’t prevent the slope of his shoulder dip in resignation. He nodded his head in the supplication of a Childe, just this once feeling thankful for Angel’s curious support. He sat back beside Buffy and curled her hand in his. His eyes remained fixed on the floor and Buffy looked at him in worry, but the belief that her mother might remain in danger if she didn’t quickly arrive to face off with Faith made her switch her focus.
“I think she goes to my house first. That’s where I saw the switch happen.”
“Okay, then I go to your place. I still have an invite, don’t I? In case your mother won’t let me inside?”
Buffy could hear the hurt in Angel’s voice, the fear that she had already barred him from every corner of her life, even if it was just the freedom to enter her home. She smiled reassuringly at him, and nodded her assent.
“Don’t let her grab your hand. I’m pretty sure she can’t swap her essence with a vampire, or even that she would want to. But you can never tell what might happen if she tries it.”
With a decisive move to the door, Angel grabbed hold of his coat and melted into the night. Everyone remained quiet, Giles again taking his place at the table and nursing another glass of scotch. Belatedly his eyes fell on the excluded vampire and he filled another glass and passed it over. The two men exchanged a comfortable smile and Giles once again sat back, and began to giggle. Then he laughed. And roared with such an intense sense of fun that he had Buffy and Spike sharing in his amusement.
“What?” Buffy called the query out amidst a heavy burst of giggles and Giles struggled to gain some control.
“Her face!” He spluttered helplessly. “She thought Angel was going to split her head open with the axe. Oh God, the look on her face.” He chuckled a little more then suddenly became grimly serious. “But she is dead now so I suppose it is ill to make fun of her.” His eyes twinkled as he caught Spike’s amused twist of lips, and fell again into a spate of hilarity.
Buffy rolled her eyes and just thanked God that she had her boyfriend back in one piece, and that this time Faith wasn’t going to use her body as a raving ho machine. Sighing in relieved contentment, she lay back against a hard shoulder; waiting for Angel to return with Faith she closed her eyes and drifted off.
Chapter Forty-Four
Blooming roses stood out everywhere, once fresh scarlet petals drifting from cut stems as if deprived of life. They fell and littered the floor while writhing brunettes crushed them: naked they claw, and bite and fuck beyond human capability. With a graceful calm, the male stills his thrusting to spread his strong fingers over the smooth whiteness of her throat, adding pressure to the squeeze as her lustful eyes faded into terror, unrevealed in the sickly sweet smile that seizes her face. As her breath is cut off, the smile remains. Fangs take a vicious, hungry bite from her exposed column, blood tracking down in a thick river to crest her large breast through force of volume alone, swirling erotically around the rock hard nipple before dripping with finality over the top and to the ribs.
The girl takes gasping breaths as the hands finally allow her freedom, her head turned to the side to avoid the acid look of the ridged face leering down at her. The head falls and a tongue flicks out to lap at the pools of blood, occasionally teeth scraping at the rosebud of her breast causing new rivulets of the reddest rush of fluid. She was mutilated, and loving it. In a turn, their faces became clear, and for just one second it was Faith before her dark glossy curls faded to blond, and the figure became one who had been determined dust a long time before. But the man remained the same, pumping his angry crimson, engorged cock to and fro from her cavity. The face a twisted parody of an angel, the blissful acceptance of vampire. Darla, her face enraged but eager, moaning and rubbing against his hard body, fingers stroking the ridges almost with affection.
Her body visibly shudders with completion before thrusting the man away with great power. He snarls as he stalks back to her but her face changes and she jumps to her feet, snarling in return. They circle each other warily, both naked to the core, lust and affection clashing across the divide. Enough, they lunge for each other’s neck and fangs sink in, breast pressed against defined chest muscles and tanned skin, cock held viselike between two milky white thighs. No blood gushes, but both swallow greedily before the fucking continues, once again falling to the pillow of falling rose petals, and one word is screamed when a peak is once again obtained.
“Angelus.”
A screaming Buffy hit the floor in a terrified tangle with a thump. Immediately she was scooped up into shaking arms and her head placed against a smooth shoulder. She gave in to the knowledge, her fear pushing beyond herself as she tried to dig herself into the skin pressed against her face.
“Oh God,” she began almost hopelessly. “Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God…” the line repetitive and heedless as the misery overwhelmed and she became lost in memory and death. Innocent, needless death. Jenny’s death. She rocked against the arms holding her tight, her coherence for the moment disappearing in a cloud of expectation that she wasn’t yet ready to share.
The sound of a door shutting and hesitant steps breached her introspective state, and her memories faded slowly like vanilla ice-cream. Not fast like double chocolate, and for that her anger built until it flashed the fences she had begun to erect, and Determined! Buffy finally entered the building. She raised her face, beyond embarrassed that she had allowed herself to become so overwhelmed by the dream, and she stood, determination rolling off her like ‘out-of- control’ surf.
“What happened?” Giles directed the question to Buffy, but his eyes strayed to the worried expression transforming the face of the blond vampire. His eyes caught the troubled shake of Spike’s head as Buffy tried to grab hold of words.
“It was a Slayer dream, I think.” Her voice was low, deadly almost in its dislike.
The men were left to wonder what dislike had tainted so sharply her earlier happiness.
For all of three seconds.
“Angelus,” she spat, and their understanding was immediate and chilling.
Giles, now clean of demon grunge, sat wearily in his armchair and found a fresh hanky, glasses aiding his thoughtful movements. The activity for some reason heightened his thinking skills, and also watered down unwanted images- much like a half bottle of scotch was likely to do. And with images of a lifeless Jenny posed erotically on his bed suddenly swimming in his head, he decided right now was the perfect time to resume his earlier drinking.
As they all sat quiet, contemplative, they were unprepared for the bang of the opening door and the entrance of a really pissed off Faith and a sheepish Angel. Faith took one step away from her captor and collapsed at his feet as his fist connected with her face. Already she was deformed from bruises and swelling, and with silent cooperation she was trussed up and tied to a chair, much like Maggie Walsh had been earlier.
Her defeated posture sent a sigh of relief through those gathered, and they at last felt confident enough to turn their backs away to find repose.
Buffy’s calm was short-lived, and though the buzzing that electrified her danger senses had her nearly bouncing into conflict, Angel ignored her as he turned to the Watcher and wondered aloud what was to become of her.
Giles rubbed his hand across his face in defeat. It would be a miracle to ever sleep again. Looking hard into the steady stare of the brunette, he told them exactly what the Council plans would be- bolstered by his knowledge of what actually happened from Buffy’s visions- and felt a sense of satisfaction at Faith’s frightened quailing.
His quick glimpse to the side revealed an unfocused Slayer, one who reeked of tension, and Giles recalled those startling moments before Angel had arrived, and the name Angelus jumped back to the forefront of his mind. He was positive it was Angel sitting before him now, and he let out the held breath he had unconsciously pulled in with the anticipation of a fight to defend their lives.
Angel stood in front of them-statuesque in stillness-his face a mask of concern as he looked from one altered expression to the other. No one spoke; no one sought to fill him in on the change that had occurred since the last moment he was in front of them before departing to retrieve Faith. Nervousness rushed up through his groin to his throat, and his demon tickled his conscience with a promise of lust and darkness. His eyes captured the love and closeness between his now souled Childe and ex-girlfriend, and he felt his control once again compromised by a challenge for dominance. Angelus clawed, scratched- but he continued to hold the evil at bay. His body went rigid from the struggle and he noticed with a sense of growing alarm Spike’s eyes caught his in query.
The draw to darkness had never been so great while with soul, until he found his Childe battered and hiding behind the ravages of time, stripped of all that made him Spike. His thirst for blood had taken him unawares, and he was horrified to admit quietly to himself that he had felt shifts, just subtle and fleeting, but shifts nonetheless, to Angelus. There had been moments, the demon had pushed humanity to the side and triumphed.
His eyes caught and held the shimmering but enlightened green pools of misery that belonged to Buffy, and his pathetic need to hide and lick his wounds became a force to be answered.
“Do you want the Council to take her?” He asked Giles the question, knowing that despite the history with the Slayer, no one in the room really wanted her to end with the Council sweeper team.
“No.” His answer was brief, to the point. Watching for the next sign as tension became a tangible thickness in the room.
“Good.” Angel went to the heavily restrained girl, and lifted her over his shoulders. “I’ll take her with me. We’ll sort something out. Maybe I can help her.”
Without discussion, without consent, he left them alone and gaping.
With Buffy’s face reflecting understanding and dawning fear.
Chapter Forty-Five
Author’s Note: Oh Boy...where do I start...
This is the end...of Taste of Juliet...the final chapter...but THERE WILL BE a sequel...eventually.
Huge thanks go to Holly without whose friendship and encouragement (and awesome betaing skills) I would never have let this story leave my head, let alone my computer. Holly, I love you to bits, thank you so much. It means more than you could ever know. Thanks also go to enigmaticblue, who picked up her fair share of my grammatical crap and kept me from embarrassment.
Next, Mandi at Vampire’s Kiss, the very first person to take a risk at posting my story. My first reviews at your site knocked me out...literally! And your banner skills are definitely my gain...I love everything you've ever made for me.
Also bloodshedbaby for inducting me into her site, and her amazing enthusiasm.
Lastly, thank you my gentle viewers...(*snicker*)...the readers got me the rest of the way, and your reviews lighten my heart.
Now sit back and enjoy, always keeping in mind that their WILL be a sequel, as well as a new story within the next couple of days...so keep your eyes peeled.
“Are you bloody kids mental?”
Spike sat forward, hands flexing through his hair and on the verge of tearing out a couple of sizeable chunks. All chatter stopped and focused upon him, and all of a sudden he shrank back not entirely comfortable with being in the spotlight, even if that had been his regular position over the past weeks.
“Well excuse me, Dead Boy Junior, but try and see this from our side. We’ve never been excluded from the action; always been part of the plan, the follow-through, the muck-up, and hey, even the hospital run, particularly for yours truly. So don’t go getting down on us for feeling a little miffed that Big Vamp Daddy-O and Pappa Giles went and had all the fun. Where’s the Apocalypse? Nada! Bupkis! All out, Senoritas! They didn’t even take photos. We now just have a supremely boring summer ahead of us.” Xander slumped back in his seat, defeated.
A second later and Spike followed posture. “Yeah. Always like my vicarious spots of violence. Then he took hold of that whole Faith bird situation and adios. Back to L.A. Ponce never could share.”
The crowded room nodded with him in sympathy, their earlier feelings of betrayal slightly dampened by the vampire’s obvious misery.
The Scoobies had thrashed their way into Giles’s place the moment the sun had set, bringing maps, laptops and other paraphernalia deemed important in the take down of a monster of Frankenstein proportions. Their nervous energy, laced with giddy excitement, came to an abrupt end when Spike announced that Adam had bit the big one-due to the dynamic duo of Angel and Giles- and that the “‘kiddies’ should all calm themselves down so some of us can honour the broody one in peace and bloody quiet!”
Their simultaneous deflation was almost comical, and Buffy nearly felt sorry for them, until she got that twinge that reminded her that she had been kept in the dark about the mission as well. Admittedly she had other things on her mind at the time. Like possessive-primitive vampire boyfriends who found it necessary to invade her body with every physical implement he possessed. But still, she wasn’t used to sitting on the side while others took over her job. Actually, it was kind of nice, once she really thought about it. But it better not ever happen again.
Thinking was really taking over her night, though. They had all chosen to relocate to the Summers’s house, thanks in large part to access to lots of soda, chips, and the important technology like a current television and DVD machine. These points were so far up on Giles’s abode that the move had brooked no argument.
So, though some movie off the ‘newest release’ shelf was currently flashing on the screen, no one paid it the smallest bit of attention while the argument of everyone’s worth within the Scooby Gang raged on. The occasional comment from Buffy was enough to divert everyone’s attention from her introspective stance, except for the veiled knowing gaze of an almost-healed Spike, and she allowed herself to dedicate some of her attention to the things that bothered her.
There was something about Angel that gave her a sense of unease; that sent chills up and down her arms whenever she remembered that look in his eye, the slump of his body, the shadow of darkness that seemed to cling to him from the moment he had renewed acquaintance with Spike. She was afraid that his jealousy might begin to push him over the edge, or that he might take risks with his soul. She wasn’t sure though. There had been no vision detailing events with Angel, so she was in the dark as to what to expect with him. She only knew that something was wrong, and it bothered her. It bothered her a great deal.
She felt quite overwhelmed with how easy it had been to eradicate Adam, and with the special project out of the bag- so to speak- the Initiative problem was pretty much wrapped up and no longer her concern. The ease of the whole thing made her feel slightly ill. It was Buffy’s normal experience that things did not go so easily. She felt monumentally torn. Was this the Powers That Be rewarding them for many years of service by allowing her and Spike to change the events of the world? Or was something very big about to go ‘Boo’, and knock them all out of their ivory tower?
Her reverie was interrupted with Giles affirming the time for a little housekeeping. His big flowery, monotone speech left Buffy feeling like she was strolling through liquid air- slow and weighed down- until she heard the word ‘magic’. And another of her concerns seemed about to be dealt with, bringing her lethargic mental abilities sharply into focus.
“I have made arrangements for Willow and Tara to take instruction at the Coven in England. Apparently they have felt a growing force from Sunnydale for quite some time. They were a little, um, annoyed, that I haven’t sought their advice earlier than now.” Giles rubbed his glasses in embarrassment, quickly tucking the hanky back in his pocket and propping the glasses on his nose when his colour softened and he was ready to continue. “I know that you probably think that we are being extreme with sending you out of the country, Willow…”
“I don’t understand why I need that much help, anyway.”
“It’s all very well to master the basics, but you have already made some very damaging mistakes and need to learn control. You would never embark on any of your science experiments or…ahh…computing whatsimajigs…without the proper knowledge and instruction. Would you?”
Willow bowed her head and accepted his wish. Then, in normal Willow perkiness, she looked on the bright side and thought of all that England weather and culture- not to mention magical atmosphere.
Giles sighed in relief, having achieved one of his goals, and sank back to let the others have their moment. What with all the bruised egos from being left out of the fight he was positively bewildered and exhausted.
Once they had all settled down again and turned to focus on the movie that was more than half way over, Buffy continued to think of the things that bothered her. She had to finish up college for the year and she had already missed so many classes. Not to mention that one of her Professors was dead. And as luck would have it, she was doing well in Professor Walsh’s class. The pout that settled on her lips was quickly seized by an attentive Spike, his eyes having remained on her rather than the movie, her troubled facial expressions building a cloak of unease around her that he was hesitant to cross.
He sucked her pouty lip into his mouth, his playful tongue flicking it gently before letting it ‘pop’ from between his lips. His playfulness earned him his reward and she smiled at him. She took his hand, looked into his eyes briefly-though long enough to identify his concern- then tucked herself into his side so that he could no longer plainly see her face.
With the loss of his scrutiny, she returned to the bigger problems, and admittedly the one she had continued to put off all night. Glory and Dawn. A sense of foreboding had captured her earlier, or probably from the moment that Angel had left with Faith. It escalated in power whenever she thought of the Key that was to become her sister.
She wondered if her knowing would ultimately change events, so that there was either no Dawn, or a Dawn but not with Buffy as her protector. Or perhaps Glory was onto her, knew that she would be able to kill her because of her knowledge of Ben. She actually felt fear curl into a ball in the pit of her stomach at the possibility that Dawn was not to become her sister, that her mother’s illness would be a burden for her alone to carry.
Bigger yet, was her own death off the cards now? The image of her falling from a weak, shaky tower into a shattered flat of electrical energy made her shiver and she couldn’t help the reaction of her body against Spike. Knowing that he would know, she wasn’t surprised when he tightened his arm around her almost crushing the air from her lungs, and knew that he also was afraid. The tingling at her neck told her that her fears and been transferred to him; that he felt, and knew. Her death. It would be their preoccupation next year, she felt sure.
Joyce Summers, a glowing picture of health, entered the room loaded down with a tray of drinks and more snacks, and took an alarmed step back as the offerings were pounced on by what she could only describe as a rather alarmingly hungry bunch of young people. She shared an amused smile with Rupert, then took a chair and became immersed once again in the story on the screen. Buffy was sure that no one actually knew what it was all about.
Buffy looked around the room, taking in her mother, her Watcher, her lover, and friends, and rejoiced in the family that she belonged. Once she hated the burden of being the Slayer, but now she acknowledged that by being this she had captured to her the most extraordinary group of people.
She was blessed.
END
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