Living Vengeance
By Ariel Dawn

Summery: It's 1880 and Elizabeth Cecily Underwood is forced to choose between her duty as the Chosen One and the young man who passionately loves her.

Disclaimer: Joss owns the BTVS characters. I own Reagan.

Feedback is really really very much appreciated. Special thanks to Bloodytearsoflife, who kindly Beta-ed this chapter for me and provided some wonderful suggestions.
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Chapter 1: Underwood and Fairchilde

Elizabeth Cecily Underwood fanned herself as she stood in the parlour of Mrs. John Chambers. It was unreasonably hot in the room, and Buffy, as she was known only to her closest friends, was dying to leave this party.

She couldn’t believe that her watcher had actually accepted this invitation on her behalf. She knew that the Scourge of Europe had been making the rounds of parties in fashionable London, but honestly, there was only so much that she could possibly put up with.

“Oh Miss Underwood?”

Buffy turned to the voice and smiled sweetly.

“Mrs. Chambers,” she acknowledged with a small bow of her head.

“Miss Underwood, I hope that you are enjoying yourself this evening?”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Chambers, delightfully so. I only stepped this way because of the dreadful heat.” Buffy fanned herself for emphasis of her point.

“Oh yes I understand Miss Underwood. The weather has been extremely warm of late. Perhaps some punch, Miss Underwood?”

“Oh yes, thank you Mrs. Chambers.”

Mrs. Chambers scurried away and Buffy rolled her eyes imperceptibly behind her fan. Mrs. Chambers was the niece of the current head of the Watcher’s Council, and though it was doubtful that she knew that Miss Underwood, Buffy, was in fact the slayer, it was clear that Mrs. Chambers knew her to be a person of importance to her uncle.

Buffy looked upon the mantle piece and the clock that resided there. This evening would never ever end! Luckily Buffy caught a glimpse of someone she did want to talk to. Mrs. Chambers, delightful woman that she was, had employed Mr. Fairchilde to bring her punch.

“M..Miss...C..Cecily, Mrs. Chambers bade me bring you punch.” Mr Fairchilde held out the cup with a shaky hand.

Buffy dipped her head and took the offered cup, making sure to brush her hand against his. The brief contact sending tingles down her arm. She flashed the young man with curly brown hair a dazzling smile.

Buffy had been introduced into society by her middle name and generally she didn’t mind that no one knew that her first name was Elizabeth. But, she thought, I wouldn’t mind if William Fairchilde knew it.

She really liked him. He was sweet and unassuming, kind and thoughtful. And she had a sneaking suspicion that he liked her too, or at least he wrote poetry about her. She only wished that he wasn’t so nervous around her all the time. They usually spent the more boring parties talking together, in a manner that even Buffy’s best friend had commented that Mr Fairchilde’s attentions had begun to turn in a serious direction.

“Thank you Mr. Fairchilde, I am sure,” Buffy said, looking into her companion‘s clear blue eyes. “I had not expected you here this evening.”

“Oh, no Miss Cecily, I had not an...anticipated my attendance either,” William replied, nervously brushing a curl from his forehead and readjusting his glasses.

“So it seems that fate has brought us together once more then,” added Buffy, taking a small sip of her punch.

“A f..fanciful notion, Miss Cecily.”

Buffy fluttered her eye lashes. “Perhaps Mr. Fairchilde, but a wonderful notion all the same.”

That comment had actually sent him into a blush. Buffy smiled and sipped her punch again.

“Some of the other ladies were discussing the formation of a musical club,” noted Buffy. “It often plagues me that I was not given the opportunity to learn the pianoforte.”

“To be sure Miss Cecily, it is a great loss.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Mrs. Chambers once more appeared at Buffy’s side.

“Mr Giles is at the door Miss Underwood. He says it’s urgent.”

Buffy immediately put down the cup of punch with a frown. The evening had just turned interesting. Buffy offered her apologies to Mr. Fairchilde and bade him a cordial farewell. If Giles was at the door, then it was serious indeed. He hated Mrs. Chambers with a passion.

Buffy turned briefly to look at her former companion in conversation once before making the turn towards the door and losing sight of him.

Stepping into the entrance of the house Buffy noticed at once that her watcher was livid. He had been kept waiting in the entrance by the hostess’ orders. Mrs Chambers disliked Mr. Giles as much as he did her.

“We’d best be away Buffy, there is evil afoot,” said the watcher in a low tone.

“Isn’t there always?” the slayer commented, taking her wrap from the butler and heading out after her retreating watcher who didn’t even bother to say a polite goodbye to the hostess of the evening.

Edmund Giles was always a man who understated the obvious. If he said that there was evil afoot, it must have been very serious indeed.

“What is this evil that I am to fight?” she asked as they walked.

“The Scourge.”

The colour left Buffy’s face. The Scourge. Angelus, Darla and Drusilla. The vampires that had killed most of her hometown only weeks after she had been chosen. The vampires that had killed her father.

“Where are they?”

“Kensington.”

That meant a carriage ride, she thought ruefully.

“We are not going to confront them tonight. Tonight, we prepare. My intelligence on the group has indicated that they have only just acquired the house they are in now.”

“I am not to confront them tonight?”

“No.”

“Mr. Giles! Pray excuse the outburst, I am ready. I have been training to confront Angelus and his brides for years, surely you cannot deny me this!”

Giles looked at his slayer. “Buffy, you cannot battle against the Scourge this way, headstrong and impulsive. It will only lead to your death. We must prepare for the impending conflict.”

“Angelus killed my father Giles,” Buffy added quietly.

“Yes, I am well aware of that fact Buffy.”

“Then you know why I have to kill him,” she said before turning and continuing on her way.
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Buffy, dressed in her training clothes: a pair of boy’s breaches and shirt, struck out at her watcher, who was holding pads to protect himself. They had been ‘preparing’ for two hours now and Giles was starting to show that he was tired.

“You should have seen William Fairchilde once you left the party,” came a voice from the doorway.

Buffy turned to see her best friend, Reagan, standing in the doorway. Reagan was the daughter of another watcher and one of the few women her own age that the Council allowed her to associate with.

“Did he say anything?” asked Buffy, instantly forgetting the presence of her watcher in light of this new topic of conversation.

“He was most disappointed that you left. I think he retreated into a corner to write more poetry. I don’t understand how you put up with his simpering and stuttering,” said Reagan with an honest look to her face.

“He is a good man, and a brilliant soul. There is something intensely pure about him,” said the slayer wistfully.

“I will have to take your word for it Buffy. Personally, it is a wonder he even leaves his house.”

“He leaves his house to see me,” said the slayer with a smile on her face.

“You aren’t thinking about marrying him are you?” asked Reagan bluntly.

“Why not? He’s a nice man, and he seems to like me a great deal. He may not be the wealthiest man in society, but then he isn’t a pauper. I like him Reagan, so...should he make me an offer...I do not think that I will reject him.”

“Mrs. Elizabeth Fairchilde,” said Reagan smiling.

“Mrs. Cecily Fairchilde,” corrected Buffy.

“Pray, tell me that your husband will know your proper name?”

“Yes,” said Buffy rolling her eyes. “I just prefer that society knows me by the name Cecily.”

“Miss Underwood, could we possibly, resume our training for the evening?” said Giles annoyed.

Buffy blushed a little and looked sheepish.

“Please forgive me Mr. Giles,” said Buffy moving once more into a fighting stance preparing to hit the pads Giles was holding.

“I do not understand your penchant for social attachments. I would have hoped the lesson of your father’s death would have made you wary to bringing any other persons into your life,” lectured the watcher.

“A girl can’t be lonely forever Giles.”
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Reagan and Buffy were escorted home by a council guard. Buffy certainly didn’t need an escort, but Reagan did, and there were appearances to be kept up.

“Buffy, surely Mr. Giles will tell you to break off your friendship with Mr. Fairchilde? The last slayer was forced to break off her engagement when she was called,” said Reagan.

Buffy really didn’t want to think about it. Of course it was always a possibility. She had heard the stories too; of the chosen ones being forced to give up friends, family and lovers in an effort to keep them safe. She knew a little about the matter actually. She had hesitated when the council wanted her to leave her family. She hadn’t kept her father safe, and that’s why he was dead.

Angelus had decided to make her his next pet project, and her father and half of her town had paid for it.

Mr. Giles had spent a month trying to convince Buffy to leave her family when she had been first chosen. By the time she finally agreed to be trained, the Scourge had already tracked down Buffy, the next slayer, so that Angelus could have the honour of making her his pet. So, alone in London, fast friends with Reagan, Buffy was blissfully unaware when the Scourge massacred her village. Buffy was an orphan in the Council’s care.

The truth was, that with the exception of Reagan, Buffy had no friends of her own. Everyone was a watcher’s something. She lived with the Travers family, a family who had been watchers for eons. She had been taken there when she was brought to London for her training. Mr. Giles was a bachelor and it was unseemly for Buffy live with him alone in his small but fashionable flat.

The Travers twins, Miranda and Felicity had been potential slayers at one time and had taken an instant dislike to Buffy at once, as she had committed the grievous sin of being chosen. The mutual dislike had turned to bullying on the part of the twins and icy glares on the part of Buffy.

There wasn’t a day in which Buffy didn’t curse the day she was called.

Buffy left Reagan at the door, bidding her friend goodnight and in the company of the Council’s escort and trudged up to her room. Miranda and Felicity were already in bed, snoring away. Buffy thanked the Lord for small blessings.

Buffy sat down in her small room and lit a candle. She fumbled around for a few moments before bringing a journal out of a hiding spot. The worn book, which had seen tears and anger, had been bound and rebound, was held closed by a blue ribbon.

Undoing the delicate ribbon, Buffy opened the journal to reveal a few well loved photographs. The eyes that stared back at her were familiar and any stranger who happened across the photos would know at once that the individuals shown there were family.

Buffy wiped a tear from her cheek and placed the photos of her father, mother and little sister back into the journal. She secured the book with the blue ribbon and set about dressing for bed.

Buffy had no lady’s maid, unlike the Travers twins. She had to do up her own corset every morning. There were times she felt that she was a second class citizen in her adoptive home. That was why she fantasized about marrying and getting away from the sneers and jeers of the Travers home.

The problem was that she wasn’t a normal girl. Reagan was destined to be a watcher. Miranda and Felicity too. Buffy would be a slayer until she died, which probably wasn’t far off.

Buffy slipped in between the covers and settled down to a restless sleep. The Scourge were in town. Maybe her death was closer than she thought.
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The next day Buffy was called into the board room of the Watcher’s Council and was faced with seven dour looking old men sitting around a rectangular table and staring disapprovingly at her.

“It has come to our attention Miss Underwood that you are harbouring feelings towards one William Fairchilde.”

“I am,” she admitted.

Buffy realised her mistake right away. She should have never discussed William in front of Giles. Or in the Council’s training room, where eyes and ears were always at key holes. No one could keep a secret from the Council.

“You are aware, I should hope, that any relationship you anticipate to have with this young man is not only dangerous to yourself, but also to him,” said Mr. Quinn, the head of the council.

“Yes, Sir,” said Buffy looking down at the ground.

“Therefore, you are hereby ordered to make it clear to the young man that there will be no further relations between you.”

Buffy looked up in shock at the head watcher.

“You can’t make me do that!” she protested, her heart breaking.

“You are Our Slayer, Miss Underwood. You will do as we say, or we will take steps to provide ourselves with a Slayer that is more obedient.”

Buffy hung her head. She had heard this threat before. The same threat that she had obeyed with in the past, leaving her family unprotected in their small hamlet of a village in Sussex. She had obeyed then too. Self preservation, a key ingredient to the council’s program of control by fear.

“So that’s it then? I break his heart and you let me live?” she asked, not needing the clarification that it provided.

“Essentially.”
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tbc...


Living Vengeance
By Ariel Dawn

Summery: Buffy struggles with the Council's directive.

Disclaimer: Buffy, Giles, Spike, not mine. Reagan, mine. K?

Author's note: Some dialogue taken from the episode Fool for Love. Once again hugs to my fabulous Beta Bloodytearsoflife. Feedback is very much appreciated.
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Chapter 2: Heartbreak

“I told you that this would happen,“ said Reagan sadly, as she stood in the afternoon sun that was shining through Buffy’s bedroom window.

Buffy had just sniffled and sobbed through the recounting of her morning meeting with the Council.

“Yes, you did,” sniffled Buffy.

“When are you going to tell him?”

Buffy raised her head up off her friend’s bed and looked glaringly at her friend for suggesting that she would ever do what the Watcher‘s Council wanted. “I’m not! I won’t tell him. I won’t do it Reagan. It’s my life.”

“But it’s not Buffy, you are Chosen.”

“I don’t care!” she cried. “I don’t have anyone, Reagan, except you. Why can’t I try to have normal life? Don’t I deserve to have a normal life after everything that’s happened to me?”

“Angelus wants to make you his pet Buffy. He’s already killed your father, what will happen if he gets his claws into William too?”

Buffy turned her tear stained face towards her friend, unwilling to admit that Reagan was right.

“Think about it Buffy. It’s really for his own good. And your mental health. A hysterical Slayer is not an effective Slayer.”

Reagan moved towards her friend and brought out a handkerchief to dry her eyes.

“If you really care about him, let him go Buffy, to save his life.”
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Cried out and completely exhausted, Buffy forced her body through yet another one of Giles’ gruelling training sessions. It was as if she had just shut down. She answered in one word responses, she paid scant attention to her instructor and sat down at every opportunity.

Finally Giles had had enough.

“Your sulking about Mr. Fairchilde is not going to eradicate the Scourge from our shores Buffy,” said the watcher harshly.

Buffy sniffled.

“You are the Chosen One, you have no time for romantic attachments. You live in the darkness, while he lives in the sun. There can be no future for you with him, Buffy, can’t you see that?”

“How can I not see that Giles? Everyday I am told that I have to be or act a certain way. But not with him. I can be me with him. And I don’t understand why. My whole life had been intricately choreographed, first by my mother who wanted the perfect lady, now by the Council who wants the perfect slayer. I’ve been told how to act and what faults I make. Now I meet this man who likes me just the way I am. With all my faults and imperfections, he still thinks I’m perfect. He writes poetry about me Giles!”

“Sounds like a poncy git if you ask me,” murmured Giles under his breath.

Buffy didn’t hear it.

“I am a slave to the Council’s will. If I don’t do what they say, they will kill me.”

“I am afraid that is true Buffy,” Giles admitted, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want to die, Giles. But I don’t want to give him up either.”
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Misery incarnate, that was what she felt like. Forced into yet another party, forced to pretend she had a social life. Forced to keep away from the one person at these parties she liked to talk to. She had been sitting on a sofa far removed from the rest of the party.

“He’s here,” said Reagan behind her fan.

Buffy groaned.

“He’s writing poetry about you again.”

“Reagan, I beg you, please stop.”

“I am sorry Buffy, you know I love you. My father took me aside yesterday, he wants me to persuade you to break with William tonight.”

“We all are pawns in their game,” she commented, resigned.

“Sadly yes,” responded her friend, taking her hand. “I wish I could do something for you Buffy.”

“Me too.”

Reagan dropped her hand. “Do you want some punch?”

Buffy nodded.

“I’ll be back in a moment then,” said her friend.

It was only a moment; no harm could come from only a moment, right?

Buffy decided it was most definitely a wrong sort of statement to have made. For in that moment Mr. Fairchilde appeared before her.

“Cecily?” inquired Mr. Fairchilde.

Buffy turned and sighed. She didn’t want to see him now. Seeing him, meant making a decision. Seeing him meant choosing him or her life.

“Oh. Leave me alone,” she commanded and confusion quickly set in on his face.

William looked back at the other guests as a burst of laughter erupted from the other room.

“Oh, they're vulgarians. They're not like you and I.”

“You and I?” asked Buffy. That was a comforting thought. Unfortunately the image of her and William standing together against the world included assassins from the Council and the Scourge of Europe. Buffy steeled herself for what had to come next. “I'm going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand?”

William nodded sincerely, sitting down beside her on the couch. It broke her heart to have to say these things, but she had to make sure that he got the message.

“Your poetry, it's... they're... not written about me, are they?”

Buffy inwardly cringed. She knew that they were about her, and she had delighted in it. It showed true affection. To use his poetry against him...it was beyond cruel.

“They're about how I feel.”

“Yes, but are they about me?”

“Every syllable,” William answered drawing his back up straight and looking at her with his piercing blue eyes.

“Oh, God!” Buffy willed the tears back. It would never do to say that the Slayer cried. Even when her insides were being torn up by what she was forcing herself to do.

“Oh, I know... it's sudden and... please, if they're no good, they're only words but...
the feeling behind them... I love you, Cecily.”

He loved her! Buffy’s heart leapt at the thought. For a split second she had thoughts of taking his hand and running away from everything with him. But of course if she did that, they would find her. They would always find her.

“Please stop!” she begged as she turned away, fighting hard to keep her tears from coming to the surface.

“I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see me...”

“I do see you.” That much was certain. She saw him with perfect clarity. “That's the problem.” Buffy gulped, turning to look at him once more. “You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me.”

Unable to sit there and watch his heart break, Buffy stood and left the room. She bumped into Reagan who had gotten punch.

“I am leaving Reagan.”

“Is it done?”

Buffy nodded and burst into tears, as she fled from the party.
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The commotion of the party was such that Reagan did not immediately leave after her friend. She watched in stealth for a moment, Mr. Fairchilde’s reaction to Buffy’s declaration. It was painful to watch. She could see the inner struggle not to cry. The man, for which she had some respect due to his affection for her friend, half walked half stumbled out of the room and past Reagan.

“Mr. Fairchilde,” Reagan greeted as he past.

The man stopped and looked at her harshly. She was her friend. William straightened up, looking at Cecily’s friend. He would not give Cecily anymore fuel to fire her retched opinion of him.

“Miss Wyndham,” he greeted back, his voice only slightly wavering.

“What Miss Underwood said...She was forced, her guardians...” the girl trailed off, not completely conveying her message.

It didn’t matter though. William didn't need to hear any excuses for what Cecily said that day. Without bothering to say goodbye to Miss Wyndham or to the hostess of the party William headed out the doors in contemplation of those words that had changed his world.

“You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me,” she had said.

Beneath him. Beneath him. He had considered her an angel in a dull, cruel world, but she was just as cruel as all the others.

William walked out into the street, unable to contain this tears any longer. He thought, if only he could make it to the stables without breaking down completely he would be fine.

His thoughts turned to anger at the poem that he still held in his hand. Her poem. His sadness turned to momentary rage, and he set about tearing his poem up into bits of paper that he felt were representative of the size of the pieces of his heart.

He barely registered bumping into a trio of pedestrians.

Back at the doorway of Mrs. Sinclair’s house, Reagan watched with dread as she saw with whom William had bumped into.

Angelus, Darla and Drusilla: The Scourge of Europe.
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Locked in her sparse bedroom, Buffy sobbed her heart out. Quietly through her sobs she head a rap at her door.

“Buffy, they’re on the move,” came Giles’ voice.

Buffy looked up from her pillow and glared at the door.

“Go away!” she wailed.

“Buffy!”

“No!” she sobbed. “You make me train, you make me break his heart, you tell me where to live, whose parties to attend. I broke his heart, I won’t do it!”

“Elizabeth Cecily Underwood!”

Buffy threw open the door angrily, her face wet and puffy.

“Please Giles. I lost my family because I was the Slayer, I’ve lost William. Don’t make me die too.”

Giles paused and looked into her green eyes. She was right of course. And he hated to have to say to her what he had to.

“They are in the West End,” stated Giles. “Spotted not far from the party tonight.”

Buffy eye’s widened a bit.

“It’s an order?” she asked hesitantly. “I’m to slay Angelus?”

Giles only nodded. Buffy sniffled and nodded.

“I have a condition.”

Giles nodded. She deserved it.

“If I live I’m going to grovel at his feet and whether or not I return to his good graces, I will no longer let the Council use my feelings for him against me.”

“Agreed.”

Buffy grabbed a stake from her dresser and headed out the door. “Show me where he is.”
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The hackney cab came to a halt not a block from the party she had attended that night.

Buffy slipped from the cab only to close her eyes, allowing her slayer sense to guide her into the direction she needed to go.

It took her to a house, one she recognized as belonging to a Mrs. Janesay, a widow of considerable means. A woman she saw only three days ago.

Buffy took a deep breath and walked forward.

The house appeared normal, but if Giles said that this house was inhabited by the Scourge, and Angelus, who viciously tortured and murdered her father, because she was a Slayer, because she was to be his next pet project.

Buffy’s thoughts drifted to the creature who had been her unlikely saviour in that case, Darla. It had been Angelus’ sire that had forced him to relocate, halting his plans for the Slayer.

Somewhere in this unimposing house, were both vampires and the loony childe of the clan, Drusilla the mad.

Buffy looked down at her hand, which clutched a stake. She really did need a plan. She looked back at the cab, where her watcher watched.

Starting off to the left of the house, Buffy hiked up her long skirts and tucked one side up into the ribbon around her waist, she undid her coiffed hair and shook it loose, as she walked down the block to enter by the back of the house.

Entering the back courtyard that serviced the houses that surrounded it, Buffy focused in on the Slayer tinglies that only meant vampires.

Buffy crawled up to a cellar window and tested whether or not it was locked, when it pushed open easily, Buffy cursed her good luck. She slid into the house quietly, landing into a pile of cloths that smelled like dirty nappies.

Ewww, she thought to herself.

The whole cellar looked as if it had only just been cleaned of human excrement. Mrs. Janesay must have finally gotten around to installing a water closet, observed the Slayer, as she found her way to the stairs.

Buffy reached the top of the cellar stairs with only a minimal amount of groping in the dark. Cracking the door cautiously, she stepped on to the main floor of the house and closed the door behind her. The tinglies were coming in two directions now, meaning that Angelus wasn’t alone.

Her inner debate about which direction to take was cut short by the appearance of Madame Darla herself.

“Why isn’t it the little Slayer that Angelus is oh so fond of,” cooed the vampiress.

Buffy gulped.

“Fear, it’s a lovely smell. Let me guess, that lovely Council has sent you to take care of us again hasn’t it? Pity, I liked taunting Angelus about his failure to do to you what he did to Drusilla. Now it seems, I’ll get to kill you myself. I guess that’s a good thing, because frankly I don’t think I’d like to live with two Drusillas.”

Darla took a step towards Buffy.

“We’ve been looking out for you, you know. Where you live, what you wear, who you are friends with. I must say I liked that Reagan girl.” Darla smiled sickly. “She was yummy.”

“You are just trying to make me panic,” said Buffy at last.

“From the smell of things, my dear, it’s working.” Darla took another step forwards. “But if you don’t believe me, you will when you get to that gloried place in the sky, that all good Slayers go to, when they’ve been drained dry.”

Buffy took another step back.

“Can we get this over with?” asked Buffy flippantly. “I have things to do and other vampires to slay tonight.”

“Which vampires would they be?” asked Darla innocently.

“Would they be me now lass?” came the Irish brogue of Angelus from behind the slayer.

Buffy turned around to see her father’s killer not three inches from her.

“Ahh, gentle Elizabeth, how I have longed to hold you in my arms once again, so that I could snap your neck,” he said with a sickly smile. “Something has been bothering my mind a great deal since we first came to London though, you go by the name of Cecily here, your mother’s name, isn’t that a bit deceitful then? What will poor William say when he finds out you’ve been a naughty girl?”

“How do you know about William?” she asked scared.

“We’ve been following you,” said Darla, “I thought I’d mentioned that.”

“And now, you can join us for dinner,” said Angelus, shifting into his fangs.

Buffy pulled her stake out of her pocket and launched herself at Darla who had not yet shifted, pushing the vampiress out of the way and fleeing down the hall into the parlour of the house, where she had once taken tea with Mrs. Janesay.

“You nasty Bitch!” screamed Darla as she examined the damage to her dress. There was a large rip in the skirt.

Buffy shrugged her shoulders and prepared to fight them off, with her very life.
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tbc...
Author’s note: Thanks and hugs to my fabulous beta, Bloodytearsoflife. This chapter really had some problems before she tackled it. Thanks also to the fab people who have reviewed, thank you for putting up with my weird penchant for multiple names of characters. (To which I say hey Joss did it too...Liam, Angel, Angelus??? Huh? and how about Anya, Aud and Anyanka??? Ok, I’m done, rant terminated.)

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Chapter 3: Misery

Buffy backed away from the approaching vampire and his sire.

This does not look good at all, thought Buffy. She backed into a small table knocking over some of Mrs. Janesay’s nick knacks, her long skirt brushing against pillows and frames of items that obviously the vampires had discarded.

Buffy threw another table into Darla’s path and made a break for it, running with ease despite her long skirts. Buffy rounded the corner of the hallways and ran up the stairs, throwing down a small table once she reached the next level, a potential obstacle.

Reaching the second floor Buffy headed into a bedroom. Calling on her mystical Slayer strength, Buffy pushed a very heavy armoire in front of the door. She stood for a moment to catch her breath and firmly decided that she should use her time wisely and come up with an actual plan.

The bedroom was dark, the only illumination the street lamps outside. Buffy knew that Darla and Angelus wouldn’t be far behind her. She needed a plan, a plan other than a straight out fight. A straight out fight she would never win.

Her trusty stake was all that stood between Angelus and her life.

If she survived, she was never wearing skirts again.

Buffy glanced around the room, looking for potential weapons. Her eyes lighted on a pair of shears, poking out of a sewing basket and without a moment’s hesitation, she began to hack away at her skirts. She hadn’t gotten very far with it before Angelus broke through the hastily barricaded door.

“Ah, lass, let’s end this game we play. Just give up, you’ll never win. You dust one of us and a hundred more are risen every night,” said the vampire.

She knew it was true. Being a Slayer was an endless fight.

“That very well maybe true Angelus,” spat the Slayer. “But at least I know in some small way, I am a very large thorn in you side.” She smiled.

“Not for long you won’t be.” Angelus advanced on her with glee in his eyes.

Buffy set her brow in determination and waited for his first blow, which she parried and forced back using her right arm, sporting the shears, cutting a large gash through Angelus’ expertly tailored suit.

Angelus drew back in horror as blood seeped from his cut. Buffy smiled and launched into a fury of punches and jabs towards the face of her adversary. Angelus fought back with equal fervour eventually pushing Buffy down onto an end table, knocking it down in the process. Buffy looked up from her prone position on the floor and wiped the blood from her lip. Angelus approached. Buffy rolled away towards the middle of the room, towards the canopy bed. It was here that her body collided with a lump, her hand brushing against something cold and clammy as she hoisted herself up from the floor. Buffy grimaced as she recognized what and who it was.

Mrs. Janesay.

Mrs. Janesay, who was snarling at her.

Mrs. Janesay, who was flashing her newly acquired fangs at her.

Buffy closed her eyes and plunged her stake into the still sprawling and obese body of Mrs. Janesay.

The distraction of Mrs. Janesay rising up as a member of the undead however, gave Angelus time to wrap his hands around Buffy’s neck.

She let out a terrified gasp and struggled against his choking grip. Suddenly Buffy struck her head backwards, knocking Angelus in the nose, and breaking his grip on her neck. Buffy breathed in a few haggard breaths before making for the French doors of the balcony. She flung herself over the side grabbing onto the trellis.

Without warning, she was grabbed by the collar and raised up to look directly into the burning amber eyes of her opponent, her legs still dangling over the side.

He was angry.

“Good bye, Slayer. When you awaken, you will be mine,” purred Angelus, tilting Buffy’s head and inching his fangs towards her neck.

Buffy felt the harsh needles of his fangs enter her skin. Silently, she whispered a prayer for her soul, and that of William‘s, before succumbing to her fate at the hands of the vampire that killed her father.
__________________________________________
When Buffy opened her eyes again she did not feel the terrible hunger that she expected to feel as a vampire. In fact she didn’t feel much at all. She was in a barely lit room, in a bed from what she could gather.

Her head hurt, a lot. Raising her hand to her head, she was suddenly overcome with a bout of dizziness. Somehow, she didn’t think that she was a vampire. No way could vampires feel this way and then go out for human snacks. Her hand travelled to her neck where she found Angelus’ marks, healing and already scabbed over.

After lying in the dark room, contemplating what had happened and where exactly she was, Buffy attempted to leave her confining bed.

But something was wrong.

She couldn’t move her legs.

A look of panic passed over her face. Nothing she could do would make her legs work. Buffy pulled back the blankets and what was left of her skirts to reveal her legs, which looked normal. But still she couldn’t move them.

“Giles?” she yelled panicked.

She really didn’t expect him to peer from behind the doorway of the room, but was intensely relieved when it was his calm face that appeared.

He was smiling sadly, his usual kempt style slightly dishevelled.

“Buffy, child, you are awake,” he said relieved, coming to her bedside. “How do you feel?”

“Confused. Giles, my legs, are they broken? I don’t feel any pain, but I can’t move them!” she started to wail.

“Dr. Mason examined you when I brought you back. He noticed nothing wrong.”

“Well he was wrong Giles, bring him back,” ordered a panicked Slayer.

Giles smiled. She was making demands as usual. Normal behaviour for Buffy Underwood.

“I will do that at once Buffy.”

“Where am I Giles?” she asked in a little voice, revealing the feeling of uncertainty she felt.

“You are at the Council headquarters Buffy.”

“And how did I escape with my life?” she asked in an equally small voice.

“That was my doing. I shot Angelus with a flaming arrow. He dropped you from the balcony onto the street. The house was in flames as I left with you.”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. If she had been a vampire, they certainly would not have brought her back to their secret enclave. Giles had saved her.

“Giles? Angelus and Darla, they told me Reagan was dead...”

“Reagan is fine Buffy, asleep in her bed as we speak. When the sun rises I will send for her.”

Buffy smiled, but Giles did not return the smile.

“Giles, please tell me. You have unpleasant face, like you are about to say something particularly unpleasant,” she ordered.

“Mr. Fairchilde was found dead this evening. In the stables not far from the party,” he answered avoiding her gaze.

“No.” Buffy shook her head. “No.”

“It was vampires Buffy. We are certain of it,” continued the watcher.

“NO!” she screamed. “No,” she whimpered, turning on her side and crying into her pillow, her legs flopping listlessly over the side of the bed.

She cried. She cried for his death, and for the fact that it had happened anyway, even after she had done what the Council wanted. She was trapped in a horrible nightmare. She was a cripple and alone forever in a sea of despair.
__________________________________________
Hours later, after Dr. Mason had finished his examination and pronounced that she would regain the use of the legs in a few days due to her superior Slayer healing, and after she had cried all the tears she had, Buffy asked the question that she dreaded to ask.

“Was he turned?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“We are uncertain. There are signs. Blood on his mouth. There will be a Watcher guarding his grave for the week, once he is buried.”

Buffy nodded. “I want to be at his funeral Giles.”

“We have not yet told his family Buffy.”

Buffy suddenly thought back to his poor mother, Mrs. Farichilde, who was a widow, had now lost both of her children. So much loss.

“When you do, I want to visit Mrs. Fairchilde.”

“Of course, Buffy.”
__________________________________________
Buffy eagerly awaited the day when her legs would regain their strength. She counted her blessings that she was not trapped in a house with the Travers twins. Especially now since she had heard from Reagan that their brother Marcus had returned home from his studies at Oxford. He was even worse than the twins. Buffy’s only news from the outside world came from Reagan who was a constant visitor, and Giles who checked in on her twice daily.

William had risen. This was news that Buffy had dreaded hearing. Whoever had sired William had dispatched the Watcher keeping vigil over his grave. The Council’s fear was that William, should he be risen, would take revenge on Buffy for breaking his heart. They weren’t far off.

Reagan was of the opinion that had Buffy been in society and not convalescing in a secret room, in a secret building, she surely would have been a target of the now William the Bloody. Most of the people that had attended that particular party were now dead. Some with railroad spikes through their heads.

Not only did William the Bloody pose a problem for the Council who was suddenly with out a Slayer, but the Scourge seemed to taken an increasing interest in Buffy’s friends as well.

Once she regained the use of her legs, she intended to stake Angelus once and for all.

She only had to wait for her legs to heal.
__________________________________________
But her legs didn’t heal.

Buffy was left impotent and unable to leave her sequestered state as below her in conference rooms, Watchers decided her fate.

Buffy knew that they were trying to decide what to do about her. A paralysed Slayer was useless and held the Slayer line hostage in a body that could only drain resources. It was Giles’ sighs and glances that made Buffy realize that her life was in jeopardy once more, this time from the Council itself.

Again.

She wanted to live. She wanted to take her own revenge on Angelus. She wished with all her heart that she had never been a Slayer.

Reagan was the first to tell her the truth.

Reagan had returned solemn from her home, and a discussion with her father. They were sending her to university within the week.

“It can only mean one thing Buffy,” said Reagan with tears in her eyes. “They mean to euthanize you while I am gone. They would never do it while I was here. I wouldn’t allow it.”

Buffy nodded, tears in her eyes as well. Reagan’s father had been putting off sending Reagan away to school for years now. It was more than suspicious that it was now decided she would go.

“I won’t go!” cried Reagan. “I won’t let them kill you Buffy.”

Buffy sniffled. “But how will you stop them Reagan?” she asked honestly. Reagan was as much controlled by the Council as she was.

“I have to find a way. Perhaps we can do a spell?” asked Reagan hopefully.

Buffy smiled. When they had first met Reagan and Buffy had spent a good deal of their spare time looking up spells to use on demons and vampires. Buffy had a feeling that Reagan was grasping at straws, but was grateful for her friend’s concern.

They started looking into spells within the hour, pouring over texts that held curses and hexes, Buffy committed a few to memory. As they paused for refreshment, Buffy couldn’t help but notice Reagan looking far more woeful than before.

“What is it Reagan?” Buffy asked, her friend’s sudden mood change worrying her.

“Oh Buffy, I have something to confess.”

“What is it?” Buffy asked with genuine concern

Reagan set her tea down and stared at her hands. “That night, of the party, I tried to tell William why you did what you did, but he stormed off. I went after him and saw him bump into the Scourge. I didn’t think anything of it. My first thought was to inform Mr. Giles and the Council. I didn’t think they’d do anything to William. I swear it Buffy, if I’d known what would have happen, I’d gone after him,” she said through her tears. “I should have gone after him, made sure he was safe.”

“Reagan, no,” said Buffy clasping her friend’s hands. If you had gone after him, you might well have been turned too. You aren’t a Slayer.”

There was a brief moment where Buffy contemplated her existence if Reagan had been turned as well. The loss of her friend, even as an idea was unfathomable.

“I feel so bad Buffy,” Reagan confessed, wrapping her arms around Buffy and hugging her.

“Hush Reagan, there’s nothing to be done now. Just help keep me alive.”

Reagan nodded her head and they continued on in their search for the perfect spell. The spell they eventually decided on was one to cloak Buffy’s essence from the Council, so that they would never find her. The spell was complicated, and they needed a host of expensive and dangerous ingredients to perform it.

It was Reagan’s task to acquire the ingredients. They parted that night, exhausted but eager to perform the spell the next day. Provided Reagan could ‘borrow’ the ingredients they needed from her father.

The next day Buffy waited patiently for her friend’s visit.

Reagan never came.

Buffy spent a large portion of the day in denial. Of course Reagan would come. Reagan, her friend would come for her.

By midnight, Buffy had to accept that Reagan wasn’t coming. She had been caught stealing the ingredients for the potion, or she had been sent away by her father early. A dozen horrible scenarios danced through Buffy’s head, as she sat on her small bed, with nothing to distract her thoughts, and no visitors to pass the time with. Just the incessant ticking of the mantle piece clock to interrupt the silence.
__________________________________________
Buffy’s heart beat relentlessly. She knew they were going to come for her while they thought she was sleeping. It was hard to keep her eyes from closing given the lack of distraction in the room.

She couldn’t see what time it was when they finally did enter the room, quietly. Buffy heard the door close and the four bodies that were in the room with her approached her bed.

Buffy’s eyes snapped open as two of the men held down her arms on the bed, and one brought a pillow down on her face.

Quietly, with the last breath she had, Buffy gasped a rough combination of all the spells she had memorized from the book of hexes and curses. The sound of terrible screaming of her attackers was the last thing to fill her ears before the darkness and silence engulfed her.
__________________________________________
Buffy regained consciousness by herself in her sick room, alone, her attackers nowhere in sight. The pillow that had been intended as her murder weapon lay uselessly on the floor.

In the distance she could hear the muted screams of men. Buffy’s heart beat rapidly and she began to think about the curse that she had muttered.

Then she understood the screams. Her curse was a combination of two: one to make blood boil, and one an Egyptian tome robber’s curse. The four men that had tried to kill her were suffering from her curse; and would until they died, or until they killed themselves because of the pain.

Buffy lay back on her bed and laughed. Her curse had been uttered in such a way that made it so anyone who tried to kill her would suffer from the same curse. The Watcher’s Council would never be able to get rid of this Slayer problem. She could live her life now without fear. Her laughter echoed through the hallways of the Council building.

Buffy breathed after a particularly long period of manic laughter only to see a greyish demon, with a long white beard sitting at leisure in her bedroom.

“Who are you?” Buffy asked, sitting up as best she could.

“I think the question is my dear, who are you? I’ve never known a Slayer to slay her Watchers before,” said the curious demon.

“I did not slay my Watcher. Only those that tried to kill me,” uttered Buffy.

“That is true, a hex so powerful. You do know that this curse will protect you all your life?”

“I had a feeling,” said Buffy with a smile.

“Of course if you weren’t the Slayer you would have been long dead by the time you muttered your curse.”

Buffy shrugged.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

“You haven’t answered mine.”

“I am Elizabeth Cecily Underwood.”

“No title to go with that?”

“No, I’ve given up the Vampire Slayer thing. If you haven’t noticed, they just tried to kill me.”

The demon nodded. “Fair enough my dear. And I must say again that your curse, truly brilliant. I haven’t seen something that innovative since, well, it’s been a good long time.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve come to make you an offer.”

“What kind of an offer?” Buffy asked.

“An offer that will allow you to regain the use of your legs, though you would also be a demon.”

“There’s got to be a catch other than that,” said the Slayer.

“You’d be one of my girls, Vengeance demons. Heard of Anyanka?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yes I have heard of Anyanka, you made her too?”

“Elevation is what it is called.”

“You want to elevate me?” she asked curious.

“Yes, my dear.”

“And I wouldn’t be the Slayer anymore?”

“No.”

A smile spread over Buffy’s face.
__________________________________________
tbc...Chapter 4: Making Peace

Elizabeth Cecily Underwood, now known simply as Erixel, was a vengeance demon. And she was happy about it. Buffy spun in place after she regained the use of her legs, her arms spread out, and the skirt of the nightgown she was wearing floated around her as she spun.

D’Hoffryn clapped with glee at the joy and bliss that was coming from the former Slayer from his seat at the foot of her sick bed, his robes hanging off of him like a king in state.

“I feel it, D’Hoffryn,“ she said with awe as she took in what she could see of the world with her new demon senses. “I feel all the people that have been badly treated, all the humans that feel wronged. I want to help them.“

“Of course you do my dear,” smiled the demon. “There are a few things of course that you should know first before you venture out into the world. Your pendant,” said the Demon pointing to the necklace that now adorned her upper chest, it‘s red stone gleaming in the early morning sun that shone through a tiny dirty window. “That pendant is the source of your power. Without it you are as you were before, a human, powerless. With it you cannot be killed, except by beheading.”

Buffy nodded.

“I require a certain number of vengeance wishes to be cast on a monthly basis. I’ll start you out slow. However, there is one of my girls that I would particularly wish you to meet, she is my favourite, and she’s good at what she does.”

“Anyanka.”

D’Hoffryn smiled. “Make your peace with your pass life. I will be waiting for you in Arashamahar.”

Buffy nodded, instinctively knowing just what he was talking about. It obviously came with the Demon package.

D’Hoffryn teleported out of the room in a puff of smoke, leaving the slightly charred smell of what had once been the chair at the foot of her bed and the newly created Vengeance Demon to make her peace. With a determined air about her, Buffy walked out of her sick room, a room that she had occupied for what seemed an eternity. To make her peace she needed to see very few people. And only one of them was in this building.
__________________________________________
Buffy found Giles reading in a parlour of the massive edifice. He was startled when she called his name. The relief and confusion that passed over his face was evident.

“Buffy?” asked the Watcher. “They told me you had died, days ago.”

Buffy shook her head and smiled sadly. “No I didn’t die, but they tried to kill me. Giles, why didn’t you stop them?”

Giles stood, letting the book he had been reading fall to the ground. “They told me you had taken your own life, that you couldn’t bear to be confined any longer. Had I known, had they let me see you...”

Buffy grabbed his hands. “Dearest Giles. Please, don’t worry about it now. I know how this Council is run; I know how we are all pawns. I won’t be a pawn in their larger plan any longer. I’m free, just as I said I would be. No more Council to dictate what I do, no more giving up what my heart desires.”

Giles exhaled. He liked the happiness in her eyes that he saw. He was sorry to have to squash it. “But you are alive, Buffy,” said the Watcher sadly. “You are the Slayer still.”

“No Giles, I’m not,” she said without further explanation.

The warm touch of her hands told him that she was not undead. Giles looked at her with confusion.

“You must promise me something, dearest Giles.” Buffy looked pleadingly into the eyes of the man who’d become her father figure after her own father’s demise.

The Watcher nodded, and had an inkling of a feeling in his gut that this might be the last time he‘d see his Slayer.

“Promise that you will take care of yourself Giles. Have a family. Stay away from Angelus. And be very careful what you wish for in front of strangers.”

Giles raised an eyebrow curiously, but the Slayer would not give any further information. Buffy turned and headed out the doorway.

“Will I ever see you again Buffy?” asked the Watcher, staring after his former pupil.

“Perhaps Giles, but only if you are very naughty.”
__________________________________________
Reagan stared open mouthed at the tale Buffy told her. Sitting in the dark oubliette* that Reagan had been imprisoned in, Buffy had recounted the tale of the Watchers trying to suffocate her, her encounter with D’Hoffryn and her elevation to demonhood.

“So they pushed you down here?” asked her friend.

Reagan nodded. “I didn’t even know we had one of these in the house.” Reagan looked up at the stone walls that surrounded her. She had been lucky that her fall hadn’t broken any bones, suffering only from some minor bumps and scrapes. She had attempted to scale the walls of the oubliette but there were no handholds in the rock.

When Buffy had jumped down she had thought the Slayer was nuts, there was no possible way they would both get out of there, they would starve to death. Now, after Buffy’s extraordinary tale, Reagan realized something: Buffy could teleport.

“What will you do now?” asked Reagan.

“Be a Vengeance Demon, for a while at least, until I get bored of it, then maybe I’ll break my pendant and settle down with someone sweet and gentle...”

“Like William?”

Buffy was quiet for a while.

Reagan cleared her throat before continuing. “It’s been confirmed, the newest terror on the streets of London is William the Bloody. He’s been driving railroad spikes into people’s heads. And his mother is missing.”

Buffy gulped. “Missing?”

Reagan nodded.

“Is Mrs. Fairchilde dead too, then?” asked Buffy.

“No one knows, well at least they didn’t before I was pushed down here.”

Buffy grabbed her friend’s hands. “Reagan you have to get away from them, the Council, you can’t stay here with your father.”

“Well first I have to get out of here...”said Reagan looking up at the doorway she was unable to reach.

“I wouldn’t leave you down here Reagan,” said Buffy with a smile. “But where will you go?”

“Where I should have gone a long time ago, to the university like I was promised.”

Buffy nodded.
__________________________________________
Buffy was enjoying her new powers as a Vengeance Demon, the teleporting was very very fun. The ability to have money and clothes and a place to stay all at the blink of an eye, made her wish that she had brought vengeance down on the Watcher’s Council sooner than she had.

And she was ready to do her vengeance chores; she wanted to make others pay.

But first she had to see him. She had to make him understand. She had to make things right.

Finding him wasn’t hard, given that it was common knowledge that he was sired by Drusilla, childe of Angelus. Or rather it was common knowledge to anyone who believed in Vampires and Demons. Buffy just causally walked up to the house from which she took her tragic fall and entered uninhibited.

The house was much the same as it had been that night, though a few of the pieces of furniture had been replaced. At that point, Buffy seriously wished for her Slayer sense to be restored. Elevated she sensed the wish for vengeance above all things, but she knew could also sense other demons. Angelus had so many minions she had no idea which feeling she should follow.

Buffy climbed the stairs, moving towards the master bedroom, she anticipated finding Angelus and his brides, sleeping the day away.

Opening the master bedroom door, Buffy was surprised to see only Darla and Drusilla sleeping wrapped in each other’s arms barely covered by the quilt that was draped strategically in all the right places. Buffy quietly closed the door, not wanting to wake the nude vampires. This meant that Angelus was somewhere else in the house. And her William was probably with the sadistic bastard.

Buffy walked to the next bedroom, and opened the door. She stifled a laugh as she saw Angelus, who had clearly passed out from his abuse of the whiskey he was so fond of. The empty bottles that surrounded him were a testament to just how much the vampire had drunk.

Buffy opened the door still further, noticing that not only had Angelus passed out in a puddle of alcohol, but also that he had neglected to close the windows of this particular room. Buffy shrugged her shoulders. For some reason she had no wish to dust Angelus at the moment, but if he got a little crisp, she wasn‘t about to complain. What she wanted was to find her William.

The next room revealed nothing. Nor the next. Buffy climbed the stairs to the attic and the servants quarters. In the far back room, probably one that had belonged to a lowly maid or stable boy, was her William, wearing only his breaches and chained to the wall. He was unconscious, hanging, his arms held tightly by manacles.

“Oh William,” said Buffy sadly, reaching out to touch him.

He was covered in cuts and bruises, marring the pretty pallor of his skin.

“I’m so very, very sorry,” she began, her hand finally making contact with his bruised face.

Angelus had done this to him, she was certain of it.

William groaned as he woke up. It took him a few seconds to process the images that his eyes were sending him, his brain telling him his eyes were deceiving him.

“Cecily?” he asked hesitantly.

Buffy nodded.

“It’s me William. I had to come, I had to explain. I had to say how truly sorry I am.” Buffy moved a step closer, her hands ghosting over his injuries. Then taking a step back she knelt at his feet.

“Sorry for what?” he asked harshly, his voice rough. “For breaking my heart? For sending me out into the night to meet Drusilla? She changed me you know.”

Buffy nodded with tears in her eyes. “I know William. One of them were going to kill you anyway. Angelus, he wanted to have me, to make me like Drusilla, I was his project.”

William shook his head. “No, all he ever talks about is his Elizabeth, his Slayer that got away.”

“Me,” she said sadly. “Elizabeth Cecily Underwood.” Buffy looked up at him, her green eyes glistening with tears still yet unshed. “They made me do it, they were going to kill me, the Council, if I didn’t tell you...crush your hopes, my hopes. Angelus would have killed you too, to get to me. Drusilla beat him to it.”

William’s face lightened for a moment. “Your hopes?” he asked quietly. The poet in him was still very much alive, and his heart swelled at the idea that she might have reciprocated his feelings, however tragic their outcome was.

Buffy nodded. “My hopes. I wanted it William, I wanted the dream. I wanted you. Now everything is changed, everything is ruined. You are a vampire and I’ve been changed, I’m a...”

“Demon,” he said frankly. “I can smell the change Cecily.”

“Buffy, please call me Buffy.” Buffy sniffled. “I’m a Vengeance Demon now... The Council, they tried to kill me, after Angelus dropped me from the balcony. I couldn’t walk, I was useless and crippled. I cursed them. I have a job to do now, to wreak vengeance, make people pay...people like the Council, but William...I want to see you again.”

William shook his head, his dead heart breaking again. “I’m hers now, not yours.”

Buffy turned away as if he’d slapped her, the tears she’d been keeping at bay finally falling.

Buffy wiped a tear away with the sleeve of her dress. “She’s your Sire, I would expect nothing less,” she said in resignation as she wiped the last of her tears away. “I am sorry,” she stated again, looking into his bluer than blue eyes. She could see her pain reflected in his blue pools staring back at her. Once again she cursed everything that had led them to this moment. Buffy pushed herself up off the floor.

“Pet?” William called after her.

“Yes, William?”

“I’m sure two immortal beings like ourselves will run into each other from time to time.”

It was a beautiful thought, but would his Sire let him out her sight long enough for a few clandestine meetings? It was a hope, a hope she clung to with the very fibre of her being.

Buffy smiled sadly. “I wish for it with all my heart, William.”

“Spike.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Spike, better vampire name than William the Bloody Awful Poet don’t you think?” he said smugly.

“You’ll always be William the Bloody Brilliant Poet to me William. And D’Hoffryn renamed me. I’m Erixel now, in demon circles.”

“I’ll keep an ear out for you love.”

“And I’ll do the same.”

Buffy placed a small kiss on Spike’s cheek and walked out the door.

Spike let out the breath that he found himself holding. It was true that as a vampire he didn’t need to breathe but he was finding that old habits die hard.

“You’ll always be William the Bloody Brilliant Poet to me William.”

Cecily’s words rung in his ear and he clenched his teeth in an effort to not let his tears spring forth. The injustice of the whole situation made it just that much worse. She had shared his feeling and because of the Council, she’d been force to break his heart, and hers too.

His yell of frustration resonated in the room and he slumped against his restraints.

Cecily wanted him. But why should that matter now? He had Drusilla, his ripe wicked plum, his black goddess.

Deep down he knew why. He loved Cecily and always would, even if he was with Drusilla now. But he was immortal now, and so was Cecily. Things could change, and just one day, he knew they would be together.

Spike shook his head, attempting to clear it of these rebellious thoughts. Drusilla had saved him from mediocrity. She had given him a new outlook on the world, a new purpose for being. For that he was forever indebted to her. It was ungrateful to think that any other woman, even Cecily could be anything to him now.

Really what kind of life would they have had together? A genteel couple living beyond their means in a world that did not understand them. That was no life. Spike caught Cecily’s scent on a breeze of night air that floated through the window and bade a silent farewell to the woman he had thought of as his one true love.

__________________________________________
“So he was tied to the wall?” asked Reagan, as they walked about Hyde Park in the daylight.

Buffy nodded.

“And you didn’t get him down?”

Buffy shook her head.

“Why ever not?” asked Reagan.

Buffy shrugged. “He didn’t ask to be let down.”

“So what are you going to do now?” asked Reagan.

“I will go to Arashamahar, I suppose. Meet with the famous Anyanka,” said Buffy. “But I will keep in touch Reagan. I promise. If you ever want vengeance...”

“I’ll know who to call on,” said Reagan with a smile.

“You’d better Reagan Amelia Wyndham.”

“I will. And I’ll do you one better...” Reagan pulled out a slip of paper from her purse and handed it to Buffy.

“What’s this?” asked the demon.

“This is the only way that the Council will stop hunting down William Fairchilde. I know you are worried about him. His connections, they are so close to the Council, and now that you’ve visited him...He’ll be a target, more so than any other newly fledged vampire.”

Buffy looked down at the scrap of paper. On it was a spell that would obscure or remove all written entries made about William the Bloody. His truth would be hidden. The Council would never remember that he was once a member of their society, that he loved a Slayer or that he was turned because she was trying to protect him.

She stared a while at the paper, contemplating the consequence of it. Finally, she spoke up.

“Do it,” commanded the former Slayer.
__________________________________________
Presented to Anyanka by D’Hoffryn himself was quite the honour, Buffy perceived. Other demons in the fabulously decorated room cowered in the corners, waiting for D’Hoffryn’s audience or Anyanka’s temper to flare.

Anyanka, who’s past deeds were legendary, the demon who wreaked vengeance solely on men who mistreated their women, was a slight woman, no bigger than Buffy herself. Buffy presented her hand to the demon with a smile.

“You must be Anyanka of whom I’ve heard so much,” said Buffy straight away.

Anyanka smiled. “Erixel? Is it? D’Hoffryn has told me much about you. Is it true you were a Slayer? Imagine the bragging points that D’Hoffryn is going to get by elevating you.”

Buffy blushed.

“And the curse you did! Spectacular! I only wish I had come up with it. You must tell me how you did it!”

Anyanka linked arms with the new demon and led her through the halls of D’Hoffryn’s chamber.

The lips of the other demons in the room started to move as the gossip surrounding Erixel grew. Erixel and Anyanka were instant friends; Erixel was someone to be feared.
__________________________________________
tbc...

Chapter 5: Moving On

Erixel, the Vengeance Demon, was having a productive day.

Buffy twisted her fist into the mangled remains of her latest victim. The man before her was scum, pond scum that even cows wouldn’t drink from. Removing her hand from the bloody remains Buffy looked around for something to wipe the blood off her hands.

Buffy reached over and grabbed a towel from the man’s washstand. Looking down at her dress, which was now splattered with the man’s blood, Buffy sighed. Another dress ruined. This job was worse for her wardrobe than slaying had been.

Without even a thought, Buffy teleported back to her own apartment on the Champs D’Elysée. She’d been in Paris for a month now, seeking out parents and guardians for her brand of vengeance. Only last week she had struck down the entire staff of an orphanage with small pox. Buffy threw back the doors to her wardrobe and inspected the dresses that hung there.

It had been a whirlwind couple of years since her elevation to demonhood. In all that time she had been trained by D’Hoffryn and Anyanka, and was set on her way to being feared and revered in her profession. Despite her busy schedule Buffy had taken time to keep up with the important people from her human life.

Reagan had gone to the university, just as she said that she wanted to. She was now a full fledged Watcher and about to be married to an equally new Watcher, a man by the name of Arthur Price. Buffy had been invited to the wedding.

And she was actually considering going. A Vengeance Demon at the wedding of two Watchers. The truth was that Buffy felt like her friend was leaving her behind. Reagan, who couldn’t very well hold dinner parties every time Buffy was in town, was carrying on with her life. Someday, Reagan would have little Wyndham-Prices running around the house, something that Buffy would never have.

Reagan was her last human friend. Her friends now included those beings that, only a few years ago, she had been sent out into the night to slay. She had found that there was a whole world out there that wasn’t defined by good and evil. She certainly didn’t think of herself as evil.

Giles did though. He had married, and was expecting his first child soon. Or so Reagan had written in her last letter. Giles was a sore topic with Buffy. He had refused to keep in touch with a Demon. He had agreed to keep her secret, that she was a Slayer turned Demon. He had merely passed on the news of Elizabeth Underwood’s death at the hands of the demon D’Hoffryn.

Buffy imagined that there had been a collective sigh of relief from the surviving Watchers that night.

But Buffy missed her Watcher. He was a father figure that she had learned to count on, and despite his propensity to deliver her into the clutches of her mortal enemies, she loved the man.

The other being she kept in touch with was William. It was hard not to. His exploits as William the Bloody were legendary. He was a member of the Scourge. That alone brought fame. She had run into him in York, and again in Amsterdam. They had exchanged pleasantries, updating each other on items of interest in their lives. Sadly, this also meant that Buffy had to listen to William prattling on about the wonderfulness of Drusilla.

“She isn’t so wonderful,” Buffy thought aloud, shaking out her new dress.

Drusilla was a thorn in her side. Drusilla was why William wasn’t with her now. And oh how she wanted him. Buffy understood how the Scourge worked. Angelus, Childe of Darla, would never ever share his women with the fledge. William was hanging on the fringe, occasionally getting attention. He was Drusilla’s nursemaid, pet, and bed mate when Angelus was with Darla or grew tired of her. William had moved on from her and it hurt.

Buffy sighed and began to unbutton her dress. Yes it was frustrating, but she didn’t have time to contemplate this now. She was going to meet Anyanka for dinner and some after dinner vengeance. Anyanka had found a man who was not only cheating on his wife, but was abusing his daughter as well. Miracle worker that she was, Anyanka had gotten invitations to the man’s house for a dinner party.

Buffy marvelled at just how brilliant Anyanka was.
__________________________________________
“We really must do this again sometime,” said Anyanka holding up a glass of champagne.

All around them were the dead bodies of those that hadn’t run in fear. The man of the house, his mistress, his other mistress, the maid that he had a thing with on the side on top of all of that. In the corner of the room, the scorned wife was huddled with her daughter.

“What a glorious mess,” continued Anyanka. “My work here is done.”

“I really wish that they wouldn’t wish for such messy and ultimately short forms of vengeance though,” said Buffy, trying to wipe out a spot of blood off her glove.

“Oh my dear Erixel, they are French, it’s all off with their head and stuff.”

“Then I think I’ll go back to England, or maybe America, I’m sure that there are a lot of Vengeance opportunities in America,” said Buffy.

“Sure there are,” said Anyanka putting her glass of champagne down. “But you won’t go, not until William goes.”

Buffy turned to face her friend, a frown on her face.

“What?” exclaimed Anyanka. “It’s true, isn’t it? You love him. You always have, and he’s a vampire. I don’t understand why you don’t do anything about it.”

“I...”

“Erixel, I admire your work ethic, but I think it’s time you took some time for yourself. Men are pigs, we have blood on our hands that proves it. But really, take William the Bloody to bed already and get him out of your system.”

Buffy stared back at her friend, her brain contemplating what she had said.

“I... I couldn’t do that,” said the former Slayer.

“And why not?”

Buffy exhaled before continuing. “Setting aside the fact that I’ve never done anything like that before...He...He doesn't love me anymore.”

“He doesn’t have to love you,” said Anyanka, “Love is for the weak. Love is for her.” Anyanka pointed to the woman still cowering in the corner of the room. “You don’t want to be like her Erixel. Demons are better and you know it.”

Buffy nodded. “I know it.”
__________________________________________
Buffy tried to take Anyanka’s advice to heart. She knew that her friend was right about her. Even now, as they parted ways, Anyanka to Transylvania, something about wanting to meet Dracula, and Buffy to Rome to see some place new, Buffy didn’t know what to do about it.

Buffy decided she wanted to see the countryside, so she took the train. Her luggage was packed, with new, non bloodstained dresses, fresh gloves, and the latest fashion hats. She set out, with her new lady’s maid, Annette, an orphan from one of those horrible orphanages that she cursed.

Annette was small and dainty, and reminded her of her dead sister. The small girl didn’t know that her benefactress was a demon, but then it really wasn’t important, as long as the girl did what she was told and helped Buffy up with her corset every morning.

The roads were quiet as they departed Buffy‘ fashionable apartment, still a few hours before dawn, Buffy hired a cab, heading towards La Gare du Nord.

“Madame Erixel?” inquired Annette once they were in the cab. “Why to Rome? Why not to your own country? I should very much like to see England.”

Buffy patted the girl’s head and stared out the window.

“Because Anyanka is right as always,” Buffy admitted with a sigh. “William is in Rome.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, silly, my friend keeps tabs on him for me.”

“Madame Anyanka?”

“No, Madame Reagan.”
__________________________________________
Buffy sat primly in the first class lounge debating on teleporting to Rome instead of waiting for the train to come. Teleporting would mean that Annette and all her stuff would have to travel on the train without her, and also revealing to Annette that she was not exactly human. That she really didn’t want to do. But she really hated sitting still. It reminded her too much of when she had been confined in that bed in the Watcher’s Council.

Buffy began to fidget.

Buffy wanted to do something, slay something.

“Watch the bags,” ordered Buffy, casting a glance at Annette who was darning a sock or something and walked out onto the platform.

The platform was dark, quiet, the only sounds coming from the coughs of other passengers who too had arrived early, and from the station staff who were moving trunks around. The million little things that humans did to prepare for a journey the she still did.

In so many ways she was still a human, dressing like them, keeping their traditions and social norms. Anyanka refused to act as a human after a vengeance job was complete. She went back to Arashamahar or to be with some demon friends.

Buffy’s only real demon friend was Anyanka. And William.

Always William.

Her thoughts turning to William didn’t really surprise her. They frequently did. However as she walked the platform she could see in the distance the very vampire she was thinking about. Walking directly in her direction, a bag over his shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped, grabbed a porter that had been working at that end of the platform and casting his bag aside for a moment, he sunk his fangs into the man’s neck.

For a moment Buffy forgot to breathe as she watched William drink. Then just as suddenly, William cast the corpse aside, grabbed his bag and continued his path to the main part of the platform.

Unconsciously, Buffy preened, tucking a stray hair back into place and biting down on her lips to make them appear redder.

“The station staff usually don’t allow people to arrive from this direction,” said Buffy as he walked closer towards the platform.

Without giving her another glance, William flashed Buffy some fang before continuing on his way, onto the platform and past her.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Buffy hiking her skirts a bit and following after him. “William Fairchilde you come back here this instant.”

His real name ringing through the station, William turned to face the woman he had thought merely another silly bint.

“Cecily?” he inquired, pushing his wavy brown curls out of his eyes.

“It’s good to see you William,” she said with a bob of a curtsey.

“Demon now pet, you don’t have to go on with the human platitudes.” His eyes raked over her, taking in the little changes that she’d acquired since their last meeting.

“Perhaps not, but they are familiar. I like the familiar.”

“Why are you in Paris then?” he asked setting down his bag with a thump.

“Business, you?”

“Angelus.”

Buffy nodded.

“Can’t stand the wanker anymore though, not without Dru to be a buffer. Just me and him, he’s a buggering git, and if he weren’t my grandsire...”

“Yes?” asked Buffy, eagerly awaiting a vengeance wish against the vampire that killed her father.

But William stopped. “You won’t get me there pet, hard as you try. I’ve heard about your work. Good stuff too, reminds me of my fledgling days.”

“You still are a fledgling William,” she reminded him with a tiny smirk.

“No, I’m not, only a fledge until your Sire decides you can get on without them. Drusilla’s not even in Paris I’ll have you know.”

“Really?” Buffy asked with interest.

“Ya, Darla and Dru up and left for Rome two weeks ago, leaving me with Peaches.”

“Are you on your way to Rome then?” she asked. “To get away from Angelus?”

“Ya, heard Dru took up with the Immortal...I’m going there to get her back.”

“William...” said Buffy sadly.

“I’m going by Spike now.”

“Spike.” Buffy smiled. “Why would you want to go back to Drusilla if she’s taken up with another man?”

Spike exhaled. “The ponce doesn’t love her, like I do, he’ll only grown tired of her, and then cast her aside.”

“Like she cast you aside?”

Spike was quiet for a bit, then smiled. “I see what you’re doing. It’s not going to work.”

“And what am I doing Spike?” Buffy asked.

Buffy walked closer to the vampire, and ran her hand down his arm.

“Cecily...” he growled, warning her off.

“Not Cecily, Spike.”

“Buffy...”

Buffy smiled. “Would it be so bad, Spike, to indulge in something both demons and humans find so pleasurable? Drusilla’s cheating on you, couldn’t you cheat on her for a change. I bet you don’t get any attention at all when Angelus is around.”

Buffy let her hand explore lower on his body, cupping the bulge in his trousers before taking his hand and placing it on her breast.

“Bloody hell woman.”

Buffy laughed. “Not interested?” she asked, pulling away from him, only to have her hand caught by his forceful grip.

“I’m interested,” said the vampire, pulling her close and sniffing at her neck.

“Demon, Spike, I don’t taste good.” She surprised herself with the sudden sultriness of her voice.

“How do you know?” he asked. “I’ve never had a Vengeance Demon before.” Spike licked a long slick trail from her ear lobe down to the top of the high lace collar of her dress.

“I’ve never had a Vampire before,” she added, earning a surprised look from Spike.

He looked like he was searching her eyes for something. Buffy stared back at him with equal intensity. “I’m going to today though,” she whispered into his ear before biting down gently on his lobe, causing a growl from the vamp.

Buffy took Spike’s hand and led him away from the side of the platform. Suddenly before her there was a black portal through which she walked, leading Spike along. As soon as they were through, the portal closed, leaving only burn marks on the pavement of the platform.
__________________________________________
tbc...
Chapter 6: The Right Thing, for all the Wrong Reasons

Buffy could smell the burnt odour from the portal closing and then the overwhelming and familiar scent of her unused lair in Arashamahar. She didn’t often return here, only when D’Hoffryn summoned her.

“I think you’re the only vampire to have actually been in Arashamahar, Spike,” she smiled up at him, lust in her eyes.

“Brought me to you demon lair, did you?” he asked, curling his tongue behind his teeth.

“I did, to have my naughty way with you,” she purred.

Spike growled, and lifted her skirts. Buffy lifted her leg to give him easier access, sharply inhaling as she felt his cold fingers trace up her bare thigh above her stocking. There was something to be said for skirts after all, she thought.

Spike grabbed her ass, lifting her up and against his rather obvious interest in the situation. His lips on her neck, they stumbled towards the bed. Landing roughly on her back, Spike making furious work of getting her out of her dress.

Running her hands through his wavy brown locks, she allowed herself a moment of rational thought. Which was hard when he was sliding his hands up and down her stocking clad legs. She wanted him, yes this much was true. She still loved him too, but the fact remained that underlying all the lust and the raw need to couple, he didn’t love her anymore.

She very much wanted to crush Drusilla into a little ball of dust and sweep her under the carpet. The sad reality was that, after William had taken from her what she was saving for him, and him alone, he would go back to his Sire, leaving her alone with her vengeance.

Her lips found his, and rational thought was squashed. Their tongues duelled each seeking dominance over the other. This wasn’t a coupling of lovers; this was the frantic union of two demons seeking revenge. And revenge was just what business Buffy was in nowadays.

Buffy felt the pop of buttons, as Spike tore her dress, the seams giving way from the back. In one fluid motion she had been left in her corset and stockings. And it turned her on.

“God, Buffy...” he gasped looking upon her disrobed state. “There was a time when I dreamed about this moment.”

And now? she thought but didn‘t voice the question for fear of what the answer might be.

Buffy dug her nails into his shirt and pulled it back, revealing his alabaster chest, complete with pectorals that just begged for her lips’ caress. Sliding her hands over his shoulders, Buffy pushed his shirt down and leaned forward, letting her tongue trace a slick trail from his neck to his right nipple and back again.

Spike groaned in appreciation of her administrations. With a twist of his fingers, her knickers lay ripped at the foot of the bed. Buffy gasped as she felt his nimble fingers feather along her weeping slit.

“Right wet you are for me too, Buffy. Been waiting long for this have ya now?” he teased.

Buffy nodded, her tongue in his ear. “I think you like teasing me, Spike. Be the vampire I know you are and take me.” Buffy clenched her legs around him and bit down on his lip with her blunt human teeth.

“I wonder how you taste pet,” said the vampire, spreading her legs and making his way to her molten core, nibbling along her thigh.

Buffy gasped again as his tongue made long licks along her slit, circling her clit. She had never thought that sex would feel this way. Though she would never admit it to Anyanka, Buffy was still a virgin. It was expected of a woman in her station, purity until marriage. It had taken Buffy a while but she had finally realised that not only did Anyanka come from a different culture than Buffy’s socially conscious British heritage, but that she had been definitely of a different class.

But this wasn’t the time to be thinking of class differences, or Anyanka for that matter. The attentions of William to her nether regions was much more distracting. Quickly he poked his tongue in and out of her quim, causing a whimper of pleasure to come from the demon’s mouth.

“Oh Spike,” she moaned, digging her fingernails in to the linens on the bed, supporting their exploits.

Swiftly, he replaced his tongue with his fingers and crept up the length of her body once more. She felt a tug, and heard the sound of fabric sliding down legs. Buffy tried to form a mental picture of her William with out a stitch of clothing on. As it was, with her on her back, she could only see his flawless upper body. With a hard yank, Spike pulled Buffy towards him and positioned himself at her entrance.

Buffy shook with nervousness but gave a slight nod of her head, assent for what was to come next. Slowly, as if he knew that this was her first time, he slid into her taking great care not to hurt her.

The feeling of him filling her felt so right, like he was the perfect size to fill that particular chasm within her. Slowly, Buffy started rocking back against him, his fingers digging into her hips and her garter belt that she was still wearing. The sensations were wondrous, and she suddenly felt like nothing in this dimension or on earth had prepared her for this experience.

“Buffy, god, you are so hot, tight quim,” said her lover as he began pounding into her harder and harder.

He supposed that since it was her first time that he should be gentle, but, another voice in his head said to him, she’s a demon now, she can take it.

That thought was pushed to the back of his brain as he realised exactly what he had done, the demon in him rejoicing that he had had her first. The man in him trembled at the fact. She had saved herself for him. It struck a chord so deep. He had envisioned this moment for a long time, all throughout his desperate courting of his Cecily.

The early morning romp had started as a way to get back at Drusilla: he had thought it was good reason. Now as Cecily’s...no Buffy’s walls milked his manhood for all it was worth, he wondered how he had fallen out of love with her so quickly.

Her cute moans and mews caused him to step up his rhythm of his thrusts. She was beautiful as she had ever been. Like him she would never age. She was his first love, and she had ripped out his heart, stomped on it, then begged his forgiveness. It was hard to think of her transgressions while he was buried in her hot pussy, or the reason why he hadn’t done this in all the years they had been casually bumping into each other.

“I thought you wanted to taste me?” she asked coyly, her hands now grasping at the headboard of the bed.

Spike growled and smiled, bringing his vampire features out to play. Buffy smiled at his transformation. He leaned his head down, still relentlessly pounding into her, and slipped his fangs into her unblemished neck.

Buffy screamed at the pleasurable feeling of him sucking away her blood. She had barely felt the puncture of his fangs in her skin, but the pulling on her blood had brought her to orgasm, something that before now she had only heard about from Anyanka.

“Spike!” she screamed, her voice echoing off the stone walls of her lair.

He followed her within moments, her blood painting his lips. He rolled off of her, licking his lips and making smacking noises.

“Doesn’t taste quite like I thought it would,” he noted to the ceiling. “Not bad mind you, but not something to write home about.”

Buffy rolled over and placed her hand on her lover’s bare alabaster chest.

“I told you I wouldn’t taste good, demon after all,” she said with a smile.

“You did warn me,” he conceded.

There was a pause. The awkwardness of what they had just done filled the room.

“The train, Spike.”

“Sod the bloody train, you can teleport...”said the vampire rolling over to cover his body with hers once more, thinking he should take advantage of this most pleasant situation.

Buffy let out a giggle. “Are you saying that you enjoyed your time in Arashamahar then?” she asked, tracing the contours of his face with her index finger.

“Wasn’t bad, wouldn’t mind having another go.”

Buffy could feel that what he said was true. His manly member was making its presence known along her thigh. Buffy moaned in pleasure as he started kissing her neck again, pushing her pendant out of the way.

“Such a pretty neck, Buffy, too pretty to be hidden under this gawdy thing,” he said as he lifted the pendant off her skin.

In a flash, Buffy’s fingers were covering his. “It’s what keeps me a demon Spike. Remove that and I go back to being what I was.”

“And what were you pet?” he asked with a glint in his eye.

“A Slayer, a girl that was forced to break the heart of someone she loved.”

Spike rolled off of her once more, and reached for his trousers. Buffy sat up, knowing she‘d said the wrong thing.

“Spike...William?”

“Just leave it,” he barked, sliding his trousers up over his legs.

Buffy scooted off the bed and found a new dress in her closet. “I didn’t ask you to love me back you know. I was just stating a fact that we keep dancing around.”

“I don’t love you anymore Cecily.”

“I know that William. You love her, Drusilla, the one that’s off with the Immortal right now, probably screaming his name out in ecstasy.”

Spike let out a growl. “You shut your trap about her! You sent me into her arms, she made me what I am now.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she wailed. “You think I don’t wish that I could grant my own wishes and wish that this had never happened, that I had run away with you, the Council be damned. We would have been on the run, but we would have been happy.”

Spike snorted.

“No,” said Buffy, sinking to her knees in front of the trouser clad vampire. “William, those things I said, they were cruel, and I’m so very sorry. Every time I see you, I tell you I am sorry because I truly am. And if I have to grovel at your feet for all eternity, I will. I’ve lost my chance with you. I did that when I stepped on your heart in Mrs. Sinclair’s parlour. I know that. It doesn't make me happy. But you have to believe that at the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. I was trying to protect you.”

“From Angelus,” he murmured.

“From Angelus,” she confirmed.

“Who is right now waiting for me on that soddin’ train to Rome.”

Buffy nodded. The train. Rome, and his return to Drusilla. Buffy stood up and set about restoring her clothing and hair into a style that was presentable to the public. She turned from her mirror to see that Spike had found his shirt and it wasn’t too damaged.

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded and she grabbed his hand and led him through the portal that instantly appeared before her.
__________________________________________
With the smell of smoke filling the air around them, Buffy and Spike reappeared on the train platform metres from where they had left it. The platform was crowded now, and the train was sitting on the tracks and boarding.

“Madame Erixel!” called Annette at the other end of the platform.

The hiss of the train and the mêlée of passengers trying to get on the train made having a conversation impossible.

“Will I see you on the train?” asked Buffy, holding his hand even tighter.

“You will,” said the vampire, relinquishing her hand and fading into the crowd that surrounded them.

“Madame Erixel!” called Annette again, this time she had spotted her employer and was running towards her. “Madame, the trunks, they are on the train, and here is your bag. We must board the train, or it will leave without us!”

Buffy nodded and let the girl lead her to her first class seat.
__________________________________________
tbc...

 

Living Vengeance
By Ariel Dawn

Summery: Buffy’s train ride to Rome.

Disclaimer: The Characters of BTVS and ATS are the property of Joss Whedon and various other people/entities. I am only using them for fun and entertainment only. This is the sad reality that hits me when I wake up from my naked Spike filled dreams.

Author’s note: Thanks again to the fab Bloodytearsoflife who beta’d and came up with the chapter title when I’d seriously had drawn a blank.
__________________________________________
Chapter 7: Unmet Expectations

Buffy settled down into her first class cabin unsure of her own feelings. Somewhere on this train, Spike was probably sneaking aboard. She had done what Anyanka had suggested, it hadn’t worked. But she hadn’t really expected it to either.

Annette hadn’t noticed the change of dress. Or just refused to mention it. One of these days she was going to have to explain to Annette exactly what she was. She just hoped that it could be done with a minimal amount of screaming and fainting.

Buffy tugged at her high lace collar. It was scratching against her bite marks. His bite marks. It wasn’t making love or any of that romantic stuff that you read about in novels. In truth she likened it to rutting like animals. But that’s what they were right? Demons driven to passion. She wanted it to be so much more than that though.

“Madame? Have you ever been to Rome?” asked Annette, getting out her darning.

Buffy shook her head. No she had not been to Rome. She supposed she should have been in the course of her few years as a Vengeance Demon, but she had not. More interested in stalking her William than doing Vengeance. Not that she hadn’t given D’Hoffryn his quota for each month.

Vengeance was turning out to be a sad thing to live on.

As the train started to move, and Paris seemed to glide away to reveal early morning French countryside, Buffy tried to make sense of what her life had become. It all came back to the fact that she had been a Slayer. Cursing the day that Giles had told her and her parents for what she was destined, seemed to bring her out of her depression a little. Well, that, and Spike’s appearance at the door to her compartment.

“Posh, pet,” were his opening words. Spike tossed his bag down on the vacant seat in front of Annette and took an appreciative leer at Buffy, seated against the window.

“This is a private cabin, monsieur,” said Annette angrily, standing up. “Madame does not wish to be disturbed by the likes of you!”

Spike started to chuckle at the fiery nature of this little one who was defending her mistress so resolutely.

“I have disturbed Madame a great deal already today, nibblet. And I’ll go right on disturbing Madame,” said Spike with a smirk.

“Annette...” said Buffy in a warning to her maid.

“Madame Erixel! This...ruffian is disturbing you!” protested Annette again.

“No, Annette, he is not. Annette, I’d like you to meet Mr. William,” said Buffy with a smile on her face.

“Oh!” the girl’s face lit up at last putting a face to the name that captured her mistress’ attentions. “I most humbly beg your pardon then Monsieur William. It is truly a pleasure to meet you.” With a small curtsey, Annette took up her darning again and sat down as if nothing was amiss.

Buffy suppressed a laugh, allowing the tiniest of smiles to grace her lips for the briefest of moments.

“Well, pet, did you not ask to see me on the train?” asked Spike.

“I did. I had not anticipated it so early in the journey.”

“I don’t fancy sitting in the cold luggage car when I could be sitting in the lap of luxury, or doing other things in said lap.”

Buffy blushed.

“You are more than welcome to share my compartment with Annette and I, William. However, I must say that should the conductor come and ask for your ticket, you are going to be left without any help from me.”

Spike sat down beside Buffy, and put his legs up on the facing seat. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been left to my own devices where Angelus is concerned, pet. Poncy bugger.”

Buffy nodded. “And where is your Grandsire Spike?”

“I don’t rightly know. On this train, somewhere. Probably defiling a nun or some such thing. Wanker.”

“Because you would never defile a nun...”

Spike looked at her aghast. “I bloody well would not. I’m evil pet, not sadistic. How many nuns have you killed then?”

Buffy stole a brief glance at Annette who was happily darning socks.

“Oh is that how it is then? The little one doesn’t know what you are?”

“Oh I know what Madame Erixel is monsieur. She is a Vengeance Demon, like Madame Anyanka and you are a Vampire.”

“Since when did you come to that conclusion?” asked an astounded Buffy.

Annette gave Buffy a coy smile. “Since you took me from the orphanage.”

“Well you should have told me! I’ve been avoiding teleporting in front of you for ages!”

Annette laughed.

“I like you, Bit,” said Spike, “Got an evil streak in you. So what’s the total nun deaths then, just curious...”

“A lady does not reveal her body count, Spike,” protested Buffy.

“And who told you that?” asked the vampire with a leer.

“Anyanka.”

“The great Anyanka has been giving you tips on the way ladies behave? That’s rich.”

“Anyanka is a great lady,” said Buffy defending her friend.

“I heard she was a peasant!”

“I don’t believe you, William, how can you judge? You certainly don’t live life like you did when you were human. Hiding in luggage cars? Like a common tramp?”

Spike’s brow darkened. “Got to be careful how and when I touch my money, pet, the poof and the whore like to spend money like there is no tomorrow. You and I know different though, don’t we?”

Buffy nodded, suddenly far too aware of the fact that his lips were only inches from hers and that if she dared, she could kiss him. Her reverie was interrupted though, by the sound of a body, thumping up against the compartment door. The three occupants of the compartment turned to look at the source of the thump.

The conductor was slowly sliding down the glass, blood trickling from his nose and mouth, the blood painting a brilliant trail of red down the glass, puddling on the floor. As the unfortunate man slid to the floor, Buffy found herself looking at the conductor’s murderer. Angelus was looking directly at them.

Buffy was up in an instant. “Annette, stand up!” ordered Buffy.

The confused little girl stood, clutching her darning to her chest.

“Madame?” she whispered in a scared voice.

Buffy grabbed Annette’s hand and twisted so that the child was looking at her and not Angelus. “I’m sending you somewhere. Don’t be frightened. Don’t move from that room. Do you understand?”

Annette nodded, then gasped in shock as Buffy opened a portal and pushed Annette through it.

“That’s the Slayer I know and love, then,” came Angelus’ accented voice. “Saving the wee ones and then facing me yourself. It’s touching really. I’ve missed you Slayer.”

“Not a Slayer anymore Angelus,” quipped the former Slayer. “From what I hear, the real Slayer is some girl in Russia.”

“Oh not for me, lass,” cooed the Master Vampire.

“Oh isn’t that touching?” replied Buffy sarcastically. “What do you want, Angelus? There’s no one for you to eat here...”

“Oh not now is there? You sent the tasty morsel away. There’s still you though. I wonder what one of Arashamahar’s beauties taste like?”

“You won’t be finding out Angelus,” said Buffy at once. “Ever.”

Angelus raised a hand to his chest. “Oh, that cuts me to the quick Elizabeth. After all these years, my Slayer doesn’t appreciate my attention.”

“I was never your Slayer Angelus,” said Buffy, crossing her arms.

Angelus ignored her comment. “And what does wee William think of all this? You knew her when you were a human didn’t you? What do you think of her now that she’s a demon? Not quite so pure and virginal is she? Does it bother you that I had her first boy?”

Spike gritted his teeth but said nothing, he was already accustomed to Angelus’ taunting by now.

“You never had me, Angelus. And you know it,” Buffy snapped back at him.

Angelus stepped forward towards the former Slayer. “Your pretty little mouth tells lies, Elizabeth. Your body knows different.” His eyes travelled up and down her body and for once Buffy was glad the dress she was wearing was English designed and not French, her cleavage contained by the high collar of her Victoria travelling dress.

Buffy couldn’t help it anymore, she started to laugh. “What a joke!” she spat. “Given the fact that this whole taunting session is for the benefit of Spike, I do not believe that you would seriously continue with this whole charade! You have not had me, I do not lie, and Spike here knows that I am not lying, Angelus.”

“And how does he know?” whispered Angelus.

And evil smile crept over Buffy’s face. As much fun as it would be to tell Angelus that she had had known Spike carnally, the ramifications for Spike would be horrendous. She didn’t want to imagine the beating Spike would get from his Grandsire.

“He knows Angelus, because William knows me better than any other vampire risen,” she said with a gleam in her eye.

She saw Spike relax, and casually sit down next to the window in Annette‘s seat. The blind was drawn on that side and the sun coming from the other side of the train. She had no fears of his bursting in to flame.

“I hope you eating the conductor didn’t have any effect on the speed of the train, I really do want to get to Rome...” Buffy added nonchalantly.

“Found the frog defiling some young lass in the loo...”

“And you just had to have what he was having...” Buffy rolled her eyes in disgust. “I wonder how Darla puts up with all your philandering? Oh wait that’s right, she’s in Rome with the Immortal.”

“My whore of a Sire, she’s a special one isn’t she William? She wouldn’t mind if I took the whole Russian ballet to bed with me as long as I returned to her when she called. Just like she wouldn’t mind if I took a pretty Vengeance Demon to bed with me on this train...”

“Oh, ewww. I’ve not heard a more vile proposition since... well ever, actually. I’m sure you can find more easily coerced ladies on this train, Angelus. This lady is not.”

Spike laughed.

There was a commotion in the hallway, some passengers had discovered the bodies of the conductor and the girl. There was a knock on her door just as it swung open.

“Madame, there is a dangerous criminal on the train, and a body outside your door,” said the voice of another conductor, this one toting a gun.

“Oh yes, conductor, I know, for this man,” Buffy pointed at Angelus, “He is the murderer!”

Buffy smiled sickly sweet at the master vampire. The conductor raised his gun at Angelus.

“Monsieur, you are under arrest!”

Angelus rolled his eyes.

“You are starting to get on my nerves,” said Angelus to Buffy.

“Yes, that maybe, however if he shoots you, it will still hurt. Besides, won’t it be more thrilling to have a captive audience elsewhere? I expect that after a while our conversation would have revolved around the same topics. Please, Monsieur Conductor, take him away. He is greatly disturbing the journey my brother and I are taking on your train.”

Spike perked up when Buffy said that he was her brother.

“Your brother?” asked Angelus.

“Come with me Monsieur,” motioned the conductor.

Angelus followed, no wanting a large whole shot through him, or his fancy clothes wrecked.

“Your brother?” asked Spike once Angelus was safely out of the hearing range, and the shots and screaming rang out through the corridors of the train.

“It popped into my head,” she shrugged.

“How long do you think you will stay in Rome?” he asked, picking at a stray thread on his shirt.

“I don’t know, it depends on where Anyanka will want me next. What about you? After you rescue Drusilla and Darla from the evil clutches of the Immortal, where will you go?”

“Is up to Angelus and Darla really.”

Buffy nodded. “Why do you stay with them, if they treat you so badly?”

Spike exhaled. “They are family pet, I belong with them.”

“I wish you didn’t belong with them at all.”

“We’ve had this conversation pet.”

“I know.”

There was a pause in the cabin. Each demon refused to look at the other. At that moment, the train lurched, sending the unprepared demon sprawling on top of Spike. There was a silence that filled the cabin as Buffy unavoidably caught his blue eyes and gave him an apologetic look. His arms felt so good around her. Putting her hands out to steady herself, she accidentally brushed his manhood. She blushed, but then went white as he stiffened around her, and not in a good way. Spike lifted her prone form off of his body and set her down up on the seat that he had once occupied, resuming a standing position in the middle of the cabin himself.

“Well I’d best find out what the wanker’s gotten himself into, no doubt the git is full of bloody holes. We’ll have to hide in some farm house whilst he heals up.”

“Spike...” Buffy started only to be interrupted.

“Best go and find your little maid then, the bit’s probably out of her mind.”

“Annette!” Buffy stood up and was about to open a portal when she realised something. “You won’t be here when I return will you?”

“No,” he answered quietly.

Buffy nodded. “I will see you around though, no doubt.”

“No doubt.”

“If you ever need...”

“I know just who to call for, pet. Makes me feel right powerful, knowin’ I have a bloody Vengeance Demon who’ll come runnin’ if ever I need her,” he said, cocking his eye brow up implying innuendo.

Buffy smiled. “It’s true,” she whispered. Buffy turned and opened a portal where she had before and slipped in, casting a longing look at William before it closed.
__________________________________________
Buffy entered her lair to find Annette curled up on her bed, which had been made. The little brunette was just so cute sleeping in the soft covers that Buffy had to stop a moment and gaze at the scene.

“Madame?” said Annette sleepily. “Is it time to go back to the train?”

Buffy nodded and held out her hand for the little girl to hold. Annette scooted off the bed and held on tight to Buffy’s hand.

“Will I get to see Monsieur William again?” asked Annette.

“Someday Annette, someday.”

tbc...

Living Vengeance
By Ariel Dawn

Summery: Buffy’s business in Rome.

Disclaimer: The Characters of BTVS and ATS are the property of Joss Whedon and various other people/entities. I am only using them for fun and entertainment only. This is the sad reality that hits me when I wake up from my naked Spike filled dreams.

Author’s note: Once again hugs to my fabulous Beta, BTL who tried to add a tid bit of hope to this rather angsty chapter.
__________________________________________
Chapter 8: If Wishes were Vampires

“Tell me about The Immortal,” Buffy requested of Anyanka as they walked down the corridor, to D’Hoffryn’s audience chamber.

“What’s to tell? He’s a menace, thinks he’s all high and mighty, because he did the gods a favour once upon a time and they granted him immortality.” Anyanka waved her hands about as she talked, the flick of her wrist telling Buffy it was nothing great. It got Buffy wondering exactly what the Immortal had done to merit such a gift.

“You know him?” Buffy asked.

“I’ve met him on occasion, it’s hard not bumping into him while in Rome, he tends to have his fingers in pies that aren’t his business.”

Buffy nodded. Since she had heard about the Immortal and his connection to Spike, she desired to know everything about him. And more importantly if he could really make Drusilla abandon Spike.

“You are still thinking about your vampire!” Anyanka cried out. “Erixel! I thought I told you to take him to bed and get him out of your mind!”

“You did,” Buffy conceded. But it didn’t work, she mentally added.

“And?” she prompted. “Did you?”

Buffy looked into the eyes of her friend and lied. “No, Anyanka.”

“Trust me, once you do it, it will be over and done with. You’ll thank me,” the older demon added with a tiny pat on Buffy’s back.

The had reached the entrance to D’Hoffryn’s chamber and pushed open the door.

“D’Hoffryn!” Anyanka greeted. “I hope this staff meeting is short, I postponed some truly ingenious plans for this event,” Anyanka commented, turning every demon’s attention towards her.
__________________________________________
Buffy returned from her monthly staff meeting with D’Hoffryn to find Annette waiting patiently in her Rome apartment. Her monthly quota had been upped, again. She only hoped that the Italian people had more ingenious ideas about vengeance than the French. She was tired of coming home with blood on her clothes.

After sending the girl on an errand to fetch some gloves, for Buffy was in constant need of new gloves, the former Slayer sat down at the small desk situated in front of her bedroom window and sighed.

She had been held at the train station while the authorities discussed the nature of the killings. Spike, nor Angelus had been found on the train. This did, however, give her time to do some impromptu vengeance wishes for some of the passengers that were scattered about the station.

Annette had looked on in wonder as Buffy’s demon face was brought to the fore each time she said that the wish had been granted. She wished that Annette wasn’t so fascinated by her demon side.

Buffy took out a slip of paper from her desk and began to write out a letter. Reagan had to be informed of her new address, though she didn’t know how long she was going to be here. It all depended on how long William stayed in Rome with his family.

Buffy scoffed. His family, she thought bitterly. His family that tortures him, that doesn’t appreciate him, that is intent on turning him into a monster. A family that he’d rather stay with than with you, she had to tell herself.

Staring out into the grimy street Buffy suddenly felt very dirty. She had given herself to William for the most idiotic of reasons, to get over him. To use him, which was what Anyanka thought all men were good for. She had to come to the realisation that there was no hope of her falling out of love with him. She just had to find a way to keep the fact of him from interfering with her life.

Buffy shook her head and extolling her problems to Reagan on paper. Explaining all of her William related woes to Reagan usually did a world of good for her heart.

“Madame!” squealed Annette’s voice gleefully from the hallway.

Reluctantly, Buffy put down her pen and turned in her seat, just in time to see Annette enter the room, papers fluttering in her hand while the girl clutched a package wrapped in brown paper.

“Madame! I have here a list of all the orphanages in the area, and your new gloves.” Annette smiled up at her mistress expectantly.

Buffy smiled softly and petted the girl’s head. She was so eager to please and so completely unprepared for what this life was like.
__________________________________________
Enjoying the calm night air, Buffy set about gathering information for her next large scale infiltration. Her specialty was orphans, mainly because she was one. She had tried schools but it seemed that the orphanages had the most abuse occurring within their walls.

This particular one was for girls, and run by the church. No novelty there. Buffy looked up at the solid stone walls and shuddered. It was so much like the Watcher’s Council it made her stomach queasy. She pressed on despite her sick feeling, her need for information winning out. There were things every Vengeance Demon needed to know before entering a site, like what to wear. This orphanage looked pretty strict, she didn’t know if she could just walk in off the street and see the children or whether she had to be given a referral by a priest. Maybe she should just forget the whole thing and pretend to be a nun.

Pretend to be a nun. That brought back memories. William memories.

So what’s the total nun deaths then, just curious...”

“A lady does not reveal her body count, Spike.”

No! Bad brain! Thinking about William, unproductive! Buffy tried to convince herself.

Buffy hiked her skirts up to ascend the stairs when something shiny caught her eye. In the street was a man, he had an air of confidence about him and at once Buffy knew that this was the Immortal she had heard so much about.

He was flipping a coin in his hand, which was catching the moonlight. Buffy stopped what she was doing and trod down the steps heading in his direction.

“You are new,” he said plainly, a hint of an accent. “How old are you, demon?”

Buffy scoffed. “A lady does not reveal her age sir. Whatever your impressive heritage maybe, you will not find me so easily manipulated.”

“Elevated when you were seventeen?” he stated, slowly beginning to circle her.

“Yes,” she answered, though she really didn’t see the need for her to answer, his eyes telling her he knew more than what he was saying.

“You are young then. Aurelius is interested in you...Can’t think why...Perhaps they see something in you others cannot. Must be a vampire thing.” His hand brushed a ringlet of her blond hair to the side of her face before looking into her green eyes. Buffy shivered. It was as if he was looking right through her.

“If you are talking about the Order of Aurelius, I know of only two vampires from that line who have anything to do with me.”

“You were a Slayer,” he continued on, his eyes scanning her face.

“If you knew all of this before you met me, why, pray tell are you stating the obvious?” Buffy asked with a raised eyebrow.

The Immortal simply chose to ignore her question, posing one of his own. “Do you like to annoy those who are more powerful than yourself?”

Buffy smiled. “Are you going to tell me to get out of your city? The high and mighty Immortal lowers himself to tell a simple and young Vengeance Demon to get out of his city?”

“No.”

“No?” she asked confused.

“I wanted to see what they saw in you.”

“Saw? Past tense?” Buffy’s voice was laden with fear.

“No need to worry, dear demon.” He reached up to brush her cheek, but Buffy pulled back. “William the Bloody and Angelus are perfectly alright, still undead. I only was curious. Angelus speaks of you as his own.”

“I am not his,” she snapped.

“No, you belong to someone else.” The immortal reached up to Buffy’s neck, pulling down the lace collar to reveal Spike’s healed bite marks.

Buffy’s hand flew to her neck.

“How did you know?” she asked.

“I think it’s quite interesting that a Vengeance Demon, so highly feared, would allow herself to be marked by a vampire, a half breed.”

Buffy raised her head up higher, not allowing the Immortal to see inside her cleverly made up façade of Erixel the Vengeance Demon.

“You are proud of his marks. I apologise, I had no idea you were so in love with this creature, this thing that is so far beneath you.”

“You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me.”

Her own words thundered in her head.

“Is there any point to this?” Buffy asked disdainfully.

“The point, young demon, is that I have now seen what they find so appealing. We shall meet again.,” he promised, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to it before she could pull back.

And with that he turned and walked away.

Well at least I can tell Anyanka that I’ve met the Immortal,thought Buffy as she climbed the steps of the orphanage once more.
__________________________________________
In the end Buffy managed to get into the orphanage without a referral by a priest, or in a nun’s habit.

The nuns had been more than happy to let Buffy walk around the orphanage and talk to the girls in the dormitory. She suspected that they wanted her to adopt more than one.

Buffy sat at the bed of one of the little girls, her blond hair freshly washed. The girl, Antonia, had been telling her a fantastic tale of how she was forced to wash the shit out of the baby’s nappies because the nuns were cruel and unjust.

Buffy nodded in understanding.

“You know what I would wish?” said the little girl, Buffy listening attentively. “I would wish that something would come and scare the nuns so badly that they would crap in their pants and have to wash it out. Maybe Vampires.” Antonia laughed at the thought of vampires.

Buffy laughed too. She had the perfect vampires for the job.

“Wish granted,” said Buffy shifting into her demon face for a moment. “I certainly hope that this makes you learn the phase be careful what you wish for.”

Antonia screamed and fainted dead away at Buffy’s face. With a laugh and a smile, Buffy flicked her wrist, making the Scourge of Europe appear in the dormitory.

“What the bloody buggering hell is this?” came Spike’s voice.

“Where are we?” asked the loony Drusilla in her fairy like voice.

The older members of the family directed their attention to the cause of their teleportation.

“You!” spat Darla, her vamp bumpies coming out.

Buffy smiled right back at the blond vampire. “Yes, me. Hello Darla,” said Buffy pleasantly.

“Why’d ya bring us here?” asked Angelus.

“Business,” she said. “Nothing more,” she stated, staring Angelus straight in the eye. “ A vengeance wish, you are to terrorize these nuns.”

“We don’t follow your orders, Slayer!” barked Darla.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “So don’t follow my orders then. Perhaps you’d like to take advantage of the situation that I’ve put you in? You are in an orphanage, in the daylight, with dozens of people helpless and afraid. What do you normally do in this situation?” Buffy asked.

“Can you smell it daddy, they’re all afraid of us and the Slayer Demon,” whispered Drusilla into Angelus’ ear as Spike stared on with anger. “And look, Daddy! Nuns! Like I was! You like the way they taste.”

“It’s up to you, you are free to go and do as you please. The wish was for vampires to come and terrorise, nothing more, I think you’ve accomplished your task,” said Buffy, standing up from her seat on the bed, and turning to exit the dormitory. There were other floors to visit.

“Where the bleeding hell are you going?” asked Spike, putting his hand on her elbow.

“I have things to do. Unlike you, I have a job to do,” she retorted, using indifference to cover up her true feelings.

“You can tell me why you brought us here...” Spike looked her in the eye, his blue depths searching her own.

“It isn’t my fault that the child asked for vampires. You and the rest were the first ones I thought of. I could have chosen any vampire to carry out this task. Consider yourself fortunate that I thought of you. And this way you can add to your body count, nun wise.”

Buffy dislodged his hand from her elbow and headed out the door into the hallway and up the stairs. She clenched her fists in frustration at him. This wasn’t about him. Ok, I’m really trying to convince myself it isn’t about him, she thought.

The next floor up she found another dormitory of children, older, about Annette’s age. A nun in the corner was attempting to lead a lesson about how young ladies should act.

“Can I help you miss?” asked the nun.

“Oh Sister, I beg your pardon for interrupting your lesson. Mother Superior said that I might meet some of the children. I am thinking about adopting...”

The sister smiled and beckoned her further into the room. With confidence, Buffy approached, only to stop when the nun’s face turned from warm welcome to panicked. Buffy turned to look behind her to find that Spike had followed her up the stairs.

“You were supposed to wait down stairs!” Buffy hissed. Spike wasn’t in game face, but it was clear that this was a girl’s only institution and the presence of man was shocking indeed.

“I bloody well will not!” he protested.

Buffy smiled apologetically at the sister and led Spike back to the doorway.

“Spike! I can’t have you in here!” Buffy let go of Spike’s arm and closed the door behind her.

Spike frowned as she released his arm, telling himself that the empty feeling was only because the smell of fear was blocked, not because she let go of him. His anger for even thinking it causing him to snap at her. “Oh afraid I’ll muck up your pretty plans? Bloodshed and exploding entrails? I’m up for a fun time.”

Buffy exhaled deeply. “It doesn’t work that way, I have to get the wish out of the child first! With you here I won’t get a bloody thing out of the children! Go back to your sire and do whatever it is that you were put on this earth to do!” she said with no little venom in her voice.

She was so angry.

“That’s right, was put on this green earth to get my heart ripped out by a sweet looking girl who pretended to like me, so that I could get turned by my dark princess and kill nuns. I get it,” he said solemnly.

Buffy cringed. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Just how did you mean it?”

Spike waited for her to respond and Buffy stared at him unable to formulate a response.

“It seems to me pet, that you are rather intent on trying to make yourself mad at me, for what reason, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” said Buffy incredulously before she could bite her tongue.

“I see it now,” he said, catching her chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting her pouting face upwards to face him. “Regret what happened pet?”

“Never,” she said with a hardness setting in behind her eyes.

“You knew I’d go back to her afterwards,” he said quietly, his lips a bare whisper from hers.

“I did,” she said firmly. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Buffy jerked her chin out of his grasp and headed out of the dormitory and down the stairs. She had to get out of there before she started crying. Her little feet carried her further and further away from him, but her tears came closer and closer to the surface.

“Buffy!” he called after her. He could smell the salt from the tears that were begging to fall from her eyes.

Buffy had reached the main door of the building and was standing in a patch of sunlight where he could not follow. He hovered near the edge, watching her intently. Buffy breathed in deeply and turned slowly to face him.

“Go back to Drusilla, Spike.”
__________________________________________
tbc...