Mastery
by ComedyofErrors
*banner by oracleholly*

Angelus smiled.  It was never a pleasant sight.  It meant someone, or something, was suffering, usually by his hand, though he did delight in all misery. 

It was his way.  The frail blonde creature was curled in on itself, like a broken bird, with its arms splayed to either side, and its legs tucked to its chest.  The hair was tangled, streaked with mud, and carrying not a few leaves.  It belonged here, in the cemetery, as its heart no longer beat.  It would be kind to leave it to the sun.  But if he wanted to be kind, he would never have fed it his blood.

She’d been ill, he realized when he tasted her.  The illness left him slightly dizzy when he drank from the savage cut on the side of her neck.  It was so ragged it would scar, even in her new fast-healing existence.  Not that she would have the existence for long, but it was necessary for her to know that she was marked.  It was all a part of his artistry.  He would have to abuse her for having been sick; circumstances beyond their control were wonderful reasons to torture a fledge.  It broke the childe into such lovely pieces.

He’d made it a childe.  He had debated with himself, but of course it couldn’t be a minion.  Minions rose with their skills in place, and were dependent only on their own hunting abilities.  A childe depended on its master.  It knew nothing.  And it would have feelings and emotions a minion could not begin to be capable of.  It could know true anguish, as only an intelligent being could.

Minions screamed.  Childer wept.  The latter was more to his taste.

He lifted her from the ground, and slung her over his shoulder.  He could have injured her now, but there was no point.  It was only pleasant if she was conscious.  And conscious of what she now was.  He would have preferred her to be a virgin, so that each time she would heal, and be hurt the next, but then if she were a virgin, he wouldn’t be here, would he?

She was innocent though.  Only once touched by a man, and so tenderly that she had no real conception of what he could do to her.  He would degrade her slowly, adding each time a layer of filth to her, until she could see nothing but the dirt she was.  He would give her no comfortable pattern, so that each time she would wonder at what trick he would perform.  He would need to consider carefully when to let Drusilla have her fun.  How wonderful to be a vampire, where incest was the way of unlife.  The little slayer would no doubt be shocked to find her own sister abusing her.

He was approaching the mansion.  He liked it so much better than the factory.  Spike may have been content to live in a hovel, but a discerning vampire needed a suitably respectable lair.  Oh, Spike.  There could be another layer in the torment, for both his injured grandchilde and the new being on his shoulder.  Oh yes.

He entered the mansion and went to his room.  He tossed his new childe negligently on a sofa beside the bed.  He stripped, then showered.  He’d have to send a minion out for new bath soaps.  With both Dru and himself using this bedroom and bathroom, the supplies ran out faster, especially considering how often he took her in the shower.  She was well versed in its erotic uses, one of the few things Spike had educated her in over the years.  Perhaps he should get the boy a thank you note for keeping her warmed up.

Slayer blood was as potent as Spike had boasted, so that even though he’d given her most of her blood back, he was not hungry.  He felt like playing.  He wondered when Dru would return.  If Spike had any feeling below the waist he would just use him, but the insolent little bastard was wounded, and that made him useless for the kind of physical torture he had in mind.

Still, mental torture could satisfy for the moment.
*****
Spike lay on the bed, as always.  He had to conserve his strength.  His legs needed healing, and he couldn’t spare the blood needed to roam about the mansion in the chair.  It had started after Angelus returned from the mall, frustrated at the Judge’s destruction.  Dru or the minions had always brought him someone to eat when they returned at night.  Sometimes Dru fed him herself. 

But the fresh food stopped that night.  He had tried ordering the minions to fulfill their duty by him.  He was a Master of their Order, they should have no choice but to obey.  Unless someone superior to him in the bloodline ordered them not to.  That meant Dru or her sire.  He could never believe that of Dru.  He could only assume that Angelus liked him weak.

He was weak.  But not as frail as he should have been on a starvation diet.  He’d been a good Master to his minions before his injury.  He’d never dusted them without cause.  And now he was being paid for it.  Four remained loyal.  They hated Angelus, both for their own sake and for his. 

One he had convinced to break into the library, and steal a book on the treatment of spinal injuries.  They split the risk of bringing him pig or beef blood from the butcher while Angelus hunted.  Then, a few nights ago, Jacob and Alexa had even managed to bring him an entire cooler of bagged human blood being disposed of by the hospital.

He was feeling the effects of it in his system.  Never mind that it was old, and it was the first time he’d fed fully in weeks, as his emaciated form showed.  His legs had begun to tingle.  Sporadic nerve signals traveled to his brain, in response to imagined stimuli, if he understood the book correctly.  Mostly, he felt pain.  Sometimes a dull ache radiated from one limb to the next.  Sometimes sharp spasms stole through him.  But he didn’t care.  The sensations were heavenly as far as he was concerned.  It gave him hope, something he had long since given up on.

It was still painful, though.  He occasionally wished for a distraction, to keep the pain at bay until he had more use of the limbs.  He was learning to walk again, slowly.  But his atrophied muscles couldn’t take much at any one time.  Tonight, he’d filled his quota.  His legs had buckled under him after struggling a few moments too long, and he’d had to crawl off the floor of his room and onto the bed.  He was massaging them gently, through the jeans.  His book had given the directions on how to ease the strain.

He heard and Angelus coming down the hallway.  Was he skipping?  That could not possibly be good for anyone.  Spike slumped farther into bed, trying to look as though he’d been resting.  At least he’d taken his boots off.

Angelus burst through the door.  Spike was in bed as expected.  He wondered vaguely who was feeding him.  He hadn’t expected the boy to give up and starve himself, wouldn’t have allowed it in fact.  Spike was far too much fun to torment.  That sensitive poet half begged to be teased, and always would.  No one else could reach inside and rip his heart out like Angelus.  The abuser always had such power, he’d found.

“Well, well, my boy, lyin’ about at this time o’ night?”  The Irish in his natural voice was diluted from travel, but he called it forth from time to time to annoy or entertain.  Even if it was as fake as Spike’s own Cockney.

“I was planning to go get some take out.  Want to go along?”  Spike knew better than to remain silent.  Silence was an invitation to pain far greater than what he was feeling now.  Angelus was not to be ignored. But he couldn’t afford to be rebellious.  Angelus believed heavily in punishment for those that spoke back to him.  Spike could still feel sometimes the iron fireplace poker being alternately thrust into and smacked against his back.  Preparation in the fireplace optional, though never for too long.  Too hot, and the victim went into shock, and felt no pain.

And yet he loved the vampire before him.  William who had been forced into a demon shell, and had made himself comfortable in it as Spike, had always placed a high regard on family.  He’d loved his human family dearly.  And then he was reliant on the vampire clan that had adopted him.  Some of them had wanted to stake him, or worse, throw him out.  Angelus had decreed he would remain.  Partly out of his own love of family, partly out of a desire to see what he could make of the boy.  Will the human had been weak, but proud, and wept and cried so prettily.  Good raw material.  Even at his most enraged, Angelus wanted Will alive, to learn.

Spike clung to unlife with a passion.  And Angelus fed him, rewarded him, punished him.  He was everything Will could ever have aspired to be as a demon, and Will was eager to please.  He tried to believe he deserved all the beatings.  He deluded himself that far for years, and after all he almost always did.  And then he felt abandoned when his protector left, carting a soul along.

When they came to Sunnydale, Will now called Spike had hoped to be reunited with his beloved pseudo-sire.  Drusilla he loved, but Angelus had remade him.  Now they were together, but it was not as the younger vampire remembered.  He’d been foolish enough to trust in Dru’s loyalty, even though he knew her sodding Daddy ranked higher in her heart.  As for Daddy.  At his worst, the old Angelus was precise, and cold.  He never attacked family without a reason.  The bastard creature before him was more than a little mad.  A careless, self-assured, petty egomaniac, who had followed Dru into insanity, even if he was touched in a different way.  A hundred years with a soul could do anything to the demon parts.

Maybe there hadn’t been unending love, but there had been some affection.  Angelus wanted to see his family succeed.  He grew attached to Will during their brief time together, and was set on making him a great beast some day, not unlike Penn.  The soul intervened, and once it was gone, a stranger had replaced his boy.  Someone who was cocky, and arrogant, and would not be dominated so easily.  And it wasn’t his doing.  That was unacceptable to the now psychotic father figure.

Spike supposed further that he was to be broken down overtime by this new monster, until he could be remade again.  The metal had cured wrong, so it was being softened to rework later.  That was why there was hunger, that was why Dru was flaunted, and that was what had brought him here now.

Angelus smiled again.  “I’ve fed already Boy, though I thank you for the invitation.  I’ve come to invite you to partake, as it were.  Come along now.”

Spike lay where he was.  He couldn’t let Angelus know he could walk, however slightly, so he had to take the jibe for what it was, and remain still.  He could smell blood on Angelus.  It seemed familiar, as though he should know the scent.

Angelus’s smile was becoming a constant feature.  “I said get up and come with me, Boy.”  Two strides had him at the head of the bed.  He grabbed the smaller man by his shirt front and a short quick slap graced the right side of his face.  The return stroke smashed against the left.  Angelus was back at his original position by the door in a moment, leaning against the frame.

Spike’s head reeled from the intensity of the blow.  He might well have a concussion.  That didn’t mean his mind was so clouded that he would disobey.  He edged himself to the side of the bed with his arms, his legs limp as any dead weight.  The chair was pulled close to the bed, locked so that he could climb in and out without its rolling.  He grasped the armrests, and heaved himself up.

Angelus moved toward him at an even pace, circling around as though to offer him a hand.  At the last moment he veered away, striking the right hand wheel lock with his steel tipped boot.  The wheel, freed, rotated from the pressure on the armrests by the would-be occupant.  The chair spun away from the bed, leaving Spike extended for an instant in the air.  The next moment he tumbled to the ground, cracking his skull against the stone floor. He lay immobile, on his face, on the ground, breathing hard.

“Now, now, Will.  Since when are you so clumsy?  I assumed you’d outgrow that fledgling awkwardness at some point.”  Angelus grabbed him roughly by the neck and the thigh, righted him to a standing position briefly, then dumped him into the chair.

It was just this kind of childish, unreasonable attack that reminded Spike again that this was not his beloved sire.  His head stopped spinning eventually, and he realized that Angelus was wheeling him to the other end of the mansion.  Looking down at his throbbing legs, he saw them sticking at odd angles from beneath him.  Not broken, just arranged very painfully.  But he couldn’t admit that.  He reached down and casually straightened them, fitting his feet into the footrests.

They reached one of the rooms claimed by Angelus and Dru.  It seemed to shift every week or so, depending on which bed they had yet to christen.  The door was slightly ajar.  Speeding up, Angelus forced the door fully open with Spike’s legs as the battering ram.  “Ooooh, good thing you’re numb down that way Will.  Else that might have hurt.”

It did hurt, like the sodding devil.  Fuck but it hurt.  His eyes rolled back and his hands gripped the armrests as discreetly as possible.  When he opened his eyes a moment later, he was at an angle, partially facing a small couch at the foot of the bed.  Angelus was sitting on the bed, behind and to the right, but in full view.  Still smiling, the fucker.

Now he knew why the blood smelled familiar.  There she was on the couch.  His slayer.  The girl he was going to battle when he regained his mobility, and have a chance to win Dru back.  Buffy.  Dead.

Damned if he didn’t pity her.  Pity them both.  Because now Angelus would have free reign in Sunnydale, and no one could save them from their plight by killing him.  Her friends would try, but Angelus was too experienced to be killed by novices, how ever well meaning.  The Watcher had a chance, if he bided his time.  He wasn’t a fool.

She looked so innocent.  The poor girl was now the childe of the monster that had once been his grandsire.  He had suffered as a fledgling, but the goal had been to teach him.  Make him a strong member of the family or break him in the process.  The breaking was all that was in store for this girl.

The worst part was that he knew, as did Angelus, that she would have her soul along for the ride.  She was not the first slayer to be turned.  She couldn’t fight very hard against her sire, not while she was so young.  The things he must have planned would be demeaning on all levels, physical, emotional, and spiritual.

Maybe Spike could kill her before it went too far.  No one deserved this.  Least of all his worthy opponent.

Angelus watched Spike watching the small form.  “Pretty thing isn’t she?  Too bad you never got to taste her while she was alive.  Really something.  And now she’s your elder in the blood line.  Maybe you can ask her for a taste sometime, once she’s a full member of the family.  Maybe she’ll let you lick her wrist.  Did you ever wonder Spike, while you were fighting her, about what she’d be like in bed?”  Spike cast him an unreadable glance.  “She is good you know.  Hot.  Soft.  Tight.”  He reached down and unzipped his pants, pulling out his mounting erection.  He stroked it in time with his words.  “She cried out when I broke her hymen.  I could smell the blood from the tear.  Intoxicating.

“And then tonight, I came up behind her and she didn’t even sense me.  Maybe she’s been thinking so much about me she couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.  What do you think about that, Boy?”

Spike sighed.  “Maybe.”  He wasn’t shocked that his grandsire would wank off in front of him.  Horny bastard did what pleased him, and he liked to be watched.  It wasn’t anything Spike hadn’t seen before, but it got to him now.  Maybe because, as Angelus knew, he was too injured to have an erection himself.  This was another trick to remind him of just how worthless he was at the moment.  He couldn’t even pleasure himself.

It angered him not so much that the wanker was jerking off over the slayer’s death but over what he was going to do when she woke.  Slayer blood’s aphrodisiacal qualities were irresistible after all.  But Spike had never enjoyed rape.  He’d seen it done by Angelus in the old days, and it disgusted him.

Maybe it was the Victorian manners lingering in him that protested.  Maybe it was his memory of his broken cousin Charlotte after ‘that thing happened’.  She’d killed herself later.  Spike suspected though that it was more to do with stealing innocence.  He felt no shame in killing.  He was a vampire, that’s what he did.  But intimate as biting was, he knew that the humans found rape to be the greater violation.

He’d been an innocent little poet when Dru found him.  His innocence was destroyed entirely in two days with the family.  Sometimes, not that he would ever admit it, he missed the moments when he didn’t know what monsters were.  When he was safe with his mother, reading.   When he didn’t know what fate held for him.  That he would be a monster.  Pathetic virgin that he had been at 28, he’d at least been loved by one person.

Angelus sped up his strokes.  He felt the tension building.   “Boy, come here.”  Spike wheeled awkwardly closer, facing his panting sire.  Angelus held his wrist out. 

Spike slid into game face, fully aware of what was required of him.  Blood play in sex was natural to vampires, and Angelus liked pain.  His own blood was not worth the tasting.  He took the wrist and bit hard.  Angelus spasmed.  He came with the first pull of blood.  Spike continued to pull hard, stealing as much of the slayer residue as he could.  As Angelus returned to awareness, he took a final draught, then backed away as quickly as he could in the wheel chair. 

Angelus gave him a lascivious smile.  He stood and walked behind Spike.  He leaned down and licked the burned side of the younger vampire’s face, making sure to cause more than a little pain to the unhealed skin.  He spoke into his ear.  “Just remember Will that I’m the better man here.  I’ve won the slayer.  I’ll break her, and be better known for it, while you languish at my mercy.  Never forget that that is where you are.  No better than a minion.  Beneath me and mine.”  He wiped his sticky hands on Spike’s shirt.  “Go.”

Spike left.  Poor Buffy.  God help her.  She was still one of His, after all.
****
Please Review!*****Chapter 2*****

Rupert Giles sat in his apartment, immobile.  A tall scotch at his right glinted in the sunlight that streamed unwelcome through the blinds.  Upon his return, he had not bothered with lights.  And now, at dawn, he didn’t need them.

He’d awoken at one o’clock this morning to a frantic pounding on his front door.  Xander, Willow, and Cordelia were on the other side.  They had gone to the cemetery to help Buffy patrol.  She had the flu, apparently, and had decided to go patrolling anyways.  They’d found blood in the cemetery, and no ashes nearby.  Nor had there been a body.  After the incident with Jenny, she’d felt like she needed to be out there every night, to protect the world from Angelus.  And now she was gone.

“Bloody hell, man, just say it,” he murmured to himself.  “The bastard killed Jenny, and now he’s killed your daughter.”

There was no doubt that she was dead.  He’d gone to the cemetery with the children.  Run there, crossbow in hand.  He’d even brought his gun along, for good measure, not that they had known.  He’d seen the blood.   He’d searched with a flashlight, and found a few drops more, several yards away, and a few more farther on after that.  The path pointed straight toward the mansion.

He’d sent the children home without telling them his suspicions.  They must have guessed the truth by now, but hearing it from him would only scare them further.  He’d have to tell them soon, though.  He would need their help when he went to Joyce Summers.  He’d have to tell them about the phone call he had just made.

Travers had been sympathetic.  That was a first.  The man was arrogant and irritating.  He was not kind.  Giles would have felt better if his superior had been clipped and rude.  The man had simply said to his question ‘Yes Rupert.  Another has been called, in addition to Kendra.  She’s a young girl in Boston.’  Travers had gone on about how devoted Buffy had been, how intelligent, tactfully failing to mention the incident with Angel that transformed him into Angelus.

Giles had rung off as quickly as he could.  He couldn’t bare the sympathy.  What he wanted now was vengeance.

Buffy had to be considered, however.  She was dead, but that didn’t mean she had ceased to exist.  There were two reasons that Angelus would have taken her body.  Either he wanted time to mutilate it artistically, for display to the girl’s mother and friends, or he had turned her.  Turning her would be the grosser insult, so that had his money.  Torture awaited her, no doubt.  He wondered if Angelus knew that the Powers allowed Slayers to keep their souls.  Probably.  That would make it worse.

No turned slayer had ever lived for long.  They were unruly, and less fun to their masters than anticipated.  They were usually staked the first night.  Those that were not stood in the sun the next morning, unable to exist as creatures of the night. 

Angelus would not allow either option.  He would break her.  Twist her.

His last attack on Angelus had been ill-planned.  The future one would require great cunning.  He was determined that it would be he that ended the wanker’s existence, once and for all.  No wishes to a demon were required, Giles being quite thorough on his own.

He hadn’t prayed since Jenny’s death, but now he begged the Powers to defend Buffy among the lions.  He prayed that her suffering would end quickly, even if it was at his own hand.

Ripper glanced at the clock on the wall.  Right now, Joyce Summers was waking.  Did she go in every morning to check on her daughter?  Did she simply call to make sure that the alarm had gone off?  Either way, she would soon be standing in a teenager’s room, staring at an open window and an unused bed.

He stood, straightened his tie, and pulled on a jacket.  He called Willow; Xander and Cordelia had stayed with her, rather than going out alone.  A wise precaution.  He asked them to meet him at the Summers’ home.

Across the line, he could hear Willow’s intake of breath.  “Giles.  Is she…dead?”

“A new slayer has been called.”

“Do y-you think she’s been turned?”  It was a sob, not a question.

No use lying.  As gently as he could, he replied, “Yes, Willow, I believe she has.”

Giles detected whispers on the other end of the line.  When he next heard a voice, it was not Willow, but Xander.  The boy could be quite a prat when the occasion came, but right now he was calm.  Quiet.  Resolved in a way that struck fellowship in Ripper.  “Giles, we’ll be there as soon as we can.  After we get this done with Buffy’s mom, I think you and I need to talk battle plans.”

“I agree.  I’ll see you shortly.”
_____________

At the Summers’ home five hours later, Giles was not surprised to have another ally.  It had been difficult initially, to convince her that he was a watcher, and that Buffy had been a slayer.  Not to mention that her daughter was now dead.

She had raged at him for lying to her, for involving her daughter in some kind of cult.  When Xander and Willow had tearily defended him, Joyce had asked him point blank if he was a pedophile that had trapped these children.  She had been moments away from calling the police when Willow stopped her.  The best proof the girl could offer that these things were real was a small bit of magic.  Nothing major, just the simplest levitation of the phone Joyce had been reaching for.

Joyce had paused, shocked by the maneuver.  She’d begun to listen as the young woman carefully outlined some details from the past year.  The attack at the school was used to prove evidence of vampires.  Joyce had gotten a good look at Spike when she hit him with the ax, there was no denying that he wasn’t normal.  That he had survived being hit, and remained conscious, were certainly telling.  Demon eggs and the school basement.  The fact that Buffy’s tutor had never been seen in daylight.  After that, the distraught woman began to ask the right questions.

Discussing Angelus proved awkward for all.  Buffy had been in love with him.  Buffy had slept with him.  He had lost his soul.  He had killed Jenny.  He had killed Willow’s fish.  He had killed Buffy.

Joyce threw them out of the house after two hours.  She was angry.  Over-whelmed.  Denial had arisen again.  Giles gave her his phone number, which she promptly destroyed and threw in his face.

He had sent Willow, Xander, and Cordelia home to his house.  The school wouldn’t miss them, not with the epidemic going currently.  He gave them express instructions not to leave singly after dark.  He had performed the disinvite spell himself after Angelus had left Jenny’s body.  Stupid of him not to have done it sooner, but then who knew what kind of evil he would have been done with her remains otherwise.

He did not leave.  Joyce was an active woman.  She would try to do something shortly.  Perhaps go to the police after all, perhaps go to the cemetery, perhaps go to the mansion if they had convinced her of the death.  No one had mentioned turning yet.  Maybe she would never have to know what her daughter was now.  What torments would be perpetrated on her.

It occurred to him that Buffy might survive long enough to make contact.  She was a resourceful girl.  He would have to mention it to Joyce after all.

Hours after he took up residence on the porch, Joyce stormed out the front door.  She didn’t seem surprised to see him.  She marched toward him deliberately, and sat beside him on the porch swing.  “I just did something that I swore I would never do.  I read my daughter’s diary.  Everything, absolutely everything you told me is in there.

“I dug out the older volumes from the bottom of her closet.  I found several bottles marked holy water and two boxes of crossbow bolts in there too.  The book from when she was fifteen says that she met a man outside her school that told her she was a Chosen One.  He took her to kill a vampire for the first time.”  Giles didn’t interrupt, but he noticed that Joyce was beginning to believe.  Her whole bearing bespoke it, as did her firm voice.

“I have seen my daughter come home late.  I have washed stains out of her clothes that looked remarkably like blood.  I have seen her with scratches.  I have seen school principles that told me she was a horrible student, always in fights, often tired in class.”  Joyce paused.  It was easier than she expected, speaking like this to a man that was almost a stranger to her.  He had loved Buffy, almost as much as she had.  However much she wanted to deny it, he was telling her the truth.  “Am I blind?  Why did I never ask her what was going on?  She wrote about how she hated lying to me.  About how hard it was to be punished when she was performing her sacred duty.”

Giles smiled humorlessly.  “Buffy was a resourceful young woman.  She was adept at…stretching the truth, even in front of me.  Parents tend to believe their children.  And since Buffy gave you no indication that anything was wrong, it would have been simple to dismiss these things as just teenage angst run amuck.  Who believes in vampires, after all?  Other than middle aged librarians.  She didn’t tell you because I’m sure she wanted to spare you the pain it would cause you to know that she risked her life every night.”

Joyce shook her head violently.  Her self-loathing was intense as she spoke.  “No.  She did tell me.  And her father.  We thought she was going crazy.  We took her to an institution.  We had her kept there under observation for a few weeks, until she stopped telling the truth.  She lied, said it was all a figment of her imagination, and we took her home.  There was no reason for her to tell me the truth ever again.

“And now my baby is gone.”  She had begun to cry.  She accepted the handkerchief offered her by the man beside her.  The next part was going to be the most difficult.  “And this monster killed your friend, Ms. Calendar?  Then left her for you to find?”

Giles nodded.  He wasn’t sure what to say just now.  Buffy had never told him that she had been in an asylum.  He reflected that that was why potentials were found early, whenever possible, and taken to be with watchers who would train and understand them.  Parents were unequipped to handle this sort of thing.

“What does that mean I have to look forward to?  Is he going to leave her body in my house?  Or did he make her like him?”

Giles looked up sharply.  He had not anticipated that she would realize what Angelus was capable of.

“Don’t look so stunned.  I lived in L.A., I know what murders do.  Worse, I used to read Anne Rice novels when Buffy was a baby.  I’m sure you’ll tell me they’re horrible sources of information, but it’s true isn’t it?  Angelus could have turned her into a vampire.”  The watcher looked away from her.  “Don’t try to spare me now, Rupert.”

The familiarity of the address seemed only natural now, to both of them.  They were going to come to know each other better, it might as well begin now.  “He cannot enter your home unless invited.  Willow, our aspiring witch, removed his first invitation.  As to Buffy’s status, I think that yes, even though Anne Rice is horribly flawed, Angelus has chosen to make her his childe.  I have books that you can read that will give you a better idea of what that means.”

Joyce nodded.  “I want to know everything.  I have two more questions.  Will my daughter become a killer like him?”

Giles shook his head.  “He may try to make her one.  But slayers keep their souls when they are turned, so he won’t succeed.  He will try everything to torment her, you know.”

Joyce nodded again.  She had expected that.  “Final question.  What comes next?”

“Where do we go from here, you mean?”

“No, I mean how do we make this bastard vampire pay for what he’s done to my daughter?”

Ripper smiled menacingly.  “I’ve been contemplating that.  Xander and Willow will help, I’m sure, but I will need another adult.  May I assume that you are more than willing to assist?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suggest we first call the police, and report a missing person.  They will suspect you if you do not do so.  They will want to come over and go through her things, so I recommend that right now, we go to her room and remove all evidence of her having been a slayer.  We can store it elsewhere in your house, possibly in your room.  After they finish, we will go to my apartment, and speak with Xander, Willow, and Cordelia.  Our planning will begin then.”

“Very well.  Let’s begin.”  They stood, and reentered the house.
_____________

Angelus was a believer in certain traditions.  Notably those that caused pain.  That was why he had ordered his minions to dig a grave in the gardens behind the house the night he returned with his prize.  He had further ordered them to find a casket.  Once both tasks were accomplished, he and Dru laid the girl in her coffin, and nailed it shut.  The minions buried it.

He then took the dark princess inside and screwed her until she bled.
______________

Buffy awoke slowly.  It was dark, and her head was throbbing.  She reached to her temple to rub it, in hopes of easing the ache.  Her hand was blocked by a wall.  Impulsively she reached out, and found herself enclosed on all sides.  She thrashed frantically.  Angelus had buried her alive.

Coherent thought fled her mind as she attacked the top of her wooden prison.  Slayer strength melded with vampiric fury and she smashed a fist up through the top of the casket.  Earth fell in on top of her and she choked on the dust, not stopping to realize that she no longer needed to breathe.  Kicks and punches widened the rift, and the dirt sank down over her.  She shot upward, swimming to the surface in the fresh-tilled ground.

She pulled herself out and lay to the side of her unmarked grave gasping.  She heard something behind her. Turning she saw Angelus.  She felt a wave of something unknown, all at once devotion, and fear, and desire, well up inside her.  She leaped up, disgusted by the feeling, hatred penetrating through her foggy mind.  She tried to take a fighting stance.

“Bow, childe.”

She didn’t want to.  She was compelled.  Angelus didn’t have thrall.  What was happening?  She was spared further thought when a low landed on the back of her head.
_______________

When next she woke Buffy was inside.  She was laying on something soft.  She remembered being in the graveyard.  She remembered Angelus.

Her hand flew to her neck.  Where the Master had once bitten her, there was now another, more recent bite.  She trembled at the implication.  But it was the hunger that confirmed her fears.

Giles had said that fledglings needed to feed as soon as they rose, because of the initial draining.  And heaven help her, she wanted blood.  She needed it.  Craved it.  She’d die if she didn’t get some soon.  Her conscious mind warred with demon instincts that were trying to take hold.

Shouldn’t she be unable to control herself?  Shouldn’t she be rushing off to kill the innocent?  She was just hungry.

She opened her eyes for the first time.  He was there.  Not looking at her.  He was by a dresser, closing a drawer full of shirts.  She didn’t move, hoping that perhaps she could escape when he left.  She was scared to death. ‘Oh, bad pun Buffy.’ 

“Naughty little sister.  Tries to make Daddy think she isn’t here yet.”

Drusilla.  On the bed to her side.  She hadn’t even sensed her.  What was wrong with her?  ‘Other than suddenly being a vampire, Buffy?’  She was still in shock over that.  If she hadn’t been, she’d be thinking about her mom, and her friends, and Giles.  She couldn’t do that yet.  Not until she got out of here.  Which was going to be hard with two Masters in the room.

Now that she realized there were two of them, her senses started making more, well, sense.  As a vampire, she smelled them and their strength.  As a slayer she almost always knew when a vampire was around, especially a powerful vampire.  Her slayer-spidey sense felt overloaded right now.  That was probably why she hadn’t immediately noticed Dru.  She supposed that fact that she was now a demon was part of it…

She reached up to touch her face.  She found ridges and fangs.  Oh, God, she was a demon.  She’d been a Chosen One, standing against the darkness all those years and now she was part of it.  She was part of Angel’s…no…Angelus’s family.  What would Giles say?  Maybe he’d try to kill her…

Buffy began to cry.  She was a monster.

A hard slap landed on the side of her face.  Angelus was standing over her.  “Did I tell you that you could cry?”

Buffy glared at him angrily, and growled without realizing what she was doing.

She was yanked up by the jean jacket she still wore from the night of her death.  Angelus slapped her roughly, alternating sides of her face until the cool skin burned from his blows.  He dropped her roughly to the ground, then pulled her into a standing position by her hair.  Several pieces came loose in his hands.

“You will never again show such disrespect to your Sire.  If you do, I will break your jaw so that you cannot utter such sounds.  Remember this girl: you are my childe.  All that you are belongs to me.  I have the rights of life, death, and pain over you.”  He dropped her back down.  She missed the sofa and landed on the floor.

Secretly, Angelus was delighted.  He had feared for a few moments that she would be too overcome to react.  In reality, she had just the fight he was looking for.  Oh yes, this next would be fun.  He strode over to the bed, and sat down at the foot.  “Now Buffy, let us have a conversation.  What are you?”
******
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*****Chapter 3*****

Buffy sat on the floor where she had been dropped.  She wanted to glare back at him, but had a feeling that she would just get slapped again, and that wasn’t helping her escape.  More specifically, the throbbing headache she now had was not going to help her escape.  She should have fought him immediately, not let him get the advantage.  ‘Stupid Buffy, he’s your sire, he will always have the advantage.’

That frightened her.  She thought back to lying beside her grave.  He had commanded her to bow and she couldn’t refuse.  Giles had told her that fledglings had no control when their sire decided to give a sire order.  Sickening as it was, she would have to be obedient to Angelus, at least enough so that he didn’t put her completely in thrall.

He was looking at her expectantly.  Oh, right he asked you what you were.  Tears started to come forward again, but she hadn’t been given permission, and damn did it make her furious that the bastard would hit her for something as simple as crying.  Yesterday, she would have said she was a slayer.  Now, though, “I’m a vampire.”  Her voice cracked as she said it.

Angelus slapped her again, though not as hard.  She looked at him in confusion, and another tear fell accidentally down her face.  “No crying!” He yelled.  She froze, except to wipe away the tear that had emerged on its own.  Angelus leaned forward off the foot of the bed as though he meant to whisper something to her.  He put a hand on her shoulder, and pulled her gently closer.  His mouth over her ear he said in a low voice, “What are you?”

What the fuck was wrong with him?  She’d answered!  The demon part of her told her to grovel.  To submit.  It was her sire’s right to hit her.  The slayer part overpowered it.  She thrashed to free herself from his grip, but he grabbed her by her hair again and wrenched her head back.  She kicked out but missed, he kicked her leg below the knee and hit.  Hard.  She felt her lower leg break.  She screamed in pain.  He slapped her again.

“I did not tell you to scream.  Now.  What are you?”  He put a hand on her injured shin.

So this is what the books mean when they say he’s a sadist.  Buffy had seen Silence of the Lambs.  She had seen The Shining.  She’d seen all manner of sacrifices out on patrol.  But this was nothing she had ever been prepared for.  This thing that looked like the Angel she knew and loved was tormenting her for his own enjoyment.

The pain made her mind hazy, and she felt her will to resist slip.  She was starving, she was hurt, and the parts of her that were now vampire demanded that she appease her sire.  She let the demon take over.  And suddenly she knew the answer to the question.  The answer that would keep her from angering her sire further.  “I’m yours.”

He smiled at her cruelly.  And she felt her demon take reassurance from the smile.  It was proud to have made its sire happy.  It argued that the aches meant nothing, the sire must be considered.  The slayer in her was sickened, and fought back to the surface.  The human part, the Buffy part, just wanted it to end.  ‘You’re trying to escape not make him happy.  You’ve done enough of that.’

But at least, she argued with herself, he’s not hitting me now.

Angelus enjoyed that first round immensely.  He’d gotten her to give in to the demon to a small degree.  Now, time for encouragement.  He knew all about psychology.  Positive and negative reinforcement were something he’d invented, not Pavlov and Freud.  He was exercising his talents before those men were born, hence Penn, Spike, and Dru.  Behold the genius of Angelus.  “Much better Buffy.  Now climb up on the sofa and let me look at your leg.”  He spoke with a tenderness that he knew she remembered form his soul bearing days.

Buffy was too confused to argue.  Her demon side was singing.  She pulled herself up off the floor and sat gingerly on the sofa.  Her ass was bruised from being repeatedly dropped on the stone floor.  She used her arms to cushion herself as she sat back fully on the warn pink fabric.  She watched as Angelus reached down and lifted her leg gently by the foot.

Angelus sighed, as though pained.  He was a damn fine actor if he said so himself.  “Oh, Buffy, I’m afraid I’m going to have to set this.  It’ll hurt, brace yourself.”  He pulled hard.  It would have been kinder if he hadn’t warned her, so that her muscles were slack, but Buffy wouldn’t know that.  He heard the bone realign, and watched her face’s reaction.  She wanted to scream, or at least shed a few tears, he could tell, but she had learned her lesson.  She wouldn’t do it without asking.  And she was still too proud to ask.

That fact alone would make the rest of this night highly interesting.

It was only about four hours until the sun rose.  Buffy had risen around midnight, and had been unconscious for a good hour.  Angelus was happy she had not risen immediately after dark, that way he and Dru got away to feed.  They were both quite full, which meant they could enjoy the coming spectacle to its fullest.  He examined the leg, content that he had realigned it successfully.  The last thing he wanted was a lame fledge.  Even if he was only keeping her a week.

That was the deadline he’d set for himself.  Six days to break her and rest on the seventh.  It would break his record on Emilia, that pretty little girl he’d turned before Dru.  She had taken three, and had been catatonic by the end.  He didn’t want Buffy catatonic.  He wanted her able to move and speak.  Hell, how could she kill herself if she was out of it?  This was the first night.  Five more, and he had such a treat planned for the sixth night.  He already had minions working on the task, gathering the appropriate victims.

Because the prey had to be in the right mood also.  He detested it when his food wasn’t reactive.  He wanted at least one girl Buffy’s age, and one a bit younger.  A certified virgin.

He could worry about that later.  Right now Buffy was the challenge.  Her demon had just taught her the value of submission.  That must anger the slayer in her.  Now he wanted to disgust the human, and what better way to do that than to awaken her to demon sexuality.

“Here Buffy.”  He slit his wrist shallowly.  “Why did you make me hurt you?”

She didn’t register the words.  Well, she heard and resented them, but she was otherwise occupied.  Buffy’s nose went into overload.  Sire’s blood, offered to her.  Her hunger tripled, painfully intense, her stomach constricted.  She didn’t even care that it was Angelus.  She was so hungry.  She reached out for the arm extended toward her, half expecting to have the food taken away at the instant she reached for it.  She was grateful when it remained in place.  She latched her mouth on, careful not to use her fangs.  She knew instinctively that that using them would revoke the offer.

It was the most heavenly thing she had ever tasted.  She saw light behind her eyes at the intensity of the sensation.  She pulled mouthfuls of blood out as fast as she could, but her inexperience and the deliberate shallowness of the cut prevented her from getting near enough to satisfy her hunger before the skin healed.  Damn his reaction, she needed more to heal.  She prepared to latch on with her teeth.

“Release.”

Sire command.  She dropped the arm and felt herself wither, a little more of her independence gone.  If anything, she was hungrier.  Her leg throbbed less though, and that was a plus.  And again, not being smacked around.  She felt a little odd though, almost…aroused.  ‘Oh how sick’.  She was wet over what had just happened.  Ewww.  She could smell herself.  And if she could that meant Angelus could too.  She was relieved when he didn’t comment.  She would have…hell she couldn’t die form embarrassment.

Angelus went over to Dru, who had been watching happily.  She applauded him.  “Oh, wonderful Daddy.  Can Princess taste you too?”

He knew there was a reason he hadn’t staked her for her babbling when he first turned her.  She played her part so well.  He had intended to show Buffy what was necessary if she wanted more, but he hadn’t anticipated his sample playing along perfectly.  “Certainly Dru.  But you know what that means.”

Dru nodded, smiled, and twirled, happy that Daddy liked Princess as well as Sister.  Miss Edith said Sister would be fun to play with.  But she wanted Daddy first.  Miss Edith could be right later.  She said Sister tasted sweet, like canaries.  Her Daddy was a peach.  She knew what to do now.  She untied her corset strings, and pulled herself free of the dress.

Buffy could not believe what was happening in front of her.  Angelus acted like she wasn’t even in the room.  He hadn’t said another thing to her.  He just went and sat on the bed, watching Dru.  And Dru?  She was fucking stripping in front of her.  And she didn’t wear underwear.

Dru stood naked and ran her hands over her in a way she knew Daddy liked.  She started with arms crossed, hands on shoulders, resting like birdies and head thrown back.  Then she moved down slowly to her breasts and rubbed them, then down along her ribs and onto her hips.  At her hips she uncrossed her arms and stroked down across her belly, and brushed her curls.  She then began to finger herself.

Buffy tried to stay calm.  Throwing up was just not an option right now.  She needed to get out of here, and with a broken, if healing, leg her only chance would be if they were distracted.  Really distracted.  And judging by the way Angelus was growling her opportunity would be here before much longer.

Angelus ignored his new childe.  She was getting quite the show from Dru, as was he.  No complaints, either, except that he was hard and didn’t feel like bringing himself off.  He ordered her to see to him, and she did just that.  In an instant she was on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and tracing her hands over his chest.  She licked his nipples, and bit around them with her blunt teeth.

Buffy could smell their arousal, and was sickened when she felt herself go wet again.  She had never watched porn, even if she had read a few dirty books.  It was more than her near virgin eyes could ignore.  She couldn’t help herself, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel dirty.  And horny.  She knew how to bring herself off.  She’d done it a couple times before she lost her virginity.  But she couldn’t do it now.  It would be wrong and gross and why had she even thought about it?

Involved as he was in Dru’s efforts, Angelus could smell Buffy’s scent growing stronger, and muskier.  He called out to her, and looked over Dru’s head to where she sat.  “I do not give you permission to touch yourself, childe.”

Buffy would have blushed if the blood could move to her cheeks.  But without a pulse, it could not.  Did being her sire mean he could read her mind?  Or did this just mean that he could read her that well?  He probably just figured it out by her smell.

Speaking of smells.  They were both naked in front of her now.  And doing it.  The smell was nauseating.  And getting worse by the minute.  She wished the room was darker, so she wouldn’t have to see them.  But she could see them, all too well with her enhanced vampire senses.  Every drop of sweat and every movement she caught.  They didn’t even go under the covers.

She eyed the door.  Her moment was coming.  ‘Even worse pun.  Stop it.  It’s not helping’.  She saw Dru tense, and heard Angelus roar.  She leaped up and began to run, heedless of the broken leg.  She made it to the door and yanked it open.  She darted into the hallway and was halfway down it when he caught her from behind.

Angelus cursed himself and Dru’s seduction for him being so distracted.  He hadn’t considered that the girl would try to escape as injured as she was.  That was the point of breaking her leg.  Well, that just meant his glory would be that much more when he crushed her.

When he grabbed her from behind, she fought him.  She kicked and screamed fit to raise hell.  He lifted her off the ground entirely and bashed her head against the wall.  He hear the skull fracture, and she went still for a moment.  Not out completely, she moaned and tried to move, but was too weak.  He dragged her back into the room, and tossed her on the sofa.  He didn’t bother to tell her not to cry, but she didn’t do it anyway.  The demon in her was in control, and the slayer must have been learning that that helped to chase the pain away.
__________

Chris had been scared to death when he saw the turned slayer come out of the new Master’s room and run toward him down the hall.  He had been even more frightened when Angelus came after her, naked and in game face.  He watched the struggle and saw them retreat.

It took him a moment to realize that they hadn’t noticed him.  He hadn’t been caught on his way to his true Master’s room with an offering of blood.  It would be simpler if the four of them could feed Master Spike from their own necks, but Angelus would have discovered it, smelled the wounds.  That meant the effort to bring in pig’s blood, ridiculous in its slowness at healing him.

But at least they had that option.  He proceeded to the Master’s room, knocked, and was allowed to enter.

He looked so drawn and thin, lying there.  His shirt hung loose on him and the jeans rode low on his hips, what weight there had been to keep them in place now shed.  Still, his mind was active, and he professed to be walking better.  None of them were allowed to witness it, after all it was a very private thing to heal.  Injury this severe was among the greatest of vampire taboos.  Those who had lived beyond death dreaded reminders of the most permanent form. 

That, he suspected was why many of the other minions had not stayed with the Master.  They wanted an uninjured leader.  Foolish rats.  They could not see Master Spike was a superior person to Angelus.  He was a vampire, not a torturer like Angelus.  Chris felt undue torment to be against the nature of vampires.  They killed to hunt, not for pleasure.  He knew his philosophy was influenced by his former status as a doctor, but he didn’t mind being different.  There were at least four others like him, including the man on the bed.

Alexa, Jacob, and Ryan were already there.  They kept the Master company when they had finished hunting to keep his mind from the pain in his limbs.  He had never complained, and hid it well, but they knew he suffered.  Chris was proud to have a story to share with the blood.
   
Spike would have loved to have told the little band he led just how much he appreciated their efforts on his behalf.  It was unseemly, though, for a Master to share such confidences with his minions.  It meant a loss of face, and authority.  Even with as intelligent a group as he possessed, there were proper and improper ways to behave.  He was glad they knew without being told.

He pushed himself upright in bed, and Alexa positioned his pillows behind him to keep him upright.  He took the carton of blood offered him by Chris, who inserted a flexible straw in the top.  Altogether Spike was pretty content.  He’d walked around his room a few times at different intervals without feeling weak.  The taste of slayer’s blood had accelerated the work done by the human blood.

He sipped his blood, eying the deliverer.  He smiled at the fidgeting minion.  “What’s on your mind Chris.  You look like you’ve got a tasty tale to tell.  Spill.”

Chris grinned.  “Well Master, as I was coming to your room…”

The room was silent after Chris finished his story.  Spike sat in thought as he considered what Chris had said.  “Good for the Slayer.  She may survive him yet.”

“Perhaps Master, she would make a better addition to our small family than to his.”  Alexa never hesitated to speak her mind.  He reminded her of the slayer that way. He saw that the other three nodded.  “If it please you Master.”

“It’s too soon to consider that.  We are still here, in his house.”  Spike smiled, almost to himself.  “But it would please me.”  Fight him Buffy.  Don’t let him win.  You’re better than that.
____________

Buffy wandered in and out of consciousness for a while.  When she finally did wake, she wished sincerely that she hadn’t.

The pain was unbearable.  She couldn’t go on this way.  Her head was split.  Her leg ached.  She’d heard Angelus reset it after she put her weight on the bones to escape.  Her mind hurt, from coming to grips with this new situation.

The seventeen year old in her had given up trying long ago.  The slayer wanted rest before she made another attempt to escape.  The demon was still hungry.

It was the winning part right now.  It hurt less with the demon in command.  And the demon had a plan to make the body heal.  Buffy felt like she was having a conversation with herself.  ‘I’m not a whore.’

‘He gave the blood to Dru when she asked.  And it’s nothing you haven’t done with him before.’

‘That was before.  When he loved me.’

‘Do you really think you’ll escape if you don’t heal, at least a little?’

Silence.

‘It just needs to be for tonight.’

Silence again.  She couldn’t help it.  The demon demanded it.  And the rest couldn’t resist any longer.  “Sire.”

Angelus looked at her lazily from the bed.  He felt reasonably sated after the last few hours with Dru.  “Yes, Childe?”

“I’m hungry Sire.”

“I’m angry with you for trying to escape.”

“Yes Sire.  I’m sorry.  May I please have something to eat?”

Angelus sighed dramatically.  “You understand this requires a fair exchange?”

Buffy swallowed, willing herself not to whimper.  “Yes, Sire.”

He got out of bed and came over to her.  “You will not fight me.”

“No sire.”

Buffy ended up crying anyway.
*****
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*****Ch 4*****

She woke slowly.  Slowly was of the good.  It kept everything from rushing back and overwhelming her.  She was alone in the room.  She could tell that.

Buffy wasn’t sure how long she slept after he finally let her be.  He’d taken her at least twice, but her head had still been spinning.  He’d fed her just before leaving the small sofa, and getting back into the big bed with Drusilla.  It wasn’t much, but it was enough.  It healed her head, she could see clearly.  Her leg still ached, but somehow she knew that it would bear weight if it had to.

And then her awareness of other things crept to the fore of her mind.  Like how she felt sticky down there.  Like how he’d been much gentler than she ever expected.  He wasn’t like that with Dru.  Her demon rejoiced at his kindness.  It said that her Master favored her.  That she would get more blood tonight, after she did the same things as last time.  The Slayer reared in revolt.  That was the only time.  Tonight she would escape.  That was the only reason she’d given in.  That she’d actually asked…

‘Oh God.  I am a whore.’  She began to cry but stopped instantly, strangling the sobs before they could begin in earnest.  ‘Look how well you’re already trained.  Just thinking about him and you do his will.’

But he was her Sire.  She should be doing what he wanted.  No.  That was wrong.  That was the demon talking.  Even if she was a vampire, Buffy wasn’t going to give in to it.  She’d survived the night without killing anything.  She could be like Angel used to be.  Drink blood from the butcher.  Maybe they’d give her a discount for being a repeat customer.  She’d be going to them forever after all.

Once her mom was dead.  Once Giles was dead.  Once Willow and Xander were dead.  She couldn’t let them see her like this.  They thought she was dead by now.  Better that way.  What could she say?  I escaped by sleeping with him again?  Aren’t you proud about how the hero stood up to the villain by laying down for him?

She remembered how he lumbered over.  Unimpressed, like she was an afterthought.  Well, like he said she probably wasn’t worth a second go.  She was just available for itch scratching when Drusilla wasn’t.  He was probably gentle because she wasn’t worth playing with.  He knew she was a vampire now.  She could take anything.  She’d been a slayer, didn’t that just make her stronger?  Why wasn’t she worth it?

It didn’t matter.  She should just stop thinking about irrelevant shit.  She’d probably be enough for normal guys in the future when she got away.  Which was the point.  She was supposed to be getting away.  That was going to be a problem now.  Her senses were completely awake at last, and they alerted her to something she had yet to realize.

She was in chains.

And it was nighttime.  She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did know that while she slept the sun and come and gone.   It had to be almost midnight again.  Her plan to escape tonight was rapidly looking less likely.  She examined the chains holding her.  They clasped her wrists together, and ran down to her ankles, which were also bound to each other.  The chain then ran off the edge of the sofa to the ground.

She angled herself upright with difficulty.  The give in the chain was nonexistent.  She pulled at her wrists, pulled at her ankles, but to no effect.  Not so much as a creak in protest.  They were obviously chosen for strength.  She inched toward the foot of the sofa, hard to do with only three feet of chain separating her feet and hands.  She could crawl, and that was it.  Like an inch worm.  If she fell off, she wouldn’t be able to get back up.

She saw the chain passing through two iron loops near the floor.  If there was a weak spot that was it.  She reached down past her feet and grabbed the chain there.  She began to pull with all strength she could manage.  She rolled backward onto the couch, desperate for some kind of leverage.  It didn’t come.  The chain stayed firm, and the loops were too strong, even for her.  Damn.
*****
Angelus wasn’t normally a fool.  He knew if she came to, she would run again.  The advantage to living in the Mansion was that its original owner, he, she, or it, had left plenty of bondage equipment lying around.  So, when he woke in the late afternoon, he’d gone to the basement rooms with a few minions and tested several chains for strength.

When he found one that he and three minions couldn’t snap, he was satisfied.  He went back to his room, and shackled her properly.  It meant adjusting his timetable slightly, he hadn’t planned for bondage on the second night.  An audience was supposed to come first, but it was a simple matter of switching the dates around.  Fans tomorrow, chains tonight.

It also meant that now, coming home from the hunt, he had to find a way to keep Dru entertained while he had his way with Buffy.  She’d get her chance with him in a couple of hours, but he didn’t want to overwhelm his new childe.  Yes he wanted her to continue to use her demon side, but he didn’t want to make it a defense mechanism.  It was possible for a vampire to shut down his or her personality completely, and let the demon take over.  Become an animal, strong and feral.

Her soul would make that more difficult, but she could develop a kind of multiple personality, between her conscious self and the demon.  The demon would protect her inner mind from him by acting as a shell.  To prevent that, he needed to make sure he didn’t give her reason to let the demon take over completely, while giving her no outlet on which to focus her attention accept what was being done to her.  It had worked with Spike, there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t work on her.

Which brought him to his plan for Dru.
*****
Spike kept his eyes straight ahead, willing himself not to look at the ground.  He placed his right heel in line with his left toe, put his weight down on the right foot, then lifted the left foot and repeated the process.  The tight rope walker act was least annoying when he pretended that it had never been done by men wearing leotards.  This was supposed to help him build coordination.  So far, it had built him a nice collection of bruises.

He stumbled when he heard the footsteps.  He was near the wall this time, so he didn’t hit the floor as he had the five times previous.  He just collided with the brick, then quickly forced himself back up to a standing position.  He walked quickly to the bed, pleased that he actually walked, and didn’t stagger, and climbed in as quietly as possible.  He fought against the urge to pant from the slight exertion.  Damn but his legs throbbed, as the muscles tried to rebuild themselves.

He expected Angelus.  If anything, he was even more disappointed that it was Dru.

He hadn’t seen her much, the last few weeks.  He’d become accustomed to the fact that he probably wasn’t going to be hers ever again, not as they had been.  Especially not now, with the Slayer captured.  She was the one person he’d hoped would defeat Angelus, kill him and get him away form his princess.  What was worse, Dru never stopped by of her own free will.  It was always because Daddy had sent her.  He loved to remind Spike at every opportunity who was in charge.

Dru danced into the room, where Sweet William lay on the bed, poor boy.  Naughty boy too, said Daddy, and Daddy must be right.  Silly boy thought the Little Sister was his, not Daddy’s.  Must learn to share.  That’s why Daddy sent her to make sure he knew they were sharing.  Sweet William must learn that.  “Spike, my darling boy, you look like the pictures from the pretty plague stories.”

‘Way to go Dru, kick me when I’m down.’  Irritating as that statement was, he knew she meant no malice from it.  She was just stating what she saw as fact.  He was damned pathetic looking, after all.  He sighed.  Might as well speed up this little confrontation.  “Hello Dru.  What’s going on?”

“Daddy wants me to stay with you until the night is three quarters full so he can play with Little Sister.”

And torment me at the same time.  Bloody bastard.  It was a bit after midnight, and he hadn’t been fed yet.  The minions wouldn’t be able to get in here until after Dru was gone, and his stomach was already protesting the lack of food.  So he would have to sit here, hungry, bored, listening to Dru prattle on, and thinking about the wretched Miss Buffy languishing under the treatment of Angelus.

He had stopped thinking of her as his adversary the night she died.  The creature was family now, and he always looked after his family.  He honestly wanted to protect her from Angelus.  He didn’t really question his motivations that deeply.  Maybe he just wanted what Angelus had, or what he perceived had been taken from him.  Maybe he wanted revenge over Dru.  Maybe he really cared about the new childe.  Didn’t matter.  He went with his impulses and instincts, and when they pointed that strongly at any one thing, he knew they were right.  They rarely failed him.

He realized Dru was prattling on while he had been thinking about poor, pretty Buffy.  He let his mind wander back to her and what she was saying.  “…Daddy says tomorrow we get to watch the fun.  Then he says I get to have all the fun the next night.  Then after that depends on Little Sister and how nice she plays and then after that we eat and then after that Little Sister is gone, candle out.”

Spike sat up a little straighter at that.  So Angelus wasn’t planning to keep Buffy long?  Not happy with just stealing her life he was going to wreck her brief new existence.  Dru seemed to know the entire plan.  Well, maybe he could put the next couple of hours to use after all.  Find out where his plan and Angelus’s overlapped.

What Alexa had said the previous night had gotten his attention.  Buffy as part of his group.  Soul or no soul, that could be fun.  Someone to trade jibes with and talk to.  An equal to keep him company, a job the minions just couldn’t fulfill.  A friend.  He’d thought about it as he fell asleep this morning after they left.  Then it had seemed a hopeless fantasy.  But if Angelus had in mind what he thought he did, then maybe there was a chance for them both.

“Dru darling, how is the candle going to go out?”
*****
Buffy heard Angelus coming down the hallway, and instantly closed her eyes.  She lay still, feigning sleep.  He opened, then closed the door.  She heard his boots as he walked toward her.  The slap caught her by surprise.  Her eyes shot open and her body jumped backward, as far as it could.  Which wasn’t far.

He was leaning over her, just close enough to make her uncomfortable.  He sat on the edge of the bed, still leaning into her space.  He sighed, as though frustrated.  “Still trying to deceive me.  Childe, have I not made myself clear?  Is it might fault that you continue to disobey?  You are mine now.  You need to start acting like it.”

What the fuck?  He sounded sincere.  Like Angel used to.  But this wasn’t Angel.  This was some trick to get her sympathy, to make her think something was wrong with her.  It wasn’t her fault she was a slayer caught in a vampire’s body.  No.  She was still a slayer.  The body was changed but she was what she was.

Angelus could tell that she understood his trick.  Her face was highly expressive.  That was alright.  She would still be affected by it on some level, and that was what he needed.  Repetition of the same theme would keep it at the front of her mind, keep her building toward the attitude of dependence he wanted.  If he put forward a constant front, then she would begin to doubt her suspicions.  Humans didn’t understand the real skill involved in a vampire’s deception.

He looked down, attempting to seem confused, or ashamed.  “Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way.  Buffy, listen to me.”  He waited until she looked up, and made eye contact.  “Buffy, you were a slayer up until a few nights ago.  That is making your transition into vampire form more difficult.  I know you remember fighting us.  I know you still want to.  But, Buffy, that’s behind you now.  That’s not you anymore.  There is a new slayer somewhere in the world that has that responsibility.  You’re just going to cause yourself pain thinking about the past.

“The present is what matters.  Here and now, you belong to me.  I know that’s a hard concept, and we’ll work on that.  I just need you to have some faith in me, and in yourself.  You are going to make a wonderful vampire.  You already have so much darkness in you, it won’t take much for you to reach deep down and tap into it.  To understand it and yourself.”

“I’m not dark!  I am – I was – a Chosen One and I still - ”  The slap caught her off guard.  It was a strong backhand that made her eyes water and her jaws ache.  Almost immediately afterward, she felt a gentle touch on her uninjured cheek.  She heard Angelus speak again, voice full of anguish.

“See Buffy?  It’s things like this that I’m talking about.  Darling, you just can’t keep this up.  I’m your Sire.  You need to trust and obey me.  When you talk back I have to chastise you.  I’d be a bad sire if I didn’t try to get you to behave.  I don’t want you to be a bad childe Buffy.  I want you to be smart, and strong, so that one day you’ll be a great vampire.”

“Like Dru?  She turned out the World’s Greatest Nutjob - ”  Another backhand slap cut her off.

“Buffy, when you address me you must refer to me as Sire.  Or Master.  And you will be sincere.  I do not appreciate sarcasm.  Those are the rules, and I need you to learn them.  Do you think I enjoy hitting you?”  He looked at her earnestly, and waited for a response.

Buffy stuck her chin out firmly, and leveled her watery eyes at him. “Yes.”

Angelus raised his hand to strike again.  “Yes, what?”

The words tried to stick in the Slayer’s throat, but the little girl didn’t want to be hit again, and the demon demanded the right to respect its sire.  “Yes, Master.”

Angelus lowered his hand and stared at her, wearing his best kicked puppy expression.  He hated that phrase of the little witch, Willow’s, but it described the sickeningly saccharine expression well.  “Buffy how could you think that?”

She snorted, saw him raise his hand, and cowered involuntarily.  He seemed appeased by her show of deference.  “Because, Master, you do it all the time.”

“Buffy, that’s because you resist all the time.  Think about that.”

She did.  It was true.

Angelus wanted to grin with satisfaction.  She was playing along.  She didn’t really believe him, not yet, but she was answering.  She was getting involved in the conversation.  She herself, the girl that Buffy used to be, the person that huddled inside her mind even now.  As long as she involved herself in this kind of exchange of ideas, it meant that she couldn’t just hide from him completely behind a convenient shield.  She had to be open to be properly overwhelmed.

“I’m going to keep you in chains for a few days Buffy.”  That got her attention.  Her eyes widened comically before she made her face impassive.  That would also foil any escape attempts she had planned.  It would force her to humble herself, and to serve in order to get his goodwill so that she could escape in the future.

Buffy’s mind raced.  She wasn’t sure how long she could stay strong physically on the light diet of Sire blood she was getting.  As for her mind, that was already in need of serious therapy.  She needed to find some way to get the chains off soon.  “Master, what about when I take a shower?”

“Silly childe,” he said dismissively.  “You can’t take a shower in chains, they’d rust.  You won’t take a shower until after they’re removed.”

“But Master I smell,” and boy howdy did she.  She reeked from being killed, buried, and raped in the same clothes.  It was driving her crazy and making her itch uncontrollably.

“Yes you do.”  He was as blunt as possible.  She looked angry.  “But until you show me you can perform your duties as a member of this family, then you will not be allowed the amenities the others enjoy.”

Buffy sighed.  She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand to go through this.  It had been two days and already she felt as though her life was years behind her.  She tried to be optimistic.  If she were especially good he might take the chains off by the end of the week.  God, could she hold out that long?  Sitting here, being raped over and over for her only entertainment.  He was being nicer though.

And part of her mind still associated him with Angel.  She wanted to believe in spite of everything, even Miss Calendar’s murder that there was something of the man she loved there.  He acted right now as if that were so.  She missed those first few nights patrolling together, kissing and talking and being friends.  Even just drinking coffee at the Bronze.  When she used to be human.  The tears started welling up again.  She fought to keep them in.

“This once childe, I give you permission to cry.”  Buffy looked at him in surprise.  He caressed her cheek gently, and though she knew it would be more heroic to resist the temptation just because he permitted it, she couldn’t stifle the sobs any longer.

Angelus moved over onto the sofa beside her.  He pulled her into a sitting position, then leaned her back against his chest.  He placed an arm around her and hugged her gently.

Buffy just kept crying.  She felt the pressure of the arm around her, and inhaled the scent her demon called Sire.  She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he suddenly jumped up and started laughing.  That seemed to her something Angelus would do.  Point and make fun of her.  But he just held on, giving her comfort as a sire should.  From time to time he hummed slightly, in a low comforting tone.

Angelus got bored after about ten minutes of silence, but he held off on any sarcastic comments.  He had her now.  His clinical outlook said that her progress for tonight was almost perfect.  One thing left.  “Childe, are you hungry?”

Buffy stiffened.  She’d been almost asleep again, comfortable for the first time since her death.  He’d said this last gently, in the same way that he’d been speaking to her earlier.  She had spent the night since finding herself in chains dreading this moment.  Right now, she just wanted it over and done with.  Then she’d be fed and she could sleep again.  “Yes, Master.”

“You know what your responsibility is in my feeding you?”

“Yes.”  She did.  She wished she didn’t.  But she had who knows how many more nights of this before the chains were removed and she could run, and hide from this and everything.

Angelus didn’t speak again.  He tenderly leaned her forward on the sofa, and braced her hands against the cushions, so that she could support herself.  He spread her knees, which also rested on the fabric, then pulled her skirt slowly up before flipping it over her waist.  He was drawing out the experience as much as possible.  No underwear to worry about.  He’d torn those off last night.

He started with fingers, as he had on their first night together.  Then he unfastened his pants and entered her from behind.  He massaged her shoulders gently as he thrust deep into her.  He deliberately finished before she did, leaving her on the brink.  Then he reached in front, and massaged her clit until she came.  Angelus was benevolent, when it served his purpose.

Then he laid her on her side again, arranged the pillows comfortably, and massaged her wrists where the chains had worn.

Then he fetched Dru to while away the early morning.
******
Please R&R




“Aim just a little higher.  At shorter distances it wouldn’t be necessary, but from here, gravity begins to affect its flight.”

Joyce cocked the crossbow and slid in a new dart.  She was getting pretty fast at reloading, if she did say so herself.  Rupert was pleased with her progress.  He didn’t say very much other than ‘yes’ or ‘good’ or the occasional ‘excellent’.  Even so, she could see the maniac gleam behind his eyes flicker to the surface sometimes, when she hit the dummy straight through the heart.  He was imagining that it was Angelus, the same as she was.

He’d let out the largest bark of laughter thus far when she accidentally hit the faux vampire through one eye.  His grin had been fixed for hours.

She fired the last bolt of the morning, and was satisfied by a firm hit to the heart.  This was her fourth day of practice, and she was an exceptionally fast learner.  She always had been when there was sufficient motivation.  She had learned all the case histories of Angelus by heart.  She’d studied Drusilla, too.  She now had intimate knowledge about what was most likely happening to her daughter right now.

She wanted revenge.  She and Rupert both knew, without ever having spoken of it, that Buffy was probably already beyond saving.  If she hadn’t committed suicide yet, it was only a matter of time.  If she was still alive by the time they raided the Mansion, it was understood that they would put her out of her misery.  No.  That they would kill her.  Or finish killing her, as that bastard had started the job.  No euphemisms welcome here.  She wouldn’t let her daughter suffer.  She told herself that, but she wasn’t sure she could follow through.

She packed away her crossbow, a present from Rupert, and the bolts, while the watcher hefted the dummy away from the tree beside her house.  They left the equipment in the living room, with the other crossbows and the pile of stakes.  Her home had quickly become the staging center for the attack that they had planned.  It was more conveniently located, being nearer to the monster’s layer.  And it seemed fitting to plan his demise from Buffy’s home.

She had been surprised that Rupert allowed the children to be involved with this.  They were so young, like Buffy.  But they were much stronger than she would have expected.  Willow still sobbed quietly from time to time, but that was all.  She was resolved to be a part of this mission.  The boy Oz and girl Cordelia she didn’t know as well, but they were also determined.  Then there was Xander.  Rupert seemed especially proud of the way the boy had matured in the last few days.  He had military instincts she didn’t expect.  Xander said they were courtesy of a bad Halloween experience, but they had clearly served him well.

The two men had been planning the attack.  They had set up surveillance watches on the mansion; all of the would be fighters kept track of the number of minions that came and went, dusting a few each night in hopes that Angelus would be distracted by their deaths.  That he wouldn’t realize the scope of their plan.  Joyce was less able to help with surveillance, due to her work at the gallery.  She was going to take a few days off soon.  She would tell everyone she needed some personal time after her daughter was kidnapped.

The police had been in contact, only to say that they had found precisely nothing.  Yesterday she had been contacted by a very kind police matron who told her they were doing everything they could to find Buffy, but that they didn’t hold much hope.  In a town like Sunnydale, a disappearance was as good as a death.  Joyce just nodded along, and pretended that this information was a new idea.

Ripper watched Joyce as she arranged her weapon with care.  She did the same thing every morning and every evening after target practice.  Joyce was stronger than he had imagined her to be.  He had a suspicion that Buffy got a good bit of her determination and fire from this woman.  If so, Buffy would have been formidable without having been the Slayer.

All of them had performed beyond his expectations.  Joyce took to vampire studies like a born watcher.  Willow had worked very hard on levitation spells recently.  She wanted to use them on stakes during the battle that was to come.  Oz was stalwart, and followed orders well.  He made no superfluous conversation, but when he spoke it was best to listen.  Cordelia had been a surprise.  She was practicing her crossbow aim too.  He didn’t think she had liked Buffy enough to risk death for her sake, but apparently he had no grasp of the relations between teenage girls.  And then there was Xander.  He was well and truly the Ripper’s lieutenant.  Ruthless in his dustings of the minions every night, he never shirked his duty.  He had even been doing better in his schoolwork, his new found determination bleeding over.

Angelus was already dust.  He just didn’t know it yet.

Giles took his leave of Joyce, and drove to the school.  He entered the library, went to his desk, and pulled a thick folder out of the bottom drawer.  Most of his time on campus was spent with this folder in hand.  Students came and went.  If they needed help he assisted them, brusquely and with a minimum of chat.  Always polite, rarely friendly.  He shelved books automatically, with a speed that surprised him sometimes.  But he always came back to this folder.

It contained hand printed notes, diagrams of the Crawford Street Mansion, the typed minutes of the war councils they’d held every afternoon.  It was the sum total of their knowledge on Angelus, Drusilla, and their activities in Sunnydale.  Every night the two of them went out to feed at sunset.  They returned at midnight.  That was the only time when they were out of the Mansion.  Minions could be seen entering and leaving at all hours in ones and twos, but the bulk left at dusk, just after their masters.

During the day, the Mansion showed little activity.  These vampires were traditional in their preference of nocturnal activity.  They had never observed more than four minions on guard at any given time during the day, one at the front entrance, one at the garden door, one at the kitchen, and one at the old servants’ quarters.  These vampires were confident in their ability to raise an alarm before anything drastic occurred.

Angelus and Drusilla’s whereabouts within the structure were something of a question.  Once they entered the building, their greatest fear was to be separated.  Together, they were an efficient, mobile insertion group.  Separate, they were frightened amateurs.  The primary goal was the destruction of these two vamps.  They needed to get a rough estimate of where they would be during the day if they wanted to take them by stealth.

They had briefly discussed the possibility of creating a disturbance, and drawing them into a trap in one of the Mansion’s larger rooms, or even the main hall.  There were no guaranties that they would come or that they could be reached in that shambles, however.

Once they eliminated the two leaders, Ripper conjectured that the other vampires would be too frightened to attempt to repulse their attack.  It was perfectly reasonable; vampires without a leader were perfectly mercenary.  They acted only for themselves.  They had one of the highest senses of self-preservation in the demon world.

That left the one wild card.  Spike.  There was always a chance that he could rally the minions into some kind of force to combat them.

No one had seen anything of the crippled master during the surveillance.  They had observed people being brought in by groups of vampires, and had stopped it when possible.  However, it was not always possible to get to the humans before they were taken inside.  Once there, they probably went to feed the damaged vampire.  Or, and this was a far greater worry, Buffy.

It was strange to him that they had not seen any corpses removed during their observation.  It was a secondary goal during the battle to liberate any humans who might be alive for snacking purposes during the day time.

The details were coming together.  They needed to act soon, already nearing the peak of readiness.  Five or six more days would suffice.  An eternity for Buffy.  But they had only one chance.  They couldn’t risk failure.
_________________

“You’ll need to be cautious.  And whatever you do, don’t go to Willy.”

Ryan paused in his note taking, puzzled.  “He has aided us before, Master.”

“Yeah, and he’d aid anyone else including Angelus, by selling us out, if it brought the right price.”  Spike pulled his right leg up to his chest, and massaged the knee cap.  Ryan was loyal, but damned if he wasn’t a little dense.  Like a block of lead.  With proper instruction he got the job done though.  He would have rather assigned this task to one of the other three, but he had more sensitive occupations for them tonight.  Alexa could meet with whoever Ryan selected later, to confirm the suitability of the choice.

“Right.  Be off then, and don’t let the other minions see you with that notepad.  They’ll know something’s up.  Be casual.”

“Yes Master.”  Ryan knew he wasn’t the first choice for this job, and that made him nervous.  He so wanted to be a good servant, and find the perfect entity to aid them.  He wasn’t the best judge of character, though.  It would have been better for him to find the house, but he was young, and nervous around humans.  All that blood rushing was too much of a temptation.  It was better that Chris handled that.  He was used to dealing with people.  And he was horrible at surveillance.  Master was wise in his decisions.

Ryan bowed, and left the room, casually, and went out as though to feed.  On the way he signaled to Alexa and Jacob, who were licking each other in one corner of the main hall.  He knew Chris had already left.  Had in fact left during the daytime, covered by a thick blanket.  He could understand why a realtor insisted on meeting her clients during the daylight hours in this town.  She probably carried holy water with her.

Alexa and Jacob walked hand in hand to the Master’s room, knocked, and entered.  They had discussed the plan outside his hearing, and were happy to find no flaws in it.  Minion culture forbade outright protest before the Master, at least if they wanted to remain undusted, but they had always found polite suggestions to be heard, though sometimes grudgingly.

Alexa could sense the tension in the Master tonight.  They knew he was going to be called to witness something tonight.  Something bad.  He had not told them everything he had learned from Mistress Drusilla, but it had been enough to set him on a daring course.  And primarily for the sake of the little blonde vampire being held by her sire.  He really had some feeling for her, more than familial, if he was willing to so openly defy Angelus.  He was filth, but he was powerful filth.

Spike sniffed the air slightly.  These two minions had been making out again.  Normally, vampires were not so single minded in their affection.  Promiscuity was their way.  But these two were different, as he himself was.  He hadn’t strayed from Dru, even when she went to Angelus.  It was reassuring that these two were that devoted to each other.  “You know your posts?”

“Yes Master.”  It was Alexa who replied.  She was the dominant in the relationship, as she was in many conversations.  Jacob was bright, like her, just quiet.

“Remember.  The Watcher is the biggest threat.  Angelus spoke slightingly of all the rest, but that doesn’t mean they’re as stupid as he claims.  It only takes one lucky shot with a crossbow.”

“What would you have us do if we encounter them?”  Good for Jacob.  Asking important questions.

“It depends on what they do.  Use your judgment.  You don’t want to turn and run if they can get you in the back.  Do not, under any circumstances, kill them.  Just go, watch, and don’t let them suspect that you are there.  I need all the information I can get on what they have planned, and their numbers.”

The minions nodded.  “Be well tonight Master.  We will bring you food and news in the morning.”

“Good luck.  To all of us.”  We’ll need it, Spike thought to himself.
______________

Miss Edith said Daddy was playing with fire.  Fire pretty.  Dru loved the flames as they flickered and died and were reborn.  Sweet William had caught her playing with them once, when the fire came to sit on her hand.  He had been frightened and made her promise not to play again.  But if Daddy played it must be alright.

Daddy said it was time for Spike to come and meet Little Sister.  He would watch tonight.  Dru skipped happily down the hall to William’s room, and breezed in.  He was already in his chair, such a good boy he remembered what she’d told him last night.  How she was to fetch him.

Spike didn’t bother to smile, or respond to Dru’s chatter.  He just wanted to get there, get this over with, and get back.  He hated to admit it, but he was squeamish enough about Angelus being with Buffy without having to witness it.  They rolled down the hallway at an irritatingly slow pace, and paused for Dru to do a few elegant twirls before opening Angelus’s bedroom door.

Spike was pushed inside and around to the near side of the bed.  Apparently they wanted him to get a good view.  He could here Angelus in the bathroom, probably doing his bloody hair.  Bastard always did like to be watched.  It was surprising he didn’t have the fucking minions here to admire his skill.  Dru skipped over to the bathroom door, knocked on it rhythmically, and was admitted.

Spike hadn’t needed to look for her when he first entered.  He could feel her to one side, at the foot of the bed.  He glanced at the couch which contained her now, while Angelus and Dru couldn’t comment on his scrutiny.  And he couldn’t take his eyes away from the spectacle.

It was exactly what he’d imagined.  That didn’t mean it was easier to look at.  His proud slayer in chains.  Hair and clothing plastered to her body by old sweat and mud.  Unwashed.  And worst, he could smell Angelus’s cum all over her.  Her eyes were open, staring blankly ahead, toward the bed.  How did she still manage to be beautiful?  Because she did.

Her game face was a sight to behold.  She had a high forehead, and cheekbones that met with her eye ridges in tear drop shaped sockets.  The ridges were smooth, and slight, and her fangs were sharp, and needlelike.  She looked more like a sprite than a demon.

Her face was calm, sad, touching.  A scared little girl trying and failing to be a martyr.  It was a fucking tragedy.  She looked sculpted in her stillness.  Immobile.  She used to fidget with nervous energy, bounce on her toes, and smile involuntarily from time to time.  He remembered on the tapes he had of her fighting style, and the more enjoyable personal encounters, that she had such passion.  Now, it was as though she’d become used to the chains already.

Angelus walked in from the bathroom, shirtless, with Dru hanging form his arm.  Smug wanker was going to get his.  He just wished for Buffy’s sake it could be sooner.  But they had only one chance of making this work, and patience was key.  And it was also far from his strong suit.  Especially faced with a sight like this.  His slayer, brought low by a bastard like Angelus.  It was sacrilegious, to do that to her.  She was his.  Would be his.

Buffy felt Dru bring him in.  She felt him staring at her, and decided to return the favor.  She hadn’t seen Spike in quite a while.  Hadn’t even really thought about him.  Seeing him now made her realize no one else had been thinking about him either.  He was skeletally thin, and still wheelchair bound, probably because of malnutrition.  She met his eyes, and was startled by the depth the clear blue showed.

She had expected him to laugh, or at least make snide comments.  He didn’t.  He just looked at her with complete sympathy.  Did she look worse than him, that she deserved it?  Maybe he just understood so well what she was going through that he couldn’t help but be moved.  Misery loves company, and they were certainly the two most miserable beings in the general area.  She found herself returning the sympathetic stare.

“Well, I think its time we begin this demonstration.”  Angelus walked over to Buffy, and Spike saw her tense ever so slightly.  Still not quite dominated.  Good.  He unlatched her chains from the floor without actually releasing her wrists or ankles, and set her on the bed so that she was facing Spike.  Angelus walked between them, and stood leaning against a bedside table, adorned with an iron lamp.

“Now, Childer, this night is exclusively for your benefit.  To remind you, and by that I mean William and Buffy, what is required of you in the way of familial duties.  I want you to learn from Drusilla.  Observe how she does not question my authority.  She does not complain, and addresses me properly.  Therefore, she is happy, well fed, and does not need to be disciplined.

“The two of you, on the other hand, have failed many times in this respect.  This is the last chance I give you to learn and take advantage of my leniency.  If you cross me in the future, beatings do not begin to cover the depth of chastisement that I am required to use to teach you.”  Angelus forcibly held off the smile that threatened to break out on his face.  Spike snorted, and looked away.  Angelus darted forward and clocked the side of his head with the reading lamp.

Buffy watched as Spike’s head rolled back, and he panted slightly at the pain.  Her immediate impulse was to get up and help him, stem the blood flow from his punctured temple.  The chains prevented her.  After a moment he righted himself, and looked suitably subdued.

Angelus sighed.  “This is the kind of thing I’m talking about Will.  I wouldn’t have thought a cripple who lives out of my kindness would be so ungrateful.  Darla would have killed you Will, long ago, if she found you disabled.  It weakens the bloodline to have you here, like this.  It is my affection for you that keeps you alive.  Don’t you think him a bad childe Buffy?”

Spike saw Buffy’s eyes go wide, and look at his, pleading for him to understand.  He did, and nodded.  “Yes, Master,” she replied.

“Good.  I’m glad that your judgment is improving, Buffy.”  He pushed Buffy to the far side of the bed, away from Spike, and beckoned for Dru while tossing away his trousers.  She came, and immediately began to undress for him.  He leaned forward and bit her, hard, and she cooed in response.  Once she was undressed, he reached back and spanked her hard on the ass.  Dru purred, and arched her neck, murmuring thank you's.

As the couple took to the bed, with Dru on the bottom and Angelus rutting above her, Buffy and Spike looked away.  Consequently, they looked at each other.  The empathy between them deepened.  They were here, listening and smelling as past loves that had abandoned them flaunted their current lover; there was something uniting in an experience like that.  Buffy was surprised when Spike, after a clandestine peek at the two vampires, turned his attention back to Buffy, and gave the couple two thumbs down.

Buffy didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.  She wanted to do both but neither was available.  So she beamed back at him.  She felt a sudden jar back to herself.  All day long she had just been waiting.  Given the demon reign, suppressed herself.  Hadn’t thought about anything but the now, because the past was an ache of pleasure and remorse, and the future was an unknown terror.  But Spike was a link.  He was in the past, he was here suffering with her, apparently unconcerned that they used to be enemies, and he was part of her future in this family.  It was a comfort.  It gave her back a little of herself, and she was grateful.

Angelus finished with Dru, and gave her a little Sire’s blood as a reward for playing so well.  “Now, Buffy, it’s your turn.”  He rolled the little slayer over, onto her back.  It would be an awkward position with the chains, but he didn’t want her burying her face in the blankets and pretending she was elsewhere.  He thrust in without bothering to see if she was ready.  She wasn’t, and let out a little cry of pain, and closed her eyes.

He slapped her.  “Buffy, I didn’t tell you to close your eyes.  You look at me while I grant you this opportunity.”

“Yes, Master,” she answered.  Spike clenched his fists to keep from protesting.  It would do neither of them any good.  He saw the little spark he’d struck recede as Angelus pounded into her, drawing blood in his viciousness.  Dru, not to be left out, reached between them and began to flick the slayer’s nipples.  Spike saw Buffy shudder at her touch.  Angelus and Buffy climaxed.  Buffy made no sound, and seemed to take no pleasure.  Angelus slit his wrist across a fang, and let Buffy drink.

“Good girl Buffy.  You see, even though you don’t give me the pleasure Dru does, you can still be fed when you behave.”  Spike’s fists tightened further, his short nails drawing blood from his palms.  Buffy looked catatonic.  Completely submissive.

Dru whined and Angelus motioned her over.  He didn’t move Buffy aside, just laid Dru beside her and started again.  “Oh, Will, you’re dismissed.”

Spike gripped the wheels on his chair and headed for the door.  As he reached it he angled himself around to get a last glimpse of Buffy.  She was staring at him, her eyes nervous, as though expecting some blame for what had happened.  Spike forced his angered face to soften, and sent as much reassurance to her in a look as he could.  She smiled back, apparently relieved.

He wheeled away quickly, seething.  He and his minions were going to have a very long talk come dawn. ‘Hold on pet.’
*******
Please R&R.


*****Chapter 6*****

He’d been standing for almost four hours.  Hadn’t swayed once.  All those months past, sitting in the chair, underfed and uncaring.  What a waste.  Then he had to stumble into an ambition, when his body was just beginning to come back under his control.  Should have found a way to get human blood sooner.  It just hadn’t mattered before now.  He walked around slowly to the wall opposite the door, and stared at it.  He reached a hand out, slowly so as not to throw himself off balance, and caressed the wood paneling.

There should have been a window there.  He liked windows.  They could be dangerous during the daytime, sure, but that’s what curtains were for.  Windows made him feel safer.  Like he had room to escape.  He’d chosen a windowless room deliberately when they came here, because a window was something he wanted.  It was something he’d work toward.  When he could walk, when he was away from Angelus, he’d have a window.

He hadn’t slept yet.  He had to talk to the minions first.  Alexa had brought his blood at dawn, then returned to her room.  He’d told them to wait until ten o’clock this morning.  It was dangerous to talk at any other time in case someone took note of the little tête-à-tête.  Spike was supposed to be an unsupported, unfed, and isolated member of the family, and other minions might be rewarded if they discovered that it was otherwise.  It wasn’t likely that they’d come around.  He’d drained then dusted the last minion that came by to antagonize him.  The draining was more for insult’s sake than for the blood.  It left a bitter taste, and he’d vomited later.

Since then, Angelus’s vamps had avoided this side of the building.  They didn’t know exactly what had happened, but they weren’t that curious.  Not enough to risk a dusting.  Angelus himself could smell other scents in Spike’s room, but that meant nothing.  Master vampires do not do their own cleaning, and Spike had that much authority.  So Spike and his minions were relatively free.  Meeting in the early hours worked for simple banter, an exchange of stories.  Nothing important was going on, and they could take a risk or two for comfort’s sake.  But something of this magnitude needed secrecy.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway.  Light, quick taps on the ground, followed by a firmer, still quiet stride.  Alexa and Jacob.  They didn’t knock, it would draw too much attention.  They entered, bowed, and took their seats.  Chris followed a few minutes later, and Ryan trailed in last.

Spike turned and leaned against the wall, determined to stand for as long as his legs would support him.  He took in the weary faces.  “You all look tired.  Long night?”  Smiles and nods.  “Well, hopefully a profitable one.  Chris, I see you made it back untoasted.  What did you find?”

Chris pulled a manila folder from beneath his coat, stood and walked to stand beside Spike.  He flipped it open.  “House for sale on Maple, two stories and full basement.  It fits most of the specs.  The loft rooms should suit you Master, now that you’re healing, and the four of us will be content in the basement.  The human can occupy the first floor.”  Spike examined the pictures in the folder, and nodded his approval.  “It is unfortunately unfurnished, but it was the only house available for immediate occupancy.  I have made the necessary payments; your signature will complete the arrangement.”

Spike took the pen the minion offered him, and signed in the indicated area.  He handed the folder back to Chris.  “Excellent work Chris.  The rest of you, be sure to memorize the address and the details.  Now.  We know where we’re going.  The next issue is the human.  Ryan!”  The minion jerked upright in his chair, having fallen asleep.  “Do you find this boring?”  Spike said with menace.

“N-no Master.  I’m sorry.”

“Very well.  Have you found our human?”

The nervous minion nodded.  “Well, um, not completely human.”  He hastened to continue as Spike took a step toward him.  “He’s part B’aste demon, part human.  He’s the youngest son of Nara, you know the local matriarch?”

Spike nodded, and moved back to the wall.  He needed its support.  His legs were beginning to shake.  Maybe he’d overdone it a bit this morning.  The adrenaline from yesterday had taken its time to wear off, but he was feeling its lack now.  “Nara.  The one I helped with the Fyarl problem?”  The minion nodded eagerly.  “Didn’t know she had a part human kit.  What’s his name?”

“Morlan.  Morrie.  She offers him to you in payment of her debt.  I know he’s not fully human, but he can pass, and I still needed an invitation to enter his apartment,” the minion continued hopefully.

Spike pondered the situation.  The B’aste were extremely proud.  They took pleasure in duty and service to their masters.  They considered any infraction to bring shame on their family name.  “Good work Ryan.”  The minion grinned and relaxed.  “You’ll take Alexa to meet him tonight.  Alexa, determine if he is truly aware of what all this involves.  If he is, and agrees, get him into the house tonight.  We need him to establish residency as soon as possible.  Chris, turn in my signature, get the keys, and get over there to let them in.”

“Yes Master,” the three minions sounded in unison.

It was too much.  His muscles were giving.  With as much grace as he could, he walked to the bed, sat down on it, and lifted his legs onto the sheets.  He began to rub gently at his calves, the motion having become an instinct.  But there were still details to tally.  “Okay.  Alexa and Jacob.  You were unseen?”

“Yes Master.”  Jacob answered.  He knew Alexa was watching the Master.  The Master reminded her of her younger brother Adam, who died in a car wreck.  Her defense of Master Spike made Jacob think from time to time of a she-wolf who was protecting a cub.  It was a wonder Angelus had not received a stake in the back from her.  He really wasn’t aware just how much his minions hated him.  But then, he couldn’t care less what his servants thought or did.  Secure in his mastery over them.

“Okay.  Details, any and all you can recall.”  Spike saw that Ryan was fast falling asleep again.  Chris was listening through lidded eyes.  Even the two current storytellers were beginning to falter.  He felt sometimes that he was the only vampire in Sunnydale who ever had insomnia.  Maybe he was.  Well, they were missing out on syndicated television.  Their loss.

Slowly the minutiae of the activity in the Summers’s house was unfolded.  The minions had witnessed a meeting between the family and friends of Buffy Summers.  None arrived singly at the house.  All were armed.  The mother and one of the girls practiced on a target with crossbows.  The target had brow ridges and fangs drawn on it.  After the meeting, they followed the Watcher, the brown haired boy and the witch to the Mansion itself.  They were driven in a van by the small werewolf.  They stayed several hundred yards up the road.  Far enough to run in case they were caught.  They proceeded to dust seven minions who were unwary, then departed.

Six fighters.  Blitzkrieg plan involving crossbows and stakes.  A bit of magic.  The tall boy, Xander was expecting delivery of a special weapon in a few days, as well.  They would succeed; sooner or later they would get inside the Mansion, to Angelus and Dru.  Spike knew that already.  They were motivated by love, where as Angel was in it for the intellectual pleasure.  Bastard.

The most disturbing news was the plan that Joyce Summers and the Watcher had for Buffy.  They’d lost hope of anything but vengeance.  That was the primary danger that they posed to Spike’s own plan.  “When do you think they will mount this offensive?”

“Soon.  They need at least three days in addition to today.  They’ll attack a bit after dawn, when everyone is sleeping.  I doubt they’ll do it before the ‘special weapon’ arrives.”

It would be close.  Too close for comfort.  Couldn’t be helped though.  “Jacob.  Tomorrow, instead of surveillance, I need you to go rent a van.”
_____________

Angelus paused outside the door.  He had to take the time to compose himself, and appear appropriately somber.  Damn, but he wished he could be here to watch the fun.  Dru had her instructions.  Under no circumstances was she permitted to dust Buffy.  And he was certain Buffy would give her good cause.  All part of his elegant performance art.  And Buffy didn’t even know what part she played.

He entered the room sedately.  Buffy was lying on the unmade bed, where they’d left her when they went to hunt.  He noted that the sheets were beginning to reek almost as badly as Buffy herself.  Well, she’d be out of them for good tonight, and he could have the minions change them.  She didn’t turn her head to track his movements, as she would have when she was the prime predator.  Now she was the runt, and it didn’t matter.

He removed his coat and laid it across the little sofa.  He walked over beside the bed and sat down on it near Buffy’s head, so that she would have to tilt her neck at an awkward angle to look at him.  He bounced on the bed slightly, making the chains move, and jarring her stiff joints.  He looked around the room, seemingly lost in thought.  After about five minutes, he looked down at her, and looked surprised, as though he had just noticed her there.  “Oh, childe.  Are you hungry?”

Buffy didn’t even wince.  It was becoming automatic now, the simple response of “Yes, Master.”  She was becoming grateful to see him at the end of his hunts.  It proved that time wasn’t standing still.  She saw no one else, except Dru, and then Spike for those few moments.  She was tired.  She was hungry.  She was lonely.  She hated Angelus, but he was better than nothing.  His presence was calming to the demon in her.  The little girl just wanted companionship.  He did take care of her.  She needed him.  The slayer was waiting.  There was nothing she could do now.  She was weaker than ever, on a meager diet provided in exchange for sexual favors.

Angelus sighed.  “Well childe, ordinarily I would feed you myself, but I’ve given you too much blood lately.  Tonight Drusilla will feed you.  The usual ritual, just with her.”

That sparked something in Buffy.  Sex for blood.  She understood that.  But with Drusilla?  She didn’t know how.  Didn’t want to know how.  “Master…I don’t know what to do.  Couldn’t I be fed by someone else?”  Whore.  Complete Ho.  Her conscious was back.  Great, because it had been a whole hour since she last felt disgusted with herself.  But hey, she didn’t care if demons were bi.  If she was going to be raped, she rather it were by boys.  “Maybe Spike?”

There was a resounding slap across her face.  Angelus nearly vamped in anger.  “Childe.  Do not ever suggest such a thing again.  He is beneath you in the bloodline, being a generation farther from me.  How dare you ask me that?”  He slapped her again.  Arrogant little bitch that had the impudence to ask for Spike.  A third blow landed on her cheek.

Buffy rushed to apologize.  “I’m sorry Master.  I’m sorry.”  She tried to bite her lip to keep from crying out, and cut it with her fangs.  Blood filled her mouth and she swallowed.  Half choking, she continued.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  I’m stupid.”

“Yes you are, you ignorant little cow.  You’ve learned nothing these past days?  He is dirt.  He is unworthy to touch what is mine.  You remember what you are childe?”

“Yours, Master.”  She swallowed more blood.

“Fucking right.  Just like Drusilla.  My childer are strong, and obedient.  Not worthless cripples.  And you are here to learn your duties to me.  Not to allow those lower to perform their duty on you.  Even if the pathetic dolt were permitted near you, he couldn’t pleasure you.  By dropping that organ on him you saw to that.”

“Oh.”  She hadn’t realized he’d been hurt that badly.  Duh, Buffy, he’s been in a wheelchair for how many months?

“Now.”  Angelus managed to reign in his demon.  Losing control like that threatened this project.  A little bating of Buffy was planned, shake her up so she’d move, but that was almost too much.  He needed to remain in charge.  “I am going to forgive you for that transgression, Buffy.  I will send in Drusilla, and you will do as you are told.  Correct?”

“Yes, Master.”  What choice did she have?

“I realize that you aren’t very knowledgeable about sex.  If you are going to be able to pleasure Dru, you’ll need every advantage you can get.  So, for tonight, I’m going to take your chains off.”

Buffy did her best to remain still.  The chains helped with that.  Inside she was jumping for joy.  Any time without the chains was to her advantage.  Most of the minions were probably still out.  If she could kill Dru, or at least knock her out, and avoid Angelus, she might be able to escape.  Knocking her out was probably the better plan.  That way if she were caught, she wouldn’t instantly be dusted.  But then, who cared, really.  Dust or not her life was over.  She just wanted to be out of this bed, away from him.  “Thank you Master.  I’m sorry I’m not more skilled.”

She hid her emotion well, Angelus mused.  “Yes, well, we’ll work on that.  Nothing but time on our hands.”  He went into the hall and fetched Dru.  They returned, and he unlocked Buffy.

“Remember and behave Buffy.  We are trying to teach you, in spite of that thick head of yours.”  He waved a finger at her like an angry professor, and withdrew, carrying the chain with him.

Buffy rotated her wrists, trying to get the feeling back.  She straightened her elbows and slowly unbent her knees.  It was going to take a few minutes for her to get control over her muscles again.  They’d been treated pretty roughly the past few days.  Chafing lines on her arms and legs testified to that.  She rolled to the side of the bed and attempted to stand, but instead stumbled to the ground.

“Silly Sister.  Sun needs to learn to shine again.  Miss Edith says you are a bright pretty fire.  Still got the pretty spark inside.”  Dru walked to where her sister was kneeling on the ground.  “Daddy says we must teach you to mind.  Bad dog.  Take off Princess’s boots, and we’ll see.”

Buffy obeyed, unlacing the leather slowly, trying to give herself time to recover.  She didn’t know the Mansion well.  She’d have to go quickly and hope not to find a dead end.  She’d leap out a window if she had to.  Her thoughts were jarred by a kick from Dru.

“Naughty Sister.  Thinks Daddy doesn’t know.  Hurry.”

Buffy finished the boots, and stood cautiously.  Dru was taller than her, but not by much.  Buffy was stronger under normal circumstances, but right now she wouldn’t bet on it.

“Now undress Princess.”  Dru held her arms out primly.  Buffy unlaced the corset and gathered the skirt at Dru’s back.  The only option to get the goth crap off was to lift it over Dru’s head.  She did, and set it on a chair by the bed.  Dru didn’t where underwear.  Great.  Not like Buffy was wearing any now.  The feeling was back, and the tingles were fading.  Dru lay seductively on the bed.

“Come here.  Touch.  Tease.”  Dru smiled.  Buffy needed a weapon.  She stood, knees touching the bed.  “Up!” commanded Dru.  “Or else I shall fetch Daddy.”  She stopped smiling, and tilted her head back, watching Buffy suspiciously.

Buffy climbed back on the bed and sat facing Dru.  The table lamp.  The one Angelus used to hit Spike.  That would do.  Just make Dru close her eyes.  She timidly reached out, and stroked Dru’s stomach.  Dru nodded to her.  She hesitated, then put a hand on the vampiress’s breast and began to squeeze.  Dru moaned, leaned her head back, and spread her legs.  Buffy almost jumped away, but held herself there.  She pulled on Dru’s nipple, while inching her right hand slowly up the side of the bed.  She moved up, beside Dru.  Buffy forced herself to bend over and kiss Dru.

Dru’s eyes closed.  Preternatural speed let Buffy reach the lamp and raise it before Dru realized she’d moved, and even then, the blow couldn’t be blocked.  Buffy crashed the lamp down on Dru’s skull once, twice.  Blood spattered from the gash she inflicted.  The body below her went limp.

Buffy leaped up and ran.  Ran for all she was worth, which, she admitted to herself, wasn’t much.  She saw a brown haired minion watch her open mouthed as she ran past him, but she kept going.  This hallway seemed to run the width of the Mansion.  She rounded a corner to her left when she reached the end, ran to the end of that passage, and turned left again.  She kept running and then saw it.  To her right, the arched front entrance.  She darted out of the shadows toward it.  The minion on guard hadn’t noticed her yet.  She leaped toward his back.

The chain moved fast as a whip, catching her ankle.  It was jerked backward, halting her flight.  She fell hard to the stone floor.  Buffy flailed, trying to loosen the chain.  Then she saw who held the other end.  Angelus.  Grinning with a sadism all his own.  He ambled forward from his vantage point.  He squatted beside her prone form.  His arm shot out and his hand encircled her neck.

“Tsk.  Tsk.  Why Buffy.  I’m very disappointed in you.”
*****
Thank you to all the kind readers and to everyone who had *****Chapter 7*****

Nara-ste Morlan James touched up the scratched wall with the paint he’d picked up this morning.  The morons that delivered the industrial fridge and freezer yesterday had left a huge scar on one side of the kitchen.  This morning he’d taken one of the paint samples left by Chris, and had a gallon mixed up at the hardware store.  That was really the only defect he could find.  He’d looked, it being within his job description to help see to the upkeep of the home he was to share with six vampires.

He’d been contacted three nights ago by his mother, Bale-ste Nara Kier, and informed that she had a mission for him.  An ally of hers who had fallen on hard times, William the Bloody, was splitting from his grandsire’s family.  More power to him, as far as the B’aste were concerned.  Spike had been the Master of Sunnydale for a short time, but he had proved useful to the demon community.

Vampires were an odd group with a strange status.  The average vampire was little more than dust, in the accounting of demons.  A leech.  Mindless half-breed stuck in game face.  Not that Morrie had anything against half-breeds; he was one himself, and proud to be of both races.  Master vampires and their minions, on the other hand, were strong, resilient, and intelligent.  They bargained and did favors.  They were ambitious, had held others to standards that were surprisingly fair.

The B’aste had a long history with vampires.  B’aste as a race like order.  They could fight but were not the greatest of warriors.  They could lead, but were not the greatest of promoters.  Their primary strength was in securing important positions in between human and demon society.  They were a bridge.  They ran demon banks, they exchanged kittens for currency, they ran restaurants and demon unions.  They were intelligent and idealistic.  Nara of the B’aste had held her court here for sixty-seven of her two hundred odd years.  Sunnydale, the Hellmouth, was a prime place for the B’aste.  Here the human and demon worlds were in constant contact.  Mediators were needed.  The B’aste came.

Demons of many species came and went, but the B’aste were a constant.  Morrie, though only twenty seven, was already an important member in the court.  He passed for human even better than the average B’aste, and was unique among them in that vampires required an invitation to enter his home.  He had used this unusual talent to hold goods for sale which were under threat.  And now he was using it to serve the best possible use for his people.  He was cementing the alliance.

It was an ancient practice started during the vampire wars of centuries past.  Different clans fought with each other, without a refuge.  Intelligent vampires hired human servants to live in the house.  Their presence, either knowing or unknowing, often saved their masters’ lives.

Morrie’s purpose was akin to a butler.  Not a minion.  He was a servant, and liaison.  He would never be tricked into allowing another vampire into the house, because he could since them.  He was clever and resourceful about all things domestic; really, he thought himself a perfect choice for the job.  His mother had as well.  She summoned him immediately when the young, nervous minion’s mission was made known to a select few.

When Spike had crashed into town to kill the Slayer, many conjectured that he would succeed.  Others thought he would flee with in a few months.  No one thought his departure would be a loss.  He shocked everyone by being approachable.  His minions didn’t wreak constant chaos, and were duly punished for infractions.  They were not permitted to kill indiscriminately, and were sometimes hired out to do services for the other species.

It was a genius approach to his position as Master.  A vampire designated the Master of a town or burrow holds some power over all the demons there in.   Vampires are great warriors, and the best able to hold a slayer at bay.  Intimidation is the typical method by which they gain favors.  Spike used the client system, one the B’aste themselves occasionally employed.  If others were in debt to him, they could not oppose him openly.

It had worked beautifully for a short while.  Sunnydale’s nocturnal population went on with their business as usual.  Then Spike was injured.  Not so horrible in itself.  He could recover.  The Judge issue was a sore spot, but nobody’s perfect.  Most believed he arranged that only because of Drusilla.  It could be glazed over, and the Slayer had prevented any major damage.  If any demons were tainted with humanity, the B’aste were.

But of course Angelus appeared.  Arrogant idiot.  He’d either ignored or bullied all the demon species that came to him, asking for assistance or justice from his minions.  He’d turned the slayer, for Pete’s sake.  No one had any illusions about what would happen if they ended up on his bad side.  And without the Slayer, the only person that could check him would be Spike, returned to his full strength.  That couldn’t happen without help.

That was why the B’aste were involved.  That was why Morrie was here.  To serve.  To strengthen.  To aid.

He’d spent two nights here now.  The first, he’d been introduced to Alexa, who seemed to be the chief minion.  She’d asked him if he knew what would happen if Angelus got him.  He’d said yes.  He did.  Alexa and Ryan had hauled him to the house and left him to stay with his sleeping bag, radio, and their thanks.  Chris had handed over the keys, and given him his list of tasks to complete.  Jacob had stopped by later, and put a large van on one side of the large garage.  The second night had been much better, what with the bed and all.  He should be considered a resident by whatever magical forces governed such things.

He was ready for the arrival of the family tonight.  A bed for the master in the loft, sofas in the living rooms, T.V.s, everything he could think of that would be used immediately.  He’d had people in and out of here all yesterday.  The minions had described their master’s tastes, and he’d done his best.  Art and personal touches could wait.

Morrie looked at his watch as he cleaned up the paint.  Four hours to sundown.  Best get some sleep while he could.
_______________

Xander called Giles as soon as he received the notice of delivery slip.  They went with Oz, and loaded the package into the back of the van.  Flame-throwers were a great advantage when fighting vampires, so they had been waiting.  Now they were ready.  They would strike tomorrow.  No sleep this night.
_______________

Angelus smiled as he stretched lazily in bed.  On clean sheets.  The past two nights had been the most fun he’d had in a long time.  Simple pleasures were the best.

Two nights ago he’d caught Buffy’s attempt to escape.  Was she really so blonde as to believe that situation?  Apparently.  Her face when the chain snaked around her ankle said so.  She looked terrified.  As though she finally understood exactly what it meant that he, Angelus, had turned her.  There was no escape except in death.

He’d taken joy in proving it to her.  He’d dragged her by the chain down several hallways to the banquet room.  Once there, he had jumped on her.  Before, she had always been required to ask for it.  It gave her just a little power.  Enough to disgust her.  Now he showed her just how powerless she had always been.  He held her pressed to the ground for several moments, while she struggled uselessly.  With one hand, he’d held her arms over her head, while his other unfastened his trousers and tore her skirt.  What little covering it had offered her was gone for good now.  During the process he’d also managed to rip most of her camisole, and had taken her jacket as a present to Dru.  To placate her for the concussion.

After raping her properly, he pulled her up by the hair, and lashed her to the fire place with the chain.  Her back was to the room, so that she could hear all that passed, but see nothing.  She was suspended slightly, so that the minions that passed by could look up her non-existent skirt and see the goods.  He left three to guard her, with express orders not to taunt her too much.  She was not for them.  He didn’t bother to beat her for crying.  It wouldn’t make her shut up, and it would ease her suffering slightly, so that the next round would still be able to penetrate into her remaining innocence.

Penetrate was a good word, too.  The next night, while the minions came and went, Angelus pulled her down and pushed past new boundaries, so to speak.  He raped her ass.  And how she screamed.  She probably thought she was too numb to care, hanging all day, awaiting the death that would come the night after she injured Dru.  Silly girl.  But as he bruised her hips against the stone floor she got the idea.  And as he licked the blood off her bleeding hind cheeks.

He’d chained her to the wall again afterwards, but at ground level and facing forward.  He’d sent one of the minions to find him a bottle.  The minion returned shortly thereafter with an old beer bottle.  Angelus took it.  Weighed it in his hand dramatically as he came nearer.  Without warning he smashed it against the mantle beside her.  Several shards flicked across her forehead, leaving thin scratches that bled down into her yellow eyes.

Grasping the remains of the bottle by the neck, he proceeded to carve into her cheek.  She jerked away at first, but his other hand came up to hold her head in a vice-like grip, bruising the temples as he carved an ‘A’ into her flesh.  He repeated the gesture at intervals, over her arms, and on her stomach.  He called for Dru.  She came, and licked the wounds, getting her fair share of slayer blood.

When he finished, it was near dawn.  He left her to stand, and went to his bed, with Dru.

And now tonight was it.  His fabulous sixth night, in which he would truly destroy the Slayer.  He dressed and went down to the cellar, to make certain that everything was in order.  His very own Chosen Ones were there.  In cages.  The sun was setting.  The minions were preparing to move them upstairs.  It was time.
_____________

Spike stood looking at the non-existent window once again.  Tomorrow he would have a window.  He would have his own home.  He would have his own family.

Or he’d be dust.  Simple as that.

The minions knew their roles.  Ryan was to meet them at the house.  He was to have conveyed all of their possessions away while no one was watching via Spike’s Desoto.  Jacob would drive the van.  Chris and Alexa would be waiting to help him and Buffy, crossbows in hand.  They had not come back to the Mansion this morning, as ordered.  If something went wrong, he didn’t want them to be here.  They could escape, find another town, and another master.  They’d served him well; he didn’t want these four dust.

He was glad they hadn’t been here last night, being busy with the final tasks.  He had needed to be alone.  Having someone with him while he listened to Buffy’s screams would have been too much.  He’d managed to take some of his anger out on his now shattered bedside table and lamp, but it wouldn’t have taken much for him to turn on one of them.

He hated this powerlessness.  He wanted to go out there today and cut her down.  Angelus be damned.  He could have taken her away without tonight’s ordeal.  When rape was the worst thing she could conceive of.  But Angelus would still have had power over her.  One Sire word and she would walk back to him.  To be killed, to kill at his command.

It was bleedin’ unfair.  The girl wasn’t supposed to have to suffer like this.  She didn’t in the movies.  The hero rescued her, and they road off into the fucking sunset.  ‘Course, he wasn’t much of a hero.

It was time.  He went to his wheelchair and sat down.  He pulled the duster into his lap, and folded it casually.  From under his blanket he plucked a crossbow, and box of bolts.

As he wheeled himself toward the dining hall, his subconscious began to sing to itself,

“Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends/We're so glad you could attend/ Come inside! Come inside…”
*****
Thanks to my reviewers and readers!
Thanks ever so to Oracleholly for the AWESOME banner.  Lyrics at the end are from Emerson, Lake and Palmer
 

BSV note-warnings for torture, rape and graphic imagery

*****Chapter 8*****

“…Come inside! The shows about to start/ guaranteed to blow your head apart/ Rest assured you’ll get your money’s worth/ The greatest show in Heaven, Hell or Earth…”

Spike rolled carefully down the hallway.  The floor was smooth in most places, but some of the seams could jar the coat across his lap, and he needed it to hide the crossbow.  He paused for a moment at the entrance to the dining hall.  He could sense the presences in there.  Angelus and Drusilla.  Minions.  And Buffy.

He entered, staying to the side, out of the main floor, and hopefully beyond Angelus’s notice.  The minions stood about three feet in from every wall, lining the space.  Angelus was in the middle.  Spike could just see him through the ranks.  He was standing still, trying to look impressive and casual.  Dru was with him.  Spike moved quietly up to the head of the room, toward the fireplace wall.  He maneuvered into the dark corner it provided.  He liked having his back to a wall at times like this.  And there was a wide gap between the minion line and the fireplace that gave him a good view of the center square.  He schooled his features to remain slack and uninterested, for that moment when he looked up and saw her.

It made sense, Buffy supposed, that because everyone else in the Mansion was here to witness Angel finally killing her, Spike would be too.  His unique signature had registered with the slayer parts in her.  They’d fought often enough for her to isolate it.  Funny.  If any vampire in this room were going to be the one to kill her, she would have bet on Spike.

Even when Angelus showed up, she didn’t think it would be him.  He tormented her, killed people she loved.  He would break her, not kill her.  Well, he’d succeeded with the first part.  And she was ready for the second.  It was the most calming thought she’d had this week, that knowledge that this was it.  She was going to die.  She didn’t think she’d go to hell, but it would be worth it to get away from Angelus.

She turned her head slightly, from her position beside the mantle, still in chains.  There was Spike, in the corner.  His eyes flashed as he stared back at her.  She watched them roam down her body taking in everything.  Torn clothes.  Blood.  The cuts that let the blood out.  His eyes worked back up to her face, and linked with hers.  She could see something lingering behind them.  Something powerful.

Fury.  That’s what it was.  He must not have seen it going this way either.  Maybe he could still kill her.  She was all exposed.  Be nice if he had a crossbow.

He wasn’t wearing his coat.  He looked smaller without it.  They’d both fallen so far.  She wondered if he’d miss her.  He’d been fun to fight.  Maybe she had been too.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”  Angelus spoke, enjoying his role as ring master.  “You all know that I made a new childe, Buffy.”  The minions nodded.  Angelus looked at the ground, apparently shocked by what he was about to relate.  “She is here tonight, in chains, because she has disobeyed me.”  Sounds of disgust from the crowd.  “I know that all of you are loyal, and that it is hard for you to believe such a thing.  A childe, not yet a week old, trying to escape its Sire?  Monstrous.”

Buffy listened to the sounds of assent, and murmured outburst against her.  It was just Angelus’s big build up.  It wasn’t her fault that she was a bad childe.  She was supposed to fight vampires.  It wasn’t like she’d been disobedient constantly.  Well, kind of.

“Some would say that I have been benevolent in having let her live this long.  But I think she could be a good vampire, if only she would submit fully, as every childe should.  And so, tonight I will give her a final chance to prove her loyalty to me.  Bring them in.”

Something cold and heavy landed in Buffy’s stomach.  This wasn’t part of the plan.  Prove herself?  No, he was going to kill her because he had finally decided she wasn’t worth keeping around.  This was going to end.  Now.  And bring who in?  Oh, God…

Humans.  She smelled them before she saw them.  Rich and warm, the demon part said.  Food.

Now she was scared.  She knew.  She knew the minute they entered the hall what Angelus wanted from her.  A kill.  Her first kill, as an offering to him.

It was a group of about twelve.  A couple young families.  Two mothers hugging their elementary school children, the fathers trying to be protective, but just as scared.  A few teenage girls.  Some younger than her.  They huddled together in the middle of the open space, and the minions that had made way for them moved back to block the exit.  Buffy thought about history at Hemery.  She didn’t remember the teacher’s name.  But she remembered the pictures of the Christians being thrown to the lions.  That was what this was.  And Buffy was supposed to be a lion.

Angelus turned toward her.  He was smiling.  “Now Buffy, I’m going to unchain you.”  He walked over, and unhooked her arms and legs.  Her raw wrists ached in the cold air.  She sank slightly, unused to supporting herself.  And tired, and hungry.  So hungry.  She glanced at the people before her.  They were looking back at her too.  In horror.  She was the kind of monster they feared.  Not a victim like them.  She was the one that was supposed to suck the life from them and their children.

“The task is a simple one, Childe.  All I ask for is a kill.  One kill, drink its blood, and prove that you are more than you have shown yourself to be.  That you can think outside yourself.  That you can think of your family.  Of your sire.  Please Buffy.”  He leaned toward her, and spoke a convincing plea.  “I don’t want to lose you.  I lost you once, when you took away my soul.  Don’t make me lose the only opportunity I have left to be with you.”

Buffy began to cry.  She knew it was a lie.  This wasn’t the Angel she had loved.  This was the monster.  He was using her, trying to dominate her.  Twist her beyond recognition.  But it was such a nice lie.  She wanted to die.  She wanted to be loved.  She wanted the suffering to end.  He wasn’t going to kill her.  Not yet.  He was giving her another chance.

Because her knew she couldn’t take it.  Yet another chance to torment her.  She sank to her knees, put her face in her hands, and continued to weep.

Angelus forced his smile into a frown.  It was hard, but he managed.  “You’re making me angry Childe.  This is a pitiful display.  And it’s not going to get you out of doing your duty by me.”

She ignored him.  It was wrong to ignore her Sire, but even worse to listen to him.

Angelus marched over to the group of victims and grabbed a man.  In his late twenties, slightly balding, with glasses.  He through him down before Buffy.  “Kill him.  Drain him.  Be forgiven.”

Buffy looked up from her hands, straight into her enemy Sire’s eyes.  “No.”  Her lips shook, and she pressed them together to stop it.  She was glad that she had sounded firm.

Angelus picked the man up, and tossed him to Drusilla.  “Have fun, sweetheart.”  Dru giggled, and obliged.  She pulled his eyes out with her long nails, one at a time, and ate them.  Then she tossed the screaming future corpse to the nearest rank of vampires, who proceeded to drain him from multiple bites.

Buffy watched his family wail.  His wife grabbed her children, and held them tight, shielding their eyes as best she could.  She looked at the man’s body as it sunk to the floor, limp and lifeless.  The empty eye holes reminded her of a movie.  She wondered which one.  She wouldn’t be seeing it again.  Angelus was saying something, but she didn’t listen.  She heard him stride toward her, and felt him jerk her head up.  The pain felt right.  She’d just witnessed her first live mutilation.  Nothing like pain could be out of place here.  “Choose a victim.”

She stared at him.  Did he really think her answer had changed?  It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to kill them all without her help, later.  “No.  N-O.”  The backhand to her face was not surprising.  It hit the still healing ‘A’ carved there, and it broke open again.  She watched him toss the other man to the crowd as well.  See.  Getting the job done on their own.  No need to bother her.  Her demon was enjoying the smell though.  It smelled heavenly.  Not Sire’s blood, but still.  Blood.

Angelus pulled a girl from the group, about twenty two.  Dressed in a pretty blue skirt, that was promptly ripped from her body.  Next went the thong underwear.  He forced her onto the stone ground, and unfastened his pants.  He raped her.  Buffy looked away.  More screaming.  She’d been there.  She sent all the sympathy she could to the girl.  But it wouldn’t stop the death.  She sensed the moment that Angelus bit her neck.  He ripped it open, barely drinking, and let her flop helplessly as the pool spread.  She died.  The minions laughed.

“Ready yet Childe? Ready to join the fun?  Ready to let your demon out to play?  You smell it.  You enjoy it.  The fear, the blood.  It is what you are now Buffy.  It is what you need.  You are a demon.  Do your duty.”  The former slayer fixed him with a glare.  Pure hatred.  He took that as the ‘no’ it was meant to be.  He grabbed a younger girl, younger than Buffy herself.  He cast her beside the most recent corpse, in the blood.  He stripped her and surged inside, and yes, she was a virgin.

Buffy heard the girl shriek, and smelled the fresh blood that came when Angelus broke through.  She had stopped crying.  There were no more tears to be shed.

It continued.  Each death more gruesome than the previous.  The mothers were gone.  Skin shredded, and their children covered in gore.  The teenagers raped and sodomized.  One of the children dismembered while living.  The night passed, until only the youngest, and previously the most innocent remained.  The air reeked of sex, blood, and fear.

Angelus, coated in blood and various other fluids, grabbed one of the remaining children.  He shoved the quivering boy into Buffy’s arms.  She looked at him.  He was dressed in blue, with little sneakers.  He couldn’t have been more than four.  Brown haired, with deep brown eyes.  He didn’t fight to get away from her, thought she knew that she was in game face.  He curled into a fetal position in her lap, and sucked his thumb.  He must think the devil had him.  Looking up at Angelus, she decided that the devil had them all.

Angelus sighed.  “This can all end Childe.  Right now, if you want if to.  I give you that power.  Fulfill your duty to me, and I will see that these others meet there end without pain.  You know that they are going to die tonight.  Why make it worse than it has to be?  Just one life.  A few pulls on the neck.  That’s all I want.”

Buffy looked at the corpses.  He was right.  This needed to end. And if she could ease the deaths of those that were left, she owed it to them for letting this monster out.  She looked coldly at her Sire, where he stood above her.  “Them first.  Kill them first, quickly, without hurting them.  Then I’ll do it.  You know that I keep my word.”

Angelus sneered and laughed.  She was going to do it at last.  He shot a quick look to the minion behind her, out of sight of almost everyone.  The one that had the video camera.  One of Spike’s more intelligent decisions had been to film the Slayer.  Nice of him to leave the camera lying about where someone with a similar use for it could find it.  He looked back at the girl, and nodded.  “Very well.”  He walked over, and broke the necks of the children.  He looked to her.

Buffy looked at the tiny boy in her lap.  She put her hands on either side of his face.  He didn’t seem to feel it.  She twisted.  She heard the sound, and saw the eyes go dark.

He was dead.

“Now drink.”

“Never.”  She picked the body up, and laid it on the ground.  She arranged the little limbs to be straight.  She stood unsteadily and walked over to Angelus.  She looked him straight in the eye.  Then spit.  It landed on his face, and he roared in anger.  He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her from the ground.  He carried her out of the banquet room into the entry way, before the doors she had tried to escape by the other night.  The minions followed.

Angelus dropped her, and she did not bother moving.  “Childe, you have disappointed me for the last time.  I cannot have you here to corrupt those which are loyal.  I hereby renounce your creation.  You are no Childe of mine.”

Buffy screeched as the wound on her neck opened and bled.  His bite was gone.  She felt the emptiness inside her.  Her Sire had abandoned her.  He wasn’t going to kill her.  She wasn’t worth that.  He was just tossing her aside.  He didn’t even care that much.

Angelus turned to his minions.  “Go all of you.  Sleep.  This night has seen the end of my youngest childe.  Forget her, and let us be restored to hunt again tomorrow.”

He walked to Dru, and they left without looking back.  People wonder how artists can part with work they are so proud of.  Artists only complete their task by letting their work go, to be judged.  It is only failures that they hide away for themselves.  Angelus felt no sense of failure here.
_______________

Spike did not follow when the crowd left the dining room.  He stayed at his chosen post and waited.  It was so very tempting.  The smell of it had been working on him for the hours that they had been here.  To get out of the chair and on to his knees.  To lean over and put his face into.  In that pool of human blood coating the floor and drink.  Feed.  Be well again.

But he couldn’t.  There was another, equally strong smell that made him want to heave.  Whenever the bloodlust became strong he remembered the faces of the little girls.  Rape was an abomination.  These children hadn’t deserved that.  And even if the situation were different, he was not prepared to take Angelus’s leavings.

He thought briefly of the little boy.  He hadn’t been tainted by the carnal nature of the vampires around him.  He was fresh.  He would make a meal…

But no.  Buffy wanted it this way.  He would respect her wish in this.  He wasn’t a fool.  Life with her was going to be difficult.  As a former slayer she would frown on killing.  Might even stake him for it.  Certainly stake the minions.  Hell, he’d been drinking pig’s blood for months.  And only a little at a time.  He’d give anything to be full, even if it was from slop.  And maybe she wouldn’t object to a murderer now and then.  Plenty of those about.  Rapists. 

That just brought him back to the now.  Poor Buffy.

He heard Angelus’s speech outside.  Drama queen.  But it was what Spike had been waiting all this time for.  He had freed Buffy to hurt her. So that she would have nothing to fall back on.  The girl could not bring herself to go back to her family and friends.  They might have been able to handle her being a vampire.  But she had blood on her hands.  Never mind that it was a mercy killing, and that those children would have been dead anyways.  He hoped that Buffy could forgive herself.  He’d work on that.

She was alone now.  Completely, for the first time in her life.  Being the Chosen One did not compare to being a cast off.  She had had a purpose.  Now she was dirt.  She had betrayed the greatest trust placed in her:  to protect humanity.  It was no coincidence that Angelus had taken her to the front door before dropping her.  He wanted her to lay there, broken, until the sun rose.  She would realize how very inviting it looked.  She would raise herself up, proud and determined, and walk outside.  End the abomination she saw herself as.

The minions dispersed, gradually.  After an hour, Spike maneuvered the wheel chair forward, avoiding the blood-slickened spots on the stone.  He went cautiously up the hall.  He saw up ahead the guard he had expected.  Angelus wanted to make sure that his plan didn’t go awry.  Buffy might be made of stronger stuff than he anticipated.

Or in this case, she might have help.  The guard had not heard his approach.  The Powers be thanked for well-oiled wheels.  Spike pulled out his crossbow, and silently loaded it.  He drew a bead on the back of the sentry.  And then there was no sentry; just a pile of dust at the corner.

Spike hooked the crossbow strap around one of the handles on the back of his chair.  He could sense no one up ahead but Buffy.  He rounded the corner, and there she was.  The tableau was moving.

Buffy lay where she had been dropped.  She stretched out parallel to the door, facing it.  She had pulled her legs up to her, and wrapped her arms in front of her.  A few tears, from who knows what reserve, had leaked out.  So had some blood, from Angelus’s marks.  She didn’t have a plan.  She knew she was being watched.  She just wanted to be here, on the ground.  The cold stone was real, and firm, and reassuring.  She felt as though she were waiting for something.

She heard the sentry dust.  So Spike did have a crossbow.  She had never been more grateful.  He cared.  He cared enough in his own misery to come and find her.  He would make things better.  This wasn’t about her being his third slayer.  This was about a decent end to a worthy enemy.  He rolled right up behind her.  His hands reached down and grasped her between her arms and her body.

She stiffened for an instant, then relaxed.  She wanted whatever he was willing to give.  Death, or taunts, it didn’t matter.  It meant that someone found her worthy of notice.  He pulled her up, and into his lap.  He draped his duster, that soft, comforting leather around her shoulders, and pulled it underneath her.  In a moment it was a little cocoon.  Surprising.  Then he leaned down, and kissed her neck.  Oh, he wanted a taste?  Well, that was fine.  Ah, there.  Fangs through the skin.  Felt so much better than when Angelus and the Master did it.

Spike was as gentle as he could be.  Her other scars would fade of their own accord.  He needed to place a new one on her neck.  He sucked delicately for a few moments.  It tasted more wonderful than he’d imagined.  Then he tilted her head toward him, so that she could see his eyes.  “Orphan.  I hereby claim thee to be my Childe, to protect, to cherish, to teach, as though first remade by me.”

Buffy stared in shock at the face of her savior.  He wanted her.  Not just to rule over her.  No, she could see it in his face.  So open, so loving.  He wanted her for his family.  Maybe for himself.  He wanted her to be strong.  He would protect her.  His eyes promised it.  She smiled as he caressed her face with one fine, white hand.  He brought her face up to his neck.  “Drink Buffy.  It makes this final.”

She wavered.  “I don’t know how.  Angelus just opened his wrist.”

“Feel with your lips along the neck.  Find the artery between the muscle and the throat.  Then let your teeth down into it.”

She obeyed.  Spike tried not to worry about just how wonderful her lips felt.  That wasn’t what either of them needed now.  Her fangs entered on target, and she took a couple shallow sips.  She licked instinctively at the drops that welled up as she removed her mouth.  Spike shivered.  Buffy noticed, but was too tired to consider it.  She was falling asleep, and gave in.  She snuggled nest to her Sire.  He arranged her against his chest, and began to move again.

He approached the door cautiously, so as not to disturb his drowsy cargo.  He pushed it open, and was greeted by Alexa.  She smiled at him, and he smiled in return.  The van he had ordered was there, backed up to the entrance.  He wheeled over.  Chris and Alexa together lifted him, Buffy, and the wheelchair into the back.  They jumped aboard and pulled the doors shut.  Spike watched out the back window as the Mansion receded.

After a while the van slowed, and entered a driveway.  His driveway, his garage.  Once the garage door closed, he and his charge were lifted down.  Morrie presented himself immediately, and Spike thanked him for his services.  Spike handed Buffy over to Jacob.  She protested sleepily at being removed from her Sire’s grasp, but Spike couldn’t carry her up the stairs to the loft.  He’d have enough trouble getting there himself.

He managed the stairs, slowly, methodically.  Alexa had taken charge of Buffy, placing her in the bathroom.  With Spike’s help, she stripped the tattered clothes from the girl’s body, and put her in the tub.  Spike washed her hair, while Alexa tended to the rest.  Soon his childe was rinsed and dried, and wrapped in a soft white robe.  Alexa carried her to the bed, which Morrie had turned down. 

Jacob brought blood for Spike, and he drank greedily, until he was sated.  The minions bid goodnight, and shut the door when they left.  Spike was exhausted by this time.  He looked at his bed.  Buffy was fidgeting slightly.  He kicked off his boots, then lay down beside her.  She immediately rolled toward him, and cuddled close.  Spike put an arm over her, and tucked her head beneath his chin.

They slept peacefully.
*****
Please R&R.

*****Chapter 9*****

Angelus paused in his pacing around the bedroom, sensing for the sun.  It was still at least ninety minutes away, damn it.  It must have been three hours ago that he’d finally tossed away Buffy in front of the minions.  It was a moment that he would treasure for the rest of his existence, on earth or in hell.  The look on her face was a supreme joy.  Pure despair.  Now he was waiting for word that she had ended herself.

Much as he would have loved to witness it in person, it could not be.  She had to believe that he had given her up entirely in order to kill herself.  Between her slayer sense and her vampiric nose, she would know he was watching.  As long as there was a way out, she would be willing to take it.  Vampires have an inordinately strong sense of survival.  Nothing but a direct order from a superior in the bloodline will cause them to risk their second life.  Suicide is common among the disillusioned and heartbroken, but it is necessary for there to be no hope in sight.  

Besides, his video camera man would be back before dawn, and would be more than able to record it.  And thinking of the errand the boy was running just made him even more impatient to reach the end of the night’s giddy festivities.  Maybe if he was very cautious, he could sneak a look at her.  He pulled on fresh clothing, his own having been put in the garbage after the party.  Maybe he should have saved them.  They weren’t fit to where, but ah, the memories.

A glance at Dru showed that she was asleep on the bed, naked.  They had had their own little bash once they got back to the room.  It had included a fair amount of Irish whiskey, and he grabbed a bottle on his way out, ready to toast again to his success.  He walked stealthily out into the corridor and down toward the front entrance.  Not wanting to be dusted, Angelus kept careful watch for the guard he had placed on Buffy, in case of her attempted escape or reentrance into the Mansion proper.

He was in the hall that intersected with the foyer before he realized that something was wrong.  The guard was not where he’d been stationed.  Approaching the position, Angelus observed a small mound on the ground where the minion should have been.  Dust.  Forgetting caution, he darted around the corner to where Buffy should have been.  She was gone.  It wasn’t that there was dust in her place.  There was blood, and a few scraps of fabric that had once been her clothing, but no dust.  She had escaped.

The whiskey bottle collided with the front door.  Fucking little cunt was not supposed have the will!  How could she do this to him?  She would have been his masterpiece.  She couldn’t have done it alone.  No.  He’d seen to her debasement too thoroughly.  Who would dare defy him here, in his own house?

The Watcher?  The man wouldn’t have stopped at the front door.  He would have found Angelus and tried to kill him.  He would have failed, of course, as he had the first time.  Too much ground to cover without the minions hearing the scrape of hurried shoes.  And not her little friends, either.  They lacked the stones.

He sniffed the air, asking for a hint.  Just the familiar smells of the Mansion.  Minions, blood, himself, Dru, Spike.  Spike?  He barely left his room except to go to the gardens or the banquet room.  There was only one reason for his scent to be here. 

Angelus charged out of the entryway to the crippled vampire’s room and through the door open wide.  The bed hadn’t been slept in.  The bedside lamp was in pieces on the floor, as was the table that had been there.  The wheelchair was gone.  He tore open the closet, and ripped out the bureau drawers.  All empty.

No words.  Nothing to describe how his bastard grandchilde would suffer when he was found.  It was beyond even the description of Angelus’s imagination; Europe knew just how vivid his mind was, too.

Angelus streaked back to his room and jumped on Dru.  She woke slightly and stared dazedly at him.  “Dru.  Dru wake up!  Where have they gone?  Where has Spike taken Buffy?”

Dru stared at him a moment and then released a tormented wail.  “My boy has left us!  Gone, gone forever and I’m never to see him again.”  Tears slid down her cheeks.

Angelus grasped her arms and shook her.  She kept crying.  “Where have they gone Dru?  Answer me!”  He slapped her hard.  She continued to weep, and refused to speak again.  After a moment she was asleep again, too drunk to stay conscious for long.

Angelus roared in fury, and went to rouse his choice minions.  He chose twenty-five for the task.  If Spike’s clothes were gone, it meant he’d had transportation, probably the old DeSoto.  They were to search for it, or word of it.  Check all the demon bars and his known associates.  Check butchers shops and spy on Buffy’s family.  Someone must know.

He needed something to amuse himself before Dru woke fully.  He felt a conversation with that spineless snitch Willy was just what he needed about now.  He ducked into the garden, and leaped the wall.  Once on the other side, he went at a dead run.
_______________

Oz had transported drunken band members from concerts to their houses, while also carrying their equipment, and several six packs.  The van was packed.  But it had never seemed as full as it did right now.  There were five guys in the band, plus a drum set, guitars, bass, etc.; so it wasn’t that two adults, four teenagers and a truckload of weapons took up more room.  Maybe it was the atmosphere of anticipation that filled in the silence that made the load seem heavier.

They were sitting on a side street just over a block from the Mansion.  They were waiting for Giles to give the word.  He was staring at his watch, waiting for ten o’clock to come.  Oz looked at Willow to see how she was fairing.  Of all the people here, she was the most-tender hearted.  What they were about to do would hit her hardest, and he would be there for her.  She didn’t need him right now, though.  She was wearing her resolve face. 

She was the most lightly armed in appearance, but that was an illusion.  Her magic had grown in a scary way the last few days.  Every time she went to bed having exhausted all of her reserves, she showed up the next day with even more power.  He had no doubt that she was poised to become an extremely powerful wicca during the next few years.  She was stake girl, their stealth fighter.  She could levitate the wood in to take out the guards they’d be facing.

Xander had already strapped on the secret weapon, and was waiting, stone faced.  When asked how he’d manged to get a flame thrower, he just smiled and shook his head.  Beside him was Cordelia, who had invented an easy access belt for her crossbow darts, kind of like a bandolier.  She claimed it was faster than using a quiver.  Joyce, as she insisted she be called in place of Mrs. Summers, was similarly attired.  Giles and Oz had gone with the more traditional quiver approach, though Oz had an actual bow.  His cousin had taught him how to shoot years ago.  Of course, his cousin had also turned him into a werewolf.

He’d love to meet Angelus on the full-moon again, and have the memory of it the next day.

Last night, he and Xander had come for final recon at sunset, ready to dust a few more minions to keep up appearances.  But even though they waited for two hours, not a single minion left the house.  They heard some noise coming from inside of the Mansion, and went to the windows to investigate.  A boost from Xander had gotten Oz high enough to see into some kind of a giant dining room.  The scene was best described as ‘orgy’.

He hadn’t been able to see the near wall, but he could see Angelus and a crowd of humans.  Clearly, the secondary objective of the mission was going to be a mute point tomorrow.  He’d watched Dru dig her claw-like fingernails around the eye sockets of one man and pull out the eyeballs.  He was then tossed to the crowd.  Mob mentality.  Yuck.  Even by demon hunter standards, yuck.

They’d retreated to Buf- Joyce’s house, and told Giles.  He’d been thrilled.  Angelus was at home, and wouldn’t be leaving.  It meant more rest for the team, not having to worry about the ceremonial minion dusting.  And all the vampires would be tired this morning.  Too bad about the humans, but they would have been dead anyway.  Oz knew that being a werewolf he had a tendency to overlook bloodshed; it was part of his life, unfortunately.  He wondered what Giles’s excuse was.

“It’s time,” Ripper decreed.

Oz hit the gas, and pulled away from the curb.  They stopped out of sight of the Mansion.  No one was staying to mind the car, since, well it was daytime, and they were fighting vampires.  In a moment they were all on the pavement.

Giles prepared to give a last briefing to his troops.  They were as ready as they could be; it was for him to be the drummer, and set the rhythm.  “Remember.  If something goes wrong, head to the outside.  Dive out a window if you must to escape.  They won’t be able to follow unless they are wearing cloaks or blankets, and then they’ll be easy targets.  Do not, for any reason, stray from the group.  Let’s go.”

They walked out of step and quietly to the kitchen entrance.  It had been decided that it would be the least traveled area of the Mansion.  Giles and Joyce went first, flanked by Willow and Cordelia on the sides.  Xander and Oz watched the rear.  Giles eased opened the unlocked door, and looked inside.  The idiot minion on guard had his back to them, watching the telly.  He widened the gap and entered, sneaking up on the back that was toward him.  The minion must have been young, not to hear his heartbeat, or smell him.  Were they so short of people that a fool was on guard?

The vampire sensed him at the last moment and turned, but Giles had him round the neck and Willow had levitated a stake to his heart before he could respond.  She pressed it in slightly as Giles spoke.  “Answer or have your tongue cut out.  Tell me where your Master’s room is.”

The minion squeaked an answer through the crushing pressure on his throat.  He was no martyr, not when the room was filled with armed people.  “The end of this hall, last on the right.”  Willow plunged the stake in, and tried not to breathe the dust.

They moved in formation down to the specified room.  Another guard had been just beyond the kitchen.  Apparently the vampires had some sort of relay system.  It was good for them, Ripper thought, that today the morons of the Order were manning it.   They reached the end of the hall, and he tested the door knob.  It was unlocked, as well.  He through open the door and the entire group rushed in.  Oz and Xander did as they had been told, and kept watch on the door.

If they had turned around, they would have seen Drusilla on the bed, crying softly, and clutching a little doll.  Miss Edith no doubt.  Giles approached, never for a moment lowering his weapon.  At six feet, he spoke to her.  “Drusilla.  Where is Angelus?”

She looked at him as though unsurprised by his presence.  “Gone to find my Sweet William who has stolen away my Little Sister.  They’ve left me, gone to the white house and the trees.  All alone, even Daddy gone.  Spike and Sister and the five little soldiers gone to make home.  All gone.  Never see them again.  Miss Edith is sad, so sad.”  She stared at the doll again for a moment.  “Miss Edith is angry too.  Mustn’t let Daddy be hurt.  No.  NO!”  She shrieked and threw herself at Giles.  He braced for the impact, trying to raise his crossbow, but she was already dust.

Joyce inserted another bolt in her weapon, and reset the string.  “For Buffy.”  The others nodded.

Suddenly, they heard a rush of feet.  Minions, alerted by Dru’s scream.  Giles yelled to run and they leaped out the door.  He shoved Cordelia and Willow to the forefront as he watched the minions pour into the hall behind them.  Their exit cutoff, they ran toward the front of the Mansion.  They took twists and turns until they dodged through a door into the dining room.

Bodies.  Bodies everywhere.  Congealed blood on the floors and walls.  They paused for an instant then continued in their flight.  Xander stopped and braced himself halfway across the open space.  He waited until the others were several feet behind and minions were flowing in through the door they’d come through.  The rest of the team saw his plan and stopped.  They aimed.  On an unspoken cue they all fired.

In an instant the room was filled with fire and flying arrows.  The minions dusted left and right, coating the air with powder.  Somehow they recognized Xander through the mayhem as the one causing the most destruction.  Several of them had crossbows, and attempted to disable him directly.  No shaft could reach his body through the wall of flame he kept before them.  One had an idea, a memory from a history class from long ago.  He moved to the wall, to a point at which he was almost abreast of the human.  He aimed for the tank the boy was wearing.

Willow saw the explosion.  Saw Xander catch fire.  Heard him yell.  And it was as though she wasn’t Willow.  She was more.

Oz was spun around by catching an unlucky bolt to the arm, when he saw her.  Her eyes were black, almost as though they sucked the light from the room.  In a deep voice she called out “Extinguish!” and gestured to Xander.  Water appeared suddenly in the room, directly over the burning boy, washed over him until the fire was quenched, and disappeared before it touched the ground.  Giles ran forward and grabbed the charred form.  He hoisted it over his shoulders and yelled retreat.

Oz, Cordelia, and Joyce ran full speed after him.  Willow followed, walking backwards, and chanting over and over, “Insinerae, Insinerae, INSINERAE!”  At each word another vampire exploded in flames.

Once outside in the hallway, Willow’s eyes reverted to green, and she wavered as though about to collapse.  Oz caught her and half dragged her out toward the front doors.  They ran outside, and made the van in a few moments.  Once he was sure that Willow was safely inside, he made for the driver’s seat.  He headed immediately for the hospital.  It was kind of hard to drive with an arrow in your arm.

Giles sat in the back frustrated beyond description.  Xander groaned, his wounds oozing a clear fluid.  His skin flaked onto the floor in places.  Another instant aflame and he would have been lost.  Angelus was gone.  Spike had Buffy, still alive.  They’d failed.
_______________

Buffy woke feeling warm and content.  She wondered why.  Did she die?  Maybe this was heaven.  Could vampires go to heaven?  Heaven smelled nice.  She sniffed.  Heaven smelled really nice.  And had strong arms.  And soft skin.  She opened her eyes and realized that she was staring at someone’s neck.  She pulled her head back slightly, and her eyes met deep blue orbs.  Spike.

She smiled, and he smiled back.  He ran a hand through her hair, stroking gently.  “Good morning Buffy.  How do you feel?”
*****
Thanks to everyone who kindly reviewed last chapter!  I’m grateful for the support. 
 

*****Chapter 10*****

Spike had been awake for hours before Buffy opened her eyes.  Ever since he’d felt that sudden pain that told him his Sire was no more.  He didn’t move, didn’t scream, didn’t look for something to be killed.  Nothing to be done, after all.  Dru was already gone.  His dark princess would never be seen again on this earth.  It was a strange feeling, the loss of his Sire.  She’d been his everything for one hundred and twenty odd years.  And at the same time, she’d never been his.

She felt for him as Sire to Childe, not as her love.  Oh certainly, love was involved, but not the kind she felt for her beloved Daddy.  Spike had been jealous when he first realized that as a fledgling.  Had been jealous when she turned away from him when Angelus returned, after so many years of faithfulness.  But he found that now, when she was dust and memory, he didn’t begrudge her the love she had not shown him.  It was hers to place where she would; if he hadn’t been smart enough to see that, it was his own fault.  He wouldn’t have left her anyway; she needed him.

Poor Dru.  What were her last thoughts?  Was she lonely?  He hoped not.  Lonely was a horrible way to die.  It was how he’d died.  Maybe she didn’t even know she was dead.  Maybe the Watcher, had to be him or one of Buffy’s mates, caught her by surprise, and she was sitting in a field somewhere in the netherworld, picking daisies with Miss Edith.  He didn’t believe she’d go to hell; half the time she didn’t know what she was doing, just followed her vampiric instincts or listened to Daddy.  She wouldn’t be punished for crimes she had no conception of.

He wandered for a while amidst memories of Dru, smiling and laughing.  Her giggles were something he had always delighted in.  He would never hear them again.  That thought forced a few tears out from behind his eyes.  He didn’t mind.  Dru was worth them.  She had been the last of his family.  Angelus certainly didn’t count anymore.  Spike had broken with him and his other childer, wherever they were around the globe.  He wished idly that he could have saved Dru, but she would never have come with him.  And she would have been a danger to Buffy, who was his childe.

She was his family now.

Buffy.  He looked at the slight form still cradled in his arms.  She looked so peaceful and fragile.  Breathing in an unnecessary rhythm. He realized for the first time that she was warm.  Not hot like a human, but she was giving off just enough body heat to raise the temperature of the blankets, and of his skin where they touched.  She hadn’t tossed or whimpered once he joined her on the bed, something of which he was very glad.  He had feared nightmares would start to plague her right off.  The marks on her skin, Angelus’s A’s, were fading.  No more than jagged darker lines against her tan skin now.  The emotional scars…well that was anyone’s guess.

She was so young.  Just a bit over seventeen.  The younger they were, the more resilient, that was certain.  She had been, or hell, maybe still was a slayer.  Just what was the qualification for that?  Anyway, that gave her strength.  Add to that the fact that she was now a vampire, and made of much sterner stuff than she could yet realize, and you had a girl who would heal completely, given time.  Spike, having spent the last century caring for an insane woman, would be more than capable of helping her recover.

He needed to be careful with her for these first few days.  She couldn’t be allowed to isolate herself, or shy away from the necessities of vampire life.  Much as he believed in his power to continue on in this world, Spike knew that it was always a possibility that he would precede her into a final death.  She needed to be well adjusted and independent in case of that eventuality.  There was so much to teach her.

He also had to find out what view of vampire life Angelus had given her and discourage it.  He would have twisted it to meet his own needs in breaking her.  He would have programmed her to certain scenarios, giving her a set response that would allow her to avoid punishment.  Spike wanted to avoid triggering those at first, give her time to acclimate to her new situation. 

He spent the remainder of his time before her awakening searching for the perfect greeting.  Something innocent, and innocuous, but something that would give him a read on her mood.  ‘How do you feel?’  Yes, that was the simplest thing he could formulate.  He had asked after she opened those beautiful amber eyes, and smiled at him.  She promptly burst into tears.

Proof that successfully escaping Angelus was a fluke in his unending stream of bad plans.  Shit.

Buffy couldn’t help it.  She knew he was confused, and that crying when she woke up in bed next to him probably wasn’t helping.  It was just that she felt hungry.  She knew that in this house in meant something different than it had at the Mansion but the memory was so strong and so overwhelming that the sobs came on their own.  Angelus wasn’t even here, but his torment lingered.  She flashed to other memories of her captivity, and continued to weep.  It just wasn’t fair.

He was at a loss as to what was wrong.  She wasn’t trying to get away from him; if anything she was holding on more tightly than before.  When she woke her hands had been resting on his biceps, and her cheek was laid against his collar.  She had paused for a moment when she heard the question, then her eyes dilated and in an instant her arms clutched him around the neck, and her head was buried between them against his chest.  He held her tight, but it was hard to give comfort from this position, when he could barely see her.

He didn’t want to push her away to change position, so he held firmly to her torso and rolled onto his back.  He sat up gently, with her across his lap.  His legs protested the angle, but he pushed himself back so that he could recline against the iron headboard.  Buffy’s crying showed no evidence of slowing, and her knees were pressing against tender parts of his anatomy that were just beginning to get the feeling back.  He lifted her enough to maneuver her legs to one side, so that she was sitting on his lap.

Bewildered as he was, he knew one thing about women and tears: it was best to let her cry.  She’d been through hell, it was her right.  He put an arm around her shoulders, pushing her chest against his.  He began to rock her, slowly, back and forth.  She didn’t resist, just hung so tightly to him that he felt as though they were joined at the skin.  Rocking.  Rocking and humming.  That’s what his mother did when he was a little boy, scared, or sick, or lonely.  He began to hum, tunelessly at first, since he didn’t know very many comforting songs.  Soon he realized he was humming an old favorite of his mother’s, the one she’d used for him.

Buffy absorbed the comfort gratefully.  She needed it as much as she needed blood.  It seeped from her Sire into her, his touch helping to reassure her.  The memories stayed in her mind, but the intensity lessened.  Her crying slowed, and her gasping breaths quieted.  She realized she had a chokehold around Spike’s neck, so she relaxed her hands, and they wandered down beneath his arms, then linked behind him in a loose hug.  She moved her head to rest against his shoulder, and sniffled slightly.

Spike felt some of the tension leave her, and stopped his rocking at the behest of his lower back.  Those muscles hadn’t had this much use in a while.  He rubbed her back soothingly, and gave her a few minutes to rest.  She seemed almost to doze, as though the sudden effort had tired her, despite her long sleep.  He adjusted her position, so that he was supporting her back against one arm.  Her face inclined against the upper part of his arm, and her eyes were closed.

He wanted to wait until she spoke, of looked at him, but he couldn’t.  He wasn’t known for his patience, but he was truly becoming concerned.  “Buffy?  Luv, are you alright?”  She opened her eyes, and stared up at him.  She looked peaceful.  “Are you hurt, pet?”

Buffy smiled.  He looked so lost, and worried about her.  She nuzzled against his shoulder.  “No.  Just being emotional Buffy.”  He was rubbing her arm in a faint circular motion.  It felt nice.

“Did I do something wrong?”  He hoped he hadn’t bollocksed up his first day as her Sire.

Buffy shook her head quickly.  “No you just asked me how I felt.”  She swallowed.  “And I felt hungry.”

He tilted his head to one side and stared at her.  “There’s nothing wrong with that pet.”  She shifted a little and looked away.  Oh.  “But I bet Angelus made you pay for what he gave you, didn’t he?”  She nodded and continued to avoid his eyes, obviously embarrassed.

He wasn’t going to tolerate that.  “Buffy, look at me.”  He waited until he had her attention.  He reached the hand that had been on her arm up, and curled it around the side of her face.  “Nothing that happened in there was your fault.  You don’t need to be ashamed off it.”

Buffy stared at him pleadingly.  “I just went along with it.  I stopped trying to fight.  I - ”

“No.  Angelus had tortured people for centuries.  He’s got it down to an art.  You picked your battles.  That’s a slayer tactic, pet.  Remember the first rule of slaying?”

“Stay alive.”

“There you are.”

Buffy toyed with the hem of his t-shirt.  “Master, did Angelus - ”

Spike started, and his eyes clouded slightly.  He spoke gently, “I’m not your master Buffy.  You’re not my servant.  You can call me Spike; if that makes you uncomfortable, you can call me Sire.”

“I like that best.”

“Okay.  What were you saying?”

It was harder to ask than she expected.  And she knew the answer, but she had a feeling that hearing him say it would help.  If Spike had gotten over it, she probably could.  “Did Angelus… do to you the kind of things he did to me?”

Spike sighed.  “Yes luv.  But not all at once.  You have to understand that the Angelus that’s here now isn’t quite the same one I knew, before the soul.  This one’s a bit barmy; probably all those years of being forced into knowing his conscience.”

Buffy frowned.  “A soul’s not a conscience?”

“Oh, no, a soul’s just the thing that holds the different pieces of you all together; makes you acknowledge the conscience.  Without a soul, you can just ignore it and listen to the demon instead.”  Buffy was still frowning.  “What’s wrong now?”

“I feel kind of dumb.  Do all vampires know this stuff?  The Watcher’s Council never said anything like that.”

Spike snorted.  “What the Wanker’s Council doesn’t tell their slayers doesn’t make the slayers question the morals of goin’ out and stakin’ every demon that comes by.  And don’t feel dumb.  Don’t ever say that about yourself.  My childe is not dumb.”  Buffy giggled.  “You’re not yet a week old.  I’ve been a vampire for 116 years, ‘ve had time to learn this stuff.  You didn’t have a decent sire right off, but you do now.  There’s so much I’m going to show you.”

Buffy thought he sounded proud.  He really did enjoy the idea of being the one to open her eyes to her knew status.  And she was anxious to learn.  She could sense the sun, she could smell him in a crowd, and she could hear butterflies outside their windows.  That was only the beginning.  She could feel power in her, from sources as yet unknown.  But she didn’t think she could learn on an empty stomach; she never had before. “Can we start with the education of Buffy Summers after breakfast?”

Spike laughed.  It was a nice clear, friendly laugh, and it warmed her further.  “I suppose we can arrange that.  Can you reach my neck?”  She nodded.  “You remember how to do it?”  She nodded again.  “Go ahead then.”  He tilted his head back for easier access.

Buffy sat up and put an arm on his opposite shoulder to steady herself.  She pressed her lips against his neck, feeling for the vein.  He really did smell nice.  She delayed inserting her fangs for a few moments to feel his soft skin on her lips.  She bit down gently, hoping that she didn’t hurt him.  His blood was sweet, and strong.  Sire’s blood, her demon said.  She drank savoring the taste.  She felt a little shiver run through her; she was kinda getting turned on drinking from him.  She hadn’t from Angelus.  She liked this feeling.

Spike held himself still.  He tried desperately not to focus on what she was doing.  But it was undeniably erotic.  She took such dainty sips, like he was some rare dish she was thoroughly enjoying.  He was getting aroused, and felt his blood descending.  He was shocked to realize that if she kept this up, he was going to end up hard.  He hadn’t had release since the accident.  And fuck, how long had it been since he actually had sex?  Dru’d been too ill for almost seven months beforehand to be of assistance, and he wasn’t about to cheat.

He wanted Buffy.  She had appealed to him since that first night, when he watched her dance.  A little young for his tastes, and a slayer; otherwise he’d have been tempted to get her alone.  And he had her alone, right now.  Oh, fuck, this wasn’t a good line of thought.  He control, and Buffy didn’t need him coming on to her now, especially considering how Angelus had abused mealtime with her.

Spike restrained himself as much as he could, thinking about Angelus screwing Darla, about Angelus and Dru, about Angelus and … Buffy.  That one did the trick.  It gave him back the control he needed, though the scent of her own arousal threatened to drive it away again when it reached his nose.  He was so distracted trying to keep his reactions under control that he forgot about telling her when to stop.

Buffy continued to pull on his blood, taking deeper sips when he didn’t stop her.  She was almost full when she realized that he wasn’t completely with her.  His eyes were closed and he wasn’t moving.  He looked even more pale than normal.  “S-sire?”

Spike jumped awake, his head dizzy from the loss of blood.  His childe was panicking.  He patted her shoulder.  “Shh, it’s okay.  It’s okay.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  We’ll just go down and I’ll get some brekky myself.  Plenty of pig’s blood from the butcher.”

“You’re not hunting?”

“Too dangerous.  Angelus might see us out and about.  Can’t have him finding us until we’re strong enough to fight back.  And I need to introduce you to the others.”

“Oh.”  Buffy looked down at herself, and realized for the first time that she was only wearing a robe.  “I don’t have any clothes.  And I’m clean.”  Her brow furrowed.

“Alexa and I cleaned you up last night.  I had her look into some before we brought you here.  She said she put some things in the dresser for you.  You go grab some.  The bathroom’s in there,” he gestured to a door on the far wall of the bedroom, “so you change and we’ll head down.”

He’d seen her naked.  That was the only thing she processed immediately.  Huh.  She grabbed some clothes, pretty close to her size, some brown jeans and a pink top.  Alexa was kind enough to include panties and bras, which she hid in with her other clothing.  She marched over to the bathroom, set her clothes down, and looked in the mirror.  There was nothing there.  She shrieked, and in an instant Spike was beside her.

Spike hugged her, and turned her back to the mirror.  “Easy luv.  I’m sorry Buffy.  Stupid of me not to think about it.”

“It just feels wrong,” she whimpered against his skin, “not seeing me.  Like I’m not here.  And what if I look ugly?  I won’t know how to fix it.”

Spike grinned, but didn’t laugh.  This was serious to her; it was serious to every new vampire.  “You could never look ugly love.  Mirrors still bother me sometimes.  It’ll get easier.”

Buffy sniffled again, ashamed to feel the tears starting for the second time this morning.  “Don’t I look ugly now?”  She gestured to her ridges and fangs.  “I don’t even know how to get rid of them.”

“Buffy look up here.”  She did.  He was in game face, staring down at her.  She’d never noticed how expressive a face with ridges could be.  He looked kind and patient, even with his demon out.  He really was rather attractive as a demon.  “Beauty is relative.  For a human, a face like this isn’t something to be proud of.  But you’re dealing with vampire standards now.  And you are the most lovely vampire I’ve ever seen.”  He willed her to see the sincerity.

“Really?”  He called her lovely.

He nodded.  “Mm-hmm.  Now watch me pet.  Think about what you look like as a human.  Reach into your memory, and picture yourself without your lumpies.”  His game face receded slowly.

Buffy did as instructed, and felt her face shifting.  She reached up and felt her former smooth forehead and nose.  She ran her tongue along the bottom of her incisors.  Yep, no fangs.  “Thank you Spike.”

He smiled into those sweet green eyes.  “You’re welcome Buffy.”  He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“Hey.  How come we don’t lisp in game face?  Angelus does.”

“’Cause Angelus never could get anything right.  I’ll bet you a fiver he can’t even program a digital watch.”

She laughed.  “No, he can’t!  I asked him to set the time on mine once while I was digging for something in my purse, and he didn’t know how!”

Spike smirked.  “See?  Now get dressed pet.  My tummy’s gurglin’.”
________________________

Angelus stared at the ashes around his bed.  His childe, all but six of the minions he’d left behind, and every drapery in the dining room destroyed.  Drusilla gone.  Now he’d be stuck with fucking his food.  And his food certainly didn’t have her experience.  And her prophecies and visions weren’t his to see anymore, either.  That meant finding Spike was going to be a hell of a lot harder.

Damn Watcher. Should have killed him along with that teacher he was trying to lay.  He’d figured she was the more dangerous one at the time.  And now he had two burnt out layers courtesy of Ripper.

Someone was going to pay for these insults.
*****
Thanks to the readers and reviewers for sticking with me!

Best wishes to all our brothers and sisters in England.  God be with you in these trying times.*****Chapter 11*****

Giles stared through the glass at the mummified form that was Xander Harris.  Bandages covered every inch that the blankets did not.  The boy had been placed immediately in critical condition when they’d arrived at the hospital with his charred body in the back of Oz’s van.  The burns were extensive.  His entire upper body had been singed, down to his waist.  The burns ranged from second degree on the torso, to fourth degree at the shoulder blades.  Skin had literally slid off below his neck when the orderlies lifted him onto a gurney.

The staff raved that it was a miracle the fire had been put out so quickly.  He would probably have lost his facial features if it had continued even a few seconds longer.  As it was, he would need reconstructive surgery on his right ear, chest, and certainly the back.  When flame thrower tanks explode, the damage is instantaneous.  Of course the hospital didn’t know it had been a flame-thrower.  The remains of the device had been stripped off before the van arrived at the hospital.  It was with ease that Ripper thought up the cover story: a hazing effort by the local college that had gone horribly wrong.

They would need to tell Xander the story when he woke up.  He’d been mercifully unconscious or in shock since the explosion.  He had released an occasional groan, but Giles doubted that he felt anywhere near the pain he would have if he had been awake.

His parents had been contacted.  Xander’s mother was here now.  She had stopped crying, and was sitting patiently by his bedside.  Her palm rested on his thigh, because the bandages made it impossible for her to hold his hand.  She would need to leave soon, due to ICU regulations.  She’d be behind the glass with the rest of them.  Mr. Harris was unavailable.  He was busy working.  When he got off, he’d come over.  Neither doubted Giles’s story, not with so many witnesses.

Said witnesses were on benches in the waiting room, down the hall.  Giles could just see them from his position.  Oz as always was stoic and solid.  A good support for everyone else, now that the other constant in the group of amateur slayers was lying in the glass room.  Explaining the crossbow bolt in his arm had been simple.  It was just an accident that happened while he was target shooting.  No police report would be filed. 

Next to him dozed Willow.  She had been suffering from a migraine and spontaneous nose-bleeds since her display in the Mansion.  It was nothing Giles had seen since Amy Madison’s mother and her black-eyed curse casting.  Willow was obviously much more powerful than anyone had suspected.  He would begin working on her control and training immediately.  That much raw strength needed focus.

Cordelia was often compared to a queen by the children because of her self-important attitude.  The comparison seemed accurate to Giles now because of her grace in this harrowing situation.  She had fought well, dusting minions without showing fear.  She had been determined to see the mission through.  When Xander fell, she was shocked, but did not break formation.  Someone witnessing the event might have thought her callous and unfeeling.  It wasn’t so.  She was merely restraining her sorrow for the appropriate moment.  Not until after she had heard the news of Xander’s condition, and comforted Mrs. Harris to the best of her ability, had she allowed her tears to fall.  At the moment, she was sobbing with quiet dignity in Joyce’s embrace.

Joyce was a fierce woman when crossed.  Ripper himself feared to anger her, especially now that she knew how to use a crossbow.  He was glad that she’d had that small bit of vengeance this morning against Drusilla.  It was fitting that Joyce have the chance to destroy one of her daughter’s oppressors with her own hands.

They had all performed admirably.  And yet if Drusilla were to be believed, Buffy was still in the clutches of the Order Aurelius.

Spike.  William the Bloody.  He had taken Buffy out of the Mansion, apparently without Angelus’s knowledge.  It must have happened the previous night, sometime after the orgy.  That would explain Angelus’s absence during the raid.  His prize had been taken, and he wanted it back.

Giles searched his mind to decide what Spike would want with Buffy.  It was obvious that she was a choice trophy.  Maybe he still wanted the honor of causing the final death of the slayer.  Either way, Buffy was still suffering life as a vampire.

They needed to kill Angelus.  They needed to find Spike and probably kill him.  God only knew what they needed to do with Buffy.
____________________

Buffy loved this bathroom.  It was clean and brightly lit by incandescent bulbs.  She had never liked fluorescent lighting because it seemed so institutional.  The tiles covering the floor and the walls up to waist height formed a black and white square pattern.  The walls were painted red.  The cabinets under the sink were white, and the fixtures were silver.  The room had a separate shower stall and one of those big tubs with the water jets.  She’d have to try that sometime.

It wasn’t well equipped.  There was some soap, and surprisingly vanilla shampoo.  Probably her Sire’s doing.  She desperately wanted to wax her legs, because even a vampire’s hair grew out in a week.  Oh well.  At least she was clean and dressed in new clothes.

She laid her robe across the edge of the tub and went back into the bedroom.  Its supplies were equally sparse.  The floor was wooden, with a warm brown varnish on it.  The room was large, almost twenty feet on each side, but it contained only three pieces of furniture: a sturdy king-sized four-poster made of a deep cherry colored wood, a matching dresser, and a matching desk.  It wasn’t much, but it was a good start for their room.  Theirs.  That sounded nice.

Spike was sitting on the bed when she emerged from the bathroom.  She felt almost human again.  Well, not human.  She felt like herself again; she just wasn’t completely certain what ‘herself’ meant now.  It was one of the things she knew she would be discovering in this new home.

Home.  She stared into space, not noticing when Spike came to stand beside her.  Home last week was with her mom and her friends and her Watcher.  Now home was her Sire.  Buffy sighed sadly.  She’d lost them by being turned.  True, they weren’t completely beyond her reach.  She would probably get in touch with them, find out what had been going on since her death, and learn how to be friends again.  But there was a fundamental gulf between them and her created by her vampirism.

They were accustomed to fighting against vampires.  Vampires were evil, unless they had a soul.  Jesse and Angelus (she didn’t believe that she’d ever see him as Angel again) were the proof.  Buffy had a soul, at least she was pretty sure she did, but her Sire did not.  Her friends would see her Sire as something to be killed, someone to save her from.  Buffy saw her Sire as her rescuer, as her friend, and as her companion.  He was her family too.  It would hurt as much to lose him as it would to lose one of her human family; no, it would hurt even more because of their bond.

She would learn about such things soon.  Her friends would finish high school, and then go to college or get jobs.  They’d get married and have kids.  Buffy, on the other hand, was going to learn how to be a vampire.  She would know the most intimate secrets of her kind; things that she could never share with a human.  Not because she didn’t want to be open and honest, but because they couldn’t understand what she was talking about without experiencing it themselves.

Then there was the question of immortality.  As a slayer, she had always known that she would die before her friends, and she had.  But she was also going to outlive them by decades, as long as she didn’t lose a fight.  And hey, former slayer with extra vampy strength, not likely to lose.  She might live for centuries to come.  They would not be there with her.  Her Sire would.

She realized he was beside her.  Not touching her, but still a reassuring presence.  She looked up at him.  He had his head tilted to the side, a look of curiosity and mild concern on his face.  She was quick to answer his unspoken question.  “I was thinking how separate I am from them now.  Mom, Giles, Xander, Willow, and everybody.  I can’t ever really be at home with them again.  Because I’m already home here.”

Spike wrapped one arm around her back and the other around her waist to draw her close, so that her head rested on his shoulder.  She toyed idly with the red over shirt he was wearing.  “I’m glad you can say that, kitten.  I was scared you’d try to deny it, try to go back to them.  But like I said, you’re a smart girl.”

“It’d be silly, trying to hold on.  It wouldn’t work.”

“Doesn’t mean it hasn’t been tried.”  She looked at him questioningly.  “Vampires trying to hang on to what they used to have.  I did.”  He sighed.  “But that’s a story for another time.”

A low rumble from inside him met Buffy’s ears.  She giggled.  “I think your stomach is trying to tell us something.”  She pulled away enough to look into his face.

“Then let’s get downstairs and do something about it.”  He dropped his arms from her body, but took hold of her hand, so that he could lead her.

A little side corridor led to the stairs out of the loft.  They were wooden, with no railing on the drop off side.  Except for the little part hidden by the loft walls, the whole stairway could be seen from the rooms below.  Buffy walked on the outside edge, and peered down at the front door and the living room.  The entryway had black slate tile that ran past the foot of the stairs into another room, while the living room had the same wooden flooring as the loft.  The living room had a large stone fireplace, but there wasn’t a single piece of furniture in it.  All the walls except those in the bathroom were white.  Another set of stairs right next to the ones she was on ran down from the living room to the basement.

Buffy watched Spike walk as they descended.  His movements were slow and cautious.  He didn’t shake, but he lacked that powerful stride he’d had when he first came to Sunnydale.  It was going to take a few minutes for him to get down to the first floor.  She had assumed last night that staying in the wheelchair was a way to trick Angelus.  It was, in part, but it was obvious that he was far from well.  He probably liked the climb to the loft room, because it proved he was making progress. “Sire, how long have you been walking?”

“Started the day before you arrived at the Mansion, after the minions were finally able to bring me some decent blood.”

“When I first saw you at the Mansion, while Angelus and Dru were…”  She trailed off.  The memory was raw enough for both of them without reliving it now.  “I thought you looked like you hadn’t fed in weeks.”

He sighed.  “Fairly true.  The minions you’re about to meet smuggled a little animal blood in when they could get away with it.  Some old human stuff from the hospital too.  Angelus wanted to keep me weak, never did like competition you see, so he forbid anyone to bring me food.  Most of the minions at the Mansion obeyed him, ‘cause he’s the highest in our bloodline left in Sunnydale.”

Buffy frowned.  “But what about Dru?  You’re her childe.”  She couldn’t believe that Dru would be so cruel as to leave him hungry.  He loved her.  But then of course, she was also cheating on him at the same time.

He smiled ruefully.  “Dru.  Poor thing didn’t usually know what day it was.  Didn’t bring me much blood before Angelus showed up.  Brought me a puppy once.  Couldn’t bring myself to eat it.  Had Chris take it away.  She barely made decisions on her own.  If Daddy said something, it was law.  She obeyed him like no other.  He made her.  Tortured her into insanity.”

Buffy shivered.  “He killed her family, didn’t he?” Spike nodded.  “Will he try to kill my mom and Giles?”

No use trying to deny it.  “Yes, luv, he will.  And us.  But we’re safe here for a while.  And they can take care of themselves.  I had the minions check ‘em out this last week, see what they’d been doing.  They were training up, even your mum.  She takes to slayin’ like a vamp to blood, they said.  Right good shot with her crossbow.”

Buffy smiled.  “I always thought Mom would’ve been a good slayer.  Especially after she hit you with that axe.”

He looked at her in mock outrage.  “Now that bloody hurt!  ‘Course I’m kinda glad I didn’t get to kill you.  Like havin’ you here with me.”  She stared at him in surprise.  He looked away, berating himself for being such a sentimental poof.

He looked so shy!  Like he’d just told her he had a crush on her.  He really had though, hadn’t he?  She looked down at the steps.  “I like being here with you, too.”  She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.  It was his turn to be surprised.  He smiled warmly.  Buffy felt like blushing.  She decided to change the subject.  “So who’s with my mom?  Giles?”

“Watcher’s been the one in charge.  Scary bloke he is, for a human.”

“He used to be into a bunch of black magic and demon possession stuff in like the 70’s.  You remember Halloween?  That was done by one of his old buddies.”

“That was a fun night.”  She glowered at him in disapproval.  He smirked.  “Well, fun for me.  There’s a dark headed whelp they call Xander, quite the shot himself.  Takes after the Watcher.  Little red-headed witch, too.  Been levitating stakes.  Witch had got herself a short little werewolf, just about her size.  Another girl, brown hair.  Cheerleader, apparently.”

“Cordelia?!” Buffy laughed.  “Cordelia as a warrior.  You know, in some twisted way that makes sense to me.  Crazy.  So what are they getting ready for?”

Spike didn’t answer immediately.  “This morning.”

Her brow furrowed.  “What do you mean?”

“They raided the Mansion, trying to take out Angelus.  They figure you were vamped, want some revenge for that.”  He wasn’t about to tell her that the Watcher planned on putting her down if he found her.

“Did they succeed?”  She asked earnestly.  “Did they get him?”

“No.  Not him.”  His voice choked a little.

Buffy understood.  Her eyes teared up.  “Oh Sire.”  They’d reached the bottom of the stairs by now.  She wrapped her arms tightly around him, trying to offer a little comfort.  He leaned into her a bit, and she took on some of his weight as he returned the hug.  She was already very attached to him.  Her Sire.  If she lost him she didn’t know what she’d do.  He’d known Dru for more than a hundred years.  They’d been lovers almost all that time.  The loss must have been hard on him.

Spike sighed.  “It’s okay pet.  She’ll be happier now.”  He pulled away.  “Come on luv.  Time for you to meet the others.”

He led her to the left along the slate tile, into a dining room.  There was a single man sitting on the left side of a long mission style dining table.  He appeared to be about twenty-five.  He was slim and wiry looking.  His hair was an unnaturally bright orange, like a popsicle.  It stood straight up on top of his head, and bushed out slightly over his ears.  His ears were a little pointed, if she looked closely.  He had a thin neck, and a pointed chin.  His eyes were a very light green, almost a yellow.  She sniffed the air.  Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have thought anything about him if she saw him on the street.  He looked human.  But he didn’t smell like it.  She edged a little nearer to Spike.

Spike noticed her wariness, pleased by her caution.  So she could smell that he wasn’t what he looked like?  Good for her.  The half-B’aste had noticed them and now stood respectfully beside the table.  “Buffy, this is Nara-ste Morlan James.”  The man smiled warmly.  “He is our servant.”

Buffy watched as the odd man continued to smile and walked over toward her.  He extended his hand and she shook it.  He had a heartbeat, and he didn’t smell bad, just different.  She unconsciously cocked her head to the side.  “You aren’t human.  And you’re not a vampire.”

“No, I wouldn’t be much use if I were a vampire.  I’m half-human, half-B’aste.”

Buffy felt her eyes widen.  “I didn’t know there were half-demons, Mr., um…”  She was embarrassed, but he had a really long name.

He smiled benevolently again.  “Call me Morrie.  Half-demons are more common than people realize.  We just hide better than the real thing.  My mother Nara is the leader of the B’aste in Sunnydale.  We’re a kind of merchant demon.  We help demons and humans interact successfully when we can.  And we help our allies.”  He cast a look at Spike.

Spike saw Buffy’s confusion.  “I did a few favors for Nara when I first came to Sunnydale.  Morrie’s living here so that other vampires would need an invite from him if they wanted to get in.  And he works a little mojo; enough to keep locator spells from finding us.  We’ll probably put up a few more wards in the next couple of days, to give us an idea when Angelus is about.”  Buffy nodded in understanding.

“I’m also the one who buys blood and furniture.  Using Master Spike’s money, of course.”

“You have money?”

“Sure pet.  Managed to save a little in the last century or so.  Enough to get me around the world, and get me things I need.”

“Where do you bank?  I mean, aren’t they suspicious that you look like a fifth your age?”

“There are demon banks.  Fair number of them run by the B’aste, actually.”

“Oh.”  Buffy’s head was beginning to spin.  Well, she wanted to learn, might as well get used to it.  And this was only the first day.  She heard Spike give a command to Morrie to fetch the minions.  Apparently they lived downstairs.  Spike maneuvered her to a seat near the head of the table.  She insisted that he go get himself some blood when his stomach complained loudly again.  She really needed to start drinking the bagged stuff.  He needed time to heal, and feeding her just cut down on the reserves he had to heal with.  She felt a little disappointed at the thought that she wasn’t going to get to drink from him for a while.  She really liked it.

So Spike was rich.  He had to have more than a little if he was able to get this place on such short notice.  It wasn’t a Mansion, but it was a lot more than anyone else she knew could afford.  He could have gone anywhere in the world once he left Angelus if he wanted to.  Why had he stayed here where it was dangerous?  The answer flashed into her mind, shocking her.  Spike had done it for her.  His childe.  He knew that she needed to be here.  That she wasn’t ready to leave yet.  That was one of the kindest things anyone had ever done for her.  He didn’t have to do it; he was her Sire, he could have ordered her to go with him, and she would have.  He really did care a lot for her.

She cared a lot about him too.  And not just because he was now her Yoda.  She smiled.  Xander had told her about that surreal moment when Spike called Angelus that.  She didn’t think Spike’d mind if she borrowed his line.

She heard movement from the front of the house.  Someone was coming up from the basement.  Five someones.  She could separate the sounds of their footsteps in her mind.  The first to enter was Morrie.  He sat down at his original seat, on the opposite side of the table, but farther down than her from the head chair.  She knew instinctively that the place of authority belonged to Spike.

Next to enter was a woman with a firm step.  She was about 5’6’’, had shoulder length brown hair, and dark brown eyes.  Her oval face looked friendly.  Buffy thought she looked thirty.  She couldn’t be too much older than that if it was Spike that had made her.  The easy stride that followed her belonged to a tall man, at least six feet, broad shoulders, also brown haired but with blue eyes.  He was a bit younger, maybe still in his late twenties.  They sat on Buffy’s side of the table, the woman one seat down and the man on the other side.

Next came another man, about Spike’s height with straw colored hair.  He had green eyes and a fast step.  He sat one seat down from Morrie.  Last came a boy, about twenty, with sandy hair and brown eyes.  He walked slowly, and yawned as he sat down next to the second man.

It was all very precise, as though they knew their places in this small society perfectly.  Buffy guessed it was kind of like queens and kings.  The important servants sit nearest.  Morrie probably got to be closest because he was an ally.  He probably got paid.  That meant the chief minion was the woman to Buffy’s right.  She might be oldest, or just the one Spike liked best.  The boy was obviously the youngest, probably turned just before Spike was injured.  Buffy was sitting right next to Spike, on his right, without a seat between them.  Did that make her queen?  Wouldn’t Cordelia be jealous.  Except for the whole vampire thing.

Spike returned, carrying two mugs of blood and a coffee carafe that Buffy figured didn’t contain coffee.  He set one mug in front of himself, and one in front of her, and filled them both with blood from the carafe.  He took a long swallow, and she followed suit.  It tasted icky.  Especially when the only thing she’d ever drunk was Sire’s blood.  Oh well.  She’d just have to get used to it.

Spike looked at the demons assembled at the table.  All loyal, all his.  He felt a sudden sense of belonging.  It was an unusual feeling for him.  Time to introduce everyone.  He placed a hand on Buffy’s shoulder, and addressed the others.  “This is my Childe, Buffy.  Serve her as you serve me.”  Buffy’s eyes widened to saucer stage.  Spike knew she’d never had servants before.  “Buffy, you can ask anything of these beings and they will give you an honest answer.  They will be happy to help you or show you anything.  Do you have anything you’d like to ask them now?”

Buffy swallowed.  “Could you tell me your names?”

Spike smiled into his blood.  “Morrie you know.”  He gestured to the minions.  “Introduce yourselves.”

“I’m Alexa,” the woman said.  “I’m the eldest, and chief minion.”

“You helped with me after…”

Alexa nodded. “Yes.  I also got you some clothing and supplies.  Is there anything else you need?  I’m going out for more supplies tonight.”

“I have a couple of things.  A list, actually.  You don’t mind?”

Alexa smiled.  The Master’s childe was young indeed.  “No.  I’d be happy to.”

“I’m Jacob.”  Alexa’s friend said.

“I’m Chris.”  Straw-hair.

“Ryan,” said the young minion sleepily.

Buffy smiled back at them.  “It’s very nice to meet you all.”  She looked at Spike.  “So if I’d like anything I just ask?”  He nodded.  She took a deep breath.  “Okay.  Who handles furniture?”

They all laughed, and Morrie raised his hand.
*****
Thanks to everyone who continues to review!  I hope you continue to enjoy.
Thanks to Linda, my new Beta.

*****Chapter 12*****

Angelus scowled at the map of Sunnydale taped to the wall of his new lair.  The Mansion was no longer safe, certainly not with his limited supply of minion guards.  Damn Watcher.  Should have taken more precautions after the first attack at the factory.  Factory, to Mansion, to an old hotel on the edge of town called the Sunnydale Arms.  The dilapidated hellhole was far below his normal living standards; that it was also filled with rats brought to mind unwelcome memories of years spent in alleys, living on the worthless beasts.

The accommodations aggravated his already foul temper.  Six nights and six days had passed, not including the night of the ‘banquet’ on which Buffy was stolen from him.  Dawn was imminent on the seventh day since the disappearance, and there had yet to be a sign of her.  Or of Spike, the little prick.  Angelus’s fist crashed into the exposed drywall beside the map.  The large round hole it left was one of several that decorated the room.  Taking his anger out on the walls had proved to be his only relief during the day.  He couldn’t afford to dust anymore minions to take the edge off his displeasure, because he needed the few he had.

It all came down to Spike.  Angelus had been trying to decide since the moment Buffy disappeared just how he’d done it.  He’d planned and plotted and escaped undetected.  He probably had minions assisting him, but it was impossible to know how many were with him, with so many piles of dust in the Mansion.  Angelus had been certain that Spike would go to ground in another abandoned building.  He’d had the minions searching every night since the disappearance.  Now more than three quarters of the map had been crossed off, the buildings in the canvassed having all come up clean.

They examined ever abandoned factory and condemned building.  Nothing.  The tombs and crypts in the local graveyard.  Nothing.  The tunnels and caves throughout the city underground.  Nothing.  Even the mall, the clubs, the slaughter houses, the museums, and the schools were being searched.  Still nothing.  Angelus had intimidated every source he could find and beaten up Willy once again.  He’d offered rewards.  He’d come as close as he ever would to begging.  And still that little shit of a grandchilde eluded him.

Not a wiff of him, or a sight of his De Soto.  The butcher shops had only sold bulk blood to non-vampire demons lately.  And all of them paid in cash, no names and no addresses exchanged.  Angelus had contacted a local black witch to do a locator spell using what little Spike had left in the Mansion, but without success.  Either he was out of range, or he was protected by wards.  Spike wasn’t the type to cut and run.  Angelus suspected that he was still in town, waiting to strike.  But from where, damn it?

Angelus growled at the walls.  The thought that Spike was touching what Angelus had rightfully taken was enough to drive him round the bend.  He was certain Spike would enjoy that knowledge.  The boy had always loved to irritate him.  Well, the search wasn’t over yet.  There were still plenty of places the boy could be hiding.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that the wayward vampires were beyond his reach, so were the humans Buffy had left behind.  None of them left their houses at night, and none stayed home alone.  They had all been staying with the Slayer’s mother, including Cordelia.  Ha.  He would have had fun with her if she came his way.  He would have enjoyed any of them.  Even the boy in the hospital was being protected every night.  Sweet little Willow had done some kind of spell on his room to repel demons.  Two of his minions had bounced off the barrier as though they’d been disinvited from a public place.  Who had guessed Willow was that strong?

Angelus grinned suddenly.  Of course, the advantage to all of them living inside the same warded house (oh yes, the Watcher had been very careful), was that all but Xander had been present when Joyce found his home movies.  He wished that he could have seen her face.  After all, it isn’t every day you watch your daughter kill a human.
____________________________

Buffy walked silently down the stair case toward the living room, with a quick glance back at the loft to see if Spike had followed.  She had moved slowly out of bed and watched closely to see if he moved.  A single twitch and she would have pretended to be asleep, which she normally would have been, since it was almost 7 a.m.  They always went to bed around 5 a.m.  It wasn’t as though she was breaking a rule by being out of bed, because really there weren’t any restrictions on where she could go or what she could do in this house, but she was still nervous.

She was looking for advice, and the only person she could bring herself to ask was Alexa.

Buffy got on well with all the minions, but she was closest to Alexa.  They’d got to talking after she went shopping for Buffy and found out they both liked chocolate, romance novels, and designer labels.  The tentative friendship had been cemented when Buffy asked Alexa not to call her ‘Mistress’, at least not when they were alone.  Alexa was older both as a human and as a vampire than Buffy.  She was obviously very smart, but she never talked down to Buffy.  It was kind of like having a friendly older sister.  Spike was wonderful, but every once in a while a girl needs girl talk.

It wasn’t just talking, either.  When Buffy wasn’t having lessons about vampires and Order Aurelius from Spike, who by the way made it all sound a lot more interesting than Giles ever had, she and Alexa sparred.  Buffy had found that she was significantly stronger and faster than she had been two weeks ago.  So much so that she accidentally broke one of Alexa’s hands the first day.  After that, Alexa stayed behind the brand new punching bag that had been set up in the downstairs living room/gym.  The other minions were less daring.  They were friendly, but fighting the Slayer, or at least the former Slayer, was too scary.

Buffy would love to be fighting Spike again.  None of her other opponents were ever as inventive as Spike.  He was kind of like the Wile E. Coyote of vampires, only his plans actually worked.  Sometimes.  But Spike just wasn’t that steady on his feet yet.  Buffy knew that he worked on his coordination whenever she was downstairs with the minions sparring, or in the main living room playing Nintendo, now that they had a T.V.  She’d come upstairs early once and he had been doing push-ups with his back toward her.  She had left quietly, so as not to disturb him.  He was proud.  He hated to be seen below par.

He came downstairs for blood when they woke up, and he and Buffy usually did her lessons on the main floor sofa.  Buffy had asked Alexa to buy her a notebook so that she could keep track of the symbols and history associated with vampire families.  She would take notes on the coffee table, while he stretched his legs out on the couch behind her.  Then they’d have a midnight snack with the minions and Morrie in the dining room.  They sometimes talked for hours.  Later she usually went downstairs to train.  He never came with her, probably because it made him self-conscious to watch her fight when he couldn’t.  He’d be taking a shower or in bed watching early-morning talk shows when she got upstairs in the morning.

Spike, she had found, was not the brash bad boy he pretended to be.  Sure, he was the Big Bad in public and in a fight, but in private, he was more…passive.  He liked to laugh and watch cheesy soap operas.  He was the only person she knew, other than her mother, who could stand to watch Passions.  Spike played a fair share of video games, too.  And he read.  She’d found a big suitcase full of books, mostly poetry, tucked under the bed once while reaching for a sock that she’d dropped.  They were old, worn, paper backs; obviously they’d been read many times.  Spike must take them with him everywhere he goes, she decided.

He ate human food, especially marshmallows.  The little kind you put in hot chocolate, only he put them in his blood too.  There was another odd thing.  He hadn’t asked the minions to bring him human blood, or for that matter, a human.  It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t eat a human given the chance, she was sure, but he wasn’t overcome with bloodlust because he hadn’t tasted a real artery recently.  Neither were the minions.  Did they just have that much control, or could they really live like this on a permanent basis?

Buffy didn’t know what all that meant for the salvation of vampires as a whole.  All she knew was that Spike was as tender and kind without a soul as Angelus had ever been with one.

And that was her problem.  No, not so much problem as…motivation.

Buffy had to admit that she’d always thought Spike was attractive.  He had that roguish image, a combination of black leather and danger, but at the same time, he’d come thousands of miles in a vague hope to cure a woman he’d been in love with for over a hundred years.  And of course physically he was nothing to sneer at.  He had broad shoulders and a thin waist, but not disproportionately so.  He was slim but muscular, just above average height.  She didn’t feel crushed when he hugged her, and lying next to him at night made her feel safe.

From the first she’d wondered what it would be like to do more than just lay next to him.   She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d had her first chance four days ago.  They’d gone to bed in the morning as usual.  It was easier to fall asleep during the day, though with all the curtains in the house, it didn’t hurt to be awake.  Buffy’d awoken around noon, but wasn’t immediately sure what had disturbed her sleep.  She was lying under the covers with her back toward Spike’s front.  She’d stretched languidly, and come into contact with something hard.  At waist level.

Buffy froze.  She turned over slowly.  Spike was sound asleep, breathing unconsciously as he usually did.  He didn’t even realize that he was aroused, so her first thought was relief that he didn’t mean anything by it.  It wasn’t like he could help his dreams, after all.  Buffy just smiled and watched him sleep.  He was so beautiful.

She hadn’t mentioned it to him; she just rolled over and went back to her own dreams.  She hadn’t been ready yet.  She’d still been kind of in shock from Angelus’s treatment.

Buffy stayed focused on Angelus for the next few nights. She tried to imagine what she could do to prepare for when she faced him again.  What she could do to fight him.  She had come to the very simple conclusion that it wasn’t the time to worry about it.  They didn’t have the strength to fight back, especially considering the number of minions he had.  They would have to run if he came their way.

So it was time to wait and learn.

She’d been doing that.  With Spike.  Buffy found that the more time she spent with Spike, the more she wanted to spend time with him.  She’d begun to notice how he cocked his head to the side when he was curious.  His smirk was now more appealing than irritating.  Accidentally seeing him without his shirt a couple times had been very pleasant.  And really it had been kind of flattering that he got hard lying next to her.

It happened again yesterday.  She woke after being poked in the back by his erection.  This time as she watched him, he let out a low, sensual growl.  It touched something in her.  She felt herself responding to the sound.  She knew it for its possessive, dominant nature.  It was the kind of sound a vampire made while having sex.  Angelus had done something similar at the Mansion, to remind her of what he could do to her if she disobeyed.  From Spike, it sounded more like an invitation than a threat.

She suddenly realized that she was ready to accept it.

She wasn’t really sure how to proceed.  Timidly, she had placed a hand on his shoulder.  He didn’t move.  She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.  After a few moments he began to respond.  His tongue reached out and played along her lips.  She opened her mouth, and it moved inside, exploring.  She ran her own tongue along its sides.  His tongue pushed up to her palette and began to prod the chevron shaped ridges that line a vampire’s mouth even out of game face.  Buffy shivered in pleasure at the sensation. 

Her movement must have been enough to awaken Spike, because he pulled back suddenly.  He stared at her in confusion.  “I woke you.”

Buffy nodded, but smiled.  “It’s okay.  I…”

“I’m sorry.  Go back to sleep, I won’t bother you.”  And with that he had turned his back to her, then gone back to sleep himself.

Needless to say, Buffy didn’t fall asleep.  Spike ignored Buffy’s attempts to revisit the issue when they got up that evening.  She spent all night trying to decide what she’d done wrong.  She knew she was inexperienced, but surely one kiss hadn’t turned him off that much.  Or, was it that he didn’t feel the same way about her?  Maybe he just thought of her as a childe.  Maybe he was dreaming about somebody else.  That was why she needed to speak with Alexa.
_______________________

Alexa sat with Buffy at the kitchen table, drinking a mug of pig’s blood and trying not to smile.  Buffy had related her story with such nervous sincerity.  “Why don’t you ask Master Spike about this?”

Buffy stared into the cooling red sludge in her own cup.  “I tried.  He didn’t want to talk about it.”  She sniffed slightly, afraid she might start crying.  “What did I do wrong?”

Alexa put her hand over one of Buffy’s.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.  It’s not that he isn’t interested in you; the Master misunderstood your advances.  You must realize Buffy, Master Spike is terrified of doing anything to influence you into intimacy.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Why?”

“Because of Angelus.  You were originally his childe, and the Master thinks that the only reason you were kissing him was that you thought it was your duty, not because you wanted to.”

“How do I convince him that I want him?”

“I’m not sure Buffy.”

Buffy stared at the table.  “You and Jacob are kinda together.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What do you do to…”  She felt embarrassed even thinking the question.

“Get him hot?”  Alexa watched Buffy’s mouth fall open in surprise.  After a moment she nodded sheepishly.  “Well I know what Jacob finds special.  You have to find something like that for the Master.”

Buffy sat in thought for a few minutes.  “Alexa, would you teach me how to do something?”
_______________________

Buffy made her way back into the bedroom.  Spike had rolled over onto his back, but he was still sound asleep.  Buffy was grateful.  She would rather start this without him watching.  She chewed her bottom lip nervously as she walked over and pulled the covers off him.  She climbed cautiously up onto the mattress and kneeled beside him.

She cast a clandestine glance at the crotch of his drawstring pants, feeling pleasantly naughty.  He wasn’t hard, so she figured that had to be the first step in seducing him.  He seemed to like being kissed, but she was afraid to wake him and give herself away too early.  She sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder.  She lingered, feeling the lean muscle underneath his skin.  And the bone.  He was still so very thin.  She was glad she’d stopped drinking from him.

Her hand moved over to his collar and down onto his chest.  She could feel every rib beneath his shirt.  Slowly, as if it had a mind of its own, her hand ghosted down across his flat stomach.  He stirred, leaning his head back a little and sighed.  Buffy felt a temptation to get another look under his shirt.  She lifted the edge with both hands, and pushed it up his body to where it bunched under his arms.

He had beautiful abs.  She traced the outline of his muscles with the tips of her fingers.  They tightened…oh, he was ticklish.  She smiled.  She would definitely have to use that to get her way sometime.  She leaned her head down and kissed his abdomen.  He let out a moan.  She kissed her way up his torso until she encountered a nipple.  After a quick glance at his sleeping face, she put her lips around it and sucked gently.  He let out that same low growl.

Buffy looked down his body and saw a bulge forming beneath the drawstring.  Ah ha.  She sucked a little firmer on the nipple, then moved over to his other and did the same.  When she bit down with her blunt teeth, he gave a loud moan and one of his arms reached up lazily as though trying to grab her.  She pulled back quickly and waited until the arm settled at his side again.

Deciding that she should start on the main event, Buffy crept lower down on the bed.  She straddled his legs, careful not to put any weight on them.  She untied the string, accidentally brushing against him through the thin fabric.  The bulge swelled noticeably, and he groaned.  She would have been blushing if her capillaries still worked.  She managed to undo the knot and loosen the waist.  She ran a finger inside the band.  She had known not to expect underwear.  She’d been through all of the walk-in closet’s racks and the dresser’s drawers and there was no sign of any.

Now here was a problem.  She needed to get the pants off, and he showed no signs of moving.  She bit her tongue, trying to think.  After a moment she placed a shaking hand above his poorly hidden erection and stroked it once through the fabric.  His hips lifted instantly from the bed, and she pulled his pants down his legs.  Getting them around his knees, then his ankles, was much simpler.

That was when Buffy took her first look at a man naked from the waist down.

Her first time with Angelus had been tender and lacking in visuals.  At the Mansion, she hadn’t cared to look, and even if she had, the angle the chains held her at wouldn’t have let her.  Her only real look at a penis was in a biology text book, and that just didn’t begin to give her the feelings she got now, looking at Spike’s.

Buffy did wear underwear and hers felt really wet. 

She supposed it was large.  She didn’t really have a history to go by.  If they all looked like that she wondered how they fit inside.  It was leaning over toward Spike’s stomach.  She tilted her head to get a better look.  Mentally she was reviewing what Alexa had told her.  There was the tip, so that must be the foreskin…

She pushed his knees apart slightly; he seemed to get the idea even though he was asleep, because they moved far enough out of the way for her to kneel in between.  Spike wasn’t a natural blonde.  She giggled, then clapped a hand over her mouth and looked up.  He hadn’t moved.  She was sure he wouldn’t have found it amusing for her to giggle while looking at his dick.

Okay, here goes.  She cupped her right hand around the shaft, barely touching it.  So smooth.  Alexa said it wouldn’t hurt to use some real pressure, so she tightened her hand around it in a firm grip.  Spike’s head shifted.  Another moan.  Slowly she moved her hand up and down the length, a little faster once she got a rhythm started.

“Buffy…” he whimpered in his sleep.  She felt very warm.  He was thinking about her!

Okay, now for the hard part.  Ugh, bad pun Buffy.  She leaned her head forward and kissed the tip, while her hand continued to stroke.  There was a little precum there.  She licked it off.  Salty.  She licked her lips, then opened her mouth and edged forward.  She closed her quivering lips around the tip and sucked.

Spike gasped and opened his eyes.
*****
Thanks to all the kind readers, please enjoy.  Thanks to Linda, my beta.


*****Chapter 13*****

He knew he shouldn’t have been dreaming about her.  He was supposed to be letting her adjust to life as a vampire without pressuring her into sex.  He’d screwed up royally yesterday by getting a hard on while dreaming.  Of course Buffy’d noticed.  He’d awoken to find her kissing him.  She looked so lost and uncertain.  Probably thought if she didn’t respond he’d start behaving like Angelus.

Fuck.  He didn’t want her trying to appease him.  He wanted her to be genuinely interested in being together.  Spike needed her to want him for himself, not because he was her Sire.

Maybe it was a bad idea to keep sleeping in the same bed with her.  He just figured she would like the comfort.  He knew that he did.  He hadn’t slept alone for more than a week at a time in the last hundred years.  Well, until recently.  And even if it was torture, lying next to her, surrounded by her scent and her warmth without touching her, he loved being near her.  He wasn’t surprised when he started having dreams involving her and him and no clothing.  He tried not to think about her when he closed his eyes every morning, but she was already inside his head.

Things had been going well.  She seemed happy and well-adjusted.  She was learning rapidly; she was training with Alexa, and she had stopped drinking from him of her own accord.  That showed independence, didn’t it?  She was healing.

And now she was sitting between his legs with her pretty pink lips around his cock.

At first he thought he was still dreaming.  The sensations were too amazing to be real.  Then he saw her eyes.  It was that same look of uncertainty she’d shown the other night.  He stifled the desire to start thrusting up into her mouth and spoke, more calmly than he would have thought possible.  “Buffy, stop.  I told you, you don’t have to do anything here that you don’t want to.  I’m sorry I startled you the other day.  It was rude and wrong, I didn’t mean to frighten you into something like this…FUCK!”

Buffy had paused her motions when he woke up, but now she’d heard enough.  She had no idea where the sudden confidence came from, but she embraced it.  With a roll of her eyes, she moved her lips farther down on his length and sucked hard.  Seeing as she now had all those little extra vampy muscles for sucking blood, that was pretty hard.  His back arched up off the bed and he started to pant.  He continued breathing heavily when he sank back down onto the mattress.

Spike looked at her dazedly.  The edge of fear he’d seen was gone.  She seemed almost irritated.  Had he misread her?  Maybe he’d just startled her when he woke up.  Could it be that she actually did want to do this? Oh, shit she was bobbing up and down on him.  Her hand was stroking the part she couldn’t get in her mouth.  His eyes rolled back and his hips thrust up unconsciously.  He would love to just lay there and let her go, but even his highly aroused mind knew that answers were needed.  “Buffy, please stop for a second…oh fuck…please, luv, talk to me.”

The only thing that worried Buffy was that if she paused she wouldn’t get to finish.  She needed to do this, to prove to both of them that she wanted him for real, not just because of some imagined sense of duty.  She removed him from her mouth and he groaned at the loss of contact.  She continued to slowly stroke him with her hand.

“Pet, why are you doing this?”

Buffy smiled.  “To convince you that I want to be with you.”

Spike swallowed nervously.  It wasn’t easy to think in a situation like this.  “How ex-exactly does that work?”

Buffy’s brow furrowed.  “Well, it’s just that this is something I’ve never done for anybody before.  Angelus didn’t ask me to, probably cause I would have bitten down as hard as I could and made sure he never had fun in bed again.”  She tightened her grip a bit more.

Spike sucked in a deep breath.  Her little fingers felt so damn warm.  He couldn’t move; he’d cum if he did.  “Still a little confused, kitten,” he rasped.

“It’s…I could please you as my Sire just by, you know, rolling over.  But this I’m doing this because I want to.  For both of us.”

Oh, hell, sweeter words had never been spoken.  He could have argued further.  It had only been a week; she needed more time.  But fuck all if he could string two more words together in protest when she was still pumping away at him.  She was right.  They needed this.  “Okay sweetheart,” he said weakly.  She smiled widely at him, like he’d just offered to buy her ice cream.  “Whatever you say.”

Buffy faltered when she looked back down at her current project.  It was pulsing in her hand, the foreskin tight against the sides, and more liquid had leaked out.  Spike was watching her now, his head propped up against his pillow.  He looked as fascinated with the process as she was.  Buffy stifled a few nervous butterflies and picked up where she left off.  She pushed her lips around him again and he sighed.  “That’s right luv,…oh Buffy…”  he murmured as she pulled him in a little farther.

Buffy moved her mouth up and down on him; even though she couldn’t take him very deep he didn’t seem to mind.  She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to do next.  Alexa had gone on and on about things you did with your tongue.  Who knew a blowjob was so complicated?  One thing she did remember: she pushed her tongue into the little slit at the tip and wriggled it around.  Spike’s fists clenched in the blankets and yet another moan squeezed its way out of him.  Buffy was liking Conscious Spike.  The noises and heavy breathing reassured her that she was doing something right.

Spike felt Buffy’s pace speed up slightly and began to tremble.  He was holding himself as still as possible so as not to scare her, but it had been so bloody long.  “Fuck yes pet, like that…oh…Buffy feels so wonderful.  Hot little mouth…bloody hell…”  He heard himself continuing the stream of random praise but was helpless to stop it.

Buffy had been using one hand to steady herself on the bed, but decided that maybe it was time for something else.  She raised the unoccupied hand to his sac and lifted it.  He squirmed.  Still sliding her mouth and her right hand up and down along his cock, she began to squeeze his balls gently too.  He seemed to like it best when she did it in rhythm with her sucking.  At least, he let out that growl she liked so much when she did the actions together.

Spike felt his muscles tensing and the fire building.  “Buffy you need to pull back…”  She shook her head around his cock and he grimaced, trying to hold off.  “I’m gonna cum…Buffy…gonna …AHHH!”  She gave a last strong suck and he came.

Even if she couldn’t remember the fancy stuff, Buffy knew what the finish was.  So when Spike tried to warn her off she ignored him.  She was going to do this part right.  She felt his balls clench under her left hand.  She braced herself and in a moment she felt the thick fluid shoot out into her mouth in spurts.  His hips thrust up wildly, forcing her to pull back, but she didn’t let him out of her mouth.

Spike collapsed back on the bed with his eyes closed.  Buffy swallowed.  She felt some of the cum leak out of her mouth, to drop down on the sheets.  She cradled his cock in her hand as he came down and licked the rest of the fluid off the sides.  It was softer now.  She let it slide out of her hand and looked up at her Sire, who lay still, breathing deeply.

Spike floated in a haze from the aftershocks of his orgasm.  He was aware of Buffy’s movements, then her stillness.  Something prompted him to open his eyes; she was being a bit too still.  He looked down the bed at her.  She was kneeling in the same position with that look of unease back on her face.  She was chewing her lip in that characteristic look of uncertainty.  His voice sounded gravelly when he spoke, “What’s wrong luv?”

Buffy rubbed her hands together nervously.  “Did…did I do okay?”

Spike smiled gently.  “Come up here Childe.”  Buffy leaned forward on her hands to scoot up the bed.  Spike grasped her shoulders and pulled her up beside him, then stretched her out on her back.  He propped himself up on his side, with one arm underneath her in a gentle embrace.  He kissed her, licking up the remains of his cum from her chin.  “You were wonderful Buffy.”

She sighed and snuggled up next to him.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do the deep-throating thing, it’s just that I still have trouble not breathing.  Alexa said it’ll get better as I practice-”

“Oh, so that’s how you learned this.”  She gave him a bashful smile.  It was adorable that she was so shy, considering what she’d just done.  “Buffy believe me when I say that I enjoyed your first blowjob very, very much.”  He caressed her hair and she closed her eyes.

Buffy breathed in the scent of Sire and sex.  It had been oppressive at the Mansion.  Here it was welcome.  She heard a little nagging voice that was still uncertain about what all this meant.  “So does this mean I’m your girlfriend?”

Spike laughed a deep rich laugh.  She could feel the vibration of it passing through him into her where their bodies touched.  “Yes luv, it does, because I certainly don’t want any of the other boys messin’ around with my girl.  I love you too much to let you go now.”

Buffy looked up at him, wide eyed and expectant.  “Really?  You love me?”

“Of course pet.  Liked you from the start.  Thought you were beautiful that first night in the Bronze, dancing with such grace.  Made every bloke in the place hard, you did.  And then you were even sexier fighting.”

She wrinkled her nose at him.  “You’re such a pig Spike.”

“Um-hmm.  So what were you thinking when you first saw me?  Something perfectly innocent, I’m sure.”

She toyed with the hem of the black shirt he still wore.  “Well, I might’ve thought you were kind of cute.”

He drew himself up as much as possible, which wasn’t easy lying down, and retorted, “I’m not cute.  I’m sexy.”

Buffy snickered.  “Yep.”  She rubbed circles against the fabric, not quite able to meet his eyes.  “You know, in the Mansion, the night I was supposed to spend with Dru…I asked to spend it with you instead.”

Spike’s eyes widened.  He clutched her a little tighter.  “I’ll bet Angelus loved that.”

She shook her head.  “He was furious.  But I didn’t care.  I figured he was going to kill me sooner or later, unless I escaped.  Why shouldn’t I take a chance to have one of my fantasies come true?”

Spike smirked and ran his tongue along the underside of his teeth.  “Ooo, the pious little slayer dreamed about having the Big Bad in her bed.”  Then seriously, “Is she happy now, that she’s got her wish?”

Buffy nodded.  “Very happy.”

Spike tilted his head forward to whisper in her ear.  “Confidentially luv, the Big Bad is very happy you’re here too.”

Buffy frowned.  “I don’t…love you yet Spike.  Not like that.  Not that I can’t, it’s just that I’m not there yet.”

Spike sighed.  “I know Buffy.  Been a long while since you had a reason to love someone, kitten.  I’m patient,” she raised her eyebrows in disbelief, “…when I’m waiting for something I really, truly want.  And your love is that to me.  I’d rather you be honest with me than say what you don’t mean.”

Buffy raised a hand and ran it through his hair.  It curled up under her fingers, soft in spite of the bleach.  “You’ve had enough of that.”

Spike averted his eyes.  His childe was very perceptive sometimes, much more so than she was given credit for.  He bowed his head down and kissed her again, his tongue seeking an invitation into her mouth.  She opened slowly and caressed his tongue with her own.  They explored each others mouths for a little while, the friction between tongues growing steadily more intense.

Buffy felt something prodding her in the stomach.  Something warm and wet washed through her.  She looked down to see that Spike was very much recovered from her little experiment earlier.  Experiment.  Yeesh, she sounded like Willow.

Spike smelled her arousal instantly.  He followed her gaze and smiled.  “So, did Alexa teach you anything else you want to try?”  She averted her gaze, smiling in embarrassment.  “That won’t do Buffy.  Vampires are never embarrassed in bed.”  She giggled, but looked back up at him.  “Now, what ideas are rolling around in that sweet little mind?”

“I didn’t ask her about anything else.  I wanted you to teach me.”

Spike was touched.  She remained so innocent, even after everything that had been done to her in that Mansion.  His anger with Angelus flared at that thought, but now was the time for tenderness, so he repressed it.  He put both arms around his childe and rolled over onto his back, so that she was pulled on top of him.

Buffy stared down at him in surprise and anticipation.  “I’ve never been the one on top before.”

“And you won’t be until you’re a lot less dressed.”  He grabbed her tank top by the hem and pulled it quickly over her head, though was careful not to hurt her ears.  He stared for several moments in appreciation of the firm little breasts that greeted his eyes.

Buffy shivered under the hungry glare he gave her chest, then gasped when he pulled her forward and sucked one nipple into his mouth.  He laved it with his tongue, making her moan.  She instinctively leaned forward into his mouth and he greedily took in more of her flesh.  She gave an undignified squawk of protest when he released her suddenly, but  relented when he latched on to her other breast.  She groaned loudly at the heat that was starting down below.  “Spike…”

He moved his hands to her breasts and began to pinch the nipples.  He caught her mouth and kissed her hard.  “Off with your clothes luv.”

Buffy barely heard him through the sensations but attempted to comply.  She grabbed her pajama bottoms and her underwear together, pushed herself off the bed far enough to get them down her waist then plopped back down onto Spike’s chest so hard that she forced the air out of his lungs.  He grabbed onto her remaining clothes, marveling out how quickly she was learning to respond, and pulled them off her legs and over his head.  She was tossed off balance, falling back over his legs.  He was rewarded with a wonderful view of her core.

He put a restraining hand over her thigh.  She propped herself up on her elbows, curious to see what he was doing.  Spike debated about whether or not to do oral, but thought it might be a bit too much exploration for one day.  Instead he used one long finger to prod her clit.  She moaned.  He circled her clit using that same finger, then slid his thumb slowly inside her.  Her response was overwhelming.  She squealed at the initial penetration.  She pushed herself into his hand and mewled with need, so he pinched her clit between two knuckles as he searched inside her with his thumb.  In a few moments she orgasmed.

Spike pumped his hand into her to ease her down.  She looked at him with glazed eyes and a smile.  He’d have to remember this angle; it worked wonders.  He paused briefly to suck some of her juice off his thumb, my she was a sweet little thing, then grasped her around the waist and lifted her into a sitting position.  She wobbled, boneless from her orgasm.  He waited until she was sensible, then lifted her up off his chest into a squat over his cock.  “Take me in your hand Buffy.  Show me where to go.”  He wanted her to have control here.

She eagerly grabbed hold of him and guided him toward her entrance.  She looked at him to see what came next.  “Just ease yourself down Buffy, however fast you want.”  She braced her knees on either side of his torso and slowly, inch by inch, took him in.  She watched his eyes roll back.  She knew he wanted to go faster but was resisting for her sake.  She watched the last bit of him disappear inside her, then sat a moment on his groin to get used to the stretching.

Tight.  So very tight and warm.  Those slayers had muscles everywhere.  She probably would have made a human explode, just from the pressure she could put on his cock.  Spike waited as long as he could.  “Are you ready Buffy?”  She nodded.  “Push yourself up a bit, but not far enough for me to slide out.”  She complied with a groan.  “Now back down.

She went slowly at first, cautious in this new position.  It was difficult to remember that she was the one who had to be moving.  But soon she felt the pressure inside her growing.  She needed to go faster.  Using her legs as leverage she bounced up and down on him in the most consistent rhythm she could manage.  Spike encouraged her.  “That’s it love.  Gonna start thrusting up to meet you now, just keep going.”

He thrust in time with her and she began to whine and whimper.  She made such delightful little sounds that he knew he’d never grow tired of causing.  He gripped her by the hips to steady her.  He could feel the muscles in her little ass clenching so he began to kneed them.  She let out a genuine growl of approval, befitting the vampire she was becoming more than the little girl she had been.  He saw that her eyes were beginning to glow amber.  “Rock forward onto me luv, when you come down.  That’s it, give your clit some attention.”

She grabbed his shoulders and held on for support, digging her nails in deep enough to draw blood.  She was close, she could feel it.  She needed something more.  “Spiiiiike…bite me…”  She sensed her fangs coming forward of their own accord, itching to sink into her Sire’s neck.

Spike shifted without thought.  As their hips impacted he struck her neck, piercing her carotid artery over her siring scar.  Rich, thick blood laced with slayer essence flowed into his mouth.  She screamed and her internal muscles clenched around him.  She bit convulsively at his neck, relishing the taste when she struck blood.  He roared into her neck as he came, bucking up into her wildly.

They collapsed back on the bed, Buffy draped over Spike, unable to move.  Their panting slowed, and she felt Spike lick the wound on her neck until it closed.  She forced her tongue, possibly the only part of her body that wasn’t numb, out of her mouth to close her bite.

Just before she fell asleep, Buffy heard Spike whisper in her ear, “Thus endeth the lesson, luv.”
*****
Yes, I know, I was mean last chapter.  But I couldn’t find anywhere else to stop, and I had homework.  Thanks for not hating me too much.

Thanks for reading.  Thanks Linda.
*****Chapter 14*****

Alexa was in a fantastic mood.  She hadn’t gotten much sleep this morning after Buffy left the dining room to try her new trick.  Alexa had been worried that the Master would not appreciate her interference in his business with his Childe.  Master Spike could be temperamental, and even though he obviously loved the fledgling, he might accidentally hurt her feelings.  It required a lot of courage for a girl to give her first blow-job, so he’d probably scar Buffy more deeply by rejection than by allowing her to continue.  Alexa smiled.  Judging by the sounds that made their way to the ground floor, Buffy’s efforts had been well received.  Not that she’d been eavesdropping.  It wasn’t her fault that the Master and Mistress made such…enthusiastic sounds.

When Alexa got back to her room, she’d woken Jacob for a little fun of their own in celebration of the new couple.  Jacob cautioned her that if the Master found out what assistance she rendered, he might disapprove.  Alexa doubted the Master would object to her slight assistance in causing him pleasure, but she had the perfect defense if he did.  After all, he did tell Buffy that she could ask the minions anything.

Alexa stood in the kitchen drinking a fresh mug of blood with Jacob while she mused.  Suddenly they heard a rattle of keys at the front door.  They walked to the living room, arriving in time to see their half-B’aste ally locking the door behind him.  Morrie dropped the bag containing his ceremonial robes by the sofa and sank down on one of the cushions.  He opened his eyes when he heard movement off to the side.  Alexa and Jacob had come to investigate his less than stealthy entrance.

Alexa sat down beside him on the sofa, and Jacob took the chair opposite them.  Alexa took in Morrie’s appearance.  He smelled of dozens of different demons, alcohol, and veal.  His right tennis shoe was untied and his shirt was on backwards, though she didn’t think he cared.  He looked like he was about to slide off the sofa from exhaustion.  “So I take it you had fun at the feast?”

Morrie laughed and nodded.  The Rites of Jeura was a twice-yearly ceremony held at Bale-ste Nara Kier’s court that celebrated the successes of the B’aste for the last six months.  In other words, it was a chance for everybody and their business partners to eat too much and get drunk together.  It was a seven-hour blast that Morrie thoroughly enjoyed, but as the Matriarch’s kit, he had duties to perform.  “Oh, you know.  There was the usual hand-shaking.  Talking with Mother’s friends about how much I’ve grown, how they knew me when I was only knee-high to a Labdmar, and yada, yada, yada.

“Then there was the dance.  We spent four hours alone on traditional dances.  And I had to dance with every single eligible bachelorette - multiple times - because I’m the last eligible kit of the Matriarch.”

Jacob snorted.  “Oh, yes, lovely demons throwing themselves at you.  I feel your pain.”  Alexa shot him a dark look.  “Not that I would want that to happen to me because I’m perfectly happy with my own thoroughly gorgeous love.”  She smiled in approval at his save.

Alexa turned back to Morrie.  “Any discussion of Master Spike and Mistress Buffy?”

“Plenty.  Everyone asked about them.  Angelus has been searching for his AWOL childer, and that has everybody interested in all the juicy details of their escape, their life together, and their future plans.  And they all know I’m in Master Spike’s employ.  Are they up yet?  I have some news they need to hear.”  Morrie rubbed his eyes, willing them to stay open.

Alexa grinned.  “I’ll go check, but it shouldn’t be much longer.  They were up a little later than usual.  Doing some deep thinking, if you get my meaning.”

Morrie smirked.  “Finally.  They’ve been mooning at each other all week.”
_______________________________

Buffy sighed contentedly.  It was good to wake up with the person you fell asleep with.  Big confidence booster.  She nuzzled the firm chest that pillowed her head, eliciting a soft purr from the vampire beneath her.  She smiled.  Vampire purring was not something mentioned in Giles’ books.  It pleased her that she could make Spike do something as innocent and playful as purr.  And it was damn sexy.

She sat up slightly.  She was still straddling his hips.  Hmm.  Now whatever could they do this morning…  Buffy ran her hands over his hips in light strokes, then leaned her head down to kiss his collar.  Spike moaned and opened his eyes.  Buffy smiled widely.  “Good morning.”

Spike grinned.  “Good morning Goldilocks.”  He pulled himself into a sitting position against the bed frame with Buffy in his lap.  He put his hands on her shoulders and brought her forward for a tender kiss.  She kissed back with ardor and wriggled her hips against his.  He let out a groan.  “Better stop that.”

Buffy pouted at him.  “Why?  I mean, not real experienced here, but I think you kinda like this.”  She put a hand between her legs and prodded the hardening flesh beneath her.

Spike growled softly.  He grabbed her searching hand and pulled it up to rest on his shoulder.  “’Cause you’re gonna make a mess and I’d be the only one that had fun.”

“But I wanna play.”  She began to nibble at his neck around the bite she’d placed there the night before.  Spike licked his lips and began to kiss her cheek while she continued at his neck.

There was a knock at the door.  Buffy stilled.  She looked to her Sire who grimaced.  “Who is it?”

“Alexa, Master,” a disembodied voice replied.

Spike shifted Buffy off his lap and onto the bed beside him.  She put her head on his shoulder while one of her hands began to explore his chest.  “What’s wrong Alexa?”

“Morrie has news of Angelus that he feels you should hear.”

Spike felt Buffy stiffen at the sound of that name.  He rubbed her arm to reassure her.  “Okay, we’ll be down in about twenty minutes.”

“Yes, Master.”  Buffy and Spike heard the retreating footsteps of the minion.

Buffy frowned.  “He’s always there to ruin things.”

Spike looked at his anxious childe.  He caught her chin and held it so that she would look him in the eyes.  “He won’t be after we dust him.”
__________________________________________

Buffy found herself downstairs in the dining room an hour later, wishing that she could just restart the day.  Maybe if she could wake up again in Spike’s arms, she wouldn’t feel so nervous about what was coming next.

After Alexa left, they’d gotten out of bed for a quick shower together.  Not the kind of shower you’re supposed to be able to have with your boyfriend, though.  Just a quick scrub to get the sex smell off.  Buffy figured the minions already knew what went on last night, but she didn’t want to advertise it and neither did Spike.  It was something special and private between the two of them, in defiance of what they escaped when they left the Mansion.  To Buffy, it was a promise of what would be theirs in the future, if they succeeded.  When they succeeded.

Buffy saw that the minions were assembled when they made it down to the table.  Mugs of blood were waiting for her and Spike.  They drank while listening to Morrie detail Angelus’s search for them during the past few days.  He’d been looking in trashy places that were typical hideouts for vampires.  He must not have counted on her Sire finding a house of his own.  But she knew he’d figure it out soon.  Then he’d find listings for houses bought recently in Sunnydale.  He’d find them.  He’d kill her Sire and burn down her home.

Buffy felt a surge of anger, not fear as she would have expected.  She was furious at the thought that he might try to capture her again, but she wasn’t afraid of what he’d do.  There was no pain Angelus could cause her that she hadn’t already felt.  He’d killed her, ripping Buffy away from her family and loved ones as surely as if he’d killed them instead.  He had tortured her and tormented her Sire.  He’d forced her to kill.  And now he was going to kill her?  Ha.  The Angel of Death was slipping.

She felt no guilt about the little boy.  He was going to die.  His death was ordered the minute he was captured.  She had just made it faster than it would have been if another vampire had done it.

“We need to find him and dust him before he finds us.  This needs to end.”  Buffy was glad that she sounded as determined as she was.  She saw Spike looking at her.  He looked proud.  She gave him a little half smile, which he returned.

Spike nodded, glad that she was involving herself.  There was another little bit of that independence he relished.  She was becoming more and more like the slayer he knew she could be.  “You’re right kitten.  But our problem is numbers.  He won’t ever be on his own, and we don’t have enough people to take on him and his minions.”

Morrie looked around the table at the assembled demons.  “The B’aste as a whole aren’t sufficiently trained to fight.  The rest of the demons in this town are afraid of opposing him.  Many of them support Master Spike in theory, but they aren’t willing to risk their necks against a monster like Angelus.”

Buffy swallowed nervously.  “Then we need people who are willing.  People who hate him as much as we do.”  She knew exactly where to find them.
____________________________________

Rupert Giles stared out the window as he drank his tea.  He found himself doing it often.  He was waiting for something he couldn’t describe.  This week had passed quickly and without incident.  He knew that Angelus’s spies watched them, but he kept the children and Joyce inside the house and together.  There had been no attacks.  And still he knew that this was the calm before the storm.  It couldn’t end here. 

They all knew it.  Joyce went to the gallery every day and continued to practice with her crossbow every night.  Cordelia, Willow, and Oz went to school and to visit Xander in the hospital.  They came back to the Summers’ house and did their homework.  At the same time, they kept the weapons clean and sharp.

Even Xander seemed to sense something.  He’d awoken three days ago surrounded by his friends and parents.  He’d smiled and tried to keep everyone’s spirits high.  Imagine, a boy burned from head to knee still having the presence of mind to joke with his loved ones.  Courageous, without a doubt.  He waved aside tears, the apologies of the Scoobies, and their self-recriminations.  Ripper and Xander both knew that to some extent each of the other children and Joyce felt responsible for what had happened, because they’d all had a hand in the raid.

Foolishness of course.  Giles had never apologized and Xander wouldn’t have accepted it if he had.  They had all known the risks.  Xander, for one, had no regrets except that he wouldn’t get a chance to be in the final battle against Angelus.

Angelus.  He had sent them a little message that fateful night; one which fortunately only Joyce and he had seen.  Joyce had found it the next evening, wedged next to the front door.  A video tape, starring Buffy.  It was a short clip, probably copied from a longer original of which Angelus was immensely proud.  It opened with the former slayer cradling a small child in her lap.  She then lifted him up and broke his neck.  The clip ended as the crowd of vampires around her applauded.

Giles had resigned himself when Buffy first disappeared to the possibility of having to kill her.  It seemed a more likely necessity now, having witnessed her embracing her vampire nature in spite of her soul.

His heart tried to tell him about extenuating circumstances.  The shortness of the film itself suggested that what came before on the tape would have compromised the brutality of the images.  Angelus no doubt forced the scenario on her.

But did it really matter?  A slayer’s one and only job was to protect the innocent.  To stand between them and the creatures of the night.  If Buffy had still possessed the same morals she had on the night she left for that last patrol, she would never have killed that child.  If he was marked to die, it could have been at someone else’s hand.  Hers would have remained clean.

The telephone rang.  He reached over and answered it.  “Summers residence.”

Buffy hesitated a moment, standing beside the pay phone.  Spike put a supporting hand on her shoulder.  She took a deep breath.  This was her idea, she’d see it through.  “Hello Giles.”

Giles dropped his tea.  The china shattered, the shards flying everywhere.
*****
Thanks for reading.  I know this is a short transitional chapter, but I’m about to leave town for the week and I don’t have the time to write more.  The finish is only four or five chapters away.  Thanks for sticking with me!  More next week.  Thanks to Linda, my beta.

 Descriptive torture warnings

*****Chapter 15*****

Joyce looked around the mall.  The last time she could remember being here had been with Buffy.  They’d been shopping and Buffy was supposed to pick up a dress for Joyce before the shop closed.  She hadn’t done it.  Joyce recalled being furious at the time.  She’d mentioned the incident to Rupert on the drive here.  He said that Buffy’d been fighting a vampire in the mall parking garage instead of running the errand.  Irony seemed to haunt them these days; now, they were going to the mall to meet her daughter the vampire.

Joyce had been pouring herself a cup of tea when she heard Rupert’s glass shatter in the living room.  She rushed in from the kitchen to see the watcher looking pale and clutching the arm of the sofa beside him for support.  He’d stared at her with steely eyes, then murmured an agreement into the phone.  Joyce couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but she felt her heart skip a beat when Rupert asked the person on the end of the line, “Would you like your mother to come with me?”

It was Buffy.  Her Buffy had finally contacted them.  She was alive…no, not alive.  As alive as a vampire can be.  But that had to mean something.  Did Buffy need them to come rescue her?  No.  Was she coming to them?  No.  She wanted them to meet her on neutral ground to discuss fighting Angelus.  Rupert had hung up the phone shortly afterwards.  Buffy hadn’t asked to speak with her mother.

After nearly two weeks without a sight of her little girl, Joyce found herself at a loss.  She had no idea what she could possibly say to Buffy.  Her daughter had been tortured for days by what was arguably the most evil demon ever to exist alongside humans.  Then she’d escaped with William the Bloody, the grandchilde of Angelus.  She’d been hiding with him for a week, heaven only knew where and why. 

Dr. Spock had never envisioned this scenario when writing instructional material for parents.

Had Buffy been kidnapped from her kidnapper?  If she was a prisoner, was this some horrible trap?  If so, why meet at the mall, where hundreds of people were present to witness this reunion, and armed security personnel prevented anyone from entering with visible weapons?  Hundreds of questions whirled around inside Joyce.  She desperately needed answers and at the same time all she wanted was one more chance to hold her baby.  To say ‘I love you.’

Was Buffy still her daughter?  Or was it like the Watchers’ Diaries said?  A demon was wearing Buffy’s face, soul or no.

Joyce and Rupert were walking toward the food court.  That was where they had been told to wait.  They reached the sea of little white tables and chairs.  Rupert pulled a chair out for her automatically and she sat down.  She glanced at Buffy’s Watcher.  He remained stiff and alert, even when he sat down beside her.  Joyce could tell that Rupert did not believe for a moment that this was an above board meeting.  He believed that Buffy had been tainted in her turning, even though she had a soul.  It was his only explanation for that video Angelus had sent them.

It had been addressed to Joyce Summers.  Giles brought it in while the children were at the hospital visiting Xander.  After pulling the tape from the package she put it immediately into the VCR.  She’d shrieked when Buffy appeared on screen.  Buffy in torn clothing and covered in blood.  She could hear Angelus in the background for a fraction of a second.  Then Buffy shifted.  She was holding a small boy.  As Joyce watched, Buffy put a hand on either side of his head and twisted it sharply.

They hadn’t told the children.  They were still assuming they’d never see Buffy again; Xander, Willow, Oz, and Cordelia didn’t need to remember Buffy like that.  Joyce wished she could have been spared the sight too.  But she didn’t need an explanation to that.  It was too surreal to really touch her.  Just one of the many things that had happened because of Angelus.  Whatever had happened, it wasn’t her daughter’s fault.

Joyce tapped her fingers nervously on the table.  The children were at home waiting as patiently as possible.  If this was indeed a trap, Joyce and Rupert didn’t want them involved.  Mother and Watcher had come alone, armed with a few stakes and their fears.  Suddenly she saw Rupert stiffen out of the corner of her eye.  She slowly turned to look in the direction he faced.

She was thinner than Joyce remembered.  A little paler.  A little aged around the eyes.  She was clean and well-dressed; there was no reminder of the girl in that video.  Beside her walked Spike.  If Buffy was thin, he was gaunt.  But he still exuded that confidence Joyce remembered from the Parent/Teacher Night.  The two vampires were holding hands, Joyce noticed.  Or, really, Buffy was clutching his hand so tightly that what blood there was in it normally had been forced out, leaving it even paler than the rest of his skin.

They had stopped walking.  Spike and Buffy were standing about five feet away.  Five feet.  That’s all the space that separated Joyce from her daughter.  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Buffy’s face.  She felt a few tears slide out of her eyes; Buffy’s green eyes were also moist.  She heard Buffy mumble a quiet word.  “Mommy?”

Joyce smiled as more tears escaped.  “Yes sweety.”  In an instant her arms were filled with her baby.  Joyce was almost knocked over by the force with which Buffy leaped into her embrace.  The two women cried without concern for anything else.  Joyce murmured comforting words into Buffy’s ears.  “It’s okay baby.  Mommy’s got you.  Oh, I missed you so much sweetheart…”
_____________________________________

Spike had been nervous about meeting them in the mall.  He felt exposed here, but it was the best option he could think of for the conference.  They could run if there was trouble and the minions were stationed clandestinely around the food court, but that didn’t lessen his trepidation.  Part of the worry was over Buffy’s first exposure to so many hearts all beating in the same place.  She was still a fledgling vampire, souled or not, and the call of that much blood was powerful.  They’d walked around together for the last hour so that she could get used to the overwhelming sensations of sight and sound that a mall affords a vampire.

The Watcher was his biggest worry.  He had been willing to kill Buffy before rather than let her live a prisoner; would he still consider her a prisoner?  Did it matter?  Weren’t all vampires equally worthy of death?

He could sense Buffy’s growing nervousness as the time for the meeting drew near.  She was petrified by the idea that they would reject her.  Or that even if they still loved her, they would try to take her away from her Sire.  Her boyfriend, as she so innocently put it.  Spike hadn’t addressed her fears directly.  He couldn’t pretend they weren’t real possibilities.  All he could do was stand beside her.  Nothing would keep him from doing that.

He’d led her to the food court in silence when the time came.  He’d seen the Watcher and Buffy’s mum from a distance.  Mrs. Summers seemed lost in her own thoughts while the Watcher searched for danger.  Spike looked for Alexa, who had positioned herself by the Chinese restaurant.  She gave him a thumbs-up; good, the humans were alone.  They approached slowly, giving the Watcher plenty of time to spot them.  Spike saw the calculating cool in his face.  He was suspicious.

Spike had warned Buffy to stay nearby, in case of trouble.  She’d looked at him quizzically, but nodded.  She trusted her Sire.  But then she’d seen her mum and Spike felt her control slide.  She was still so much a little girl that needed her mother.  Buffy darted forward with the full use of her vampiric speed, nearly tackling the poor woman.  They both began to sob and clutch at each other.

When Buffy leapt for her mum, Spike saw the Watcher flinch as his hand reached inside his coat.  Spike tensed, prepared to kill the man if he pulled the stake Spike suspected was hidden beneath the tweed.  The Watcher seemed to realize that Buffy wasn’t hurting her mum and let his hand reemerge empty from his inside pocket.  As if he sensed Spike’s scrutiny, the man turned his head to face the vampire.  His eyes were cold and intense.  Spike returned his stare with all the predatory force he could put into a gaze.  The Watcher looked away, but Spike was fairly certain he’d gotten the message.  Buffy was not to be harmed.

Buffy and Joyce remained oblivious to the silent communication between Giles and Spike.  After a little while Buffy raised her head to look at her mother.   She sniffled, “I’m sorry Mommy.”

“For what baby?  You haven’t done anything wrong.”  Joyce cupped the side of Buffy’s face, then stroked her hair as she had when Buffy was little.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was the Slayer.  I’m sorry I didn’t come home-”  Fresh tears burst out.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay.  It’s not like you never tried.  I’m sorry I made things so hard for you…”

Spike listened as his childe resolved things with her mother.  He was glad Mrs. Summers was so understanding.  She was a strong woman though and fiercely protective of her daughter.  She reminded him a little of his own mum.  She could help them win over the Watcher if she believed them.  Lost in his thoughts, Spike was startled to hear Buffy call his name.  He turned to see her standing beside her mother, both of them looking his direction.  Buffy looked to her mother and said, “Mom this is Spike.  He’s my Sire.”

Spike stood up a little straighter and extended his hand warily.  “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Summers.”

Joyce stared at the vampire, puzzled.  He seemed nice enough, in spite of the bad boy image.  Not exactly the kind of man, er, vampire that a mother wanted her daughter to bring home, but she knew instinctively that he wasn’t going to harm Buffy.  Something about the way he always kept one eye trained on her.  He was almost as protective of Buffy as Joyce was.  She took his hand and they shared a firm handshake. 

“Nice to see you again Spike.  Of course, I didn’t get a very good look at you when I hit you with that axe.” He grinned sheepishly and looked at the ground.  A bashful vampire.  How odd.  “And Spike?”  He raised his head to meet her eyes.  “I still have an axe.”  His smile faded slightly to a bemused grin.  He gave a nod of understanding.

“How is it that you are Buffy’s Sire?”  Giles spoke for the first time.  “I was certain that Angelus turned her.”

Joyce saw Buffy frown.  Her daughter hesitantly moved away from her to stand closer to Spike.  Spike was considerably shorter than Rupert, but he showed no signs of being intimidated by either the Watcher’s height or manner.  He spoke calmly.  “He did turn her.  But he then rescinded his claim as her sire.  I adopted the position.”

“I’ve not heard of that particular aspect of the Sire/Childe relationship before.  Is it common for a sire to…”

“Orphan a childe?  No.  It’s sadistic.  A childe needs its sire.  It has few instincts or survival skills as a fledgling.  Combine that with the inherent need for the sire’s approval and the child is completely dependent on its sire.  Abandoned childer usually dust themselves rather than go on without a sire.”

“Ah, so you saved Buffy from this terrible fate out of the evilness of your heart?”

Spike sighed.  “She’s been through enough.  I’ve got to much respect for her to let my best enemy go out like that.  Nobody deserves to be cast out by that bastard.”

Giles snorted.  “Forgive me, but I find it difficult to place William the Bloody’s motives along such altruistic lines.  Surely you considered the benefits of having a former slayer as your childe.  She’s a powerful weapon to use against your enemies.  And then she’s not bad looking, either, now that Drusilla’s dust.”

Buffy saw Spike’s jaw tick during Giles’s speech despite his apparent calm.  She could sense his anger at Angelus for abandoning her and his rage at Giles for questioning Spike’s motives.  She wasn’t exactly happy herself.  She placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.  It was too early to get this angry.  They still hadn’t talked about teaming up against Angelus.  He turned to stare at her, his blue eyes stormy and threatening to turn gold.  She kept her hand there until she felt his demon face ease back farther below the surface.  She walked slowly toward Giles, then waited for him to look at her.  His cold eyes stared into hers.

Then she slapped him.

Not as hard as she could have.  Not hard enough to break bones.  But more than hard enough to get his attention.  His glasses were knocked loose, falling to the floor.  He stared back at her in shock.  Buffy put her resolve face firmly forward.  “Hello Giles.  You’re my Watcher and I love you.  But you have no right to speak to me or my sire like that.”  She faltered.  “I…I’m sorry I hit you.”  Buffy backed away from the stunned Watcher, coming to rest beside her shocked sire.

Joyce watched the exchange angrily.  She had never seen Rupert so blatantly judgmental.  But then she did sometimes forget that he was a watcher.  His views on vampires were taught in an academy.  She was stumbling through based on a few books and personal experience.  Rupert automatically assumed deception on the part of a vampire because he couldn’t allow himself to believe the subtle signs that continually passed between Spike and Buffy.

What he said about the rights of a sire over his childe was true in reference to sex.  God, how she wanted to avoid thinking about her daughter in that way.  But what Spike and Buffy had didn’t seem to a novice like her to be strictly a Sire/Childe relationship.  Spike seemed to be almost in awe of Buffy for the way she had just stood up for them.  And Buffy was being very possessive of Spike.  It had all the earmarks of a genuine romance.  Joyce’s romantic sensibility warred with her fears.  Buffy was well on her way to being an adult and her mother felt a few more tears threaten to escape at that thought.

“Maybe we should sit down and talk quietly for a while.  Give all our tempers time to cool.”  Joyce kept her voice kind and conciliatory, but firm.  “Rupert, come sit by me.  Buffy, Spike, please sit down.”  She gestured to the two chairs on the other side of the spindly table.

“Thanks Mrs. Summers.”  Spike went to the opposite side of the table and pulled Buffy’s chair out for her.  She smiled at him nervously and sat down.  Spike quickly took the seat beside her.  They watched Giles bend down and pick up his glasses before sitting.  He removed a cloth from his pocket and began to polish them.

She smiled at the vampire.  “You can call me Joyce, Spike.  Now.  Why did the two of you invite us here?”

Spike waited a few moments to see if Buffy wanted to answer, but she remained silent.  She still seemed a little shocked by the fact that she had slapped her Watcher.  Not that the git didn’t deserve it.  “We want to talk to you about pooling forces against Angelus.  On our own we don’t have a chance of defeating him, but together we can work out something.”

“Isn’t that diplomatic of you?”  Giles snarked.

Spike’s eyes narrowed.  “I’ve had about enough out of you Watcher.  We haven’t done anything to you.”

“You’ve tried to kill us.”  Ripper replied, anger coloring his voice again.

Spike nodded, but continued to scowl at the man across from him.  “In the past.  Listen, I don’t care if you like me or believe me.  But bloody hell, if you don’t trust me you ought to at least trust your slayer.”

“How can I after her behavior today and seeing that video…”  He trailed off.

Buffy shivered.  “What video?” She asked timidly.  And then he told her.  She listened as her watcher detailed the finding and watching of Angelus’s little present.  Buffy watched her mother and her Watcher during the retelling.  She was glad her friends didn’t know about it; they would have enough trouble looking at her as it was.  Her mom was sad but seemed sympathetic.  Giles was worse.  Much, much, worse.  She could feel his disappointment.  She could feel his contempt.  She could feel his distaste.  And it made her angry.

Spike held onto the edge of the table in front of him.  He concentrated on keeping it in front of him.  Not throwing it out of the way to get to that snide, superior bastard sitting in front of him.  Not leaping up to go hunt down Angelus.  He focused on his childe.  She was deceptively quiet.  He could smell her fury at the way the man spoke to her.  If either of them was going to burst, it was going to be her.  Her voice did not shake as she spoke.  “So, Giles, do you want to hear my side of that story?”

“Oh I can guess.  Angelus was going to kill the boy anyway, so it didn’t really matter.  It probably saved the both of you some pain.”  Giles leaned across the table and spoke sincerely, trying to remember that she’d been through so much conflict in the past weeks.  “But that doesn’t mean it was the responsible and correct thing to do, Buffy.  You didn’t have to give in like that.  It may have seemed like it at the time, but an objective judge-”

Buffy rocketed to her feet and planned her hands on the table in front of her.  “Objective judge?  Is that you Giles?  You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.  You weren’t there.  You didn’t get chained to a wall for a day in ripped clothing so that minions could leer and spit at you.  You weren’t there when my first sire offered to forgive me for being rebellious if I would kill for him.  You didn’t watch him rape and torture the people that came before that little boy.

“Do you want to know what happen to the kid that died before him?  He was about seven.  After he molested him until he bled, Angelus stripped off all his clothes.  Then he ripped off the kid’s toes, one at a time.  Then his fingers.  Then his feet at the ankles, then his hands at the wrist.  And on and on until finally he dug his fingers in around that seven-year-old kid’s spine and ripped it in half.

“Responsible.  You’re right, I didn’t want to be responsible.  Not for seeing the same thing happen to the rest of those children.  I’m glad I did something that you find so irresponsible and wrong.  I killed him and I’d do it again.  Who are you to judge Giles?  You helped kill one of your best friends when you were a kid so that you could get off magic!   You have no right to speak to me like that.”

Buffy jumped when she felt Spike’s hand on her shoulder.  He was standing beside her and pulled her into a loose hug.  She accepted it but didn’t reciprocate, too worked up to be tender.  But she was grateful.  After a few moments she slid back down into her seat.

Spike looked at the stunned Watcher.  Buffy had certainly give him something to chew on.  Spike didn’t envy him the tongue lashing he was going to get from Joyce on the ride home.  His childe’s mum looked ready to explode at the man for his audacity.  Hell, if Angelus were here he was pretty sure she’d do the dismemberment trick on him barehanded.  “Maybe we should call it an evening.  Let things settle a bit.”  He looked to Joyce for confirmation.

Joyce shook her head.  “We need to talk about Angelus.  We’ve been a bit too distracted.”  She shot a dark look at Giles.  “But maybe you’re right Spike: we do need a break.  And I think all of us should be involved in this discussion.  Why don’t you two come to the house tonight, around nine, and we’ll talk.  It’ll give me time to get everyone ready.”

Spike looked at Buffy for confirmation.  She nodded.  “We’ll see you then.  Thank you Joyce.”

Joyce walked around the table to share a last kiss and hug with Buffy.  She then turned to the Watcher across the table.  “Rupert.  Let’s go.”

Giles stood and followed Mrs. Summers after one last glance at the blonde couple by the table.  He didn’t notice the young woman with brown hair walking toward him until she collided with him.  He was thrown off balance and ran into a kiosk of cell phones.  She looked at him unapologetically and said with a cheeky voice, “I’m sorry.”  She then walked toward the food court behind him.  Giles straightened his jacket and continued walking.

Spike snickered as Alexa approached.  She’d almost knocked the old man to the floor.  He saw the other minions closing in as well.  “I take it you heard the conversation.”

“The entire food court heard the conversation, Master.  Several people at tables near you left in fright after it started.”  A seething Alexa came to stand beside their table.  Jacob, Chris, and Ryan nodded in agreement with her statement.

Spike sat down again and turned his chair to face Buffy.  She was trembling as her adrenaline waned.  He clasped her hands in his own and massaged the backs of them with his thumbs.  He could hear the repressed tears in her voice when she spoke.  “He hates me.  Mom still loves me but Giles can’t stand to look at me.”

Spike sighed and shook his head.  “He doesn’t hate you pet.  He’s just confused.  He still loves you.  He wouldn’t have been so mad about what Angelus made you do if he didn’t.”

She sniffed.  “You really think so?”

“Yes.”  Spike looked at his poor, drained girl.  She seemed to have wilted in the last few minutes.  This day had been hard for her, but he couldn’t have been more proud of her strength.  He told her as much.  She smiled.  Then he pulled her up and put an arm around her to lead her to the exit.  He hoped she could get a little sleep before tonight’s meeting.
*****
Hello again.  Thank you for all the kind reviews of last chapter, and thank you for continuing to read.  Just a few more chapters left to go.  Thanks Linda.

*****Chapter 16*****

Willow jumped when she heard front door slam.  She’d been dozing against Oz on the sofa.  She was really tired lately; well, ever since she went all bitca on the vampires at the Mansion.  The nosebleeds had stopped, so that was a plus, but she was still incredibly nervous about what she’d done.  She was just Willow.  Willow the nerd.  Willow the mousy little geek.  Where had all of that come from?

She’d practiced magic for a while now, but nothing she’d done had ever come close to that.  Magic meant concentrating really hard and practicing the words over and over so they sounded right, then still managing to fail or mess up anyway.  For the very first time Willow had just known what to do.  The words came pouring out on instinct.  It wasn’t like she lost control of her body; she’d read that possessed people felt that way.  It was more like a wall dissolved in the back of her mind.  Part of her that was hidden came out and she used that piece of her mind to cast the spell. 

Which was still high on the spookiness meter.

Willow tried explaining the idea to Giles.  He said she had crossed her threshold and would see her magical abilities grow from here on out.  She was feeling the source of her magic.  It was her connection to the collective consciousness and the magic sink of the world.  Giles believed she had an unusually strong connection, so if she was careful not to let the magic overwhelm her, she could do powerful things some day.

Oz had been her rock, as usual.  But where he normally just gave her a hug or held her hand, this time he’d talked to her about being a werewolf.  Willow had always figured that it was just split personalities, Oz and the wolf.  The wolf came out and Oz went away, then Oz came back and the wolf was gone.  Oz told her that he had a connection to his wolfy half.  Sometimes, when he was angry or frightened for her, he could feel the wolf-parts trying to come forward.  It didn’t happen often, but he was afraid that someday he might lose it and let the wolf take over.  Just like she lost it in the Mansion and the magic took over.

He had never told anyone that.  Willow didn’t feel that she and Oz ever lacked common topics for conversation.  But this past week it felt like they were being more open with each other.  Ever since that conversation about what Giles called ‘their potential for darkness.’  Willow suspected that it was a comfort to both of them to know that they weren’t alone in the fight.  Maybe they could keep each other pointed in the right direction.  That was eventually the goal, but right now they were sitting on the sofa in the Summers’s living room taking a break from disturbing thoughts like black magicks and werewolves while waiting for Joyce and Giles. 

Willow had been working with Oz on his math at the dining room table when they heard Giles drop his tea glass.  Joyce had rushed past them to see what the problem was.  About two minutes later, the two adults had come into the dining room and sat down with Willow, Oz, and Cordelia, who had been resting upstairs.  All the three of them were told was that Buffy had called.  That Buffy and Spike wanted to meet Buffy’s watcher and her mother at the mall.  Joyce and Giles had left immediately afterward.

The three teenagers had sat in stunned silence for a while.  They tried to talk decide what this new development meant.  Cordelia suspected a trap.  Oz just shrugged.  Willow had no idea what to believe anymore.  Over the past week they’d exhausted the theories about why Spike would have kidnapped Buffy, so she had nothing to add.  They just sat silently wondering what would happen next.  After a while they moved to the living room to wait in comfort.

The long silence ended when Joyce threw open the front door.  Willow had only seen Buffy’s mom this angry once: when they told her that Buffy had died.  Willow’s heart sank when she saw Giles come in.  He had a massive bruise on one side of his face and he looked tired.  Chagrined.  So it was a trap.  Willow knew that Buffy wasn’t responsible.  Her friend would never endanger people she loved as much as Giles and her mom, even if she was now a vampire.

Joyce set her purse on the entryway table and rubbed her temples.  It had been a long ride back from the meeting.  The moment they entered the car, Giles accused her of enabling Buffy’s vampiric traits by supporting her relationship with Spike.  Joyce refused to let him rant at her.  She was Buffy’s mother damn it, not him.  Her daughter had just been through a terrible ordeal and had come out with someone who could understand and care for her.  Spike.  She told the watcher as much.  And there was plenty more along the way.

Did Rupert really think that if they got Buffy back, things would be the same as they had been?  Her daughter was a vampire.  There was no return to normalcy from there.  Buffy needed to be with her sire so that she could learn and grow as a vampire.  The Watchers’ Diaries said as much.  Giles grunted and mumbled something about the difficulty of sending his charge off with a mass murderer.

The arrogance of the man!  How could that possibly compare to the fact that he sent her off to die in the first place?  That she would never get to walk in the sunshine again because he and his Council of Watchers handed her a stake and told her to go kill demons?  Rupert paled at that accusation.  Joyce was not about to be easy on him.  He deserved to be slapped for insinuating that the only reason Spike saved Buffy was to use her as a…a whore.  Any fool could see that they were falling in love with each other.

Finally, Joyce gave him an ultimatum.  He could either stop protesting the living arrangements between Buffy and Spike, or he could leave Joyce’s house.  She would not tolerate his presence there tonight if he was going to continue behaving like a supercilious bigot.  He could go back to his apartment while she, Buffy, Spike, and the children dealt with Angelus.  Rupert grew quiet and murmured that he didn’t want to leave her alone at a time like this.  He apologized for his comments and Joyce accepted.

Joyce didn’t press the matter, but she was believed that Rupert was growing attached to her.  She sighed.  While she wasn’t adverse to the idea, that was something that could be discussed later.  Right now she had to talk with the children and prepare them for the coming visit.  They were staring at her nervously from the living room.  She took a deep breath and walked in to join them.

Giles watched Joyce move into the living room to enlighten Buffy’s friends.  He debated about whether or not to join them.  They might be interested in his input.  Then again, he’d made enough of an ass of himself already this afternoon.  He would have untold opportunities to do it again tonight, so he’d stay out of Joyce’s way at present.  He had no doubt that she would be willing to make good on her threat to expel him from the house.  He went instead to the kitchen to find some ice for his jaw.
________________________________________________________________________

Willow stared at the ground after Joyce finished her story.  It was hard to believe that Spike saved Buffy.  It was even more difficult to wrap her mind around the idea that Spike and Buffy were a couple now.  They’d only known each other for a couple months, and most of that time they were fighting.  As in, to the death.  Except neither of them had died yet.  Well, technically both of them had died, but that wasn’t the point.

Cordelia had been shocked by the revelation about Buffy, Spike, and hand-holding.  She couldn’t believe it, and kept asking Joyce to say that part again.  Then she said something about the creepy-crawly bug-man that Spike hired to assassinate Buffy, and being scarred for life.  But five minutes afterward, she was calm and resigned. When did they move to Bizarro!world?  Because that’s the only place where Cordelia Chase could be open-minded about Buffy and Spike.

Willow cast a glance at Oz.  He looked undisturbed by the news that Buffy was not just dating, but living with a vampire.  Willow didn’t think that Buffy planned on coming home to her mom anytime soon, either.  Some part of her had been hanging on to the idea that if they got Buffy home, things would be the same as they had been, except no sunny days at the beach.  But that wasn’t going to happen.  Buffy was a vamp, Xander was practically a mummy with all the bandages, and she was a witch.

And what were they going to tell Xander?  Buffy and Spike being together wasn’t going to be high on his list of all time great couples.  Willow wasn’t even sure yet what she thought of the two of them.

She felt Oz rub her arm, trying to comfort her.  Well, she supposed, vampire and vampire made as much sense at witch and werewolf.  Who was she to judge?
________________________________________________________________________

Spike felt Buffy shiver as they stepped onto her mum’s front porch.  He patted her arm to reassure her.  He knew that she was terribly frightened about her mates’ reception of her after the way her wanker of a watcher treated her this afternoon.

Spike was angry about the disrespect paid to his childe.  But he was so proud of the way she’d handled it.  She wasn’t ashamed of what she was or who she was with.  Her regard for him didn’t mean love, as she’d said before, but it still meant so much to him.  Childer were obligated not to cross their Sire when they were first created, but usually they were too timid to defend their Sire.  It was the Sire that looked after the Childer.  Buffy had turned that tradition upside down this afternoon.  It reinforced Spike’s belief that someday, after she got a little experience under her belt, they’d be together as equals.

That is, if they got through tonight.  Spike had his doubts.  He had stationed the minions and Morrie around the perimeter of the house, in case of trouble.  If it came from the direction of Buffy’s friends, they would run outside and disappear into the suburban landscape.  If it came from Angelus, well, Spike’s servant were armed with crossbows and stakes.  Morrie even had some holy water. 

Of their demon family, that left just Spike and Buffy to enter the house on Revello.  They stood directly in front of the door.  Buffy stared at it uncertainly.  It was a portal that led to the remnants of her old life.  She lifted her hand to knock, but it trembled so violently that she had to put it back down.  Spike put his arms around her waist and hugged her tight to him.  She returned the hug with enough strength to crush a human.  Spike murmured in her ear, “Luv, whatever happens, I’ll always be here.”

She looked up at him with teary eyes.  “I know.  I trust you Spike.”

The hug ended all too soon.  Spike let go first, trying to give her a gentle nudge in the right direction.  Buffy sucked in a deep breath and knocked on the door.  It opened instantly to reveal Joyce and the watcher, both of whom stepped out on the porch.  The watcher had a giant purple bruise on the side of his face.  Buffy gasped when she spotted it.  “Giles, I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be that bad-”

The watcher held up his hand to stop her apology.  “I think perhaps it’s best for all concerned if we try to ignore what was done at our meeting this afternoon.  And what was said,” he added with a downward glance.  “Your mother maintains that this is what I deserve for sticking my chin out too far.”  He paused for a few instants, then met Buffy’s eyes without hesitation.  “And I must say that, upon reflection, I was rather crass in my observations.  I’m sorry Buffy.”

Spike saw the shimmer of a few tears in Buffy’s eyes as she leaped forward and hugged her watcher.  “I missed you so much Giles.”  He hugged her back.

“I missed you too, Buffy.  I see you’re still incredibly strong.”  The watcher winced, and Buffy let go of him, smiling softly.  She moved back to stand beside her sire.  Giles continued, “I’m sorry I was acting like a fool earlier.  You’re right, I have no right to criticize.”

Spike sighed. “Acted like an arse, if you ask me.”

Buffy giggled in spite of herself.  “Spike, he apologized.”

“Doesn’t excuse it.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”  Giles reluctantly extended his hand to the male vampire.  “I’m sorry for offending you and your childe, Spike.”

The watcher certainly knew something about the proper way to appease a demon.  The wording was precise, the kind of thing Spike would have looked for from another master vampire.  That didn’t mean that he was all that inclined to accept, but he couldn’t reject an offer of friendship from Buffy’s surrogate father.  With equal reluctance, he shook the watcher’s hand.

Joyce smiled.  That hurdle, at least, was past.  “Well, there are some other people inside who’d like to see you Buffy.”  She gestured toward the door.

Buffy move to enter, but Spike stopped her with a hand on her arm.  She looked at him quizzically.  Spike turned to Joyce.  “Best invite us in Joyce.”  Buffy’s eyes widened.  Spike hadn’t expected her to remember.  In her short tenure as a vampire, she’d never been inside a human house.

Joyce fought to keep the emotion out of her voice at the immediacy of this reminder of her daughter’s vampirism, but only partially succeeded.  “Why yes,” she replied.  “Come in, both of you, please.”  She looked to Spike to see if that was satisfactory.  He responded with a small smile, then he nodded to Buffy and they entered, followed by Giles and finally Joyce.

Buffy paused in the entryway, looking around at her old house.  It didn’t look any different than Buffy remembered.  But it seemed like a memory from so very long ago.  She felt Spike beside her, also checking out the home.  A glance told her that he was focusing on the pictures of herself and her mother.  He seemed lost in his own memories.  Buffy supposed this reminded him of his human family, who were long since gone.  She would ask him about them someday.  She suspected that he had a few mementos of them locked away in one of his suitcases.

She was pulled out of her reverie when she heard the heart beats in the living room.  Fast heartbeats.  Nervous heartbeats.  Slowly, she moved into the living room where Willow, Oz, and Cordelia were sitting.  Odd that Xander wasn’t there.  Spike followed behind her, but he was ignored.  They were watching her, not him, obviously waiting to see what her first move would be.  Buffy could see a crossbow sticking out from behind Cordelia’s chair.

Willow couldn’t wait anymore.  She had to know if this was still her friend.  Buffy looked thinner.  She looked older.  But she still looked like Buffy.  She stood timidly and walked toward the blonde girl.  “B-buffy?  How are you?”  She winced.  “That was a stupid question, wasn’t it.”

Buffy smiled.  She was trying hard not to cry, but it wasn’t working.  “Hey Wills.  I’m good.  You?”  Willow nodded and beamed at her.  They moved toward each other, slowly closing the distance between them until all of a sudden they were hugging.

Spike didn’t want to crowd in on the reunion scene, but he stayed close enough to get to Buffy if there was trouble.  Now that the Watcher was subdued for the moment (Spike wasn’t any where near ready to take him off the threat list yet), these three were the current threat to Buffy.  Red obviously believed that Buffy wasn’t going to start a killing spree.  He watched to see what the other reactions were.  The cheerleader wasn’t leaping for joy, but she seemed satisfied too.  That left the werewolf.  Spike looked his way.

The boy had stood when his bird and Buffy started hugging.  He was calm but alert, ready to take care of anything that threatened his witch.  He sensed that Spike was watching him and turned his head to meet the gaze.  Spike locked eyes with him for several seconds while each one measured the other.  It was a silent discussion between predators that established a truce.  Neither of them was looking for a fight, just to defend their ladies.  They smirked at each other in a moment of solidarity.  Spike decided that he could like this werewolf.

Buffy spotted Oz over Willow’s shoulder.  “Hey, Oz.”

Oz broke eye contact with Spike to look at Buffy.  “Hey.”

Buffy smiled.  It was a very ‘Oz’ response.  She turned toward Cordelia.  “Hi Cordy.  Where’s Xander?”

Cordelia had been about to smile and say hello.  Then Buffy brought up Xander.  Her face fell.  It wasn’t as if Buffy could have known.  And she didn’t blame Buffy for what happened.  They’d all gone willingly to try and rescue her; nothing could have stopped Xander from going in there with flame-thrower blazing.  He had been so brave.  He was still being brave, but it hurt to think of him injured.  The only thing she could do for him was hold his hand on her daily visits.

Everyone at school thought Queen C was too shallow to feel deeply for someone, especially Xander.  This past week, it had been all she could go not to scratch out Harmony’s eyes.  That bimbo just couldn’t get it through her idiot head that Cordelia could love Xander.  That Cordelia had almost lost him for good, before they’d even had six-months together.  She had never been more frightened in her life than that moment she’d seen the tank explode and hadn’t been able to go to him.

Buffy knew instantly that something was wrong.  Cordelia wasn’t the type to be silent about anything.  Something was wrong with Xander.  That was why he wasn’t here.  “What happened?” she asked Cordelia earnestly.

Cordelia calmed herself.  He was going to get better.  That was the important thing.  “Well, since you’ve been…gone, we’ve been training to get rid of Angelus.  About a week after he took you, we raided the Mansion to kill him and see if you were still alive.  Undead.  Whatever.”  She moved her hair away from her face nervously.  “They rushed us when we were trying to get out.  You remember Soldier Xander from Halloween?”  Buffy nodded.  “Well he managed to get a flame-thrower for the battle.  He killed almost all the vamps single-handed, but then…one of them got a shot at the tank…and…it exploded…”  Cordelia couldn’t speak as she fought back tears.

Willow took over, unwilling to let Buffy draw the wrong conclusions.  “He’s alive, Buffy.  And he’s going to be fine.  All the doctors say so.  Xander says so to.”

“Yes,” Cordy agreed forcefully.  “He’s doing fine now, and he’ll make almost a full recovery.  Just a few burn scars.”

Buffy stared at the girl across from her in shock.  “Oh Cordy.  I’m so sorry.”  The rest of the tears she hadn’t shed while hugging Willow gushed out and Cordy came forward and hugged her.

“It’s okay.  It’s not your fault.”  Cordy pulled out of the hug, sniffling.  “I’m so glad you got away from Angelus, Buffy.”

Buffy nodded.  “I didn’t do it alone though.”  She looked behind her and caught Spike’s eyes.  She motioned him forward with a tilt of her head.  He came up beside her and she took his hand in hers.  She immediately started rambling in his defense.  After all, last they knew she and Spike were trying to kill each other.  “Guys, or gals and guy, this is Spike.  I know it probably looks kinda funny me standing here with my former mortal enemy, but he’s my sire now, and I need you to believe me when I say he’s on our side in this and he’s not gonna hurt any of you-”

Cordelia held up her hands to stop the rant.  “Slow down Buffy.  Your mom explained everything to us already.”

Buffy chewed nervously on her bottom lip.  “Everything?”

Cordy nodded.  “Yeah.  You and Bleach-boy, together in the big ‘We’re Together’ way.”

Buffy heard Spike snort at the nickname, but he said nothing.  He’d been unusually quiet, and she was beginning to think that something was bothering him.  Even when he wasn’t dominating a conversation he was always more vocal than this.  She was surprised that her mom had come out and said that Spike was her boyfriend.  But then her mom never lived in the land of denial as much as Buffy.  “So.  You all know that Spike and I are…um…”

Willow blushed slightly and nodded.  “Yep.  We’re knowledgeable.”

Buffy’s brows furrowed.  “So no attempted interventions?”

All three teens laughed.  Willow laughed.  “Well, we haven’t tried breaking the news to Xander yet, but no, not planning an intervention and I don’t think…” she looked at Oz and Cordelia who shook their heads to the idea of interfering.  “Yeah.  See?  All with the tolerance.”

Buffy found herself grinning like a Barbie at the acceptance.  She was happy this had gone well for her peace of mind and for theirs.  “Thank you guys so much!”

Cordelia raised her hand.  “Not completely ‘with the tolerance’ here.”

“Oh.”  Buffy frowned.

Cordelia addressed herself to Spike.  “Listen Spike, I know you’re your own master vampire and all that, but don’t you think it might be time to leave punk behind?  I mean, that outfit is probably older than your girlfriend.”

Buffy watched Spike’s jaw drop in shock.  She giggled at the sight of Spike, speechless before the fashion critique of Cordelia Chase.  “I think I like him just the way he is,” she said.  He looked at her with surprise and then broke out in a big, goofy smile.  Buffy could have heard she swore Willow sigh at Spike’s happy expression.  Vampy hearing, so maybe she had.

Spike leveled his eyes at the cheerleader.  “Thanks for the advice ducks, but I like to stick with the classics.”

From the look on Cordelia’s face, Buffy knew she didn’t think punk equaled classic but had decided not to argue.  Spike’s smile disappeared suddenly.  Buffy watched his face as he seemed to struggle with a decision.  Still staring at Cordelia, he murmured in a low voice.  “Listen, ‘bout your boyfriend…Xander, I guess.  Did he…”  Spike ran a nervous hand through his hair.  “Was he the one that…that dusted…Dru?”

Cordelia was taken aback by the question.  Spike didn’t sound angry, just sad.  Like someone grieving.  Duh, he was grieving for his girlfriend of the last century, even if she was a ho.  He really must have loved her.  She wasn’t sure what to say, but Joyce, who had stayed out of the conversation, stepped forward. 

Joyce looked hesitantly at the sorrowful vampire.  “No Spike, I’m afraid it was me.  She attacked Rupert, so I…”  she wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence with delicacy.

Joyce saw the surprise in Spike’s clouded expression.  His voice was rough when he spoke, like he was trying to suppress a sob.  “She didn’t suffer, did she?”

Joyce shook her head.  “No.  I was very accurate.  I don’t think she felt anything.”

Spike nodded, but couldn’t reply.  He felt Buffy’s arms at his waist as she hugged him in support.  She was the only person there who could really understand his fears about his sire.  He returned the hug, clinging to her for support as she had to him on the porch.

Joyce decided that perhaps they needed a break before they began discussing tactics.  “Would anyone like hot choc-”

Joyce was cut off by a scream outside.  Spike and Buffy heard the sound of crossbow strings firing.
*****
Please R&R.  Thanks to R’ers and the R&R’ers.  Thanks Linda.

Thank you to whoever was kind enough to nominate this fic at the Lost in Spike awards for Best Love Story, Best Long Fiction, Hottest Bite, and Best Spike Hero.  I really appreciate it!

*****Chapter 17*****

Ryan kicked at the ground with the toe of his sneaker.  He sighed quietly.  He had to face the facts: he was a pretty rotten vampire.  Not rotten like Big Bad material, rotten like he’d rather be at home playing video games and drinking blood out of a mug than hunting.  It just wasn’t any fun to him.  Neither was guard duty.  And right now, standing outside the slayer’s house clutching his crossbow, he was frightened of every sound.

The Master and the Mistress had been in the house for only twenty minutes or so and they’d probably be there most of the night.  He and the other minions and Morrie were supposed to keep watch to see if Angelus’s servants were around the house.  If they came, he didn’t know what he could do to protect his Master against them.  He was only a month old, after all, and some of the minions that sided with Angelus had spent years serving the court of the old Master. 

He was proud to be trusted enough to be on guard for his Master’s safety.  And he was really glad to serve Master Spike.  Without Master Spike, Angelus probably would have dusted him some day for doing something stupid.  But sometimes Ryan just wished he could have a simpler duty.  One where he couldn’t mess up and embarrass his Master.

He heard a scraping noise to one side and froze, searching for the source.  It sounded like it came from the back of the house where Chris was watching.  Silently, Ryan crept around the house until he was within view of the other minion.  Chris was alert and walking slowly toward the small glade behind the house.  Ryan saw Jacob in the shadows on the other side of the back porch.  All three vampires paused, listening.

The attack came from the trees.

Six vampires in game face leaped forward, closing the distance themselves and Chris before he had time to fire his crossbow.  He was knocked to the ground by two of the enemy and screamed for help as they tried to stake him.  Jacob and Ryan fired their crossbows at the clutch of four demons running to head them off.  Two dusted and a third stumbled as he inhaled the dust from his comrades.  Spike’s minions pulled their stakes for hand fighting; there wasn’t time to reload.
_______________________________________________________________________

Spike charged for the kitchen door, ripped it open, and ducked out onto the porch.  He could see Jacob struggling with another vampire and both Morrie and Alexa running towards him.  Thirty feet away, Ryan was on the ground at Chris’s feet, moaning in pain.  Spike heard Buffy rush out the door behind him, so he motioned for her to stay low.  She reached him and they watched as Alexa, still running, dropped her crossbow and pulled a stake from inside her jacket.  She leaped onto the offending vampire and plunged the stake into his chest.  He crumbled to dust beneath her boots.

“Any others?” Spike shouted.

“No!” yelled Chris.  He bent down to Ryan, whose neck was bleeding from the wound of a badly aimed stake.  He licked the edges of the skin to get it to close.  Chris helped Ryan stand and led him toward the porch.

Spike looked over the others as they came to stand beside Buffy and himself.  No casualties, one superficial injury.  He cast a quick glance at Buffy, who was frowning at the ground.  “What’s on your mind, luv?”

Buffy raised her eyes to Spike’s.  His expression was grim, as she supposed her own was.  “He knows.”  These could only be Angelus’s minions.  Morrie said they had been searching everywhere for her Spike.  Trying to find any trace.  The first thing they would have done when they found out that she and Spike were here was send someone to tell Angelus.  The information was too valuable to chance them dying before it was delivered.  She saw Spike nod, slowly.

“Yeah.  This tells him three things.  One, you’re alive.  That’ll make him mad.  Two, you’re with me in the non-hostage capacity.  That’ll make him madder.  Three, we’re teamin’ up against him with your Watcher and the rest.  That’ll make him pop: tidy little three-act betrayal.”  Spike’s fingers itched to pull out his lighter.  Nicotine helped him stay calm and think straight.  But Buffy couldn’t stand the smell, so he’d just have to do what he could without.  “It was always a risk they’d show up, but I was hoping they’d already left when we got here.”

The minions had formed a semi-circle in front of Spike and Buffy.  Spike looked to Alexa.  “From the top.  What happened?”

“They attacked from the rear.  Morrie and I were out front.  We heard Chris scream and came running, but there was only one left alive by the time we got here.”  She glanced at Chris.  “He’d know more than I do.”

Spike turned his stare on Chris.  “I heard a rustle in the grove back there and went to see what it was.  Six vampires came running full-speed at me.  Two knocked me to the ground, I screamed for help, and the other four ran behind me to Jacob and Ryan.  Next thing I knew, Ryan dusted the vamp above me that was going for my heart.  His friend cut Ryan and while he was distracted I dusted him.”

Jacob spoke next.  “Ryan and I heard the noise as well, and came to investigate.  We got two of the remaining four with crossbows.  I staked a third while Ryan went to help Chris.  Alexa got the last one, as you saw.”

Spike nodded.  “Good work all around.  No point going back on patrol.  They won’t send out another scouting party.  If Angelus sends anything more tonight it’ll be an army.  You five wouldn’t be much against that.  Best stay put in the house with us until we get a plan together.”

“And you expect to just bring uninvited vampires into this house?”

Buffy cringed at the accusatory tone of her Watcher’s voice.  She turned to see him standing, crossbow in hand, on the porch.  Willow, Oz, Cordelia, and her mom had spilled out behind him.  His eyes had turned to that same cold tint he displayed when he accused her of being Spike’s ho at the mall.  It was enough to make the minions nervous.  And for the first time, Buffy felt genuinely afraid of her own Watcher.  She was a vampire now.   She got the feeling that meant that he wasn’t going to fully trust her ever again.  He believed that she could be made to betray him.  Her respect for Giles fell a little further.

Spike was unimpressed by the Watcher’s menacing glare.  The man had balls, no doubt.  He was dangerous, certainly.  But Spike had spent years learning to read situations.  And right now, the Watcher wasn’t the one in control.  With all the contempt he could put into words, he replied, “No.  I expect to ask Joyce if my minions could possibly wait in her kitchen while Buffy and I discuss the new position we’re in with you lot.”  He turned to Joyce.  He softened in speaking to her.  Something about her required him to use his good manners.  “Would that be alright, Joyce?”

She smiled at his audacity toward Giles and sweetness toward her.  Spike was quite the charmer.  “Actually, if they’re going to be fighting with us, I think they deserve a chance to be in on the planning.  They’re all welcome to come inside.”  Joyce saw Giles head whip around toward her.  His disapproval stood out in every line of his face, but she ignored it.  He pledged to abide by her decisions.  It was up to him to remember it.

Giles sighed and lowered his crossbow.  This was a battle he wasn’t going to win.  He supposed that he and Willow could dis-invite them later.

Joyce suppressed a smile of satisfaction.  “Well, I’ll get to work on the hot chocolate.  Why don’t you all go inside and get acquainted?”
________________________________________________________________________

Willow watched as one of the minions, Chris, handed Spike a cup of cocoa from the coffee table with a bow.  Spike nodded in thanks.  Chris then repeated the action to Buffy.  Buffy also nodded, and smiled.  Then Chris sat back down on the floor and was handed his own cup by the male minion at his side, Ryan.  None of the minions drank until both Spike and Buffy had.  Cordelia leaned over and whispered in her ear.  “Can we get minions?  You know, without becoming vampires?”  Willow shrugged.  She guessed the minions heard them, because they laughed.

Alexa sipped at her mug, watching the nervous teenagers across from the line of demons sitting on the living room floor.  It reminded her of parties where all the boys stood on one side of the room and all the girls stood on the other, too nervous to dance together.  Right now, the Master and Mistress were not interested in entertaining them, so the duty fell to her.  She smiled at them in what she hoped they would perceive as a friendly way.  “Well, you could probably hire some.”

Willow blinked.  “For, like, everyday things?  Laundry, house-keeping…”

“Hmm.  I suppose so.  You just have to remember that vampires aren’t very patient as a rule, so I wouldn’t ask them to crochet doilies, if I were you.” 

Buffy smiled.  She knew what Alexa was talking about.  Buffy was sitting on the arm of the chair Spike had taken in the living room.  Not taken exactly, more like the one she asked him to sit down in.  He’d been agitated after the fight and started pacing around the living room.  Every time he came near Willow’s end of the sofa her eyes threatened to pop out.  Buffy supposed it was one thing to make a truce with a vampire and another to have him stalk toward you every thirty seconds.

He was still tense.  He sat stiffly in the chair and didn’t blink, his senses on high alert.  He’d calmed down a little bit when her mom brought in the hot chocolate tray.  He watched the little marshmallow’s swirl around on the surface and smiled, thanking Joyce for her hospitality for himself and his minions.  Now, after about five minutes, the hot chocolate had ceased to distract him from the problems at hand.

Buffy knew what Spike was feeling; she felt it herself.  It was a need to do something.  Anything, rather than just sitting here.  They weren’t big on patience, Spike especially.  But they could do it when necessary.  Like now.  So while Alexa made small talk with Willow and Cordelia, they sat waiting for Giles and her mother to join them in the living room.

From the doorway of the kitchen, Giles glowered at the scene in the living room.  It went against everything he knew to let vampires this near to his loved ones.  But then he kept overlooking the fact that one of his loved ones was a vampire.  He sighed.  It was much simpler in those days when vampires were demons to be staked, not visitors to which one catered.

“Stop it.”  Joyce’s voice from behind him was commanding, but not unkind.  “You’re thinking too much.  And you’re being selfish.”  Giles turned to look at her.  “You agreed with me earlier that you’d been too judgmental, and now you’ve gone ahead and done it again.  You weren’t winning anyone to your viewpoint by acting like some watcher Rambo out there.”

Giles frowned.  “It isn’t easy to just throw aside everything I’ve every known about vampires and trust them.”

Joyce crossed her arms.  “Spike’s doing fine throwing aside his instincts to rip our throats out one by one.”

Giles shook his head.  “It could still be a ruse-”

“No.  Where’s your faith, Rupert?”

He snorted.  “Gone.  Angelus took what little was left.”

Joyce put a hand on his shoulder.  “Trust me.  Trust Buffy.  Please.”  She could practically hear his teeth grinding.  “Listen to what they have in mind.”

He acquiesced with a sigh.

Joyce removed her hand and they walked into the living room.  Rupert sat down opposite Spike in the unoccupied armchair.  Joyce remained standing - with eleven pairs of eyes fastened on her.  She wasn’t much of a speaker, but she decided that someone needed to bring the situation back into focus.  “It’s time we got down to business.  First, let’s congratulate ourselves that we have made it this far.  The last two weeks have been taxing for everyone, but we’re here.  That has to count for something.”  She cast a look at Buffy.  Her daughter still existed and she was grateful.  “We need to decide what to do so that we’re still around next week.”

She walked to the sofa and sat down on one of the arms.  “We don’t all know each other well and that has led to several unfortunate misunderstandings tonight.  There have been some harsh words said, but we need to look beyond that.”  She glanced at Rupert, but he remained silent.  “We’re all together for the same reason.  We want to remove Angelus from this town, our lives, and if possible, the earth.  Spike,” she turned her attention to the seated vampire.  “you’ve known him longest.  I believe you should begin by giving us your thoughts on the matter.”

Spike nodded.  “Thanks Joyce.  First thing to know is that he outnumbers us.  Morrie here,” he gestured to his servant, “has done some lookin’.  Angelus has twenty to thirty minions…or had, seein’ as my minions took out six of ‘em a little while ago.  So let’s figure twenty-five.   More ‘n two to one.  He’s holed up in an old wreck of a hotel on the outside of town.  Second thing to know is that if we don’t get him tonight, we’ll never get him at all.”

“What?”  Cordelia looked at him in surprise.  “You want us to attack now?”

He shook his head.  “No, pet.  Believe me, I’d rather wait, but we’re outta time.  By tomorrow the bastard’ll be ready for us.  Hell, I wouldn’t put it passed him to come straight for us before morning.”

“If we’re assuming he knows we’re against him, he may be on his way now,” Giles said with some alarm.

“Doubt it.”  Everyone looked at Oz in surprise.  “When Xander and I were doing surveillance, he never once went back to his lair before midnight.  It’s only 9:30 right now.  He never goes with his minions either, so they won’t know where he is.”

“And minions won’t start that kind of attack without their Master,” Alexa added.

Willow frowned.  “But we don’t even have a plan!  What are we supposed to do?”

“Burn their shelter to the ground.”  Buffy returned the stares of the shocked faces around her.  “We go and watch for when he gets back.  Take out a few minions on the outside if we can do it quietly.  We wait until he goes inside, then we throw Molo…Molo…um, cocktail thingies in the windows and shoot whoever runs out.” 

Ripper couldn’t help but be impressed by the ruthlessness in the plan.  Joyce was right, he’d been too doubting of Buffy’s strength in her vampire incarnation.  “Workable, but a bit crude.  There are a lot of random things that could go wrong.”

“Yeah, Watcher, but it’s the best chance we’ve got.  We’ll be armed and ready.”

Buffy stood up.  “We’ll vote.  All in favor raise your hands.”  Spike’s went up immediately.  Oz followed him, then Morrie, then Willow, her mom, and Cordelia.  Giles raised his as well.  Buffy smiled at him.  She looked at the minions, who hadn’t moved.  “What about you guys?”

They exchanged looks.  Alexa spoke, “We stand by the decision of our Master and Mistress.”

“Okay.  Everybody grab your weapons.  Stakes, crossbows, lots a darts, all the humans get crosses.”  Buffy looked to Oz.  “I saw your van out front.  Can we use it?”  He nodded.  “Good.  We need to go by a gas station.  Giles, what haven’t I thought of?”

Momentarily startled by Buffy’s question, Giles stood and straightened his shirt.  He hadn’t been expecting her to ask his advice after his earlier behavior.  “Right.  Cordelia, take the minions and get weapons for all of us.  Joyce, I suggest that you and I find some empty bottles to use.  Willow, we’ll need rags.  Oz, I suggest you clear out the rear of your van.  Also, if you can find any gas cans, they’d be useful.”  Giles didn’t presume to assign a task to Buffy or Spike.

Buffy watched as her friends left the living room to get supplies.  Her mom and Giles, too.  The minions went outside to help load the van, leaving Buffy and Spike alone.  She sat back down on the chair arm.  She felt a hand creep up along her arm to her shoulder.  Another hand came to rest on the other side.  Spike began a gentle massage along the top of her back.  She sighed.  “So did I do okay?  I’m not really liking the idea of sending them into mortal danger.  I wish I could just take him out myself, so nobody else would be in danger.”

“You did great Goldilocks.  And as for Angelus.  They all have somethin’ to hate him for, like your mum said.  You couldn’t keep them out of this if you tried.  ‘Specially your mum.  She wants her shot at him.”  Spike could see her smile in his mind, even if she was facing away from him.  He let his hands stray to her hips and lifted her off the side of the chair, then settled her on his lap.  He pulled her torso back against his.  Spike pulled a lock of hair back behind her ear and whispered to her.  “Listen, luv.  You be careful tonight.  You’re a lot more flammable than you used to be.  Stay back from the building.”

She moved a hand to the side of his face and stroked it gently.  “You too.  You’re doing better but you’re still not all the way healed.  I’ll be worried about you.”

He gave a soft growl.  He nuzzled the back of her head.  “I can take care of myself.”

She nodded.  “I know.  Can’t a girl worry about her guy?”  She played with the edge of his duster.

“Suppose.”  He slowly smirked into her hair.  “You could always give me a kiss for good luck.  Unless you want to sneak upstairs for a little something more.”

She huffed and turned to look at him.  “Eww, Spike, my mom’s in the house.  And my friends and my watcher.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her.  “Can’t blame a bloke for trying.  Guess I’ll have to settle for that kiss.”

She gave him a loving smile.  “Just until we finish this.”  She leaned over and pressed her lips to his.
*****
Please R&R.  Thanks Linda!
a/n: On reading this again, I notice some similarities to Spikeschilde’s latest chapter of the demon in many.  I just wanted to comment that I wrote this before reading her excellent update, and that I would never knowingly take someone else’s idea.

*****Chapter 18*****

Angelus strode into the hotel around one o’clock.  He’d been shopping tonight, trying to find the perfect present for his errant childer.  A local hardware store clerk had been very helpful.  Angelus had given him vague needs, like portability and power, and the boy had delivered a perfect solution.  He’d even bagged Angelus’s ‘purchase’ before his throat was ripped out.  Angelus loved that unsuspecting quality in humans.  They always assumed that something which would walk out under the light was not a danger.  That the dark creatures keep to the shadows.

It had been a good night, as far as nights went these days.  In addition to acquiring the parcel he carried loosely under his arm, he’d been able to trick a foolish little girl away from her job as a waitress.  She was an excellent server, providing just the kind of meal he loved: warm, feisty, fearful, and tight.  He hated to return from a pleasant evening to the disappointing sight of his minions still searching Sunnydale for two runaway vampires.

But the atmosphere in the hotel felt different tonight from the moment he stepped inside.  Anticipatory.  He could hear the minions chattering in the conference room down the hall.  Had some discovery been made?  Angelus walked down the corridor of peeling wall paper and forty watt bulbs through the double doors where just over half his minions were sitting.  They all stood and bowed the instant that they sensed him.  Several younger vampires in the corner cowered, desperately avoiding eye contact with their superior.

Angelus surveyed group.  The older ones were smiling.  “Well?  What have you found?”

“Master,” one walked forward and bowed.  Angelus recognized him as the leader of the spies he’d sent to Revello Drive. “The fugitives have been seen at the home of the slayer’s mother.”

Angelus gritted his teeth in irritation.  So, Will thought he could defeat his grandsire by teaming with the watcher and Joyce.  “Finally.  Go rejoin your team and continue the watch.  When they leave, I want to know where they go and how many are with them.”

The minion smiled.  “When I left, there were eight in William the Bloody’s party.  Of course, there are fewer now.”

Angelus tilted his head back, staring at the minion through hooded eyes.  His voice was dangerously calm when he spoke.  “What do you mean ‘fewer’?  I know that you weren’t foolish enough to attack and give away our position.”

The minion faltered.  He looked around nervously.  None of the other minions were coming forward in his support.  “I…we thought it was best to lessen their numbers immediately so that - ”

Angelus grabbed the idiot by the throat and twisted his head off.  The dust hadn’t settled yet when he heard the crash of glass breaking.  A moment later, he smelled smoke.
________________________________________________________________________

Spike closed his lighter as the cotton caught fire.  With ease he lobbed the missile at the front door of the hotel.  It broke just as a minion was trying to run out and escape the Molotov cocktails previously thrown through the windows of the structure by the werewolf and the watcher.  The minion caught fire as he jumped the threshold.  An instant later his ash decorated the lawn.

The building wasn’t fairing much better.  The old curtains and paint went first, but the wood around the windows soon glowed as the gasoline driven flames blossomed.  Spike could see ash bursting out of the windows periodically, as the vampires inside attempted to jump out and combusted in the process.  Stupid wankers should have broken through the thin walls.  But they couldn’t think that far ahead.

Arson was fun, Spike decided.  The flames danced beautifully.  Brought out the urge to write more daft poetry.  The way they licked at the building, consuming it as if it were a lover…damn, too late.  Already got a love sonnet in mind.  Bugger.  Well, it wasn’t like he’d ever really stopped writing poetry.  He just made sure that no one could ever find it after he wrote it.

Spike would’ve liked to have been closer to the blaze.  But Buffy looked at him with those sweet green eyes and pouted, while she very gently suggested that maybe with his legs still weak, it might be best for him to guard the front door with a crossbow.  From across the street.  Behind a van.  With Chris standing on the opposite side of the van from him.  Spike would never have believed it possible for a chit to be that bossy without bruising his ego.  Buffy managed somehow.

He supposed that it was her continued concern for him took the sting out of being treated like a convalescent.  If he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit that he was getting tired.  All that walking around at the mall and running around tonight was draining.  Which was why he wasn’t being the slightest bit truthful.  He continued to stand beside the van he could just as easily have been sitting in.  Spike wasn’t stubborn.  He was just performing the task at hand.

That damn smoke was getting thicker.  It blocked out every other smell and it was making his eyes water.  He hoped Buffy was doing as she’d been told and staying back from that mess.  The smoke had to be almost overwhelming up close.  Every once in a while Spike could catch sight of her hair off to the left of the building, so he assumed that all was well.  Much as he disliked magic, he was glad the little red witch was around to act as an extinguisher if something went wrong.  The girl had been telling Buffy a little more about her actions during the Mansion raid while they were in the van.  Pretty impressive mojo for a kid.  Maybe she could do something about the bloody ozone layer.
________________________________________________________________________

He was surrounded by imbeciles.  That was the only possible explanation for the loss of three lairs and three quarters of his minions in two months.  Angelus did not make mistakes when he traveled alone, or with his own chosen companions.  He controlled everything.  These minions were turned by Spike.  Naturally they were inferior in skills to those Angelus would have made.  And traitors too, he supposed.  He doubted that those that were out hunting right now would come looking for him once they discovered that the hotel had been burned.

Angelus had seen no successful escapes from within the hotel save his own.  He’d had the sense to get out onto the roof, then leap to a nearby tree.  He thereby avoided the armed enemies that waited outside the fire.  The entire area was lightly wooded.  There were sufficient trees for him to get far away from Buffy and her hunters.  The little girl was being brave, still playing at being a slayer.  Well, he’d finish what he’d started with her before an hour was passed.  He just had to capture the proper hostage.

He clutched his present tighter.  Good thing he’d charged it at the store.
________________________________________________________________________

Spike thought for a moment that he heard a noise over the crackling of the fire across the way.  A snapped twig maybe.  This far out of the center of town, they’d hoped to avoid witnesses.  He turned to look behind him, crossbow leveled at the lightly wooded area behind Chris and himself.  He didn’t see anything unusual, but he was growing more certain that he’d heard something nearby.

He heard the sound of clothing fluttering against the breeze above him.  He tried to duck away but it was too late.  An arm locked around his torso and a knee hit him sharply in the spine, near the point at which it had previously broken.  He howled in pain as a shockwave from the impact ran through nerves in his legs.  He would have collapsed if not for the thick arm that had knocked his crossbow away as he was overcome by the pain.

Spike could smell charred flesh and fury, and underneath it all Angelus.  Spike struggled trying to loosen the larger vampire’s grasp on him.  Nothing worked.  His legs tried to help him run but they lacked the coordination.  He couldn’t even reach Angelus’s arm with his teeth.  Then he felt the stake pressed against his heart.

Spike saw Chris come running from the other side of the van.  The minion stopped a few feet away, afraid to do anything that might cause his Master’s dusting.  He kept his crossbow up, but he couldn’t fire with Master Spike in the way.

Angelus growled at the unworthy creature that dared to threaten him.  “Drop it boy, or I’ll dust your Master here.”

“No!” Spike shouted and began to struggle again.  Angelus smacked Spike’s ear with his free hand.  It began to bleed from the force of the blow.  “Now, now Will my boy, unless you want to be dust this instant we’ll hear no more from you.  Drop it!” He finished with a bark.

Chris stared at Master Spike.  Slowly, he lowered his weapon.  He hoped the Powers that Be were as merciful as they were said to be.

Angelus dashed Spike’s head against the van’s side, then leaped forward and dusted the minion.  He was back at his grandchilde’s side in an instant.  Spike was trying to reach his dropped crossbow.  Angelus couldn’t have that. His first kick broke some of Spike’s ribs.  The second bruised his stomach.  The third to the head rendered him unconscious.  Boy always was a weakling.  Angelus found the brown-paper wrapped package that he’d dropped when he tackled Spike.  He took a moment to admire it as he stripped off the wrapper. His new nail gun was a beautiful invention. 
________________________________________________________________________

Buffy was watching the flames when she felt it.  A sudden, inexplicable feeling that something was wrong.

Things had been going smoothly since they’d left the house.  They went by a gas station and filled up some gas cans.  Buffy and Oz went in to pay.  Buying several gallons of gasoline, a funnel, and half-a-dozen cigarette lighters got them an odd look from the cashier, but no one questioned them.  By the time the van arrived at the hotel, they’d filled fifteen old bottles with gas and stuffed rags in the top.  There was a debate about who was going to light and throw the bottles. 

The minions were strong and accurate enough to get the cocktails through the window every time, but they weren’t to keen on the whole fire thing.  In the end, Buffy divided her troops into pairs, human and nonhuman.  Buffy and Giles, her mom and Ryan, Cordelia and Jacob, Willow and Alexa, Oz and Morrie.  Each of those pairs would take two bottles.  They’d spread out around the building and start the fires, then wait to make sure nothing got out.

She deliberately left Spike and Chris to guard the front with the remaining bottles.  Spike was angry about that.  He didn’t say so while they were with her friends and the minions in the van, but Buffy could tell.  She knew his moods so well.  He wanted to be closer to the carnage.  He didn’t want to be treated like a weakling.  Buffy pulled out all the stops in pleading with him.  The eyes, the touching, the pout.  She sighed in relief when he gave in at last.  She knew she wasn’t going to win all their arguments that way, but it wouldn’t matter so much when he was in top shape.

Buffy couldn’t help worrying.  In a week Spike had managed to get so far under her skin that she couldn’t think straight without knowing where he was.  The first few days had been about needing her sire, but now…she just needed Spike.

They’d stood beside each other, hands liked, until they saw Angelus marching down the street.  It surprised her how little she felt in seeing him again.  What he’d done still hurt, but Angelus wasn’t worth the tears.  And the pile of dust he was about to be wasn’t either.  She’d given Spike a sweet but teasing kiss as she left him to take up her post.  Fifteen hits of gasoline and fire later, not one single vampire had come her way.  Well, there was that one guy that jumped out the window and tripped over a burning beam.  He was gone before she could even raise her stake.

So why did she feel so frightened?

Nothing was happening here.  She could leave Giles for a few moments to check on Spike.  She didn’t doubt her sudden insight that it was Spike that would be in danger, and not the others.  She just knew.  She excused herself from Giles with a mumbled apology, not even looking at him as she began to jog toward the van.  She didn’t see Spike on this side of it.  She slowed her pace, going quietly forward.

The hairs on the back of her neck began to rise as she reached the van.  She lifted her stake to the ideal angle.  She extended her senses.  Two vampires were behind the van.  One was her sire, but the other felt different than Chris.  Older.  Powerful.  Slowly, dreading what she would see, Buffy rounded the van.  She gasped when she caught sight of Spike.

He appeared at first glance to be standing in front of a tree with his arms over his head.  His head lolled to the side, his eyes closed.  Buffy could see blood on both sides of his face.  There was also some running down his arms from punctures through his wrists.  She looked closer at the battered flesh between his hands and forearms.  Nails.  Many of them in each wrist.  He’d been nailed to a tree. 

She let her eyes follow the line of his body down.  Spike was on tip-toe, trying to keep the pressure off his arms, which had been nailed too high on the tree for him to stand properly.  His arms were tensed under his duster, trying to free themselves, but unable.  An abandoned nail gun was at his feet.  Spike stirred, sensing her.  His eyes opened and caught hers for a moment.  Then his head tilted, gesturing to the side.  Buffy braced herself and gripped her stake tighter.

“Not quite the Crucifixion, but it was the best re-creation I could make with the materials available.”  Buffy whipped her head around to see Angelus standing on her right.  Arms crossed and holding a crossbow, he was leaning comfortably against another tree.  “I’d love to wait until sunrise to see him dust.  Perfect eastern exposure and all, but I don’t want to join him.”

He uncrossed his arms and aimed the bow at her.  “You know, a lot of people don’t understand how artists like me can bear to part with work we took great pains to create.  The reason we don’t get all teary is that we know the value of what we’re parting with.  Spikey here is pretty near worthless, though he does make a pretty martyr.  You Buffy had the chance to be my crowning artistic achievement: a turned and broken slayer.  You gave that up and now you have to stick to being a prelude to Spike’s dusting.  Actually the first to go was that hopeless minion.”  Angelus gestured to the pile of ash on the ground.  “Hope you weren’t too attached to him.  But hey, it won’t matter soon, ‘cause you’ll be dead.”

Buffy felt the air vibrate as the crossbow fired.  She dove to the ground and the bolt zinged past her ear.  Then Angelus was on her.  While she was still on the ground he grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her back at the van.  The metal side resonated with the force of her impact.  Angelus grabbed her right leg but she kicked him away with her left.  She leaped to a fighting stance, searching for the stake she’d dropped.  She was going to stake his smile off.

Angelus gave her an appraising look.  “So, did you entertain Spike the way you entertained me?  Bet he refused you at first.  He never did like taking my leavings.  And when he finally did give in he told you it was good, ‘cause he’s too much of a pansy to be honest.”

Buffy tried to keep her anger in check, remembering the lessons of her watchers.  She kicked Angelus in the knee, forcing him to stumble, then aimed a punch at his chest.  He caught her arm and flipped her over his shoulder.  She landed hard at Spike’s feet.  She lay looking up into his down turned face.  He wasn’t looking at her.  He was looking at something on the ground beside her.  Spike caught her eyes, willing her to realize. The nail gun.  Buffy nodded slightly, then lay still, pretending to be stunned.

Angelus took a moment to wipe the dirt of his pants before reaching under the van for his former childe’s stake.  He tossed it loosely back and forth between his hands as he approached her.  He kneeled beside her, so that he could look into her eyes as he dusted her.  “You’ve gone downhill, Buff.  Didn’t take long for you to forget all that fancy slayer training.  I was hoping for more of a fight.  Oh, well, this’ll give me time to get out of here before your watcher and your little friends arrive.  I think I’ll take a page from Ol’ Rupert’s book.  Burn down your mom’s house.  How does that sound?”  He raised the stake above her chest.

“Angelus?”

He smiled at her.  “Yes Buffy?”

“You talk too much.”  Buffy grabbed the nail gun with her left hand and blocked the descent of the stake with her right.  She whipped the head of the gun up to his throat and fired it.  The nail pierced the flesh between the bones of his jaw, then slid through his tongue and into his palette.  She heard his pained, instintive attempt to breathe and felt his grip loosen on the stake.  She grabbed it out of his hand.  She aimed it at his chest.  He clumsily attempted to block her, but it was too late.  Buffy rammed it home into his chest. 

He crumbled around her.  Inside her she could feel his death, as a member of the same Order.  She knew instinctively what it was, though she’d been too exhausted to feel Drusilla dust before him.  For Dru, she felt some sympathy.  For Angelus, she would not mourn.

“You okay, pet?”  Spike whispered in a ragged voice.

Buffy looked up at him with a tired smile.  “I’m not the one nailed to a tree.”

Spike chuckled.  “Yeah.  Well, can’t a guy worry about his girl?”

Buffy stood and smoothed out her clothing, ridding it of the remaining residue of Angelus.  She leaned in and kissed Spike, gently stroking his face.  “I love that about you.  You’re always thinking about the people you love before yourself.  It’s one of the reasons I think I’m falling for you.”

His face lit up as he smiled back at her.  He looked awed at her confession.  Buffy kissed him again, this time deeper.  After a few moments he pulled back reluctantly.  “Luv, not that I’m not enjoying this, but I think I’d enjoy it more if I wasn’t still hanging from this sodding tree.”

Buffy looked sheepishly at the ground with a small smile at her absentmindedness.  She stopped smiling as she examined his wrists.  “It’s gonna hurt when I pull you free.  I think I’ll have to remove the nails separately; they’re riding on the bone.”

“No worries, luv.  We’ll take it one step at a time, yeah?  Ready?”
________________________________________________________________________

Fifteen minutes later Buffy had managed to get Spike into the back of the van.  She’d pulled the nails out and bandaged his wrists with some of the torn fabric that hadn’t been used for wicks.  She’d wiped most of the blood off his face; she could clean him up better when they got home.

The fire was dying down and her friends and servants were returning.  She supposed that they hadn’t heard the battle on the opposite side of the street over the din of the blaze.  When Giles arrived he was cleaning the soot from his glasses.  He looked at her curiously.  “Buffy, why didn’t you return to our position?”

She sighed.  “Because Angelus was here.”  She heard the intake of breath of both the living and unliving.  “He escaped the building, somehow.”

Giles cleared his throat.  “Has he been dispatched?”

“Yes.”  Buffy looked over at the minions and Morrie.  “But not before he dusted Chris.”  Morrie bowed his head and murmured some kind of prayer.  Buffy saw Jacob put an arm around Alexa’s shoulder.  Alexa put a hand on Ryan’s back.  The youngest minion was staring open mouthed at the ground.  He’d idolized Chris.  They’d been very close.

Jacob looked up.  “The Master?”

“Master Spike is injured, but he’ll be alright.”  Buffy turned to Oz.  “I’d like to stop by the hospital to get him some human blood, so he can heal more quickly.  Would you drive us there, then drop us off at home?”

Oz nodded.  “Sure.”
________________________________________________________________________

Buffy stared at the window of the ICU ward.  She didn’t remember who’d first suggested that they should visit Xander while they were here.  It was a good idea.  They could prove that Buffy was okay, that Buffy was good, and that Angelus was dead.  Xander’d appreciate hearing it directly from her.  But Buffy was more afraid of going into his room than she had been of facing down her nemesis.  She’d tried to make excuses: somebody needed to stay in the van with Spike, somebody needed to get the blood.  But there had been other people to perform each task.

Xander hated vampires so much.  More than Giles, even.  And after Jesse…what would he think of her?  She was already at odds with her watcher.  She didn’t want another person she cared about to be suspicious of her.

Cordelia and Willow had gone in first to make things easier.  To make sure Xander knew about Spike.  And Buffy.  And Spike and Buffy.  They’d done the hard part.  They’d gone five minutes ago, but Buffy still hadn’t managed to go inside.  ‘This is stupid.’ Her inner voice insisted.  ‘Just go in.  Better now than later.  The sooner you finish this, the sooner you can get back to Spike.’  Buffy’s demon parts seemed to agree; they wanted to get back to her sire.  Before she could question the impulse again Buffy strode to the room’s door and entered.

Xander was lying on the bed facing the entrance.  He was covered in bandages.  Even his hands were wrapped.  Buffy couldn’t help the little intake of breath as she got her first look at her friend.  He’d suffered so much trying to help her.

Xander smiled.  He couldn’t help it.  On some level he knew Buffy was a vampire.  That Buffy was living with Spike.  That they were doing naughty non-evil things together.  When Willow and Cordelia had told him about it, Xander didn’t want to believe it.  Well, he still didn’t.  He wanted to believe that Buffy was alive and that Angelus, Spike, and Dru had never come to Sunnydale.  But denial wasn’t possible when he was in a hospital covered in burns.

Xander hadn’t wanted to see Buffy after he’d heard.  He didn’t want to sully his memory of her by seeing what she was now.  A vampire willingly living with Spike.  No matter how much Spike had done for her, it just wasn’t right.  He couldn’t believe that Buffy would ever belong with them.  For an instant, he’d been ashamed of her.

Cordelia had asked Willow to leave them for a moment so that they could discuss in private.  After Willow left, Cordy’d refused to give him a moment’s peace until he at least spoke with Buffy.  That was one of the reasons he and Cordy were so good together.  They kept each other’s impulse to do stupid things in check.  Now, seeing Buffy for the first time since that horrible night when they’d found her blood in the cemetery, he could see that Cordy was right.  While her vampire tendencies might bother him, what mattered was that Buffy was alive.  Or undead.  At least, not in the ground.  He couldn’t wish her otherwise.  “Hey, Buff.”

She smiled.  “Hey Xander.”

He sighed.  “So.  I talked with Willow and Cordy.  I’m glad you got Angelus.”

“Me too.  I’m sorry you got hurt trying to come to the rescue.”

“That’s not your fault.”  He paused, considering.  “A bunch of stuff like that’s happened lately that we can’t really change.  Just move on from.”

Buffy nodded.  “That’s life in Sunnydale.  Or death in Sunnydale, in my case.”

“Oh, yeah, and not to speak ill of the dead, but about Spike…”  Xander was surprised to see a resolve face appear on Buffy.  She looked ready to pounce on him if he finished that sentence.  He decided to choose wisely and go in another direction.  “Do you love the guy?”

Buffy thought for a moment.  “He’s my sire, so yes.  He’s my boyfriend, too.  I’ll love him that way before much longer.”

Xander frowned, but said nothing.  “Does he love you?”

“Very much.”

Xander attempted to shrug, but he wasn’t sure how well it went over with the bandages.  “Then I’ll try to be happy for you.”

Buffy felt a few tears threatening to be released.  “Thanks, Xand.”
*****
Please R&R.  One more chapter to go.  Thanks to the Readers, Reviewers, and Linda. 

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