It was late when they entered the lobby, close to three in the morning.  Cordelia and Wesley would be arriving for work in a few hours.

Angel had found Buffy.  He needed to let the group in Sunnydale know she was safe.  He pulled her close and kissed her tenderly.

"Up the stairs," he said, pointing Buffy towards his room.  "Room 218.  Wait for me."

Buffy nodded docilely and climbed the stairs to his room.  Angel picked up the telephone receiver.  His phone call jarred Willow and Tara from a sound sleep.  When they found out the reason for the call, it didn’t really matter that he had awakened them.  He briefly explained that Buffy was safe but that she wouldn’t be heading back to Sunnydale any time soon.  Expressing her deep gratitude and relief, Willow assured Angel she would relay the message to Giles.

Slowly ascending the stairs, Angel wondered what he would find upon reaching his room.  He had sent Buffy up alone before him for a reason.

He wanted her to find Spike.

He wanted to see if she understood.  Buffy and Spike were both his possessions, period.  The simpering weakling that Spike had so appropriately labeled the "Slayer’s lapdog" no longer existed.  Buffy needed to understand quickly.

If the slayer accepted her place readily, wonderful.  If not, she would learn, but like it or not she would do as she was told.  He loved her deeply.  He would be as kind as possible. But, he was their Master.  Spike had learned that the hard way and if necessary so would Buffy.

When he entered his darkened suite, Buffy was standing in the doorway to his bedroom.  She faced away from him, staring down at Spike’s form bound nude at the foot of Angel’s bed.  Spike did not acknowledge her presence.  His Master had not given him leave to do so.

Buffy trembled slightly.

Angel walked up behind her, his chest gently making contact with her back.  He bowed his head.  His lips brushed the sensitive shell of her ear.

"Do you understand?" he asked in a whisper.

A single tear streamed down Buffy’s face but she didn’t make a sound.

"Are you evil?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"Do you mean is my soul gone, Little One?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, her voice barely audible.

"No.  My soul is here.  The demon is bound," he said, gently caressing her arms.

"Then how could you do this?" she whined, terrified.

"Because I can.  Because I am Sire and Master.  I am not the man I pretended to be for you, Buffy.  I let guilt and remorse cripple me.  I was scared.  I cowered before my true nature, sure it would damn me eternally," he breathed into her ear.

Buffy turned to face him.  "What are you saying?"

Angel met her gaze with forceful intensity.  "I lived a lie, Buffy.  I tried so hard to be a man.  I am not a man.  I am a vampire.  For years I repressed all of the urges and desires that rule my kind."

"And now?"

"Now I am what I am, a very powerful master vampire.  I started by reclaiming my spoiled childe.  I did him a great disservice by allowing him to run wild for more than a century.  His world has order now.  He knows his place.  And soon you will too," Angel said quietly.

"You aren’t worried about your soul?" she asked, still trembling.

Angel had pondered this question from the moment he discovered the wayward slayer had returned to Los Angeles.  Was he worried about his soul?

"No," he answered quietly.

When he had first found Buffy, she was his entire world.  His love for her pulled him from the gutter, made him live in the world for the first time in a century.  She gave him purpose.  For the first time he knew love.  It was powerful and thrilling and unknown.  He had been as naive as she in that respect.  She made anything possible.  She filled his life with wonder and joy and the hope that happily ever after did exist.

That had led directly to his moment of perfect happiness.

He no longer harbored such illusions.  Happiness like that could only be experienced by a being too innocent to imagine the horrors that lay in wait.  He no longer possessed any innocence, much less enough to endanger his soul.

Angel walked around Buffy and into the bedroom.  Gently but very firmly he grabbed Spike by the nape of the neck and forced him up onto his knees.  Spike obeyed without hesitation and without comment. Turning his childe so that he was kneeling at the foot of his four poster king size bed, Angel briefly caressed the intricate network of scars adorning Spike’s neck.  Pleased, he walked back to Buffy.

Spike didn’t move.  He simply stared at the bed.

Angel pulled Buffy gently against his chest and kissed her deeply.  Walking her to the side of the bed, he bent to turn on a small lamp on the nightstand.  In the illumination he studied Buffy.  She was dirty, her hair tangled and mussed.  Her clothes were stained and ripped.  Her bottom lip was bruised and cracked where he had struck her.  His seed had dried on the inside of her thighs.  Under the power of his gaze, she shifted her weight back and forth on her high heel clad feet.  She did not meet his eyes, staring vacantly at the floor.

His cock hardened inside the confines of his jeans.

Angel stepped back from her and slowly removed his clothes, throwing them carelessly on a chair in the corner of the room.  Nude, he stood before her.  Buffy looked intently at his throbbing sex.  It was thick and long and completely rigid.  She finally lifted her head to meet his gaze.

He smiled lazily at her.   Placing his hands on her hips, he gently urged her back onto the dark patterned comforter.  She lay across the width of the bed, her arms at her sides.  Biting down on her abraded lip, she looked nervously up at Angel.  Her vision flicked to Spike.  He was watching them, his face devoid of any emotion.

"Angel?" she whined quietly, her vision once again resting on his childe.

Leaning forward, Angel put his hands under her knees, urging them up towards her shoulders and apart.  He kneeled on the bed between her spread thighs.  Her scandalously short skirt rode up to settle around her waist.  With his hands still holding her knees apart, Angel positioned the head of his cock at her entrance.  She was wet, but scared, her vision flittering nervously between Angel and Spike.

Angel gently thrust inside Buffy.  His earlier release in the alley had been intense.  He didn’t feel the need to rush things this time.  He looked at her passively as he glided in and out of her hot channel.  Her knees trembled in his hands and she closed her eyes.

"Look at me Buffy," he commanded gently.

Buffy opened her eyes and met his languid gaze.  She once again glanced at Spike, then back to Angel.  Her eyes filled with tears.

"You belong to me, Buffy.  He needs to know that, to see it.  It will help him know his place.  And you know yours."

Buffy’s eyes closed again, squeezing out the tears that had yet to fall.  As she was still new to this, Angel allowed her disobedience.  Releasing her knees, he let her legs fall to the mattress. Her shoes fell to the floor as her legs made contact with the bed.  He leaned forward over her body, bracing his weight on his hands on either side of her head. Still thrusting, he ran his tongue over the trails the tears had left.  Reaching down with one hand, he ripped the flimsy material of her skirt and shirt away from her body as gently as possible, leaving her completely nude.

He leaned back on his heels.  With one hand he circled the place where his body was thrusting in and out of hers, wetting his fingers with their combined fluids.  He slowly circled her clit, applying gentle pressure with his thumb.  Buffy began to thrust her body against both his cock and fingers, her head lolling from side to side as he applied more pressure.  He began rubbing in earnest, delicately kneading the tender bud between his thumb and index finger.  He was rewarded by a series of breathy moans from the slayer.  A layer of sweat glistened on her skin in the dim light.  With a sharp gasp, Buffy reached her climax, her inner muscles throbbing around his cock.  Angel ground his teeth and concentrated on not coming.

When the last of the tremors had rolled through her body, he pulled out of her and positioned his cock over her stomach.  A few firm strokes of his hand and his seed spilled all over her abdomen, some pooling in her belly button.

Confused, Buffy looked at him, as he took several deep breaths.

"Don’t move," he instructed, rolling to lay on his side next to the slayer.  He kissed her deeply for several minutes, caressing her tiny face with his large hands.

"Boy," Angel commanded, his voice deathly low.  He looked at the still kneeling Spike.

At the command Spike rose to his feet, head bowed submissively.  His cock was hard and angry.  His hands were bound behind his back, secured at both the wrists and just above the elbows with thick leather cuffs connected by several links of steel chain.  His ankles were encircled by similar cuffs, but the chain between his legs had perhaps eighteen inches of slack.

He walked with very measured steps to stand between the slayers parted legs.  Buffy tensed to draw them together, but Angel stopped her.

"Let him," Angel directed her.

Buffy’s body relaxed slightly.  Spike kneeled between her thighs and began to lap at his Sire’s cold cum.  As if savoring the taste, his tongue moved with tantalizing slowness.  Buffy was trembling uncontrollably.  Long minutes later, Spike had removed every drop of Angel’s semen from Buffy’s stomach.  With his head still bowed, he edged off the bed and went to lay at the foot once more.

Buffy sobbed violently and turned her body towards Angel’s.  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace, murmuring words of love.  Pulling the covers back, he lifted her fragile form and crawled into bed with her, wrapping them snugly in the blankets.  He reached over and turned off the light.  Buffy’s sobs mostly subsided as he made gentle shooshing sounds to her.

"I love you, Buffy.  You’ll learn," he said gently, kissing the top of her head.

The End