Somehow I never pictured it like this.  I always believed that things would get easier, that life would be better after it was all over.  That the world would be different, that people would change and in doing so change said world.  Truth be told, I never even expected to survive.

I was wrong on all counts.

The End of Days predicted by the Oracles and by prophecy came and went, and with it went my life.  I should never have survived; I should have gone down fighting but Fate’s a bitch.  She took almost everything I held dear during that war, and in return for my service … let’s not go there right yet.  The only saving grace is that the others are not around to see what they died for.

Cause it’s not a pretty sight.

Demons still roam the earth and so do other things that go bump in the night.  Why?  Because the End of Days was only one of many of its kind, a large fight to maintain the Balance.  The only difference now is that the Hellmouth is closed, which does nothing except free me to travel around.  Not that I go far.  There’s enough problems to take care in Los Angeles, enough to keep the three of us busy.  Besides, the other two Slayers can handle the rest of the world.

Yes, I said the other two.

Oh, that’s right.  Did I forget to mention I’m a vampire?

Pale hands slipped around her waist as lips brushed the tip of her ear, a tongue darting out to taste her skin.  Buffy leaned back into the embrace, relaxing muscles that were still tense from the hunt as his hands soothed her tired flesh.  "I take it your patrol was heaps of fun, eh pet?" he asked.

Buffy pulled away and turned to face the vampire behind that just scant seconds before had been *this* close to making her purr.  "Oh, it was loads of fun, Spike.  You missed out on a doozy," she said tiredly, her voice grim despite her exhaustion.

"Really?" he asked, his lips brushing across hers.

"Oh, yeah," she answered, kissing him back.  "We have lots of problems …" she started before he captured her lips again, cutting off her flow of words as their tongues stroked and intertwined, dueling in the ages old rhythm of lovers.  Buffy whimpered as his hands slid under her shirt, and she moaned into his mouth as he pinched her nipples.

From his vantage point in the doorway Angel had been privy to their short conversation, and he now watched as they groped each other in the kitchen of their home of the past ten years.  He smiled as he watched Spike’s hand slide beneath the waistband of Buffy’s pants, his smile turning to a smirk as he heard her cry out in pleasure.  Stepping farther into the room he joined his Childer, grinding his pelvis into Buffy’s ass and nipping at her neck.

Buffy writhed between her two lovers, growling when she felt Angel’s fangs on her throat and nearly purring as Spike’s knuckles brushed across her swollen sex.  This fast and almost careless intimacy was what she craved after a hard patrol, even when the news she brought was so vastly important to their small family …

But then there were two sets of fangs in her throat, and she felt herself exploding as she latched onto Spike’s neck, sucking hungrily as her orgasm washed over her.  His blood was spicy and full of energy, so unlike Angel’s which was powerful and ambrosial.  But it doesn’t matter, she thought as she felt herself return to earth.  It doesn’t matter at all …

Pulling away from the two men, Buffy slumped into a nearby chair.  The other vampires followed her lead and soon the three sat facing each other around the center table, panting despite their singular lack of need for air.  "That’s better than a massage," she told them, a small grin forming on her face.

"Anytime, luv," Spike smirked.  "Anytime."

Angel’s face echoed this for a moment, but then his features drew together in concern.  Studying her carefully, he asked, "When’s the last time you ate, Buffy?"

Buffy sighed.  "Before I left to patrol."

"You need to eat again," her Sire informed her.  "You’re much too pale, my love."

Buffy nodded, feeling the burning, clawing hunger twist in her veins.  As Spike rose to find her a ‘snack,’ she looked back at Angel.  "I ran into a few problems," she told him.

"What else is new?" Spike mumbled, his voice muffled by the refrigerator.

Angel lifted an eyebrow.  Buffy glared.  "Anyway," she continued.  "Before the bleached moron interrupted – "

"Hey," the bleached moron cried.

He was ignored.  "Go on, Buffy," Angel urged.

"While I was out I noticed a few things.  One – there are more vamps in the old theater.  Dusted about ten.  I’m not sure, but I think they have a new leader 'cause they certainly didn’t look as unorganized as usual," she told him.

Angel filed this information away.  If there was a new Master in town it was worth looking into.

Buffy continued.  "Two – there’s a group of Bracken demons looking to get out of the city.  I rescued a child from a pack of vampires and returned her to her family … I can’t begin to imagine what they would have done with her…  "

Memories of Doyle flooded Angel’s mind.  Unconsciously his face morphed, startling Buffy.  "Angel …?" she questioned.

Angel struggled to control the sudden surge of emotions.  When he felt his human features reappear he told her, "I’ll make a few calls; enough people owe me a few favors.  We’ll make sure they get out of town safely."

Buffy nodded.  "Three – there’s a bunch of groupies in town … they’re staying who knows where but they’re meeting at that nightclub, Dementia."

Angel and Spike groaned in unison.

"And four – I, uh, heard a rumor tonight.  One of the Slayers is being sent here."

Silence reigned.

After a long pause Spike broke the eerie silence.  "How good is the rumor?"

Buffy swallowed.  "Very good."

"Where did you hear it?" Angel asked.

"The vamps I dusted … they were hounding a guy … he knew how to fight but he was one person facing twelve vampires … he staked two, I got the rest … turns out he’s a Watcher …" she whispered.

Angel sat straight up and looked alarmed.  "Does he know who you are?"

"No."

Relief washed over their features.  "Then how –" Spike started.

"I took him to the ER," Buffy told him.  "While he was waiting to be seen by a doctor, he called someone … another Watcher.  I stayed to make sure he was okay, but I left as soon as I found out who he was."

"Why are they sending her here now?" Spike grumbled.

Buffy shrugged.  "Something about a cadre of demons looking to reopen the Hellmouth.  I guess," her voice caught, tears forming in her eyes.  "I guess they don’t realize that can never happen again.  It’s impossible."

Angel nodded, silent.  Spike looked uncomfortable; he handed Buffy a glass and left the room.  The two lovers watched his retreating form until it was out of sight, then turned back to each other.

"Will you be all right?" he asked.  "I need to make those calls."

Buffy nodded, brushing a tear from the corner of her eye.  "It’s just … it’s close to the surface tonight."

Angel stood, cupping her face in his hands.  "I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing hers.

"I love you.  Always … forever," she replied, her voice no louder than his.

Then he was gone and she was alone.

Alone with the memories.

We never really talk about it, why I’m not sure.  I guess because then we would have to confront our pasts, deal with emotions and the pain and sorrow and anger … we’d have to confront the fallout.  And not one of us wants to do that.

Closing the Hellmouth is what really destroyed what was left of us.  Oz escaped the Initiative only to be killed by Cain, damn his black soul.  Despite moving on, Willow was devastated, and convinced Tara to help her curse the werewolf hunter with his death.  But they couldn’t handle the magical backlash and, less than a month later, Tara committed suicide.  Afterwards Willow slipped into a depression the likes of which I had never seen, blaming herself for everything from Tara’s death to my being a Slayer.  Eventually she surfaced, but only long enough to throw herself headlong into research, finding the spell to seal the Hellmouth a few months later.  Only somehow the information was leaked to a branch of the Scourge, who attacked halfway through the casting. That fight was the culmination of the battle that began the day I was Called.

Both were days that destroyed my life.

Anyway …

Amy, Anya and Willow managed to finish the spell but the energy it required left them terribly drained and I … I couldn’t protect them.  Necks were snapped, and organs ripped out while I was fighting.  There was blood everywhere.  Xander went berserk, killing or wounding any demon he came across until a stray blow brought him down towards the end.  I held him as he died, and with his last words he cursed me for letting them down, for getting Willow killed.  Never mind that they all went into this with no illusions …  It’s funny, though, that on his deathbed it was Willow, not Anya, that was foremost on his mind.

And Giles …  We were separated during the height of the fighting and it was not until afterwards that I found his lifeless, gutted corpse.  Only by his ring did I know him, the damage was so atrocious.  I think I went mad for a bit … no, I know I went mad from the shock because I don’t remember Spike carrying me out of there.  In fact I don’t remember anything from the time I found Giles’ body until we turned up on Angel’s doorstep three days later.

Angel …

He took one look at us and he knew.  And when I saw his face, when his eyes met mine, I knew he had suffered the same heartbreak.  His dark gaze was full of sorrow and anguish, much as they had been one Christmas morning years ago.  I recognized that look and knew it was reflected not only in my eyes, but in Spike’s cerulean blue ones as well.  We all shared the same heartbreak.

Later I learned Wesley had been killed by rogue members of the Council of Watchers as punishment for choosing to work for Angel, which was tantamount to working for me.  Cordelia was murdered by Faith, who was by that time part of the last vestiges of Wolfram and Hart.  By killing her they sought to cut him off from potential clients by severing his connection to the Powers That Be.  A rather pointless endeavor, especially since a visit to the Oracles informed him that he no longer needed a seer – lost souls would find their way to him.

Oh, and that as a reward, his soul was permanent.

It was on that note that Spike and I turned up.  Angel took us in, of course, not just because we were lost souls, which we were (except for Spike, although he too was lost), but because we were all that was left of his family.  Even Drusilla was gone, perishing in a fire started by a riot in Rio.  After extracting a promise to remain on ‘our’ side, Angel found a way to short circuit the implant in his Childe’s brain, leaving the blond vampire happier than I had seen him in years.

Little by little we settled down and adjusted to the new arrangements.  We were wary at first, but the need for comfort and security drove us into each other's arms.  The old bond between Sire and Childe returned, as did my link with Angel, even as Spike and I forged the threads of our own connection.  Together we formed a new family with Angel at its heart.

And it was as that common link that he began to worry about me.  Angel feared that my relationship with Spike was too fragile, too tenuous, and might not hold should he perish.  So it was this fear, and the desperate need to keep his family together, that led him to turn me six months later.

How?

I remember …

Buffy knocked the dust off her jacket as she trudged into the basement apartment after a short patrol, swearing under her breath at the rising number of demons in the city as winter approached.  Immediately she noticed something was off.  The lights were dimmer than usual, and a trail of rose petals stretched across the floor towards the bedroom.  Adopting a defensive position she extended her senses, searching for her lovers.  Feeling the unique tingle only they exuded, she relaxed and followed the trail of flowers.

When she entered the bedroom she found chocolate and wine waiting for her.  Smiling at the thoughtfulness she sat down in a nearby chair, indulging herself only to be interrupted a few minutes later when Angel emerged from the bathroom beckoning for her to follow.  Curious, she abandoned the sweets only to find another surprise …

A tub full of steaming water with rose petals scattered across the liquid surface awaited her, the tendrils of steam mixing with the curls of smoke from the scented candles that provided the only illumination.

"What’s the occasion?" she asked.

"Who needs an occasion, pet?" Spike countered.

Angel shrugged.  "You deserve a little pampering after … everything."

Shrugging off the feelings of guilt, Buffy let her still dusty clothes fall to the floor, landing in a puddle at her feet.  Dark eyes burned in the low light as Angel gazed at her, and Buffy felt her nipples harden as the air in the room shifted.  Shivers raced across her skin as cool hands crept over her shoulders, her lips parting as Spike pulled her hair from its messy knot on the top of her head, running his fingers through the blonde waves.  Moments later the soft scrape of bristles against her scalp told her that he was brushing her hair, and she nearly purred in contentment.

A chuckle from Angel brought her back to reality and she slipped away from Spike and slid into the water.  As she eased herself into the tub Buffy let out a tiny sigh, and her eyes slid shut as her head tipped back to rest on the attached pillow.  A few minutes passed; then she felt the water move and opened her eyes to see Angel lower himself into the tub facing her.  He gave her a tiny grin then lifted her leg, placing her toes on his chest.  Spike handed him a can and a razor, then sat back on his heels to watch the show.

Angel pressed the button on the canister and was rewarded with a handful of foam.  Setting the can down on the floor he coated her leg with lather, being sure to massage her sore muscles as he went along.  He flexed his wrist and carefully drew the razor up her leg revealing a single, straight path of creamy skin devoid of hair.

Buffy’s eyes slanted as Angel shaved her legs, and she allowed the fumes from the wine she sipped to mingle with the scent of the lather and the steam, all of which combined to tickle her nose.  The feel of the razor as it glided over her flesh was unbelievably light, unlike anything she had ever felt.  Never before had anyone done this for her – she considered it a chore to be accomplished on the way to bigger and better things.  But this … she hadn’t realized just how truly intimate the act could be.  Nor had she ever considered the eroticism implicit in that simple intimacy.

As Angel rinsed her legs Buffy felt Spike gently nudge her forwards as he slid in behind her, and she bent her knees, leaning towards the dark eyed vampire.  Scants seconds later she felt her hair being lifted and realized Spike was twisting it into a topknot, exposing her neck and shoulders to both vampires.  Then came the scent of roses and a soft rubbing sensation as they washed her body, Spike paying attention to her upper torso as Angel pampered each individual toe.

"Ooohhh, that feels good," Buffy murmured.

"Always happy to oblige," Angel responded, his fingers working their way up her legs.

"The pleasure is all ours, luv," Spike whispered, his voice caressing her ears.

Buffy arched her back and Angel took advantage of the situation, leaning forward to suck one of her rosy nipples into his mouth.  At her gasp of surprise Spike slid a hand down to draw lazy, sudsy circles around its twin, teasing it to hardness.  As she whimpered at the sensations Spike tipped her head back, their eyes locking, jade meeting azure.

"Did you like that?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Buffy simply nodded, unable to speak.  Smirking, Spike brought his lips down to hers, his mouth swallowing her tiny whimpers.  As their tongues dueled lazily, his exploring and caressing the cavern of her mouth, Buffy became aware of another stroking sensation.  A slow fire was building in her womb, and she sliced her tongue on a sharp fang as Angel’s thumb brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden by the curls between her thighs.  Breaking the kiss she sucked in a deep breath, exhaling a moan as one finger slipped into her velvety sheath.

"Aaaaanngggeeellll," Buffy cried.  "Please!"

The vampire in question grinned wickedly, then slipped another finger inside her and began a slow pumping motion.  Buffy screeched, caught between the two vampires, the heat from the water only increasing the fire that was threatening to burn out of control.

"What do you want, Buffy?" Angel asked, his voice smoky with lust.

An incoherent mumble was his only response as her silken walls clamped down on his fingers.  "Ah, ah, ah," he admonished.  "Just answer the question."

"Please," she whimpered, as Spike trailed open-mouthed kisses down her throat.  "Please make me come."

"My lady’s wish … " he growled, once again catching her nipple in his mouth.

Buffy moaned loudly when she felt Spike wiggle a finger into her bottom as Angel added a third finger to his continuous thrusts, his thumb massing her tender pearl in ever increasing strokes.  Angel smiled, full of masculine satisfaction as she approached her crisis, and once more rubbed her slick center of pleasure.  She whimpered at the combined feelings, her breath coming in shorter spurts as the sensation started to peak, her mouth falling open in a silent scream.  Suddenly Buffy felt her body tense, and was aware of several things all at once – the feel of the water as it washed over her skin, Spike’s lips on her throat, the scent of the candles, Angel’s fangs embedded in her breast, the clenching in her womb.  It was as if she had reached the pinnacle she was spiraling towards, and for a scant second everything was clear.  And then something burst inside of her as she tumbled from the heights of pleasure, and she shattered, screaming in ecstasy as tremors rocked her body.

Angel smiled as she collapsed, spent and floating in a sea of bliss.  Later Buffy barely felt Spike rise from the water and slip out of the tub; she simply drifted in languid satiation until she felt Angel lift her from the rapidly cooling water.  He didn’t bother to set her down or dry her off, but carried her into the bedroom posthaste.

When her back hit the red satin sheets Buffy looked up at her lover, noticing his rampant erection for the first time that night.  She slowly moved to her knees, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip.  Groaning Angel sank into her mouth, her teeth scraping along his length.  Buffy teased him, pulling back to suck on the head before slowly taking all the way to the edge of her throat.

Torture, pure torture, Angel thought as Buffy’s hot cavern engulfed him again.   The little minx had learned to please him and was exploiting that knowledge unmercifully, as one tiny finger crept between the globes of his ass to worm its way into his tight hole.  As she deep throated him again she hummed, sending bolts of fresh lust straight to his loins and he snarled, pulling away and forcing her onto her back.

Buffy fell back, surprise etched across her features.  She quickly caught on, though, when Angel gripped her knees and spread them apart, pushing them towards her head.  He slid inside with one sure thrust and Buffy shuddered, lifting her arms to hold her legs.

Angel growled his approval.  "Good girl," he rasped.

One thrust became two, two became three, and so on until Buffy lost count as the pressure in her womb began coiling again.  Angel pounded into her without mercy, hard and fast, and she met him thrust for thrust, her need the same as his.  Buffy screeched as he angled her hips, thereby allowing him even deeper access, his thrusts touching the mouth of her cervix and rubbing against her most sensitive flesh.

"Please," she moaned, as the tension became unbearable.  "Now!"

"Oh, yes, soon," he promised, his thrusts picking up more speed.

Recognizing the tightening of her muscles, Angel slid a hand between their bodies and pinched her swollen and distended clitoris, hissing as her velvet walls clamped down on his shaft as her orgasm washed over her.  Snarling Angel let go, her fluttering walls milking him as he spilled his essence within her molten core.  But before she could completely relax he massaged her tender pearl until her banked fires burned even more furiously than before, and she exploded yet again as he buried his fangs in her throat.

Her blood was ambrosia, surely the very nectar of the gods, he thought hazily.  Lust, anger, fear, pleasure, remorse and love, so much love pounded through his mind as he continued to drink.  Then she shattered again, her climax triggered by his feeding.  As he savored the delicacy of her ecstatic blood he felt her heart begin to slow and pulled away, slashing his wrist and holding it over her open mouth.

Buffy was in a fog, mind and body unable to cope with the sheer amount of sensual pleasure and the massive blood loss.  She was vaguely aware of something warm and wet sliding down her throat but paid it no heed, instead choosing to drift off into the arms of Morpheus.

As Buffy’s eyes slid closed Angel pulled his wrist away, licking the wounds closed.  Part of him railed at his actions, but the other half knew he was only doing what had been destined to occur from the moment they fell in love.  Fate had been cruel to them, yes, but she had also been kind, offering all three a second chance at love.  And as much as Buffy may despise his actions when she rose, he knew this was the only acceptable solution.

It was the only way to keep his family, his beloved Buffy and incorrigible Will, together.  Forever.

After all, that was the whole point.

And I was upset when I awoke.  Of course, the very fact that I was angry made me realize I was still me.  Apparently the soul of a Slayer overpowers and destroys the will of the demon carried in the blood – in short, the demon animates the body but has no consciousness of its own.  Oh, I do have the bloodlust and my ‘dark’ side is darker, but I’m still me.

And where was Spike?  He was out looking for dinner, a murderer or a rapist.  The blood of criminals is always spicier than that of innocents, that much I know firsthand.  When he returned he brought a body with him, telling Angel that my first feeding ought to be from a living being.  Angel protested vehemently … until he got a look at the body.

It was Faith.

I should feel guilty for killing her, I really should.  But as I drained the blood from her body, the twin tastes of spicy evil and powerful Slayer reverberating in my head, all I could feel was my hunger for blood and my need for justice.  Does that make me bad?

I doubt it.  Oh, I’m not as innocent, as light, as I once was.  But I’m not evil either – I’m gray.  The three of us, we’re all gray … and what is gray but balance.  For Angel it meant embracing the demon within; for Spike it was learning to fully embrace his humanity; and for me it’s accepting my destiny a balance-keeper.

We each embody the Balance within ourselves, even as we fight to keep that Balance on earth while not loosing sight of ourselves.  And despite the changes I’ve seen in the past century one thing remains constant – my family.  Angel, my beloved soulmate, and Spike, my irrepressible companion …  We’ve always taken care of each other, loved each other, and we always will.

Forever.

That’s the whole point.

The End