Rosetti's description fit me not six hours ago.  Once the End of Days began it seemed like I was constantly on the move, no time to settle and think.  It wasn't until those damned rogue Council assassins murdered Wesley that I was able to think.  Memories of Doyle came flooding back, and I felt so fucking useless!  Not again, I raged.  I didn't want this to happen again.

But I had to stay strong for Cordelia.  Losing Wesley, barely a year after Doyle hit her hard.  She screamed and shouted herself hoarse, then picked up the gun and …

Oh, God.  It still hurts to think about it.

She shot the assassin that killed Wesley, and promptly had an emotional breakdown.  I didn't dare leave her alone for weeks; not only did I fear what she might do to herself, in her condition I didn't know what she might do to someone else.  She stayed in my apartment, curled up in my bed and cried.  Then she was icy, then bitchy, then weepy … and finally she seemed to find a balance.  She started caring about fashion, nagged about the coffee maker and demanded a raise.

It was during those weeks that Kate came to call.  Seems she had had an altercation with Faith, and decided to come to me about it.  I told her the truth.  She was a bit skeptical a first, but another incident only confirmed my statements.  Realizing that taking Faith down would be next to impossible, especially considering the rogue Slayer had the protection of Wolfram & Hart, she quit the force and joined the firm.

Or rather, joined what was left of it.

Cordelia recovered as well as could be expected though she was never the same.  Understandable, really.  The visions continued and she handled them as well as she could, which unfortunately meant more liquor and less aspirin.  It was on one of her less sober evenings that Faith paid her a visit.  Cordelia might have survived had she been sober enough to crawl to the phone and call 911 … but Faith had counted on that and acted accordingly.

Damn her!

We, Kate and I, buried her not six weeks ago.  I tried to call Sunnydale, but couldn't get through since by that time they were having their own problems.  That government organization was screwing with the lines as I found out later … and between that and the demons that were flocking to the Hellmouth …

Then came the bombings.  The office was bombed while I was out to see the Oracles, and the police and fire department determined it was arson (as Buffy would say, duh) though they had no leads.  Needless to say, I knew who was responsible.

I moved around for the next few weeks, never staying in one place for more than a couple of days.  Then, three weeks ago, I found the warehouse and quietly started renovations.  Slowly but surely business got back underway.  But it was just that, business.  I stayed long enough to save the lost soul, kill the demon or send the perpetrator to the police, but I never got involved.  Doyle would have been ashamed of me; he would have scolded me the way he did when we first met.  Wesley and Cordelia, especially Cordelia, would be pissed beyond belief that I was shutting myself off, that I'd stopped 'living.'  It was easier though, to let my 'life' end -- no personal attachments, do the job and move on.  Even though it had only been a month I felt like I did before Whistler found me in New York.

But six hours ago my life started again.

I cannot describe the feelings that came over me when I saw them in my makeshift office.  My Buffy and my Will, both my beloveds were right there in front of me.  For a moment I wondered if it was yet another trick by the First, such as it tormented me a few years ago at Christmas.  Would they lull me into complacency then attack, or would they accuse me of killing them?  After all, by that time I had heard of the destruction in Sunnydale and I believed them separated from me forever.  Then I smelled the blood and I knew this was no ruse -- they were really there.

I fell to my knees and embraced them, drawing them close as I fought the overwhelming urge to cry in joy.  My Childer were safe, they were back with me at long last.

She's sleeping now, my beautiful Buffy, my soulmate, after eating some eggs I made for her.  Unfortunately, I can all too easily understand what she's going through.  I've been there.  But there is something that disturbs me …

I pulled the door shut and went back to the kitchen, where I found my favorite Childe gorging himself on the contents of my refrigerator.  He looked a little better; better than Buffy, at any rate.  As I studied my one-time lover and recent enemy turned reluctant ally, I found myself wondering how the two had come to end up together.  Oh, I had heard the story from Spike already and I know Buffy was in shock and remembers next to nothing, but I know something happened.

Something Spike doesn't want me to know.

And as my Childe turned to face me, somehow I knew.  I knew that he had taken advantage of her for his own twisted reasons and that realization filled me with a rage I hadn't felt since Cordelia died.

Only this time I wasn't helpless.

I could feel his wary gaze on me as I crossed the room, circling him like a hunter circles its prey.  His eyes darted one way then another, possibly looking for a way out, but he stood perfectly still, not moving a muscle.  A little tick in his jaw was the only other thing that gave him away.

Well, that and the bulge beneath the fly of his jeans.

"What did you do, Spike?"

My recalcitrant Childe merely smirked.  "What are you talking about, Peaches?"

So the attitude was back, was it?  Now that he's safe and sound he decides to pull out the 'high and mighty, big bad master vamp' act?  Not likely.  I think it's time my Childe remembers who his Sire is.

"You know damn well what I mean, boy.  What did you do to Buffy?"

Spike shrugged and turned back toward the fridge.  "Why's it matter?  So what if we fucked the other night -- "

My boy really needs to learn when to keep his mouth shut.  "*We* fucked, Spike?  Or did *you* fuck her?  Hmm?"

If he thinks he can break the hold I've got him in then he's less intelligent than I thought.  Does he remember nothing?  Soul or no, I am his Sire and I will have my answers.

"Ouch!  Damn it, you bloody poof that hurt!  Would you cut it -- "

SLAM!

"Did that hurt, boy?"

"Gah … "

Swing him up and grab the back of his neck, forcing him to look at me.  "Now, my boy.  What did you do?"

Ineffective swat before he speaks.  When will he learn?  "So what?  Yeah, I fucked the chit while she was out.  She didn't even know what was happening and besides, after all the SHIT she's put me through she deserves -- "

Caress his face.  I always loved those cheekbones.  "So, because she made you miserable she deserved to have you rape her, is that it?"

"Why not?" my Childe responded belligerently.  "It always worked for you."

A barb, one that would hurt a year ago -- but I've changed too much for it to strike a chord.  "Ah, but you're forgetting one important thing."

"And that is?"  Always the sarcastic one, this boy.

"I'm your Sire, boy," I tell him as I push him over the edge of the table, his face smashing against the polished granite.  "And that means that I make the rules, not you.  If I fuck you because you've pissed me off, that's my prerogative.  You, my boy, do not have that right, especially when it comes to those I've marked."

My Childe continued to issue threats and struggle as I ripped his jeans down, holding him down while I opened the fly to my own pants.  Leaning down I bit the nape of his neck and he bucked then stilled as my hand reached down to grasp his swelling cock.  I smiled as I felt the tip become slick.

He always loved it when I dominated him, which makes me wonder -- did he want this?  Did he fuck my lover because he wanted my attention?  It would be just like him if he did -- he always was the jealous sort.

My fingers slick with his precum, I push a digit passed his tight ring, the muscles clamping down as he tensed up.  With my free hand I slapped his ass and he started to relax a little, groaning as I worked two then three fingers into his tight bottom.

"You're tight, my boy.  How long has it been?" I whispered through my teeth, licking his neck right above the vein.  "We didn't do this a few years ago … has anyone else had your ass?"

He groaned inaudibly.

"What was that?  I couldn't hear you."

Spike groaned again, louder this time.  "No one … "

"No one?  Why Spike, I'm flattered.  Not even Penn?"

My Childe snarled at that and I chuckled.  No, he wouldn't have let Penn within a mile of his ass.  "Well, my boy, that's good and that's bad.  Good, because in the end this will be good for both of us.  Bad, because this is gonna hurt," I told him as I pulled his cheeks apart and shoved my cock inside.

He howled and I snarled.  Oh, but this felt wonderful, being inside him again.  As I pumped in and out I stroked his ever-stiffening shaft; he finally surrendered with a moan, pushing his hips back to meet my thrusts.  I growled approval and pumped harder, driving us both towards release.  His muscles clamped down and he snarled as he came in my hand, and then I gave into the sensations that had been building, driving into him with one last powerful thrust as my teeth pierced his neck.  I came in a blinding flash of light, snarling in pleasure and dominance.

A few minutes later I pulled away, sighing at the sight of my seed running out of his ass and dribbling down the backs of his thighs.  I wiped myself on a nearby towel and refastened my pants; he remained bent over the table.

"Go take a shower," I commanded.  "Then come to bed, understand?"

"Yes, Sire," he murmured.

"Good boy," I whispered.

When I went in to check on Buffy she was just beginning to wake up.  She stared at me sleepily for a minute, as if trying to decide if I was real or not.  Her decision was made when she threw her arms around me and buried her face in my chest.  I held her for a few minutes, until I heard the water running in the bathroom.  Pulling away I wiped the stray tears from her eyes and pressed my lips to her forehead.

"I'm here," I whispered.  "You're safe now, Buffy."

"Angel … " she crooned, snuggling closer.  "Missed you … love you … "

"I love you," I told her, stroking her hair.  She made a sound similar to a vampire's purr and I couldn't help but smile.

I cupped her face and gently kissed her, relishing the feel of the threads of our connection, threads that I could feel strengthening with every passing second.  She made that little sound again and I chuckled, kneading her lower back and trailing kisses down her throat.  As I brought a hand around to trace the tip of her nipples, she pulled away with a startled gasp.

"Angel, the curse," she started.

"Not an issue, not anymore," I responded.

A smile the like of which has never been seen this side of heaven split her face, and she promptly broke down and started crying.  Only this time she was laughing as the tears fell and I gathered her close until she calmed.

She pushed her hair back and looked at me.  "So … "

"Whatever you want, Buffy.  I know you're still injured."

Buffy nodded, wincing as she shifted positions.  I steadied her and helped her lay back down, pressing kisses to her breasts as I stroked her sides.  She relaxed as I kissed my way down her stomach, tensing only briefly as I drifted over still healing cuts and bruises.  As I parted her legs I found bruises on her inner thighs where my Childe had used her, and I soothed them as best I could.

A woman's sex is a beautiful thing, like a flower in full bloom.  I knew Buffy was still sore from what happened with Spike, so I skimmed over the tops of her folds and teased her swollen, sensitive bud until she began releasing her delicious honey.  She whimpered and cried out, begging me not to tease, and after I had lapped up her sweet nectar I turned my attention to her tender pearl, sucking on it until I felt the tremors of her orgasm begin to wrack her body.  Buffy is beautiful in the throes of passion and she is never more succulent than at that time, so I carefully sipped the rush of juices released as her crisis washed over her.

I kissed my way back up her body as she came down, my tongue slipping in to duel with hers when I reached her mouth.  She smiled against my lips, breaking the kiss to breathe before curling up next to me.

As I wrapped my arm around her the bathroom door opened and Spike stepped out, looking more unsure and wary than he had in over a century.  I beckoned to him and he slid into bed on the other side, laying stiffly before relaxing into sleep.

As my two loves lay sleeping on either side of me I felt a fresh burst of hope for the future.  And in that moment I realized that this was a new beginning for all of us.

It was time to live again.

The End