Wilt thou go with me sweet maid
Say maiden wilt thou go with me
Through the valley depths of shade
Of night and dark obscurity
Where the path hath lost its way
Where the sun forgets the day
Where there's nor life nor light to see
Sweet maiden wilt thou go with me

Where stones will turn to flooding streams
Where plains will rise like ocean waves
Where life will fade like visioned dreams
And mountains darken into caves
Say maiden wilt thou go with me
Through this sad non-identity
Where parents live and are forgot
And sisters live and know us not

Say maiden wilt thou go with me
In this strange death of life to be
To live in death and be the same
Without this life or home or name
At once to be and not to be
That was and is not – yet to see
Things pass like shadows – and the sky
Above, below, around us lie.

The land of shadows wilt thou trace
And look nor know each other's face
The present mixed with reasons gone
And past and present all as one
Say maiden can thy life be led
To join the living with the dead
Then trace thy footsteps on with me
We're wed to one eternity
- "An Invite to Eternity" by John Clare

 
When she woke, the first thing Buffy was aware of was that she was nude. But she was toasty warm, laying sprawled out on a very comfortable bed and wrapped in silk sheets covered by heavy velvet duvets. All in all it was a very nice place to be.

But it was not her bed. And she was not in the dorm, nor yet at home or even at the mansion.

Groaning, she pulled herself up only to be assaulted by the memories of the past twenty-four hours. Glancing about she realized she was alone, and that this was not the bed she'd gone to sleep in. As her eyes focused, she took in her surroundings.

The bed was another gigantic four poster monstrosity with curtains, only it appeared be almost black in color. A fire burned in what Buffy knew had to be a marble fireplace; a few lamps were lit on the other side of the room, away from the bed. As she slid off the bed, her feet encountered a soft rug whose colors glowed against the hardwood floor. A pair of chairs and a low table were set up in front of the hearth; a bureau and a large wardrobe were opposite the fireplace, all made in the same black wood as the bed. The dark furniture contrasted nicely with the walls, which were a very light color. From the ceiling hung three chandeliers, all of which looked like they could hold up to fifty candles each.

Rubbing her hands along her bare arms, Buffy walked over to the wardrobe to find something to wear. Opening the doors she was almost knocked over by the yards and yards of silk, satin, velvet and lace that seemed to spill out. Red, black, blue, white, green, ivory, amber -- the vast array of colors seemed endless. Looking down, she saw dozens of slippers, shoes and boots, all of which she was sure would more than likely fit her. She wondered idly if Angelus had measured her feet (and other pertinent body parts) while she was sleeping.

"Speaking of which," she mused aloud. "Where am I? And what time is it?"

Receiving no answer, she set about picking the pieces of clothing apart. She recognized a few of the items, thanks to the leftover memories from being turned into an eighteenth century noblelady two Halloweens ago. She took one look at the corsets and sets of petticoats and grimaced. Grumbling, she finally settled on a white satin sheath, and a light blue velvet overdress with long sleeves that laced up the front. Sorting through the shoes, she was unsurprised to find a pair that matched the dress. Slipping them on, she found a brush on the top shelf and proceeded to pull it through her hair, before tying the blonde locks back with a length of ribbon.

There was no mirror in the room, so Buffy smoothed her hands over the dress and squared her shoulders before walking to the door. Time to get some answers.

"The ceremony is next month," Angelus said, as he passed a sheaf of papers to Will. "That's when we finish this."

Will looked at sire, arching a scared eyebrow. "Are you sure about this? You know he'll 'ave guards all over the place."

"Oh, he'll have guards in place. He's not that foolish -- just too certain that he's succeeded in distracting us. And if we call in a few favors ..." Angelus trailed off, and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

The younger vampire frowned. "We might can outnumber 'im. But we need to know the place -- who'll be where, you know."

"We have an informant," Angelus revealed. "He's not one of the Master's lineage, but, in his words, drifted in because he thought his services would be of use. However, he's unhappy with the Master's plans to find and open the Hellmouth, so ..."

"He's decided to defect," Will finished. "Good for us ... for now. What about later?"

Angelus frowned. "I'm not sure. He's an odd one, that Dalton. More of a scholar than anything else. But having him around could be useful."

Will nodded, glancing at the mantle clock. "So that just leaves us with one more point -- just how do we destroy the bastard?"

"Well, a broken chair leg and a sledgehammer worked for me," a third voice inserted.

Angelus and Will jerked their heads up at the interruption. Buffy stepped through the doorway, and looked around at the massive study. Shelves filled with books lined the oak paneled walls, and a large table scattered with papers was situated in the center of the room.

As she walked towards them, Angelus let out a rumble of pleasure. The light blue velvet made her skin look like rosy alabaster, and it brought out the blue speckles in her hazel eyes, just as he knew it would. Because she had neglected the typical layers of petticoats, the dress molded to her body, emphasizing the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. She was exquisite.

And deadly. Watching her cross the room he knew he would be a fool to think otherwise. She carried herself with the ease of someone completely comfortable in their skin, her back straight but not rigid, head held up. Instead of delicate footsteps, she walked with confidence, not bothering to change the space of her gait. It was at that precise moment that Angelus believed everything Will had told him about her, everything that his beautiful childe had learned from his otherworld counterpart.

She was the Slayer.

But she was also his. A bolt of possessiveness shot through him at the sight of his mark on her neck. Granted, she had been marked before, but he had put his own touch on her. And as much as he had tasted her blood, she had tasted his. He now knew she would never be a vampire, but they would always remain connected. She would always be his.

It was with that in mind that he stepped towards her, stretching out his hand in welcome. One of her eyebrows edged up, and a smiled began to form on her pink lips. "I think we've passed the handshake stage, don't you?" she asked.

Will let out a bark of laughter, and Angelus smirked. "We have at that," he acknowledged. "But that means I'm more than allowed to do this," he growled, pulling her against him and crushing his lips against hers.

His lips slanted over hers, demanding entry. Buffy capitulated, surprised by the onslaught. He was insistent, demanding that she surrender even as she met him with equal ardor. Time seemed to stop as their lips intertwined, his hands sliding down her sides to settle on her hips, drawing her closer.

Angelus released Buffy only when it became evident that she needed to breathe. Gasping slightly, she pulled away, willing her body to calm down. Of course, Angelus' refusal to relinquish his hold on her didn't help any.

"So," Buffy ventured, slipping out of Angelus' hold, "you're trying to kill the Master. Not that I'm objecting, but isn't that a little ambitious, even for you?"

Will and Angelus exchanged glances, before answering. "Perhaps," Angelus told her, "but we have our reasons."

"Oookay," Buffy drawled.

"But what was that about a chair leg and a ... sledgehammer?" Will asked.

"Oh, that," Buffy said, as she sat down on a nearby chaise lounge. "That was how I killed him in my world."

She got a sharp look from Angelus, and a snicker from Will. Then, in tandem, the two joined her on the lounge, one on either side. "Really?" Angelus asked.

At his incredulous look, Buffy sighed. "All right, so I had some help. But in the end, he was dust." She tipped her head, looking thoughtful. "Okay, pretty much only his head was completely dust ... the rest of him was in little, bitty, unable-to-be-put-back-together pieces. End result was pretty much the same."

She shook her head. "That was a couple of years and a world away, though. Not to mention that I was in a 'kill or be killed' situation. So I didn't have the time to plan an all out offensive ... and that *is* what you're doing, isn't it? Plotting against him, I mean?"

Angelus regarded her carefully for a moment, before placing two fingers under her chin, tipping her face up to meet his eyes. "Yes, we're going to destroy him."

"Why? I thought you were his 'right hand,' or something like that. And what about Darla? Unless she's really different in this world, this isn't going to give her a happy."

Dark shadows crossed Angelus' eyes. Will fidgeted. Buffy winced, and asked, "Sore point?"

Angelus rose from his seat and paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Suddenly he stopped and turned to face her. "Darla and Drusilla," he started, glancing at Will whose face took on a hard look, "are, as you aptly put it, dust. They were killed in a fire in Prague about three months ago, a fire the Master," he sneered the name, "could have prevented."

"But 'e didn't," Will spoke up, the anger in his voice clearly evident. "The bastard let them burn in order to save his interests in the city."

"Oh," Buffy whispered. "So this is revenge."

They didn't respond. Buffy twisted uncomfortably in her seat, then rose and walked around the table, trailing her fingertips along the polished surface. She looked up to see both Angelus and Will studying her intently.

"What?"

"Yes, this is revenge," Will told her.

"We control the all the clans on the Continent," Angelus said. "*All* of them, and he knows it. We came here a month ago to find a time to finish it, to destroy him and decimate all his followers. The past fortnight has been a game, each of us pretending that we're not at odds. He needed to distract us ... "

"And here you are," Will finished.

"Me?" Buffy's eyes widened. "What have I got to do with this? Besides my being stuck in this world, I mean."

Angelus crossed the room in three quick strides and grasped her by her upper arms. Buffy gasped, her body tingling as she was pulled flush against him. She looked up to see an undefinable emotion glowing in his eyes.

"You feel that," he stated.

She nodded.

"There's something about you, something between us," he told her, his voice low and husky. "Master Nest could see it. He knew, somehow, that you would more than please me." He brushed his lips across hers, and whispered, "And you do please me. *Very* much."

Buffy whimpered, and tried to pull away only to find that Will had molded himself to her back, preventing her from moving. His hands slid down her arms, pinning them to her side as Angelus nibbled on her neck. "Sweet, you're so sweet. Ambrosial, even. Not even my sire was as sweet or powerful as you are ... and these things I feel for you, I never felt for her. Nest thinks you'll obsess me to the point of insensibility."

"And I'm not?"

Will chuckled. "Oh, he's obsessed with you, sweeting. But he's not going to lose this fight, not now."

"We'll destroy him, take control of all his clans and when we're done ... then I'll lose myself in you forever," Angelus whispered.

Buffy stiffened. "And what about me? Don't I get any say in this? What about what I want?"

Angelus looked surprised. "Does it matter? We'll take care of you. Surely you've realized by now that you'll want for nothing. Anything you desire will be yours," he told her as he trailed his lips over her eyes.

Despite the fact that his words were raising her ire, Buffy's stomach chose this moment to growl. Loudly.

"What I desire right now is food," she grumbled, filing his words away for a future argument. "I haven't eaten in ..." she trailed off, a frown crossing her face. "What time is it? What day is it? How long have we been here? And where is here?"

The two vampires smiled. Will stepped back, allowing Angelus to take her arm and lead her to a large set of double doors on the other side of the room. Stepping into the outer hall, they resumed their conversation.

"It's just before midnight on Thursday, 8 December, 1898," Angelus told her. "And we arrived shortly before sunset -- we have ways of traveling by day, when need be. You slept for over twelve hours."

"And 'ere is your new home," Will finished, flinging open a set of high doors that led outside.

Buffy's heart almost stopped. As she walked out onto a stone terrace, all she could see was miles of manicured lawns, ornate gardens and trees dotting the surrounding area. No people, no roads. Turning around, she looked up toward the house she had exited.

Correction.

Not a house -- it was practically a damn castle.

The imposing white stone structure rose four floors from the ground. On either far side were square towers, whose tops were an extra fifty or so feet higher than the roof of the main building. Tall glass windows covered with gold trimmed black drapes peeked out from under Gothic arches, and intricate carvings decorated the arches themselves. Buffy realized that what she thought was an elaborate decoration was actually an outside stairwell carved into the side of each of the towers, leading from the ground up to an inset door.

Everywhere she looked she saw hints of whimsy and fantasy, or the imposing majesty of Gothic architecture. *I never realized that section on architecture in history class would be so useful.* But despite all this, everything she saw on one side was mirrored on the other -- the entire place was symmetrical.

"Ordered chaos," Buffy whispered.

Angelus laughed, a deep rumbling sound, and turned to lead her back inside. "That would be one way of describing this estate," he acknowledged. "The original owner, who designed this place, was thought to be quite mad. It's not at all a 'fashionable' residence, but it is a novelty; a conversation piece, if you will. And it's remote location makes it ideal for us."

"And where is the original owner?"

"He's dead, sweeting," Will told her.

"What!?" Buffy stopped in the middle of the hall, a look of shock on her face. "Did you -- "

This time it was Will who laughed out loud. "Why would we kill the owner, sweeting? Bad form, that. Besides, 'e died over fifty years ago. Angelus bought the place when we arrived; for a song too, if I remember correctly."

Angelus nodded. "The family was desperate to be rid of this place. They said it was a drain on their resources, not to mention a blemish on their social standing. Ah, well ... their loss," he shrugged.

"And here we are," he announced, as they entered a small, but still formal, dinning room. Buffy glanced around, taking in the dark paneled walls and the heavy furniture covered with gold brocade. However, she was quickly distracted by the food on the table. The wonderful scent of rosemary chicken wafted under her nose, causing her stomach to growl again.

Will smiled, and held out a chair for her. Despite her wariness, Buffy found her hunger a more pressing issue. Once she was seated, Angelus and Will each took a seat across from her. Ignoring them for a moment, Buffy concentrated on satisfying her hunger. The chicken was delicious, and the sauce it had been prepared in was drizzled over a side dish that consisted of roasted potatoes and onions. Warm bread smothered in real butter (Buffy studiously ignored that little voice nagging her about calories and fat) was quickly devoured, as was a gooey confection of brown sugar, sweet cream, apples and pecans. And although not her favorite beverage, she washed it all down with a pot of hot tea.

The two vampires watched, slightly shocked, at the speed at which Buffy ate. Not to mention the sheer amount of food that disappeared from her plate. Buffy looked up to see them staring at her.

"What?"

The two looked from her to the now empty platters, then back to her again. Buffy followed their eyes, then blushed -- but only a little. "Hey, I was hungry, damnit! The last thing I had was dinner yesterday."

"Obviously," Angelus said, his voice echoing the growing amusement beginning to cross his face. "At least you don't pick at your food and pretend to eat, as so many ladies do in this world."

Buffy sighed, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Lots of girls in my world do that too. They think it impresses guys when all it does is make them sick. Not me. If I'm hungry, I eat. If I'm not, I don't. And food plus Buffy equals no more hunger. Simple equation, really."

"Equations?" Angelus questioned. "Am I to take it then, that your Watcher taught you algebra and other advanced mathematics?"

Buffy looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "Giles, teach me math? That would be a resounding no. That is, unless you're talking about the usual 'vampire plus Slayer equals dust' scenario. My high school teachers tried to teach me those things, but it didn't do any good because when I wasn't missing class to slay demons, I was trying to catch up on the sleep I missed when I was out slaying demons. And slaying wasn't to conducive to doing homework or studying, either."

"You went to school?" Will seemed shocked.

"Yeah, I did. Why is that so strange?"

He frowned. "According to that Handbook, Slayers aren't supposed to attend any schools."

Buffy was nonplused for a moment. Then she exploded. "You've seen the handbook?!" Both vampires nodded. "Why is it I'm the only one who has never, ever seen that damn handbook?"

"You have never seen the Slayer's Handbook?" Angelus asked incredulously.

"No," Buffy grumbled, "Giles said he tossed it out within five minutes of meeting me. And with Merrick," her breath caught for a moment on the name, "there was never any time."

There was a story there, Angelus realized. But in the interest of keeping her from becoming hysterical he decided to forego asking. Instead he steered the conversation back on track. "What kind of school?"

Buffy shrugged, and poured herself another cup of tea. "It was your typical American high school. Except it sat right on top of the Hellmouth. Made for a unique experience."

"Hellmouth?" Angelus asked, his eyes narrowing. "You know where it is?"

Buffy made an affirmative noise, and reached for a roll that was covered in sugar and cinnamon. "Yes, I know where the Hellmouth is," she told him, after she delicately wiped her now sticky fingers on a napkin. "I lived there after Mom and I moved from LA."

"LA?" William questioned, as he slipped one of her sugar coated fingers into his mouth, sucking on the digit and causing Buffy's breath to quicken slightly.

"Los Angeles, as in the city in California?" Buffy replied, raising her eyebrows. "That's where I spent the first fifteen years of my life. I've been in Sunnydale the last three years and eleven months. Mostly," she amended. "Even after I graduated and killed the mayor, I ended up staying. I guess deep down I knew I would stay, but after actually getting accepted to Northwestern I kinda felt like going to UCS was a little bit of a let down. But only a little. And the strange thing is, I was really beginning to enjoy college."

At this point her two companions were more than a little flummoxed by her words. They decided to pick apart her statements one at a time.

"I know of Los Angeles," Angelus began. "Here it's a dangerous place full of gamblers, outlaws, spies and anyone else who wants to disappear. Not a pretty place."

"Sounds like fun, though," Will commented.

"Freaky," Buffy muttered.

"Sunnydale? Mayor?" Angelus asked.

"The town where I've spent the last few years of my life. It's about an hour from Los Angeles," Buffy sighed. "The mayor of Sunnydale was a demon, or he became a demon, and he built the town on top of the Hellmouth."

"I see," Angelus murmured.

"What about Northwestern and ... UCS?" Will asked.

"Northwestern is a big, prestigious university that I was accepted to," Buffy told him. "But because I couldn't leave the Hellmouth alone, I ended up attending UCS. The University of California at Sunnydale," she elaborated.

Angelus' brows shot up when she mentioned UCS. "And your Watcher allowed this?"

Will stayed silent. Having seen Giles and the others in the other world, he was curious as to what the various relationships were amongst the people he'd seen.

Buffy sighed. "My life, such as it is, isn't like most other slayers." *Can you say understatement?* She rose from her seat and circled the table, coming to stand in front of a glass cabinet that displayed a silver tea service. "Never has been. From no Handbook to going to school to dating to actually having a life ... and my friends," she smiled wistfully. "Going to college was pretty much what my mother and Giles expected. So, that's what I did. I decided to live on campus in the dorms, though. Willow, my best friend, is my roommate. You probably met her in my world," she told William.

Will looked confused for a moment, before realization dawned. "The redhead," he said. "I thought your Watcher said she was a witch."

"She dabbles," Buffy told him. "Actually, she does more than dabble. Our biggest concern on that front has been trying to turn our friend Amy back into a person again." At their confused stares, she elaborated. "Amy turned herself into a rat to give us a distraction so we wouldn't be burned at the stake -- don't ask," she told Will, who had opened his mouth to say something. "We haven't had any luck trying to turn her back ... I guess Willow's on her own, now. With Amy and the commando guys."

When he noticed the turn her thoughts were taking, Angelus stood and crossed the room, reaching out to grasp Buffy's hand, which he brought to his lips. He smiled down at her, and tucked her under his arm and led her towards the door, gesturing for William to follow. "A walk would not be amiss. The grounds of the estate are quite impressive," he told her.

The grounds *were* impressive, Buffy thought, as she walked down yet another cobbled pathway, snow crunching under her feet. High hedges covered with the white flakes rose some ten feet from the ground on either side, giving the promenade a labyrinth-like feel. Both the vampires had been silent, something that Buffy was grateful for. They were so different from their counterparts in her world ... she wondered if perhaps this was what Angelus was like before the gypsies cursed him. Not exactly, she finally concluded. Here he was focused and determined, more apt to think before acting ... settled, almost; the same was true for William, although she could detect his telltale restlessness just brimming beneath the surface. But it was events that had caused changes in their behavior, she realized. Their need for revenge had driven them to become the masters of almost all of Europe -- and all so they could legitimately, and successfully, overthrow their enemy. No, she suspected that in her world Angelus was probably much more carefree at this time in his life.

The absence of 'acceptable' females in the clan was probably also partially responsible. Without Darla and Drusilla ... they were not starved for female attention, likely just the opposite. But Buffy knew without asking that there were no other vampire females of similar rank. Had there been, she would be at home studying for Walsh's next psych test, not here. The Master had planned on her becoming Angelus' childe and lover ... *Well, he got one part right.*

This Angelus and William were strangers. Granted, she responded to him much as she always had to Angel (with and without soul), but it ended there ... for the most part. This was a new world, and a very different time. She could tell they were used to moving in elite social circles, and carried themselves accordingly. But, despite this, Buffy thought she might know them better than she realized. Surely they couldn't be all that different, could they? Aside from seducing and tormenting young women, and wreaking destruction when they felt the need, she thought their likes and dislikes were probably similar. Already Angelus had expressed a slight displeasure with the 'ladies' of this time, and she could tell William wanted nothing more than to find some reckless entertainment. Perhaps this awkward, settling in stage could be resolved more easily than she had imagined.

For his part, Angelus had been content to observe Buffy. She seemed lost in thought, which was perfectly understandable considering the circumstances. A delightful mystery, his tiny Slayer. And exquisite, even bundled into a long coat to keep away the chill of the night. He wondered when she would ask the questions he knew she wanted to, and he amused himself by trying to imagine her reactions to his answers. Oh, she would be furious, of that he was sure. But he knew she was intrigued by them, and this world, and she would eventually adjust.

William, too, wondered what was going on in her mind. Having seen a brief glimpse of her world, he knew she was in for a shock. *When she gets over this shock.* And knowing the type of person she was, he knew she would not like the restrictions placed on her, not only by Angelus, but by society (human and vampire) as well. From what little he had been told while in the other world, he knew her independent nature would eventually show itself, and he looked forward to seeing how she would handle Angelus' dominance. The ensuing years were going to be very entertaining.

Buffy stopped suddenly, her attention riveted to the sight in front of her. The hedges ended, and a path led down a gentle slope to a stone gazebo that overlooked a small pond. The water was frozen, and the reflection of the full moon on the ice and surrounding snow covered area was so beautiful Buffy found herself blinking. The ice was a mass of silver and white swirls; the gazebo, made of the same white stone as the house, nearly blended into the landscape. Buffy believed nothing could make the scene more perfect.

Then it started to snow. As the tiny flakes fell they caught in her hair, glistening in the moonlight. It's so beautiful, she thought. So perfect ...

She looked over at Angelus, and was immediately stricken with a horrible sense of deja vu. The snow had lingered on him as well, reminding her rather a lot of the previous Christmas and the miracle snow that had saved him from the sun. She felt her throat closing up and spun around, asking, "Could we go inside? I'm a little cold here."

Angelus frowned at the shift in her mood, but decided to humor her. She would tell him everything eventually. "Of course," he said, as they turned back towards the house.

An hour later, Buffy sighed and tipped her head back, allowing the hot water to chase the winter chill from her body. She hadn't thought she'd be able to have a warm bath so late, but Angelus had merely waved his hand. *Of course, they're vampires, they're used to staying up all night.* Just as she was about to reach for the soap, a cool hand slid down her side.

"What the --" she gasped, turning slightly.

Angelus stood behind her, bare chested, but quickly moved so that he was kneeling next to the large clawfoot tub. The expression on his face was unreadable as he took the soap from her and worked up a lather in his hands. He slowly ran his hands over her shoulders, kneading the muscles and causing her to groan. Then he worked his way down her arms, squeezing and stroking, even massaging every finger.

"Lean forward," he whispered.

Buffy complied, and she soon felt warm water being poured over her back. He soaped her back carefully, taking care not to miss a spot. His hands on her back were like magic and she arched, seeking more of his touch. He obliged, and Buffy felt warmth flood her. Her senses were reeling, and she found herself growing aroused.

The feel of water racing down her back brought her back to a hazy reality. Angelus leaned her back, but nudged her until she scooted down some, so that her head rested on an attached pillow. He then drew one of her legs out of the waters, straightening it so that her heel rested on the edge. The feel of his fingers on her legs shot bolts of lust through Buffy, and she sighed. Her memories of the last Christmas had receded completely from her mind, and she was focused only on the fire building between her legs.

Angelus watched through hooded eyes as he finished with her leg and moved to start on the other. The play of emotions across her face was beautiful, and she was so fucking expressive. Every little breath, every twitch or squirm -- it was as if her movements were choreographed to his touch. Every stroke of his hand elicited a new sound, or caused her to arch against him. He was delighted.

Buffy became aware again when Angelus draped her legs over either side of the tub, leaving her open to him. Her breathing quickened, and her center throbbed. Angelus smiled, then leaned down and placed a kiss on her stomach, causing her to whimper.

"What do you want, Buffy?"

She moaned.

He chuckled, "You have to answer me. What do you want?"

She pulled her eyes up to his, desire evident in her hazel orbs. "Touch me," she whispered.

He stroked the inside of her thigh. "Here?"

She shook her head and moaned, "Lower."

Angelus slid his fingers over her swollen labia, ever so slowly slipping a finger inside her. "Here?"

"Yes," she hissed, arching onto his hand.

Smiling, Angelus stroked her swollen flesh, sliding three fingers into her molten core. As her moans increased he thrust his faster, adding a fourth finger all the while allowing his thumb to rub her distended clitoris. He soon found a rhythm, one that built her passion but left her just on the edge of fulfillment. He watched, delighted, as the frustration and need played across her face.

Buffy was in agony. Every touch threatened to push her over the edge, but didn't. He brought her so close, then pulled back. After a particularly sharp thrust, she cried out, "Please!"

"Please, what?"

She whimpered, "Want to, want ..."

"What do you want?"

"Want to ... come," she panted.

Angelus grinned wickedly, and flipped his thumb across her clit. She shrieked, but didn't come. He leaned down and whispered, "Who do you belong to, Buffy?"

Her eyes flew open, surprised. Then he increased the pressure, causing her to twist on his hand, and repeated the question. She struggled against the heavy cloak of desire, trying to gain release.

But Angelus would not be denied. "Who do you belong to?" he growled, his face morphing.

As the crest approached again Buffy gave in and moaned out, "You, I belong to you!"

Snarling, Angelus gave one last thrust and pressed down on her swollen nub. Buffy shattered, screaming as her orgasm swept through her, leaving her body shaking from its intensity. Sensation after sensation flooded her, and she could hear her blood roaring. Then she felt it, his teeth buried in her throat, and she exploded again.

And then there was darkness.

When Buffy opened her eyes, she was no longer in the bath. She lay on the bed next to Angelus, who was leaning on his elbow watching her. His black eyes were fathomless, and they racked over her body with an intensity that disturbed her. He lifted her hand and brought it to his mouth, his lips caressing her as his tongue darted out to taste her skin. She drew in a deep breath, and sat up.

"We really need to talk," she told him.

Angelus said nothing, merely continued to watch her through half hooded eyes. Finally he acknowledged her with a slight nod, and climbed off the bed. Rising, he crossed the room and sorted through the armoire until he found what he was looking for. He returned to the bed and handed her what on first glance appeared to be a mass of satin and lace, but once unfurled was recognizable as a nightgown. Albeit an extremely long and elaborate night gown that Buffy thought slightly resembled a prom dress, but a nightgown nonetheless.

Standing up, Buffy managed to get the gown on. The rose colored satin was smooth against her skin, and rustled slightly as she moved. She settled in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, waiting for him to join her. He sank into the chair opposite her, and reached for the decanter on the table, pouring them both a drink. Buffy picked up a glass and took a hesitant sip, wincing as the brandy burned its way through her system. Carefully, she set the glass back down and looked over at Angelus.

"I realize this a new world – a new time, even – for you," he began carefully. "And you are confused and unhappy, and you miss your friends and your Watcher. I cannot change things, but William and I will do our best to make the pain," he paused, searching for words, "more bearable. In time you will not feel their loss as deeply."

Buffy snorted.

Angelus’ mouth tightened. "Nevertheless, you are here now. And there are certain things you must know."

Buffy lifted her eyebrows in question.

"This," he gestured widely, as if to indicate the house not just the room they were in, "is your home. You may move about it freely, but I do ask that you stay away from the cellar levels; the fledglings sleep there. Everything you need or desire will be yours, all you need do is ask. There are a few human servants here during the day who will see to your needs, and the minions know that they are not to trouble you in any fashion."

Buffy sat straight up. "So, I can do what I want, I just can’t leave the house. Well, that’s just peachy. What happens when I get bored?"

Angelus waved his hand as if dismissing her ‘fear.’ "The library downstairs is full of books. There will be plenty of parties to attend later, and I maintain a box at the opera and the theater. I’m sure you can find a way to amuse yourself. And then there are other pursuits," he drawled sensuously, his eyes devouring her.

Buffy blushed, her skin turning a lighter shade of the satin that covered her body. She knew full well what he was talking about, and she had no doubt she would spend more than a little of her days – and nights – in his arms. The very thought of what he had yet to teach her sent shivers down her spine.

He smiled as she flushed in response to his words. Oh, but she was a treasure. He looked forward to unleashing her inner passions, and showing her the very depths of carnal pleasure.

"There is one more thing," he told her, his eyes dark and smoky. "You belong to me."

"What?" she asked incredulously, her eyes widening.

"No one else – just me. As far as anyone is concerned," he continued, "you’re mine. I had my ‘contacts’ draw up the necessary papers when we arrived. To humans, you are my wife."

Buffy looked shell-shocked. "And what about the vampires? I’m sure they’ll get a kick out of my being a Slayer," she said disbelievingly.

Angelus smirked. "Ahh, but you’re immortal, my precious one. That makes you unique … and a very, very attractive mate."

"So in reality I’m nothing more than your mistress," she said bitterly.

He frowned. "You’re mine, Buffy. Had I been able to turn you, you would have been my childe and consort. The only difference is that you are not a vampire. The minions will treat you as they would have if I *had* turned you. And I can assure you that the marriage documents are perfectly legal. All you have to do is sign," he finished.

"But I’m my own person!" she burst out, rising from the chair to pace around the room. "How can one person ‘legally’ own another? I thought slavery was gone! Surely I have rights …" she trailed off, remembering Whistler’s words. * ‘… in this time women don't have very many legal rights.’*

"But I don’t, do I?" she whispered. "Women aren’t really even considered citizens yet, are they?"

"No," Angelus answered, wrapping his arms around her so that her back was pressed against his chest. "Women are not considered citizens, although there are a great many who are working towards that goal. I really don’t understand why, though. Why should they care?"

Buffy twisted her head to look up at him. "They care, trust me. And we have plenty of reasons."

Angelus frowned. "Is that why you’re being so obstinate?"

She sighed. "Angelus, I was raised in a time when women had rights. We’re full citizens; we can vote, work where we please, join the army, and decide when and if we marry. And our partners do not own us. No one does."

"How perfectly dreadful," was his only response.

Buffy sighed again.

Angelus tightened his arms around her. "You belong with me, Buffy. Even if human laws were different, vampire tradition doesn’t change. Can’t you feel it? The bond between us?"

She was taken aback. "You mean that strange, tingly sensation I get whenever you’re around?"

"Yes," he replied, smiling at her description. "There’s a bond between us because we exchanged blood. That and the mark," he nuzzled on her neck above the almost healed wound, "are brands, telling any vampire you meet who you belong to. You’re mine, Buffy. It’s that simple."

"What kind of bond?"

He shrugged. "It’s a permanent connection of blood. I’ll always know where to find you; eventually you’ll be able to use it to find me. We’re bound together, sweetness. To quote, ‘we’re wed to one eternity.’ Always."

Her mind reeling with the implications, she asked, "What about William?"

"He is my childe, my first childe and my favorite," Angelus told her. "But he belongs to me as well."

Buffy stood still, processing this information. She knew she would have to face the consequences, and deal with this strange, new life, but she was suddenly tired of thinking. Thinking meant remembering, and remembering … hurt.

Angelus squeezed her shoulders, and turned back towards the bed. "The sun is up," he announced.

"I’m not sleepy," Buffy told him.

"I hope not," he growled, spinning her around and tumbling them onto the bed. "But you will be … later."

Hours later, Buffy awoke. This time though, she wasn’t the slightest bit disoriented, and carefully extracted herself from Angelus’ hold. She pulled her gown back on, and a quick search through the armoire turned up a matching robe and slippers. Pulling them on, she slipped out the door and down the hall. Several twists and a flight of stairs later, she found herself on the terrace again. This time the sun shone brightly on the countryside, allowing her to see the true extent of the grounds. As she watched the play of light and shadow over the ice covered trees, she stepped forward.

"Brave new world," she whispered, grasping hold of the ledge as tears streaked down her pale face, and she sank to her knees in sudden realization. "Oh, God, help me," she whimpered.

The sun shone on the ground, and the ice glistened.

But no one heard her cries.

The End