Tick.

The clock chimed once.

William and Angelus lay uneasy in bed, their minds on the tiny blonde in the next room.  She had yet to recover from her ordeal during the battle with Master Nest, and it worried them.  Or rather, her physical wounds had healed ... but she was plagued by nightmares that marked her constant sleep.  She only regained consciousness for a few minutes at a time, and even then her grasp of reality was foggy, as if she was feverish.

And she had been like that for a week.

"Any change?" William asked.

A tall man with graying hair and piercing eyes barely spared him a glance.  "No.  She has yet to fully awaken, and ..."

"And what?" William demanded.

"There are spells that could be used to rouse her --"

"Why didn't you tell me this a week ago?" Angelus asked, his voice deceptively soft as he entered the room.

"Because it would likely damage her!" the man responded heatedly.  "You have assured me she is immortal, and by her accelerated healing I am inclined to believe you.  But to attempt these spells would probably destroy her mind!  Do want her to go mad?"

Angelus stood still, the words striking him to his core.  His eyes strayed to the small form in the bed, tossing and turning in an attempt to escape whatever was plaguing her.  She whimpered, and Angelus was hard pressed to remain calm.  Seeing her frail and helpless reminded of the night three weeks prior when she and William had disobeyed his orders and gone into town.  After the fight that had ensued, she had asked a question that, especially now, resounded in his ears.

//"Do you want me to be another Drusilla?"//

"No," he whispered, as much to himself as to the others.  "But surely there is another way to end this sleep.  You are the best occult physician in Britain or on the Continent, Dr. Rayne.  Find another solution," Angelus commanded, before taking up his place by Buffy's bed.

Jacob Rayne sighed.  *Vampires ... why are they always the hardest to deal with?*

Angelus sat by Buffy, keeping watch.  Strange, that the fiercest demon in Europe could care so much, especially for his mortal enemy.  But Slayer or not, she was his.  His lover, his consort, his Childe ... his Buffy.  It was odd, he reflected, that in barely two months she was just as much a part of him as William.  Not so odd, he realized.  Thinking back to William's disappearance for the first time, he realized that he had felt her even then.  From the moment she entered this world, he had known.  Not necessarily who or what she was, but that he was being pulled towards something.  And when he discovered that this tiny Slayer had belonged to him before ... it was too much.  In that instant he had known he would never let her go.

But now something was trying to take her away from him.  Something had happened to her; a spell, perhaps, though none of their castings indicated that she'd been exposed to any magic.  He knew that Nest's mind control didn't work on her like it did so many others ... something to do with her death ... yet she lingered in this state.

Angelus was angered beyond belief.

And scared.

Tick.  Tick.

The chimes of the clocks in the house sounded, the peals reverberating off the walls.

Silk sheets twisted, and were pulled loose.  Her skin was flushed, and soaked with sweat.  Buffy tossed and turned, trying desperately to escape her memories from that night.

But she had yet to succeed.

Vampire fought vampire.  They were well matched, but Angelus and his 'allies' had the upper hand.  All this Buffy knew, even though she could see none of it; sometimes Slayer hearing was a godsend.  Other times ...

She jerked her arms, trying to free herself from the chains.  Thirty.  She had taken down thirty vampires all by herself before being hit from behind by ... something.  After awakening from the blow to the head she'd received, she'd found herself trussed up in front of the Master.  He had smirked, and had his lackeys chain her to a wall, using magically enhanced manacles.

Then he had sent them back to the battle.

He smiled as he approached her.  "What a pretty little Slayer ... all tied up with nowhere to go," he crooned.

Buffy glared.

He laughed.  "Oh, what fun we will have."

"Oh, yes, fun," Buffy snarled.  "Turn me loose and I'll show you fun.  All I need is a broken chair leg and a sledgehammer.  Come on, we'll have a blast.  Or I will, anyway."

The blow to her face cut off her flow of words.  "Silence," he hissed.  "I would have thought that Angelus, traitor that he is, would have taught you better manners.  Of course, I'm still not completely sure why he simply didn't turn you ..."  He tipped his head, as if in deep thought.  "Unless he was keeping you alive for a constant supply of Slayer blood.  But he has drained countless others of your breed ... you must be sweet, hmm?"

Buffy said nothing.  To an extent, that was true; Angelus did feed from her, albeit during sex, and it did enhance his own power.

Something must have showed on her face, because the Master laughed again.  He pulled a dagger from his boot, and proceeded to cut through the linen shirt she had commandeered from William.  That task accomplished, he ran the sharp tip down camisole underneath until he exposed her breasts to his depraved eyes.

The Master took in an unneeded breath.  Lovely did not even begin to describe her; eyes the color of jade, her golden hair spilling messily over her shoulders framing her pale, rose tipped breasts.  Luscious, delectable, exquisite ... powerful.

The call of her blood was too much.  He lifted his hand, stroking her bare chest.  Suddenly his talonesque nails sliced through the skin of her breast, and he lowered his mouth.

Buffy shuddered in revulsion as she felt his tongue lapping at her blood.  *Oh, gods, someone, help me!*

He lifted his head, mocking yellow eyes meeting hers.  "God isn't here, little one.  I am.  And before this is over you'll crave my touch," he told her, before returning to nurse at her breast.

*NOOOOO!*

"NOOOO!  NO!  No, no, stop!  STOP!"  Buffy screamed, coming awake and sitting up in bed.  Angelus was at her side before she could finish, pulling her close trying to ascertain whether or not she was really awake, or if this was just another of her 'spells.'

"Make him stop," she sobbed, collapsing against his chest, her body shaking .  "Please, Angel, make him stop!"

"Buffy," he asked, grasping her face in both hands.  "Who is it?  What does he do?"

Buffy whimpered, her voice hoarse.  "The Master," she whispered.  "He hurts me ... make him stop ... please ..."

His eyes flashed and his face morphed, but Angelus just wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and rumbled deep in his chest.  He purred for her until she calmed down, and raised his eyes to William, who stood in the doorway.  William slowly crossed the room to where his Sire held their distressed lover, being careful not to upset her by his presence.  But she barely noticed, and merely continued to sob.

"Well?"

"It's a normal sleep.  Whatever it is that has been plaguing her for the past week appears to have disappeared, at least for now," Jacob Rayne told them.

"What was it?"

The doctor sighed.  "I honestly cannot say.  There is no indication of genuine physical ailment, or of magical intervention ... "

"But ... ?"

"It might be that she ... I mean ... she may have ... "

"WHAT?"

Best to be blunt.  "Could she have been raped?"

Eyes flashed.  "She wasn't.  I would know if he had done so."

"You and I both know there are other ways."

"His mind-control wouldn't work on her."

"Still, he could have hurt her.  She heals fast, almost faster than a vampire."

A third voice.  "She did say he hurt her ... "

The doctor was startled.  "What?"

"When she woke up crying, she said he hurt her.  She wanted it to stop."

A new thought.  "I suppose it's possible ..."

Growl.  "What is possible?"

"This is just a theory ... she could have seen something, or been forced to watch something.  The sleep could be a ... what is that new term so popular on the Continent?  Oh, yes.  A coping mechanism.  It may be that she slept as a way to escape what she saw."

"And the dreams?"

Shrug.  "Most humans dream while sleeping.  But instead of escaping from her memories ..." he trailed off, the rest obvious.

Silence.

"And when she wakes?"

"Be as gentle as you possibly can.  Let her recover.  She'll be ravenous, I'm sure, but make sure ... never mind.  I'll talk to the cook about her meals; after all, she hasn't eaten in a week.  But above all else, get her to talk about what happened -- but tread lightly."

Heavy sigh.  "Thank you, Doctor Rayne."

Two weeks later, Buffy sat eating her dinner of creamed chicken and potatoes while watching the sunset.  Such beautiful colors, she thought.  All those oranges, reds and yellows streaking the sky gave her a sense of contentment.  But not peace, she realized, because she still had nightmares about that night.  *Or should those be daymares?  Whatever.*  And she knew, deep down, that she needed to talk about what happened as much as Angelus needed to hear it.

A rustle behind her made her twirl around, coming to rest in a modified battle stance.

*It's just Hiroshi, you ninny!*  He had been surprising, to say the least.  She knew as well as anyone that Nogunara had perished during the battle, having seen Nest kill the him with her own eyes.  However, she had never imagined that Angelus would demand that Hiroshi act as her bodyguard rather than his.  And, according to William, he would also be the one to help her resume her training once she was ready.

Thinking back to That Night, Buffy felt her anger rising.

She was more than ready.

"I'm ready," Buffy announced an hour later, having stretched and changed into a pair of pants and a shirt of William's.

Hiroshi nodded his assent, but kept his opinions to himself.  If she was ready, so be it.  If she was not, then they would soon know.

Choosing quarter staffs, Buffy assumed a defensive position.  Hiroshi followed suit, and both stood there for moment, each waiting for the other to make the first move.  All of a sudden the tension became too much and Buffy struck out, going on the offensive.

THWACK.

Hiroshi parried perfectly, his staff blocking hers.  Buffy delivered a few more strikes, all of which were blocked effortlessly.  This went on for an indeterminate amount of time until Buffy was ready to burst.  After another flurry of parries, she finally stopped and faced him.

"Why are you only defending?  Why won't you attack?" she demanded.

"You are not ready," he said.

Buffy's mouth dropped open and she fumed.  "How dare you make that assumption just because --"

"You have yet to make a move that I cannot counter," he told her.

"So what?" she replied belligerently.

Actions speak louder than words, so Hiroshi twirled the staff and swept her feet out from under her before she could blink.  Buffy landed hard, the shock evident on her face.

"Were you ready you would have anticipated and blocked that move," Hiroshi stated.  "You did not, therefore, despite your abilities, you are not ready for offensive training."

He had turned to replace his staff on the wall when Buffy made her move.  Embarrassed and angry, she turned his move back on him, but aiming for his knee instead.  The sound of her staff as it connected with his knee was gratifying, but what gave her a large happy was the look of surprise on his face.  Raising her eyebrows, she struck again only to be met with another block.  But this time it was different.

THWACK.

THWACK.

THWACK.

Over and over they exchanged blows, both attacking and both defending.  Still, Buffy was unable to land  another blow.  She wasn't gaining any ground.

But neither was Hiroshi.

They continued in that fashion, their blows becoming more and more vicious as time passed.  She thrust, he blocked; he thrust, she blocked.  Again, and again, and again, unaware that they had attracted an audience.

The session finally ended when Buffy, tiring after an hour of blows, succumbed to one Hiroshi's thrusts and, once again, landed on her bottom.  Panting slightly, she looked up to see Angelus and William peering down at her.  William face reflected a slight concern mixed with amusement, but Angelus was harder to decipher.  As William helped her to her feet, Angelus spoke briefly with Hiroshi.  Whatever was said must have satisfied him, because the two parted without a trace of animosity.

Crossing to where William was supporting Buffy, Angelus cupped her face in his hands.  "Now then," he started, "are you ready to talk?"

Buffy inhaled deeply.  "I don't really want to," she told them, "but I think I need to."

Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

Four chimes sounded.

The fire crackled, and Buffy sat next to it wrapped in a blanket.  William had seen that a pot of lemon tea -- well laced with honey and whiskey -- was brought up for her, along with a bowl of something warm and smooth, but not too sweet.  It looked and tasted a bit like a cross between oatmeal and cinnamon pudding, though, and felt good considering the flip-flops her stomach was doing.

A half hour passed before she spoke.  "You know," she began, "that I was doing okay.  I mean, I managed to take out thirty by myself ... oh, gods, that felt wonderful ... Faith was right about that, but I'm straying.  Not long after the thirtieth I was hit from behind, and when I woke the Master had me chained up.  We were in the upper caves, you know that, in his personal rooms.  When I woke up he was ... gleeful, I guess is the word," she shuddered.

"He cut my shirt and camisole off ... used his nails to cut my breasts ... he put his mouth on me," she recalled, her body shaking so hard the tea was sloshing out of the cup.

"Sweeting, if you don't want to do this," William started.

"No, no," Buffy interrupted, "I *need* to get this out."

She took another big breath and exhaled before continuing ...

He eventually tired of sucking her blood, and went on to other ... pursuits.  Turning her around, he covered her back in lashes from his whip.  Buffy stalwartly bore the blows, refusing to cry out.

CRACK.

The first blow landed, making her wince at the sound the whip made when it connected with her skin.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

More blows.  She bit her lip and closed her eyes.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

She felt her skin split and choked back a sob.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

Now she could feel her blood running down her back.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

CRACK.

"You're bleeding, Slayer," he whispered.  "Beg me and I'll stop."

"You won't stop," she rasped, "you ... enjoy ... it ... too much."

He tossed back his head and laughed.  "True, but you bruise and bleed so nicely.  No wonder Angelus has guarded you so closely," he mused, his fingers tracing the welts forming on her back with his nails.  "You'll bend, but not break," he realized, an evil gleam lighting his eyes.  "How wonderful."

"I think," he told her, turning her around again and pressing her back against the cave wall, making her hiss, "it's time to change tactics."

"And he did," she told them, as she finished her cup of tea.

"What happened then?" William prompted, pouring more tea for her.

He smirked as he watched her eyes widen in understanding.  "I keep them around," he told her, gesturing at the human girl at his feet.  "She broke quite easily, almost too easily.  Breaking them is the best part ... seeing how long it takes until they'll do whatever you want, whenever you want.  Finding out," he whispered, "how well they perform, how far you can push them before they're useless ..."

Buffy swallowed a scream; no sense giving him more ammunition.  She watched, horrified and repulsed, as he pushed the girl over the side of a table and brutally fucked her in the ass.  When he was finished, the girl sank to her knees beside him and pulled his still hard cock into her mouth, sucking voraciously.  He thrust himself roughly into her mouth and she, despite her distinct need for air, didn't stop.  In fact, she even raised her hands to fondle his balls.  After he came, he shoved the girl away and kicked her in the ribs.

He looked back over at Buffy, relishing the emotions that she was unable to repress.  "She's good for that," he said dismissively as a minion dragged the girl away, "but not much else.  Far too easy ... "

"You, on the other hand, will fight me, will you not?" he asked, stroking her lips with his thumb.  "You'll fight, then surrender for a little while ... but then you'll fight me again.  I'll get to break you over, and over, and over again," he told her, his overwhelming lust causing his features to twist into something truly hideous.

Buffy's thoughts were swirling around at the moment.  Heedless of the danger, when he swiped his thumb over lips again, she open her mouth and bit down.  Hard.

"Bitch!" he swore, jerking his hand back.  "I see I'll have to teach you manners."

"And you'll do this, how?" Buffy quipped.  "Emily Post you're not."

Before he could respond, the sound of heavy fighting reached them, coming from the next room.  Swearing again, he turned and picked up a sword and walked out into the fray, being sure to lock the gate to the cavern before he left.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Buffy saw a flutter behind the wall hangings.  From out behind popped a tiny person, who she vaguely recognized but couldn't place.  He scurried around the room, finally coming up with a set of keys.  As he came closer Buffy frowned; he *was* a vampire, she could feel him, so what ... ?

Then it clicked.  "Dalton, right?" she asked.

He nodded, unlocking the manacles as he spoke.  "Yes.  When I saw them take you I followed.  Master Nest barely notices me; says he can barely sense me, somedays."

Without the chains to support her, Buffy slumped forward.  Dalton gave her steadying arm, averting his eyes from her exposed chest, only to gaze with horror at her back.  His expression was enough for Buffy.

"It looks worse than it feels," she lied.

He gave her a look.  "I doubt that," he said as he shrugged out of his overshirt.  "You didn't cry out once, though, and I didn't try to stop him, so I won't say anything more," he finished as he helped with the buttons.

"If you had interfered, we wouldn't be having this conversation," she said bluntly.

"You're right," he acknowledged.  "But somehow I feel ..." he trailed off, confusion marring his features.  It was at that moment that Buffy realized why the Judge had consumed the little vampire in her world.  Despite being a demon, he was all too human.

"One more thing," Buffy said hoarsely.

Dalton raised his eyebrows.

"That table," she gestured.  "Can you break it?"

The little vampire shrugged, and did as she asked.  Buffy surveyed the rubble, and fished out a broken table leg.  At the look he gave her, she replied, "Insurance."

Shaking his head, he gestured to the drapery.  Pulling them aside Buffy saw a small passage that led out of the room.  Dalton led her through making sure that she didn't trip, and they emerged on the edge of a much larger cavern where the battle was raging.  From her vantage point, Buffy was treated to the sight of Nogunara fighting the Master.  Moments later their feud was over, Nest having used a momentary distraction to behead his opponent.

As the Japanese Master dissolved into dust, Buffy caught sight of Hiroshi.  The samurai looked stunned for a moment, and would have attacked Nest had he himself not been set-upon by three more vampires.  By the time he'd dusted them, Nest was halfway across the room.  During his quick visual search, Hiroshi saw Buffy leaning on Dalton and carved a path to their side.

The samurai took one look at Buffy and drew his own, completely accurate, conclusions.  They would have fought their way to the main entrance had Nest not spotted them.  He roared in anger, and quickly pushed through the crowd to reach them.

Hiroshi, remembering his blood oath, pushed Buffy behind him as they continued to move.  By the time Nest reached them, they were in the thick of the fighting.  Nest went to grab Buffy but, despite her injuries, she managed to squirm away.  During the scuffle Hiroshi gained his bearings, and stared at the Master who had killed his Sire.

Nest looked at the samurai.  "I suppose you want ... satisfaction," he sneered.

Hiroshi barely nodded, and the fight began.  They traded blows, swords clashing while all around fighting still raged.  The sheer volume of vampires forced the two combatants to the fringes, which actually proved to be a good thing.  As they reached the edge, a stray minion stumbled into Nest giving Hiroshi an opening.  Although the blow the samurai landed did not kill his opponent, it did knock him down.  The minion, seeing his Master down, immediately engaged Hiroshi and soon others joined in the fracas.

However, before Nest could react Buffy was hovering over him.  "When this is over," he hissed, "you're dead.  Somehow, someway, you'll be dead."

A strange look crossed Buffy's face, and she smirked.  "Deja vu," she muttered.  Raising her voice, she continued.  "Dead or not, it doesn't matter.  At least I'm still pretty, which is more than I can say for you."  And with that, she planted the broken table leg right through his heart.

By this time, Hiroshi had finished his opponents.  Turning, he found Nest on the ground with a table leg projecting from his chest, and a fiercely triumphant smile on the Slayer's face.  She looked over at Dalton and asked, "Got a sledgehammer?"

Confusion marred their features before Dalton shook his head.  "No, but --"

Before he could finish, Hiroshi raised his sword and said something in Japanese that Buffy didn't understand before sweeping his katana down, firming severing Nest's head from his body.  As the Master slowly turned to dust, his horrified minions abandoned the battle and ran.

Buffy looked at the dust and sneered.  "Loser."

Dalton snickered.  Hiroshi, well, it was hard to figure him out.  Shouts could be heard from the entrance to the cavern, and Buffy twirled when she heard Angelus' voice.  Too late she realized her mistake.

"Oh, gods, somebody stop the floor."

Then there was nothing.

Buffy was cradled against Angelus' chest as he purred, trying to calm his shaking lover.  As her breathing returned to normal, she shrugged.  "The rest you know.  I really don't remember anything else until I woke up crying two weeks ago."

The two vampires were silent, each processing what she had told them.  Dalton had told them about the physical torture, not they hadn't seen the results themselves.  Why the scholarly vampire had omitted the rest the was unclear, but in the end, Angelus decided, it didn't matter.  Buffy was alive, and Nest was dead, his clan decimated.  Perhaps it was just as well, considering the carnage that had followed as they had destroyed all of Nest's followers.

Coming out of his contemplation, he realized that Buffy had slipped off to sleep.  He glanced at William who picked her up, carrying her to her bed.

Angelus just sat, and stared into the flames.

It shouldn't bother me; I've done what Nest did to Buffy and that girl to others.  Hell, I've done *worse.*  I'm the Scourge of Europe, damnit!  Seducing, raping, torturing, maiming, destroying lives ... it's what I'm known for!  I enjoy it!  Pity about that girl, though, he had her well trained; we found her dead later on -- blood loss and starvation.  And the few humans left alive ... they made a nice repast after the fight.  Most didn't even struggle; Nest always did know how to break a person ...

So why did it bother me to hear her tell the story?

Perhaps because it was MY Buffy that was hurt and abused.  Surely it can't be anything else.  I'd engage in such pastimes even now, and could care less who I hurt in the process.  I hunt every night without qualm.  Hell, I do it with a song in my heart.  It's fun!  Yet, something keeps me from those delicious pastimes.  Is it Buffy?  If so, why?

Angelus stared into the embers of the fire.
 
It is Buffy.  I'm afraid of her reaction.

I don't want her to reject me ...

Angelus found her tucked into his bed, the silk sheets framing her warm, flushed skin.  He sank down beside her, stroking her soft flesh.  She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and he leaned over to brush his lips against hers.  It wasn't a kiss of carnal pleasure, but one of comfort and reassurance.  His hands slid down her arms, and she shivered.

Pulling back, he looked at her.  "I want to touch you, my love," he whispered.  "May I?"

Buffy looked deep into herself.  The events of the past few days had left her emotionally drained, but she felt something stirring deep inside.  Not just lust, though that was there as well.  Slowly, she nodded.

"Will you stop if ..." she trailed off.

Catching her meaning he smiled.  "Yes, but this is for you, not me."

She smiled then, and lay back.  His lips slid over hers again, before trailing down her neck and shoulders.  He suckled at her breasts until each nipple was pebble hard, and she whined in need.

Dark, fathomless eyes caught hers as he parted her thighs with his hands, and lowered his head to her mound of curls.  Softly, he blew across her outer lips, causing her to whimper as his tongue darted out to taste her essence. As she moaned, he began to lick his way around her outer lips, sucking up the juices that escaped. Slowly, ever so slowly, he moved towards her center.

The past and future fell away until Buffy existed only in the present.  Nothing else mattered, just the sweet pleasure he was giving her.  He swirled his tongue inside her, and with every stroke it seemed she grew wetter and wetter.  Her soft folds plumped up, until Buffy thought she might explode.

"Angelus ..." she whimpered.

He raised his head, a question in his eyes.  She met his gaze and whispered, "Don't stop ... please, don't stop."

Rumbling deep in his chest, Angelus moved to take her swollen bud into his mouth. He licked at it, teasing it with the tip of his tongue and one of his fangs before sucking it into his mouth.  Buffy cried out as he hummed against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and he finally gave in, gently biting down on the tender pearl.

Buffy shattered, her orgasm ripping through her, sensation after sensation pulsing through
her body.  As he continued sucking she exploded again, tears leaking from her eyes from the sheer depth of her release.

Angelus moved back up her body, peppering her face with tiny kisses as he pulled her close.  Even through the haze of exhaustion and satiation she knew he was aroused, and moved as if lower herself onto him.  He shook his head.  "No, my love, this was just for you.  Don't worry about me, just rest."

She looked at him incredulously, but then her look softened and she curled up against him, accepting this strange mood as the reasons for it dawned on her.  Within minutes she was asleep, her breathing soft and even.

William smiled from his vantage point in the doorway.  He crossed the room quietly, sliding into the bed once he had divested himself of his clothes.  He gripped his Sire's cock, sliding his hand up and down its length, causing the older vampire to hiss in pleasure.  Within minutes Angelus came, and his Childe leaned down to clean him.  Angelus looked at his Childe, who merely shook his head.  "Later," he whispered, kissing his Sire.  Then they curled up, one on either side of Buffy, and let her soft breathing lull them to sleep.

And today there were no dreams.

 

The End