"Crap," Hank muttered and turned the TV off, tossing the remote down by his feet. Sundays really weren't days for spectacular programming and, aside from a peculiar show about a girl facing the forces of darkness (whose lead actress bore an uncanny resemblance to his daughter) there was nothing that drew his fancy.

Of course, his lack of interest may have been due to the unpleasant rumblings of his stomach--a symptom that had only worsened since he'd been in Sunnydale.

A sigh followed Hank's furtive glance at the reddish glow of the digital clock. 1:17. Less than eight hours before he had to take the short drive across town back to Revello for a meeting he dreaded more than any court case. And this particular opposition? A five-foot and some-odd inch girl barely a hundred pounds and her taller, lankier sister.

His two girls.

The older man shook his head. His two girls that he hadn't been a father to for how many years now? Last time he saw Dawnie, she was barely four feet tall and now she looked down at Buffy. He missed so much of their lives and for what? Following a woman around that, in the end, left him for someone younger.

"Poetic justice, Hankie, that's all it is." Couldn’t do much about it now except atone and taking Dawn, giving her a father was the only way he knew how to do that. So maybe they had to go to LA, but it's not like it was that far away. Two hours tops. So why was Buffy making a big deal about it? It wasn't going to be a permanent setup anyway; yeah, he hadn't told Buffy that because he really didn’t know exactly how temporary the conditions were to be. A year? Two? Of course, by then Dawn would be of age and probably out of his life at her behest. And if that happened…if that happened…

A knock on the door startled the lawyer from his thoughts and Hank sat up, not holding back the scowl that painted his weary face.

"Who the hell could that be?" he asked and searched the room for some type of weapon. He settled for grabbing one of his dress shoes and cautiously approached the door as a second knock rang out.

"Who is it?" He called out, surveying the visitor through the peephole. The large frame of the man on the other side of the door and the poor lighting obstructed Hank's view and he could only identify generously gelled hair and a black leather coat. The other man's jaw was cut as if from stone and Hank's heartbeat picked up a few paces at the sight of a man who looked like nothing more than some gangster's muscleman.

"Mr. Summers," the voice was cold, unfriendly, "This is Angel, a friend of Buffy's. I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

"About what?"

"Buffy." The slight softening of the other man's voice tipped Hank off that the thug and Buffy had, at some point, a special relationship. Coupled with that Spike character and Pike from LA, her taste in men rated quite low on the scale of parental acceptance.

"What about Buffy?"

"Mr. Summers," Angel said and his voice had risen a tad in irritation. "Let me in so we can talk."

Hank chuckled. "Did Buffy send you? Ask you to convince me to change my mind? What is this, my little girl hiring thugs now to date her? First that bleached punk and now you." Hank jumped back when a growl reverberated on the other side of the wooden door but quickly righted himself. Puffing out his chest, he said, "Okay, you tried. Run along and tell Buffy that, okay. And I'll see her tomorrow."

"Mr. Summers…"

"I said leave. I don’t want to call the police."

"Mr. Summers," Angel said and there was no mistaking the venom of his words, "it would be in your best interest to open the door."

"Or you'll what?" Hank challenged and backpedaled into the room.

"Trust me, Mr. Summers, you don’t want to piss me off anymore than I already am." Hank gasped and his heart refused to beat for one excruciatingly long second. In his career, he had faced off with some of the worst people the world had produced. Killers, rapists, armed robbers; they all talked tough and though many of them could back it up, he never really feared for himself. Partially because of the safety around him but mostly because the consensus of a bark being worse than bite was true. That didn’t mean that Hank hadn't met anyone that scared his shitless, cause he had. But this guy, this Angel, his voice tore into the lawyer much the same way Spike's eyes had bore into his soul a week ago. He truly believed that Angel would back his words and Hank found himself in a quandary. Let him in and take chances or call the authorities, which, by the time they arrived, could be sweeping Hank parts off the wall...

As if walking towards execution, Hank trudged towards the door. He ignored his shaking limbs as he unlocked it and pulled open his only shield.

The full site of Angel was even more menacing than his voice and Hank squeezed the shoe in his hand. Angel's eyes followed Hank's trembling hand and smirked, though there was nothing friendly about the gesture.

"I don’t think you'll need that."

Hank glanced down at his hand and threw the shoe back into the room.

"Invite me in," Angel said.

"Huh?"

"Please don’t make me repeat myself." Hank nodded and offered the man entrance. A coldness swept across him as Angel walked into the room and Hank Summers knew that if Angel wanted to do something to him, he would be helpless.

"Now," the young man said and folded his arms across his chest, "like I said, I'm a friend of Buffy's. You and me, we need to talk."

~~~

"Damn it," Xander swore, "where the hell could she be?"

"Those lil slayer legs can move real quick, Xand. Especially for B."

Xander's frown faded slightly and his eyes traveled over Faith's leather-clad legs. "Like those stork limbs of yours, huh?"

Faith stuck out her tongue. "Bite me, Harris. Scratch that, lick me."

The brunette man shook his head. "You sure are innuendo filled today…hmmm, I wonder if it's a slayer thing."

"No, that would be beating vamp's down and, right now a second slayer's boyfriend is gonna get his ass kicked in the near future."

All levity drained from Xander's body and he tensed with anger, loosening a bit when he jogged after Faith. "That bastard. Wait till I get a hold of him."

"Ready to test out those super powers of yours, huh," she said and scanned the streets.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I've already told the gang about 'em but they haven't…hey! Is this a diversionary tactic to get me away from the kicking of Spike's ass?"

"Yep," Faith said unabashed. "Let's head towards Restfield."

"Faith, she's upset. Do you really think she'd go to slay after seeing her lover macking on a complete hottie from out of this world?" His eyes widened as the words left his mouth and he didn’t have to see Faith to know that he was as good as staked.

"You know," she said calmly (too calmly), "after this is done and I lay the smack down to blondie, me and you baby are gonna have a little chat."

"I was just sayin' sweetie," Xander said as they ran towards Restfield.

"And I was just saying," she interrupted, "that we're gonna have a little chat." Faith stopped abruptly and grabbed Xander by the arm. Before he could protest, her lips were on his and he moaned as her tongue demanded his attention. It lasted only a minute before she pulled away and gave his burgeoning erection a tweak.

"You're gonna learn some respect." She slapped him lightly in the face and took off for the cemetery. Shrugging his shoulders, Xander again followed, a little less mad but still looking forward to the confrontation with a particularly annoying and unfaithful bleached blonde.

~~~

"Whoa, luv," Spike said and pushed the woman away for the sixth time. "Ease up now."

Morrigann simply smiled. Although his hands kept her lips from his, nothing could separate the undulations of their lower body as she ground against his erection, pressing him into the wall of the abandoned building.

"What, Spike?" She whispered, smirking when he shivered at her voice. "I thought said you and your ex were done." Spike lowered his head, trying to hide the shame and grief but she saw it. "I just want to make you feel better."

"Thanks, pet," he muttered and caressed the side of her face, "but not up for the whole cheer me up routine." He grunted when she squeezed his bulge.

"I think parts of you are up quite enough. And I think they'd like to be in something, too."

"Morrie, what are you…?" Spike never finished as Morrigann grabbed his hand and slid it underneath her skirt. She didn’t even need to prod him as two fingers slipped into her already wet channel. "God, you are so hot. Pussy so tight." His other hand gripped her ass and Morrigann shivered at the imminent orgasm that…

"Spike!" She screamed and her body spasmed. Her nails dug into his shoulders, impaling the leather of his coat. Her head fell to his chest and she raised her leg and glued it to his hip, riding out the after crests of her peak.

She glanced up when Spike growled. His cerulean jewels had disappeared, replaced by the bottomless voids of his lust-filled gaze. A muscle in his jaw ticked and she knew that he was still fighting her charms. His will is great, she thought. In truth she intended to fuck him on the table in front of everyone. As easily aroused as she could become and though she had seen his face in a vision, nothing had prepared her for the sheer beauty of him up close. Add to that the feel of his muscles, the taste of his lips and tongue--only Gabriel and the power he bled into her could compare to this wanton sexual attraction that she had. Even without the plan, she would have seduced and bedded him.

Which is taking a bit more time than I thought. The resilience of the man before her was uncanny. Aside from Frost, who wanted no part of her touch, no man had ever held out so long from her feminine wiles, not even Gabriel. One kiss was generally all it took to have a man at her mercy. And Spike's resistance only made her crave him even more.

"Bloody 'ell," Spike moaned and tried to push her away. Morrigann chuckled. Each push had less conviction behind it than the previous. He was weakening and though she wanted him now, an idea flashed into her mind and the succubus smiled.

"What's wrong, lover?" She cooed in his ear, lapping at the tender flesh just below his jaw.

"I need to go," he muttered, his breaths coming in uneven gasps, "I need to see my girl…"

"I'm not holding you down," she said and nipped the other side of his jaw. The hands that were at her waist cupped her breasts and Morrigann knew she almost had him. But there would be no fucking tonight. No, she could wait. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t give him a going away present.

"Morrig…what are you doing?" But it was too late. She'd already fallen to her knees, dropped his pants, freeing his aching cock and took it between her heated lips. Spike's cries of ecstasy only quickened her pace and her fingers kneaded the cool flesh of his ass.

"Please, don’t…" he whimpered and his helplessness drove her on. She took it all in when she felt him start to shake and her second orgasm began to approach. "Stop, please…Morrigann…please don’t…Morrigann!" The feral cry of her name, hands tangled in her hair, pushed the succubus over the edge and as he filled her mouth, her legs quivered at her release.

Morrigann recovered first, standing on wobbly legs and tucking Spike's flaccid member into his pants. She smiled and licked her lips, temporarily satisfied. Spike refused to look at her. She slipped a finger under his chin and noticed the watery gaze that flitted over her face.

"What's wrong, lover? Did I not please you?" She slid a hand under his shirt, maximizing contact to further her influence.

"It's not…it's just…" He took a deep breath. "I just soddin cheated on my woman."

"The woman who blames you for her sister being taken away?"

He shook his head. "No, that's…no…I have to go. Please, get off." Morrigann shook her head. Still, after making him come he had yet to totally succumb. This calls for drastic measures.

"How about this," she said and kissed him chastely on the lips. "I let you go but we meet again tomorrow night. Say, the cemetery?"

Spike shook his head. "I can't. No…I can't…"

"Well," Morrigann said, "guess we have to do this the hard way." Without warning, her fangs elongated and she bit down on his exposed neck.

Spike groaned, at first in shock and then bliss as Morrigann drained his blood, leaving the essence of her power in its place. As they fell to the ground, the blonde vampire in her arms, the succubus laughed. He had resisted her thus far but he would never be able to overpower the spirit of lust now flowing within his veins.

And come tomorrow night, she'd have him in bed and a nice surprise for that uppity little slayer.

~~~

"What do you want?" Hank asked and took a seat on a chair, making sure to keep his distance from the vampire.

Angel smirked. He could taste the other man's fear and, try as he might, couldn’t hold back the gleeful roar inside as the demon sampled the potential victim. "I told you, I want to talk to you about Buffy. And, more specifically, Dawn."

"What is it your business? Buffy and Dawn are my children, not yours."

"If that were the case, then where have you been the last five years?" Hank sagged but held his chin high, defiant. The other man's pride, unable to admit his wrongdoing, infuriated the vampire and Angel roared. He crossed the room before Hank could move and slammed the other man against the wall.

"What the fuck…?"

"Listen to me you egotistical, arrogant bastard. You don’t know the hell your daughter's been through since she's been here. You don’t know her successes, her failures, her fear or her accomplishments. You didn’t even have the decency to show up when Joyce died. You never sent a card or flowers, either. Buffy was alone. Her friends were here but they couldn’t help her." Angel lowered his voice, ashamed to admit it but said, "I couldn’t help her. And you know what? As bad as last year was to her, this past year was even worth.

"Pay close attention, because I'm only going to say this once. Buffy has done things for us, for this world, that you couldn’t believe. She's faced down things that even on your worst nights you couldn’t imagine. She didn’t choose to do it, but she does it anyway. She's one girl in all the world and she's saved our asses more times than I can count and maybe half a dozen people will ever know that.

"She doesn’t get paid for it, she doesn’t get a slap on the back or paraded around the city. But that doesn’t stop her from going out there every night. That doesn’t stop her from risking her life, for giving her life…so that we can live."

Angel lowered a terrified Hank to the ground and wiped his eyes. He took several steadying breaths before looking back up to the shaking man. "I love Buffy, always have, always will. At one time I loved her more than words could ever explain. And I hurt her. Hurt her as bad as any man has hurt her. The only person that has come close to hurting her like that is you."

"But I…" Hank trailed off and refused to make eye contact.

"You don’t have to tell me, I can see it in your eyes."

"I didn’t mean to."

Angel laughed mirthlessly. "But you did. Doesn’t matter what you intended, your selfishness hurt Buffy more than you know. The question is, do you care."

The vampire saw the fire that lit behind the other man's hazel eyes and he was reminded of the woman that had held his heart for so long.

"Of course I care. Do you think I enjoy being the louse that I've been in the past six years? Breaking promises to my sweet girls, not being here with them? Every time I look in the mirror, I'm reminded of what I did to my three girls and it won't go away." Hank slid down the wall and dropped his head in his hands.

Angel squatted in front of the shaking man and cocked his head to the side. He waited until Hank's teary eyes stared back at him before he spoke. "I've found that words are just that, words. I told Buffy once that I would always be here for her and, when we found out I couldn’t be there for her the way I wanted, I left. It wasn’t until later that I realized how badly I'd hurt her. I didn’t mean it, and I did it under the guise of being noble but it wasn't noble. It was selfish. I couldn’t have all of her so I didn’t want any of her. I never tried to look for a way around the impediments, you know why?"

"It was easier to just go away…" Hank whispered.

"Yeah. And I lost her. We still talk, still cordial, but it's not the same and it will never be. I love someone else now and so does she. But there will be a part of me that will always love her and another part that will always feel guilty for leaving her.

"I was her first love. I can never make up what I did but you can. You may have been gone from her life, Hank, but she does have a father figure. A man that will do anything for her, just like I will; just like her friends. You can't take his place, so don't try. But you can become a part of her and Dawn's life again. But not like this, not by forcing them into something they don’t want."

The tears flowed freely down Hank's face and Angel finally understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his girls or didn’t care. His problem was pride and an inability to touch that soft part of himself reserved for 'Daddy's little girls'. But as Hank cried silently, Angel hoped that he could find it for Buffy and Dawn's sake.

"I just want my girls back," Hank whispered and closed his eyes.

Angel put a hand on the other man's shoulder and softened his gaze when their eyes met. "Then talk to them; be honest. Don’t let your pride get in the way. You've already lost Joyce and I know the guilt of not being there for her will haunt you for the rest of your life, trust me. Don’t let that happen with Dawn and Buffy."

Angel squeezed Hank's arm gently before standing. He walked out the room, his chest a little lighter. He'd never told anyone the guilt he still felt, and always would, for deserting Buffy. He had never gave their love a chance to overcome his curse and would never know if it could've been possible. True, he had Cordelia now and despite his burgeoning affections--no, love--for her, there would be that part of him that even she could not touch. It was and always would be reserved for Buffy.

He was walking through the door when Hank called his name.

"Yeah?"

Hank stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. "That guy, the other one at the house…"

"Spike?"

"Yeah, him. Is he the one that Buffy loves now."

"That would be him," Angel replied, barely holding back the growl.

"Well, I don’t like him."

That made the vampire chuckle. "Well, join the club. No one really does, except for Buffy…and Dawn."

"So…so he's good to her? Good to them?"

"Yeah he is." Angel sighed and said, "Unlike me, Spike'll stick around come hell or high water."

"He won't hurt my girls, will he?"

"He'd give his life before willingly hurting them." Hank nodded and Angel walked out the room, closing the door behind him. But before the lock clicked into place, his vampiric hearing picked up the lonely whisper of Hank Summers.

"Well," the voice said, "he's better than me already."

Angel got in the car and drove away. As the wind greeted his face, he allowed himself to finally admit that the disdain he had always held for the platinum blonde was not contempt but envy. Spike had always transcended what was expected of demons. He did it while running with three of the most vicious vampires to ever roam the earth and he did it now, at Buffy's side. Even with the soul, Angel didn’t think he could have pulled it off.

William, my boy, he thought as his drove through Sunnydale. You're better, all right. You're better than us all. Just take care of her.

"Like I never did."

~~~

By the time they reached Buffy, Faith saw the resignation in her sister slayer's posture. Gone was any spark, be it exhilaration or anger, replaced by the downcast guise of a woman thoroughly defeated. Her left arm hung limply at her side, covered with some bright sheen that looked very much like ice. The right side of her face was bloody, her hair matted with the red ichor. A short demon, whose eyes glinted with anticipation of the kill, raked its claws across her midriff and Buffy screamed. Her retaliation was automatic, smashing her knee to the demon's face, sending it to the ground. But as she held her stomach, another creature--it must have been hidden by the tombstones--crept up behind her. It lifted an arm that held not a hand, but a metallic object high, ready to strike the unsuspecting slayer.

"Buffy!" Faith yelled and lengthened her strides, leaving Xander even further behind. Her scream caught the attention of both combatants and Faith saw the eyeless visage of the attacker. It smiled at her before lowering its metallic arm and Faith noticed a bluish-green fire simmering from the steely surface before Buffy slammed her heel into its side.

By the time Faith was in fighting distance, the blonde had collapsed to one knee. Sliding in front of the injured slayer, Faith pulled a dagger from her waistband and glanced at the demons that were beginning to recover.

"B, you all right?" Faith bit her lip when she saw those hazel eyes overflowing with tears and grief beyond what the brunette slayer had experienced, at least from the angle of love. "It's okay, B," she said, not knowing what else to say. "Let me take care of these Piranha-faced fuckers and we'll get you taken care of."

"Don't bother, Slayer," the eyeless demon said, massaging its ribs, "we have no life quarrel with you."

"Life quarrel?" Faith asked, her hand still on B's shoulder. "What the fuck is that? Some Klingon ritual? Whatta ya know? Even demons have their Trekkie dorks goin' for wholesale. I think there's a convention in LA next week; maybe you two should check it out…Oh, my bad, you'll already be dead."

The shorter demon, with its obsidian hair blowing in the wind had joined its trench coat wearin' brethren. Faith comments didn’t sit too well with short stuff and the taller demon held it back.

"Watch it, bitch," it said, its voice somewhat nasally, not at all like the smooth, rough tone of the other one. "Ask that slayer bitch in your arms; if we wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

Faith sneered. "Lotta talk comin from you, ankle biter, but I see no action. What? Your boy need his seein' eye dog to hold on to?"

The resounding growl warmed Faith's blood and she rose to meet what was inevitably gonna turn into a good old-fashion donnybrook.

"Stand down, D'bahn," said the icy voice of a third party. Faith whirled around and saw a man dressed in complete white glide (she had no other word for it--it sure as hell wasn't walking) towards them. She frowned at Xander's ashen, yet resigned face as he, too, approached.

"Uh, sorry, Frosty," Faith said and contained a shiver. "But Christmas ain't for another couple of months. Though his mouth was covered, she knew he smiled when the crimson black eyes turned up slightly.

"I've never had the pleasure of meeting a slayer," he said and regarded the two women with curious eyes. "Not counting Seth's once whore." At the casual reference to her daughter, Buffy jumped to her feet and Faith was thankful that the other slayer was weak cause there was no way in hell to stop that hundred pound powder keg once she got started.

"You speak that way about my daughter again," she spat through clenched teeth, all the while Faith holding her tight around the waist, "and I will tear your fucking heart out."

The man bowed in supplication but more surprisingly, he said, "My apologies. Far be it from me to make light of the misfortunes of a prisoner abused by her captor. There is no honor in that; that is the principle reason why I take no prisoners." He cocked his head to the side. "Isn't that right, Alexander?"

Faith stared at her boyfriend, who lowered his head and said nothing.

"No matter," the man said, "he knows what I mean. As I said before, this is my first opportunity to meet such warriors that slayers are renowned to be. It will be a pleasure to engage you in a battle to the death when the time has come. Alas, that time is not upon us and shall not be for some time."

He nodded at his two companions and strode off into the night, stopping several yards away as the other two demons walked on. "Make no mistake," he called over his shoulder, "you shall see us again. And we shall duel. But death shall not come for you until He permits it."

Faith watched as the sparkling white of the man disappeared into the trees. When he was out of sight, Buffy's tense body sagged and Faith barely had time to catch her before the both tumbled to the ground.

"B, you okay." But Buffy said nothing. She wrapped her good arm around Faith's neck and cried into the brunette's awkward embrace. The other woman followed her instincts and patted the distraught Buffy gently, stroking the tendrils of blonde hair out of her tear-streaked face. "It'll be okay, B," she whispered, "I'm here, everything's gonna be okay."

She continued her litanies of comfort and when she braved a look at her boyfriend's face, knew that all her words and assurances held no truth to them. If tonight was anything to base the future upon, shit was about to fall into the realms of a serious cluster fucking of the likes they had never seen. And where the old Faith would have been indifferent to the potential death and chaos, this particular version, the new and improved Faith, was scared shitless. Back then, when she was in league with the Mayor, she'd had nothing to lose. One look at Xander and the subsequent feelings that roiled in her gut--feelings that continued to grow each day--Faith knew she had everything to lose.

When she realized that her tears commingled with Buffy, Faith understood that, no matter how dedicated she was now to Xander and the Scoobies, even if she gave her all against the coming storm, it might not be enough. And if that was the case, she prayed she was the first to go when the badness finally claimed them. She may have been strong, but there was no way in hell she could watch them taken from her. Cowardice or not, it was the truth. She only hoped it never came to that.

She wouldn’t count on it, of course; hope had a way of bailing when you needed it most…

TBC in Estranged…

Severed Ties

The distant thunder in his head refused to abate and the longer he ignored it, the faster it closed the gap. After several minutes, it was the only thing he heard.

"Bloody hell," Spike said and massaged his temple. "Could someone please turn off the sodding fireworks." He opened his eyes and squinted into the darkness. As he adjusted to the darkness he saw the flecks of light that trickled in through the…where the hell was he?

A quick glance around the room and he knew exactly where he was: one cozy little crypt.

"Home, sweet, home," he mumbled and swung his legs off the tomb. His knees buckled when he tried to stand and the vampire leaned against the concrete structure, waiting for his head to stop swimming. "What the bloody 'ell happened last night?"

Ignoring the stake firmly lodged between his eyes Spike shuffled a few feet away from the tomb. His legs were still weak--as if he hadn't eaten for a few days--but he didn’t topple over. When he thought about it, Spike realized that it had been almost two days since he had eaten and even then it wasn't enough to sustain him for a day.

"Well, objective one has been determined," he mused and shuffled over to the battered fridge. He opened the door and saw that the pint he bought from Willy's was a little more than a swallow by vampire's standards, but it was the only thing he had. "Bottoms up," he said and devoured the life-giving fluid in a single gulp.

"Now," he said, ambling towards his favorite (and only) chair, "let's see what's on the telly." Twenty minutes into 'The Price is Right', Spike felt the discomfort in his neck, which, earlier, had taken a backseat to the pounding drums in his head. But without the terrible hangover being so…terrible, the slight throb made itself known. He massaged his tense muscles and was going to pass off the displeasure as a kink from sleeping the wrong way on the crypt. That was until his fingers slid over two small pinpricks.

"What the bleedin' 'ell," he shouted and jumped to his feet. His first instinct was to run for a mirror but that was quickly squashed. His fingertips traced the healing wounds and Spike didn’t need a mirror or anyone else to tell him what had happened.

Some putrid vamp bit him.

"When I find that bugger," he roared, searching his mind for a clue on his violator. Oh, no, pain wasn't going to be the answer. He was going to deliver the most vicious, gruesome torture session since the Angelus's spree in Germany in 1895. No, it was going to be even worse than that. The bastard would beg for mercy, he'd keep the tosser alive until he got bored and even then…

It came out of nowhere.

"Oh, God," he whispered, dropping to his knees. Last night returned with a fury, obliterating his thoughts of vengeance. Image upon image of the night's events played through his mind in glorious Technicolor. How she had nearly bloody jumped him in front of the entire Bronze. How he'd told her things about Buffy as they walked the streets of Sunnydale, ducking into an alley when she'd offered to show him something. Oh, she showed him something all right. She'd pressed him against the wall, raped his cock with her lips and tongue, drinking his essence down. He'd tried to fight her but he couldn't. And then, she'd bit him…she drank for what seemed to be hours and he'd grabbed her ass while she did it, whimpering, begging her to stop. Only Angelus had made him feel so powerless, taking his body whenever the elder vampire wished those first few years of unlife. But even then Spike had fought, been beaten and then used. She never tried to force him. Still, it was something he didn’t want. He had Buffy for pity's sake, and she--Morrigann--still bent him to her will. No, he didn’t want to do it; he told her to stop countless times, he tried to push her off, he…

…Loved every second of it.

As the remembrance of the pleasure the woman--vampire? --Had given him surged throughout his undead veins, Spike threw up what little blood was in his stomach. He dry heaved for several minutes, ignorant of the tears of rage and shame blurring his vision. He gasped for unnecessary air and when his lungs capitulated, he whispered to the empty crypt words that would haunt him the rest of his existence.

"What have I done?"

~~~

Her eyes traveled between the two sibling demons, their attention fixated on the heated center of her splayed legs. She stroked herself, delicate fingers caressing the unquenchable throb of her sex. The short bastard, D'bahn, grunted her name, intermingling several obscene suggestions as to what they could do to her. The talk only excited her more and when her fingers slid into her moist center, Morrigann cried out and rode the wave of ecstasy. The sight of the room's other two occupants ejaculations spewing from their engorged cocks only added to her arousal and she cursed, knowing that only one thing would alleviate the pulsing need that was always a part of her.

"Did you hear me, bitch?" D'bahn shouted and slammed his fist into the bed. Morrigann jumped but quickly righted herself. She glared at the heavily panting demon and rolled off the bed.

"Gee, D'bahn," she said, flouncing to the closet in all her naked glory. "Why don’t you yell a bit louder, I don’t think they heard you in Quortoth."

His steps were heavy and he walked over to her, stopping just before their flesh made contact. "Let us fuck you, succubus. You know what we could do to you, make you come and shiver for days. Look, look at this." She glanced down at his impressive member, one that had yet to lose its rigidity, even after his orgasm. She licked her lips and turned her back to him, sliding her arms through the maroon blouse. Its back-less nature allowed her wings to breathe and, if she decided to use them, wouldn’t ruin another shirt.

"That is quite handsome, Zidiahni. It would fit quite well, although," she murmured and bent over at the waist. Her hands squeezed the ripe flesh of her ass and she chuckled to herself at twin groans that sounded behind her. "But I bet you'd have to push real hard to get it into my tightest hole."

Wood shattered and Morrigann turned towards the sound. The normally calm M'ul Aut held a generous portion of the headboard in his one good hand and the slit where his eyes should have been thrummed with a hazy energy.

"It is not wise to tease us, Morrigann," he said, his usually smooth voice rough with need. "I like to think myself a master of my own flesh but, alas, I am a demon. There is only so much I can take."

"So what are you trying to say?" Morrigann asked and shimmied into a pair of black hip huggers.

"You know what we're saying, woman," D'bahn said. He sneered, displaying his brilliant rows of teeth and Morrigann shivered at the violent undertones shuttling through the room.

"And what are you going to do about it?" She mewled and slid her fingers down her pierced belly and into her unzipped pants.

"Nothing," a cold voice announced and the three occupants turned towards the door.

"Frost," D'bahn whispered. Morrigann heard the disdain in his voice and hid a chuckle. She finished dressing, carrying her ankle boots to the bed, pleased that even Frost could not completely avert his eyes from her sashaying hips.

"Well, well," she said and sat down, tugging her boots on. "Frost finally joins the in crowd. So, Frosty, what brings you here?"

"You know why I am here, woman." His crimson eyes fell across the two Zidiahni, who avoided his gaze. "I know about your power, succubus, and I will not allow our Lord's plans foiled because of your inability to keep your legs closed."

Morrigann was on him in the blink of an eye and she hid a smile at the gasps of surprise that filled the room. She raised her finger to his face and she laughed aloud when he flinched.

"Yes, you do know my power, Frosty, and you know what I can do with that. Not even you, with your holy principles of honor could resist. I could have you on your knees begging for me to let you taste me if I wanted." She closed the distance and though he was still, she could hear his hearts beating faster than normal. "And all it would take, oh great warrior, would be a single touch, a single taste of my flesh. Remember that." She turned from him and pulled her hair over one shoulder. Flexing the muscles in her back, she winced as the tattooed wings came to life. They were transparent in nature yet stronger than mesh steel, acting as weapons when the need arose. And from the respect that lined Frost's eyes, her message had been received.

"Don’t forget, boys, I am a lieutenant of Gabriel, just as you are. Do not make the mistake of underestimating me because I am a woman. I may lay on my back often, but you must ask yourself; when I am in that position, who is it that truly has the power?"

Silence descended on the room and she left the three males staring at her wake. Her lips turned up in a smirk. She knew exactly what Gabriel wanted; she would not ruin it because she needed the release of her throbbing hormones. She had enough control to avoid that. But what she didn’t have was the delicious vampire from the night before. Indulging in his body, on his blood, would not corrupt Gabriel's plans. In fact, it would even expedite his timetable. So, yeah, she would have her Spike, every inch of him. He would beg for her, do anything she asked him.

"But for now," she said and glanced at the three naked men tied to the pillar. "You three should sate me until I can have my alabaster god." She drew fingernails across one terrified man. His breath hitched as the blood pooled from his wounds and when her tongue raked his flesh, he instantly calmed and his desire was visible.

As she pleasured the three, feeding off the lust generated by the coupling and then their blood, Morrigann focused on the image of the platinum blonde. He had resisted her for quite some time before succumbing and though his will intrigued her, she refused to be satisfied with anything other than his complete subjugation. She would have William the Bloody; she would have his mind, his body and his demon's spirit.

And there would be nothing he could do to stop it.

~~~

It took six tries before Spike was able to get up, the burning sensation in his gut frying all neural activities. His eyes had remained on the stone floor beneath him. It was better this way; if he didn’t move--didn’t think--then maybe the events of the night before would disappear. Maybe it was just a bad dream, some sick vibe from the ether fuckin his mind up and showing him the impossible. He would never cheat on Buffy. Never. Nothing could make him do such a thing; no matter how brassed off he was at her. He loved her more than life itself and would do anything for her, even if it were to stay away.

But he surely wouldn’t cheat on her.

Several hours and two packs of Marlboros later, Spike stood outside 1630 Revello. His hands shook as he stared through the window. It looked as if everyone was present and accounted for, though he had yet to see Buffy through the curtains.

"How am I gonna tell her this?" he asked the twilight sky. No answer was forthcoming and his shoulders slumped. This was not going to be easy.

He shuffled towards the door and immediately changed his route, slipping to the back of the house. Coming in through the kitchen would be much easier; he wouldn’t have to answer the questioning gazes that would surely intensify the guilt that already threatened to overwhelm him. His hand touched the knob and he stopped; the fear in his blood screamed at him to retreat. Even the demon bade him not to enter the house but Spike ignored it all. Sure, she may stake him and her friends would be all 'We told you so', but he would meet it head-on.

"Here goes nothing," he said and pushed the door open.

And walked right into World War III.

"You're a fuckin liar!" Jay's voice cried from the living room.

"Jay," Giles said, "why would they lie about it?"

"Because they hate him. You all do…except for Dawn and Tara, nobody here likes him."

Must be talkin' bout me, he thought wryly before he sobered. From the sounds of the conversation, tempers were high, but what had he done? They couldn’t have known about his infidelity, could they?

"Look," it was Peaches. "Spike's a demon, Jay. Very unique as far as demons go and you know how sensitive he can get."

"So you're saying he did it?"

"I didn’t say that. What I'm saying is that you should keep an open mind. When Spike gets hurt, he lashes out without thinking. And this may have been the case."

"Didn’t look like it to me," Faith muttered. What the bloody hell was goin on? Spike crept a bit closer towards the room, peeking around the corner. They were all there. Xander and Faith leaning up against the wall, angry scowls etched on their faces. Giles sat in the recliner, glasses in hand, refusing to look at a particularly livid Jay who stood in front of him, arms crossed.

"Well, Faith," the young woman's voice was filled with a dangerous version of Buffy sarcasm, "considering that you're always looking at my Mum's men, who knows what you actually saw."

"And I suppose I was seeing things, too, huh Jay?" Xander asked and pushed himself from the wall.

"Xander," Cordelia said. She sat on the couch, next to Willow and Tara. Angel stood with his hand on her shoulder and Spike slipped around the corner when his Sire's brow scrunched in concentration.

"No, Cordy," Jay said, "let him talk. I mean, from what I understand, Xand, you've been tryin to get into my Mum's pants for how long now? And you haven't got far have you?"

"Jay, that's not fair," Willow said.

"And this would be the perfect opportunity to get her…"

"Jay…" Faith warned.

"…cause you know, if Daddy did that, she'd be all hurt and in need of comforting…"

"Jay, please," Giles said. "This is unnecessary."

Tara spoke up for the first time. "Don’t, Jay. We're not gonna gang up on him. We'll hear his side of the story."

Xander snorted. "I already know the bastard's side of the story. Tonguing it with a Cyndi Lauper wannabe when the woman he supposedly loves is crying her eyes out, nearly getting herself killed."

"…and this is the perfect chance for you, huh. Can't get to her unless she's defenseless."

"You know I'd never do that," Xander shouted.

"So when you cradled her in your arms, carried her upstairs, you mean to tell me you didn’t get a hard-on? And don’t lie to me, Xander; remember, part vampire here."

Xander sputtered and Spike glanced around the corner. The whelp and his daughter were toe to toe now and if it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, he would have found it quite amusing.

"I have Faith now, Jay," Xander said, his voice eerily calm.

She shrugged. "So. You had Cordelia, too and look what happened there…"

"Jay," Willow said but she was interrupted when Faith's palm slammed into the petite woman's face.

"That's enough," Spike roared and rushed to his daughter's side. Her face was set in a harsh scowl and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But when she saw him, the floodgates burst and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Daddy!" She cried, burying her face in the cotton of his shirt. Spike wrapped the young woman in a leather embrace, blocking out the accusing stares that burned through his cold flesh. He kissed the top of her hair, whispering comforting endearments that only a Daddy could.

When she had finally calmed, Spike pushed her away and nearly choked at the trust and loyalty in the cerulean green eyes. He brushed the residual tears away from her cheek and stepped back.

"It's not true, Daddy, is it? Xander and Faith didn’t see you doing that, did they?" Jay's pleas broke his heart. She sounded so much like a child, not like the twenty-three-year-old warrior she truly was. He wanted to coddle her, tell her that he didn’t do that, anything to wipe that look of reserved despair from her eyes. But more than that, he wanted to tell her the truth.

"Jay…"

"C'mon, evil undead," Xander taunted, "tell her how you didn’t shove your tongue down that woman's throat."

"Xander," Angel warned and grabbed the brunette's shoulders. "Let Spike explain." Brown eyes turned towards the platinum blonde and any bravado he had disappeared under Angel's heavy gaze.

"Daddy…?"

"Bitlet, I…" but he couldn’t finish, the guilt burned a hole in his vocal cords, rendering him mute. He hung his head, refusing to look up even when he heard the horrified gasp and the shuffling of feet that was quickly followed by front door nearly torn from the hinges.

Spike reeled from the slap and stared up into Dawn's hurt eyes. She had been silent during his eavesdropping but his wordless confession had drawn her ire.

"You bastard," she spat, "how could you?"

"Dawn, I…"

"She loved you and you betrayed her like this?" she shook her head and let out a hoarse laugh. "You know, I didn’t say anything cause I didn’t think I had to. Jay was there for you, defending you. Hell, even Angel gave you the benefit of the doubt…" She stopped and wiped her teary face. "I trusted you Spike. Not with my life--I still do, I think--but I trusted you with Buffy's heart. I knew you'd never hurt her like Angel or Riley or, hell, our Dad. But you did. I hope you're happy with yourself." And with that Dawn left the room. Her heavy footfalls sounded all the way up the steps before they disappeared.

"Guess the wonderful Spike isn't so wonderful after all," Xander snorted.

"Xander, that's enough," Giles said and stood. He approached the vampire and Spike's shoulders slumped. Here it comes; stake to the chest. Rupes'll do it well.

"While I do not know the circumstances of your behavior, Spike, I do know the ramifications of your stupidity." Giles closed the gap further and Spike saw the glint of Ripper behind the glasses. "I love Buffy--we all do--and we abhor her in pain. Even more, we detest those that cause her pain. And since now that person is you, might I suggest you vacate the premises before I resort to actions that, albeit may be justified, we shall all regret." His peace said, Giles turned his back and that hurt Spike more than the vampire thought possible.

Spike's eyes brushed across the room and memorized everyone's face. Xander's disgust, Faith's anger, Willow's anger and confusion, Tara's sympathetic frown. Cordelia scowled at him, a mannerism imitated by his Sire.

"Guess this is goodbye then," Spike said and started for the door. "I'll be around, still, until this is taken care of. Just let me say my peace to Buffy."

Before the room could interrupt in protests, Angel grasped Spike around the collar. "No, you won't, Spike. Not now. She's hurting and going to see her now will only hurt her--the both of you--even more. Get out of here. She'll see you when she's ready."

He dropped his hand and Spike was almost to the door when Angel called him. "Oh, and Spike?" The blonde didn’t turn around but felt Angel's cool breath on the back of his neck. When had he even moved? "We will settle this up, you and me. Don’t doubt that."

Any snarky retort died before it was formed and Spike walked out of Revello without another word. He shivered when the door slammed shut. It was eerily familiar to the feeling that ran through him; like he'd just been closed out on the only things worth living for.

~~~

She knew he was there before they did. Even with cries drowned out by the pillow she muffled her sorrow with Buffy still felt that tingle at the back of her neck when he stood outside her window. Although a part of her wanted to see him, needed to feel his arms around her, the other part, the scorned part of her, hurt so much by men, wanted nothing to do with the bastard.

"Go away," she murmured into her pillow. The distance between her and the others muted their words but she heard the raised voices and when the door slammed, she knew Jay had left. Several minutes later the stomping of a certain brunette's feet sounded throughout the house and Buffy almost chuckled at Dawn's behavior. When the door opened, Buffy feigned sleep. Dawn crept into the room and stared over the motionless slayer. After several minutes she leaned over and kissed Buffy on the cheek.

Buffy sat up when Dawn's own door clicked shut and glanced around the room. Willow and Tara had given it up to her after she'd come home from the hospital but it had only been a temporary thing. But last week the two had told Buffy of their plans to move out after this latest threat was settled. Although she was sad, the prospect of her and Spike having their own room made up for that. In fact, they had already planned how they would christen the room as their own. But now all her dreams had been crushed by one moment of indiscretion that had probably turned into something more when she left.

I should've confronted him she thought and stood up. Aside from the pain that lanced through her being, the guilt for not talking to Spike, letting him go and probably…sleeping with that other woman, was her intimate companion. It must have been her fault that he went to someone else. After all, they always left her and she had given Spike his fair share of reasons this past year, including her behavior when her father was here; he'd only been trying to help and she dismissed that. No, it was definitely her fault.

She walked to the window, her step devoid of any spark. That spark flared when she saw him looking up at her. His posture matched hers exactly; hands at his sides, shoulders drooped and the despair washing off him in waves. Buffy's first instinct was to go to him, to hell with what she saw. She wanted to hold him and give him her love. She wanted…

No. It didn’t matter what she wanted anymore. As if from the ether, her spirit returned, full of fury. Spike had hurt her in the worst way possible and he wouldn’t get her sympathy. It was his fault, his fault damn it, not hers. She was a good woman who deserved to be treated right and she wasn’t going to let some undead bottled blonde make her doubt herself.

An eerie calm settled over Buffy and she cast forth her most menacing glare. If possible, Spike's shoulders sagged even further and before he turned away, Buffy thought she saw tears cascade down his cheek. She refused to acknowledge it, however, and stared at his retreating form, the familiar hard shell heart driving away the grief. But even as Buffy allowed the slayer part of her access to the woman, something in her screamed that it was a mistake. It wasn’t the slayer that would win this battle but the woman whose heart belonged to a soulless vampire. And without that human part of her, everyone on the planet was going to live the rest of their lives in a world of pain and misery.

But for the first time in her life, Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, didn’t give a damn.

TBC in Shallow Cuts…

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