Chapter Nine








"Did you feed, kid?" Whistler asked after the four of them had settled into Spike's DeSoto.

"Me?" Xander asked as he lifted his head off Buffy's shoulder.

"Yeah you."

Xander nodded, but not before Buffy caught the flash of pain that crossed his pale features.

She rubbed his arm supportively, inwardly wondering when she became the impromptu counselor of the ensouled creatures of the night. Three years with Angel, she answered herself. "Anyone you knew?"

She watched his face ripple in pain, his demonic features only visible for a few seconds, before becoming human again. "Harmony," he whispered as he stared down at his hands. "Angelus had her there—waiting. Faith brought her."

Buffy bit the inside of her cheek as a shot of guilt ran through her. Her job was to protect…her job. She glanced over the car seat at Spike; silently wishing he was there by her side instead of driving. She turned and faced her friend. "It was the demon, Xander. Remember that." She watched his eyes shut as fresh blood tears ran down his face. God, where was Willow when you needed her? she asked herself as he squeezed Xander's shoulder, pulling him back into her embrace. She sighed, thinking of blood and two vampires and her house and once again looked up at the blond vampire. "Spike, how much blood is left?"

He turned and met her eyes. "Two bags, luv."

She nodded; knowing another stop at Willie's was in order. "Can we—"

He chuckled softly. "On my way there now."

She shook her head. Scary—we're even thinking alike. Maybe that's why we never could defeat each other…"Xan?"

He looked up, game face on and met her eyes.

Smiling gently, she touched his ridges.

"Oh," he mumbled, closing his eyes in concentration. Seconds later his human face returned.

She took a deep breath and continued. "I'm sorry that we have no Angel to instruct you on the delicacies of ensouled vampiric living, but I'm sure that Whistler," she paused nodding at the demon, "and if you're real nice, Spike, will help you."

He frowned, staring at the blond vampire's head and shook his head.

"What?" she asked.

"Why, Spike? What's the deal? I had to listen to Dead Boy bitch for hours today about your betrayal, all the while Dru was crying and throwing a fit."

Buffy saw Spike flinch and felt her shoulders tighten in empathy. It would be a long time before either of them would be free of their former loves.

"Angelus," she heard him spit out. "That's what bloody happened."

"He's the one that helped me last year with Acathla," Buffy said, rescuing the elder vampire. "And when Dru had a vision a few days ago about Angelus' return, he came to either stop it or help me kill him."

Xander nodded, obviously understanding. "Angel—he's crazy. You know that, don't you? Not just evil, but is really missing a few screws."

"I know, mate," Spike said as he pulled the car over and put it in park. "He was last year as well."

Buffy glanced out the window and saw that they were parked in front of Willie's.

"You want to come, Slayer?" he asked as he turned and met her eye.

She nodded and opened the back door. Before closing it, she stuck her head back in. "We'll be right back. We're just going to pick up some dinner for you," she stopped and gave a glance at Spike, "and hopefully for Blondie as well." She grinned, knowing before he even said a thing, that he was preparing to argue with her. Something familiar, she thought to herself. And somehow, arguing with Spike is comfortable.

"Now, Slayer. I'm not going to bag it. I've already told you that, so you can bloody well forget it!"

"I'm the Slayer!" she said, slamming the car door shut. "How the hell am I supposed to allow you to feed?"

"The same way that I allow you to live!" he shot back.

Even a week ago that sentence would send her in a tailspin, making her just itch to stake the irritating vampire. But now, she just smirked back at him, making sure he caught the dramatic roll of her eyes.

One thing she had to say, Spike was fun and kept her on her toes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's with those two?" Xander asked as he listened to the two blondes bicker all the way to the entrance of Willie's bar. He picked up a few stray phrases with his enhanced hearing: 'no innocents' by Spike and 'no killing' by Buffy being tossed back and forth as if they were participating in a tennis match instead of talking. Reminds me of Cordy and I. Before, he thought to himself

"They're a trip, aren't they?" the demon asked Xander. "I'll tell you, no one, except maybe the Fates themselves, expected those two to team up. Heads nearly rolled on that one."

Interested, Xander scooted forward. "Why?"

Whistler grinned as he turned to the young vampire. "'Cause, Spike has no soul, kid. The only times a Slayer and Vampire ever joined forces was when a soul was involved."

"Like me," he whispered, watching the demon nod in agreement. "It was Willow, wasn't it?"

Whistler's eyebrow arched. "Who else? Same crew that did Angel last year."

Xander nodded, falling back into his seat as he closed his eyes. Angel. Every time he heard that name, he felt his demon howl in frustration for being so far away from his sire—his power source. Why me? he asked himself.

Because, you fucked Faith, he answered himself.

Shaking his head ruefully, he thought of how much his life had changed in the last 24 hours. Was it just last night that Oz and Willow dropped him off at home after a strange and emotionally draining night at the Bronze? Everything they did the night before—from the dance with Buffy to Oz trailing Faith—had been to bring Faith's loyalties out into the open.

Unfortunately, for Angel and Xander, it seemed that Faith and the mayor were one step ahead of Slayer and company. The joke, as it was, was on Xander and Angel.

Xander's eyes snapped open and watched Whistler. "Why didn't you curse Angel too?"

The demon grimaced as he looked down at his hands. "Couldn't, kid. The soul isn't a rubberband that can snap back in place with a few chanted words. This last time was it. If we had cursed him again, it would've destroyed his soul. This way, when we dust Angelus, his soul at least will be free to be reborn or whatever."

Xander shuddered silently, thinking of how much Angel's soul must be in agony. Hell, the prick hadn't been back two hours before he made a bloodbath out of Xander's home.

The picture of his dead parent's would haunt Xander for the rest of his unlife. Angelus had been beyond cruel—with Dru egging him on and joining in on the festivities. And Xander couldn't help but feel responsible. If only he hadn't screwed Faith, then maybe she wouldn't have been in his bedroom the night before…waiting for Xander to come home.

He had been ambushed. When Oz and Willow had dropped him off, the farthest thing from his mind was Faith. As he closed the door and flicked the porch light on and off, all he wanted to do was go to bed. The past week had been hell. Between failing that history test on Thursday, to worrying about Faith, to having to watch Cordy and Wesley the Wonder Wimp unbashingly flirt in front of him, he was exhausted. Not to mention what that dance with Buffy had done to his hormones. It took him nearly two months to recover from the last one. Who knew how long this one would take?

The next morning, he was going to breakfast with Will—his touchstone—to unwind and find himself once again and just like the past eight Saturday breakfast's, he was looking forward to it.

For nearly a year, since he and Cordy had begun dating, he felt Willow and his relationship falter. No matter how hard he tried not too, he couldn't seem to stop taking advantage of her friendship and the security she represented in his life. After Jesse's death, Willow had been the only good, lifelong stable thing in his life and he guessed, somewhere along the way, he began to feel she'd always be there.

Then they kissed.

And a part of his heart that he hadn't even realized was missing seemed to come home. Was this always meant to be? That was a question he asked himself thousands of times since Homecoming. Or would it have been all three of them—that when everything was said and done, Jesse, Willow and him would join together—confirming themselves—rejoicing in their deep friendship?

Xander knew he wasn't in love with Willow—but he did know he loved her with all his being. It was the most pure thing in his life and he almost blew it.

So, the breakfasts were a good thing. It anchored him in a way nothing else could. It was with that thought, that he entered his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him, that kept him preoccupied enough not to notice Faith until she was nearly liplocked with him.

He had been in the process of taking off his tee shirt when she stepped out of the shadows and in front of him.

Wary, he just stood there and said nothing. He had no idea what had happened earlier with Angel—so her allegiance was still up in the air. And Xander knew first hand that a pissed off Faith was a dangerous Faith.

It was that inaction that cost him his life.

Still silent, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his tense body into her embrace. While her tongue had been down his throat and his cock had hardened to nearly painful proportions, Angelus and Dru had crept out of his closet and had come up behind him.

The first inclination that he had that something was off was when he felt a hard cock rub his ass and cool, feminine fingers caress his neck.

That was the first time Xander had been raped—by either sex.

Luckily for him, he passed out after the third round of 'Let's Fuck With Harris.'

Xander could see with his mind's eye Dru and Angelus sharing an especially bloody kiss after Dru nearly tore off his nipple with her fangs.

Xander woke up tied up in the living room—just in time to watch Angelus and Dru play switch the body parts with his parent's bodies.

He fainted that time, but unfortunately not soon enough to for that memory of his mother's drunken screams to haunt him for eternity as Angelus sawed off her breast with a dull butcher knife.

He could still see Angelus standing there, above his parent's corpses, in the bloody remains of the Harris' living room, as he licked the knife clean of the blood.

Even Faith looked a bit peaked.

Xander woke up once while he was being carried firearm style over Angelus' shoulder. He managed one good kick in the prick's gut before Faith knocked him out with a stake.

The next time he woke up was in the mansion, naked, with two vampires and a slayer having sex.

He tried getting away, but Angelus had posted some nameless vamp at the door.

He was drug back into the bedroom, thrown unceremoniously onto the huge, king-sized bed and shown just what vampires do to their good little human playthings when they interrupt their sexual playtime.

He nearly lost his other nipple that time.

Unfortunately for him, it was that interruption that brought all three of his captor's attention onto his present state of living.

After one last bloody round of sex, Angelus finally drained his broken body. By that time, Xander hadn't any will to refuse anything—so when the vampire brought his mouth to his cool chest where a cut had magically appeared and said, 'drink!'

Xander drank.

The rest, as they say, is history.

"Kid! Are you okay?"

Xander shook his head as if he could push those memories away and nodded. "Yeah, I'll be okay—after I get to dance on that prick's ashes and get about a hundred years worth of distance from this."

The demon nodded knowingly. "If it makes you feel any better, you were created to be his childe—not a minion. Angelus wouldn't have spent so much energy into trying to destroy you if he hadn't been special."

Xander felt a burst of cold laughter spew out. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, right? I'd rather have been a minion any day."

"Yeah, I know kid. Ask Spike one day what Angelus did to him, before he brought him across. And you know Dru's story. You actually got off easy—compared to Druscilla."

Xander shook his head and stared out the window, watching Buffy and Spike exit the bar. He could hear the gentle bantering between the two and silently wondered how Spike could be so different from Angelus?

And then he asked himself if he really wanted to know.

He decided he didn't, too fearful of what that knowledge would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, how do you think he's doing?" Buffy asked Spike as soon as they stepped inside the bar.

He shrugged as his eyes scanned the bar, and found what he was looking for. He grabbed her hand and began walking across the bar, towards the back hallway, where the bathrooms, telephone and cigarette machine resided.

"Spike!" she whispered angrily, trying to stop him.

Ignoring her until they were out of the way of prying eyes, he pushed her against the wall with his body, wondering if she realized how much she turned him on when they bickered. The energy that passed between the two seemed to send his senses into a tailspin—making him want to drop his pants and sheath himself into her tight, wet hole.

And getting a taste of her earlier didn't calm that need; it just seemed to make it more pronounced—if his erection was any indication.

Grinning, he placed his hands on either side of the wall behind her, and bent his head down to her ear. "Luv, do you realize how much you turn me on?" he asked her as he began to rain kisses down her neck to her jaw line.

"Spike," she murmured with a hint of laughter in her voice, as she haphazardly pushed against his chest. "We've got—"

He slammed his lips against hers—his tongue invading her mouth—demanding entrance to her hot mouth.

Her moan was like music to his ears.

And when he felt her body arch into his—her breasts—pebble-hard despite all the clothing in between her skin and his, he nearly came.

His hand moved down and cupped her breast, squeezing it, enjoying the whimpers he was soliciting. He had to stop or he would end up taking her right there—public place or not.

He dropped his hand to her waist as he broke off the kiss. "Damnit Slayer—no more fighting until I can shag you to next Sunday."

"You mean tomorrow?" she asked, giggling.

"Bloody hell, luv, look what you do to me. I can't even think straight."

Her fingers caressed his face, and grinned. "The feelings mutual, Blondie." She tiptoed and kissed him gently on the lips. "We've got to go."

He nodded and began backing away, but stopped when he took in her ravished look. Lips swollen and bruised—her clothes de-shelved—her chest heaving and couldn't stop himself. He cupped her face and brought his lips down to hers, and kissed her—trying to convey in his actions how much she meant to him.

He pulled back before his hormones demanded he take it further. Taking her hand, he looked down at her and grinned. "Ready?" He started chuckling. "You know, we just gave Willie something to talk about for the next six months or so."

Buffy grinned back at him as she squeezed his hand, when suddenly the smile disappeared.

"What is it, Slayer?" He asked her even though he knew the answer. It was the same thing that flashed through his mind repeatedly in the past 24 hours. Did he have the right to want someone else, when he had just spent over a hundred years with Dru. Did his desire and feelings for the slayer mean that he hadn't loved Dru for all those years?

Her beautiful eyes, once again filled with tears, softened as she studied his face. "Is this," she stopped and nodding to their clasped hands, "okay? I mean—why do I feel like I'm being unfaithful to a man that I hadn't even been intimate with in over a year? I know he's gone—forever. And I also know, that he would want me to move on—but every once in a while, I just feel like somehow I'm betraying him."

Tempted to wrap his arms around her and protect her from herself, he instead jammed his hands in the pockets of his duster and looked down at her. "You have to figure this out for yourself, pet. I can't tell you what's right or not—but I can say, in my 200 plus years of living or unliving as it's called, you can be in love with more than one person."

She nodded slowly, as if she were processing what he had said and sighed softly. "You're right. And I knew that before I even said anything—it's just—" she paused as she pursed her lips. "It's just that I guess I needed to hear it."

He pulled his hand out and grabbed hers, and pulled it up to his lips. "I understand, luv. Come on, let's go get the whelp some food and get out of her," he said as he led out of the hallway towards the bar. It wasn't going to be easy—them. But then he knew that before he even started down this road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you think it worked?" Cordelia asked Willow as she sat across from her at the Summer's kitchen table.

Willow looked up, exhaustion apparent in her pale face and nodded yes. "I felt it—just like I did with Angel."

Cordelia sighed as she sat back in the chair. It's now or never, Chase. While you got her alone. "Willow?"

"Umm?"

"Do you love him?"

Willow straightened in her chair. "You mean—am I in love with him? Right?"

Soundlessly, the brunette nodded—afraid of how needy her voice would sound if she used it. God, she hated feeling this way—especially around Willow.

Willow, who on the outside, led a shy, sheltered life but in reality, seemed to command an extraordinary amount of loyalty from the people who cared and loved her. For years, Cordy watched and observed Jesse, Xander and Willow and found herself aching to have friends that loved her like those two boys obviously did Willow. It made Cordelia's friendships pale in comparison—and rightfully so. Ironically, it wasn't until she began dating Xander that she had begun to feel what it was like to have friends that actually cared about her—instead of her name or father's bank account.

And then she lost it all.

Willow sighed, trailing her finger on the table, drawing imaginary figures on the surface. "No, I'm not in love with him." She sighed loudly, as if searching for the right words to say. "I—I'm sorry about what happened—when it happened. But, I'm not sorry that it happened though. I needed to know—what exactly my feelings for him were—in order for me to love Oz the way I should. I just wish no one got hurt because of that."

Cordelia felt her adrenaline rise as it had every time she remembered seeing them in each other's arms, kissing as if there was no tomorrow, and forced herself to take a deep breath before she said something to break Willow's mood. "Go on."

"He's a part of me—I love him, but I'm not in love with him. And he isn't with me. He's in love with you."

Cordelia stood, suddenly needing to move as she worked through her thoughts. "You know, Willow, I believe you—and yet I can't help but feel as if that scar on my stomach is your fault. Yours and his. Even though," she stopped as she felt her voice crack and took a deep breath. "Even though logically, it could've happened anyway—to any of us as we walked up those stairs. And someone might've been killed instead of being impaled—"

"Cordelia—"

"Stop! Let me finish. I reacted badly. Trust is a real big issue with me and you guys betrayed it. But," she stopped, her eyes shutting against the tears. "But when Giles called me this morning to tell me about Xander, I knew that it didn't matter. Not in the long run. Because I still—still loved him," she finished, as she felt her heart begin to shatter. Wrapping her arms around herself, she felt her body begin to shake as months worth pain started bubbling forth. "Why? Why then? Why not before me?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

She heard Willow's chair slide against the floor and her light footsteps as they crossed the room to her. "Cordy—I'm sorry—sorry about the kiss—about the spike—about hurting you. I wish it would've happened before too, but you know Xander—he lives on his own timetable," Willow finished as Cordelia felt her hands touch her arms. She opened her eyes to see a tear-faced Willow standing in front of her and felt the last of her resolve crack as her face crumbled and a loud sob escaped. It wasn't until Willow wrapped her arms around her and held her tightly while she cried, did she finally feel what she had known for years—it was Willow's ability to love and forgive that made people remain forever loyal to her.

Just as Cordelia would herself.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Ten









It was well after three in the morning when Buffy was finally able to usher everyone that wasn't staying at the Summer's home out the door—meaning, Willow, Cordelia, Oz and Wesley the Wonder Dick…

God, she really couldn't stand him.

Which left her mother and Giles, a demon and two vampires to argue sleeping arrangements in the kitchen.

Why couldn't anything ever be simple in her life?

As she listened to Xander and Spike argue about who was getting the couch in the basement and who was using the floor all the while Giles was sputtering that he didn't think it was appropriate for a slayer to sleep in the same house with two vampires—especially with Joyce there as well—she finally just couldn't take it anymore.

What a wonderful way to end an equally wonderful day.

"Spike's staying with me in my room. Xander can take the couch in the basement and Whistler can have the bed in the spare bedroom. Mom, go stay over at Giles."

Her mother met her eyes, and for the first time since she'd discovered Buffy's secret, she saw complete understanding reflected back to her.

Buffy felt another part of her already shattered heartbreak. Is this what it took for her mom to respect and understand her life as a slayer? Losing Angel, nearly losing Xander and having Spike back in their lives?

Why in the hell didn't I think of that myself? Buffy asked herself, desperately trying to ignore the rising hysteria in her heart. She instead gave her mother a grateful smile.

"Buffy, I really don't think—"

"Buff! Not again!"

"Giles, Xander, " she interrupted both of them and then glanced over at Xander who was leaning against the kitchen counter, glaring at her. Somehow, his death-stare took on a whole new meaning now that he had demon residing in his body. "Let it go," she said, her voice broking no argument as she turned her attention back to her watcher. "He's going to be sleeping on the floor. Just like he did last night."

"And what the bloody hell is it your business where I sleep to begin with, Whelp?"

"Look at her history!"

"Xander, just shut up and think for a moment before you begin to dictate the terms of my personal life. You are what you've hated for the last three years and you better deal with it!" She turned around and glared at him. "I love you. You’re my friend. You've saved my life and at times, my sanity—and you being a souled-vampire, doesn't change that. Nada. I still love you. I'd still risk my life to save you, just as I know you would do the same for me. If I can see that—a vampire slayer—then, why in the hell can't you?" She ended as she cupped his cool face with her hands.

"But Buffy—he doesn't have a soul!"

She groaned, feeling a headache tease her senses, as she dropped her hands. "Whistler, do me a favor and talk to him," she asked the demon as she turned to her watcher and her mother. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered as she gave her mother a hug. Once she opened her eyes again, she saw Giles not quite glaring at her, but she could feel his discomfort coming off him in waves. "Giles, it's okay—it's safer this way for everyone. If by chance if Xander wakes up all demon-like and hungry—I'd feel much better knowing that mom's safe, but also that there would be the three of us here to control things."

He nodded as he slipped his glasses off and stuck one of the ends in his mouth. "Just be careful."

Buffy sighed, shutting her eyes in response. He just couldn't let it go. Somehow or other, Angel always came back up in the conversation. "I will. Now, I'm off to bed."

She turned around and left the kitchen, all the while thinking of how much she just wanted to sink into the sheets and let everything that had happened in the past 24 hours just disappear under a cloud of unconsciousness.

Whether it would happen though, was another story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike watched the Slayer trudge tiredly up the stairs and instantly wanted to follow her, but didn't. One, if he followed her now, the Watcher and Xander would be on him like flies on flypaper and he was just too exhausted to fight it.

He also needed to get a few things straight with the whelp. All Spike knew was if he had to put up with that kids smart-mouth for the rest of eternity, one of them was going to end up in an ashtray a lot sooner than either of them cared to.

It was time to teach his baby brother the intricacies of vampire etiquette and Spike was just itching to do it.

But first things first, he thought to himself as he turned to look for Joyce. Take care of the boy's needs then you can enjoy the sound of his breaking bones…

Leaving the kitchen, he caught the Slayer's mother at the foot of the steps and asked her where he could find extra blankets and even more importantly, were there windows in the basement that needed to be covered.

She sighed, exhaustion apparent on her face. "It has a few small windows, but I do have some cardboard boxes and nails down there. Would that help?"

Spike nodded as he gently squeezed her hand in thanks. As he turned, Joyce's tired voice stopped him.

"Spike, I know I asked you this earlier—but something's changed between you two, so I'll ask it again. Are you sleeping with my daughter?"

His eyes shut, silently swearing up a storm. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with now; but like in the past, Joyce always seemed to have impeccable timing with the difficult questions. He turned his head and met her questioning eyes. What to say? No, not yet, but I want to Joyce. I want to fuck the brains out of your daughter tonight and for the rest of her life or even eternity, if I could. No, that wouldn't do, he thought silently. Just because he was a soulless vampire didn't mean he had no tact. He just used it sparingly. He opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, when the words slipped out of his mouth. "I think I maybe falling in love with her…"

Did he just say that?

By the look on her face, she appeared to be in just as much shock as he. Their eyes stayed glued to one another's for nearly a minute longer, when she broke contact and sighed. "She's not going to have a normal life, is she?"

Suddenly, he understood her reservations. Out of all of the people in the slayer's life, Joyce was the only one treated him with respect and dare he say, caring, despite who or what he was. And because of that, her approval or disapproval of whatever the slayer and him were pursuing meant the most to him.

It wasn't him, per se that she was against, as much as her daughter's lifestyle choices. If Buffy was choosing another vampire as love interest over a human male, then normality, i.e., children, marriage, a house—a future—wasn't something either the slayer believed was possible for her or something Buffy wanted in her life.

Another parental hope had just been destroyed.

"I don't think it's in the cards, love. Maybe, if her first love were human, it would've been different, but now? Even if I weren't around, she probably would look for some other preternatural male to share her life with. It's safer for her mate as well as her that way."

Tears flooded her eyes as she nodded in understanding. "Take care of my daughter, Spike."

"I will—that much I can promise you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Xander stood in the Summers kitchen, warily watching Spike follow Buffy's mom out, he thought of what Buffy had just said to him and couldn't help but feel stung by her observations.

She was right. By giving him back his soul, he was now the very thing he's hated since seeing Jesse's demonic face grin back at him three years before.

How far we've fallen, he thought to himself as he turned to the window and looked out into the black of night. Will Willow be next? Was this their fate—the original three musketeers? What would Jesse think if he saw his friend wearing fangs and demonic ridges?

His dead heart tightened as a familiar pang of guilt washed through him. Was he wrong in staking Jesse? He shook his head at the craziness of it all. Didn't Darla change him? That would make Jesse in vampire lineage—his uncle.

He barely managed to squash the manic laugh that was just itching to be released.

God, if only Jesse could've kept his hormones in check long enough for there to be a soul restoration, then maybe this undead life of Xander's wouldn't seem so bleak. As it stood, all he could see was a future surrounded by smart-ass demons that appeared to be fighting on the same side as the Buffster.

That was another thing—Xander had a hard time believing in the sincerity of either of those demons.

It was only three, four months ago that Spike rolled through Sunnydale and made a mess out of everyone's lives. Granted, he didn't try to kill anyone that last time, but he sure wore the face of a demon. How could he change that much in such a short period of time?

And how could Buffy trust him?

Or trust Xander for that fact.

Xander could feel his demon squirm inside of him, just itching to be released and that only seemed to reinforce his misgivings about the whole Spike thing. How could Spike be trusted if he had anything similar to Xander's demon residing his body?

Groaning softly, he turned away from the window to see Whistler watching him quietly from his perch on the counter top.

"Kid, we need to talk," the demon said as he slid off the stool and signaled for Xander to follow him as he opened the basement door.

As Xander went down the steps, he flashed back to the last time he had been down there: the first time he and Cordelia kissed.

He could almost feel her warm arms around him as they clutched one another in a passionate embrace, only to be fighting the next minute.

Such passion.

So much pain.

"You see, kid. It's like this…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow sighed as she burrowed deeper into Oz's arms. As usual, her parents were gone and with just a glance, Oz knew what she was asking.

She needed him.

She needed to feel his warm arms embracing her, holding her, treasuring her almost as much as she had needed Xander back. That was the crux of the matter. Xander affirmed her existence and Oz gave it life.

And she needed that—feeling alive.

Because never before, even with the Harvest and the Master, had her life felt so expendable as it did in the past 24 hours. With a minimum amount of resistance, Xander's life had been destroyed and he was brought across.

Never before had the reality of their situation—their fight against the horrors of the Hellmouth—been so obvious as when Faith switched sides.

And it wasn't just that she changed loyalties, it was all the calamity she brought with her when she did so. Like a domino affect, the Slayerettes lives were forever altered and changed.

It didn't even take the Mayor's Ascension to do that.

All it took was one angry, hurt slayer to join forces with Sunnydale's resident head evil and suddenly everything that Willow held dear in her heart was in jeopardy.

Willow wondered what Faith would do for an encore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Spike nailed the cardboard against the last window, he tossed the hammer onto the worktable and turned to his newest sibling.

He barely managed to keep his eyes from rolling at that thought.

Why, out of all the Slayer's friends, did Angelus choose the Whelp to be his childe? Last year, all the prick wanted to do was kill him. Never once did he mention that he might have other plans for Harris.

No, Angelus' plans had always been for the Slayer first and foremost and the Witch as secondly. Angelus saw the possibilities in Willow's quiet, gentle strength, her quick mind and intellect and her power as a witch.

And after hearing of her doppelganger, Spike couldn't help but wonder if Angelus had been right with that.

She would've been a powerful, sensual vampire—just as the whelp was.

After all his arguments against the soul restoration spells, he finally could see the logic behind it. Even with a soul, Xander Harris was no longer the whelp that Spike continued to call him. Although his demon was under wraps, its power seeped out—blanketing the boy—daring anyone who had the balls to fuck with him to just give a try.

Not even Spike was that strong when he had been turned, and he knew he had been a force to be reckoned with.

The Master's lineage.

It didn't matter that the fucker was dust particles—his power and strength lay in his childer and their childer—forever to be passed down.

Shaking his head, he leaned back against the table and watched Xander as the boy paced restlessly in front of him. "Well, spit it out, boy," Spike said after lighting a cigarette.

Xander stopped, his eyes shot up and glared at Spike. "I don't know if I should."

"Why the hell not?"

Xander sighed, shutting his eyes but not before Spike caught the flash of yellow that flared in them. Got a temper too, he thought to himself with maybe a hint of approval.

"I don't feel up to being beat up on right now. It's been a rough 24 hours."

Spike took a long drag off his cigarette and nodded. What Xander said was true. The kid lost his human existence, his parents, most likely his virginity in certain places and his blood innocence. "All right, I'll accept that. You don't have to say a bloody thing—just listen and listen well. Since Angelus is no longer available for your 'training' as a member of the undead club, I guess I'll have to do.

"You're a lucky fucker. I'm not as harsh or cruel as the prick and I don't get into the bloody mind games our sire revels in—as long as you don't cross me. First rule: I don't want to hear your opinions about the Slayer and I. If you have to rag on someone, do it when we're not around. She's a big girl now, and she knows what she's getting herself into—"

"Are you sure?"

Bloody hell! What, he managed to make it through a whole minute? Spike clenched his teeth as he dropped the cigarette and squashed it with boot. "Get it out—this is you're only chance, boy. After this, I'm going to show you why they call me Spike. Got it?"

Xander's eyes shot open as his demon face appeared. "It's just that she knew what she was getting into with Angel. And look what that mess brought us!"

Spike nodded. "And? No soul to lose, boy. Look at me!" His human face slid off as his temper flared. With vampiric speed, he crossed the room and grabbed the younger vampire's arms, shoving him violently against the wall and immobolizing him. After Spike placed his arm across the boy's throat, pinning him down, he stared into Xander's yellow eyes, forcing the boy's demon to acknowledge Spike dominance. "There's no William the Bloody here—just a fucking demon who happens to love and protect those he cares about. No dichotomy—none of the inner battles that you're going through right now. I'm a demon. Period. I've made my choices, boy. There's no going back to the other side and dancing in the blood of innocents with Druscilla and Angelus. It's either join up with Whistler or greet the sun.

"Do you understand?" he asked as he watched Xander's human façade slip back on. Maybe he got through to him.

Nah, Spike thought. The kid's too stubborn. But maybe he's realized he's lost the battle. That's enough for tonight.

Xander's eyes then dropped, acknowledging defeat. He bucked his chest, trying to dislodge Spike's body. The elder vampire stood there for over a minute longer, saying nothing, as he continued to hold the boy still. Finally, he backed off and walked over to the couch and casually sat down on the arm of the couch as he watched the boy fling himself longways onto its cushions. "So, what else?"

"Do as I ask. I'll give you the same courtesy as I do with all my childer—and explain things if you don't understand them. As long as the time and place is appropriate. Don't worry, I won't send you to a senseless death. And when we train, I don't want to hear you bitch and moan about how much you hurt. Vampires can withstand a helluva lot of pain, and you have to learn how to deal with it. And maybe even enjoy a bit of it," Spike added, smirking.

Xander chuckled humorously. "Already learned that—my parents were great teachers. Would've made wonderful vampires," he finished softly as a flash of pain crossed his face. "When do we start?"

Spike stood up and began walking towards the steps. "Tomorrow afternoon. About four. Make sure you've cleared an area out down here, so we can have some maneuverability." He started up the stairs and suddenly stopped, turning to look at his newest Angel toss-off. "Don't fuck with me, Xander and we'll get a long fine."

With that, he made his way upstairs, looking forward to sleeping in the slayer's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until after he walked Ms. Chase to her door, did he realize that someone had been watching him. The hairs at the back of his neck stood out as he turned around to walk back to his car.

Was it Angelus?

Or Faith?

As he reached into his jacket and grasped the cool, hard wood that had been in his pocket, a part of him hoped it would be a vampire.

At least then, he would have a chance.

Against his own slayer, he knew his death would be imminent.
 

Chapter Eleven








It wasn't until he saw her lying there on her bed, with just a thin sheet covering her silk clad body, that Spike realized he wouldn't be going to sleep anytime soon.

Once he closed and locked the bedroom door behind him, he leaned back against it and watched her—mesmerized.

As her chest moved rhythmically with every breath, he found his eyes drawn to the erect nipples that were visible through her nightclothes.

His cock hardened instantly.

In love…was he really falling in love with her?

A part of him wanted to scream, 'Lust! Not love, lust!' like that bloody hysterical character on the telly, Taxi.

But it was more than lust.

And more than hate.

And he always did like her—even when he wanted to kill her.

And now that her death wasn't the foremost on his mind, all that passion he had for her just switched gears, in a sense. Instead of wanting to pound her head in, he wanted to pound into her hot wet hole. Instead of breaking her neck, he wanted rain cool kisses down its length.

Instead of sucking her dry—he wanted to taste her light.

"Bloody hell," he whispered as he ran his hand through his hair and began to softly pace in front of her bed.

Love.

He had fallen in love with the bloody girl and hadn't even had the sense to realize it until he had talked to Joyce earlier that night.

So many years spent devoted to Druscilla only to face her cold rejection once Angelus came back, nearly blinded him of the truth. All this time, for the past two years, he had thought he was just attracted to the Slayer.

Well, not just attracted to—more like lusted after—her.

But now, as he paced the length of her room, surrounded by her scent and essence, he realized that he wanted so much more than a few quick rolls in the sheets—he wanted this—her—to be with him—always.

He stopped; shutting his eyes against the reality of her destiny and nearly sighed.

There would be no forever with her—she was the Slayer.

She would die, in nearly a blink of an eye compared to his immortality, and once again he would be alone.

"Fuck me."

He kicked off his boots and shed his clothes, dropping them onto the chair beside her bed and just stood there, in only his boxers, for a moment. He briefly scanned the area and noticed the bedroll she had laid out for him the night before, had been carelessly tossed to the side of the room.

The message was clear; she wanted him with her.

Another minute slowly ticked by as he stood there, weighing his options. He could pull the bedroll out and lay there, wide awake and mentally kicking himself for the next eight hours or he could just take a chance and do everything inhumanly possible to guarantee she would live a long, healthy life with him by her side.

Putting it that way, Spike knew there wasn't much of a decision to be made.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Faith could slip away from the two master vampires, she did.

Once she left the atrium, she wandered the halls of the mansion, going from one dusty room to the next, as her mind kept trying to wrap itself around the events of the last 24 hours.

It wasn't an easy task.

Every time she thought her conscience had finally quieted, her heart would silently ask her if it was truly worth it.

All of it.

From turning her back on Buffy and Giles to working for the mayor, to helping to free the demon, Angelus, from the ensouled vampire's steel grip.

To murdering Xander's parents…

…to having Angelus bring him across.

Was it worth it?

Faith had no idea anymore.

All she knew was the sick feeling at the bottom of her gut every time she saw Xander's face in her mind as he watched Druscilla and Angelus torture the two most important people in his life. Or the horror she felt when she realized that within twenty-four hours, she once again lost Xander—this time to a spell and not her own fear.

And now, as she listened to her watcher's pain-filled screams echo loudly through out the nearly empty house, coupled with the insane laughter of Dru's and the smug satisfied chuckles of Angelus', all she wanted to do was bury herself under a pack of covers in her bed at home—and hide from the world—just like she had done so many times as a child.

She turned the corner of the neglected hallway and noticed that a door was open. Which was unusual here, on the third floor of the west wing. She found herself drawn to it as she aimed the flashlight beam through the door. Once she reached the threshold, she felt her chest tighten.

"Holy shit," she whispered to herself as she stepped into the room. She saw a few candles sitting on a table and decided to light them. Once the room was filled with the golden hue of light, she walked over to the closest wall and stared at the sketches, as her mouth dried in shock.

Buffy.

Nearly all of them were of Buffy. And the ones that weren't of the other Slayer—were of the rest of the Scooby Gang. Even a frighteningly accurate portrait of Faith was displayed for all to see.

It obviously was done from memory. Before last night, Faith had only been to the mansion two times before. The first time was to kill Angel and the second time was when Angel and Buffy had subdued her and chained her to the wall.

The picture was of her standing there, hands and feet shackled against the wall in the atrium, her chin jutting out defiantly—but that wasn't what touched her.

It was her eyes.

It was as if Angel saw all the pain, anger, confusion, regret and rage in them, and drew what he saw.

Faith never realized her eyes told so much with just a look.

"He was always good at reading what was in people's souls—that's what makes his demon so powerful."

Faith whipped around, stake in hand, instantly recognizing the voice. "How the hell did you get in here?"

The short demon chuckled softly as he shrugged. "Trade secret." He glanced down at the stake and then back at her. "You can put that down—I'm not here to hurt you—or take you away—or even threaten you."

Her grip tightened on it as she lowered her arm. "Then what are you here for?"

He took off his hat and held it in his hands. "To talk."

Her body tensed. How did he know? She had to get out of here. If the mayor ever found out she was having doubts…

"Faith—there was a reason that Angelus' was cursed. Just look around you," he said as he slipped his hat back on and walked over to the other side of the room. He pointed to a picture. "This is of Darla, his sire. She was the Master's childe. Not even Kakistos was as dangerous as the Master." He pointed to a picture beside it. This one showed Spike and Druscilla standing over a pile of dead bodies—children bodies—locked in a bloody, passionate embrace. "And these two. Now that you've meant them, you can judge for yourself. Druscilla's barely 130 years old—yet she wields the power of a master vampire three times her age! And Spike—I'm just glad he came to his senses. In some ways, he's even more powerful than his sire, because he uses his brain. And Xander—couldn't you feel the power radiating from him? "

"Your point?"

He sighed. "Did you meet Willow's doppelganger?"

Faith shook her head. "No, but I heard about her," she said, chuckling softly.

Whistler smiled himself. "What a piece of work. She was the Master's childe. Two years old and she had the vampires in this town bowing down to her. And like Druscilla, she was insane." He turned back to her. "The master's lineage is too powerful. That coupled with the surreptitious nature of demon incarnation makes it too risky. Even some of the higher ups in the Demon Dimension want that bloodline destroyed. It's too independent, too strong—mentally, physically and a lot of them wield, at least to demons, distasteful attributes—"

Faith snorted. "Like what—small dicks?"

He rolled his eyes. "No—feelings. This," he said waving his arms around the room, "wasn't just Angel's doing—its Angelus' too. The demon's always been a bit compulsive and manic. Since returning from Hell, its just been magnified. Angel could barely control him—even with a soul. Spike and Dru were nearly zapped by the Judge for harboring 'human' feelings—such as love. And Darla, she loved Angel and it got her dusted."

He stopped and stared at her. Eyes older than time stared into her cracked soul—

"No one could kill him, so he was cursed. At least that way, there was the possibility of the bloodline thinning with the passage of time.

"Both times Angel's demon resurfaced, he's become even more obsessive, controlling and dangerous. He will kill you, Faith. And most likely, he will find a way to kill the mayor as well."

With that said, the demon called Whistler disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time in less than 24 hours, Buffy awoke to Spike's cool ministrations as his hands caressed her body.

This time she knew what she wanted.

She wasn't quite sure what she felt for Spike—but she did know that her feelings were much closer to love than anything else.

How they got there so fast, she had no idea. Was it because he was a demon that could love? Or the knowledge he wouldn't leave her in the morning by turning into a soulless bastard that wanted to kill all her friends?

Or was it the passion he evoked in her?

Or could it be his quiet presence as he stood by her side—supporting her?

Or maybe it was because her mother adored him?

Buffy nearly broke the mood and giggled out loud at that thought.

Whatever it was, Spike had it. And for over a year, Angel didn't have it.

So when she felt his body settling on top of hers, she opened her eyes, and smiled up at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Hi," she whispered as her fingers played caressed the nape of his neck. "What took you so long?"

He growled Xander's name half-heartedly as his fingers brushed her hair off her forehead. "The bloody whelp. He is one stubborn S.O.B., isn't he?"

Buffy did giggle at that. "Yep, that's my Xander. So, I guess being undead didn't change that, huh?"

Spike sighed dramatically. "Alas no, my pet," he said and kissed her softly on the lips. "But have no fear, I took care of him."

"Is he still in one piece? No full ashtrays around here that I need to worry about?"

"Yea have little faith, Slayer. I restrained myself. Just stated some rules—told him I was his de-facto-sire and how he better well mind me or I'll pull out one of my trusty spikes." He actually wiggled his eyebrows at her for emphasis.

She chuckled softly as she traced his ear with her finger. "Good, put the fear of Spike in him—damage him for the rest—" she stopped, inhaling deeply when one of his hands dropped down caressed the inside of her thigh.

"Umm, like that, pet?" he asked right before his cool tongue dipped into her ear.

Another wave of heat flowed through her body as he nibbled on her earlobe.

"Yeah, you could say that," she said, her voice low and shaky.

He kissed his way down her neck to her jaw line. "You taste so wonderful, love. So sweet." He stopped once he reached her mouth, whispering the last line against her lips.

"I do?"

He nodded as his lips turned and clasped her bottom one and began nibbling on it.

Her tongue slipped out, tentatively touching his mouth, silently inviting him.

His mouth opened and instantly the playful kiss evolved into something much more passionate as their tongues touched.

Buffy sighed as her legs parted even further, instinctively searching for his hardness.

Her arms were once again wrapped around his neck, one hand pushing his head down to her, as her mouth opened even further for him. Her other hand rubbed his back, using her nails.

When the kiss deepened, she felt his hand move behind her and grab her behind, holding her tightly against him, as their bodies rubbed sensually against one another. Then his fingers slipped underneath her panties—his cool hand on her ass sending chills through out her body.

He suddenly broke the kiss.

She opened her eyes to see him watching her intently.

"Buffy, are you sure?"

She cupped his face and kissed him softly on his lips. "Yes, Spike, I'm sure. I want you—I want to feel you inside of me…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wesley Windham-Price, Watcher extrodinaire, how are you doing on this lovely night?" Angelus asked the beaten and bound figure at his feet.

Druscilla glided over to stand next to him—her presence almost throbbing with excitement. "He's filled with fear, my Angel. So delicious."

Angelus watched her as she closed her eyes, swaying to some tune only heard by her and shook his head ruefully. Squatting down, he grabbed a handful of the Watcher's dark hair and yanked his head up and grinned as he watched the human struggle to open his eyes.

It was a beautiful sight.

Just as Dru said, Angelus could feel the man's fear as it hit the vampire in waves, filling his senses, tantalizing him—urging him to do more to him just so he could take in more of the man's horror—inhale it like human's do air.

"Damn, it's good to be back, my boy! Aren't you glad?"

The watcher moaned.

Angelus chuckled softly as he dropped the Watcher's head, enjoying the nice thumping sound as it echoed loudly through out the room. Such a coward. He could torture him for years and still enjoy it!

Harris took a hell of lot more and never broke. Not once did the boy break down the night before. The only signal Angelus ever got that he did indeed beat him was the boy's passivity when Angelus' turned him.

He growled, shooting up and instantly began pacing. "Dru—what kind of demon do you think the Watcher would make?"

Her body instantly stilled. Angelus watched her for nearly a minute, nearly ready to repeat himself, when her eyes fluttered open. "Miss Edith says his demon will be cruel and heartless, like my Angel, and smart too."

He nodded, thinking the same. Especially after seeing Harris' transformation and meeting Willow's vampiric double. He didn't know what it was, but his childer usually became master-vampire material. "Next question, pet. How the hell do I keep them from cursing him?"

Actually, that was the most important question of all. If he knew his Willow, the witch had that fucking curse memorized and owned at least a dozen orbs. Willow was the living embodiment of the saying, 'be prepared.'

Dru eyes lit up. "Ms. Edith says we should hide him and have serpent cover for him…"

"Serpent?"

"I think she means the mayor, Angelus," Faith said as she stepped into the room. "Why? What are you thinking?"

Angelus turned and studied the slayer—noting the drawn look on her face. "Where were you?"

She shrugged. "Around."

He felt his human face disappear as he struggled to tamper the rage building in him. A part of him really liked Faith—her sadistic nature—her blatant distaste for the rules—but a larger part of him hated her. It screamed for him to turn her or kill her or do something other than treat her like an equal.

She was the enemy—regardless of where her loyalties stood.

"Not good enough," he growled.

She threw him a disgusted look. "Wandering around! Jesus—thinking okay? Get a grip, Fangboy!"

Before he could stop himself, he had knocked the stake out of her hand and had her pressed against the cold concrete wall. "Faith," he whispered in her ear as his fangs scratched her neck. Just the smell of her blood aroused him. Grinning, his cool tongue lapped the trickles of the red liquid that seeped from her wounds. "What did I tell you yesterday?" He asked as he felt her buck up against him, trying to push him off her.

It didn't work. He just stood there, grinding himself on her—immobilizing her.

"Fuck you."

His hand shot up and gripped her chin, bruising it, as he forced her to look at him in the eye. He smirked, shaking his head. "No, no, no, no Faith, fuck you." His mouth smashed against her lips as his free hand tore at her pants, yanking them off.

It was time to teach the slayer some manners.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike returned her kiss with enthusiasm as his hands grasped the bottom of her camisole and began lifting it upwards. He pulled away just far enough to remove the garment and toss it aside, then turned his attention back to her mouth, all the while his hands caressed her sides—causing her to skin to break out with goosebumps.

He grinned against her mouth when he felt her back arch upwards, into his touch. He could smell her arousal—stronger than ever before. It was as if she had been holding back before—keeping it in check and now that her heart, mind and body were all united—she let herself go.

And her touch was driving him wild. It felt as if she had a dozen hands—as they skimmed his cool skin, warming it with her touch. Once they dropped to his boxers, her fingers caressed the silk, causing him to shudder in desire.

Almost as if he were retaliating, he slipped his hand under her panties and tickled her bush, causing her to buck upwards.

"Spike…"

He nearly came hearing her utter his name in a breathy moan.

He sat up, pulling his hand out of her underwear and hooked his fingers on the top of the garment. She lifted her butt up and he pulled the piece of cloth off her body, leaving her naked for his perusal.

She was beautiful.

But he knew that even before he saw the way her tanned, bare skin glowed in the candlelight. Or how her full, pert breasts laid there, against her chest—just begging him to ravage them…

Or the scent of her sex—so intoxicating, he idly wondered if it were some kind of drug to lull demons into a slayer's thrall.

He wanted to taste and touch everything and hear her scream his name as she came.

"Spike—get down here and make love to me!"

"Impatient, luv?" he asked as crawled up and covered her body with his.

She grabbed his arms and pulled him even further up so their faces were level. "Yes—I'm dying here, I hope you know!"

Smirking, he bent his head down and nibbled on her neck as he settled himself in between her legs, his cock barely touching her hot hole. As he kissed his way upwards to her ear, he slowly entered her cunt, stopping when only the knob of his cock was inside. "We can't have that, can we, luv? What would the Watcher's Council say? Their best slayer dies in the arms of a soulless vampire…cause of death: sexual frustration."

"God damnit, Sp—oh Jesus—" she nearly yelled as he sheathed himself inside her.

He braced his arms on both sides of her head and bent his head down to hers—their lips barely touching. "Slayer, better now?"

She growled softly, her eyes filled with both lust and amusement as she pushed her pelvis up—trying to force him to move inside of her. When that didn't work, Spike felt her vagina muscles tighten around him. He nearly lost control then. "Cocky asshole," she muttered softly before the tip of tongue slipped out and licked her lips.

Somehow, it was that small, innocent act that broke his control.

He heard himself growl as he smashed his lips against hers, pushing his tongue into her mouth as he began to slowly pump in and out of her.

As their mouths battled, Spike felt her legs lift up and wrap themselves around his waist, opening herself even further for him.

He gladly pushed his way through.

It wasn't long before their coupling took on nearly frenzied qualities. Spike couldn't seem to keep his hands still as they skimmed over Buffy's hot skin.

By the time they both came, he wasn't sure who was making the most noise—Buffy's screams as she peeked or his roar right before he sunk his fangs into her neck.

He'd just retracted his fangs and had begun licking the twin holes on her neck when he felt the whelp's presence just outside her bedroom door.

"Bloody hell—"

"Xander—go to bed. I'm okay—still alive."

She heard the other bedroom door open and Whistler's New York accented voice call out. "Harris—"

"I know—I know—I'm going."

"I'm bloody going to kill that kid tomorrow," Spike muttered against neck.

He felt her chest rumble underneath him. "Teach us to ever have sex with him around. He's going to be worse than Angel ever was—"

He lifted his head, suddenly feeling the need to see her eyes and her face. To see for himself that she had no regrets. "Buffy?"

Her face broke into a huge smile as he felt her muscles contract, squeezing his cock. "Yes?"

He sucked in an unneeded breath in response, promising himself he would return the favor later. "Quit that, luv! Be serious for a moment, pet," he whispered. She nodded, the smile disappearing from her face, but not from her eyes.

He shook his head, trying not to grin and as his blue orbs met her hazel ones. "Are you okay, luv?" He brushed a lock of hair off her face and kissed the tip of her nose.

She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. "No regrets, Spike. Actually, right now, I feel better than I have in over a year. It's like I'm finally free…ya know?"

And the funny thing about it, he did know. Because oddly enough, he felt the same.

He was finally free from Dru.

"Yeah, I think I do know," he said, hoping that she could see the truth in his eyes. He suddenly grinned as he felt himself hardened in her warmth. Happily, he started moving in and out of her. "Can I take this slow, now?"

She giggled. "Yeah—let's do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were times in Faith's life that she wished she had learned to keep her mouth shut.

This was one of those times.

But just like when she was a child and her mother stood over with a hairbrush in hand getting ready to smack her daughter's head with the object, instead of cowering like all good little girls did, Faith fought back—using the first weapon she learned how to manipulate: her mouth.

And the funny thing about it was—it was the same weapon she always turned to first—even now as a slayer.

She could've lied to him when he had asked where she'd been. She could've even told him the truth—and just not mentioned Whistler.

But her own fears paralyzed her and now she was going to pay the price.

The night before, she had been a willing participant in Angelus and Dru's sexual escapades. Now it seemed, she was going to be punished—just as Xander had been the day before.

As Angelus tore at her leather pants and yanked them down to her knees, she felt another piece of her self-respect disappear into that dark fog that had been following her since she killed Alan, the deputy mayor, all those months before.

After she felt the vampire's cold fingers jab into her cunt, chuckling at her wetness, she wondered if she would be lucky enough to meet death during this altercation.

Let another slayer be called.

She flunked out.

She failed her calling, herself and yes, her bloody and broken watcher that was staring the display from the cold embrace of Druscilla's arm as the vampiress' other hand was stroking his cock through his torn pants.

Gods, could it get any worse?

Yes! her mind yelled, as Angelus grabbed her hair and brutally attacked her lips, bleeding them and her tongue before he pushed her down to her knees and unzipped his pants.

Fear tickled her gut as his iron hard cock popped out of his pants. The night before, she had managed to avoid having to go down on him—fearing its length as well as girth, but now she knew she had no choice.

Barely given enough time to catch her breath, he pushed himself into her mouth, his claws digging in her shoulders as she struggled not to choke.

"Faith—no teeth or you're dead."

She didn't need to hear the threat—she already knew it in her bones. As her jaw widened and she clamped down on her gag-reflex, those sketches she found flittered through her mind as Whistler's word's haunted her…'He will kill you, Faith.'

Two hours ago, she didn't really believe it. Now she knew better, she thought to herself, as she felt the first of numerous bruises form in the back of her throat.

The worst part of the whole thing was the way her body instantly responded to his. One night of sex—and it knew what it wanted—the hell with her mind's or heart's misgivings…

The body wanted to feel his ice-cold cock pound into her—it wanted Angelus to possess her, control her and own her.

Her mind and heart just hoped that she would survive the experience.

Suddenly her mouth was free and was falling down onto her back, her face stinging from Angelus' fist.

"No zoning out, Faith! I like my partners to participate!" He was smirking at her—reveling in her discomfort. Prick, she thought to herself as she watched him squat down beside her and run his finger down the side of her face. As she saw him lift it to his mouth, she found herself surprised to see it red with her blood.

She hadn't even realized she was bleeding.

"Assume the position, my dear. Hands and knees."

Biting her bottom lip, she obeyed, silently wondering if she had ever been as scared as she was right then. Not even when she Kakistos killed her watcher or when she realized that it had been a human chest she sunk her stake into…

And then he was inside her, bruising her cervix instead of her throat—filling her, possessing her.

One of his hands squeezing her hip bone so tightly, she feared he was going to crack her bone as he held her in place while he pounded into her sopping wet hole. The other hand was wrapped around her dark tresses, yanking her head up as he grunted in her ear, whispering to her all the horrid, dark things he was going to do to her before the night was finished.

And the worst, by far, was the tendrils of electricity that was sweeping through her body as he continued to fuck her into submission. She could feel her vagina muscles contract and knew that she was going to come—regardless of how terrified she felt or lack of stimulation to her clit.

A cold sweat broke out over her face, chest and sex and she heard Angelus growling in her ear. "Come on, bitch…come for me…be the dog you are…"

And then it happened.

A wave of helpless swept through her body and she heard herself screaming his name as he sunk his fangs into her throat. They bucked up against one another, each one coming with a strength that amazed her.

Her last thought before she passed out was now she knew she would never be free of him—he did own her like no other ever had.
 

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