Title: Punisher
Author: Crazy_Girl_Mary
Email: crazy_girl_mary@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not to sound like all the other fic writers in the Buffyverse, but I don’t own the familiar characters in the story, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, David Greenwalt, The WB, and all those other jerks do. Joss spawned a very sexy evil vampire in leather pants, and I just know what to do with him. You don’t want to sue me. Honest, you don’t. I know these things.
Summary: Angelus is back and the first place he goes is to Cordelia's because she needs to be punished and he's just the man to do it. Complete.
Pairings: Cordelia/Groo, Angelus/Cordelia
Category: angst and suspense I suppose.
Spoilers: None.
Rating: Strong NC-17 for grusome character death, rape, extreme torture, very violent, still kind of makes me cringe and I wrote it. Strong warning! Do not read if you are under 18!
Author’s Comments: I finally have a website! Isn’t that exciting! I know I’m excited and I’ll be even more excited if you email me with your challenges and reviews.

Angelus banged his long, hard, black convertible to the curb in front of Cordelia’s apartment building. He was furious, but he was excited. He had waited months, years, biding his time inside of Angel, watching through Angel’s eyes as she strutted around the office in her tight clothes. She practically begged for it with every step, every lift of her tight little ass, and every flex of her perfect creamy leg muscles. He smiled, his eyes flickering in the moonlight; he was here to give her what she deserved.

She had been so high and mighty lately; just who in the hell did you think she was? She was a demon and all the sudden she was holier-than-thou. He shut the car door lightly, and leaned in the back to grab his favorite battle-ax. That was one thing him and Angel did have in common, they both liked some heft behind their axes. Angelus grinned, what would Angel think of his favorite ax as it was slicing through her soft skin like a hot knife through butter?

His heavy boots pounded the sidewalk as he hurried to her door. He didn’t hesitate for a moment as he raised his right foot and smashed the heavy wooden door to pieces in one fatal blow. He watched as the two pieces fell inside the living room, cracking the expensive Mexican tiles underneath. He took two steps into the room and heard scuffling down the hallway. A wide grin spread across his face, the bedroom.

Motivated by anything but good intentions he was outside the bedroom door in seconds. He kicked this one in much easier then the front door and it too crashed in loudly in two pieces. Groo, who had struggled to get dressed, was on his way to the door. The crashing in startled him and he never had a chance. Angelus lifted the ax and swung hard and high. It cut through Groo’s neck, and his head hit the floor with a thud before the rest of his suddenly lifeless body followed.

“Angel?” she whispered. Angelus dropped the ax among the wreckage and turned his attention to the woman kneeling in the center of the messed up bed. He quickly removed his coat and threw it on the chair by the door then took a seat on the edge of the bed. Cordelia’s eyes didn’t flinch in the slightest from her lover’s body as he took his seat so dangerously close to her. Then like a sudden downpour she hung her head and began to bawl, all the while banging her clenched fists on her knees, the bed, and anything she could. “No! No! God No!” she was screaming.

Angelus smiled to himself as he wrapped his arms tightly around her to stop her from beating herself. That was his job. He began to rock her tightly, whispering, “hush, baby, hush,” in her ear and kissing her soft brown hair. He rubbed her back softly, loving the feeling of the pure soft white silk that bathed her. “I’m sorry Cordelia, but it had to be that way. He was evil. He was using you. He didn’t love you. He just wanted to fuck you, and you bought into it so easily. I guess you’re just easy, it’s not your fault.” His tone got menacing towards the end of his rant, but he still held her tightly, and kissed her head at every pause.

“No!” she screamed trying furiously to escape him. “He was good and you killed him! You’re not Angel!” She began banging her fists against his chest, trying to escape his arms. Where were her super powers now, he found himself questioning.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He grinned as he fastened one hand in her soft hair and the other on the soft back of her silk robe. He easily hefted her flailing, crying body from the bed and began to quickly drag her down the hallway into the kitchen. He slammed her roughly into the hard wood kitchen table. Her hipbones bruising painfully, it was evident he wasn’t going to show mercy and she knew what was coming next. His own hips pressed roughly against her ass and he ripped her delicate robe to shreds to clear her body. He hands at her sides. She was trapped.

She shuddered involuntarily as his hand slipped inside her panties. He found she was still moist from her lovemaking. He smiled and saw the back of her neck turn red as he dropped the soft fabric to the floor. Now there was nothing to hide her from his prying eyes. He grabbed the shreds of silk and quickly tied her small wrists together, and despite her savage struggles it was all too easy. Then he held her tied wrists with one hand and doubled her over roughly on the table, using all his weight and strength to hold her body down. “The more you struggle, the more I’ll enjoy it doll,” he rasped, he couldn’t help himself.

Cordelia didn’t respond. She was trying to will her body to be numb, will herself to not feel what was coming. The sound of his zipper sliding down was the loudest sound she had ever heard in her whole life. It conveyed his plans without a doubt. She had known these plans as soon as he had dragged her to the kitchen table but she didn’t want to admit it to herself, now there was no denying it, or him. His hand went down between her thighs to open her, to clear his way. How considerate of him, she thought sourly.

He didn’t hesitate a moment after opening her. The first thrust pushed him all the way inside of her and then some. She felt like she was losing her virginity all over again, but this was not Chris Johnston, they were not in the back seat of her car, and the current culprit between her legs didn’t care if he ripped her insides apart. He didn’t care if she would be able to bear children in the future. He didn’t want or expect her to have a future and she felt the same in that respect.

She didn’t think she could hurt as much as she was hurting as he continued to thrust in and out of her body brutally. Her legs, she realized were ramming painfully into the hard table with every thrust and he was slamming her so powerfully that the table had slid across the hard cool tiles at some point and was knocking against the counter counting out his attack. With each lethal plunge her feet lifted all the way off of the ground and her hip bones burned all over again.

He wasn’t trying to pleasure himself, although he would admit it was sometimes a perk. No, rape was a hate crime, not a crime of passion like some suspected. His only goal was to hurt her severely inside and out and he knew without doubt he was succeeding. He didn’t think she knew she was screaming and crying as he slammed all the way inside her, stabbing places she didn’t know she had. The hand that wasn’t holding her arms firmly down tangled harshly in her hair and started slamming her face down onto the hard tabletop with every painful invasion. The blood was coating the table top, it was in the air, floating around the room, invading his nose. He wouldn’t be able to get away from her intoxicating smell and he knew he didn’t want to, not until the job was done. When he didn’t think she could take another painful thrust he pulled out of her. Since he was no longer holding her up she slid down the table and hit the hard floor. She lay there broken and dead inside, not attempting to move as he zipped his pants back up, covering his weapon.

He slid the table out, practically covering her body with it. He spoke as he did so, “Somehow I get the feeling you didn’t enjoy yourself.” He grabbed his shirt off the floor and produced a pack of cigarettes, one of which he lit of the stovetop. “Maybe you can tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

He continued to smoke until he was down to the filter, then he flicked the butt in her direction but it missed her by inches and eventually outed itself on the cool surface. He noticed she was facing the broken door and that if her eyes were open, which he couldn’t see to tell, she would be looking right at an escape route. An impossible escape, he thought to himself, but why let her hope? Was she good enough for that? Of course she wasn’t. “I don’t wanna sound clichéd, but you know you’d never make it.” She didn’t answer or move in the slightest. He hoped she wasn’t unconscious because that just wouldn’t be any fun at all.

He slammed open the closest drawer. It was full of dishrags. “Geez,” he laughed, “Where do you keep the good stuff in here?” he asked, his menacing voice dissipating through the silence. He knew where she kept the good stuff he was referring to, but the opening and slamming added suspense, and that made any victim much more fun in the emotionally distraught sense. He thought about the last time he had killed someone. Not fed, but really stalked, played, and killed. It had been so long, and Jenny Calendar hadn’t been half as sexy or convincing in the defenseless big-breasted bimbo role.

He opened the next drawer his eyes on Cordelia all the while. He glanced down, “Junk!” he exclaimed, laughter tingeing his voice. “Everything but what I’m looking for, although, I’m sure this would be interesting.” He pulled a corkscrew from the drawer and threw it across the room. She jolted as he did so, and he chuckled at her nerve-wreaked state. He slammed the drawer closed with a loud metallic bang trying unsuccessfully to elicit another jerk from her lifeless form.

“What do we have here?” he demanded, having opened the third and last drawer. It was filled with utensils and more importantly potential tools of pain and suffering. He grabbed a large butcher knife first, moving it slowly back and forth letting the moonlight invading the window glint off of it in the semi-darkness. He looked over at her holding the knife. Her skin looked a pale blue in the darkness, reminding him of a drowning victim. He would have to get back to doing that one of these days. People’s bodies did the craziest things when they were deprived of oxygen. He smiled at his own private thoughts.

“Cordelia,” he crooned, then lifted the knife and slammed it into the wall across the room. He got another jerk from her, and pleased that she was still with him he went back to the drawer. He found what he was looking for; a small serrated steak knife, which was dull from years of overuse everywhere but the pinpoint tip. He ran his dead finger roughly over the edge, satisfied that it wouldn’t break her skin unless he pushed really hard, he remembered it was much more painful that way.

He clenched the wooden handle in his teeth and quickly grabbed the lifeless heap of juicy womanly victim from the floor and slammed her on her back on the table. He quickly made use of the leftovers of her torn silk robe to tie her four limbs to the four limbs of the table. He smiled at the sight of her slim body stretching perfectly over the hard, flat, contrastingly dark, blood-slick surface. This was going to be too much fun.

She regretted not having the will to fight him, but was happy she didn’t have the will to beg. She knew she wasn’t above begging, but in her heart she also knew it would only make him happier and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Long overshadowed by the top of the list, death already. She wished and prayed to any god in the heavens that he would grow bored quickly, or just kill her, or spontaneously combust, or anything but drag this out all night. Maybe he would hit a nerve and she would go numb, she thought wryly. She sucked in a breath as he circled her like a big black panther. Then with the same animal motions he had jumped onto the table without a sound and was on his hands and knees overtop of her.

She could see the knife glistening almost as wickedly as his eyes in the moonlight. She wondered if he had come after her first. Were Wesley, Gunn, Lorne, and Fred already dead? Would he go back to Sunnydale after everyone in LA was gone? Would Buffy and the Scoobies return his soul again? She loved Angel, he was her best friend, but she hoped they wouldn’t for the world’s sake and for his own. She didn’t know how he had been turned this time but the soul restoration thing clearly wasn’t working. How would Angel feel after his soul was restored and he remembered what he had done to her, to Groo, the countless others? She was pulled from her unpleasant thoughts to the much more unpleasant reality as his finger gently stroked her dry, swollen, lower lip.

She quickly turned her head away, realizing that she was bearing her neck to him and not caring in the least. She hoped he would just kill her, but she knew he wouldn’t. “Cordy, Cordy, Cordy,” he said rhythmically for no apparent reason then to chill her to the bone. His voice was icier then she remembered. She had gotten close to Angel over the years and was remembering how Buffy had felt when Angel had first turned. Was what she felt right then what Buffy had felt all those years earlier?

“Hey!” Angelus yelled, his crazed face only inches from hers. He smiled, and his face almost lightened, “No nodding off on me, sweetheart.”

He picked up the knife, which he had placed next to her head, and she saw it emerge slowly from the corner of her eye, “Back to that ‘you not enjoying yourself’ part. I was just wondering what you wanted. How can I make this more enjoyable for you Cordelia?” his wicked tone and threatening eyes conveyed his objectives. He suddenly sat back, sitting on her hips with all his weight; she let a sharp cry briefly escape her mouth before clenching her teeth at his full weight. He leaned in closer and held her chin lightly with one hand, then with the other ran the edge of the small knife along her red lips. “How did your lover pleasure you so much, and how can I do the same?” he inquired, mock concern masking his face.

Cordelia wouldn’t give him the pleasure of answering, just tried her best to keep her teeth clenched as his grip on her jaw tightened. “Not willing to give away his secrets?” Angelus asked. “Maybe I can guess.” He continued to run the blade along her lips; “I bet you just loved sucking him down didn’t you?” Angelus asked her harshly, not expecting an answer and not receiving one.

Cordelia just mentally winced at his harsh sick words. He continued to tighten his grip until she could no longer keep her mouth open. Angelus made a gratified sound somewhere near a sigh and inserted the knife into her mouth. When the harsh tip touched her tongue she tried her best to fight it back out, but it was a losing battle. She felt the sharp tip pierce her tongue and pulled it aside instinctively, knocking her head on the table, nothing new there. She realized she had bared the delicate under skin to the blade as she felt it tear the soft lining. She tried to close her mouth in pain but only slammed her teeth down hard on the metal blade.

Angelus smiled as the scent of fresh blood filled his nostrils, and he wasn’t about to let those juices go to waste. Still holding the death clamp on her jaw he leaned in close and saw the fear in her eyes as he locked lips with her, imitating a passionate kiss, and sucked the blood from her mouth. When he released she was gasping for breath despite her nose. He smiled at her, “Did he fill your mouth with fluid too?” he asked, further disgusting her. Her mouth was quickly filling with blood and spit, but she couldn’t close her mouth enough to spit in his face. She thought maybe she would drown on her own blood and spit, pathetic, but much better then anything he was planning to dish out.

Catching sight of the bloody cuts on her forehead from his incessant banging he moved quickly and covered them with his mouth. He reopened them with his dull teeth and sucked until no more juices would flow. He pulled away and looked down at her, she had closed her eyes and didn’t reopen them when he had pulled away. He wanted to see them and he would make her reopen them. He hastily took the knife in his hand and stabbed her in the right side of her stomach just above her hip. He didn’t stab her too deep, but deep enough to see her eyes flash open in pain and her mouth to open in a very satisfying shrill scream. He smiled and lowered his mouth to this new cut to take those juices too.

It took minutes for this well to run dry and when he was done Cordelia felt as if she were going to pass out, but knew it was impossible with the pain that was coursing through her whole body. Her head was pounding, her jaw constantly felt like his hands were still gripping it, the stab set her whole midsection on fire in a very bad way, which heightened the pain of her previous abuses; being the bruises from her hips crushing against the hard wooden surface and her vaginal walls roughly being stretched far beyond their limits. It had and still felt as though two teams of burly men had been playing tug-o-war, one on each leg. How could that much pain come from one source? She feared that was just the beginning.

Angelus knew he could make her torture last for hours, but he was already growing bored. He wanted to feed for the first time since he had returned. He wanted to play with so many people, drawling out Cordelia’s death really would be fun. But was he in the mood, he questioned himself. He couldn’t believe what he was thinking. He was torn. He didn’t want to let her live, and he certainly didn’t want to just kill her right then and there, not until she was begging and she had made it quite clear she wasn’t going to say much. Maybe losing a few more friends would make her more fun to be around, he thought feeling a grin creep into his features.

Cordelia saw the grin. What is he thinking now, she thought. What is he going to do to me? She wanted to die so desperately she would all but beg him to finish the job. She turned her head away from him and knowingly bore her neck. He watched as the blood pulsated erratically through her slim neck. He was so hungry. But she wouldn’t die like this, then, and he knew if he didn’t get out of there he would go crazy and kill her from starvation. He would just leave her there and go get a quick snack, then come back. Or maybe he would just leave her there, spread-eagle and completely exposed for the world to see.

He jumped off of the table and she shuddered at what he was going to do. She could easily tell by his face some evil plan had formed in his head. She wondered what time it was, maybe if he took his good ol’ time killing her, the sun would come up and he would die too. She doubted it. He was too smart for something like that. He had lived all these years without running out of darkness so she doubted it would be a problem. She could dream though, that was the only thing she could do. She watched from the corner of her eye as he bent down to pick something off of the floor. It was his shirt she saw. She didn’t even remember when he had taken it off. He was putting it back on. The possibility of life fluttered for a brief second through her but she knew he was too cruel, and life didn’t matter anymore, without Groo it was the last thing she wanted.

The sudden thought of Groo brought unwelcome tears to her eyes, which began to glide down her sweaty bloody face. Angelus then, without the smallest glance towards her, walked back into the bedroom. He came back a few moments later with his coat on, his ax over one shoulder, and a few objects in his other hand. He came back over to her and smiled down evilly. For a moment she thought he would just drop the ax on her life, but to no avail. Instead he brandished her lover’s severed head before her eyes then placed it next to hers.

“Now you two can get back to your personal business,” Angelus said as he watched satisfying tears slide down Cordelia’s glistening cheeks. “If it was his tongue that was pleasuring you Cordy it’s still in there and if you want I can cut it out for you so it will be easier to play with.” She couldn’t believe even an evil vampire could be so cruel. She couldn’t hold back the coming sobs that shook her whole frame. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him she hated him, and that she hoped he got caught in a holy water rain storm, or anything else, but she wasn’t sure she remembered how to make sounds and her throat was so dry and tasted of her own blood and tears.

When she thought she couldn’t be any more humiliated and pained Angelus lifted another item, which he secured to her head despite her weak struggles. It was a tiara from some beauty pageant she had won back in high school. It was one of the only mementos she had brought from her past life and it had sat on her bureau to remind her of the better days, if not better then easier days. He circled her once more, stopping between her legs and looking up her body to get the full picture, “If only they could see their beauty queen now,” he said. Then he turned and without looking back he walked out through the hole where her door used to be, walking just slow enough to hear her sobbing all the way to the car.