And all her fury.

"Buffy..." he gasped out, his other hand grabbing the bed post for support.

Full of tears, Buffy's eyes slammed through him. They were full of fury and pain and horror. Everything that Angel felt inside his soul was reflected in her wide, hazel eyes.

"How could you?" she hissed, her hands balled in front of her, her body in a fighting stance.

Angel had no answer for her, and he dropped slowly onto the end of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.

Taking several shuddering breaths, Buffy turned her attention from her former lover to her current one. Fresh horror filled her, as the scent of blood wafted over her, and her eyes skimmed the gory wounds on his back. His beautiful white skin was marred with purple and red and yellow marks, many leaking blood.

Spike was quivering, and she could almost feel his pain.

Stumbling forward, Buffy rounded the bed and dropped to her knees next to it. Spike's eyes were closed, his eyelids almost translucent. His cheeks seemed more hollow, his lips thinner.

"He needs blood," she whispered almost to herself. Her hand went for the knife in her boot before she could even form another coherent thought.

Angel's hand closing around her wrist stopped her from cutting herself.

"No."

"Fuck you," she yelled, struggling to free her hand.

Squeezing, Angel forced her to drop the knife, and it clattered to the floor. He jerked her to her feet and shook her hard. "I won't let you feed him."

Buffy's face twisted in fury and she yanked herself free of him. "He's starving, dying because of you. He needs blood now."

Angel's face hardened, but his eyes filled with pain and he reached down for the knife. "Then he can feed on me."

"No."

The voice was empty, breathy, barely audible, but there was desperation in it, nearly swallowed by pain.

Both Slayer and ensouled vampire turned to see Spike watching them through hooded eyes, agony evident in his strained expression.

"Don't deserve it," he bit out painfully.

Buffy sank down onto the bed next to him, careful not to jar his injured body. She desperately wanted to touch him, hold him, but she didn't want to cause him anymore pain. Fresh tears filled her eyes and a sob broke from between her tightly compressed lips. "Don't say that."

"You shouldn't have come here, Slayer," Spike stuttered at an agonizingly slow pace. "This isn't your business."

Turning shocked eyes on him, Buffy gasped, "What? He...he did this to you because of me."

Spike tried to shake his head and groaned loudly at the pain, his fingers digging into the pillow on either side of his head. "No. Wrong."

Gently Angel placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder as he said, "Buffy, let me feed him. It'll help the healing process and..."

"No," Spike growled a bit stronger, though his eyes closed. He was unable to bear the Slayer's pity another moment. "If you're done with me, sire, I'll just be going." He tried to push himself up on his arms, but they were unable to support his weight.

As Spike fell back on the bed, Buffy started to cry in earnest and turned to look up into Angel's sorrow filled eyes. "Help him." Rising to her feet, she almost pushed Angel down onto the bed. "You did this to him. You heal him."

Bending his head in submission and heartache, Angel drew the knife across his wrist, then lowered the bleeding wound to Spike's mouth.

The younger male tried to deny himself the life-giving ichor, but he was starving and in so much pain. As the drops filled his mouth, he swallowed hard, then fastened his mouth around the wound. His fangs lengthened, digging into the flesh of Angel's arm, keeping the wound open and the blood pumping.

Sire's blood. It had been a century since he had tasted it, but he'd never forgotten its potency. A red haze filled him, momentarily driving the pain aside, and Spike lapped eagerly, sucking down every corpuscle, feeling the blood fill him as nothing else ever could.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, Buffy watched the expression on Spike's face slowly change from agony to bliss. A glance at Angel revealed that despite the grimace on his face, he was effected as well by his childe feeding from him.

His erection was bulging out the front of his pants.

Buffy felt an answering tingle deep between her legs and she held herself tighter as her skin flushed.

Quickly she turned her attention to Spike's wounds and watched with grim fascination as the lash marks began to heal and color returned to his nearly translucent skin.

Finally, Angel pulled his wrist free and cradled it to his chest, panting slightly from pain and loss of blood. But, he knew he deserved every instance of discomfort, so he forced the dizziness down and rose to gather Spike's clothes.

Finding the discarded wet washcloth, Buffy retook her seat on the bed and gently touched Spike's shoulder with the cloth. He jerked slightly, but his eyes remained closed, his tongue sensuously licking the remaining blood from his lips. Buffy carefully bathed the drying blood from his back, flinching each time he did, tears stinging the corners of her eyes.

She needed answers. She needed to know what had happened here and why.

But, she couldn't ask Spike, not while he was only semi- conscious, and she didn't know if she could bear to ask Angel.

Standing at the end of the bed holding Spike's clothing, Angel watched the love of his life tend to the wounded vampire with more gentleness than he had seen in her in a long time. Their break up had been painful, to say the least, and, although they had tried to become friends, it was just too hard. Buffy was stilted and cold around him, and Angel knew he wasn't much better. The gentleness in her eyes and touch had quickly disappeared.

He supposed it was understandable.

What he still couldn't fathom was how and why she had turned to Spike.

His demonic childe did not deserve to touch the hem of her cheapest dress, let alone...

A growl erupted from Angel's chest and he muttered jealously, "He will heal by himself. He doesn't need you mothering him."

Wringing the washcloth out in a bowl of water, Buffy swung her head around and retorted, "I can mother anyone I want. You can't stop me."

As the heated words sank into his pain and pleasure muddled brain, Spike forced his eyes open and looked up. An avenging valkyrie was wringing the life out of a blood stained washcloth.

"Luv..."

Buffy turned back around, her expression gentling. Placing one soft hand on his cheek, she smiled lovingly. "Just let me know when you're strong enough, and we'll get out of here."

"The sun's up," Angel said in a hard voice.

"Then I'll get him out of this room. It reeks of blood and pain," she snapped back.

"Leave off, Buffy," Spike mumbled. "Deserved it."

Her eyes widened and she gasped, yanking her hand off his cheek. "Don't say that!"

He answered in a tired, slurred voice. "You don't understand vampire relationships."

Sarcasm crept into her own voice. "This is a relationship?"

"Most important one. Sire 'n childe."

Buffy shook her head helplessly. "I don't understand."

"Ask the poof."

"No. I'm asking you. Why did this happen? Why do you think you deserved it?"

Spike sighed and replied weakly, "In a nutshell, I took something that belongs to my sire. I could either hide, fight and probably lose, or submit for punishment."

Buffy stared at him, stunned. "Sub--submit? I...I thought Angel dragged you here, did this to you. You... asked for it?" She rose from the bed, and took an agitated breath. "I really don't understand." Slowly she looked over at Angel, who remained hovering at the foot of the bed. "You tell me."

Angel gave her a helpless look, then lowered his eyes as fresh shame filled him. "I lost control," he finally muttered.

"Obviously," she snapped. "You told me that you could order Spike to stay away from me. Is that true?"

"...Yes."

"I won't let you do that," she yelled, advancing on him and forcing him back a few steps.

"Buffy..." Angel stopped moving and straightened his slumped shoulders as anger returned. Lifting his head, he caught her furious eyes with his own. "Spike is a demon, one of the worst, even if he does retain the ability to feel human emotions. He's a killer. He hasn't stopped killing, you know that. How can you let him touch you?"

"Don't change the subject. Why would Spike, who hates your guts, by the way, let you do this to him?"

"It's the childe/sire bond, Buffy. It's very intricate and very strong, no matter the length of time or distance between the two, no matter my soul. I have considerable power over Spike. He rebels, and I let him because of my guilt and shame over creating him. When I was...before...he was mine, and if he rebelled, he was punished. It doesn't matter that he's a master vampire now. He's still mine."

Flushing slightly from the intensity and the underlying meaning of Angel's words, Buffy glanced back at Spike and saw that he had managed to sit up and was painfully swinging his legs over the side of the bed. She hurried back to his side, taking his arm and helping him to his feet.

"Are you sure you should be up?"

"Want out of here," he replied through gritted teeth, then looked up at Angel. "We done here, sire?"

"Spike, I never meant to..."

"Save it," Spike cut him off harshly. "I knew what I was in for. I wanted you to do this. I *pushed* you to do this."

"In the hopes that my guilt over letting my demon free would allow me to ignore your...liaison with Buffy?" Angel asked shrewdly.

Spike glared at his sire and leaned against the Slayer as his knees threatened to buckle. "I did it to show the clans that I hold to the old ways."

Angel took a step towards the blonde duo, and replied cooly, "Your relationship--whatever the hell you have with Buffy--is over, Spike. I command it."

"No," the younger male responded, in as strong a voice as he could muster. "Even if I have to submit to daily whippings, I won't give her up."

Buffy felt an odd thrill go through her, but she focused on her anger and glared at Angel. "And I won't let you do that, Angel. This is the year 2000. I don't care what some moldy old tradition says. You punish Spike again over me, and you'll have to face the Slayer."

Angel stared at her with stricken, shocked eyes. "You can't mean that, Buffy."

"Don't dictate to me! I'm sick of that. You dumped me. You decided we couldn't be together anymore. I want to be your friend, but you're making it impossible."

"If I told you we could be together, would you come back to me? Would you leave Spike?"

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, then shut it, stunned that she didn't know the answer.

"Of course she would, sire. She doesn't love me. It's just a bit of fun," Spike said caustically. "Can we get me to another bed before I collapse?"

Focusing on moving the blond vampire, Buffy ignored the pang in her chest and the confusion in her head, helping Spike walk across the floor.

"We're not finished with this," Angel said.

The two blondes ignored him, heading across the hall into another bedroom. Buffy flipped on the light switch and gazed in dismay at the dust covering everything.

"You can't stay here."

"I'll be fine." With her help, Spike limped to the bed, reaching it just as the tremors of pain became too much for him. As she stripped off the dusty bedspread, he collapsed on the cleaner sheets.

Buffy turned him onto his side and carefully covered him with the sheet, noting that the bleeding had stopped and his wounds were swiftly healing. Kicking off her shoes, she slid onto the mattress beside him.

Feeling her heat against his body, Spike opened his eyes and stared blankly at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm tired."

"You can't do this here. He'll kill us both."

"No he won't." She turned onto her side, facing him, and pillowed her head on one arm.

"Buffy, this is serious. He has the right to kill me."

"Would you let him? Would you let him without a fight as you obviously let him do this to you?"

"No...course not, but..." He gave her a helpless look. "If we're going to continue seeing each other, we have to keep it a secret."

"I'm not going to sneak around anymore. I'm tired of it." She yawned and glowered at him. "Why can he stop you from seeing me, but he can't force you to leave town?"

"Dunno, probably his all mighty guilt or something. Me leaving town is a clan issue. This...this is personal for him." Slowly he lifted one arm, wincing as healing tissues pulled, and brushed his fingers over her soft lips. "I think he might just kill me over you."

Sudden tears filled Buffy's eyes. "I'm not worth that."

"Luv...you are." Cupping her chin, he kissed her tenderly, then lay back, his eyes closing.

Feeling the tears falling down her heated cheeks, Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself not to reach out and hold him tightly to her. Confusion and fear filled her mind, and she tried to push the emotions aside, as she slipped into sleep.

Finally realizing that Buffy wasn't leaving the room, Angel strode across the hall, prepared to drag her from it. Pushing open the door, he stopped on the threshold.

Buffy and Spike lay on their sides, curled beneath a sheet, only their foreheads touching. As he watched, one of her hands touched one of his, and their fingers entwined.

Anger fled, replaced by a dismal feeling of despair, and Angel silently backed from the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He returned to his own room to scrub away the blood and try not to think or feel anything.

He had no idea what was the right thing to do.

The End

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