Chapter Thirty-Six

Language was a modal shift he no longer had the skills to comprehend.  Smells slammed into the blackness of his mind and encouraged an opening to light.  Beats of life gripped him in lust for blood and he crept ever closer to awareness.  Growls tore from his throat without knowledge, low and feral as he fought for comprehension.  When movement at last became possible, he leapt to his feet and scanned the bodies that surrounded him.  The pumping hearts were almost deafening in their multitude and he swung his head back and forth assessing his prey.  Primal need took over and his demon face usurped the other in a race of dominance. But as he raised his body of power to jump on the one restrained¾ her wary fear-filled eyes flicking from one body to another¾ the metallic clanking of chains made him fumble and fall to his knees.  Frantically he pulled and twisted to right his control, strength waning against the force of steel, and his growls increased both in volume and intensity.

His calculating gaze shifted back and forth between the figures and finally rested on one that dared to close in on him.  This one was small and fair, but he could smell courage and power enough to cut off his continual growling.  He stared at her, mystified by her daring and a little overwhelmed by her smell.  He did not sense fear, but some other emotion that he had never experienced aimed at himself before.  She was tearful, sad¾and suddenly within biting distance.  He had been quiet in his study of her, but as she made a sound¾her soft mouth opening briefly to curve around that one word he could not understand¾he lunged for her.  With the aid of the chains he had her underneath him in an instant with his fangs buried deep in her throat.

In the flash of another second, he had retracted his fangs and was licking¾ nuzzling her neck like a lost, frightened cub to his mother.  He sought reassurance and belonging, recognising her blood as home.  He felt trapped all of a sudden, knowing with a depth that shocked him that these heartbeats were to be left alone.  His home was not alarmed or frightened so he clung to her, holding her against his body hard while still swivelling to check out the others that had begun to move closer to him.  His body began to shake in a division of want and need, and he felt his bloodlust battle to take over.  Some tiny flash within him crashed with a buzz of pain and he hurt with a vision of blood red staining walls and floors.

Damage.

His damage.

He didn't understand these structures¾ walls, doors, floors.  The coverings all around him were strange, his own and the female that he held onto with his life.  Everything was different and he started to howl his confusion and fear, gripping her to him all the more, then burying his face against her smooth skin as she returned his desperate embrace.  Both of them now covered in tears, bodies shaking with terror and fire.  While encompassed in her safe embrace he allowed the vision of others to recede and he surrendered all that he was to her, home.  She would protect him now.

After Buffy's harried instruction to accumulate near the door, the room had hushed.  Surprisingly, the Scoobies were united in their concern for the vampire who had snuck his way into their sanctuary almost without objection.  What objection had existed had all been swallowed up by fury at the blond psycho tied securely to one of Giles's dining chairs.  The only sound voluble in the cramped space was the animalistic growling of Spike.  Confidence dipped dramatically as his eyes swept abruptly over them, judging them as potential food.

Willow squeaked when Spike jumped to his unsteady feet, swaying but still unaware of his restraints.  The electrified blue gaze fixated on Professor Walsh, and the Scoobies sighed in both relief and a vindictive pleasure that she might be attacked by her own creation.  As Buffy moved closer and Spike changed his focus to her, Xander slumped in disappointment.

Her gentle and comforting call of his name, "Spike," had them all hoping and holding their breath.

All eyes watched the interplay nervously, hoping that Buffy's confidence would be rewarded, when they were all shocked to screams as he blurred in movement.  They next saw Buffy securely held beneath him with fangs in her throat.  Before anyone could move to stake him, though, he had retracted his teeth and lay against her in an intimate search for his place.  All eyes were glued to the couple in fascination but also on the brink of embarrassment.

Taken over almost by a magnetic pull, they emerged from their restraint and began to gravitate back toward them.  His frantic looks caused them to halt but already there was a sense of calm and commitment to whatever was to be done.  The Scooby group joined their blond warriors in tears, almost unbidden but in support for the wrench that had become their existence.  As Spike began to meld into Buffy, they all turned back to Maggie Walsh and shared a satisfied smirk at her look of outrage and disappointment.

Giles stomped forward in force, ready to smack her again if need be.

"I guess you underestimated this...creature...that you created.  Or maybe primal demons weren't so ferocious as you'd hoped?"  He sneered at her, unreasonably chuffed that this potentially devastating experienced seemed within their control.  The Scooby superiority seemed well-deserved at that moment, and he took a few moments to gloat, glancing briefly at Xander to find he had company.

"Right.  Buffy.  What do you need?  Should we get him some pigs blood, to remind him what he is used to feeding on?"

Appreciation settled on her face as she turned to her Watcher and smiled happily, if not tiredly.

"That would be perfect, Giles.  I think we should keep him out here with us.  I don't want him to think we've abandoned him."

As everyone at last felt at ease they found a place or chair to relax and fell upon it in tremendous relief.  They sat in quiet contemplation¾ the only sound microwave pings announcing perfectly heated blood¾ and all jumped in surprise when there was a demanding knock at the door.  A sharp glance around confirmed that pretty much everyone that they knew was already squished into the flat, but as Buffy rested her eyes back on her mate her confusion cleared.

"Giles," she said as she took the mug of blood from his hands, a bendy straw pointing right at her.  "I think it might be Angel."

Giles looked at her in understanding before hurrying to the door.  Opening revealed an extremely pissed off vampire in gameface who brushed aside the Watcher as he practically flew to his Childe in a swirl of black, leathery menace.

He turned to take in the hostage, the Scoobies, and what appeared to be the military in an escalating fury.

"What the fuck have you done to William?"

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Angel followed the trajectory of a number of guilty looks, all falling upon an older woman tethered to a chair.  He glared at her with the full force of his familial vengeance.  Turning abruptly to Buffy he felt pulled toward the twin pinpricks on her neck, still seeping blood.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, though distracted by the submissive form of his Childe against her shoulder, and his fury reached new heights.

She nodded shakily, her arms wrapped protectively around the body of her lover as her eyes misted over again.

"I don't know what to do."  Her voice crumbled from intense emotional overload and she gasped a sob as Spike whimpered against her collarbone.  She held him with a fierceness of possession and darted looks of hate towards the prisoner.

"He recognised you as his mate at least," Angel told her, his weak gesture to her neck.  "We'll work it out.  There has to be something..."

"Oh, there's nothing you can do.  I doubt he will ever be the vampire you knew."  Maggie Walsh spoke in a confident, arrogant manner that set every male in the Scooby core on edge.  The commandos flinched from association, sure that she had flipped.

Despite the stand of solidarity between Xander and Giles in favour of Spike, Angel came out the clear leader within seconds of hearing the Professor speak.

"Do you know much about Vampires?  Know of any in particular?"  His voice was a cool threat and Willow and Anya stepped closer to Xander and Giles, nervous about the flash of the Angelus side of his personality.

"Oh, I know about William the Bloody.  Very intriguing specimen."  Her demeanor remained calm as she observed them, still secure in her safety, but as Angel took just one threatening step toward her, her blood suddenly turned icy.

"Did you read about William's family?"

"Of course, the line of Aurelius is renowned.  Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and William."

He took another step to her and her small smile became a reluctant frown.

"And which one of those do you think I might be?"

The room gasped as an Irish accent tripped from Angel's tongue, the hard authoritative tone breaking through something in Spike and causing his growling search for familiarity to begin again.

Professor Walsh suddenly got it, her eyes widening in alarm.  She darted a quick, pleading glance to her officers, turning back in despair when she finally understood that they were not going to help her.

"I don't think I heard your guess."  Angel had taken another step closer and was now positioned within striking distance.  One more step and he dropped to his haunches in front of her.

"Angelus?"  she all but whispered and flinched at his harsh burst of laughter, then shrieking in terror as his gameface surged to the forefront.

"Aye, you'd be right then.  And how do you think Angelus might react to someone trying to hurt his family?  Did you research vampire attitudes to family?"

"I...ahh yes, they are, um, fiercely protective of other family members."

Remaining in demon face, Angel subtly changed back to his normal voice as he continued to observe her.

"You'll want to hope," he started out calm, quiet,  "that there is a way to bring William back, or you will be dead.  Soul or not, no one fucks around with my family."

He stood with a finality that almost stopped time.  One beat later he was directing silent questions at Giles, then gently placing his arms around the still-distraught blond couple, easing them away from the crowd and through to Giles's study.
 

As the tension began to dissipate, there was movement about the room.  Giles set to offering beverages, and Xander rejoined a thoroughly unnerved and unnaturally quiet Anya -taking her stiff, rigid body in his arms to reassure her that the major bad was done for now-and started to discuss the merits of pizza as a good upper.

General consent was voluble and so orders were phoned in and trivial points of discussion were engaged in, the commandos abandoning their weapons at the door and partaking of the courtesies of their host.  Almost everyone ignored the Professor, but as Anya walked past she tried out her right foot in a swinging motion and smiled in pleasure as her hard shoe came into contact again with the woman's shin.

"That's for Spike, and for thinking you have the right to experiment on demons.  There is so much vengeance rolling around in here right now, you'd better be grateful that I lost my pendant."  With a look filled with satisfaction Anya flounced away to wrap her arms once again around Xander's waist, the confused stare of the Professor following her.

After a good portion of the pizza had disappeared, with a few slices left over for Buffy for later if she was hungry, they all sat around the table to discuss what they might do with their captive and how they should go about destroying Adam.

Riley and his friends needed to return to base: Giles knew it was time for them to make some fast decisions.  With Willow's help, he located a binding spell that would prevent Maggie Walsh from escaping her ropes, and a simple barrier that would protect her while they all slept.  Though primarily it held her in, it also kept out any dark-haired vampires that decided that it was time to wreak vengeance.

With the disappearance of Willow, Xander and Anya, and a promise of their speedy return first thing in the morning, he sat down at his table in weary contemplation.  It had been such a short time since their world had been turned upside down.  They had all received a splendid gift, he knew that.  Having Spike on their side could be a turning point for them, and with a groan of relief he hoped that it could also mean an extended existence for Buffy.  From a few barbed comments from Buffy, he knew that if Spike had not been awarded his soul early on this time line, then he would have suffered at the hands of the Slayer.  From what he had gathered, Spike's journey had been long and fraught with all manner of misunderstandings and misjudged motives.  His efforts to change received little encouragement or support, and Giles knew that the responsibility for that probably lay at his own door.  He not only had taught Buffy, but also her friends the rules in regard to demons.  He had no doubt that his own teachings could never have paved the way for William the Bloody, he was his own law altogether.  Unfortunately, the books had never been written and so he suffered at their prejudiced hands.  How many years of happiness had Buffy forfeited because of his own beliefs?

How had Spike borne staying with them, continuing his efforts to be good?

He didn't blame himself completely¾ knowing that Buffy's own abuse stemmed from her resurrection, bringing another problem sharply into focus.  After the engagement and blindness debacle, he had started to investigate options for Willow, knowing that he could not put off her instruction forever, but wishing he could bow out altogether.  He had come as a Watcher to one Slayer¾ an unruly, disobedient Slayer at that¾ but here he was directing all her friends as well.  He felt like a nursery teacher sometimes.  But responsibility demanded that he take care of the witch.  She needed to learn control and limits, so that she didn't attempt anything like she felt she had to in the future.

They had so much knowledge of the future: enough to make a difference, a change for the better.  A shiver slithered down his spine but he refused to contemplate the possibilities of certain events repeating themselves with the same horrid outcome.  With an almost negligent glance he encountered the frosty eyes of the Professor and startled slightly; he had forgotten that she was there. Being confronted with her presence brought back into focus the vampire occupation of his home.

Spike!

What the bloody hell were they going to do for him?

He hoped with all his might that Angel knew enough and was devoted enough to bring back his Childe to the twenty-first century.  He grinned at Walsh with malice tainting his lips, reminded of the lack of chip, and Ripper almost hoped that Spike regained enough sense to rip the cow's throat out.

He took out his hidden bottle of scotch and started loading up the first glass of the night.  The reality burned down the back of his throat and he felt confident.

They would change the important things.  It didn't make sense that they got this opportunity if the same things just continued to happen.

A few more shots and he felt pleasantly buzzed, creeping down the hall to eavesdrop on the small crowd in his study.  All he heard was weeping, growling, and curiously, some clicking.  He shuddered, fearing it was hopeless, and made his way back to fall on the sofa in exhaustion.  And remained there throughout the night.
 

A/N...if any part of Seeing Red was too offensive for you to watch, then this chapter may cause you problems.  Take heart that this is as worse, and as good as it gets.  There is method to my madness, and this chapter is pivotal.  However, both my Betas pointed out that it was brutal.  So please, continue on only if your heart can take it.  In reassurance though, Holly tells me it is her favourite chapter in the whole story.  Let me know what YOU decide!?
 

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Angel stood still by the closed door, his fearful gaze unable to look away from the blonde pair clinging to each other in front of him. His body began to hum in dread as Buffy's eyes turned to him, the question he didn't want to answer plain as day.

"You can help him, right?"

Her tears had always sliced open a vulnerable part of him, and he felt his strength crumble.  He felt like laughing.  Out of pure hysteria.  He didn't think Buffy would take it the way he intended though, so he took a few excruciating moments to compose himself.  When the rising urge to laugh had fled, it was quickly replaced by the need to howl like an animal at the destruction of its progeny.  Observing Spike and his whimpering reluctance to release Buffy for even a moment, had him giving in; the anger and fear combining to create a perfectly animalistic sound of grief.  Recognising something of the demonic rule Spike answered with his own series of sad yowls, perhaps not understanding that the song was for himself.

Buffy clung to him, her face slippery and red from the tears that had not abated since she had first set eyes on him tonight.  Her fingers combed gently through his hair and she resorted herself to making inhuman noises to convey her serious fear at the condition of her mate.  The sensitive pads of her fingers found ribs of scalp, rough with stitching that had not been removed, though vampire healing had closed the skin off over the top.  She flinched, knowing that they would have to cut him open again to get rid of the thread. Her eyes had earlier catalogued all the cuts and bruises visible on his face, but now she knew from the various flinches when in contact that his body would be covered as well, and she swallowed hard knowing that her stomach could well get another workout.

Kissing the side of his mouth in reassurance- both her own and his- she turned again to Angel.  She stayed silent, aware that her earlier question still hung like a death knoll between them.

"I don't know."  Angel never spoke loudly, and he often looked overwhelmed with just the average daily interaction between people and life, but now the challenge was a larger one.  His voice sounded odd to himself, out of control.

"Maybe the ritual..." his voice tapered off, hoping that Buffy knew what he referred to without him having to explain farther.

She sniffed.  "Wouldn't we need Dru?  She is his real Sire, isn't she?"

Her throat was sore, clogged from her endless tears and she couldn't even swallow to rid herself of the painful lump.  She was afraid that if she flushed herself of the little reminder that she hurt then she might fall into a numbness she wouldn't be able to escape from.  This was taking a huge emotional toll- even more than the feelings of leaving heaven- and she wasn't sure if she could survive if she couldn't have Spike back.

She thought more of the ritual that Angel referred to, the one that had first brought Spike into her life when he was desperate to restore his loony girlfriend- and destroy Angel in the process.  She had taken it personally at the time, but knowing Spike like she did now, she had no lingering belief that he hadn't felt regret at the thought of having to destroy a member of his family to return Dru to her former strength.  She frowned in sudden understanding.

"I don't think that would work.  It was to restore her strength, right?  Didn't do anything to improve her insanity."  The bitter barb was ignored for the release of fear that it was.

Angel nodded slowly, feeling frantic at his inability to quickly think of a solution.

"Well, what do you know about what that bitch out there did to him?"  He had changed in his fury, back to the subtle reminders of Angelus, causing little shivers of shock to race over her skin.

Buffy pulled back a little from Spike, trying to look into his eyes.  His confusion confirmed that he didn't have a clue of who they were or what they said.

"She implied that they had tortured him into forcing his demon back to his primitive state.  Riley told us a little earlier, but we really don't know much.  He doesn't recognise any of us, or even understand what we are saying, and he hasn't shaken his demon off since he woke up."  She told all of this to Angel while gently stroking the vampiric grooves of Spike's face, hoping the soothing tones of her voice would encourage him to feel secure with both her and Angel and to let go a little, allowing them to check out what else the Initiative had done to him.

Angel's pensive gaze shimmered a little and he felt a sudden clarity.  His eyes widened in hope as he bent down to kneel near them and tugged on Buffy's hand to pull them into a similar position.  Spike watched him warily, but made no move to pull away and Angel sighed in relief.

"It's like she's made his soul retreat to somewhere safe.  She's allowed the demon to take control.  I don't know how she could have taken away memory and knowledge to make him primeval, though."

Buffy blinked.  "But what can we do to fix him?"

Angel shuddered with hopelessness.  He didn't know what to tell her. Nothing like this had ever been done to a vampire before.  And again, Spike was unique.  If he wasn't so worried he'd be...no, maybe not jealous, but...

"He tasted your blood?"  Angel stared intently at her neck, his mind ticking over fast while trying to think of anything they could do to help the vampire.

"Yeah, he seemed to recognise me enough to stop mauling me.  To not kill me."

Angel nodded, feeling slightly broken at the strained tenor of her voice.  "Right, so we need to bring his mind back.  Maybe a renewal of the claim?..."

"Wh.-what about your blood?  Maybe he would recognise that, too?"

Angel's chocolate brown eyes glistened with hope and a willingness to try anything.  Without word he curled his hand around the neck of his Childe and pulled his fangs to his neck.  A commanding growl broke from his throat and vibrated against the demon lips of Spike, encouraging him to taste.

Without warning the elongated teeth sunk into his cold flesh and he pulled greedily on the blood.  It tasted old, passionate and familiar-family- with remnant traces of the blood he had taken earlier of the girl shape.  Growls of rage and jealousy erupted from his throat as he pushed the brunette abruptly from him.  Angry eyes fixed onto Buffy and he was upon her, ripping her clothes in a frenzy of desperation.  She was his and he needed to reassert his rights immediately.

He turned his head and growled like an enraged tiger at the hulking shape trying to get closer.  To prevent his movement.

Clothing tore from the female body as he held her down, not registering her struggles.  His leg pressed over her own, forcing her to hold still on the floor, and he began shedding his own clothing in a violent passion.  Angel could barely watch, tears flowing from his shattered face as Spike took his naked woman in front of him, plunging his teeth into her neck again as he plunged his engorged cock into her and succumbing to a pace that was punishing.  Branding his property. For his Sire to acknowledge.  Angel dipped his head in acceptance.

Buffy was screaming, almost chanting the name, "Spike..." but he took no notice, the word meaning nothing to him.  Her voice had little impact against her blood, which with each lengthy pull enchanted his senses and brought him a little closer to home.  He continued to thrust as she quieted, and he felt her arms around his back, holding him to her as she sobbed loudly, but willing in hope.  Soon, his body slowed and his long strokes became loving, rather than brutal and he felt almost sorry for the way he had forced her.  He kissed her softly, his psyche aching for the viciousness he had subjected her to.

His mind became lost in a haze of blackness as he cried; he remembered nothing- recognised nothing- except for his home, and now he had hurt her.  He whimpered in apology against her bloody throat, aware enough to withdraw his fangs as soon as the rhythm of her heart had changed.  Her legs had drawn up around him and she held him tightly against her, whispering sounds against his ear that sounded sweet, knowing, loving.  He sucked a nipple into his mouth, the solo pierce of a fang unintentional and withdrew at her small start of pain.  Licking away the damage, he sunk into the bliss of his eventual arrival, and filled her with his seed.  With an urgent knowledge just one word came to him, and he uttered it in relief.

"Love," his voice whispered as he collapsed against her.

All was silent as watery tears and silence filled the room.

Buffy hit the floor in shock, not knowing or doing anything to prevent the forceful removal of her clothes.  Her head was knocked to the side in the rush and she caught sight of a devastated Angel sitting back allowing Spike to rape her.  'No,' her mind objected.  Though afraid, some part of her knew that this primal element of Spike was just being territorial.  Too late did she make the connection that he might taste her essence within Angel's blood, and react badly to it.  Though the force conjured up ugly memories she remained still and allowed the possession to take place, still hoping that maybe this was what they needed to bring him back.

Screaming his name earlier had meant nothing to the out of control vampire, so she just held him, willing him to remember her, and to love her.  She felt humiliated that Angel was watching her like this, but she had the feeling that human rules had flown out the window the second Spike had allowed his fangs to penetrate the skin of his Sire.
 
For one brief moment she had thought it was going to work.  Spike's eyes had lit with some recognition, probably knowing family, but then he had sensed something and dove at her, almost knocking her senseless in his rush to mount her.

She felt like a victim, and shuddered; giving in.  But then his pounding had turned almost gentle in time with the rhythmic gulping of her blood.  A tide was turned as he consumed her and she gasped feeling his tears run onto her skin.  He sobbed against her and she couldn't do anything but hold him to her, her love overriding misery in that small fraction of time.

Almost against her will she came, her body electrified and pulsing with possessive satiation.  Her man, her vampire could do this to her, whether he was soulful or animal, he cared enough to hold her, to know her, and to please her.  His pain broke her heart; he was the lost little boy they were struggling to find.  Almost unaware now she was caught by a single piercing pain at her breast and she called out unknowing, and smiled sadly as he licked the blood from the tiny wound.  She told him everything, how she loved him and was desperate for him to be back with her, whole.  Her voice was soft as she stroked the muscular planes of his back, licking the shell of his ear.

She cried out once in relief as she felt him surge within her and then the wet rush of his fluid as it was released, bathing the insides of her canal.  Her legs held him tight to her and her heart almost stopped when he uttered just one word.

"Love."

And she sobbed around him with hope.
 

Angel could hear the trembling breaths of shock and acceptance fall from Buffy’s lips, and he hung his head ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, his throat raw with grief. “I should have guessed he would taste you. He’s not himself, Buffy.” He raised his eyes to meet hers in a clash of wary discomfort. “Don’t blame him for what he did. He was just being a vampirenot allowing anyone else to touch his mate. He felt he needed to remind you.”

His eyes remained fixed on her, caressing her wet, devastated face in gentle glides as he controlled his fierce desire to let his gaze wander over her exposed flesh. Quiet but angry growls warned him of how aware Spike would be of his motives and he pulled himself up from the floor and turned away. As he lifted his hand to turn the doorknob, Buffy called out and he stopped. His hand was suspended in the air as he kept his hungry eyes fixed on the wood panel in front of him, but waited for her to speak.

“I-I can’t stay like this. Giles, or one of the others could come in, and they wouldn’t understand. Can you cover us with a blanket, and then maybe go to my dorm room and get Willow to give you some clothes? J-Just tell her I need them for tomorrow. Please don’t tell her what h-happened here.”

Still not letting himself glance at her he went to the fold out bed and grabbed a blanket resting on the seat, quickly draping it over the entwined pair before making his exit.

The door clicked closed behind him and he slumped against it. He had never felt such an overwhelming sense of loss in his unlife, and he felt eager for the cold night air to wash some of his despair away.

The walk to Buffy’s dorm allowed him distance and time to recuperate. He was afraid; afraid of the consequences his quick offering had caused. He had never felt so torn in half; his demon and demon law on one side challenging his humanity and soul on the other. He knew that Buffy had been more than shocked to have a fully enraged and primitive vampire jump her, and he didn’t think that she understood all the implications of the act. For all he knew she might interpret Spike’s frenzied attempts to reassert his power through possessionin love with the hateful human act of rape. Her eyes had reflected an acceptance that almost drove him to stake himself.

That the woman he loved had to accept the overpowering advance of an out of control vampire was something he always thought he would be able to protect her from. The past few weeks had brought home a number of truths that he wished he could ignore. That he would never be hers again was the most savage cut. That he no longer had the right to protect her, or even to touch her again made him rage inside. That in his most basic condition, Spike’s demon still protected and claimed her. He had seen the glow of ownership in the amber glint of Spike’s demonic eyes as he had pushed her to the floor, whipped her clothes away from her flesh and thrust violently inside her.

His own demon had risen eagerly within him, wanting to push his silly Childe aside and punish him for thinking he had the right to claim such a power as the Slayer. He had felt no sense of possession or feeling of having his own toy stripped from him. Just a small challenge as the head of the family. He may have taken her innocence at one time, but he had never laid claim to her only wanting to inflict hurt not burden himself with her presence. It was Angel who had left his mark upon her neck, but again it was no claim of forever. The demon in Spike had adhered formally to the rules, and Angel was left to submit to his right. The right to show all that he was the Slayer’s mate and no one could ever taste her again.

He felt slightly alarmed at the unusual quiet of the night and wondered at the absence of all things supernatural. Well, other things supernatural. Then he saw a military group trying to be stealthy and his jaw flexed in fury. He melted into the shadows of a building and let them pass, smelling the three that had earlier been at Giles’s flat. He wanted to jump out and tear them apart, his soul funnily enough screaming for bloody vengeance. For William. It was his demon that allowed them to continue unharmed, for Angelus would rather plot pain than bestow it too quickly.

He continued on until he entered the right building and made his way to Buffy’s dorm room. He could hear quiet chatter on the other side of the door, and quickly tried to control his face as his demon still fought for control. He was furious to his very bones, confusion something he couldn’t cope with right now. His fist banged on the flat wood and he stayed on the other side of the threshold once Willow had opened the door.

“No invites, Willow.”

She raised suddenly terrified eyes to his and took a step back from the door.

“Just here to pick up some clothes for Buffy. Can you get some stuff together for her and I’ll take it back over to Giles’s?”

She nodded and quickly took to the task, stuffing toiletries and clothing into a small bag, pausing before a draw before grabbing a stake and shoving it in there as well. She placed the bag on the floor then pushed it outside with her foot. Angel grimaced but nodded in acceptance, strangely serene that she had accepted his subtle warning. With a tired lift of his hand, he indicated his departure and he was gone.

 

For a long time Buffy remained on the floor, her body weighed down by the continued lethargic presence of Spike. She had felt the exact moment when all his rage had drained away and he had tried to console her with affectionate licks to her mark. She caught her breath as she felt him swell again within her, a small part of her rebelling at the act. Mentally she knew what had just happened, and accepted it. She had taken a vampire as her lover and could hardly object when his nature jockeyed for playtime. If she was to blame anyone for causing her to feel used at this moment, it was Professor Walsh for creating something she had no power over. While his head was hidden against her throat, she marvelled at how disassociated she became from the reality. In her mind she played the bathroom reel, and knowing that even back then it was the desperate vampire trying to make her understand his pain, she found it almost impossible to accept what had happened.

Then he raised his head and for the first time since Riley had returned him to her she looked into blue eyes glowing with love. His fear was unmasked, and her heart shrivelled a little in reaction to what he must also face once he was back to himself. His attempted rape had caused him to seek out his soul so he could treat her kindly, love her gently. This had been no attempt: he had reached fruition, and even though she would never think of what they had just shared as rape, she had a nasty feeling that souled Spike was going to have monumental problems with his actions.

She cupped his cheek and pulled his mouth down to hers, sipping desperately at his taste. Tears dripped from both their eyes as she held his cheek against hers, her lips rubbing against his, but mouths never opening.

Looking once again into his eyes, her heart exploded with truth and she vowed to do all that was possible to bring him back to her, whole.

“I love you,” she whispered, the volume of her voice almost obliterated from emotion.

“Love,” he told her huskily as his hips began to move, and the gentle glow of knowing that always flushed her body began to take over, and she knew she would forgive him everything.



A/N...I had the most wonderful reviews for the last chapter...thank you for the thoughtfulness. I was very nervous about this turn, but things are getting better now, I promise...but don't stop reviewing now we are getting close to the end...I still need encouragement.

Chapter Forty

Maggie Walsh squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.  A flash of humiliation and pain passed over her face as she tried to cross her legs.

"Ah....hello?"  Her call was ineffectual against the snoring man on the sofa, and she rolled her eyes in frustration.

"Um...you asleep over there!  I need to go to the bathroom."  She remained unanswered.  She was hardly surprised that her reasonably quiet voice had no impact through the snorting bull-horn of monotony that was Giles asleep.  She was hesitant to get any louder though- not wanting the Slayer to feel a need to investigate.

She had never really thought before about the movies and novels that talked of hostages being restrained for days on end, but now she could see how unrealistic those plots were.  How was one able to cut oneself off when desperate to use the amenities?

Fortunately, it was at the moment when the sharp pain began to really become unbearable that the one identified as Angelus slammed back into the house.  His rather noisy entrance jolted Giles awake and he garbled something about 'no tea, Mother,' before he was back on his feet and contemplating the strange expression on the vampire's face.  He held the bag up in front of him, almost as an apology, and offered no explanation.  Shortly following that confusing display, both males turned to the captive and wrinkled their noses in disgust.

Refusing to acknowledge their apathy toward her, she grabbed the opportunity for relief.

"I have to go to the bathroom, right now."  Her voice held onto her earlier arrogance of command, but Angel could sniff the fear that radiated from her.

"Unbelievable."  Giles exploded, his hands flung in the air.  "Couldn't you have bloody mentioned that before we put the binding spell on you?"

She quirked her brow and looked at him in surprise.

"I'm your hostage.  I didn't think you would be particularly interested in whether I was hungry, or needed to...ah...freshen up?"

Giles spluttered.  "We're not bloody barbarians."

Then his eyes hardened and she knew that he had started thinking that she probably was.  She really felt like she had ridden a fanbelt tonight, and the spinning journey hadn't yet slowed down.  She was still stunned and not a little miffed that her own boys had so callously given her up to these misfits, even if they seemed to have information that was beyond classified.  She had no idea how this Slayer person could possibly know so much; and the Polgara demon...how did she know that?  It was all a mystery that she would rather try to unravel once she had the chance to empty her bladder.  She looked up to find the man called Giles flicking through a book and with a few biting words she felt a force that had held her bound begin to loosen and drop.  Sighing in relief, she stood on wobbly legs and silently waited for direction to the bathroom.

"You have less than two minutes.  There are bars on the window if you were thinking of trying to get away.  Take longer and I will send Angel in to get you."

She blanched in revulsion and took off at a quick walk, slamming the door behind her.

Giles and Angel were left looking uncomfortably at each other, not knowing what to say.  Giles was eager to hear about their progress, and Angel was eager to keep it quiet.

"I-I, ah, fell asleep.  How are things going in there?"  Giles jerked his head in the direction of his study, and watched Angel for his reaction.  His intent gaze picked up the flinch, but he put it down to earlier fury.

"I think we might be getting somewhere.  But it's slow.  Probably best kept private for the moment."

Giles nodded, then saw the bite marks rapidly healing on the vampires neck.

"Did you think he might recognise your blood?"  He was nodding in approval.  "So, how did that go, then?"  Angel gulped and flinched again, and Giles's Watcher curiosity surged.

"It's rough.  He's a vampire, Giles.  Tasting my blood? Not the best idea I've ever had.  But don't go quizzing Buffy on it, okay?  This is really hard for her."

Without waiting to watch the dawning comprehension and horror on Giles's face, he marched down the corridor, gave the bathroom door a loud pounding before turning to continue to the study and firmly locking the door behind him.  Maggie Walsh exploded from the room as if the hounds of hell had erupted form the toilet bowl to drag her home, and found her seat on the hard chair once again.  Momentarily distracted by Angel's words, Giles hesitated slightly before muttering the incantation that would restrain her to the spot, refraining from reusing the ropes.  He was not that eager to be so close to her again.  She turned his stomach.

As he thought over the clues that Angel had dropped, he felt his body squeeze in upon itself.  He had been warned of Spike's vampiric nature, and the tasting of Angel's blood.  Flashes of Buffy in the hospital after almost being drained by the dark-haired vampire the previous year crowded his mind, and he grabbed the glasses from his face.

"Oh dear God," he mumbled fatalistically, but then he stopped as he remembered.  Another clue.  Angel had left the blond pair together and alone, so Spike musn't have drained the Slayer.  So what could he mean?  His refusal to accept the sexual nature of these teens in his charge made it more difficult for him to contemplate what Angel had implicitly been suggesting.  Spike had tasted Buffy in Angel's blood.

"Oh dear God," he repeated as the glasses fell silently to the floor.

'He reasserted the Claim.  As a vampire.'

Giles was suitably horrified.  He could feel his blood pressure rising with this unnerving idea and he sat boldly still, trying to calm Ripper who was thrashing within him to go and slay.

He hadn't heard her scream, hadn't heard a bloody sound.  Because he'd been asleep, thinking they could handle it.  Good Lord!

He jumped to his feet and commenced pacing, each length going further down the hallway toward the study before swinging back.  About the sixth time he got closer to the door and startled when it swung open and a black figure loomed ahead of him, before determinedly clicking it shut again.  Angel stood steady, waiting until they heard the lock turn on the inside before he grabbing Giles's arm in a punishing hold, dragging him back to the safety of the living room.

"You figured it out then, did you?"  Angel's face was hard, resigned and another point pushed its way into his understanding.

"You watched it happen."  He snapped his arm away.  "You bastard!"

"You don't understand vampire customs, Giles.  It would be cruel to punish him for something he had no control over.  You wanna punish anyone, then have a go at this old hag."

Giles deflated in acceptance, understanding it was a feeling that was becoming widely- well- accepted tonight.  So much intrusion on their relatively safe lives.  Tonight in particular had blown their assumptions and judgements all to hell.

"She understands it, Giles.  He didn't hurt her.  Just scared her for a little while."

"So she isn't scared now, then?"  Giles looked at the brunette in disbelief.

"Surprisingly, no.  I can't get over how deep her love for him is.  In weeks.  How the hell did he pull that off?"  Angel rubbed his hand over weary, watery eyes as he looked to the Watcher for an explanation.  "I mean, the Powers rewarded him, right?  With a soul!  How could Buffy fall for that straight away?  I mean, she got cozy with him the night she found him.  What the hell is that?"

For the first time, Giles paid attention to the vampire's misery, and felt a stab of pity.  For a moment.  Truth be told, he thought Spike was by far the more deserving vampire for his Slayer.  It was easy to label good because of a soul, but no one ever seemed to commend the overturning of nature itself to choose the better.  Angel was forcefully encumbered with his soul.  Without even thinking about it, Giles knew that no chip could have influenced Angelus to turn to the Scoobies for help.  When Spike was back to his vibrant self, he must quiz him about his minions and why he didn't force them to help him.

Shaking himself from the unfavourable ruminations, he reflected quickly on Angel's questions.

"To tell you the truth, I think a little of the future Spike's essence came with the soul, and it touched her.  Rather simple, really.  Well, unless it appalls you.  But strangely, they seem quite acceptable together.  When you make the effort, he is- rather- likeable I suppose."

A loud snort from across the room got both their attention, and they were drawn to their other problem.

"What's her deal?"  Angel's voice was dangerously lacking in emotion, and that alone had Giles fighting goosebumps on his skin.

"She's the one that put our little jigsaw Frankenstein together.  She had Spike kidnapped and did whatever she did to him.  We had originally planned on trying to convince her to destroy her pet project, Adam.  However, I have a nasty feeling that she won't be cooperative."

Angel's eyes narrowed as he dropped to his haunches, bringing himself into eye level with the magically restrained woman.  Then his face broke into the most evil smile she had ever seen.  Angel displayed his demon unhindered, no longer able to control the release as his enhanced senses picked up the distinct smell of blood from up the hall, as well as the tiny whimpers of pleasure coming from the one girl he couldn't stand to hear it from.  He knew that the claim process would consist of continual sexual joinings throughout the night, and the only thing that was saving his sanity was the hope that Spike would prevail and that each time he reached climax it would encourage him back to the present.  His demon eyes, however, reflected none of that gentility of thought and he felt pleasure course through his body at the growing waft of fear from right in front of him.

"I think she'll be cooperative.  In fact, I think if we take her to her little demon soldier boy right this minute, she'll help us decapitate him... or be decapitated herself.  How about it, Giles?  Feel like a little trip to the Initiative?"

For one small second, Professor Walsh felt relieved that she would be free. Then she thought of her son, Adam, and though she was more than a little on edge that these people predicted a future for her experiment not quite on the plans, she knew that it was at a close.  As skeptical as they may be, she didn't actually want the death of children on her hands.  Or humans at all, if she could help it.  So she nodded her head in resignation.

"I will take you there and you can do what you like.  Just let me go afterwards?"

With a look of agreement, Angel waited for the barrier to release her, then took her in a grip that he intended to hurt.  In the uncertain darkness of night, Giles and Angel headed to Initiative headquarters to rid themselves of a potential problem, and save Buffy from further torment.
 
 

Chapter Forty-One

It was an awkward walk from the flat to the secret entrance of the Initiative. A tall, reserved brunette flanked either side of the Professor as she attempted to accept that her project would be very soon deactivated.

“Buffy said that Adam gets his power from a uranium core inside his chest?”

Giles was shivering a little from the chill in the air and was determined that after all the trauma of the past few weeks, at least one source of worry would be eliminated. They needed to concentrate on Spike; returning him to form. His lips twisted in a satisfied smirk that Spike himself would be proud of. He was grateful that the problem of the chip removal was already taken care of. With a little luck, this sojourn into the Initiative base would be their one and only.

Maggie Walsh merely nodded, not eager to encourage conversation with her captors just grateful that she would soon be free. She briefly considered activating Adam before he was complete so he could take these two out and rid her of their interference. The memory of Riley, Forrest and Graham giving her looks of disgust and betrayal stopped her though, and she felt cold with the knowledge that this project might have easily gotten out of control and hurt the people that she had been trying to save.

Darkness shadowed every step that they took, beyond blackened and looming trees, jutting out headstones, and dewy brittle grass. The night reeked of the supernatural and of monsters. She shivered with past memories of childhood fears and nightmares.

The Professor had not found it necessary to come and go from headquarters at this entrance, but her intent study of all maps of the Initiative gave her a good theoretical knowledge. She found the entrance without the smallest hint of difficulty.

Though tingles of caution set Angel’s muscles flexing, he held onto her arm as she took them through the tunnel. Once they made it through, they hit an almost blinding light. Angel gripped her arm almost savagely, not allowing her to move forward while he allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness. He allowed his senses to seek knowledge and make sure they wouldn’t walk into a group of soldiers with guns and be done for before their mission had even begun.

He heard only a few heartbeats, and none too close by, so with a not so gentle nudge he pushed her forward, Giles bringing up the rear while holding his crossbow at attention.

“You get us to Adam without running interference, and I won’t kill you. If Giles gets killed in any attempt to doublecross us, I’ll have you drained before they could get a taser near me. Understand?”

His eyes were hardened black with glinting amber flecks of determined rage. The knowledge of the retribution to come when they found they could do nothing for the other vampire chilled her heart to a moment of inactivity, and she gasped suddenly and grasped her chest. Struggling to continue breathing, though the fear overwhelmed her, she nodded decisively and headed to the door marked 314. Maggie’s pass was always with her and she took it out smartly, swiping it with regret and lead the way into the room.

The horrified gasp came from Giles as he finally set eyes on the monster that they had the chance to stop before it could wreak havoc. He was put together from human and demon parts like a giant jigsaw puzzle, and now he understood Buffy’s references to Frankenstein.

“Where did you get the human?” He didn’t really want an answer and so was relieved when she stubbornly remained silent.

Angel said nothing, just clenched his jaw in disbelief that a human could be so unbelievably stupid to create something so hideous. Then again, she had somehow managed to revert Spike back to a prehistoric demon perhaps one of the first to walk the earth. She was dangerous with knowledge and cunning; he and Giles would have to decide what to do with her before he left again for LA. She couldn’t be allowed to remain free for fear she could take this experiment up again. It was a topic that Buffy would have to remain ignorant of, but he knew that Giles would help him do what had to be done. Having settled it in his mind, he turned to her, his face so engraved with hate and disgust that she shrank back a little against her creature.

With an earthshaking growl, Angel lifted the axe he had brought with him, raising it like lightening over his head and appeared to slice it directly at the woman unknowingly shielding 314. With a terrified scream, she dove to the side and the blade of the axe embedded into the chest of the hybrid demon on the gurney. Angel surged forward with another battle cry and slammed his fist into wet, squishy tissue, ripping out a metallic cylinder from its breast. He held it triumphantly in the air. Angel turned to the woman shaking with fear on the floor and took a moment to let his demon relish her scent. Not looking back, he handed the uranium core to Giles, then swung the axe back at the gurney and allowed his destructive side full rein on the abomination. Anger, and hurt, and fear came to the fore and he howled out his misery at the decimated state of his Childe, the loss of his girlfriend, and his demotion in rank with the Scoobies.

By the time he felt his demon begin to calm, Adam lay in a multitude of pieces around the room, gory tissue shredded beyond repair. He sighed with evil satisfaction. Turning once again to the Professor, he grinned at her now red lab coat, and the stringy strips of intestines that dangled from her ashy hair. With a rare laugh, he turned to Giles to see if he was also amused at the sight. The only option was a full burst of hilarity. Dripping from every square inch of the watcher’s jeans and jacket were slices of demon skin and metallic looking wiring. His glasses were splattered with blood and he was currently swiping his face with a hanky usually reserved for the always smudged lenses.

“So, whaddaya think? Should we bag him and take the remains with us, in case they get any more ideas?” The amusement drained abruptly from Angel’s lips as he jerked his head back to Professor Walsh, still cowering on the floor. He received a nod of assent and Giles quickly began to seek something in the room adequate to collect together as much of the remains as possible for later burning.

As Giles took charge of that detail, Angel lowered himself to the Professor’s level and allowed his demon to own his features for a little longer. She shrank back in a mix of terror and revulsion, and he felt the stirring of revenge deep inside. Angel had never felt so torn against his soul to punish a human as he did since meeting her, and was angrier because of it. The precarious hold he had on his soul always worried him, but lately, he felt the control slipping and knew he had to find a way sometime soon to anchor it before he possibly managed to lose it and go on another rampage.

As Giles finished and took a place by the door, indicating his readiness to escape, Angel took a vicous hold of her arm and hauled her from the floor.

“You didn’t think this was the end did you, Professor? We have another demon difficulty to resolve.”

He turned quickly and caught the evil glimmer in the other man’s eyes. With this encouragement from Ripper, he would have even more difficulty keeping himself under control. His need to rip out her throat was charging his body with overwhelming strength, and he dropped her arm, suddenly scared. Grabbing the bag from Giles, he thrust the woman at him, before opening the door and sensing their safety before leading the way out.

In single file they retraced their steps, a wary Angel in the front. Adrenaline surged through the two men as they heard voices heading in their direction, but as they rounded the corner, weapons raised, it was only Finn and his two cohorts that they encountered. Riley raised his hands at the sudden confrontation, and they all stopped, not saying a word for several torturous seconds.

With a whoosh Giles released his held breath and stepped forward, knowing instinctively that Riley would have difficulties taking instruction from a vampire.

“We have destroyed project 314,” he told them, holding up the clear thick plastic containing the gory remains. The soldiers didn’t even flinch, but nodded while still refraining from activating weapons.

“We still need her. For Spike.” The voice that spoke to them was hard and steely and they knew better than to challenge a Master Vampire solid and vengeful in front of them, so nodded, allowing them to continue their passage to the cemetery exit.

As they left, the feeling of dread had dissipated and with a lighter heart, Giles pushed the woman toward his flat so that they could at last get some rest. And just like that, Maggie Walsh realised that she had been stupid to be relieved at being free. The knowing spark in the vampire’s eye was enough to tell her that she would never be free again.

As the thought of her own death wound tightly around her heart she again gasped and clutched at the thumping muscle beneath her breast and had the insane pleasure of knowing that she would outwit them first with her own natural death. She collapsed in a lifeless heap on that dark, but brittle grass, clouded by the darkened shadows of night.

 

Chapter Forty-Two

Buffy ached.  For the past ten hours straight Spike had taken every part of her in electrifying possession until her voice was hoarse and her limbs limp.  She was exhausted.  Every time he had made love to her and reached fruition he had gently sunk his fangs into her, taking small sips of her powerful blood, and shared another word as it was revealed to him.

"Love."

"Home."

"Hope."

"Mate."

"Yours."

"Mine."

"Beautiful."

With each revelation her tears flowed anew, her heart flooded with devotion as he licked and kissed her exposed skin.  His hands had wandered, sketching odd shapes and promises over her flesh until delicious chills pushed all concept of reality from her mind.  Her night had become flushed with images of the past, the claim making its impact with renewed influences of power and possession.  She saw him as human, foppish hair and clothing dating him more than his tremendous knowledge of life currently did.  She saw and recognised his first love and the harsh way she had treated him and his meeting with Drusilla, and Angelus. She saw the secrets- the things that Angel had never shared with her- the understanding of why he called himself Spike's Sire.  Flashes of knowing came to her throughout the night, right up until his entry to Sunnydale.  She saw him watch her dance, watch her fight on video, saw his attention to Dru; his caring.  But more powerful than the watching, was the feeling, for she felt every emotion joined to those flashes of his history and she felt momentarily flabbergasted.  His first view of her had signaled the change, but he hadn't recognised it.  Dru's persistent encouragement to 'kill the Slayer' had nothing to do with approving his reputable skill.  Drusilla had seen even then that she was to lose to a blond wave of sunshine who would be the force of her White Knight's redemption.

The final joining had been the most intense, and she could feel the opening of Spike and even feel the trust that spread between them, encouraging his soul to venture out of hiding a little more at a time until he was on the brink of returning fully.  His remembrance of words did more than spark her hope.  She delved into the glory of this moment, the spark of singularity and belonging of what she was experiencing totally overwhelming in its true beauty.  She felt that these moments they shared were almost reverent, holy.  She was accepting his spirit as his human personality swamped back to his consciousness.  Finally, they had lain gasping, rocketed by the consuming bliss of being soul mates, and the burning heat of his eyes seared her flesh till it was tingling anew with anticipation.  But they were at last knowing.  He knew.

He knew!  As Buffy's own eyes widened in excitement she flung her arms around him and squeezed tightly.  She was so relieved and grateful that he was back that she ignored the flinch of his body against hers.  As he tried to pull away she held him tighter, refusing after the intense emotion of the night to allow him to withdraw from her.  Her mind was blank of everything but her need to rejoice over his return.  So when he finally was able to thrust her away from him- and push his way to his feet-she was in emotional lockdown, no bad memory of the past ten hours breaching the barrier holding her together.

As she looked up at him, her eyes hooded with renewed desire, it took her long moments to register that he continued to move away from her, then snagging hold of his jeans and pulling them on almost frantically.  Finally she took note of the deep tormented creases on his face and sat up, clinging to the blanket that had fallen around her body.

"Spike?" she asked hesitantly.

He started at her voice, pulled back from his foray into the past with a grimace.

"How...how could you let me do that to you?"

"Do what?"  She was genuinely confused, a horrible sense of fear that things were about to be blown sky high.  As his hand swung wildly, finger gesturing her lack of clothing and the bites all over her body.  He was speechless too soon after regaining the ability to speak.

"Angel!"  He bit the name out with a residue of fury and loathing, and with a thud she came back to the event that had inspired the frenzy of sex.  She sighed in defeat, knowing that the train wreck had begun its crash off the rails, and she had no way of halting its progress.  She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, sparking another burst of his helpless anger.

"Spike?  I love you."

It took the wind abruptly out of his sails and he fell to his knees, his head bowed.  When he raised his face to hers his eyes were filled with tears.

"I raped you!"

The exclamation was nasty and she flinched.

"No, you really didn't."

They stared defiantly at each other, both refusing to lose in the staredown.

"I threw you to the ground, ripped the clothes from your struggling body and fucked you senseless.  Funny, but pretty bloody sure that counts as rape.  I did it to you again."  At first his voice had held strong to the rage- and the self-condemnation he was determined to cling to- but by the end his voice was so quiet she had to lean forward to catch the last syllable.  When she did she straightened her back with purpose, ready to shoot him down the next time something stupid came out of his mouth.

"First, you never raped me.  The future you attempted to rape me because I had confused you to the point of madness.  I am not angry about something I have not experienced."  She smiled at him in encouragement, but slapped her knee in frustration when he refused to look at her.  "Second, you weren't you earlier.  Maggie Walsh took everything away from you except your base need to survive and be a demon.  She made your soul hide for protection.  But Spike, she failed.  You didn't hurt any of us.  As soon as you tasted me you didn't even try to hurt anyone.  Third, you did scare me, but I understand why you attacked me like that.  You tasted something of me in Angel's blood and you had to protect your property.  I was the mate of a pure demon, Spike.  Human, all-Chosen Slayer Buffy.  I belonged to your demon, Spike, and he made no attempt to hurt me or turn me.  To tell you the truth, I'm in awe of the love and protection your demon has for me."

He was still silent and she dropped the blanket and crawled forward so that she was right before him.  She placed both her hands on either side of his face, pleased when he growled at the sight of her naked body before him.

"It was a good thing, Spike."  She leaned forward and left a tiny, fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth, feeling powerful at the catch of his breath.  "Now I know for sure I can trust the demon."

His hands went around her, skimming the curve of her hip and bottom, winding around a thigh until he coerced one leg up over him.  As her lips found his, she used them with her tongue to repeat her assurances, feeling giddy with need at his emotional response.  She allowed her hand to fall, gently brushing over his erection before popping the stud of his jeans and sliding the zipper down.  The heaviness of his hard cock felt at home in her hand as she squeezed him, swallowing his tortured groan down her throat.

Slowly rubbing against him was no longer enough, the fire between her legs becoming slick and needy as she rubbed her protruding nipples against the hard perfection of his chest, and she finally sunk down and swallowed him whole.  As she moved up and down, her body held enough away to allow her nipples to rub against him in slow, obliterating torture.  She felt the pressure build and her eyes grew heavy with intent.  His hands cupped her rear and began to pull her hard onto him and the ache began to reassert itself.

Her hands slid over his skin, from his neck over his shoulders and down his ribs until she finally wound them round his back and pulled herself closer.  Her mouth found his neck and licked a spot up high, just below his ear.  Licking soon became too passive and the nibbles she bestowed found their mark in his elicit growls.  Buffy felt the cramping tightness of her skin, the clenching of her stomach muscles as she tried to hold off, but she was so prepared for him always that the smallest touch of his cool skin against hers set her on fire.  Their stunning cries of release coincided with the sudden slam of the front door, and they smiled into each other's eyes as they heard Angel and Giles shouting at each other.  Their panting recovery and quick visit to the paradise they found in each other blocked out the actual words from the other room, and they surrendered to a new understanding and comfort.

It was okay.  They had broken records tonight.  They had broken curses.  And they had broken the hold of the Initiative woman who had tried to destroy them all.  With an exhausted sigh that Buffy felt was becoming repetitive, she kissed Spike's neck before pulling a bag toward herself and locating some clothes.

"Shower first, then I guess we'd better come up with a plan to take out Adam."

Spike stared at her in admiration mixed in with something stronger.  Adoration.

Another brief kiss and she stood, allowing his deflated member to slip from inside her.

"You wanna come with?"

Standing, with an old brown blanket wrapped around her good bits, Spike had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.  With a cocky grin, he leapt to his feet while firmly tucking himself back into his pants.

"Very cheeky, luv."

Holding hands, they silently opened the door and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom, feeling sneaky as they bypassed Angel and Giles still arguing in the kitchen.  They allowed the water to run a little too long as they got caught up in some more kissing, then got to the business of cleansing their bodies of ten hours of continuous sex.

Amen!
 
 

“We’re in a bloody mess now then, aren’t we?”

Giles angrily drilled his fingers on the smooth surface of the dining table as he occasionally swished back a mouthful of scotch. His frustration was etched indelibly around his mouth, and his eyes flashed in cranky admiration every time they fell on the figure of a very brooding vampire. Angel sat hunched over, his head in his hands.

“What the hell are we gonna do now?” His voice was almost whiny in the inflection of panic and he suddenly threw his hands in the air, got abruptly to his feet and then stood shockingly still.

“I still can’t believe you nearly plowed that axe through her head. And the way she jumped aside …and then all painted in gore; those are some images that I will hold dear.” Giles burst into tipsy laughter and received an amused but slightly shocked look from Angel.

“She is dead, you know. I put on my bad act and shocked the shit out of her.”

Giles looked at the straight face of the blaspheming vampire and couldn’t hold onto the hilarity. He chuffed his amusement, revealing that he had already done more than sip a single glass of scotch before taking a seat at the table.

The sound of the halt of rushing water from the shower had them quickly calming down, not wanting to be involved in insensitive laughter when Buffy left the bathroom. She needed their support right now, not to mention some brilliant ideas on how to cure Spike. Unfortunately, thought Giles, now that the wicked witch of the west had carked it, they were hardly likely to come up trumps in the near future.

As they prepared to face Buffy when she emerged from the bathroom, their earlier tension again rose to entwine them with invisible restraints. The images of the night, though satisfying every bloodthirsty impulse for revenge that Giles could call to his alter-ego, were dashed with freezing water in view of the further problems they were yet to embark upon.

Buffy’s quiet giggles caused dual frowns from the men awaiting her appearance, and they wondered if she had cracked from the emotional turmoil of her recent experiences. When she finally surfaced, all clean and refreshed and holding the hand of the resident bleached Big BadAngel and Giles swallowed hard in disbelief.

“ ‘ello blokes.” Spike grinned at their matching stunned expressions and waited patiently for each one to drag his jaw from the floor.

“Ho-how, when, I mean, um, what happened?” Giles was the first to recover and as realisation finally sank in he grinned like a delirious fool. He felt happy. The smile faltered as he contemplated why exactly he felt happy, then with a simple “what the hell” accepted it and went back to being happy.

“Why Rupert, you should know that lots of quality shagging can cure a man of all his ills!”

Giles spluttered his surprise and embarrassment at the comment and proceeded to smear the already smudged glass lenses in his grimy handkerchief.

It took this action for Buffy to take in the appearance of the other two men, and she turned her nose up delicately.

“Ewwww, what on earth have you two been up to?”

“Whatever it was, it sure looked like fun.” Spike pouted his jealousy.

Angel could not tear his eyes away from his Childe. His senses picked up the hesitancy that was well concealed, and he knew that Spike was trying to cover the unease he felt about the mode of his recovery with opinionated bravado. For the most part, it seemed to throw them all off track. Choosing to not comment on the night spent locked behind the study door, he strode forward and gathered Spike in an uncharacteristic hug. Without saying one word he stepped back and the vampires nodded to each other in understanding and gratitude. From a connection over a century old, they communicated their apologies and acceptance, then let it go. Angel felt a wash of tension fall from his back and determined to show his affection for his family more often. Not his hate and intolerance.

Buffy slipped an arm around Spike’s waist and leaned into him to both comfort him and be comforted in return. Both Angel and Gilesmissed her pointed look, so she chose to remind them that there had been a topic of conversation current.

“Giles. Watcha been doing?”

“Well, funny story really,” he began, a nervous grin twitching his lips. Within half an hour the story was told, accompanied by intermittent expressions of horror, outrage and guilt, with a little touch of remorse, though that last only came from Buffy.

“Whew.” Buffy collapsed back in Spike’s lap now that they occupied a comfy seat on the sofa. “So, that seemed easy. I like this knowing of the future. Giles, did you write a list of all the things Spike and I told you about the other events in the future?”

With a new preoccupation Giles stood and went to locate his writing pad which contained a large list of garbled events. He frowned momentarily; his glasses were too smudged to aid him in deciphering the blurred events written on the page. He jumped as the phone rang, wondering who would be ringing at such an ungodly hour.

Giles snagged the receiver with a sense of dread and listened to the cultured tones of a Watcher from over the ocean, letting him know that Faith was on the loose.

“Oh dear,” he exclaimed, attempting again to polish lenses filthy with demon guts and blood. He seemed completely unaware as he contemplated the list again, and recognised that this must be when Faith would try to swap bodies with Buffy.

“What does ‘Oh dear,’ mean in a fit?” Spike seemed eager to catch up on all his missed wit in one session, but the question had weighed on the mind of all present in the flat.

“It means that we have to stop Faith from trying to take over Buffy’s body.”

In sudden awareness, Spike jumped to his feet. “Too bloody right we have to stop her. How about we keep Buffy here while Peaches and I go and find her?”

Angel and Giles wore matching expressions of concern.

“Don’t you think you should take some time to get yourself together before you go rushing back out to the fight?”

Spike knew Angel was right, but that didn’t prevent the slope of his shoulder dip in resignation. He nodded his head in the supplication of a Childe, just this once feeling thankful for Angel’s curious support.

He sat back beside Buffy and curled her hand in his. His eyes remained fixed on the floor and Buffy looked at him in worry, but the belief that her mother might remain in danger if she didn’t quickly arrive to face off with Faith made her switch her focus.

“I think she goes to my house first. That’s where I saw the switch happen.”

“Okay, then I go to your place. I still have an invite, don’t I? In case your mother won’t let me inside?”

Buffy could hear the hurt in Angel’s voice, the fear that she had already barred him from every corner of her life, even if it was just the freedom to enter her home. She smiled reassuringly at him, and nodded her assent.

“Don’t let her grab your hand. I’m pretty sure she can’t swap her essence with a vampire, or even that she would want to. But you can never tell what might happen if she tries it.”

With a decisive move to the door, Angel grabbed hold of his coat and melted into the night. Everyone remained quiet, Giles again taking his place at the table and nursing another glass of scotch. Belatedly his eyes fell on the excluded vampire and he filled another glass and passed it over. The two men exchanged a comfortable smile and Giles once again sat back, and began to giggle. Then he laughed. And roared with such an intense sense of fun that he had Buffy and Spike sharing in his amusement.

“What?” Buffy called the query out amidst a heavy burst of giggles and Giles struggled to gain some control.

“Her face!” He spluttered helplessly. “She thought Angel was going to split her head open with the axe. Oh God, the look on her face.” He chuckled a little more then suddenly became grimly serious. “But she is dead now so I suppose it is ill to make fun of her.” His eyes twinkled as he caught Spike’s amused twist of lips, and fell again into a spate of hilarity.

Buffy rolled her eyes and just thanked God that she had her boyfriend back in one piece, and that this time Faith wasn’t going to use her body as a raving ho machine. Sighing in relieved contentment, she lay back against a hard shoulder; waiting for Angel to return with Faith she closed her eyes and drifted off.

A/N...okay everyone, almost at the end now...any thoughts??
 

Chapter Forty-Four

Blooming roses stood out everywhere, once fresh scarlet petals drifting from cut stems as if deprived of life.  They fell and littered the floor while writhing brunettes crushed them: naked they claw, and bite and fuck beyond human capability.  With a graceful calm, the male stills his thrusting to spread his strong fingers over the smooth whiteness of her throat, adding pressure to the squeeze as her lustful eyes faded into terror, unrevealed in the sickly sweet smile that seizes her face.  As her breath is cut off, the smile remains. Fangs take a vicious, hungry bite from her exposed column, blood tracking down in a thick river to crest her large breast through force of volume alone, swirling erotically around the rock hard nipple before dripping with finality over the top and to the ribs.

The girl takes gasping breaths as the hands finally allow her freedom, her head turned to the side to avoid the acid look of the ridged face leering down at her.  The head falls and a tongue flicks out to lap at the pools of blood, occasionally teeth scraping at the rosebud of her breast causing new rivulets of the reddest rush of fluid.  She was mutilated, and loving it.  In a turn, their faces became clear, and for just one second it was Faith before her dark glossy curls faded to blond, and the figure became one who had been determined dust a long time before.  But the man remained the same, pumping his angry crimson, engorged cock to and fro from her cavity.  The face a twisted parody of an angel, the blissful acceptance of vampire.  Darla, her face enraged but eager, moaning and rubbing against his hard body, fingers stroking the ridges almost with affection.

Her body visibly shudders with completion before thrusting the man away with great power.  He snarls as he stalks back to her but her face changes and she jumps to her feet, snarling in return.  They circle each other warily, both naked to the core, lust and affection clashing across the divide.  Enough, they lunge for each other's neck and fangs sink in, breast pressed against defined chest muscles and tanned skin, cock held viselike between two milky white thighs.  No blood gushes, but both swallow greedily before the fucking continues, once again falling to the pillow of falling rose petals, and one word is screamed when a peak is once again obtained.

"Angelus."

A screaming Buffy hit the floor in a terrified tangle with a thump.  Immediately she was scooped up into shaking arms and her head placed against a smooth shoulder.  She gave in to the knowledge, her fear pushing beyond herself as she tried to dig herself into the skin pressed against her face.

"Oh God," she began almost hopelessly.  "Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God..." the line repetitive and heedless as the misery overwhelmed and she became lost in memory and death.  Innocent, needless death. Jenny's death.  She rocked against the arms holding her tight, her coherence for the moment disappearing in a cloud of expectation that she wasn't yet ready to share.

The sound of a door shutting and hesitant steps breached her introspective state, and her memories faded slowly like vanilla ice-cream.  Not fast like double chocolate, and for that her anger built until it flashed the fences she had begun to erect, and Determined! Buffy finally entered the building.  She raised her face, beyond embarrassed that she had allowed herself to become so overwhelmed by the dream, and she stood, determination rolling off her like 'out-of- control' surf.

"What happened?"  Giles directed the question to Buffy, but his eyes strayed to the worried expression transforming the face of the blond vampire.  His eyes caught the troubled shake of Spike's head as Buffy tried to grab hold of words.

"It was a Slayer dream, I think."  Her voice was low, deadly almost in its dislike.

The men were left to wonder what dislike had tainted so sharply her earlier happiness.

For all of three seconds.

"Angelus," she spat, and their understanding was immediate and chilling.

Giles, now clean of demon grunge, sat wearily in his armchair and found a fresh hanky, glasses aiding his thoughtful movements.  The activity for some reason heightened his thinking skills, and also watered down unwanted images- much like a half bottle of scotch was likely to do.  And with images of a lifeless Jenny posed erotically on his bed suddenly swimming in his head, he decided right now was the perfect time to resume his earlier drinking.

As they all sat quiet, contemplative, they were unprepared for the bang of the opening door and the entrance of a really pissed off Faith and a sheepish Angel.  Faith took one step away from her captor and collapsed at his feet as his fist connected with her face.  Already she was deformed from bruises and swelling, and with silent cooperation she was trussed up and tied to a chair, much like Maggie Walsh had been earlier.

Her defeated posture sent a sigh of relief through those gathered, and they at last felt confident enough to turn their backs away to find repose.

Buffy's calm was short-lived, and though the buzzing that electrified her danger senses had her nearly bouncing into conflict, Angel ignored her as he turned to the Watcher and wondered aloud what was to become of her.

Giles rubbed his hand across his face in defeat.  It would be a miracle to ever sleep again.  Looking hard into the steady stare of the brunette, he told them exactly what the Council plans would be- bolstered by his knowledge of what actually happened from Buffy's visions- and felt a sense of satisfaction at Faith's frightened quailing.

His quick glimpse to the side revealed an unfocused Slayer, one who reeked of tension, and Giles recalled those startling moments before Angel had arrived, and the name Angelus jumped back to the forefront of his mind.  He was positive it was Angel sitting before him now, and he let out the held breath he had unconsciously pulled in with the anticipation of a fight to defend their lives.

Angel stood in front of them-statuesque in stillness-his face a mask of concern as he looked from one altered expression to the other.  No one spoke; no one sought to fill him in on the change that had occurred since the last moment he was in front of them before departing to retrieve Faith.  Nervousness rushed up through his groin to his throat, and his demon tickled his conscience with a promise of lust and darkness.  His eyes captured the love and closeness between his now souled Childe and ex-girlfriend, and he felt his control once again compromised by a challenge for dominance.  Angelus clawed, scratched- but he continued to hold the evil at bay.  His body went rigid from the struggle and he noticed with a sense of growing alarm Spike's eyes caught his in query.

The draw to darkness had never been so great while with soul, until he found his Childe battered and hiding behind the ravages of time, stripped of all that made him Spike.  His thirst for blood had taken him unawares, and he was horrified to admit quietly to himself that he had felt shifts, just subtle and fleeting, but shifts nonetheless, to Angelus.  There had been moments, the demon had pushed humanity to the side and triumphed.

His eyes caught and held the shimmering but enlightened green pools of misery that belonged to Buffy, and his pathetic need to hide and lick his wounds became a force to be answered.

"Do you want the Council to take her?"  He asked Giles the question, knowing that despite the history with the Slayer, no one in the room really wanted her to end with the Council sweeper team.

"No."  His answer was brief, to the point.  Watching for the next sign as tension became a tangible thickness in the room.

"Good."  Angel went to the heavily restrained girl, and lifted her over his shoulders.  "I'll take her with me.  We'll sort something out.  Maybe I can help her."

Without discussion, without consent, he left them alone and gaping.

With Buffy's face reflecting understanding and dawning fear.
 

Chapter Forty-Five

"Are you bloody kids mental?"

Spike sat forward, hands flexing through his hair and on the verge of tearing out a couple of sizeable chunks.  All chatter stopped and focused upon him, and all of a sudden he shrank back not entirely comfortable with being in the spotlight, even if that had been his regular position over the past weeks.

"Well excuse me, Dead Boy Junior, but try and see this from our side.  We've never been excluded from the action; always been part of the plan, the follow-through, the muck-up, and hey, even the hospital run, particularly for yours truly.  So don't go getting down on us for feeling a little miffed that Big Vamp Daddy-O and Pappa Giles went and had all the fun.  Where's the Apocalypse?  Nada!  Bupkis!  All out, Senoritas! They didn't even take photos.  We now just have a supremely boring summer ahead of us."  Xander slumped back in his seat, defeated.

A second later and Spike followed posture.  "Yeah.  Always like my vicarious spots of violence.  Then he took hold of that whole Faith bird situation and adios.  Back to L.A.  Ponce never could share."

The crowded room nodded with him in sympathy, their earlier feelings of betrayal slightly dampened by the vampire's obvious misery.

The Scoobies had thrashed their way into Giles's place the moment the sun had set, bringing maps, laptops and other paraphernalia deemed important in the take down of a monster of Frankenstein proportions.  Their nervous energy, laced with giddy excitement, came to an abrupt end when Spike announced that Adam had bit the big one-due to the dynamic duo of Angel and Giles- and that the "'kiddies' should all calm themselves down so some of us can honour the broody one in peace and bloody quiet!"

Their simultaneous deflation was almost comical, and Buffy nearly felt sorry for them, until she got that twinge that reminded her that she had been kept in the dark about the mission as well.  Admittedly she had other things on her mind at the time.  Like possessive-primitive vampire boyfriends who found it necessary to invade her body with every physical implement he possessed.  But still, she wasn't used to sitting on the side while others took over her job.  Actually, it was kind of nice, once she really thought about it.  But it better not ever happen again.

Thinking was really taking over her night, though.  They had all chosen to relocate to the Summers's house, thanks in large part to access to lots of soda, chips, and the important technology like a current television and DVD machine.  These points were so far up on Giles's abode that the move had brooked no argument.

So, though some movie off the 'newest release' shelf was currently flashing on the screen, no one paid it the smallest bit of attention while the argument of everyone's worth within the Scooby Gang raged on.  The occasional comment from Buffy was enough to divert everyone's attention from her introspective stance, except for the veiled knowing gaze of an almost-healed Spike, and she allowed herself to dedicate some of her attention to the things that bothered her.

There was something about Angel that gave her a sense of unease; that sent chills up and down her arms whenever she remembered that look in his eye, the slump of his body, the shadow of darkness that seemed to cling to him from the moment he had renewed acquaintance with Spike.  She was afraid that his jealousy might begin to push him over the edge, or that he might take risks with his soul.  She wasn't sure though.  There had been no vision detailing events with Angel, so she was in the dark as to what to expect with him.  She only knew that something was wrong, and it bothered her.  It bothered her a great deal.

She felt quite overwhelmed with how easy it had been to eradicate Adam, and with the special project out of the bag- so to speak- the Initiative problem was pretty much wrapped up and no longer her concern.  The ease of the whole thing made her feel slightly ill.  It was Buffy's normal experience that things did not go so easily.  She felt monumentally torn.  Was this the Powers That Be rewarding them for many years of service by allowing her and Spike to change the events of the world?  Or was something very big about to go 'Boo', and knock them all out of their ivory tower?

Her reverie was interrupted with Giles affirming the time for a little housekeeping.  His big flowery, monotone speech left Buffy feeling like she was strolling through liquid air- slow and weighed down- until she heard the word 'magic'.  And another of her concerns seemed about to be dealt with, bringing her lethargic mental abilities sharply into focus.

"I have made arrangements for Willow and Tara to take instruction at the Coven in England.  Apparently they have felt a growing force from Sunnydale for quite some time.  They were a little, um, annoyed, that I haven't sought their advice earlier than now."  Giles rubbed his glasses in embarrassment, quickly tucking the hanky back in his pocket and propping the glasses on his nose when his colour softened and he was ready to continue.  "I know that you probably think that we are being extreme with sending you out of the country, Willow..."

"I don't understand why I need that much help, anyway."

"It's all very well to master the basics, but you have already made some very damaging mistakes and need to learn control.  You would never embark on any of your science experiments or...ahh...computing whatsimajigs...without the proper knowledge and instruction.  Would you?"

Willow bowed her head and accepted his wish.  Then, in normal Willow perkiness, she looked on the bright side and thought of all that England weather and culture- not to mention magical atmosphere.

Giles sighed in relief, having achieved one of his goals, and sank back to let the others have their moment.  What with all the bruised egos from being left out of the fight he was positively bewildered and exhausted.

Once they had all settled down again and turned to focus on the movie that was more than half way over, Buffy continued to think of the things that bothered her.  She had to finish up college for the year and she had already missed so many classes.  Not to mention that one of her Professors was dead.  And as luck would have it, she was doing well in Professor Walsh's class.  The pout that settled on her lips was quickly seized by an attentive Spike, his eyes having remained on her rather than the movie, her troubled facial expressions building a cloak of unease around her that he was hesitant to cross.

He sucked her pouty lip into his mouth, his playful tongue flicking it gently before letting it 'pop' from between his lips.  His playfulness earned him his reward and she smiled at him.  She took his hand, looked into his eyes briefly-though long enough to identify his concern- then tucked herself into his side so that he could no longer plainly see her face.

With the loss of his scrutiny, she returned to the bigger problems, and admittedly the one she had continued to put off all night.  Glory and Dawn.  A sense of foreboding had captured her earlier, or probably from the moment that Angel had left with Faith.  It escalated in power whenever she thought of the Key that was to become her sister.

She wondered if her knowing would ultimately change events, so that there was either no Dawn, or a Dawn but not with Buffy as her protector.  Or perhaps Glory was onto her, knew that she would be able to kill her because of her knowledge of Ben.  She actually felt fear curl into a ball in the pit of her stomach at the possibility that Dawn was not to become her sister, that her mother's illness would be a burden for her alone to carry.

Bigger yet, was her own death off the cards now?  The image of her falling from a weak, shaky tower into a shattered flat of electrical energy made her shiver and she couldn't help the reaction of her body against Spike.  Knowing that he would know, she wasn't surprised when he tightened his arm around her almost crushing the air from her lungs, and knew that he also was afraid.  The tingling at her neck told her that her fears and been transferred to him; that he felt, and knew.  Her death.  It would be their preoccupation next year, she felt sure.

Joyce Summers, a glowing picture of health, entered the room loaded down with a tray of drinks and more snacks, and took an alarmed step back as the offerings were pounced on by what she could only describe as a rather alarmingly hungry bunch of young people.  She shared an amused smile with Rupert, then took a chair and became immersed once again in the story on the screen.  Buffy was sure that no one actually knew what it was all about.

Buffy looked around the room, taking in her mother, her Watcher, her lover, and friends, and rejoiced in the family that she belonged.  Once she hated the burden of being the Slayer, but now she acknowledged that by being this she had captured to her the most extraordinary group of people.

She was blessed.