Title: Loves Lost (1/23/05)

Author: Slaymesoftly

Season: II, but AU

Word count – 15,500 +

Disclaimer: Joss’s characters, my story

Distribution: Belongs ATM to Good_Evil, can be archived after the round closes by anyone who already has permission.

AN: The characters for this round were Good Giles and/or Evil Ethan. Couldn’t decide, so I did a bit of both. Since the original (and I use the term very loosely – you will see why) idea was scribbled out almost a year ago and was intended as a Spuffy fic, those blond victims of their own UST will figure almost as prominently in this fic as they usually do in my stories; but this time they will be going up against an evil and vengeful Ethan Rayne and will be rescued (because, all-in-all, they aren’t doing very well against the sorcerer and his evil accomplices) by a Watcher who must reach back into his past for the tools he needs to save his Slayer. Many thanks to my beta, Always_jbj who worked hard with me to see that there were no contradictions or lapses in logic as I worked out some of these scenes, as well as providing constant encouragement for my first attempt at writing a dark fic.

WARNINGS: There are both character deaths and a rather graphic rape scene in this fic. It is NOT a fluffy fic. Please be aware of that as you read.

LOVES LOST

Chapter One

As Buffy raced out of the burning building, she cast a quick glance behind her to see that both Spike and Drusilla were buried under the collapsed organ and its many large pipes. She smiled with vindictive satisfaction.

(That should take care of those two. Now to get Angel back to his apartment and see if he’s all right.

She quickly caught up to her Watcher and her friends as they struggled with their burden. Smiling at them in thanks, she positioned herself under Angel’s large, unconscious body and hefted him onto her small shoulder. When she staggered slightly, Xander laughed and got on the other side to help balance the load.

“Super strength is all well and good, Buffster, but I think expecting to carry something that big on your skinny little back is defying some kind of law of physics.”

In the rush to leave the burning building and get the injured vampire someplace safe, no one noticed the dark-eyed mage watching from the shadows. His face broke into a smile as he assessed the aura of the vampire to whom the Slayer was tending so lovingly.

(Oh yes, Ripper. That may not have worked out quite the way I planned, but this will do nicely. Very nicely, indeed.)

With Giles helping Xander to support Angel’s other side, they were able to get the still-unconscious vampire back to his home and onto his bed. He groaned slightly when they put him down as gently as they could. Buffy drew in a breath sharply as she caught sight of the burns on his chest.

“Giles! They tortured him! If I didn’t know that bleached blond menace was being barbequed right now, I’d go back to that church and baptize him in holy water.” Buffy’s face was a combination of determined Slayer and worried girl friend.

“I think he’ll be all right, Buffy,” her watcher said quietly. “Why don’t you go get him some blood?” He remained some distance from the bed, studying the vampire with cold eyes.

Glancing at her Watcher curiously, she went to the far side of the room and got some pig’s blood out of the small refrigerator there. She put it in a mug and stuck it in the microwave to warm it up, watching over her shoulder the whole time to see if Angel was waking up. She frowned slightly as she noticed Giles gesturing to Willow and Xander to stay back away from the bed. Her frown increased as she realized that he was holding a cross in one hand.

“Giles? What are you doing? It’s Angel. He isn’t going to hurt us!”

“Buffy, we have no idea what kind of effect that ritual may have had on him; nor can we be sure that he will recognize us when he first wakes up. I believe caution is warranted in this situation.”

“Caution, schmaution. This is my boy friend and he isn’t going to hurt anybody,” she said confidently as she approached with the mug of pig’s blood.

Willow was the first to notice that Angel’s eyes were open and she watched as he looked around the room before fastening his gaze on Buffy. There was something about the way he was looking at her friend that bothered her, but she shook it off as Buffy smiled down at the vampire.

“Angel! You’re awake. I’m so sorry they hurt you like that...I tried to get there sooner... Here, I warmed up some blood for you...”

As she babbled in relief, she sat beside him on the bed and supported his shoulders while he leaned toward the mug. Suddenly the mug went flying across the room and she was pinned beneath him, his vamp face was firmly in place as he ran his fangs lightly across her neck.

“I think I’d prefer it right from the source, lover,” he growled as he licked at the trickle of blood his actions had yielded. Buffy was too surprised and shocked to react, remaining immobile under him as he licked her neck and ground his obvious erection into her leg. As quickly as he had grabbed her, he let go with a snarl when Giles thrust the cross in his face, forcing him away from Buffy who then rolled off the bed. In spite of the pain and fear gripping her heart at Angel’s actions, Buffy’s Slayer instincts took over and, in seconds, she was on her feet, stake in hand.

“Angel...? I don’t understand...wha-“ She remained in a fighting stance, but her face was a study in dismay and fear.

“We’re not looking at Angel anymore,” her Watcher said, never taking his eyes off the snarling vampire and waving at Willow and Xander to leave. “Are we…Angelus?”

Across the bed from them, the vampire shifted back to his human face and said smoothly, “Nonsense, Giles. I just over-reacted a little to the smell of pig’s blood, that’s all. I’ll need to stop by Willy’s and pick up some human blood to get these wounds healed.”

He turned his head toward Buffy and looked at her with calculating eyes.

‘You believe me, don’t you, darlin’? You know I’d never hurt you.”

“Stay away from him, Buffy,” her Watcher warned as she wavered.

She looked back and forth between the two of them, frantically trying to decide which was telling the truth. She loved Angel with the whole of her sixteen-year-old heart, but something was setting off alarm bells in her head as she stared into his strangely flat eyes. When she didn’t immediately agree with him, she saw a flicker of impatience cross his face and his eyes briefly flashed yellow before he could control it.

“That’s all right, lover,” he said suddenly, relaxing his posture, but maintaining the distance between them, “I’ll just go get my blood and I’ll see you later. I’ll see you, too, Watcher,” he said with deceptive mildness as he edged toward the door, but Giles did not miss the threat.

Buffy flew to the door behind him, telling herself she wasn’t worried about Willow and Xander, that she just wanted to be sure that they hadn’t gone far. She found them pressed against the wall holding out crosses and cringing against each other.

As soon as Buffy saw the crosses and the frightened looks on their faces, she crumpled to the ground sobbing. Giles pulled her to her feet somewhat abruptly and said, “I understand this is a shock, Buffy, but right now you need to be the Slayer. One of the most vicious vampires in the world is now loose in Sunnydale and you are the only one who can stand against him.”

He gazed at the girl he was coming to think of as his daughter and his heart ached for her loss, but he refused to allow any of the pain he was feeling on her behalf to enter his voice as he urged them all back to his car.

He drove Buffy back to her home and suggested they all stay there for the night. When they asked him why, he responded with impatience.

“Angelus has an invitation to all your homes, does he not?” the Watcher asked curtly.

Buffy and Willow nodded their agreements as Xander spoke up.

“Nope, not to my house. Never had any reason to give Deadboy an invite to the Harris casa.”

“All right, then, Xander can go home. Willow, you will need to do some disinvite spells for Buffy’s house and for your own immediately.”

The novice witch nodded her head and walked up to the door with Buffy.

“We’ll do your house first,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster. “Then we’ll go over to my house and do it. Fortunately my parents are away this week, so there’s nobody there if Angel shows up.”

They burst into Buffy’s house and followed the sound of Joyce’s voice into the kitchen where she was making hot chocolate.

“Well, you girls are home late,” she said with just a trace of irritation. “Now that I know you’re safe, I’ll be going to bed. Don’t stay up too late,” she cautioned as she turned to go upstairs.

Just then they heard a sound from upstairs, as though someone had bumped into a table.

“Willow, do the spell now!” Buffy ordered as she shoved a cross into her mother’s hand and ordered, “Stay here, Mom.”

Joyce sputtered in surprise and anger at being told what to do by her sixteen-year-old daughter, but the memory of how competent and in charge Buffy had been at the terrifying Back to School Night events stilled her tongue and she waited impatiently with Willow.

Buffy flew upstairs just in time to see Angel leap out the window and onto the roof. She ran to the window, but halted before she got close enough for him to touch her. There was no doubt, as she looked into the cold, evil countenance of Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, that her Angel was gone.

Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the familiar, and yet so different, face glaring back at her.

“A...Angel?” she couldn’t help the plea in her voice as she begged him to tell her she wasn’t seeing what her Slayer senses were telling her.

“He’s gone, lover. And I’m back. But don’t you worry, Buffy, we’re going to have lots of fun without him.” He leered at her and made as though to come back through the window, only to bump up against an invisible barrier.

While the vampire snarled and growled on the roof, Buffy sent him a last sad look and said, “The locks have been changed, Angel. You...you’re not welcome here anymore.”

She turned away from the window and went slowly down the stairs to join her mother and her best friend in the now-safe kitchen. At Joyce’s, “What was that all about, Buffy?” she just absently took the cross from her mother and mumbled something about a big animal on the roof. Joyce missed the widening of Willow’s eyes as she bustled about putting the hot chocolate ingredients away.

Since there was no one at Willow’s home to worry about, the girls decided to stay at Buffy’s for the night and go to Willow’s in the morning. Although Joyce was more than suspicious that they weren’t telling her the truth about what was going on, she decided to wait until the next day to discuss it with her daughter. It was obvious that Buffy had been crying, and she decided to believe there had been a typical teenage crisis of some sort that Buffy and Willow would sort out over ice cream while she went to bed.

As had become her custom, she ignored the strange chanting Willow had done while Buffy was upstairs, as well as the obvious sounds of someone on the roof that she’d heard. Her chosen way of dealing with the strange things that went on with and around her daughter was to ignore them as much as possible. The only alternative – to believe in the monsters that Buffy had tried to tell her about when they lived in Los Angeles – was unthinkable.

Chapter Two

The two girls were up early the next morning, running quickly to the Rosenbergs’ much larger house several blocks away. When Willow went to rush in, Buffy grabbed her arm and shook her head silently. She handed the redhead a large cross and clutching her stake firmly, stepped into the silent house.

While Willow began the disinvite spell, Buffy prowled the large rooms, making sure that there was no undead ex-boyfriend waiting to surprise them. Upon reaching Willow’s bedroom, she cringed at the sight of the open French doors, the empty fish tank ,and Willow’s beloved colorful fish now hanging from a string over the bed. Before Buffy could head her off, Willow had entered the room and seen her pets dangling from the safety pins through their bodies.

“He...he was here. In my bedroom.” Willow’s eyes were frightened behind the tears threatening to fall as she took her fish down.

“It’ll be all right, Will. I promise, he won’t be able to do this again, “ Buffy said grimly as she watched her friend sadly drop her dead pets in the waste basket.

When the dis-invite spell had been completed, the two friends walked in silence to the Watcher’s apartment. Each was trying to hide her sadness in order to keep the other from feeling worse, but eventually a sniffle from Willow had Buffy turning to her friend to apologize.

“I’m so sorry, Will. I never thought he’d...” She couldn’t finish her thought as a sob ripped from her throat.

For several minutes, the two friends stood on the sidewalk, holding each other and crying for their lost innocence before Buffy straightened up and swiped at her eyes angrily. The girls took matching deep breaths and continued into Giles’ apartment complex.

Buffy released the breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding when her Watcher opened the door for them.

“Giles? I didn’t think about it last night, but Angel’s been here a lot of times. Weren’t you worried?”

“No, Buffy, I took precautions, but I wasn’t gravely concerned. Angelus took a great deal of abuse before the actual ritual took place, and the ritual itself cost him a substantial measure of blood. I believe that he was too weak last night to pose a threat to either of us. I’m sure that’s why he left once we realized who he was. He really wasn’t strong enough to fight us, and certainly not both of us at the same time.”

“What about your apartment? Do you want me do the spell?” Willow asked eagerly, anxious to demonstrate her growing skill with magic.

“It’s taken care of,” he said shortly.

“Oh,” she said with a disappointed look. “Who did it for you?”

“I did it myself,” the Watcher said flatly. When he saw her disappointment, he sighed and said more kindly, “I know enough magic to do a simple disinvite spell, Willow. Although I do thank you for the offer.”

“Oh, okay. You’re welcome,” she replied, somewhat mollified. “But any time you need...”

“Yes, yes. Thank you, Willow. I will certainly let you know if we require more magic.”

The young witch’s eagerness reminded him that, as much as he might like to pretend that magic was no longer important to him, he was going to have to take the responsibility for teaching Willow the basics. Somehow, he was going to have to find a way to explain to the children he worked with that the dabbling in black magic that had produced Eyghon was more than the one time thing he had implied it to be.

He realized that convincing Willow that he knew enough about magic to guide her in its proper use might be more than difficult now that he had spent the past year planting the idea that he preferred to avoid it as much as possible. Sighing, he put that worry off for another time as the morning’s research began.

When Xander arrived, carrying both doughnuts and the morning papers, the group settled around the table to see if there was any sign of Angelus having stayed in Sunnydale. Willow opened her laptop and began checking the hospital and police records.

They found two short articles about the burning of the abandoned church; with the fire being attributed to “vandals”. Willow found mention of two missing children on the latest police report, as well as an unusual number of “gang related” murders leaving victims with their throats slit.

Buffy frowned. “That’s a lot of killing for one vampire.”

Giles looked at her with sympathy. “Buffy, Angelus is a demons that kills for the thrill and amusement it gives him. It is well documented that he does not kill just to eat, and that he enjoys tormenting his victims before he kills them.”

Buffy shut her eyes in pain as she remembered Angel’s brief description of how he drove Drusilla crazy before finally turning her; shuddering, she looked back at her Watcher with tears in her eyes.

“Isn’t there anything we can do? Can’t we re-curse him or something? Give him his soul back?”

“What we can do, Buffy,” he said, sounding very much like a Watcher and less like a compassionate friend, “is slay him. He is entirely too dangerous to be allowed to continue to live, and the soul is obviously not as permanent as one would have hoped.”

The Slayer bowed her head and nodded, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to flow down her cheeks.

``````````````````````````````````````

In an abandoned factory in another part of Sunnydale, a completely recovered and very strong Drusilla was cooing to her crippled child as she gently laid him in their bed.

“Don’t worry, my sweet William. Daddy is coming back to us and we will be a family again. . Miss Edith says he’ll be here soon and then he will make that nasty Slayer pay for hurting my sweet Spike. Maybe even tonight.”

The badly burned and broken blond vampire just frowned weakly; he was drifting in and out of consciousness and couldn’t really follow what she was saying or why she thought Angelus was coming to them. As far as he knew, the elder vampire should have been dead by now.

Drusilla bustled around the large room, humming to herself and conversing with Miss Edith as she waited impatiently for night to fall. Spike tried weakly to get her attention so that he could ask her for some blood to begin healing, but she ignored him in favor of giggling with her doll.

When the sun had finally gone down, her demeanor changed; giddiness gave way to agitation, and she occupied her time by spinning around in circles until the sound of the upper door slamming open made her stop.

“Angelus?” she breathed, waiting as the heavy footsteps descended the stairs.

“None other, my pretty poppy,” he growled, strolling into the room and looking around. He laughed when she threw herself into his arms, squealing with joy and kissing his face. He glanced around the room, spotting Spike’s battered body lying on the bed.

“Will doesn’t look too good there, Dru. Have you fed him at all?”

He peered down at Spike with much less concern on his face than his words might have implied.

“I think I forgot. I was too excited to see you again.”

The big vampire shrugged as he stood up, “Oh well, we’ll bring him back a little something.” He turned and smiled at the excited brunette. “Are you ready to go out hunting, Drusilla?”

She clapped her hands with glee and twirled around so that her flowing skirt spread around her.

“Oh, goody, Daddy. I’ve missed hunting with you so much. Can I have a little baby....” Their voices trailed off as they went up and out of the old warehouse, leaving Spike forgotten on the bed.

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

When the two older vampires returned toward dawn, they were flushed with new blood and excitement.

“Oh, William, it is so wonderful to have Daddy back. Even Miss Edith is happy for us.”

“Yeah, it’s bloody marvelous, Dru. Did either of you think to bring me something to eat?”

Spike’s voice was weak and ragged, but the irritation was evident. Angelus walked over to the bed and stared down at his grandchilde.

“Think you’d be wantin’ to be a little nicer to us, boy. After all, if we don’t feed you, you don’t eat. You’ll just lie there and get weaker and weaker. Then, when the Slayer comes for us,” he stopped and grinned. “Well, that’ll be the end of William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, won’t it?”

Spike just glared at the older vamp as best he could with his burnt and disfigured face. Tears of frustration threatened to collect in his eyes, but he fought them back and fixed his grandsire with his best icy stare. After over a hundred years, it had taken only a few hours for them to fall back into the antagonistic relationship that had earmarked most of their time together.

With a laugh, Angelus shoved a partially drained wino onto the bed and said, “Here, boy, if you can hold it, you can eat it.”

With a supreme effort of will, Spike pulled the man toward him with one shaking arm and buried his fangs in his neck. He was actually grateful that the meal was drunk, as the alcohol in the otherwise disgusting blood worked to ease the pain of his burns.

Less comforting was the fact that he still couldn’t feel the burns visible on his legs, nor could he feel the legs themselves. With a frustrated growl, he realized that he was going to be totally dependent on Angelus and Drusilla until his spine healed enough for him to hunt on his own. He had no doubt that his grandsire would find ways to use that dependency for his own amusement

Chapter Three

Buffy went through the day in a daze, her entire world turned upside down by the change in the man she had so recently thought of as her soul mate. She couldn’t understand how just losing his soul could have made such a difference in his feelings for her. How could he not still love her? How could he want to hurt her?

Willow and Xander did their best to be supportive; as her closest male friend was already jealous of the vampire, his support always seemed tinged with a hint of “I told you so,” and Buffy soon tired of it. Her Watcher was not much different, trying his best to explain to her that she was seeing the real Angelus – the demon Angel had kept hidden beneath his souled exterior.

“He’s a demon, Buffy, and without the help of his soul, he can’t love you. It’s just not possible.”

“Then how could Spike love Drusilla?”

Buffy’s innocent question took the Watcher completely by surprise. She waited, eyes wide open and trusting, for him to explain to her how a soulless demon could have risked his life to come to the Hellmouth and fight another Slayer in order to help his lover heal from injuries inflicted by an angry mob --an angry mob from which he had rescued her at great risk to his own life. Why that same soulless demon would back off from an opportunity to kill his third Slayer and provide his minions with a room full of victims to save his lover from Buffy’s stake.

Giles cleared his throat noisily. “Yes, well, it would appear that William the Bloody may be… That’s really beside the point, Buffy. However Spike and Drusilla may feel about each other, they are demons and I am sure it isn’t truly love. Not love in the way we think of it.”

“But it’s SOMETHING, isn’t it? Something has kept them together for over a hundred years. And if they can still feel…feelings, then why can’t Angel? Why does he want to hurt me?” Tears gathered in her eyes again and her lip trembled. “Why can an insane and skanky vampire get somebody to love her for over a hundred years and my boyfriend can forget about me in a few minutes? What’s wrong with me?”

The Watcher sighed again, mentally vowing to stake Angelus himself if he had to, if for no other reason than for the emotional pain he was causing his charge.

“There is nothing wrong with you, Buffy. You are a beautiful, sweet, innocent, intelligent girl; one who has fallen in love with the wrong man. The demon is simply not able to appreciate you the way that Angel could when he had his soul. It is sad, and I am sorry for your pain, but you have to promise me that you will not let yourself be distracted from your duty by the fact that your current enemy is wearing the face of your former boyfriend.”

“I know, Giles,” she agreed with a sigh. “I’ll get him. I mean, how hard can it be? Spike and Drusilla are ashes; we’d already killed all the minions. All I have to do is find him and put a stake through his heart.”

Her lip quivered again at the thought of never seeing Angel—HER Angel—again, and Giles groaned.

“I do think it would be wise of you to always have someone with you when you’re patrolling, at least for a short while…” At Buffy’s angry glare, he quickly explained, “Not that I think that you cannot or will not do your job; I simply feel that you might need moral support when you are called upon to do so with Angelus.”

For several weeks, Buffy followed her Watcher’s advice, taking Willow or Xander or the well-armed Watcher himself with her when she made her rounds of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. After weeks with no sign of her former love, Buffy began to relax and to hope that he might have left the area to set up a nest somewhere without a resident Slayer.

Unbeknownst to Buffy, Giles was spending a good bit of his time during the daylight hours searching for potential nesting sites. He was sure that he had picked up a trail once or twice in the early weeks; any leads quickly vanished, however, and even the use of some of his long-neglected skills in the magic arts, yielded no trace of the dangerous vampire. The vampire who, despite Buffy’s frequent hopeful remarks, Giles knew to be still in Sunnydale and responsible for many of the torn and mutilated bodies still turning up on a nightly basis.

( If I didn’t know better, I would think Angelus was using a cloaking spell of some sort, though I’ve heard Angel grumble about magic too often to think he would suddenly begin its practice.)

Buffy was on her way home, alone for a change, when she heard a child crying; she ran, without thinking, into the alley from which the sound was coming. Shock paralyzed her for a few seconds as she recognized Drusilla. The vampire was holding a small child, letting it dangle from her arm like a doll and ignoring the steady whimpering coming from it.

Recovering quickly, Buffy pulled out her stake and stalked towards the smiling woman.

“You really should have left here when your boyfriend dusted,” Buffy growled, raising her stake threateningly.

Instead of shrinking away in fear, the dark-haired vampire cocked her head and cooed, “My sweet William is not dust. And I have my daddy back. You would do well to think about that, Slayer. Daddy is not happy with you.”

“Daddy? You mean Angel?” Buffy’s voice rose in horror. It had never occurred to her that Angel might be reunited with his family and the thought of all three of them together made her blood run cold.

Drusilla took advantage of the Slayer’s momentary distraction to toss the child at her and slip away as Buffy automatically stretched to catch the limp body.

“I mean Angelus, little girl.” The vampire’s voice drifted back into the alley as she disappeared into the night. “And he is not happy with you.”

“I’m not real thrilled with him right now, either,” Buffy whispered as the mad vampire sped away.

She adjusted her grip on the child and started out of the alley, halting suddenly when a tall, slender man stepped in front of her. There was something familiar about the smiling but obscured face; before she could recognize his features, he waved a hand in the air, sending a small cloud of dust into her face. The Slayer gasped in surprise, then coughed and choked as the dust she had inhaled filled her mouth and nose.

She glared at the man, the fury in every line of her body gradually being replaced with fear as she found herself unable to move. Her attempts to ask him what he was doing failed as miserably as her attempts to hit him, her mouth having been paralyzed along with the rest of her voluntary muscles. Once again, she felt the tingle on her neck that indicated the presence of a master vampire and she struggled against the magical bonds holding her, unable even to cast her eyes around to see if Drusilla had come back.

The mystery didn’t last long, however; she suddenly heard the familiar and yet so alien voice she remembered from a month before.

“Well, hello, lover.” The words came from behind her. “I see you’ve met my new friend, Ethan.”

Buffy’s eyes focused on the smiling man in front of her; as the dust and shock cleared, she recognized him as Ethan Rayne, the man from the costume shop whose magical costumes had turned Halloween into an actual nightmare. The man whose idea of fun had almost gotten them killed before Giles had found him and made him break the spell. She remembered waking up with Spike drooling over her throat and preparing to make her his third conquered Slayer.

The sorcerer’s assistance to a vampire had been inadvertent that time; now, however, it appeared that he was deliberately and willingly working with another master vampire. Her eyes glared her promised retribution even as her heart beat faster at the sensation of Angelus’ cool breath on her neck.

“We’re going to have so much fun, lover,” he purred. “Just you and me and my pretty poppy. Hours and hours of fun…” He raked her throat with one fang, lapping up the free-flowing blood and laughing at the fear he could smell rolling off her body.

“All right, Angelus,” Ethan spoke up. “Remember, she is my bait. You don’t get what you want until I get what I want.”

“Fine, fine,” the vampire agreed easily. “I’m a patient person. I can wait.”

He picked Buffy up as though she was a sack of potatoes, throwing her over his shoulder in a gross parody of the tender way she’d carried him out of the burning church so very recently, and followed the man as he glided down the street.

Chapter Four

Spike was rolling through the mansion’s main room, searching for any left-over bodies that he might be able to reach and drain of any remaining blood when his sire came dashing in, laughing and smiling with delight.

“My darling William,” she said, kissing him lightly before dancing out of his reach once again. “You will never guess what Daddy has done. He has brought us a present to play with.”

Spike glanced toward the entrance in time to see a tall, elegant-looking man enter the mansion fearlessly, Angelus following closely behind him. He gave an unconscious gasp as the smell of Slayer blood assaulted his nostrils and his starving body reacted to it. The smell of magic was also strong in the air and Spike eyed the smiling man with suspicion. Angelus strode into the room and unceremoniously dumped the still-immobile Buffy to the floor in front of Spike’s wheelchair.

He laughed cruelly at the naked hunger in the younger vampire’s eyes as they focused on the inert Slayer and the blood tricking from the cut on her neck. Spike was leaning so far forward that he was in danger of falling out of his chair as his demon strained toward the hot elixir only feet away from his watering mouth. Angelus laughed again, shoving Spike’s chair just out of reach of the Slayer and her bleeding neck.

“I get to play first,” he growled. “Then Dru. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn. You will just have to wait; but then, that’s all you CAN do, isn’t it, Spike?” he added with a laugh. “Wait – wait for Dru to feed you, wait for someone to dress you, wait for…wait, wait, wait.”

Spike snarled, lunging uselessly at the older vamp who stayed just out of reach. Spike was so angry, it was several seconds before he thought to wonder who the human man was and why he seemed so unafraid of the two (Three! There are three!) deadly vampires in the room.

To Spike’s amazement, Ethan chided the older vamp, saying, “You need to save your creativity until we have the camera ready, Angleus. I don’t want Ripper to miss one scream or one drop of blood that leaves her body.”

Spike stared back and forth between the human man and his family; he could still smell the magic in the room and realized that the seemingly uninjured Slayer must be under a spell to keep her so still. His gaze accidentally met hers when he looked down and he flinched at the venom he saw there. He watched curiously as her expressive green eyes reflected horror, fear, anger, defiance and a trace of sadness all at the same time.

Much to his chagrin, he found himself staring at the girl who had thwarted him at almost every turn and wishing he could do something to change the fate he knew only too well awaited her. He found the idea that Angelus was going to torture and kill the vibrant, smart-mouthed girl who’d stood against him since his arrival in Sunnydale surprisingly repellent.

Spike wanted her dead, but it wasn’t personal; she was a Slayer, he was a vampire, and this opposition was the fate they shared. She would kill him, or he would kill her-- but after a fair fight between warriors. He bore her surprisingly little animosity, considering the fact that she was responsible for his current helpless situation. If anything, he admired her creativity in the face of his and Drusilla’s possible escape. He resented the hell out of the outcome of her actions, but he knew that he would have done the same thing himself if their positions had been reversed.

He knew by an hundred years of history and the smell of black magics that there was nothing fair about the way Anglelus had captured the Slayer, any more than the older vampire’s interest in her was impersonal. If he’d seen nothing else over the past month, he’d seen how enraged the demon was to think he’d been forced to love and protect the small blond currently immobilized on the floor. Angelus was determined to make her pay for causing his souled alter-ego to fall in love with her.

“Had to bring in a sorcerer to help you, Angelus? “ He couldn’t resist the dig at the older vampire.

“You couldn’t handle this slayer,” his grandsire sneered. “It took a real demon to take her down.”

He watched from his chair as the other vamp strutted around the room, describing how he had used Drusilla and a small child to distract the Slayer so that the sorcerer could catch her by surprise when she had her hands full.

“So, you had to sneak up behind her and cheat to beat her. Is that what you’re sayin’, Angelus?” Spike put as much contempt into his voice as he could.

“Not enough balls to take her on?”

He could see anger beginning to darken the other vampire’s face, but he couldn’t control his mouth. He sneered in contempt when he spoke again. “At least I wasn’t afraid to face her – vamp to Slayer. Didn’t have to hide behind the skirts of a woman and a baby—“

Angelus approached rapidly and backhanded the smaller vamp out of his wheelchair, leaving Spike on the floor only inches away from Buffy’s bleeding throat.

“You couldn’t beat her even with the Order of Taraka’s help, so just keep your pueling mouth shut, boyo.” After planting a heavy foot in Spike’s side and smiling at the crack of a rib giving way, Angelus left the room muttering, “Just let me get my stuff and I’ll show you how to handle a Slayer. Maybe I’ll just leave you down there on the floor where you’ll get a good view.”

Angelus went off with Ethan to find the video camera that Spike had used to study Buffy’s fighting technique, leaving his grandchilde on the floor, one hand on his broken ribs and his face still inches from the Slayer blood oozing from Buffy’s neck. The crippled vampire watched her lashes fluttering as she struggled to regain the ability to move and his eyes bored into hers, silently willing her to remain still.

Spike waited for Drusilla to come and help him back up, but instead she trailed Angelus out of the room, wheedling with him to leave the nasty slayer and play with her. He ground his teeth, knowing only too well what she meant by “play with her”. He closed his eyes tightly for a second, then opened them to find the dazed green gaze of the Slayer upon him. She was apparently regaining some control over her body; he watched as she swallowed hard and licked her dry lips as she tried to speak.

“Hello, cutie,” he hissed through his clenched teeth. “Welcome to my world.”

“Sp…Spike?” The weakened tone in which she spoke her whispered question told him she was still not recovered enough to get away; nevertheless, he whispered back, “Now might be a good time to run, Slayer.”

When her eyes rolled up and she tried without success to make a face, he growled softly in frustration. The scent of her blood, still oozing from the deep wound on her neck, was making his fangs itch and without thinking about what he was doing, he leaned forward and licked it clean, closing the wound as he did so. The elixir that was Slayer blood went through his starving system instantly, giving him a burst of energy that caught him completely by surprise.

With a gasp, he realized that draining the Slayer might very well be all it would take to restore his legs and allow him to stand up to his overbearing and sadistic grandsire. He used his arms to pull the still immobile girl closer to him, and slid into his vampire face; the scent of her blood was making his mouth water and he growled softly as he went to sink his fangs into her neck.

Her resigned sigh spoke straight to the guilt he found himself feeling at the thought of feeding off his most respected opponent while she was unable to defend herself and he stopped before he pierced her skin.

“I’m sorry, pet,” he surprised himself by saying. “But I need this more than you do right now. And if I save you from what Angelus and Dru have planned, you’ll be thanking me from up there in Heaven.”

“Right,” she gasped sarcastically, “So you’re just doing this to help me.”

He grinned appreciatively at her ability to quip in the face of imminent death and for a second he seriously considered not draining her until he could defeat her properly in battle. A renewed reminder of their situations-- her inability to do more than try to roll away from him, and his own sudden fear that he wouldn’t be able to reach her if she did--sent that thought away instantly.

His body was screaming for more of the blood he had just tasted; with an apologetic shrug, he buried his teeth in her throat and began pulling the hot, powerful blood into his mouth. He had only taken a few swallows when he felt himself yanked backwards, his fangs leaving gaping wounds in the Slayer’s neck where they tore the flesh.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?” Angelus’ enraged roar was worth the pain of being flung away from the Slayer’s body, Spike thought; as useless as he’d felt, it was nice to know his actions could still have some sort of impact. “I don’t want her dead yet. If you’ve…” He stopped ranting when the sound of her heartbeat told him that the Slayer was still alive. With a snarl and another well-placed kick to Spike’s side, he stepped past his grandchilde and pulled the Slayer far enough away that Spike would be unable to drag himself to her without grinding his broken ribs together.

“Hello, lover,” he crooned to her. “You didn’t think I’d forgotten about you, did you?”

Fear and defiance fought each other to a standstill in Buffy’s eyes as she glared at Angelus helplessly. From the corner of his eye, Spike could see her fist clench behind her back and silently cheered her for not letting Angelus know she was gradually regaining her ability to move.

Angelus ran his hand down her body, pausing to cup her mound and chuckle at the horrified widening of her eyes. Blood rushed to her face, and she blushed with embarrassment as the vampire continued to fondle her virginal body in way he had never allowed himself to do while he had his soul.

Buffy fought the shudders that threatened to go through her body, forcing herself to lie still and pretend she was incapable of reacting to the rude invasion of her personal space. To her relief, Drusilla came back into the room, scolding Angelus for starting to play without her and telling him that Ethan needed him in the library.

With a final squeeze, Angelus reluctantly stood up and left the room, convinced that Buffy was still immobilized by the sorcerer’s magic. As soon as he was out of sight, the Slayer began to tremble all over, her face crumpling in the face of the humiliating treatment and the fact that it had taken place in front of her old enemy. When she dared to look at Spike, she found that he had rolled to his side and was clutching his ribs as he looked at her with an expression of genuine sympathy.

Fully expecting him to verbally assault her the way her former boyfriend had just done physically, she was astonished to hear him say, “Don’t let him see you cry, luv. It will only make him worse.”

She frowned at him with confusion, then began testing her arms and legs, trying desperately to get enough feeling back to be able to leave before Angelus came back into the room. After painful minutes, she gave up, dropping her head in exhaustion. Although the spell was obviously wearing off, it was nowhere near enough for her to be able to run or fight. At best, she could move her head slightly and clench her fists.

“Shake it off, Slayer!” Spike’s anxious voice broke into her tired mind and she turned her head to meet his eyes across the floor.

“I can’t,” she said dully. “I tried. It hasn’t worn off yet.”

“Try harder! They’re comin’ back. You need to try again – you need to—“

He broke off as Ethan strode into the room holding a video camera, closely followed by Angelus and Drusilla. The big vampire grabbed the Slayer by her hair and dragged her into the center of the room, smiling to himself at the tears that involuntarily spurted from her eyes when her hair was used as a handle.

When they had positioned her in the middle of the room just the way they wanted her, and the sorcerer had given them the nod, the two vampires began to systematically remove the girl’s clothing – using their claws and teeth to rip it from her body as she bit her lip and tried not to acknowledge them or the damage they were doing to the flesh under the clothing.

When Angelus fastened his mouth around one breast and sank his fangs through the soft skin there, Buffy couldn’t prevent the smothered scream that escaped her throat nor the involuntary flinch away from him. Her eyes squeezed shut at the physical and emotional pain that was wracking her young body and she began to wish that Spike had drained her when he had the chance.

(At least his bite didn’t hurt very much. Not until Angel yanked him off, anyway.)

Ethan stood with the camera, encouraging their activities and laughing when they had the embarrassed girl naked. He walked around with the camera, being sure to get close-ups of the bloodiest wounds and keeping up a running commentary the whole time.

“It appears your Slayer might be in a bit of difficulty, Ripper. Since you don’t know where she is and cannot help her, I thought I would be kind enough to film it for you so that you do not miss a thing. How long do you think it is going to take her to die, eh, Rupert? Angelus assures me he can drag this out for weeks, if necessary. I suppose that means we will have to purchase more video tape if we are going to keep you apprised of her condition.”

He moved the camera slightly and caught Spike trying to painfully pull himself into his wheelchair without tipping it over.

“Oh, here. Perhaps you will enjoy this too. William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, reduced to begging for blood from his sire and confined to a wheelchair with a broken back. A confinement for which your Slayer is responsible. How well do you think she will fare if Angelus and Drusilla decide to turn her over to William when they have tired of her? Hmmm?”

Only Buffy suspected that Spike’s answering snarl was aimed at Ethan and his words moreso than at the thought of being given Buffy’s broken body when Angelus was through with her. Through her pain, she laughed silently at the thought that in her current situation, William the Bloody was the closest thing she had to a sympathetic onlooker.

When Ethan felt that he had enough of her torment on tape to send Giles into a guilty frenzy, he insisted that Angelus and Drusilla quit anything that could potentially cause the Slayer’s death from either blood loss or shock, and allow him to get the tape delivered immediately. He promised the pouting Drusilla that she could “play” some more after he knew that Buffy’s watcher had seen the first tape.

With a snarl of reluctance, Angelus yanked Buffy over toward a set of manacles that were bolted to the wall and carelessly fastened one around her wrist.

“That should hold you if the spell wears off,” he laughed, slapping her on her bare ass as he stood up.

The two vampires left the room, retiring to their bedroom for a round of noisy sex while Ethan left to go find someone to deliver the tape for him. Buffy eyed Spike carefully, wondering whether he would to try to drain her again now that they could clearly hear how busy Angelus and Drusilla were at the other end of the big house. The devastated look on his face as he sat, trapped in his chair, and listened to the love of his life as she screamed her “daddy’s” name in ecstasy told the Slayer that she was the last thing on his mind at that time.

The pang of sympathy she felt for the vampire who had tried to kill her so often and so recently surprised her.

( It’s not like I don’t know how it feels to have somebody you love boinking somebody else practically in front of you.) she admitted to herself. She knew that had Angelus not spent so much of the evening trying to humiliate and torture her, the sounds coming from the back of the building would be tearing her heart out. As it was, she was simply grateful that Drusilla was keeping the demon that wore the face of her first love too busy to remember the naked slayer in the main room.

She cautiously tried moving her body, finding that, while it hurt terribly to bend her limbs – covered as they were with bleeding wounds – she COULD bend them. She was weak from the loss of blood and the remaining effects of the spell, but at least she was no longer completely immobile and unable to defend herself.

(If that demon or his whore put their hands on me again, I swear I will break them off at the wrists, even if it’s the last thing I do.)

Buffy had been so wrapped up in her thoughts about what she would do if Angelus came back and attempted to touch her again, that she had failed to notice Spike’s departure from the room. Only the sound of his wheelchair on the stones brought her attention back to the vampire and she gave a start when she realized he was rolling straight towards her. In his lap were a pitcher of water and a bag of cookies.

“Can you move yet?” he asked abruptly, holding the cookies out to her.

She nodded silently, taking the bag and staring at him suspiciously.

“Quit lookin’ at me like I’ve got three heads,” he grumbled, passing her the water. “How the hell are you going to dust that wanker if you don’t keep your strength up?”

Buffy upended the pitcher of water and drank almost half of it before setting it down to get into the bag of cookies.

“What kind of vampires keep Chips Ahoys in their kitchen?” she mumbled around a mouthful of stale cookies.

“They’re mine,” he said sheepishly. “Dru got them for me before she became so besotted with the great poof that she forgot to feed me at all.”

“You eat chocolate chip cookies,” she said, a trace disbelief in her voice.

“I like chocolate,” he answered defensively. “Jus’ can’t live on it, is all.”

Something about the way he said it reminded Buffy of his remark about Dru not feeding him at all, and she took her first good look at him since she’d been carried into the mansion. Spike had always been lean, but she’d always suspected that there was a solid covering of flesh and muscle over his bones; her fights with him had given her a pretty good idea of what that body looked and felt like.

Now, the formerly handsome vampire was thin and wasted-looking; his eyes were sunken and dark-rimmed, his prominent cheekbones jutted out more than ever before, and his upper body – clearly visible in the black tee shirt he wore – was all bones and pale skin. She gasped and looked up at his face in shock, only to find him staring at her own body, his eyes flashing amber.

She suddenly remembered the way he’d bitten her throat when she first came in--and his whispered, “I need it more than you do.”

Shrinking away from him in sudden fear, she almost knocked over the water pitcher, only to see the vampire save it at the last second. His hiss of pain, and the way he grabbed his side indicated that the damage inflicted earlier by Angelus’ foot had not begun to heal.

Trembling with the danger she knew she was inviting, she tentatively extended one badly-gashed and still-bleeding leg, offering, “I seem to be wasting a lot of blood on stones that don’t need or want it. Maybe…maybe you’d like to…?”

Before she had finished, he had her foot in one hand and was running his tongue all over her lower leg, carefully lapping up every drop of blood and then gently laving the wound until it stopped bleeding and began to close. Buffy closed her eyes so as not to see the vampire as he fed on her. When he moved up her leg to the cuts on her thigh, her eyes flew open again and she flinched, remembering her nudity. The angle at which Spike was holding her leg left her open to his gaze and she blushed, struggling to keep her thighs together; he sent her a quick, amused glance, then went back to what he was doing. When he’d finished cleaning the wounds on that thigh, he pulled the other leg into his lap and began, matter-of-factly, to cleanse the deep gouges and cuts there.

When he reached a particularly nasty cut just over her femoral artery, she gasped at the sensation in her lower abdomen as the vampire’s tongue slid over the skin at the top of her thigh. Spike could see and feel the blood pulsing through the vein so near his mouth, and he stopped for a few seconds to visibly fight down the demon’s desire to bury his fangs. Buffy froze, instinctively aware of what was happening, struggling feebly to pull her legs away and succeeding only in exposing more of her private parts as he held her fast.

(Oh my god. He’s getting stronger. Just that little amount of blood is making him stronger already.)

She began to worry that she had made a very big mistake and unconsciously tensed, preparatory to pushing him away. Before she could move, his eyes went back to their normal bright blue and he shrugged apologetically, saying quietly, “Sorry, luv. Just had a moment there. It’s alright now.”

“You scared me,” she admitted softly.

“Scared me, too, pet,” he snarked. “I’m countin’ on you to get us out of here and send that bog-trotting bastard to hell where he belongs. Wouldn’t do for me to kill you before that happens, would it?”

“So, we have what? A truce until we get out of here? What about your crazy ho-bag of a girlfriend?”

His eyes flashed amber again and she flinched when he snarled, “Watch your mouth, missy.”

Leaving the incongruity of this feared vampire’s ability to control his demon in the face of starvation -- as well as his obvious love for his unfaithful consort -- for another time, the Slayer silently held out her unshackled arm. Instead of taking it, Spike pulled her further up into his lap and began licking all the bleeding cuts on her chest and belly. Buffy was beyond embarrassed by the places his tongue was going, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to pretend she couldn’t feel its moist roughness as it cleaned and closed dozens of small wounds,

When he got to her right breast, where Angelus had sunk his fangs around the nipple and nearly severed it, she flinched and gave an involuntary moan. To her amazement, Spike stopped immediately and apologized.

“I’m sorry, luv. I know that probably stings a bit, but if you let me close it, it won’t hurt as much and it will heal faster. Your ex went pretty deep here and you don’t want to be letting those puncture wounds scab over until they’re clean inside.”

Still not opening her eyes, Buffy gritted her teeth and nodded permission, fighting down the urge to scream when his tongue entered the largest puncture. Noticing her pain, Spike fastened his mouth over the entire bite--covering not just all four fang marks, but her nipple as well --and began to suck gently.

As he gradually pulled the blood from the wound, the sensation changed from pain to something Buffy couldn’t identify. She lay still, trembling slightly while the vampire suckled on her breast and ran his tongue over the nipple. Eventually, she realized that he was not pulling any more blood from it, and she opened her eyes to glare at him as best she could; embarrassed that, if she was honest with herself, she would have to admit whatever he was doing felt pretty good.

“Wha—what are you doing?” she managed to croak out.

The sound of her voice snapped the vampire out of the lust-filled daze the combination of her blood and the pert breast from which he was pulling it had inspired; he startled, releasing her nipple with a soft popping sound. For long seconds they stared into each other’s eyes, each wondering if they had done something that would cause the other to end the truce.

“Nothing,” he said, finally. “Just got a little carried away. Didn’t mean anything by it, Slayer.”

“May—maybe you’d better put me down now,” she whispered, disgusted with herself when she realized she really didn’t want to be back on the cold, hard floor.

“Good idea,” he agreed, reluctantly sliding her body off his legs until she could lower herself to the floor on shaking arms. He examined her closed wounds for a second, then gestured to the arm he hadn’t touched. “Might be a good idea, pet, to spread some of that blood around on the other bites. Just in case anybody looks close enough to see that you aren’t bleedin’ anymore.”