In A Not Too Distant Future

In a not too distant future…
by Midnight Echo
Rating: NC-17
Couples: B/A, B/Aus
Series: The Blood Moon Saga (Book One)
Spoilers: Up through the current season and speculations for the series finale.
Synopsis: The End of Days has come and the good guys lost, leaving the Slayer a bit mad and in the possession of her worst nightmare.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Mutant Enemy Productions, Kuzi Entertainment, 20th Century Fox, and or the actors and actresses who portray the characters on television and the writers who create the dialogue. No profit will be made from this story, it is for entertainment purposes only.
Distribution: Your Eyes, Land of Denial, FF.net, and anyone else who wants it can have it, just send me the url.
Dedication: This is to all the others who've written such wonderful darkfic, like Margot and uh...well actually she's the only one I've read recently that I can remember.
Feedback: Send all feedback to mdnight_echo@yahoo.com
Note: This is my first attempt at writing a darkfic, hence the new persona. Please be kind to my fragile ego. I would appreciate even constructive criticism. Loved it, hated it, drop me a line and tell me why so I can adjust it.

Prologue:

The smoke slowly drifted up from the rubble. The hiss of steam seeking its release from pipes and screams of terror fill the night. One lone girl stares around her at the gutted and burning buildings with a look of icy horror on her face. They had lost. A thousand of the greatest warriors from throughout the ages, and still evil had been triumphant. The Apocalypse had come, and now mankind was doomed to a life of death and misery because they couldn't pull through. It was all *her* fault, because she couldn't control herself, because for so long she had been denied the comfort of his touch.

Many people had lost their lives in the last three days, and she could have prevented it all. But because this time, evil came in the form of temptation wearing her lover's face, she had crumbled and allowed dark prophecy to come to pass in the Feast of Flesh she had performed with her soul mate. So many innocents that she had given up much of her adolescence to save wouldn't get to wither and die of old age like she had promised herself so many cold nights ago. If she could have taken the place of them all, she would have. But she knew now that he would never allow it.

It was a battle she had fought time and time again in the recesses of her mind. A war she had thought left behind in the simpler time of her seventeenth year. The horror of a reality when darkness lurked beneath the surface of her heart's true love; speaking with his voice, kissing with his kiss, and spewing cruelties from lips that from which had once whispered a thousand sonnets just to see a smile break from gloom on her face.

As she walked among the wreckage, faces and wordless shrieks taunted her mind, ripping it from harsh reality and sending it to blissful nothingness. She stifled a hysterical laugh only to have another bubble its way out of her mouth. In seconds she was giggling in endless madness, seeing through eyes that were open but which did not *see*.
n een eerie wind carried a chilling whisper of her name as it drifted by. He was calling for her, looking to see if she had run. If she had not survived, she did not doubt he would feel it through and through. She knew for certain that if she had died, no soul would be spared his wrath tonight until his vengeance was sated.

She did not dream to even attempt to fool him into thinking so. Her shattered mind could neither comprehend nor conceive anything beyond instinct. But at the call of her name, fear bristled beneath her breast and her body coiled tightly, ready to only accept the torment he would subject her to. Perhaps that would bend and break her so far that he would have no further need for her and she would be free to take her leave of this world and prepare to join the next. She didn't allow the indulgence of the hope she felt at that thought. None of it seemed likely.

She glanced down at the ring on her left hand, a tiny trinket that had long since faded and lost its silver luster. However the memory of how she had received it, and of the day she had demanded it back after giving it up a short while, those were forever etched into her mind, body and soul.

#*#*#*

"It's beautiful," she whispered, turning the small object over in her hand. It was delicate, old and fragile already, but a strong symbol of the love that he felt for her.

"It's a claddagh. My people...before I was changed, exchanged these rings as a sign of devotion. The hand means friendship, the crown loyalty and the heart...well you know... Wear it with the heart pointing in, it means you belong to someone. Like this."

She felt her heart melt when he held his hand up to show her that he was wearing a slightly larger version of the one he had given her, pointing in. He belonged to someone. He belonged to *her*. It was difficult to voice the overwhelming happiness and love she felt at this moment. So she pulled his lips to hers kissed him.

*

"I want it back," she said, her voice thick with the tears that filled her eyes. He looked at her in total confusion until it dawned on him so visibly that it was like a light switch had been thrown behind his eyes and bulb had come on above his head. "I want it back, Angel," she demanded again.

He didn't fight her, he simply reached up and drew a chain out from under the collar of his shirt. There, on the end of a chain, along with the tiny silver ring she had given him on his 'birthday' her claddagh dangled. Quickly he undid the clasp with his nimble fingers and slid the ring off the rope and handed it to her. "It doesn't mean..." he started to say but she cut him off with a single look.

"I know Angel," she whispered, tears slipped down her cheeks as she sank down onto his couch. She looked at him in utter sadness until he looked away, unable to handle it. "I don't want you to go..."

"I know baby, I don't want to go either. But I have to go baby. It doesn't mean I don't love you," he murmured, taking a seat beside her. He cupped her chin in his hand. "Because I do love you baby, more than anything in the world. Understand...?" She nodded wordlessly, silent tears leaking down her cheeks.

#*#*#*

She felt strong hands clamp around her arms, the wind as it passed her cheeks on the way to the ground. When she looked up to see her attacker, there he stood in all his primal glory. He towered over her, fire crackling in his eyes as he looked at her. Her soul mate, now evil incarnate, more dangerous to her than anything else on Earth. To Him, she could no longer refuse anything. To Him, she knew with every bone in her being, she belonged.

He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her off the ground so that they were eye level. "You trying to run, bitch?" he snarled at her, shaking her like a rag doll whose neck he could snap in the blink of an eye. She shook her head frantically, trying to get what little air she could around his vice like grip. Her oxygen levels were getting close to critical because little black dots were beginning to appear in her line of vision. Thankfully, he transferred his hold to her wrist, but then began jerking her along behind him on his trek through the streets of Sunnydale. Choking for air, she had no choice but to follow him.

The house they arrived at wasn't the mansion, obviously Angelus been just as anxious to rid himself of every memory of Angel as the latter had been obsessed with separating himself from the demon. It was a two story red brick with white trim and wrought iron decorations. It wasn't at all gloomy, nothing befitting a vampire king such as him. More quaint and homey. If she had just been passing by during a routine patrol or on her way home from school, she would have just assumed it was the home of a happy family. But she knew that there would be no family to fill it, no laughing children tumbling down the stairs to feed.

"Have you ever given thought, my love, to becoming the undead?" he questioned as he dropped her onto a fainting couch. She did not try to take flight from the spot, rather took in her surroundings like a docile doll. The interior was done in Victorian style, closer to what he had lived in when he was a young boy than aing ing that you could find reproduced on the market today. And suddenly Angelus was in her face, smiling a sickeningly sweet smile. "I think you'd make an exquisite vampire, love."

Either answer that she gave him would result in something that she didn't want. She was fucked anyway she stood. He was going to kill her eventually, why even bother fighting it. Angelus laughed resonantly, though there was no humor in it. "You think that if you stay quiet I'll do you nice and quick, is that it?" he asked. "Hmm, love?"

"No," she whispered, her first coherent words since he'd grabbed her. "I think that you'll kill me no matter what I do. So why bother making with polite conversation."

"Very clever," he mused, then slapped her viscously across the cheek, the blow forcing her head to one side. "Don't ever talk back to me bitch, you won't like it." He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "Don't make me mad at you."

"I'm sorry," Buffy whimpered, pleading with him to have a little mercy. She knew that it was like talking to a brick wall, the only response she was going to get would be pain. But surprisingly, nothing happened for her speaking out of turn. Instead Angelus walked over to the fireplace and stoked the dying fire. He seemed to be ignoring her actually. The thought of Angelus, Scourge of Europe, stooping to something so petty to get a response made the lost part of her mind react. She giggled suddenly, unaware of why she was doing it. "Bad, bad Angel..." she laughed, and that caught his attention.

"Christ," he muttered, looking her over. "You've gone batty."

"Your fault," Buffy laughed. "I'm all broken and it's your fault...” The blow that ran across her cheek didn't hurt so much as it made her snap to attention. Her eyes focused and widened with lucid fear. She bit her lower lip, worried about what he would do to her next.

He drew her into his arms, surprising her. His big hands stroked her arms, her back, and tangled into her silky hair. "My love, not everything has to be about punishment," he murmured. "I'm sorry things had to be so hard on you, but you'll see. You'll learn quickly when you have the right teacher."

Buffy shivered violently. After being denied his touch for another set of long months, it was torment to her abused body to have him so near and yet so far. She didn't want to be anywhere near the demon, but her flesh was telling her otherwise, just as her heart was betraying her by fluttering from the affectionate gesture. "Why?" she whispered.

"Why didn't I kill you?" he teased. "Because I have great plans for you love, you'll see eventually." He kissed her forehead roughly. "It's the midnight, love, are you prepared to complete the ceremony we started during the Feast of Flesh? Shall we do the wicked dance? I hope you'll say yes, because that would make it so much more enjoyable if you weren't being forced, don't you think?" Angelus looked into her doe eyes and smirked. "You're a little late to stop our bonding, that night already made us husband and wife."

"I know," she replied so softly that even Angelus wasn't sure if she had spoken. When he realized it, her answer surprised him. He'd expected her to fight like hell to keep from admitting that she was more involved with him than she should've ever been. She actually knew that she was in so deep that she would never get back out. Whether she liked it or not, the Slayer was his for all eternity.

Angelus lifted her into his arms, noting how light she seemed, and carried her up the stairs to parts of the house unknown. Buffy chose not to fight him in this, knowing that it would only make him mad, and she didn't need that right now. She found that he was taking her into a bedroom, also decorated from his era, fine wrought iron and the best silks. Dominating the room was a mahogany four-post bed that stood in the center adorned with blood red linens. He laid her down on the bed with a gentleness that almost shocked her. The Slayer stared up at his cold, black eyes and marveled at the barest hint of warmth she saw there. There was something in his face that she'd never seen before, at least not from Angelus.

She wasn't sure what to make of it, but she didn't have much time to dwell on it when he began to paw at the complicated pearl buttons on her sweater. It took him several minutes to get the hang of it, and then he was making good time in getting them undone and sliding the material down her shoulders. Angelus growled in frustration when he saw the equally complicated bra she wore underneath. "Why must you have such frivolous clothing, woman?" he snarled. "I don't understand females today...straps and buckles on everything so it's near impossible to get it off."

Her skin burned when he brutishly ripped the article of clothing from her body. "Hey!" she yelped in protest, causing him to make a noise low in his throat and slap her across the face so hard she nearly spit blood. Buffy whimpered in apology, but Angelus continued on like it had never happened. She nearly mewled as he sucked and nipped the sensitive flesh of her exposed belly on his journey downwards. And then suddenly he wasn't there. Buffy craned her neck to see him arguing with a fledgling at the door, before he growled and left the room, slamming the door behind her. She flopped back down onto the bed and tried to calm down. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest she could hear nothing but in the absolute silence of the room. It kept her blood rushing, that and worry over what would happen to her next.

Chapter One:

She lay there for hours, quaking in fear of Angelus' return. She didn't know what he would be like when he came back. It seemed like ages ago that he'd left. Heavy footfalls passed the door, but no one entered the prison chamber where she was draped across a massive bed. Okay, so prison wasn't entirely acurate, but she wasn't free to leave and she knew it. Angelus would come after her until he had run her into the ground for going anywhere without his permission, even though he left her unchained.

The door creaked open, as if someone was trying to be as silent as possible in an old house. Buffy lifted her aching head from the pillow in an attempt to get a glimpse of the intruder. She knew it couldn't be Angelus, he wouldn't have had any consideration for her need of sleep. The person she did see caused her to sit up in bed, which made her groan in nausea. "Spike!" she hissed. "What are you doing here? You're only going to get me in more trouble."

"I just thought you might like to know that Angelus is being held up by Riley and his friends, who are trying to storm the place and get you back," he retorted. Buffy rose from the bed and slipped on a silk kimono that she found draped over a chair in the far corner.

"Show me," she ordered. Spike nodded, knowing that if Angelus found out he'd refused her something, his head would be on a platter. The Slayer was his master's mate, his queen, and even though she was human, Spike could count on one hand the number of sessions it would take Angelus before he decided to turn her. He walked her through a long corridor to where Buffy could hear gun fire and screaming. She arrived in a large room to see Angelus and his minions tearing into a small unit of Initiative soldiers. Riley was right there in the thick of it, fighting more fledglings then he could shake off. Angelus tossed Graham against the far wall, and the soldier didn't get up.

He noticed Buffy watching with a pained look on her face, and approached. "What're you doing here love?" he asked quietly, kissing her forehead and bringing the entire room to an awed stand still. Riley looked over at her, and his mouth dropped open in shock. Ignoring them all, and the consquences, Buffy wound her arms around Angelus' neck and dropped her head against his broad chest.

"What the hell is going on?" Riley demanded, walking up to them, all others letting him for fear of what their master wanted for him. "Buffy, what are you doing?" The Slayer spun around in Angelus' embrace with an agrivated look on her face.

"I'm trying to talk with my husband," she retorted. Through their bond, she could feel Angelus' pleasure at hearing her say that. She quirked her lips and fell back against him, surrendering all power to him, to her master. It wasn't intentional to make Angelus happy, she was just trying the only thing she could think of to keep Riley and his friends from meeting a very painful death at her lover's hands.

"Excuse me if I say, huh?" Riley looked bewildered. "Buffy, what the hell are you talking about? How is this *thing* your *husband*?"

"Very old ritual, boy," Angelus answered with a smirk. "Something not even death can break, so skamper on now, or meet your doom." Some of the soldiers took his advice, running out the door with a grateful look on their faces. It was a way for them to live, to not die fighting like everyone thought they should, so they took it. Other, more loyal ones stayed, waiting for Riley's orders. It was, however, one of the worst times that Finn was utterly speechless and unable to command his friends. Angelus sighed heavily, annoyed with the puny humans, they were interrupting his time with Buffy.

"You're all soddin' morons if you don't leave," Spike's voice wafted down the stair well.

"I'm guessing he's to blame for you showing up and trying to save these fools?" Angelus asked, nodding towards his childe. He, like nearly every vampire that had come to Sunnydale in the last ten years, had heard of the smoldering affair the blonde vampire and Slayer'd had just after her return from the dead.

"Maybe," Buffy answered coyly, knowing it would transfer Angelus' anger from the soldiers to her and Spike. Any fool knew that Angelus was well beyond pissed at the relationship between the two, there were demons out there that were taking bets on how long he could go without being angered enough to rip Spike's head from his neck over the entire thing. Angel had been only slightly tainted by his demon's posessiveness, Angelus was down right violent about it, especially when it came to her.

When the whole End of Days battle had begun, she had come clean to Angel about her relationship with Spike. Her confession had led to his admitting some things about Darla, and the whole devastating death of his only mortal son. The baby hadn't made it a week without the nurishment that only a mother could give him, and though Angel and his friends had tried their best, the little one had just died. It had killed something deep within Angel's heart, and he had sobbed for hours in her arms that night, rehashing all the wounds it had left on his soul. That night had also brought about the startling realization that Angel blamed God for all the suffering he had to endure, and that he hated him for it. She felt great sorrow for him, knowing how hard he'd been pushed to come to that opinion. In the early days of their relationship, he had told her that all he wanted was God's forgiveness for the things he'd done, and now it seemed like he would never get it.

"Why don't you go wait upstairs, love, and I'll take care of our guests," Angelus growled, pushing her away suddenly. Buffy chewed on her lip a moment before reluctantly complying with his orders. If she left, Riley's chances of survival were next to nil, the same went for all of his little gun lovin' tag alongs. But then she wondered why she cared. Sure, she was the Slayer, and she was supposed to care about humans, but what was the point when evil had taken over the world and the person was your ex who left you because you wouldn't feed his ego over your last boyfriend. Buffy giggled softly as she opened the door to the room that most definately belonged to Angelus. She shed her thin robe and sprawled across the bed on her stomach, clad only in her underwear.

Minutes stretched into eons before she heard Angelus' heavy footfalls outside the door. The door swung open with a loud sqeak and his presence consumed the room and left it in a cold, lifeless state. When he didn't come straight to the bed, Buffy rolled over and searched curly. ly. Angelus was stoking the dying embers of a fire she hadn't actively noticed before, his back was to her, but she could sense anger welling within him. As if he sensed her looking, which she figured he probably had, Angelus turned towards her, and the look in his eyes made Buffy shiver from head to toe. It was like a living fire cracking behind his chocolate brown orbs, a flame that screamed intensity. She had Angelus' complete attention, which did everything to make her feel like a trapped little mouse instead of the preditor she was.

Angelus smirked at her obvious fear and crossed the room with the deadly grace of a leopard. He reached the bed in only a few strides, and paused to strip off his silk shirt, letting the wine colored fabric spill to the floor like the liquid its self. The site of his lean, muscular body clad only in tight, black leather pants made Buffy's mouth water and her throat tighten in absolute lust. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and she saw him following her movements intently. "I could kill you right now," he murmured, climbing over her. "And no one, not even you, would protest."

"Kill, yes," she admitted. "Turn, not on your life." Buffy looked him straight in his intoxicating eyes and smiled. "I would rather die a thousand deaths than become a monster like you," she spat. Anger flared on Angelus' face, and he backhanded her across the face so hard she tasted blood in her mouth. She spit it up at his face and he growled in warning, gripping her arms so tightly she knew they would be bruised come morning. And then he laughed, Buffy stared in shock as he laughed, wiping the spittle and blood from his face. When he stuck a finger between his lips, her stomach churned as she was forced to see him taste her blood.

"Such spirit," he mused. "I'll take such joy in crushing it." Angelus smashed his lips against hers in a brutal kiss. She fought momentarily, before she found herself relaxing against his familiar taste. Buffy had no illusion that this was her worst nightmare, the enemy prancing around in her beloved's body, but it was so tempting to immerse herself in the illusion that all was right and that she and Angel were at a nice bed and breakfast somewhere off the beaten path to celebrate their wedding. It was, however, getting harder and harder to keep her little dream world alive because even more frequently Angelus was being cruel and causing her to snap to reality.

Sometime during her little inner monologue, Angelus had rid them both of their last few garments of clothes and she realized that he was now poised above her, waiting for her eyes to return to their normal lucid state. There was only slight pain as he shoved himself deep inside her depths, it wasn't like she was the whore of Babylon and accomodated to things like this. Before their encounter three days ago, she had been nearly celibate for almost ten years. He gave her no time to adjust, setting a moderate tempo of thrusts that reminded her so of her beloved Angel. Buffy screwed her eyes shut as she realized her only option was to surrender. Surrender to the pleasure he offered or be destroyed.

Ever so slowly she began to move her body in counterpoint to his, arching her hips upward and slamming into his pelvis. In the few times she had done this with him, she already knew she would never cease to wonder at the way their flesh connected so perfectly, as if they had been created for each other, for this specific purpose. Buffy wrapped her legs around Angelus' hips tightly and screamed in unholy bliss as her body shattered into a thousand undescribable pieces. She felt two small pin pricks of fangs sinking into the smooth column of her throat as he burst and spurted into her womb. Heard his roar as he collapsed over her, his weight making it hard for her to breathe.

Suddenly he rolled over with what sounded like a purr of pleasure and turned off the bedside lamp that had helped illuminate the room. The darkness was little comfort as he turned from her and settled down to sleep. Buffy choked back a sob as hot tears poured from her eyes. In doing this, she had not only betrayed herself, she had done the same as denying the love she had for Angel. She had failed him and everyone else she had ever cared about. Angelus smiled wickedly in the quiet, smelling the salt of her grief. Getting the Slayer to go against everything she had ever been taught was something to be accomplished. He slipped into a light, cautious sleep, leaving her alone with her guilt.

*

Spike grumbled in relief as the house was finally silent. For all the noise his sire and the Slayer were making, you'd think they were trynig to kill each other rather than boff each other into the next millenia. The time he'd spent laying between Buffy's alabaster thighs was something to cherish, yet one more thing he could say he'd accomplished before Angel. There were things he'd taught her that he knew his sire had never had the time to begin to scratch the surface of. Things that were greatly pleasing, and would infuriate the bastard when he found out she already knew and would accept doing. 'Course she'd suffered an attack of conscious and stopped seeing, and screwing, him ten years ago.

She was thirty now, and the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Stronger than ever, she should've had the chance to lead the world in a cry of victory. Evil had gone below the belt, taken something from her that was always and would always be her weak spot. The forces of darkness didn't strike at her family, her friends, like so many other fiends had done in years past. No, they had reopened a raw wound from her seventeenth year. Angel had been her great stabelizer, the one thing that had always pulled her back from the brink of something drastic. And the bad guys knew that, had dropped the Feast of Flesh into their laps and through a series of spells had gotten them to forego their inhibitions, their reasons for keeping apart in the physical way. Spike knew there was no one better at hurting Buffy than Angelus. Hell, the daft prick was the king of mental torture. What he'd done to Drusilla was only the tip of the ice burg.

There was nothing he could do now, not with Angelus having tripled strength from the ritual. Spike was stuck in the house that was now home to all of Angelus' living descendants, the most powerful post for any demon to be. All he was left with was fond memories of her decadent flesh, closing around him. Damnit, now he was randy again. Now that was a problem, considering he was forbidden from contact with any female until Angelus had passed judgement on him for fucking his precious Buffy. Sighing, Spike wrapped a fist around his engorgued flesh and squeezed, grunting softly in pleasure. This was sure to be a long night.

Chapter Two:

Sunnydale, CA
July 21, 2011

The heat was sweltering, the most unbearable thing on earth where Buffy was concerned. She spared a glance at her partner, Angel was also carefully picking his way through the cluttered debris of the Magic Box. They were looking for anything, any sign that there were survivors of the blast. Buffy wanted nothing more than to kill the Gnashi demons that'd set the charges to explode once the door was opened from the inside. Obviously they were trying to kill her and Angel, but they'd been on on patrol looking for the evil hideout. She felt cool hands on her shoulders, and instantly leaned back into Angel's firm chest. The temperature difference was so wonderful after everything that'd happened. "Buffy," he murmured. "I don't think we're going to find anything here. The blast most likely killed them all. I'm sorry."

"I HAVE to keep trying, Angel!" she cried, shoving away from him. "I owe it to them all to make sure, to find something of them to at least bury. They deserve it."

"I know, Buffy, I'm not suggesting that you give up, just take a rest for a while," Angel explained, following her. "You've been searching for hours, and it's hot and you've been all day without food and who knows how long without sleep." Buffy glanced around at what had once been her only safe haven left in Sunnydale. A tear slipped down her cheek as she realized that she'd probably never feel safe again. The world was collapsing around her, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. She let Angel draw her into his embrace, let him attempt to comfort her in the loss of the only family she'd ever known.

She barely noticed as he lifted her into his arms and began carrying her away from the wreckage. Through the streets of Sunnydale they went, finally ending up at a place Buffy hadn't seen since just after her seventeenth birthday. Angel's old apartment, the place where they'd made love for the first time and their world had come to a screeching halt. She couldn't make her lips move until he sat her down on the bed. "Why are we here?" she whispered.

"It's magickally shielded," he answered, sitting beside her. "Nothing can find us here, it's safe." Buffy swallowed hard at his promise, unsure of whether or not to believe him. Angel cupped her chin and tilted her face slightly upward, brushing his lips against hers for the briefest of moments, a taste of water to a thirsting man. Buffy whimpered, crushing herself against her beloved and sipping deeply of the well of his love. He dragged her into his lap, grinding his hardness against her firm, yet supple ass. The Slayer gasped and arched into a greedy palm that was caressing her breasts.

"Angel..." Buffy breathed, forcing herself to focus. "We can't...the curse..."

"I can't help it," her lover sighed, lowering his head to nibble on the sensitive flesh behind her ear. "It's like...like I'll die if I don't kiss you right now." Buffy moaned loudly as he bit gently on the loose flap of skin just over her jugular. It was a great show of trust to let him anywhere near her neck, him being a vampire and all, they both understood the symbolism.

But it was Buffy's own fingers that skillfully undid each of the painstakingly fastened buttons, her hands that pushed the material from her shoulders and baring her breasts with their dusky pink nipples to his view. His mouth, and his tongue were on her like a starving man, laving her taut flesh lovingly, drawing her between his lips and nipping slightly. "Oh God," she groaned, moving in tandem with him. "Angel...don't....don't stop..."

"Never," he growled. "Never...God, Buffy I love you so much..."

It was like tasting the heaven neither would get to know ever again. This moment of forbidden passion that they knew would cost them both dearly. Buffy knew that she felt alive for the first time in many years as her lover slid himself between her creamy thighs. He moved as if she were made of glass, a holy vessel into which he could pour his very soul. This, right here and now, was almost perfect. Her friends had died tonight, something she could never forget. But if this was going to be the last time she held Angel in her arms, she would damn well enjoy it until the end. God only knew what morning would bring.

"Angel," she murmured breathily. "Angel...oh God....oh Angel...love you." Her body was writhing on the bed as he played it skillfully like a finely tuned instrument. His dead heart fluttered at her delicate gasps and declarations of love. Together, they rocked gently, bodies flexing and crashing up into each other as the violence of their passion took hold of their senses. They finished with each their own great cry of ecstasy, heads thrown back as muscles shook in blessed release.

A cloud of blissful euphoria settled around them as they lay entwined in the bed, limbs tangled into making them one entity of their own. No horror, no terror could touch them in this time of un-adultered happiness. But darkness had one last hold on their minds, and each waited for the moment of change with baited breath. Neither moved, frozen in terror as the fog that had been sent to cloud their minds was lifted.

Buffy's perfect moment was shattered by the realization of how many others would pay for her mistake this time. She knew that she would never be a match for Angelus, she couldn't face the demon again, but because she hadn't thought, he would be unleashed upon the world. There was nothing she could do to stop it from happening, though she prayed that someone out there was listening, and that He didn't think her soul too tainted with sin to grant her plea. It didn't take long, less than two hours after realization had reclaimed them, Angel began to thrash about and wail in agony as his soul was ripped from his body once again.

*

From not too far away, a gathered group of sorcerers stopped their chanting. What had been paid for had thus been accomplished. The vampire with a soul was no more, the side of Good had lost one of their pivotal members to the Dark side. Angelus' fate as a key player in the End of Days had been set eons before his birth as a mortal man, the side he participated on had always been left a mystery. Different mages from both sides had seen about causing the little details to fall into place, such as his meeting with the Slayer. The Powers That Be had won on that one, citing that it was unfair for them to possibly loose two warriors in one fell swoop.

On their way out, the men and women who wore the business suits and emblems of the prominent Los Angeles law firm, Wolfram and Hart promptly thanked the sorcerers. The lawyers had been the bane of Angel's existence almost since his first arrival in the city and his first time interrupting one of their cases. These were people who would give anything for Angelus to fall from his place of redemption and join them. And they were far too dangerous to let live. The sorcerers made a pact as they closed the door, binding the lawyers from ever leaving that room lest someone who knew them open the door.

Sunnydale, CA
The Present

Angelus growled angrily as he was awakened from his sleep by thrashing on the bed. Half an instant later, he cracked one eye open to study the sleeping Slayer curiously. She was writhing on the mattress in what seemed a mixture of pleasure and terror. He could only guess what she was dreaming about, who she was dreaming about. Most probably it was her oh so precious Angel. That thought alone sent a streak of rage streaming through his body, and with a possessive roar, he lashed out and shook her.

Buffy's eyes shot open as she came awake with an audible gasp. She glanced around the room wildly, breathing hard. Her hand came up to smooth some sweat soaked hair away from her clammy face. Finally her vision came to rest on him, and in one fell swoop, she curled as far away from him as possible, huddling like a caged animal. His rich laughter filled the room in a burst of noise, startling her further.

"What did you dream of, my love?" he asked, shooting her a most lascivious look when he considered their state of undress. A small whimper fell from her lips, only causing him to laugh again. She was like a deer caught in headlights, a child caught doing something naughty.

"The Feast," she whispered after a moment. "My friends, the past, and now." She was stiff and tense as he dragged her across the bed and into his embrace. It took her a few minutes to relax, to just let him hold her, because she couldn't see finding comfort in the arms of a man with blood on his lips. Nothing mattered anymore, all of Sunnydale was in ruin, and soon the rest of the country would be as well.

"I can't be your Angel for you, beloved," he sighed, trying to fight the residual anger. "Not ever again, and I'm not sure why I'm sorry for that. But I don't have to hurt you, love, not if you listen and obey me."

"Are you going to destroy the whole country?" She asked, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against his broad, deliciously bare chest.

"I am content with Sunnydale and the rest of California for now, love," he answered. "Because there are much more powerful masters in these United States of yours. I wouldn't stand a chance if it came to a challenge between us all."

"Like dogs fighting over territory," she giggled. Momentary anger flushed in Angelus' face, but then he recognized the look in her eyes that were void of anything lucid. Something he saw nearly every day in Drusilla. Madness he had caused; insanity he'd created with his vast knowledge of mental torture. There was an influx of pride, but it was quickly replaced by the hope that it wasn't total or permanent. He wanted the Slayer whole; Dru bothered him now with her psychotic ways. Angelus wanted a mate that could rule by his side in his new home, already he could feel the power he retained from being Master of the City. Having a Slayer as his consort, his paramour, would give him enough power to hold the Hellmouth forever.

*

The surviving members of the initial raid on Angelus’ sanctuary were deep into the thought of hiding. Even if it was almost dawn, they were searching for shelter because any fool knew that the master vampire could order around an infinite number of demons that didn’t mind day light at all. They kept expecting to see a pack of assassins after them at every corner. All of them knew that there’d been a price for trying to take back the Slayer from the vampire, they had gone in there knowing that there was a possibility of failing.

Riley Finn had barely escaped with his life, and he knew why. Even when the vampire had been Angel, and he had been in Los Angeles and the End of Days had yet to befall them, there had been a certain amount of Intel that Angel was stark raving furious about his relationship with Buffy. Riley knew he was only tolerated because the vampire thought that he would make the Slayer happy.

A bolt of pain ran through his side, and still he pressed on until he found an abandoned warehouse. The troupes went in first, checking to make sure it was truly empty. When they gave the go ahead, Riley and the rest of the injured made their way inside, bolting the door behind them. Here they would wait out the day. Tonight they would regroup and try again. He just couldn’t leave Buffy with that…monster, no matter what they both said to the contrary.

Chapter Three

you let me violate you
you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you
you let me complicate you
help me
i broke apart my insides
help me
i've got no soul to sell
help me
the only thing that works for me
help me get away from myself

Closer - Nine Inch Nails

There was one rule in the house where Spike lived, you did whatever the fuck Angelus wanted, whenever he wanted, or you got tossed out to the lupines. Random packs of werewolves roamed the streets, looking for whatever scraps they could carry off, didn't matter if it had a pulse or not, just muscle and bone. Some of the more arrogant vampires kept the ones they could catch as a guard dog to deter misbehavior. Rumor had it that Angelus had the local Ulfric and lupa eating out of his palm, willing to do whatever he asked in return for sanctuary from his mass number of minions.

Years ago, Spike would've been privileged to know such a rumor to be true or not. But time had passed, and he had fallen out of favor with his master. He slept with the hellhounds and tended their messes. Any further insolence out of him would result in his immediate execution. At present, he had only been spared because the Slayer had asked for it. Angelus would have killed him where he stood when he found out that his progeny had lain with his mate, shoving himself between her silky thighs until they'd both exhausted themselves. Once might have been overlooked, but they had done the wicked dance countless times.

Those years with her had been some of the best of his long life. It had been nice to feel needed, to have something to do with his time that was meaningful. Helping her adjust to life in the world of the living. She had been very grateful to have him there, or so she said. But the minute that Angel had come prancing into town, she'd dropped him like a bad mistake.

Drusilla was known to be wandering these countless halls, rambling madly to herself of plans and portents that would arise in the future. If you cared enough to listen, valuable information could be obtained in reference to demons one could raise, create, and control for purposes only you could limit. But most dismissed her mutterings as useless, she hadn't been the same since she'd come back from Los Angeles. Spike seldom saw her, mostly because he made a point of avoiding her whenever possible. She was also still more than a little angry with him over his affair with the Slayer, kept saying he'd betrayed them all and trying to kill him.

*

Tanith growled angrily as she heard yet more squeaking box springs coming from her master's bedroom. Ever since that stupid Slayer bitch had been brought home, all Angelus had done was fuck her. He almost never came out of his room, and when he did, it was just to delegate feeding duties to the elders so they could help control the fledglings. She knew that any action against the blonde slut would be considered and act of high treason by the Master and all of his eldest progeny. And anyone found guilty of that would be put to an immediate and painful execution. But damnit, she was his too, and she would be damned if she was going to let some human take away her sire.

She had been Angelus' first new childe since he'd reverted to his soulless state, she was special he'd said, the newest of a long line to be reestablished carefully. He wouldn't tolerate another mess like what'd happened with Drusilla. Angelus had picked her for her raw beauty, the gorgeous brunette hair that flowed in loose curls around her six foot, voluptuous frame. The striking green eyes and pouty red lips that stood out from a feline face with porcelain skin. He had been shocked to discover that there were two of them, and so he'd also embraced her sister Nahara so he could have a matching set. Those first few hours after they'd fed had been some of the most erotic of her life. For the rest of eternity she would remember what it felt like to have her sire's thick cock burst through her maidenhead, claiming her the way he had every right to, just the way he would her sister a few hours later.

Left to her own devices, Tanith went about nude, but her still slightly prudish sister enforced at least a little cover. She smirked as she remembered the look on Nahara's face when she saw Spike, the master's black sheep of a childe, it had looked like the girl thought she was seeing the sunrise for the first time all over again. But they had been informed that he was off limits because Angelus was punishing him for something no one in the house was privilege to know. Tanith knew, she'd asked the second night her master had come to her silk covered bed, Spike was in deep shit for fucking the blonde Slayer. He was in exile until Angelus figured out what to do with him. But try telling that to Nahara, she thought the sun shined out of his ass, followed him around whenever she could.

The door to her bedroom creaked open, and she looked up from the bed where she lay to see Damien, one of the older fledglings, walk inside. Grinning wickedly, he stalked over to her, peeling off his clothing as he went. When he reached the edge of the mattress, he climbed over her naked body with a pantheric grace. Tanith's head whipped back, mouth open with a soundless scream as he rammed his impressive length into her silky flesh. He gave little to no time for her to adjust, rather started thrusting diligently.

Try as he might, Damien for all his skill and size, he just couldn't hold her attention. They both knew it, even as he pumped and grunted harshly, she could think of nothing but her sire, and eliminating his little bitch. Plans and schemes were formulated and tossed out almost as quickly as they came, until she at last settled upon one that sounded promising. A low growl came from Damien, accompanied by several jerky thrusts and she realized that he was about to come just as he roared and spilt his seed deep in her icy depths.

"Be careful," he whispered in her ear, nibbling the fragile shell of cartilage. She was nearly astounded by the fact he'd guessed her thoughts so easily, most wouldn't have seen. "You don't want to piss the master off that way, not by offing his mate of nearly fifteen years." With that, he pulled out of her and slipped from the sheets, pulling his clothing on. They both knew he was leaving her unsatisfied, there was nothing he would be able to do about it. At least he closed the door quietly, leaving her to her contemplation.

Tanith nearly howled in frustration at the purely female cry of pleasure that echoed through the old house like she'd really been there. She didn't know if she'd be able to survive hearing this day in, day out. Thank God Angelus attended to business at night, or she'd never get any peace and quiet.

*

And on the street below, a powerful vampiress whipped her flaxen tresses over her shoulder and hurried after her quarry. It was the first time she'd ever seen him leave the master's safe house, the first time she'd ever really seen him doing something he didn't appear to loath. But Nahara was not a simpleton, no matter how her sister made her out to be. She was merely more cautious than her vivacious twin was. She loved as passionately, and as deeply as Tanith ever could dream to care for the master. It had been obvious to all that when Angelus had brought them home, Tanith had set out to warn them all against taking her position in his bed.

Nahara feared what her sister was capable of now that she had true competition. When the master had brought his Slayer home to nest, there had nearly been an outcry among the ranks, quickly shoved down by his eldest progeny. No matter how distasteful anyone might find the subject, the blonde human was Angelus' mate, and Spike had informed them all as well as being the perfect example, that to touch her was to risk his wrath.

Spike had such an interesting mind, she had realized that from the moment he'd first spoken to her. Forbidden words to a favorite childe of the master when he himself was in exile. They all knew that he was alive by the Slayer's good graces alone. She had been seen pleading with the master that Spike hadn't done anything wrong but to keep her company while he was away being 'noble', whatever the hell that meant. Because her words did have an impact on Angelus, his features became drawn and sorrowful, and he'd apologized to her before sparing the bleached blonde vampire.

She lifted her nose and scented delicately, then followed Spike's movements to the right, down the deserted Sunnydale streets. None of the humans that had survived the End of Days were out after dark, which meant it was so damn hard to find dinner these days. The tourists were stupid though, they were the ones that kept the vampires in town fed. Those that came to see the wreckage from the 'massive earthquake' soon met an untimely end themselves.

So of course the realization that he could simply just be feeding did dawn on Nahara, it just sat at the bottom of a very tall pile of things that her beloved could be up to. Among the many of them could be searching for a way to escape. God knows that she and many of the others had often dreamed of trying to escape the overbearing master. But now that the Slayer had come, Angelus was much more lax, and enjoyable to live with. That wasn't to say the same with Tanith. She was still bitter about being cast out of his grand bed, only to be replaced by a human.

When they came upon a house, Nahara was stunned to see Spike walk inside to a warm greeting. It was yet another human, this one also pretty and sweet looking. She felt her blood boil when she saw the two kiss prettily. It was damn well outrageous for two vampires within the same clan to both be dating humans. That wasn't supposed to happen, not to her too. Wouldn't Tanith be so gleeful when she heard the news? That Nahara was as foolish in picking lovers as she was.

Chapter Four

Father into your hands, I commend my spirit
Father into your hands, why have you forsaken me?
In your eyes, forsaken me
In your thoughts, forsaken me
In your heart, forsaken me

Oh, trust in my, self-righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die
In my self-righteous suicide
Why cry when angels deserve to die

Chop Suey! - System of a Down

Buffy lay curled around Angelus like a lazy kitten, nipping and sucking gently at his broad chest. One of his muscular arms was wrapped tightly around her, lest she try to leave against his will. The other played with her silky golden locks that splayed across the pillow. Both were making soft contented noises, basking in the afterglow of yet another round of sex. She didn't doubt that he was catching a lot of flack for having her here, most vampires hated her which was fairly understandable. She was the scourge of the underworld, and she was mated to their king. It was a wonder why he put up with her in the first place.

"What furrows your brow, love?" he asked, shifting slightly. His thumb traced her forehead, forcing the tension out as he swept along. "Hmm?"

"Do they make fun of you?" she replied, cocking her head so she could look him in the eye. "For having me here?"

"Love," he sighed. "I don't give a damn what they think. If they want to confront me and lose my protection, they can, but it's going to cause them a hell of a lot more trouble doing that than just keeping their mouths shut and doing what they're told."

"You should hate me," she countered. "I'm the Slayer, I kill vampires. Hence, they all hate me." Angelus growled, and sat up on the bed, legs swinging over the side.

"But I don't," he spat angrily. "I don't hate you at all, and I don't understand it." With an animalistic noise, he shoved away from the mattress and stood, yanking on his pants. "I've got some things to do," he said shortly, stalking away and out the door. It slammed shut behind him, and Buffy felt a hot tear slip down her cheek as she heard the tumbler in the door fall as he locked her inside his chamber.

*

Spike smiled down at the woman he shared a loveseat with. It was far beyond him how Dawn had managed to survive the explosion and the masses of demons that had errupted out of the ground and swallowed many humans whole. He'd run into her a few weeks ago, found out her new address, and given her his solemn promise not to reveal where she was to anyone, not even her sister. She had asked him to come by some time for movies and popcorn, like he used to before this whole mess had happened, so here he was, watching some relic of a flick while she lay curled up next to him like he was a big pillow.

"How's Buffy?" she asked when the credits finally began to roll.

"She misses you l'il bit," he answered, unsure it even that was true any more. The Slayer'd seemed pretty cozy shaking up with Angelus. It might have something to do with the fact he wasn't trying to kill everybody at the moment. But the nanosecond he showed some of his evil ways, she'd be running out. Which wouldn't be good for her, or anyone that lived under the master's roof. Angelus would tear down heaven and hell to keep her with him.

He watched Dawn chew on her lower lip, a move that was so classically Buffy, that he would've done a double take if it hadn't been for the younger Summers' dark brown hair. Just because he was forbidden to spend time with Buffy didn't mean his feelings for her had lessened. It was the same way with his love for Drusilla, it would always be there, buried at the bottom of his cold, dead heart.

"I miss her too," the girl admitted eventually. "But I can't be found right now, not when Angelus is still controlling her. Promise me you'll keep an eye out for her?"

"As much as she'll let me," he swore, kissing her on the forehead. "I've got to get back," he announced, standing. "Things to go hell when I'm gone too long. Nobody else'll feed the hellhounds." Dawn nodded and gave him a quick hug before she let him walk out the front door.

Spike lit a cigarette the instant he stepped outside and took a long drag. He was getting far too old to be sneaking around and all that. A rustling behind him in the bushes caught his attention and he spun around to see a slender figure watching him. "Been following me long, luv?" he asked, almost positive of her identity.

"Since you left the house," Nahara answered, stepping into the illumination of the porch light. Spike looked at Angelus' creation with a mixture of concern and awe. She was the first to care more about him than the master, but would she go tattling on him if he let her go? "You have fun with your little human?" she asked bitterly.

"Don't you dare go tellin' Angelus about her," Spike warned. "Because if he does find 'er, I'll know who squealed, and I won't be too happy. Neither will the Slayer."

"Why her?" Nahara demanded. "Why would she give a damn about some human?"

"Dawn's the Slayer's kid sister," he answered. "Angelus has a yen to kill all of her loved ones, who are actually dead now, 'cept her."

"What is it with this family?" she snorted. "I've never seen vampires more inthralled with humans than you and Angelus."

"The Summers women were the first to ever show us kindness," Spike replied. "Their mother, Joyce, she was an upstanding lady. She died a long while ago though, brain tumor. I'm just watching out for Dawn, making sure she takes care of herself and all that."

"I won't tell," Nahara promised. "I'll keep your secret."

For the first time, Spike really saw the vampiress before him. She was very beautiful, quite remniscent of Drusilla, only this one was sane. As sane as you could be around Angelus, anyway. And he found himself wondering if he could ever love another, the answer was right there in her sweet green eyes. He found himself drawing her closer, pressing his lips roughly against hers, allowing his tongue to forcefully invade her mouth. Nahara squealed in pleasure, and wrapped her slender arms around his neck, pushing into the kiss like it was a lifeline.

Spike allowed himself to hold on to her lithe frame as they walked back to Angelus' compound. What would come from this, was a total mystery to him, but it felt good. Better than that, it felt right. When they arrived home, it was straight up to his room, lips and hands caressing wildly. Clothing melted away to nude, powerful bodies that magnetically clung together. She gave a wild gasp when he pushed into her, forcing through the tight passage that hadn't been touched since her one night with Angelus.

He groaned, she was so fucking perfect. Every time he moved within her was like a thousand little fingers touching him, squeezing him until he felt like he was going to pop. The little gasping noises she kept making reminded him of the first time he'd lain with the Slayer. But he shook off that train of thought as quickly as it came, there was nothing good coming from down that avenue of thinking. Their bodies moved together in a symphony of arching and thrusting, a blood tinged sheen of sweat enveloping their skin.

Hooking her heels around his thighs, she threw her head back and howled as she came. It was pleasure like she'd never imagined, never experienced until this moment. Spike was even better than she'd dreamed for all these weeks. Nahara smiled as her lover roared and finished off inside her, collapsing in near exhaustion. He kissed the side of her neck, and then promptly fell asleep. Laughing, she rolled him off of her, and snuggled against his side, joining him.

*

Though his anger had faded some, it had not disappeared by the time Angelus reached the main hall of his not so happy home. He was out of his ever loving mind, of that he was certain. How else could he be in love with a Slayer of all people? But he couldn't help the wrench in his heart whenever he thought of her, and the guilt at the realization he'd caused her pain back in the bedroom. It was all so fucking crazy, he wasn't sure how to handle it. He heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Tanith sauntering up to him.

"Good evening master," she purred, smiling in her barely there black dress. Angelus smirked, his childe was exuding barely concealed sexuality. It was one of her more attractive traits, if he did say so himself. That and her innocence had first attracted him to her. "Is there anything I can do for you, master?" she asked, rubbing against him like a bitch in heat.

A wicked smirk befell Angelus' lips, and he drew his childe closer. Any idiot could see that she wanted him, that she always had. She'd been following him around like a puppy ever since he'd brought her home. He slid a hantweetween her thighs and wasn't surprised to find her more than ready. Pinning her against the nearest wall, he unzipped the fly of his pants and pulled out his erect cock. With one swift move, he entered the shorter woman. Tanith moaned in ecstacy as he thrust rapidly, in short, jerky movements. This was the hard riding, mind blowing fucking that she missed so. Her master's near impossible length and girth ramming into her so hard she thought she'd split in two.

He grunted as he slammed her up against the hard brick wall, causing abraisions that neither cared too much about. A part of his mind, one deep inside, realized that he was only doing this in retalliation to what had happened between him and Buffy eariler, to prove that he wasn't totally and completely in love with her. He also knew that it was wrong, and that it would hurt her in the long run. Finishing silently, he pulled out of Tanith and straightened his clothes. When she fell against him again, this time in a haze of pleasure, he pushed her away.

Angelus left the room without a second glance to Tanith, who lay sprawled on the floor. He was on a mission to organize his minions against those who had raided his home. Those soldiers from the Initiative that thought keeping Buffy away from him was the best thing that could happen to her. The fools were dead wrong, and he was about to prove to them why. No one messed with his mate and lived, even if they were concerned about her wellfare.

*

It was the screaming that woke him. Riley Finn lifted his cotton filled head to look at the source of the disruption. What he saw made his blood run cold. There were demons everywhere, vampires and things he couldn't begin to describe. And they were ripping his men apart, rending them limb from limb. They didn't stand a chance.

He wasn't stupid, he knew this was retalliation for his raid on Angelus' home, but he didn't know how Buffy could have allowed it. His simple explaination was that the Slayer had no idea that her friends were being killed on that monster's orders. An enormous thing with slimy scales jumped him from the side, his claws ripping through vunerable human flesh. Fangs pierced his skin, causing blood to well to the surface. It brought none of the pleasure from the past, only pain that seared through him like a bullwhip.

Riley's last thoughts as he died were of Buffy...

*To be continued in the Epilogue*