Breaking a Slayer

Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel.

Distribution: Sure, just let me know.

Feedback: Is always nice.

Rating: NC-17.

Buffy pulled herself from the cool clutches of her vampiric lovers and walked slowly to the bathroom. She ran herself a hot bath, pouring a heaping cup of vanilla bubble bath into it and hissing as she climbed in. She was sore in places she hadn't expected, but it was a good feeling, rather like working a set of long-ignored muscles. Laying her head back against the cool marble, she thought about exactly what she was going to say to Giles when he arrived back in Sunnydale later that afternoon.

On the one hand, she was still more than a little angry at him and her other friends for not realizing that Faith had switched their bodies. After all, Buffy had known Giles in demon form, shouldn't he have recognized her somehow? She knew she was being irrational -- after all, Giles had been trying to act like himself, whereas Faith heen een trying to act like Buffy. It was no wonder she'd been able to fool them. But Buffy still felt betrayed, however irrational the feeling. Betrayed and…well…lost. With no friends and no watcher for most of the summer, not to mention the loss of her mother *and* her home, she would have felt bad enough, even leaving aside the rape and beating she'd gone through.

One thing was certain, though, she decided. No one was telling her what to do anymore. She was content with her living situation, however bizarre it might be. She wasn't giving up either of her undead lovers…not without a fight.

Ducking her head under the warm water, she swooshed the short curls back and forth to get them thoroughly wet before surfacing. She wiped the water from her eyes and reached one hand for the shampoo, but it wasn't there. Suddenly, she felt something dripping onto her head and looked up to see Angel crouching by the tub surround with the shampoo bottle. He half-smiled at her in his knowing way and put the bottle down, moving cool hands to massage the shampoo into her scalp. Buffy sighed in pleasure and relaxed into his hands, loving the feel of his strong fingers stroking and tugging at her thick hair. He rubbed and caressed until every inch of her head felt like it had been smoothed with velvet. When she was about ready to fall asleep, he pushed her back under the water to rinse.

Buffy came up, sputtering, and splashed him with a fistful of bubbles. Angel actually laughed out loud and splashed her back, his much larger hand getting a good bit more water into the action. Buffy retaliated by pulling him headlong into the tub with her.

Angel surfaced, looking completely shocked and very silly with his hair dripping water from each spiky tuft. Spluttering needlessly, he caught her and pulled her to him, about to push her back under the water again, when the sight of her pink nipples peeking through the bubbles made him go very still. He slowly reached his hands out to cup her breasts gently, his cool palms pebbling the nipples instantly in the warm water.

Buffy groaned and moved closer to Angel, literally awash in the sensations he provoked so easily within her. She reached for him, but his control was back this morning and he knew that if he let her touch him, all that hard-won resolve would disappear. Instead, he pushed her back against the side of the tub and grinned knowingly at her before disappearing under the bubbles.

Buffy gasped as she felt Angel's cool hands pushing her thighs apart. It had never occurred to her that he really didn't need to breathe. His sensitive fingers moved slowly up her legs until he reached the tender hollows of her hips. He pushed them even further apart, teasing the soft skin there, stretching and opening her to his questing fingers. She felt one cool finger tease her nether lips, stroking first one, then the other until she groaned in desire.

Suddenly, the water sloshed around her as he surged forward, taking her clit in his cold mouth. Buffy shrieked in lust as Angel sucked her. He pressed first one then two fingers into her warm pussy and she nearly jumped out of the water. She responded to the rhythm he set, rocking against his fingers and mouth until she came in a burst of pleasure.

Spike chose that exact moment to strut into the bathroom, plopping himself next to her on the tub surround in all his naked glory. Buffy thought, *I will never get used to naked Spike. Never, never, never. And he never seems even the slightest bit embarrassed about being nude.* She, on the other hand, was feeling decidedly exposed, which she knew was stupid, since he'd seen and touched everything already.

"So, Slayer, decided to have a little party all by your lonesome here in the tub? Should'a called me. I would have come and joined you," he punned, looking at her with dark eyes that screamed sex.

"Um, you thought I was…" Buffy paused, unwilling to even say wordword.

"Well, I'd call it wanking, if t'were me, but I'm not sure what you call it, Slayer. Still, kinda silly for you to do it all alone," he purred. "There's plenty of me to go around." He grinned cockily at her and stroked his hand down her damp arm, sending tingles up and down her nerves.

Angel chose that moment to surface between her legs, shaking his head like a dog to rid it of water. He licked his lips and slid up her slippery body to kiss her. Spike yelped and fell backwards off the tub, landing in an undignified tangle on the floor. Buffy burst out laughing, and Angel looked confused for a moment, then grinned himself as Spike swore a blue streak on the floor.

"Jesus Christ, Peaches, give a guy a little warning before you do that. Trying to kill me - again? Now I see what you were up to, Slayer. Don't lose his soul for him, Pet, though it sounded more like you were the one doing the screaming." Spike stood up and gazed at the two lovers with lust-filled eyes. If he were brutally honest with himself, he didn't know which of them was more enticing to him right now. The Slayer was all golden sunshine, her skin glowing a healthy tan and her eyes the green-hazel of turning leaves.

But his sire, oh. Darkness personified was Angel. Night dark eyes, dark hair, dark nature, with that strong, dangerous body that dominated everything around him. Spike knew that much of the pull he felt was the sirelde lde bond. It wasn't even precisely sexual, though that was the simplest expression of it. It was a sense of being complete, of being home that he always felt when he was near Angel, no matter how he tried to fight it.

As an alpha, a master vampire in his own right, the nearly automatic submission he felt when near Angel grated on his every nerve, but the satisfaction of that submission also soothed the very nerves that l upl upset so. It was different with a female sire, though certainly Angelus and Darla had delighted in some knock down drag out fights. She was right brutal, was his grandsire, but he'd always had the feeling that Angelus tolerated the abuse because he enjoyed it, not because he craved the submission that went with it.

Spike shook his head angrily at himself. *Turning me into a bloody pouf, he is. Look at me, all broody, just like his majesty. I need a good fight, that's what…to set everything aright again.* "So," he smirked coolly at the waterlogged lovers, "you two spending the rest of the afternoon in there, or you coming out?"

"Afternoon, God, what time is it, Spike?" Buffy asked, standing and climbing quickly from the warm tub.

Spike wrapped her in a huge towel, surrounding her like an infant and hugging her in his strong arms, rubbing briskly to dry her off. "It's a bit after 3, why, Pet?"

"Damn," Buffy swore. "Giles's plane is supposed to get here at 3:30 today, that's why, Spike. I've got to get to the airport, pronto." She pushed away from him and scrubbed the towel across her head rapidly to dry her hair. "At least this is quick now," she muttered, dropping the towel and walking to the bedroom to pull on clean underwear, a tank-top, sweats and a flannel shirt. Cramming her sneakers on, she sprinted for the door, leaving her nonplussed lovers staring after her in amazement.

"Wow, I haven't her her move that quickly in a while," Angel remarked as he climbed out of the tub.

Spike took one longing look at his sire's large dripping frame and swore, stomping from the bathroom and grabbing for his own clothes. He crammed himself into his jeans and turned to face Angel, coming from the bathroom and drying himself with another sheet, this one dwarfed by his huge frame. His muscles glistened with water and Spike's eyes followed the trail of one droplet down the broad chest to the tapered waist and down further…

Spike swallowed and blurted out, "Looks like you need some exercise, Sire. How about a little sparring session downstairs? Work off some of that tension you seem to carry around with you everywhere."

Angel looked up in bemusement. "You want to fight? Why?"

Spike glanced away. "Can't fight humans, the chip flares. Haven't caught that many demons of late. Need some exercise. Work off some steam. You know."

Angel nodded. He, too, could use the release. Being this close to Bukeptkept him in an almost constant state of arousal and he had little outlet for it other than Spike. Angel knew that Spike resented the power of the sire/childe bond and tried not to push the limits of his childe's tolerance too much. At least, when he could think. When he was actually caught up in the bond with Spike, thinking pretty much went out the window. Age-old instincts flared and his deep need to assert dominance took over the only way it could. *Well,* Angel thought, *I suppose I could just rip hunks of flesh out of him. Come to think of it, he might prefer that. But I wouldn't. He's so beautiful, so dangerous, such a mixture of assurance and vulnerability. Will is irresistible and the worst part is, he doesn't even know how marvelous he truly is.*

Angel pulled his own pants on and the two started down the stairs toward the kitchen. He pulled two packets of blood from the fridge while Spike grabbed their mugs from the cabinet. Companionably sipping the warmed blood after it came from the microwave, Angel and Spike walked to the great room. Angel finished first and began hauling the couch and chairs out of the way. Spike dragged the coffee table to the side and moved a lamp.

"Weapons?" Angel asked with an inquiring look at his childe.

"How about swords. Haven't bested you with those in some time." Spike smirked at him.

"You've never bested me with swords, Childe," Angel rumbled at Spike as he opened the long weapons chest and pulled two matched hand-and-a-half swords from it. Tossing one to Spike, as only a vampire could do with such a heavy weapon, Angel closed the chest and stalked toward his childe.

"Well, maybe not, but the Slayer has…" Spike sneered.

Angel blinked for a moment, then remembered the fight with Buffy in this very room and its dreadful aftermath. "Thanks, Spike," he growled.

"What for, Peaches?" Spike asked, a bit askance at Angel's sudden ferocity.

"For making me *want* to fight you. En garde!"

*

Buffy wanted to run. She wanted to fight. She wanted to be anywhere but here, in the airport, waiting for Giles to get off the plane. It was a good thing that Giles had bought his tickets so long ago, since he'd had no way to contact her since he'd left. She'd lost the house only a few weeks later, so even if he had called her, he wouldn't have been able to reach anyone with the phone disconnected.

Part of her, a small, childish part, hoped he'd tried to call and been worried about her. With her mother gone and her father long absent from her life, Giles had become the only thing close to a parent. His abandonment of her, even though it wasn't meant to be so, had nonetheless been extremely traumatic.

She searched the crowd for that familiar bespectacled profile. Laughing couples exited the plane, children ran to greet grandparents. Friends raced into each other's arms. Never had she been more conscious of her own isolation from humanity. She was alone. Alone in the dark with her vampires, both friend and foe.

Shaking her head and kicking herself mentally for being so damn morose, Buffy continued to search the crowd. At last, she saw the slightly balding head and tweed-encased frame of her Watcher striding off the plane.

Rupert Giles paced forward, grateful to be free of the enclosed confines of the plane and the overwhelming press of crude humanity that accompanied him. This was why he preferred books to people. Most of them had the refined sensibilities of cockroaches, in his humble opinion. *Ah, but where is Buffy?* He scanned the crowd for the familiar blonde head and scantily clad body of his Slayer, passing over a drab-looking girl with short golden-brown curls without a second glance. He walked forward and jumped, startled as the girl grabbed him and hugged him.

"I say, who…Buffy?" he gasped, amazed at the difference in her appearance. She let him go and stepped back a ways. Though he'd often wished that Buffy would spend a bit, well actually a great deal, less time worrying about her appearance and a bit more time on books and strategy, he'd never in a million years expected to see her looking quite so…drab. She was thin, much thinner than when he'd last seen her and her eyes…her eyes spoke of pain that time hadn't dulled. What in God's name had happened whilst he was gone?!

Giles polished his glasses and stared at his Slayer, uncertain of what to say. "Um, er, ah, Buffy, good to see you. You're looking…um, I hope your summer has been uneventful?" His voice trailed off as she gazed at him stonily for a moment.

"Shouldn't we be getting your luggage?" Buffy said, dropping her eyes from his, unwilling to discuss anything too intimate in this setting.

Giles honored her unspoken wishes and gestured for her to proceed him towards the luggage carousel. They waited in uncomfortable silence, surrounded by myriad other travelers with lovers, friends and children babbling in exuberant tones. Giles was now struck by how out of place Buffy seemed. She'd never been uneasy in crowds before, but she winced as if hurt every time a moderately loud noise occurred. And she shrank from the touch of the other people surrounding them as if she'd been burned. Clearly all was far from well with his Slayer.

After retrieving his bags, Giles and Buffy walked to the curb and he hailed a cab to take them back to his apartment. "So, how *has* your summer been?" he inquired genially, as they rode in the back seat, thinking the question innocuous enough for public consumption. To his surprise, Buf eye eyes filled with tears and she pulled away towards the door, looking out the window to distance herself from him.

"Let's wait…wait till we get to your place," her voice cracked and she sniffed, sounding close to weeping.

"Of course, of course…" he trailed off, uncertain of what he'd said to upset her so.

They arrived and he paid the cabby, tipping moderately and they carried his bags inside. Buffy placed the ones she carried on the floor and went to look out the window, visibly withdrawing from him.

Giles was unsure how to proceed. He didn't want to push…"Tea! Would you care for some tea, Buffy?"

"Sure."

He nodded in relief and walked to the kitchen, taking comfort in the predictable ritual. Scald the pot to warm it while the water boiled on the stove. Measure the loose tea into the ball and close it. Damn. He'd no cream or lemon slices. Well, they'd have to make do with sugar. At least the brown sugar cubes he'd brought back from England were ready and available in his travel case. He drained the teapot and placed the ball in, filling it up and covering it with a cozy to steep. He waited in silence for a few minutes, puttering about in the kitchen for no real reason.

"So. The Watchers' conference went well. We discussed some fascinating cases. I actually presented on several myself…um," he fiddled with his glasses again, "do you care to say what you've been up to while I was away?" he asked uncertainly from the kitchen as he filled two cups with the warm liquid and added sugar. He carried the cups out and placed one on the table near the window, turning and sitting on his couch to face Buffy.

"Faith stole my body. You didn't notice. She slept with Riley and half a fraternity at school. She switched back and left me to be gang-raped at a bar. Riley dumped me. I left school. Mom died. I lost the house. I killed two men. Spike saved me. Angel helped him. I'm living with Spike and Angel at the mansion now." Buffy continued to stare out the window, delivering the laundry list of atrocities in a toneless voice as if she were reciting a list of chores.

Giles spat the sip of tea he'd taken across the room, choking in shock at Buffy's words. He dropped the cup to the table with a thunk and leaped to his feet, crossing the room in seconds to grab Buffy's shoulders and turn her about to face him.

"My God, Buffy. Don't make sick jokes about such dire things, for goodness sake!" he shouted, glaring into her face and praying that was all this was. Her shell-shocked features gave the lie to his hope and he sank to his knees, holding the girl in his arms as she began to cry, softly at first and then with great wrenching sobs that shook her entire too-thin frame.

"Shush, shush, Buffy, it's alright. Everything is alright now. I'm here. I'm here Buffy." His awkwardness disappeared as he held the girl who was like his daughter in his arms and tried to comfort her with soft and gentle words. *But who will comfort me?* he wondered. *I left her, I didn't even recognize her. Or perhaps I was too caught up in my own life. I've felt adrift since she started college, unable to truly guide her anymore as she becomes an adult. I've distanced myself from her every chance I got and this…this catastrophic result was my fault. I should have known, damn it!* Eventually, her shuddering stopped and she quieted, leaning against his chest and sighing as he wiped her face with his handkerchief.

Giles drew the Slayer to his couch, tucking an afghan around her securely and handing her tea cup to her. She sipped at it slowly and haltingly recounted the grim tale of Faith's crime, the body switch and return, and subsequent trials she'd had to face alone, with no friends, no family and no Watcher to comfort or guide her. Giles was struck by the loneliness and despair that pervaded the earlier parts of the account and the self-assurance with which spo spoke of Spike and Angel. Whatever his decidedly mixed feelings about the vampires, there was no questioning that without them, Buffy would almost certainly have peris


To be continued…