Breaking a Slayer
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Angel(us)/Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
10,474
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Angel(us)/Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
10,474
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 17
Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 17
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 was numb. The cool night air calmed her overwrought nerves and soothed her aching head. She nestled close to Angel's broad, unbeating chest, and realized that Giles had upset her with more than his questions. His very humanity grated on her in a way she didn't fully comprehend. She had been without significant human contact for two months now, and the undead and demons had become her reality. Humans; their smell, their touch, their heat and grating higher pitched voices; they were alien to her now in a frighteningly real sense.
*I won't think about it,* she thought futilely, as the glaring differences between the silent, cold chest of her undead soulmate and the overheated, beating heart of her watcher jarred in her mind. Spike paced gracefully behind them, as quiet as a shadow and equally dark, despite his bleached hair and fair skin.
"Buffy," Angel said, walking smoothly through the dark with her cradled against him as if she weighed nothing at all. "Did Giles upset you or were you just…troubled by all that you had to tell him?"
She could sense the tension in her mate and realized that he was asking in his elliptical fashion if Giles was to be trusted with their fragile and tenuous new connection.
"It wasn't his fault, Angel," she said. "I just…it was hard…talking about Mom and Faith and…everything."
What Buffy left unsaid jarred upon Angel more powerfully than any of her words. She still hadn't come to terms with the rape and its aftermath. He hadn't allowed himself to see, to really know, how wounded his mate remained. He'd blindly assumed that if she could enjoy sex with him…with them…that she was healed. The truth was clearly another matter entirely. But how could they help her regain her sense of self when they were, by their very nature, the things she was sworn to destroy? Was her relationship with them helping her or merely harming her further? How could they truly help her to heal?
*
Spike was pacing behind Angel in appropriate beta position and brooding. And hating it. His was not a dark and dramatic nature. At least, not in the way that Angel's was. Hell, Angelus had been like that, too. *Guess it isn't the bloody soul's fault, after all,* he thought to himself. No, Spike was an act and react kind of guy. Fly by the seat of your pants and all that rot. This introspective garbage was for the Pouf. Yet. Yet he was being forced to think, with that portion of himself he preferred to believe had died with the poet. The Slayer wasn't getting better. Not really. Each member of their little menage a trois was flawed in a major way, and they seemed to be growing more damaged, not less, with every passing day.
Spike had watched Angel quite a bit since the soul's return…more, he'd bet, than his sire realized. And he knew that Angel was coming undone. Angelus, always a deadly current swirling just below the surface of the affable persona Angel affected, was growing more powerful daily. Spike could only imagine what his sire would be like after completing the next part of the ritual, which was set in September, mere weeks away.
Spike wondered what would happen to him after the chip came out of his *own* skull. Not inclined to waste time worrying about the future when there was fun to be had in the present, he nonetheless shook a bit at the thought of someone cutting his skull open…again…and messing with his brain. What if they damaged something irretrievably taking the damned chip out? What if he wasn't *him* when he woke up? What if he turned into some brain-rotted minion instead of a master? Would he be able to control himself? Would his sire demand that he leave? What would the Slayer do? If he fed on any but the true dregs of society, Spike knew that she'd be compelled to act. Did he care?
He snarled angrily to himself, *bloody brooding twat! Yer as bad as the Pouf. Worse.* He stormed ahead of Angel into the mansion, opening the door for his sire but not pausing to watch him enter. Spike stalked into the kitchen and warmed himself another mug of blood to replace what Angel had taken from him. He sat there in the dark, hiding himself away from his housemates and brooding, even as he hated himself for doing it.
*
Angel placed Buffy into her bed, tucking the soft sheets and sumptuous covers around her slender body. She was drawn and pale, with circles under her eyes from lack of real rest. He sat on the bed and stroked her soft hair with soothing fingers as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. The golden-brown curls slid and teased his sensitive fingertips, prompting just the hint of a purr to rumble forth from deep within him. Buffy was too tired to respond, and dropped into a dreamless sleep as her love watched over her with brooding eyes and heavy heart.
Tomorrow…tomorrow he would leave Buffy with her Watcher and take Spike to LA to have the chip removed. God help them all…it was time to redeem his word.
To be continued…
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 was numb. The cool night air calmed her overwrought nerves and soothed her aching head. She nestled close to Angel's broad, unbeating chest, and realized that Giles had upset her with more than his questions. His very humanity grated on her in a way she didn't fully comprehend. She had been without significant human contact for two months now, and the undead and demons had become her reality. Humans; their smell, their touch, their heat and grating higher pitched voices; they were alien to her now in a frighteningly real sense.
*I won't think about it,* she thought futilely, as the glaring differences between the silent, cold chest of her undead soulmate and the overheated, beating heart of her watcher jarred in her mind. Spike paced gracefully behind them, as quiet as a shadow and equally dark, despite his bleached hair and fair skin.
"Buffy," Angel said, walking smoothly through the dark with her cradled against him as if she weighed nothing at all. "Did Giles upset you or were you just…troubled by all that you had to tell him?"
She could sense the tension in her mate and realized that he was asking in his elliptical fashion if Giles was to be trusted with their fragile and tenuous new connection.
"It wasn't his fault, Angel," she said. "I just…it was hard…talking about Mom and Faith and…everything."
What Buffy left unsaid jarred upon Angel more powerfully than any of her words. She still hadn't come to terms with the rape and its aftermath. He hadn't allowed himself to see, to really know, how wounded his mate remained. He'd blindly assumed that if she could enjoy sex with him…with them…that she was healed. The truth was clearly another matter entirely. But how could they help her regain her sense of self when they were, by their very nature, the things she was sworn to destroy? Was her relationship with them helping her or merely harming her further? How could they truly help her to heal?
*
Spike was pacing behind Angel in appropriate beta position and brooding. And hating it. His was not a dark and dramatic nature. At least, not in the way that Angel's was. Hell, Angelus had been like that, too. *Guess it isn't the bloody soul's fault, after all,* he thought to himself. No, Spike was an act and react kind of guy. Fly by the seat of your pants and all that rot. This introspective garbage was for the Pouf. Yet. Yet he was being forced to think, with that portion of himself he preferred to believe had died with the poet. The Slayer wasn't getting better. Not really. Each member of their little menage a trois was flawed in a major way, and they seemed to be growing more damaged, not less, with every passing day.
Spike had watched Angel quite a bit since the soul's return…more, he'd bet, than his sire realized. And he knew that Angel was coming undone. Angelus, always a deadly current swirling just below the surface of the affable persona Angel affected, was growing more powerful daily. Spike could only imagine what his sire would be like after completing the next part of the ritual, which was set in September, mere weeks away.
Spike wondered what would happen to him after the chip came out of his *own* skull. Not inclined to waste time worrying about the future when there was fun to be had in the present, he nonetheless shook a bit at the thought of someone cutting his skull open…again…and messing with his brain. What if they damaged something irretrievably taking the damned chip out? What if he wasn't *him* when he woke up? What if he turned into some brain-rotted minion instead of a master? Would he be able to control himself? Would his sire demand that he leave? What would the Slayer do? If he fed on any but the true dregs of society, Spike knew that she'd be compelled to act. Did he care?
He snarled angrily to himself, *bloody brooding twat! Yer as bad as the Pouf. Worse.* He stormed ahead of Angel into the mansion, opening the door for his sire but not pausing to watch him enter. Spike stalked into the kitchen and warmed himself another mug of blood to replace what Angel had taken from him. He sat there in the dark, hiding himself away from his housemates and brooding, even as he hated himself for doing it.
*
Angel placed Buffy into her bed, tucking the soft sheets and sumptuous covers around her slender body. She was drawn and pale, with circles under her eyes from lack of real rest. He sat on the bed and stroked her soft hair with soothing fingers as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. The golden-brown curls slid and teased his sensitive fingertips, prompting just the hint of a purr to rumble forth from deep within him. Buffy was too tired to respond, and dropped into a dreamless sleep as her love watched over her with brooding eyes and heavy heart.
Tomorrow…tomorrow he would leave Buffy with her Watcher and take Spike to LA to have the chip removed. God help them all…it was time to redeem his word.
To be continued…