Breaking a Slayer

Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 20

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 being noncommunicative to the point of absurdity, in Rupert's mind. He'd attempted, in the five minute drive from the mansion to his apartment, to draw his Slayer out on any topic she cared to discuss. Vampires, demons, the Hellmouth…she dismissed them all in words of two syllables or less and sentences that rarely stretched to more than three words at a time.

The forty-something bachelor was at a complete loss. How did one deal with a woman/girl who had been brutalized, raped and abandoned and had dwelled for over a month in the dark with things better staked rather than slept with, at least in Rupert's view. He had no idea how to draw Buffy back into the sunlight from thadohadows where she was hiding. He only knew that it was his duty to try and that her fate might very well lie in the balance if he failed.

So it was with more than his usual trepidation that he ushered Buffy into his apartment. She tossed her bag into a corner and sat on the couch silently, not facing him or giving any sign of what she was thinking. Rupert's first thought was to make tea, but he realized that if he succumbed again to his instinctual British reactions that he would spend yet another night visiting the loo every hour. Instead, he sat awkwardly down next to the tiny Slayer and picked up one of her hands, cupping it in his large one as he gazed kindly into her face. She met his eyes reluctantly, flinching from even that tiny amount of human contact.

"Buffy," he said softly. "I know you're been hurt, harmed almost past bearing, by your friends and me, by Angel and the loss of your dear mother, by the things that were done to you and the things that you've done this summer. But I want you to know that I'm proud of you. Your strength, your sense of purpose, your commitment to helping those in need, have seen you through crisis after crisis. And they'll see you through this, as well. I'm here now, Buffy. I'm not going to leave you to try to handle this on your own. We're together…a team…and we'll work with each other daily until you can handle everything that the Hellmouth throws at you. Please, Buffy…forgive me for being so blind that I could not see your pain."

Buffy looked into his myopic blue eyes and felt a frozen piece of her heart break free from the cold dark that had enveloped it. She reached for Giles and he held her as she sobbed brokenly against his chest. Things would be all right now. He would make it so.*
*

Spike threw a few black t-shirts, some socks and one pair of jeans onto the bed and said, "A'right, Peaches. I'm packed."

Angel looked at him, engrossed in carefully folding one silk shirt after another and placing them carefully into a fine leather suitcase. "You can't be serious, Spike."

"Hell and damnation, Sire, do you have to be such a bleeding pouf all the time?" Spike ranted. "It's a few days. What more do I need? Look at you. Is this Angelus, the Scourge of Europe?" he sneered.

"Well, Spike, actually, this is far less than I ever traveled with then," Angel noted reasonably as he began folding slacks to place into the case. "After all, just my cravats and gloves alone took up an entire small case, not to mention evening clothes, morning clothes, small clothes, dinner clothes, cloaks and stockings. Do you remember that one seven-caped great coat that I had in 1879? That was a wonderful coat…" he trailed off wistfully, wishing momentarily that top hats and gloves were back in fashion again.

"Gods, you are such a wanker," Spike grumbled. "Give me black jeans and a t-shirt any day over all that rot. You were a toff then and you're nothin' but a toff now," he jeered.

"I don't see that it's any concern of yours how I dress," Angel said reprovingly. "I gave up velvet because it screams 'vampire.' I no longer wear tails and a top hat. I've even got a…sweatshirt…" he mumbled, though he'd never actually worn it. He couldn't bring himself to, just yet. Another few years and he'd grow accustomed to the newer styles. He always did…eventually. That was one drawback of practically eternal life. You just got used to a style or fad and then the next one was in and you were forced to change. It was jarring to a being of his years. He wondered how it had felt to the Master, who'd been alive for over a thousand….

Spike had never concerned himself with dressing to the nines, so it didn’t matter to him when the styles changed radically from one generation to the next. He'd welcomed the forties with their stylish suits, hated the boring fifties and loved dining on hippies in the sixties. Never knew just what they would have in their systems…from mushrooms to lsd and everything in between. *God, flower children were fab,* he thought nostalgically. *They'd screw you silly while talking about free love and then let you suck on their necks.* Damn he missed the sixties!

Angel finally finished packing and placed Spike's few necessities neatly on top of his own well-ordered piles before closing and zipping the case. Spike was mesmerized by his sire. Angel was such a bundle of contradictory impulses. Bar brawler, aristocrat, lecher, sadist, esthete, masochist, sire, ensouled pansy, intellectual, swordsman and dark torturer, wrapped into one extraordinarily beautiful package.

Spike could see why his thrice-damned grandsire had taken Liam and turned him to Angelus. He was so very lovely. Those dark eyes and thick hair, that satin smooth skin and huge body, it all combined into a heady and overwhelming package of lustful vamp. Spike practically salivated just looking at him and Angel, in his ridiculous soulful modesty, had absolutely no idea that his childe was so overcome.

Then Angel glanced up for a moment and Spike realized that his sire had known of his regard this whole time and was posing intentionally for his benefit. Spike growled in angry lust and moved forward to pull Angel into a passionate kiss.

Angel responded in kind, yanking the slighter man against him and delving deep into his cool mouth. *Spike tastes of cigarettes and blood,* thought Angel, and he craved that distinctive taste, especially since he'd had to watch Buffy leave with her Watcher.

Their kisses were passionate, yet soft, filled with a tenderness Spike was unused to in his sadistic sire.eluselus had reveled in inflicting pain upon his childer, indeed, his unlife was centered around the suffering of others. But Angel, oh, the softness with which Angel stroked Will's sensitive throat, the gentle caresses he bestowed upon his childe's silky nape…it drove Spike mad with unfettered desire.

Angel traced Spike's jutting cheekbones with sensitive thumbs, stroking down to his childe's neck before sweeping his sensitive fingers lower. He dwelled for minutes on Spike's elegant and muscular neck, teasing and tantalizing the younger vampire with erotic tracings around his carotid arteries and adam's apple. Spike sighed in wonder, his entire being overcome with the sensations that his sire drew from him.

Allowing another vampire anywhere near that vulnerable spot was a sign of total submission. And it was that submission that Angel/Angelus had craved and demanded from his childer. Complete capitulation to his every whim was Angelus's requirement. Spike granted it willingly, his total being on fire with desire for his beautiful sire. He turned his head to the side, angling it slightly so his neck was totally exposed to Angel.

Angel pressed kisses down the tender flesh before him, sucking delicately on Spike's neck and coaxing groans of passion from his wanton childe. Angel slipped skillful fingers under Spike's t-shirt and swept it over his childe's head with one quick motion, leaving that pale, muscular chest nato hto his enraptured gaze. His mouth moved lower, sucking and biting at Spike's collarbones until his childe groaned against his mouth in lust.

Angel swept both hands down to tease Spike's sensitive nipples, twisting them and pulling until Spike was lost in rapture and need. Then he struck, brutally hard, with razor sharp fangs and bit deeply into his childe's chest, sucking voraciously and pulling on one sensitive nipple until Spike shouted in pain and want, clutching his sire's dark head even harder to himself.

This was all about possession and dominance, and Angel ripped the jeans from Spike's slender legs, grateful that his childe preferred to go "commando" as Buffy was fond of calling it. His hands swept down to cup Spike's turgid cock, pulling and teasing at it until Spike thrust his hips forward into his sire's large hands. Angel stopped before his childe could come, flipping him abruptly below his own bulk and ripping his pants down so he could ravage his childe's ass. Angel paused for only a moment to slice open one wrist and coat his cock with blood before plunging into his childe with consummate force.

Spike groaned beneath him, submitting with illicit pleasure to his sire's demands and gaining the sinful delight that accompanied such fealty. Angel pumped his childe's dick with one hand while thrusting deep within him and brought them both to the pinnacle of ecstasy before sinking fangs deep into Spike's neck and sucking them both into orgasm while he fucked his childe raw.

Angel withdrew from Spike's now-bloody ass and rolled to one side, drawing the slighter man onto his broad chest. He kissed Spike tenderly and pulled him to his own neck. "Drink, childe, even if it is for the last time. Know that you are my own, my Favored Childe, and I will love you always."

Spike struck, sinking his aching fangs deep into Angel's thick neck and drinking his fill of his sire's heady blood. The completion he found in his sire's bloody embrace was like no other he could ever imagine. He sighed in repletion as he drew his fangs out of Angel's neck and morphed back to his human countenance.

Angel stroked Spike's tousled blond head gently for a moment and kissed him softly with heartbreaking care before sitting up and drawing his clothes back on. They left the room and climbed into the car without needing any words. The link between them was more than enough.
be cbe continued…