Breaking a Slayer

Buffy was in Faith's body


Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Spoilers: This is loosely based on BtVS "Who Are You" and "This Year's Girl" with lines from those and Ats "Sanctuary," however, I would call it AU because I've played bloody hell with the timelines and added Spike's dream from "Out of My Mind" in order to justify using him. (God, wouldn't I love to use him!)

Distribution: Sure, just let me know.

Feedback: Is always nice.

Rating: NC-17 with warnings for non-consensual sex, torture, other kinds of sex, slash and just general angst.

Author's Note: Many many thanks to Laure for betaing Chapter 1 for me. Any mistakes are mine, but the story is much better for her criticism.

"Out of My Mind"

Buffy stalked into Spike's crypt. "I'm done." She took a stake from her back pocket and walked toward a surprised looking Spike. "Spike, you're a killer. And I should'a done this *years* ago."

Spike looked her in the eye. "You know what? Do it. Bloody just do it."

Buffy looked at him in surprise. "What?"

Spike glared at her. "End...my...torment. Seeing you, every day, everywhere I go, every time I turn around. Take me...out of a world...that has you in it!" He yanked off his shirt and threw it aside. "Just kill me!"

Buffy stared at him, then raised her stake and lunged. Spike winced, but she stopped at the last minute. They stared into each other's eyes. Suddenly Spike grabbed Buffy by the upper arms and kissed her passionately. She returned the kiss. It went on for a moment and then Buffy pulled back with a little noise of dismay, bringing her hand to her mouth. She stared at Spike and he stared back, both panting. The stake was gone from her hand.

Slowly Buffy dropped her hand from her mouth and walked back to Spike, putting both her hands to the back of his head and pulling him toward her. They kissed again, very passionately. Spike brought his hands up to clutch her back, kissing her cheek and the side of her neck.

Buffy panted, "Spike...I want you."

Spike moaned into her neck, "Buffy, I love you," then pulled back. "God, I love you so much."

Spike sat up in bed with a gasp with Harmony sleeping next to him. He looked horrified, while Harmony continued to sleep.

Spike groaned, "Oh, god, no. Please, no."

***

Spike was strolling along, trying to get his too-real dream out of his mind so he could properly enjoy the early twilight and the fifth of Jack Daniels in his hand when he smelled familiar blood. Peering into the alley behind Rudy's Bar, he saw a naked and badly beaten figure crawling slowly toward the street. He stood, interest momentarily piqued, while he tried to place the scent. This held possibilities. Once it died, he could drink before the blood cooled, though it looked as if a lot of it was already lost. As the pathetic figure neared the light, he realized with shock that it was Buffy. She looked like death. One eye was beaten completely shut, caked with blood, swollen and black. The other wasn't much better, though it was open, at least. Her naked body was covered from head to toe in vicious bruises, many seeping blood and from the telltale rasp of her labored breathing, at least half her ribs were broken. He flinched in disgust at the myriad scents about her body - sickness and blood combined with cum, booze and drugs in a sickening haze. She didn't seem to know he was there, continuing her mindless progress, crawling forward one halting foot at a time.

"Slayer?! What the hell happened to you?" He knew it was a stupid question - clearly she'd been raped. He couldn't reconcile this broken girl and the earthy, flirtatious, female he'd run into yesterday.

Buffy froze, her already thready heartbeat quickening as she turned her head to look at him out of her good eye. "Spike," she rasped through a throat that had clearly taken its own abuse, "I bet this is a dream come true. Enjoying yourself?"

Spike stood transfixed, trying to process the sight of his now-helpless nemesis. He should feel victorious, he knew, at the very least, amused. This was, if not precisely what he'd wanted to do to her, close enough that he should feel something other than Satan's balls was that pity? No, hell no, he didn't want to help her, he thought, as he tossed his JD and cigarette to one side with a crash and somewhat spectacular burst of flame and whipped off his duster. He crouched to lay it softly over her battered form. He lifted her gently into his arms and she groaned in fresh agony as her ribs grated audibly. "Shh, Slayer, it's all right. I'm just takin' you to hospital," he whispered and started walking the 4 blocks to the hospital. "Slayer, who the hell did this to you? You weren't fighting demons last night." The combined smells off of her were making him sick; his skull pounded with pain, the chip humming to life as his demon tried to surface and finish the job that others had nearly completed. In between surges of migraine, his bloodlust warred with his conflicted heart, and he flickered back and forth in and out of game face until he got himself under control.

Buffy snorted a laugh, which turned into a blood-filled cough. The pain in her ribs flared with each gasping breath. "No, Spike, demons didn't do this, men did," she wheezed. "With a little help from my sister slayer."

Light dawned on Spike. "Faith! That was her I saw last night, not you, wasn't it? Her in your body?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

"Oh, God, did she, did I did we?" Buffy coughed to a stop, unable to finish. She looked away from him with her one good eye then closed it wearily as blood dripped from one corner of her bruised mouth to run down her chin.

"Don't worry Slayer, apparently I'm the only man she didn't fuck last night. From the smell of you anyway. When did you get," he felt her flinch in his arms and realized he'd struck a nerve. "Oh, shit, she switched back before they were done, didn't she?" Buffy met his eyes with her one good one for a moment, pain and shame flashing across her battered face, before she looked away, too humiliated to say anything.

"Buffy, it wasn't your fault, it's not as if you chose this," Spike listened to himself comforting her in disbelief, not comprehending why he was even doing it, except that seeing her pain and shame did something to him. He didn't want her like this, not brought down by cattle, for fuck's sake. He wanted to be the demon she bowed before, not the one picking up the pieces. *Gods, I really am love's bitch,* he thought to himself disgustedly as he held her close.

"She must have taken drugs along with the alcohol," Buffy whispered. "Even after the shock of the switch was gone, I still couldn't focus to fight everything was fuzzy and I felt sick and they wouldn't stop they wouldn't they just kept going and going and it hurt so much and I couldn't get away and" her hoarse voice rose in hysterical sobs as she shook in Spike's arms. Tears leaked from her abused eyes, running down her filthy face and mixing with the blood and cum dried there.

Spike was saved from having to respond to the increasingly upset girl by his arrival at the hospital. He carried her into the ER, yelling, "Oi! Get me a doc over here, now! Found this chit in an alley, she needs help now!"

A matronly nurse bustled them into an alcove and shooed Spike away as she covered Buffy with a warm blanket. A moment later she handed him his duster and pulled him aside. "Where did you find that poor girl. Are you a friend of hers? She's been terribly hurt."

"A friend, um ah, I guess yah, I am," Spike finally blurted out. He wouldn't feel this concerned about her if he wasn't something, right? And all her scoobs were gone for the summer - he vaguely remembered - he'd been gloating about it earlier in the week, planning to hit her while her defenses were down. "I found her in the alley behind Rudy's Bar."

The nurse nodded, "I'm amazed she's alive, they're usually dead when they dump them there. Well, she's going to have to go through the rape kit, which will be a while. Is there someone else you can contact for her?"

Spike shook his white-blonde head. "No one but me. Can I stay?" he asked uncertainly.

"That would be good," the nurse said. "She needs all the support she can get right now, poor little thing. I'll call you when you can come in and see her."

Two hours later, Spike was ushered into a semi-private room off of the ER's main floor. Buffy, cleaned and bandaged up, looked considerably better than she had earlier, but still worse for the wear. Clearly her Slayer's healing was kicking in. Both eyes opened now, though one was still blood red. She looked up at his entrance. "Spike" she paused. "I just wanted to say thank you. You could have left me there to die. You could have handed me off to another demon to finish. I don't really know why you didn't. But, thanks anyway." She looked down at her bandaged hands, then up at him. "You were there right when I needed you. You're always there. I don't understand it. But I'm grateful."

"Don't want your gratitude, Slayer," he mumbled, glancing down from her soft eyes. "Wouldn't have been cricket to kick you while you were down. Least not tonight. Like you better all feisty and bitchy anyway," he grinned wickedly at her for a moment.

"Spike, I need another favor. I'll really owe you for this, but I've got to get to LA. Tonight. Faith is there it's where I went in her body. I have no idea what she's going to do, but I'm sure she'll try to kill Angel. She hates him almost as much as me. I can't reach him on the phone I'm really worried. Will you take me please?" She looked earnestly up at him and he felt his world tilt on its axis.

"Slayer. Buffy, have you taken a good look at yourself? You're not going to offer her any kind of a fight in this shape. Hell, they probably won't even let you leave in this condition. What good can you do the great pouf like this?" He wasn't jealous of the obvious love shining from her eyes. He wasn't! Was he?

"I have to try, Spike. I have to stop her. She's my responsibility. And even though he left me, he's still" her voice trailed off as she looked down for a moment.

"He's still your mate, Slayer. Spike muttered. "He marked you, you'll be his mate till you die. I can sense him in your blood, even now." Buffy looked up at him in shock, then down again, disturbed that something she still didn't understand was so obvious to him.

"Not anymore. He doesn't want me. Anyway, it doesn't matter what you call it, Spike, I have to help him if I can. Will you drive me?"

"Yah, Slayer. I'll go get the bloody DeSoto. And some clothes from your room. figger out how you're gonna get the hell out of here." Spike stomped out of the hospital, lighting up a fag as soon as he cleared the doors and wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into now.

***

"Sanctuary"

Angel caught the quarrel Faith shot at his back. Faith smirked at him, "This is going to be fun!"

*

Faith collapsed in Angel's arms. "I'm bad. I'm bad! I'm evil! Please just do it. Just kill me. Just kill me."

*

A wet and slightly beaten up Faith and Angel rode down the elevator to his apartment.

Angel turned to her. "Faith. Come on. He led her over to his bed and Faith sat down, arms wrapped around herself. "It's okay. Rest here." He wrapped a towel around her shoulders. Faith slowly laid down and Angel covered her with a blanket. "You rest now." He picked up Faith's backpack and put it on a chair next to the bed. "I'll put your stuff here. I'll be close." He turned and started to leave.

Faith looked at him, "Angel."

Angel turned back, "Yeah?"

It was impossible for Faith to say what she needed to. "Nothing," she said.

Angel left.

**

Angel came down with the box of doughnuts to see that his bed was empty and made. He looked around, calling, "Faith?" before he saw her leaning against the wall leading into the kitchen. "I have doughnuts."

When she didn't react he put the box down on a chair and slowly walked closer. "I understand what you're going through, and I want to help...but there are a few things you have to do. First, I need you to give me that knife." He held out his hand.

Faith looked down at her hand. She slowly lifted the big butcher knife she was holding, hesitated for a moment, then handed it to Angel handle first.

Angel looked at her in concern. "You should be resting."

Faith glared at him. "I've been asleep for eight months. You r" Sh" She sat on his bed. Buffy's voice echoed in her head, "Faith no!" She saw herself staking Finch, saw his blood-covered hands, and then flashed on Buffy again, saying, "You killed a man." She heard him respond, "I don't care." She got up and packed her backpack.

Angel walked in. "Faith."

Faith just looked at him then went back to packing.

Angel gazed at her, "You're in no condition to leave here. You walk out that door now and you'll be running for the rest of your life. And my bet is it'll be a pretty short run."

Faith walked past him. "You know what? It doesn't matter."

Angel stepped between her and the door. "It does matter. It matters to me."

Faith glared at him. "Why are you doing this? Why are you being nice to me? Just stop it. You gonna step aside or do we throw down? I mean, am I your prisoner here?"

Angel said, "No. You're not my prisoner."

Faith glanced down. "So I'm free."

"I don't know about that," Angel said, sliding the door behind him open, "but the door is open."

Faith walked past him.

Angel said to her, "Where are you gonna go? Back out in that darkness?" Faith hesitated then kept walking. "I once told you that you didn't have to go out in that darkness." Faith slowly stopped with her back to Angel "Remember? That it was your choice. Well, you chose. You thought that you could just touch it." He walked slowly closer to her. "That you'd be okay. 5 by 5, right, Faith? But it swallowed you whole. ell ell me," he stood behind her, "how did you like it?"

Faith turned and slugged him, hard. He didn't retaliate, just slowly turned back to look at her. Faith stared for a moment then looked anywhere but at him. "Help me?" she said hesitantly.

Angel replied, "Yeah."

*

Faith was leaning on the microwave in Angel's kitchen. The box of doughnuts was sitting on top of it, still closed. Angel came in.

Faith looked at him, "So, how does this - work?"

Angel stood there. "There is no real simple answer to that. I won't lie to you and tell you that it'll be easy, because it won't be. Just because you've decided to change doesn't mean that the world is ready for you to. The truth is, no matter how much you suffer, no matter how many good deeds you do to try to make up for the past, you may never balance out the cosmic scale. The only thing I can promise you is that you'll probably be haunted, and may be for the rest of your life."

Faith gestured to the microwave, "So how does *this* work?"

Angel blinked a couple times, then walked over to program it. "Uh power level, time, start Sure that popcorn is gonna be enough for you?"

"Yeah. I can live off the stuff. Tell Cordelia I'll pay her back." She said.

"Actually I think it belonged to Wesley," said Angel.

Faith grimaced, "Oh, maybe we just don't mention it then."

Angel stopped. "Maybe we do."

Faith blanched. "Are you saying I got to apologize?"

Angel asked, "Think you can?"

"I don't know. How do you say 'Gee, I'm really sorry tortured you nearly to death?'" she was trying for flip, but it fell a bit flat.

Angel said harshly, "Well, first off I think I'd leave off the 'Gee.' And secondly I think you have to ask yourself, are you?"

Faith: "What?"

Angel: "Sorry."

Faith just looked at him. "And what if I *can't* say it? There are things you can't just take back, no matter how sorry you *are,* right?"

Angel agreed, "Yeah, there are. I've got some experience in that area."

Faith nodded at him, "Right. And you've been doing this for a hundred years! I'm not gonna make it through the next ten minutes."

"So make it through the next five, the next minute," said Angel encouragingly.

Faith said, "I don't think I can."

Angel argued, "Yes, you can."

Faith walked away. "God, it hurts. I hate that it hurts like this."

Angel followed her. "Oh well, it's supposed to hurt. All that pain, all that suffering you caused is coming back on you. Feel it! Deal with it! Then maybe you've got a shot at being free."

Faith let out something between a laugh and a sob. "I've got to be the first Slayer in history sponsored by a vampire."

Angel smiled ruefully, "Yeah, well, I've got some experience in that area,."
&."

Faith stopped suddenly. "Oh god. B! How am I ever going to make things right with her?"

Angel said, "Faith, this isn't about Buffy."

"All my life there was only one person that tried to be my friend, went out of her way when I had no right or reason to expect her to. And I screwed her. Not to mention her boyfriend, only, him literally, and I left her body there in the bar she cursed.

Angel said, "Faith, you and I never actually..."

Faith interrupted, "No, not you. The new one." Angel stared for a moment then looked down. "Oh, my god. Angel, I'm so sorry I..."

Angel choked out, "No, there. You *can* say it. That's good." He turned away. "Good."

Faith was eating popcorn while flicking through the channels on Angel's TV. Something scampered by behind her, unnoticed. A wet and steaming Angel stuck his head out of the bathroom. "Is everything okay in there?"

Faith sniped at him, "It wasn't much and go for the four minutes you left me alone, but somehow I got through it."

"Listen to me Faith," said Angel. "You're safe here. You hear me? You're safe." The thing hanging on the ceiling picked that moment to drop down on top of them. It threw Angel away from Faith, then tossed her onto the sofa, overturning it, when Angel came back at it. The thing tossed him toward Faith and he pushed her into the kitchen to get her out of harm's way then took a hold of an overhead beam and swung both feet into thing's face. In the kitchen, Faith grabbed the big butcher knife and hurried back to the fight. Angel went sliding past the opening to the kitchen. The thing was charging him as Faith came up behind it and stabbed it with the butcher knife.

A few blows later the thing lay dying on the floor. Faith was staring at the bloody knife in her hand as Angel picked himself up. "No." She dropped the knife and stared at her hands, gasping and shaking her head.

Angel crooned quietly, "Hey. Hey. Hey. Shh. Hey." He lead her over to the bed "Sit down. Shh. It's, it's okay." Faith wrapped her arms around Angel's neck, careful not to touch him with her bloody hands. "Hey. It's gonna be okay. Okay?" Angel held her gently. "Shh. Alright?"

He looked up as Buffy came haltingly down the stairs. "It's Buffy. Buffy," he looked at her while he slowly stood, backed away from Faith, and buttoned his shirt. I didn't know you." He stopped, staring at her bruised face and slow walk. He inhaled, and his eyes glowed gold for a moment, before he turned his back on Buffy and faced Faith once again.

Buffy limped further into the room: "What..." She looked from him to Faith still sitting on the day bed staring at her bloody hands, then back to Angel. "How... What are you doing?"

"She we were attacked," Angel said.

Buffy choked, "We? You and..."

Angel filled in, "Faith."

Buffy paused, "You and Faith."

Angel looked guilty, "Oh, it's not what you think."

Buffy looked at him, "You actually think that I can form a thought right now? I thought that, that she tried to kill you."

Angel said quietly, "That's true."

Buffy grated, "So you decided to punish her with a severe cuddling."

Angel asked, "Is that why you're here? To punish her?"

Buffy stared at him, "I was worried about you."

Faith looked up, "Buffy. Oh, god."

Buffy walked haltingly closer to Faith, trying not to limp. Faith cringed away from her. "You didn't think I was going to find you, did you?" Buffy asked.

Angel tried to calm the situation. "Buffy, let's talk."

Buffy spat, "Oh, I don't think talk is in order right now."

Angel said, "She needs help."

Buffy whipped around to face Angel, then hissed as her broken ribs protested with shooting pain. "Help?" she choked out, "Do you have any idea what she did to me?"

"Yes," he said, thinking of the "boyfriend" and the others he could scent on her and trying to keep his demon in check.

Buffy asked desperately, "Do you care?"

Angel said solemnly, "She wants to change. She has a chance to..."

Buffy was so angry she could barely speak. "No. No chance. Jail."

Faith slowly got up. Angel said, "You think that'll help?"

Faith: "Buffy..." Buffy whipped around to face her, wincing at the pain in her battered rips. "I'm sor..."

Buffy gritted, "Apologize to me and I will beat you to death." Buffy clutched her side, trying not to let on how badly she still hurt.

Faith said quietly, "Go ahead."

Angel stepped in front of Faith. "This is not gonna happen."

Buffy looked at Angel, "You're gonna stop me? Because you're gonna have to."

Faith shook her head, "Don't do this."

Angel said, "Faith, go upstairs, now."

Buffy couldn't believe this was happening. "You think I'm gonna let her out of my sight?"

Angel said tersely, "Buffy, just back off."

Buffy glared at him, "There is no way I'm letting her out of my sight."

Angel turned, "Faith, go!"

Faith went toward the stairs and Buffy moved to stop her. "Don't you move a..."

Angel caught her arm and she turned to punch him full in the face. It lacked her usual oomph. She hauled back to hit him again, but Angel blocked her fist and hit her across the face in return. Angel stepped back as Buffy stared at him with a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Buffy said disbelievingly, "You hit me."

Angel spoke quietly, "Not to go all schoolyard on you, but you hit me first. In case you've forgotten, you're a little bit stronger than I am."

Buffy clutched her bruised jaw. "You did it for *her.* She's playing you. She tried to kill you!"

Angel paused. "That was just - that was just a cry for help."

Buffy laughed bitterly, "A cry for help is when you say 'help' in a loud voice."

Angel tried to reason with her. "I know Faith did some bad things to you."

Buffy was so angry she could spit. "You can't possibly know."

"And you can't possibly know what she's going through," Angel muttered.

Buffy glared at him from her bruised eyes, "And of course, you do? I'm sorry. I can't be in your club. I never murdered anybody."

Faith looked at her, "Angel said there was no way you were gonna give me a chance."

Buffy screamed at her, "I gave you every chance! I tried so hard to help you, and you spat on me. My life was just something for you to play with. Angel Riley my body anything that you could take from me you took. I've lost battles before but nobody else has -ever- made me a victim."

"And you can't stand that. You're all about control." Faith yelled. "You have no idea what it's like on the other side! Where nothing's in control, nothing makes sense! There is just pain and hate and nothing you do means anything. You can't even" She left.

Buffy yelled "Shut up!" at Faith's retreating back.

Angel looked at her earnestly, "I needed more time with Faith. I'm not sure."

Buffy was dumbstruck. "You needed. Do you have any idea what it was like for me to see you with her?"

Angel said angrily, "Buffy, this wasn't about you! This was about saving somebody's soul. That's what I do here, and you're not a part of it. We stay away from each other."

Buffy said, "I came here because you were in danger."

Angel growled at her, "I'm in danger every day. You came because of Faith. You were looking for vengeance."

Buffy glared at him. "She's my responsibility."

Angel: "Not in my city. Buffy, Faith told me everything. She knows she's done bad things, but she's really sorry now and I feel that we should all forgive her. None of us are innocent, we've all made bad decisions here."

Buffy stared at Angel in disbelief. "What? You think huh?"

Angel looked sternly at Buffy, "I know she hurt you, but you hurt her too. Let's not act like spoiled children here, she deserves a chance to redeem herself."

"She got that when she woke from her coma, Angel. I can't believe you're taking her side against me."

Angel glared at her in a fury. "Buffy, you come in here bloody and reeking of drugs and booze and twenty different men and expect me to act rationally? Their scent is all over you. Gods, I'm sick even smelling it. What, was Riley not enough for you?" He stalked over to her, looked her up and down with a sneering glance and inhaled, running his nose an inch from her hair as he moved down to her neck before scenting her breasts through her shirt, as well. "God! I smell Spike on you too," he growled, enraged. "Vamps have more stamina, is that it? He'll need it to keep up with a slayer," he sneered. "I left you to find life in the sunlight and Spike is what you've sunk to?" His game face slid on as he spoke and the demon glared at her through her soulmate's now-golden eyes, furious at the smell of other males on his mate. "I can't believe that you have the nerve to stand in front of me like this," he growled. "It's disgusting. This makes me wantgod, just get out, get out of my city, go back to Sunnydale and stay there, ok? I can take care of Faith."

Buffy's face blanched white as she stepped back from him in shock. He was disgusted with her? He thought she was dirty?

Angel growled, "It's nice you moved on. I can't. You found something new. I'm not allowed to, remember? I see you again it cuts me up inside and the person I share that with is me! You don't know me anymore and I certainly don't know you. The Buffy I knew would never have done this. So don't come down here with your great new life and *expect* me to do things your way. Go home!"

She looked into his angry golden eyes and saw the disgust and pain in them. God, he was right, the quick wash at the hospital wasn't enough. They were still all over her and she had to get away and hide. Her skin crawled with the need to get their touch, their scent, their cum off of her. Now. Shaking with self-loathing, Buffy looked at Angel for a moment then limped to pick up her jacket, while he walked over to the wall and braced his hands against it.

"Faith wins again," she whispered.

Angel spoke in a cold voice without looking at her: "Go."

She backed away and stumbled up the stairs from his apartment, limping away as fast as she could. After a moment, Angel slammed his hands against the wall and sighed.

Tears of pain and shame poured from Buffy's eyes and sobs racked her tiny frame. She stumbled away from the surprised and curious eyes of Wesley and Cordelia, who were nursing bruises of their own from Faith.

Crying hoarsely, Buffy threw herself into Spike's DeSoto, begging, "Please, Spike, don't say a word, just take me home now." Curling into a small painful ball, she sobbed the entire way back to Sunnydale as her heart broke. Spike was blessedly silent, concentrating on the road to distract himself from the myriad scents on the Slayer. She was his enemy, damn it, he wouldn't feel sorry for her. He kept telling himself that, over and over until they reached Sunnydale. He pulled into her driveway and she thrust a handful of money at him. "Thank you for the ride," she whispered hoarsely, as she limped from the car into the early morning darkness.

Inwardly kicking himself, Spike dropped the bills to the seat and got out of the car, following her slow progress to the door. "Slayer," he paused as she looked at him wearily from her bruised and battered face"Buffy, do you need help?"

She cringed from his concern. "I'm that pathetic, huh, Spike. Even you can't kick me when I'm this down is that what you said? Don't worry about me. I'll heal this in a couple of days once the drugs and booze are completely gone from my system." She unlocked the door and walked into the house as he hovered in the doorway.

Spike turned to leave, thinking, "Bloody idiot, how stupid are you anyway, like she wants your bloomin' help," when suddenly he hear Buffy scream, "Mom? Mom? Mommy!!" He sprinted back into the house, momentarily surprised that she hadn't spelled him out again, and raced into the living room where Buffy was clutching Joyce's hand and screaming. He could tell in seconds that Joyce was gone. 126 years of life and unlife left him with great expertise in death. Joyce was as cool to the touch as he himself, clearly she'd been dead for a while.

Buffy was frantically attempting to perform CPR on her mother as Spike called 911, but he could tell it wouldn't work. As the sirens wailed their way closer, he wondered what would happen to the Slayer now.

***

Angel was happy. He sat for a moment, savoring the unexpected feeling. Things had been going so well. Wesley had stayed on with them and used his connections to beg, borrow and finally bribe an ancient manuscript from a local dealer It held a spell to finally anchor Angel's soul. After a blood fast for an entire uncomfortable fortnight, Angel had drawn the circle, stepped naked into the pentagram, and said the spell on Beltane eve. It wasn't complete yet, he still had to observe the other solstices, but it was a start to possibilities he'd been unable to even contemplate after Buffy's disastrous 17th birthday.

There was no one he wanted but Buffy anyway, and she had noticeably moved on. Even if she wanted him back, he knew he couldn't fit into her new world of university classes and dating. If that was what they called it these days. He still had trouble believing that the passionate but chaste virgin he'd loved so tenderly was fucking that many different men. Perhaps it wasn't her fault, maybe she'd had too much to drink. He knew how pent up she was after slaying. He'd sent a note and some flowers to her house, but hadn't heard anything back. She definitely needed to straighten out her life. He hoped that some of his comments to her had made her stop and consider what the heck she was doing. If things just stayed quiet here for another week or so, maybe he could go to Sunnydale and talk to her.

"You stupid hells-forsaken paddy! Were you tryin' ta make another Dru or do you just have this effect on all women? Gods, you make me fuckin' sick, you bastard"

Angel looked up in surprise at the bleached blond whirlwind storming into his dark office. His last few weeks since doing the spell had been remarkably easy. Simple demons to dispatch; occasional brooding; visiting Faith in prison. She was adjusting fairly well, all things considered, and he'd been commending himself on a job well started, if not done. What the hell was Spike doing in LA, anyway, and what on God's green earth was he yammering on about?

"if you think I'm stickin' around to watch her self-destruct, you got another bloomin' thing comin'. I'm evil!!! I'm not pickin' up the pieces again for you, you bloody pouf. I'm out a this bollixed up excuse for a country soon as I come to rights, ya hear me?!"

Spike had certainly worked himself up into a lather, but who was he talking about, anyway? It sounded like Dru, but then again, Angel thought he'd already mentioned his other childe.

"Spike, hold on, what are you going on about anyway? Why are you here? What pieces?" Angel was genuinely confused.

Spike stopped abruptly, mid-tirade. "What? D'ya mean you have no bloomin' notion? You're dumber than I thought, you pillock! The Slayer! That's who I'm talkin' about. You have no idea? What the hell do you think's been goin' on anyway?"

"Spike, I have no idea what you're talking about. I haven't seen Buffy for almost two months. I know we didn't part on good terms, but why would you think I"

"You stupid bastard. You destroyed her. She got up out of hospital, against her doc's orders, made me drive her all the way here 'cause she was so worried about you and what that bitch might do to you. I don't know what the hell you said to her, but whatever it was, she believed you. She didn't say a bloody word to me the whole way back to Sunnyhell. Just sat there and cried, bruised and bloody and hurtin'. Last time I saw her, at the funeral, she told me she didn't deserve me takin' care of her. ME! She won't see me, and her stupid wank of a Watcher is back in merry old England for the summer. Her friends scarpered off to parts unknown for holiday and with her mum gone, she's all alone. And she won't take my blinkin' help." Spike's tirade wound down like a listing top as Angel stood there, dumbstruck.

"Joyce is"

"Dead. Yah. And Buffy can't even seem to care. She just slays. I doubt she's eaten more than a bite in weeks. She's, I dunno, broken or something. And it's to do with what Faith did to her. And what you did to her after."

"Spike, I didn't do anything to her. I mean, I hit her once, yes, but nothing she couldn't handle. She's stronger than me. I know she and Faith fought and Buffy looked pretty beat up, but I told her that Faith deserved a second chance and that maybe we were to blame for some of what happened" Angeloiceoice dropped off at the expression on Spike's face. He didn't think he'd ever seen his childe more enraged, and that was saying a hell of a lot considering all the situations they'd been in together on the same or opposite sides.

"You WHAT? You fuckin' bastard. How could you?!" Spike lunged for Angel's throat, game face on and hands reaching to tear into his sire's throat. Angel jumped backward in shock, backhanding Spike away with long-practiced ease.

"What the hell is your problem, Boy?" he roared, thrust momentarily back in Sire-mind and incensed that his childe would dare go for his throat.

Spike slugged him across the face, and then shot a right to his chest before Angel grabbed him. "They barely fought. That's not how Buffy got hurt. Buffy told me Faith stole her body and fucked half a fraternity with it, not to mention that wanker Riley. Then she went to Rudy's and taunted the entire friggin' bar into raping the Slayer on a god-forsaken pool table while she switched back into her own body and came here for you, you stupid poof. And that's what you told Buffy didn't matter when she came here to save you?"

"You drank her, you marked her, you left her, you betrayed her, you hit her and then you sent her away so's you could play nursemaid to the one who poisoned you in the first place. You make me friggin' sick." Spike was crying now, tears of rage and pain, as he sagged in front of Angel. "She's dropped out of university. Can't show her face there now with all the bastards who've had her. Bank took the house, cause she's got no money, she can't stay at the dorm now that she's dropped out. She's livin' in some hole and only comin' out at night to slay with no one to help her" he trailed off and growled his anger at his obtuse sire.

"Raped? But I didn't know. She didn't tell me" Angel trailed off remembering what else he'd said to Buffy that day.

"What, has the soul bollixed up your sense of smell as well as your brain, Sire? Couldn't you smell 'em all on her? It was near to makin' me hurl in the car on the way here and back. But she said there wasn't time to wait 'cause she was all a scared since she couldn't ring you on the phone."

Angel blanched. "I didn't know. I smelled the drugs and booze on her. I, Ithought she'd moved on, found someone, something else to."

"What? She was a friggin' virgin when you had her. Did'ja think she'd just gone out for a friendly gang-bang on her own?!" Spike's tone was incredulous as he looked into his Sire's eyes. "You did! You bloody idjit. She wouldn't even let that corn-fed Iowa boyfriend of hers do more than kiss her and you thought she'd gone out an screwed three dozen men. Satan's balls, you make me sick. You bloody bastard."

"God. I told her she disgusted me. I said" Angel trailed off, remembering the hateful things he'd spouted at his soul-mate. "I have to see her, I have to help her." He pushed Spike out of his way and strode to the safe. "Damn. I've got to finish up a few things here before I can leave for a long while." Opening the safe and removing a stack of money, he thrust it at Spike and closed and locked the safe. "Take this and help her with it, Childe." He flipped through the files on his desk, muttering to himself. "That one's done, this'll wait, this is done. I have to talk to Cordy and Wes before I leave, but he should be able to take over for me. He's wanted an excuse to stay anyway. You go back tonight and I'll come tomorrow as soon as it's dark. I can stay at the mansion. Do you know where she's living?"

"Hank's motel. The same one Faith lived in," Spike growled in a surly voice, unsure now whether fetching his sire had been a good idea. Hells, it couldn't be worse, he didn't give the Slayer more than a couple weeks way way she'd been going. He turned to leave.

"Spike, wait I may need your help with her. Will you help me? Please?" Angel's chocolate-brown gaze focused on his childe. "I know I don't deserve it, but she may need us both."

Spike scowled at the floor for a moment. Helping meant admitting that his feelings for the Sl wer were not all an enemy's should be. But hell, he was love's bitch and he'd already admitted it. "All right, you great poof, but don't think you won't owe me big time for this. I want this bloody chip out of my head, and you're payin' for it."

"I accept," his sire said solemnly, looking at his childe with grateful eyes. "Now go take care of her. I'll follow you in a day."

***

Buffy woke at dusk. It had been over a month since her mother's death. Buffy deliberately didn't think about what else had happened before that. If she hadn't gone to LA, she could have been in the house wJoycJoyce when the aneurysm hit. She could have saved her somehow. The doctor's assertions to the contrary didn't faze her. Buffy knew that she had failed. Despite her injuries, she should have been there for her mother.

Failed as a daughter, failed as a student, totally failed as a lover according to Angelus. It didn't matter anymore. It was stupid of her to think she could have those things, anyway. She was the Slayer. She wasn't going to fail this time. She would kill every vampire in Sunnydale, or die trying.

She didn't go out in the day anymore unless she was roasting a nest. There was no point to it. She rose at dusk, ate a quick meal of ramen noodles or canned ravioli, and went out to slay. Living in the seedy motel had its advantages. It was cheap. Someone else changed the sheets and cleaned up once a week. And no one bothered her. She didn't speak to anyone, even the cashier at the convenience store when she bought her weekly groceries. It was easier that way. No one to talk to anyway.

Spike's rough attempts at comfort after her mom's death and funeral had completely thrown Buffy. She didn't, couldn't understand the bond she felt with him. She knew that she didn't deserve his help and couldn't figure out why he'd offered it anyway. His pity made her uncomfortable and he'd brought her close to breaking down in his arms more than once. She couldn't do that. She had to be strong to Slay. Finally, she'd told him to leave her alone, feeling guilty for being so mean, but relieved that now she could sink back into the fog which increasingly surrounded her.

She pulled on some baggy sweats, a t-shirt and a flannel shirt and pulled her lank hair back into a ponytail. She was cold all the time, and when she bothered to look in the mirror, she knew why. She was past thin and well into gaunt now. Her cheekbones stood out more than Spike's these days, and her breasts had all but disappeared. That was ok. Not looking like a girl meant no one would be interested in her. She refused to think about why that was important. Nothing mattered except slaying. Nothing happened except slaying. She was the Slayer. That was all. She wasn't a girl who could be hurt or used or broken. If she kept thinking that, surely it would be true, right?

When the bank had taken the house, she'd had to sell pretty much everything inside. Her flirty little dresses and high heels were the first to go to the second hand shop. She'd barely gotten anything for them a piece, but the combined total from the sale was enough to feed her for two weeks now. She kept her jeans and bought more sweats and flannels to camouflage her diminutive frame. The more layers between her and the world, the better.

Buffy grabbed her bag and headed out for patrol. The vamps had been really quiet lately, and she'd taken to patrolling the sewers as well as the cemeteries, to hunt out new nests. She didn't consider the danger in hunting the sewers alone at night; after all, it was her job to keep the hellmouth safe. Buffy found three rather weak vamps in a small nest in one unused maintenance tunnel and staked them quickly. She climbed a ladder and moved the manhole aside to jump out. Sunnyrest was nearby and she'd seen a new grave waiting to be filled last night, so she wanted to stake that out and see if anyone rose to play.

She settled herself comfortably against a nearby headstone after giving the rest of the cemetery a once-over. Buffy didn't have to wait long before the tell-tale stirring began and a fledgling appeared. She staked him and moved on. No banter necessary these days. She never spoke. She did her job and kept moving. She didn't know that her eyes were more dead than her enemies'.

*

Wearily, Buffy trudged back to the apartment as the first rays of dawn stretched over the horizon. She was chilled to the bone in the early morning damp and wanted nothing but a hot shower and some soup. She entered the dingy room and shucked off her filthy clothes, dropping them into the cheap plastic basket sitting by the single grimy window that she kept covered with ancient gray curtains. The basket was filling again. Almost time for another trip to the laundromat. Buffy sighed as she entered the bathroom. Climbing into the off-white tub, she turned on the faucet and smiled in pleasure at the hot water sheeting over her face. She washed with dispatch, knowing the exact duration allowed before the hot water ran out. Stepping out of the tub, she dried herself with one of her mother's purple towels, one of the few possessions she hadn't sold when she lost the house.

The money from her mother's life insurance had finally arrived, so she'd gone ahead and put it into mutual funds. She lived frugally off the money she got from selling the car and all the furnishings. Her mother's taste in art had certainly helped. Pieces that Joyce had purchased years ago for little money had been worth considerably more when sold in the gallery. Buffy knew that Joyce would have been sad to sell them just one more way she had failed her mother.

Buffy pulled on her flannel pajamas and trudged to the kitchen, opening a can of soup and pouring it into a small pan. She heated it over the hot plate and took a carton of orange juice from the small refrigerator. Pouring some into a glass, she put the carton back and sat at the tiny table to wait for the soup to heat. Grabbing the pan with a potholder, she took a spoon and slurped the soup up directly from the pan, feeling Joyce in the back of her head telling her to get a bowl and eat like a young lady instead of an animal for a change. "Less to clean up this way, Mom," she muttered to herself, "sorry." Rinsing the pan in the sink and scrubbing it halfheartedly with a sponge, Buffy upended it on the drying rack, offered the spoon the same brief wash and chugged the oj, rinsing and washing the glass as well.

She made her way back to the bathroom, brushed and flossed her teeth *gotta keep these in good shape, Summers, god knows when you can afford to see a dentist* and climbed wearily into bed. Another night over. Good. One day at a time. She drifted off into sleep, clutching Mr. Gordo to her like a lifeline and refusing to cry.

*Rough hands held her down as huge dicks pummeled her while their owners laughed. She was helpless against them and Angel and Riley stood by the side and watched as she was used over and over in every orifice. Finally she crawled over to them, covered in blood and moaning for help. They looked down at her with blank eyes and then turned away in disgust. "You're dirty, Buffy," Angel sneered at her as he glanced back in game face. "I can smell them on you." She reached for his hand and he pulled her up by her hair to spit his words into her face. "You make me sick, you're disgusting," he growled throwing her back to the floor. He left her alone, disappearing into smoke as he had at graduation.

She looked up imploringly at Riley. "Buffy, I'm sorry," he muttered, looking away again, clearly embarrassed at her lack of clothing. "But I just can't be in a relationship with someone who would sleep with half a fraternity of guys right after she left my bed. I thought I meant something to you, but now I see I was just a toy. I go to church every Sunday, I'm an upstanding member of the U.S. military, and as a psych TA, I have to tell you that I think you need counseling to deal with these issues. Have a good life." He walked away from her and she was left alone and aching in the dark.

Suddenly it was light and she was walking through the campus, naked. "Hey, Summers, great job at the party last weekend, I swear you can suck like a Hoover," called one boy in a Phi Beta t-shirt. A small group of guys surrounded her by the door to her dorm, slapping her ass and grabbing for her tits. "Yo, Buffy, you were fantastic last weekend, what are you, a Pro? How much for a repeat? Or are you still giving it away?" They laughed cruelly, and continued to mock her until she backed against the wall, flinching from their hateful comments and pawing hands.*

Buffy gasped and sat up, sweating and panting with fear. Dirty, she was dirty, no matter how she scrubbed it wouldn't come off. She darted to the shower and turned on the water as hot as it would go. Dumping her pajamas unceremoniously on the floor, she grabbed the scrub brush on the edge of the tub and lathered it up. She tore into her arms and legs with it, rubbing and rasping to get the dirt off, but it kept coming back. It was everywhere.

She scrubbed her vulva, hissing in pain as she tore the delicate skin. She didn't stop until long after the water had run cold and the bottom of the tub was covered with bloody foam from the brush. Rinsing the brush, she put it back on the side of the tub and mechanically rinsed the bottom of the tub out before shutting off the water and toweling off. She shook with cold and her skin oozed blood from her arms, legs, stomach and mound. Maybe now she was clean.

She looked into the mirror at the hair that had garnered her so much attention. Attention was bad. She grabbed a dull pair of scissors and hacked at her hair with them. When the bright blonde strands were laying in a pile on the floor and nothing remained of her hair but a few inches of sodden light brown curls, she stopped. She looked like a malnourished twelve year old. No one would notice her now. If no one could see her, maybe she could rest. She dropped the scissors next to the sink and trudged out of the tiny bathroom. Curling up under the covers, Buffy huddled in the center of the bed, crying in exhaustion and despair as she fell into fitful sleep once more.

***

to be continued