Roses for Lucifer

Disclaimer and credits: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 2

Buffy hid her face in her hands. This was a nightmare. She had to be dreaming! Why wouldn't she wake up?

But she had already attracted Ripper's attention. "Is there anything I can do for you? Some spell you need?"

Buffy was doubtful. "A black spell, I suppose."

He smirked. "What else?" He walked up to the armchair and put his hands on its armrests. "But we don't have to waste our time with magic," he added in a low, seductive tone, "Last time we met you were not interested, but you seem different, somehow. Don't those children here annoy you? I mean, Spike with his ridiculous hairstyle, with his childish games with the little vampire girl in the cellar, and our wonderful dark Angel, who believes every woman on this planet has waited just for him?"

Buffy was about to thrust him away with her Slayer's abilities when a threatening voice suddenly thundered through the library.

"Mind your speech, Ripper," the man yelled, "When will you learn not to interfere with people more powerful than you?"

Ripper grumbled some curses, then he withdrew.

Buffy stared at the door. On the threshold, there was so impressive a man she caught her breath. He was clothed all in black, a cape floating around his broad shoulders. The huge sword around his waist used to cutting off vampires' heads classified him as a warrior, and so did the muscles under the tight leather. His voice had the trained tone of a commander. He was self-assurance in person; his sex-appeal seemed to fill the whole room like a dark aura, putting an ordinary man as Ripper in his place, and enchanting any woman present. His eyes, shining and deep like the glossy surface of an endless sea, seemed to see right through Buffy. He was charismatic, fearful, and incredibly cool.

"Buffy. So you're back. Welcome home."

His voice was determined and calm. He pronounced his words with great care, and it was clear he was not American. He stretched out his hand to help Buffy up from the armchair.

She felt the warm touch of his hand in hers.

Then she met his eyes.

"Wesley?" she asked in disbelief. "You've... changed."

The Englishman disarmed her with his radiant smile. "I'm just a warrior. I suppose you want to see our leaders now."

This was uncanny. Not even time could have turned Wesley into one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.

*

Wesley led Buffy into the heart of the headquarters.

"This is the reception hall," he explained.

Buffy looked around. The hall was huge, and furnished with expensive antiques which had been chosen with taste.

The centerpiece of the hall was... no, this could not be a throne, impossible. It was so absurd. She must be dreaming. But unfortunately she knew for sure she was wide awake.

She approached the throne, which consisted of two richly decorated chairs. And more than ever since her arrival, she prayed she was dreaming. For a horrible moment, she thought Faith was a vampire. Until the other slayer descended the stairs of the throne and embraced her, so she could feel the warmth of her body. "Oh, Buffy, thank Hell you're back. We do need you."

Buffy felt a piercing gaze upon them and broke the embrace to face the throne. The temperature in the room seemed to rise by several degrees.

Time stood still as their eyes met.

It had been years, and he had not aged a day.

Then the beautiful illusion broke down. It had taken her less than the fraction of a second to tell he was not Angel. As he rose to his full height and stood before her, the devilish smile about his lips, she knew who he was.

Oh God, he's Angelus, she thought with a shiver.

Faith followed her gaze and grinned. "Don't believe him, he's just playing the untouchable demon king, in fact he's very sorry that he killed you at the spur of the moment."

The vampire descended to them. "My Slayer," he said, and if he had not been Angelus, she would have believed his words tender and intimate.

He bent to kiss her, and Buffy felt revulsion surge through her, but more than that, she also felt her body involuntarily responding. His kiss was as she remembered it, though she had so often tried to forget.

"We forgive each other?" he finally asked.

Willow thought it necessary to interfere. "Buffy has been strange since I brought her back, I think she's lost her memory. Must be a side effect to the spell."

"Really." Angelus' watchful attention seemed to be released somehow. "Could be useful. Hope you've also lost your tendency towards Good. You've always been attracted to light, admit it or not. Well, we all make mistakes. Yet you should have taken your calling more seriously."

Buffy began to form a suspicion. "Which Powers called me?" she asked, just to earn a sad look from Faith. "Poor thing. The same Powers that called me to my office, The Powers That Be Bad."

This was no joke. And no dream either. "Tell me more," Buffy asked.

"We slay vampires, and demons," Faith said, "Of course all except Angelus. He's different because of his soullessness."

"And vampires normally have souls?" Buffy asked.

"What a question! They are a race, inferior, but a race like humans," Willow explained, then bowed before Angelus. "Sorry, no offence."

"How about Spike?" Buffy inquired, "He lost his soul somehow?"

Willow giggled. "Hell, no! He's got a chip."

"So Faith and I slay vampires," Buffy resumed, "Except you, because you don't have a soul and are as... evil as we are?"

Angelus's gaze drifted away to a time and place far away. "The evil gypsy sorceress thought she was cursing me – I had rescued her daughter, whom she had thrown into the river to let her drown. She had no idea what a favor she did me. Other vampires live on animal blood, can you imagine how sick that is?"

"My Angel was good before the gypsies cursed him, who would have suspected that?" Faith announced proudly. "Fighting the good fight, how odd! Thank Hell he became sensible. My adorable demon king." She giggled. "Well, and later, ours."

Buffy felt her stomach churn as she imagined Angel making out with Faith. Yet her smile stayed on.

"Everything could have been fine," Angelus said, then his face darkened. "If there had not been the clause."

"Let me guess," Buffy said, "A moment of perfect misery?"

His face lit up. "You're beginning to remember."

Faith almost cried as she continued. "It was the worst time in my life. Whenever I tried to kill some demon, he rescued them! And he did not even look at me, I suffered so much. A repugnant saint walking around with my lover's face."

Angelus put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "They called me Angel," he said, casting his eyes down in embarrassment, "And that's what I was. I became again what I had never wanted to be again. Even now, I sometimes wake up screaming, because I dream I'm helping old women to cross the street, or I'm rescuing an innocent demon. The nightmares of this time will keep haunting me, however much I repent."

"Those were hard times for the purely evil," Faith added, "We were bound to lose, Angel was to bring about heaven on earth. And you, who should have been defending our cause, you with your good side lurking beneath the surface," Faith reproached Buffy, "You fell in LOVE with Angel."

"When Willow managed to restore the curse," Angelus closed, "I was so upset I killed you. As I said before, we all make mistakes. But you do understand I had no choice, don't you?"

Buffy understood. This was not the story as she knew it, and these people here were exactly the opposite of those she had met. She was trapped in a mirror universe. Well, the Willow of this reality seemed to mess up her spells just like her own. At her attempt to bring the Buffy of this universe back, she had blurred the lines between the parallel worlds and had torn her from hers. The e-mail had been the first indication. Everyone was the opposite of what they had been in her world: Angel was Angelus, Wesley had turned into Superman, Faith was an evil ice-queen [ok, not much of a change there], the Spike of this reality was a sadist... and a formerly evil creature such as the vampire Sunday was an innocent victim. While she herself was a warrior for the good with a fatal attraction towards darkness, her counterpart in the mirror universe had been a warrior of evil with some good tendencies, which had cost her life. And now Angelus and Faith were about to lose the fight and needed her to defeat the good – whoever those were in this reality.

Yet there was one detail: She knew what had happened, but nobody else did.

For the moment, she would have to play their game.

Buffy lowered her head. "I understand," she replied, "And I assure you, you can rely on me now."

Angelus looked around the h "L "Leave us," he ordered.

Wesley took Faith's hand. "Allow me to distract you a little," he said seductively.

Faith waved at Angelus. "See you later." Then she walked out of the great hall at the other man's side.

Again, the hierarchy among the evil astonished Buffy. "And you don't mind?" she asked.

Angelus frowned. "He's just the replacement - I don't see why I should. I wonder if everything went all right with Willow's spell, you've changed, it worries me a little."

She would give up. She would just leave it like that. She was thinking too much in the categories of the good. If she wanted to remain unsuspicious, she would have to allow her darker side to guide her on. Her heart was almost exploding in her chest. He was watchful. She must not make a mistake, or she would end up in the cell with Sunday, or worse.

What would an evil woman do? A woman who did not have to worry about dignity or reputation?

Buffy struggled to keep her hand from shaking as she ran her fingers over the ridges of his game face. "Just because I missed you," she whispered, purring like a cat, hardly recognizing her own voice.

"Then prove your loyalty," Angelus replied, not going there.

She gathered her hair on one of her shoulders, exposing the other side of her neck. If only he did not notice she was nearly dying. She was gambling high, if this fails...no, don't go there... but she knew him so well... and if he was just a little like the Scourge of Europe she had met, he had a weakness for gambling... With a bold voice, she posed the challenge: "You're soulless, so your Childe will be soulless, too. If you don't trust me, turn me."

She could not read his eyes and hoped desperately hers were as inexpressive.

"We'll see," Angelus finally said, "For the moment, I prefer to have you alive. As for the future, time will tell. I'd suggest you patrol with Faith later. Meanwhile, feel like home. My house is your house." With a devilish smile, he added: "This includes every room."

*

Buffy was in a strange state of mind. On the one hand, she was almost despairing, trapped and alone in a nightmarish mirror universe in which the people she used to know were monsters, and she could not even call her watcher – he was likely to be a black magician, if he existed here at all. On the other hand, pleasant shivers shook her whole body occasionally since her arrival, for she could feel Angel's presence, and she also felt Spike's. Against her will, her body responded to the looks they cast her, to the feel of their bodies against hers. Spike had been right. She was lonely. But she needed to focus now, more than ever.

Buffy decided to do everything to gain their trust and Faith's trust first, and then think about how she could get away.

Faith was waiting for her in the hall while Buffy was wondering anxiously what this patrol was going to look like. Well, they were going after vampires and demons, after all, so her participation could not be altogether wrong. With a slight feeling of panic, she thought of the poor creature Sunday down in the dungeon.

"Ready?" Faith asked with a smile.

"Ready," Buffy confirmed.

*

The area around the hottest clubs in L.A. had changed. If Buffy had expected to hear the familiar humming of the basses behind the walls, she was disappointed. Instead, she heard faint tones of classical music.

"Scary, isn't it," Faith said, "The clubs are in the possession of the other side now. They're trying to encourage each other with those monstrous tunes."

"When..." Buffy was about to ask, but Faith silenced her with a gesture.

Buffy listened for strange noises by the garbage containers.

"That's them," Faith whispered and drew her stake.

Buffy could see a shadow in the faint light coming from a defective street lamp.

"Surprise!" Faith shouted and rushed at the creature.

The vampire screamed and ran as fast as he could.

This was totally untypical. Buffy saw Faith running after the vampire when she sensed the presence of another creature of the night near.

She listened closely, and with a quick move, she whirled around and pressed the vampire watching her to the wall of the disco, drawing her stake. The vamp's eyes were wide open, senses acute, and her _expression full of fear.

Buffy stared at the vampire as she recognised her. "Drusilla?" She looked into the vampire's eyes, but they lacked the insanity Buffy was used to seeing there. They were deep and... soulful.

"Please, don't kill me," the Drusilla pleaded, "My Lord sends for you. I'm just a messenger. My Lord knew you before Angelus murdered you. He wants to see you and sent me to deliver the message."

Buffy let go of the woman. "What's the name of your boss?"

Dru looked around anxiously. "The Slayer's returning, the dust of one of my brothers at her hands. I beg you, come to the stronghold when you can, it's a place called Hope. It used to be a disco." Then she ran off into the shadows, leaving Buffy in confusion. Buffy remembered the place. She had been there a few times, visiting her dad. In her reality, of course.

"Hey there," Faith greeted, "That one was too easy, I'm getting bored. Want to go to Caritas, slaughter some demons?"

"I thought Caritas was a kind of neutral zone," Buffy said cautiously.

Faith shrugged. "Who cares? You can't trust anyone these days, can you? So what's up, are you with me?"

Feeling she was sealing a pact with her blood, Buffy agreed slowly.

*

The massacre at Caritas still in her bones, Buffy soon withdrew to the quarters they had allocated her to, only to soon leave furtively. She had avoided killing any demon herself, but she had not been able to stop Faith without blowing her cover. Faith enjoyed killing. The vampires had been fleeing in a confused stampede, were hunted down like animals, helpless, weak, and full of fear. Buffy could not get it out of her head. This world did not make sense.

Buffy found herself back in the alley behind the club called Hope. She was attentive and cautious, her weapons ready, when she asked aloud: "Anyone here?"

One of the side entrances to Hope was opened. "Shshsh!" Drusilla admonished her, "They are everywhere!" She looked around, then, sure no one else was watching them, she pushed Buffy into Hope. In the light of the hall, Drusilla's face could be seen more clearly. Her black hair was braided tightly, and she wore a suit that allowed maximum movement in a fight. She was pale as any of her race, but her eyes were lively and always in motion.

"Don't think I don't trust you, but we can't be too careful. We've lost too many already."

As she turned to restore the barricade of the door, Buffy saw a red scar in the form of a crucifix at one side of her forehead, which she had covered with her hair. "What happened to you?" Buffy asked.

"Angelus," Drusilla explained briefly. "I was saved, but many died in his dungeon. I had a friend called Sunday, I don't even know if she's still in this world or in a better one. I want to end this madness."

Believe me, that's what I want as well, Buffy thought, not daring to speak aloud.

While Drusilla was still talking, a trap door in the floor opened, and a group of young men, most of them clearly demons and vampires, flooded into Hope.

"We met a troop of Angelus's men, some of us are wounded," one of them explained to Drusilla, then he saw Buffy. "So you came, after all."

"She doesn't remember," Drusilla described the problem, "Bringing her back must have caused some kind of amnesia. Buffy, this is the commander of unit five, Lindsey."

Buffy stretched out her hand to greet him, when she suddenly noticed his hand was artificial. She froze in the movement. Realizing she was staring, she drew back her hand and murmured an apology.

"It's okay, most people don't know how to react," Lindsey said, "I keep forgetting other people have two hands. People who were clever enough not to interfere with Angelus, of course." He cleared his voice. "As I see, you've met Dru. She's the brain in our troupe, her IQ is 243."

Drusilla cast her eyes down shyly. "You really shouldn't mention it."

Buffy was astonished. In her reality, she had known Drusilla, but this woman had nothing in common with the cruel lunatic she had crossed paths with.

Lindsey noticed her surprise. "You don't remember us at all," he stated sadly, "That's a great disappointment. But you're here, nevertheless you're still on our side."

"I'm not on anyone's side but my own at the moment," Buffy corrected, "And I'd appreciate if someone told me what is going on here, so I can form my own picture despite my... amnesia. If I should come to the view you are wrong, I've never been here at all. Deal?" She considered it wiser not to reveal she did not belong here.

"Sounds fair," Lindsey agreed. "You've been on patrol with The Slayer, so you know her methods. She's a killer, in cold blood, and merciless. Her only objective is to kill demons and vampires, just because she can. And we've taken on the hopeless task of stopping her. This world belongs to us, and we must re-claim it before there are no innocent people left. Most of us have been closely involved in the fighting." He pointed at the mark on Dru's skin and his artificial hand. "We are not as many as we once were, and we have to proceed cautiously. Faith and her gang eliminated our most powerful ally, the Mayor of Sunnydale. So we decided against an open fight, and we're trying to infiltrate the enemy. We are behind the organisation called Wolfram & Hart, which pretends to be an attorney's association serving the interests of evil, but which is a beneficial, caring organisation for the families of slain demons instead. It's my job to keep our secret identities up. Then, there is Ethan. He does the magic stuff."

Ethan Rayne waved from behind his book. "Hi."

"He's a valuable source, for he knows some weaknesses of the other side. He studied at university with Ripper."

Buffy still was not convinced of the sincerety of these people yet. It was driving her crazy to reverse all categories in her head all the time. "Why do you help vampires?" she asked.

"Angelus and Faith are destroying peace and justice," Lindsey explained, "And they draw innocent demons to the dark side. Take, for example, Anya --- have you met her?"

Buffy shook her head.

"She was a fairy," Drusilla added, "She used to grant wishes. They stole her powers and made her human. It was so cruel. And then, there was Spike. We planned to get married in the fall of that fateful year." She struggled not to cry. "A governmental initiative experimented with electronic chips to increase the physical abilities of our warriors. Spike volunteered for the project. But they somehow managed to re-program the chip, and it turned him into a violent fighting machine --- against his own kind. Losing him wouldn't have been that hard if he'd died. I'm sorry, I still can't talk about it."

Lindsey handed her a tissue. "Now you've got a first impression. I can take you to our leaders now. Our spiritual leader is one of the Ancients, so please show him your respect. He performs the morning prayers every day." He opened the door.

"Master, The Slayer is here."

The Master turned around. His face had the animalistic look of a typical Ancient, the ridges permanent, the mouth with its long white fangs, his fingers being more like claws. Buffy shuddered as she remembered dying by his hand in her first year at Sunnydale High. Yet his eyes were calm and warm, his gaze open and reminding Buffy of her grandfather. Buffy tried to overcome her conflicting feelings. She needed concentration, the last thing she could use now was her emotions getting in the way of her judgment.

"Welcome. Seeing you again gives me hope, though you don't remember. In your heart, you always knew what was your true nature, and that you belonged to the Good. Angel brought the good in you to the surface, I mourn his loss, and I pray I can make you see the good, too. May Light surround you wherever you go."

Still confused, Buffy bowed her head slightly.

Then a female vampire stepped at his side. Buffy needed no introduction. She knew the face.

"This is Darla, our leader in battle," the Master introduced her.

"Let me guess," Buffy said with more than just a hint of sarcasm, "You turned Angel into a vampire in 17th century Ireland to prevent him from dying of a cirrhosis of the liver?"

Darla's face lit up. "You remember me!"

Buffy shrugged. "As I said, just a guess."

As Darla approached her, Buffy instinctively backed away.

"Don't be afraid," Darla told her and made a magic sign of protection on Buffy's forehead. "I've always seen Angel as my son, and I hope your love can save him from the shadow that hangs over his soul, as he showed you the way into the light."

Buffy felt uncomfortable. The Master and Darla, well-known to her aong ong the most sadistic of all creation, as warriors for the good? She might be able to accept that. But one thing worried her much more – they still thought she was the Buffy of this mirror universe. The evil Buffy. She remembered her own dark side well, what she had seen when Dracula had exerted his influence on her. Angel's dark side can be quite convincing. Don't let him drag you along.

*

Buffy was deep in thought when she was returning to the mansion, taking the cut over one of L.A.'s numerous cemeteries. It was much darker than the streets, her eyes had to get used to the darkness to find the path that was leading through the rows of graves and crypts. But she felt safer here. This place was too close to the headquarters to be a raging battleground, Darla's troops did not dare to come into its immediate surroundings. Whereas she remembered it as the home of many undead and one of Faith's preferred patrol routes, it was deserted now. No one would disturb her here.

She had seen Faith, the cruelty with which she proceeded in her fight against demons, and she had witnessed the change in her friends, reaching its peak in Spike' treatment of Sunday. She had talked to the Master and Darla, to Drusilla and Lindsey, whose hopeless fight against their tyrants showed the marks of totalitarian arbitrariness. Yet they were unwilling to give up.

Buffy knew she had to get away, leave this universe in which she did not belong. She had no desire to be the key figure in a battle between good and evil when she could not even tell one side from the other. Her own world was waiting for her, her duties, her job, the Watcher's Council, the situation with David that would have to be decided, and, most important, her own friends.

Buffy felt a sudden chill. Where were the noises of little animals in the night? She had heard them a moment ago, and now, nothing, not even a muffled sound. Silence. In the emptiness between the graves, she felt she was being watched. Her hand closed around the stake. "All right, come out, I know you're there," she shouted.

"Your senses are still acute," Angelus said in an admiring tone, but Buffy was unable to determine a direction, and he did not show himself.

"I should have known it's you," she said to the dead stones around her.

"Where were you?" his voice came from somewhere in the darkness.

Buffy tried to make out his silhouette between the tombstones, but Angelus was a part of the night surrounding her, and nowhere to be seen. "I could not sleep."

"That does not answer my question."

"I was walking around, no particular place to go."

"Being out in the dark can be dangerous."

It sounded like a threat. The night was dark, the shadows from the trees increasing the blackness. It was new moon. There were no street lamps here, clouds hid the stars. Before her lay the white pebbles of the main path that would lead her out to the trees. Buffy made some insecure steps forward. If she remained on the main path, she was predictable. If she left it, she might lose her way. It made her nervous not to see where he was. In the dark, the vampire had an advantage. Did he know she had been to see the Master? Did he suspect she was not what she pretended to be? He had killed her before, in this reality, and almost in her own. What told her he was not going to do it again? "Hey, which part exactly of The Chosen One didn't you get? I'm not afraid in the dark," she told him, and herself.

She was alone. Her weapons would not be of any use, for there was no direction in which to aim them, no light, nothing. She fixed her eyes on the path, listened anxiously for any sound, or any sign of movement.

Then she felt a light touch in her hair. Her hand shot into the direction the touch had come from, but there was nothing.

She heard him laugh.

The laughter came from her left, she spun round, just to feel a cold hand at her right arm. Vampires moved several times as fast as an ordinary human being, and her instincts seemed to fail her quite often on this side of the mirror. While she could not even make out the approximate direction the attack came from, he would always know where she was.

Buffy took a deep breath, and then made a run for the huge iron gates. She heard his steps behind her, the rhythm slow and steady, every two steps of hers being one of his. She crushed pieces of broken glass under her feet, a startled nightbird in search of insects sped into the air before her, a moth touched her face as she continued her frantic flight.

As she hit the paled gates and was about to climb over, she realized the steps had stopped.

Buffy breathed hard. "I'm leaving now," she said, her voice shaking.

Angelus's face was close to her own. "Try."

She knew she would always remember how the night felt, how the colors had faded into an all-consuming, all-covering darkness. When she clung to the iron bars, cold against her hands, but warm against the ice-like touch that was claiming her from behind.

Buffy turned around like lightning and began to climb the gate.

Buffy panicked. The memories flushed over her, how disgusted she had been with the Angelus of her own world and how painful it was to look in his eyes and see the absence of the soul, the cold calculation in the eyes that once belonged to the man she had loved for three important years of her life. Angelus grabbed her with strong arms and pulled her back down, hurling her against the iron bars. Buffy gasped in pain. He struck her over the face, hard, so hard her lip was bleeding. Then his mouth was over hers, she struggled, but felt his tongue lick away the blood from her face. With a swift movement, he ripped her dress off.

"No," she whispered, then louder, "Stop. Now." This was worse than killing her.

He chuckled. His hands were everywhere.

She was shivering, her body responding to his touch, insisting this was Angel, not Angelus ravishing her, but her mind crying out in agony. "Don't!" Buffy was screaming now. "No!"

She was pulled back as she felt she was losing ground. The darkness claimed her, its claws closed around her. She see could not see it, but feel it. Angelus hit her again and again, then kissed her breathtakingly. Her underwear joined her dress somewhere on the ground, in the dark, as his hands cupped her breasts. He fought hard to maintain his human visage in his state of arousal, but he wanted her to look into Angel's eyes when he raped her. So she would hate him. He would eventually kill her. At least, he would try. Her instincts were raging against the force which drew her back into this place of death. They could not accept the battle was lost before it was even fought, they rebelled against the way of being forced to someone else's will. But not Buffy Summers. She was above fear. Dying three times in seven years and always coming back kind of made you lose respect. The iron bars immovable behind her, becoming a barrier making the world behind it vanish, and she knew when she would examine the soft surface of her skin in the morning, when the first rays of sun would chase away the shadows and come to her rescue, streaks of red would show where the bars were pressing against her now. But then it would be too late, the cavalry, manifesting itself in her imagination as a knight in shining armor would not arrive, not this time. Her world had changed, irrevocably. Her life should flash before her mind like a movie, Buffy supposed, yet all she could think of was how she would see the bruises on her skin, the evidence she had not dreamt. If she survived the night. Survival. The Slayer lingered with the thought for a moment, then reality called her back violently.

She felt Angelus's unneeded breath in her face, his presence forcing itself on her, skin on skin. The way she had wanted to feel Angel for so often and had been denied. Her body remembered every single touch from the night of her seventeenth birthday and, what was worse, so did Angelus.

The circle of life running the adrenaline through her arteries in masses cried out to her to make the primal instinct of survival her only reality. In a desperate effort, she tried to make the escape, to make the run. Mobilizing all her strength, Buffy pushed him away in a desperate effort and bolted for the narrow path.

Like a chased animal, the fearful, racing heartbeat stimulating its follower into the kill, the flight being part of the game. But not her follower. He was above enjoyment. He calculated her flight even before she knew she would run. And as the prey does not see the hawk falling down from the sky as it seals its death sentence, she would not see what hit her. Her hawk did not fall from the sky, it lurked in the shadows and tracked her down, basking in her naive conviction she stood any chance at all.

Angelus caught up with her effortlessly. "You had better days," he said mockingly, and Buffy was hit by the painful realization he was right. She had become a poor excuse for a Slayer, neglecting her training because there were so many others to do the job. Her skills were still enough for a few clueless newbies in Rome's cemeteries, but the Scourge of Europe, defeated by her once, was in a different league. Now she would pay. Angelus threw her down on a tombstone. Buffy moaned in pain as her bones seemed to be breaking all at once when she made contact with the hard marble. She was in unbearable pain.

The sky fell down upon her, the faint lights of the stars covered in towering clouds, about to shed their tears for her. She looked up at the curve of the dark sky in order not to look in his triumphant face. He did not even show enough mercy to lay her down on the wet grass . It was the hard surface of a tombstone he had chosen for the sacrifice to the god he was to himself, and to whom he would make her pray before the night was over.

He stripped his clothes off, never shifting his weight off her body, and reveled in his victory, about to take his prize. As she thought about Angel, tears welled up in her eyes. She closed them. Angelus would not see her cry.

Then, a voice cut through the darkness, cold and mocking, sarcasm in every word. "I believe the lady said no."

Angelus looked up. "Go away," he snapped.

Buffy opened her eyes. So there was a knight in shining armor after all. It was dark, the rain poured down from a black sky, her naked skin glistening with the rain water, Angelus above her, his hair drenched, and his eyes furious. And there was Spike, just very few steps distant, his cigarette no longer glowing, now also drenched by the rain. He dropped it on the ground and approached. He held the other vampire's gaze. "I'm not bloody going anywhere."

Thoughts were racing through Buffy's mind as Angelus rose, stark naked, growling at Spike. What was she to do? Run away while the two vampires were fighting over her? That would crash her disguise to pieces. She struggled to her feet, her legs shaking.

"Didn't your mom teach you any manners, mate?" Spike asked and took a step towards Buffy. "Hello, luv," he said softly and bent to kiss her cheek. While Buffy's gaze was fixed on Angelus's raging eyes, she heard Spike whisper in her ear: "Can't get away, so play along, pet."

Buffy shivered. What did he mean? Could it be that he was seeing through her little charade? What was she going to do? Play along! She wasn't planning on giving Angelus freely what he had meant to take by force.

"Enough," Angelus snarled, his hands forming into fists. "She's mine, and I don't want you here."

Spike shrugged. "Can't please everyone, can you."

Buffy gathered all her courage. She was the evil Buffy of the parallel universe now, she had to think and act like her if she wanted to survive. She could not risk Spike or Angelus suspecting her true identity. She walked towards them with unsteady steps. "Hey, guys," she said, desperately trying to keep her voice from shaking, "Don't you think we're too clever for this kind of discussion?" She ran her hand over Spike's chest. "Why don't we start where we left off?" She looked at Angelus, praying none of the two vampires would hear her frantic heartbeat in the thunder and rain, or if they did, attribute it to arousal, not fear. She forced herself to smile naughtily. "The more, the merrier."

Spike closed his eyes for a moment, and Buffy thought she saw... relief.

Angelus scowled a little, but he followed as Buffy was leading them back to the tombstone, slowly sitting down.

Buffy's heart was pounding in her chest. She closed her eyes as Spike knelt before her, parting her legs, and she felt his soaking hair cold against the skin of her inner thighs. Angelus pushed her hair aside and brought his lips down on her neck. Buffy shuddered when his fangs grazed her skin. Her eyes sought Spike's- Oh God, I can't do this! her gaze said. Spike's blue eyes held her gaze, were full of warning. He stroked her skin soothingly.

Yes, you can, his eyes told her, as he flicked his tongue over her clit to ease her pain when Angelus thrust his fangs into her neck.

The old wounds, healed ages ago, were torn open violently, the warm liquid of her life rewarding the night hawk for the efforts of the hunt. The Slayer would not bleed to death from the wounds, it was a demonstration of power, the distribution of the roles, silencing her instinct of survival, awakening the other strong impulse that urged her on. The saliva of her two demon lovers worked on Buffy like a drug. Angelus held her tight as he drew her blood-There was no breath in his chest to make her feel warmth against her skin in the cold air, and she might freeze to death if he allowed her to live long enough to feel the chill.

So she lay there in silence, as he did what he must to keep existing, to remain unliving. She kept her mind on Spike's attentions. The chill was slowly being replaced by the heat Spike was inflicting upon her, her body wet not just with rain, sweltering beneath the chilling rain, and now his eyes as well sparkling with the demon behind those gorgeous lashes. This night would leave her scarred, body and soul, and she was dimly aware the scars would be more painful still if she moved now. But she ran the risk. She arched against Spike, bucking her hips against his face, expecting Angelus to throw her back with so much force it would break her spine and leave her to die where her body would be found among graves in the morning, but he did not prevent her. The vampire chuckled, and, without a word, turned her around and lifted her on his lap, facing him, bringing her down hard on his protruding member. And for the first time in this darkness, Buffy saw the golden spark in his eyes. The memories of the flame burnt into her soul - like the moth never forgot the flame. Too close to the fatal heat to turn back. And as the moth in the moment of her death melts into the flame, she became one with the fire that consumes you, and part of her died on this grave, while part of the fire would be yours forever, scorching her from the inside with its deadly promise of eternity.

Spike ran his hands over her back, and she heard the sound of a belt unbuckled, then a zipper, and she felt Angelus beneath her tense when Spike pounded into her from behind. Caught in the middle, going to be crushed between them, yet she was unable to stop them doing to her as they pleased.

The agony numbed her senses. They were vampires, they could not love what they could not hurt, as they tossed her into an ocean without ground. They needed no breath, could dive into the ocean and let their bodies fall, but not her, she had to hold on and hope at least one of them would give her a chance to breathe. Often, in dreams buried deep in her memory. dreams she was ashamed of in the morning, she had imagined what it would be like. The best of both worlds. Light and dark, gold and brown, Angelus and Spike. They forced her over the edge, made her look into the abyss, made her fall. Buffy felt like dying when orgasm after orgasm hit her. She no longer cared what they did to her. And she hated yourself, for she embraced her death. Here, where the dead were to rest in peace, the vampires desecrated the sanctity of the place, and the Slayer gave them leave with each and every silent scream. They said Lucifer was the Lord's most beautiful angel, and Buffy's saviour that night was a handsome devil with sparkling blue eyes and hair as white as snow in the flashes of lightning. He had saved her from Angelus just to torture her all by himself with the only weapon he needed, his body. She could not breathe, for he forced her to experience how close she was, how close to begging him to fuck her to death, and all the pleas she could have said to save her pointless life, all the witty replys she'd planned to throw at him were melting into a careless whisper, whispering his name in the darkness, before she abandoned thought, before her world changed for ever.

"Spike," Buffy sighed.

Then hell broke loose. The storm was howling between the graves, dashing the clouds, heavy with rain after the drought, and lightning set the whole scenery ablaze for the fraction of a second.

In the flash of lightning, Buffy stared at Angelus's face. She felt Spike was behind her and shivered against his body. In Angelus's eyes, there was unspeakable rage as she felt him pounding into her, her blood all over his face as he snarled: "Say my name."

But she couldn't. She was unable to say it, and so there was no such thing as mercy for her.

His name became a scream from her lips, drowned by the rolling thunder. Angelus.

Her eyes flew open when the white light lits her form and his. Long enough for Buffy to see his skin, red with her blood and the fever in his eyes. Her scream was enough to drive him over the edge as well with an animalistic growling, as his dead seed was sing ing into her, and felt Spike's hand on her neck. She knew she had never given him leave to bite her in her own reality, but she had already gone too far to deny him now. She closed her eyes and hung her head. Her world exploded once again when he thrust his fangs into her neck, and she saw images crossing her mind. She was kissing his bruised lips when he had not betrayed Dawn to Glory. Spike's blue eyes, his voice, soft and gentle, Every night I save you. His arms catching her in her dance before she burst into flames. A pair of handcuffs, his hand in the pocket of her jeans as he was claiming his zippo back, his hand bursting into flames before her eyes when the ground shook beneath them, his final laughter ringing in her ears as he sacrificed his life for her, for the world, for the universe. I meant it when I said I loved you. I just didn't know. The thunder drowned her screams, and within minutes, the rain had soaked her hair, the marble had become slippery, and she could only guess the grass has turned into a swamp. Buffy Summers felt the water running down her closed eyelids, the rain like an extinguishing flood washing over her, making no difference where light stopped and darkness began. The sky shed its tears, washing away the stains, and her tears mingled with the rain, for she knew she would never again feel what she felt the moment the storm broke.

TBC...