Breaking a Slayer

Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 45

*

Tara smoothed her oil slick hands across Willow's chest, inching torturously slowly down to brush the tops of her pale breasts. Willow sighed in desire as Tara traced the outline of each areola with skillful fingers. Tara was an expert at wringing every last response from Willow's willing body and tonight was the culmination of their play and religion all in one.

Sex magic was not about the sex, per se. It was about harnessing that enormous, vital human drive and using the power that it raised for a purpose. In this case, the witches had decided to send the power to Buffy. They knew the pain and agony she had gone through earlier that summer, and knew that there was nothing they could do to take that pain away.

They could, however, augment Buffy's clearly tenuous hold on normality with strength and compassion. They could direct power to her, now that she'd participated in a sacred circle with them, and she would benefit in unanticipated ways from the augmentation. At least, that was the plan…if Tara could only keep focused on the ritual instead of losing herself in her overwhelming need to make her lover scream her name in pleasure and repletion.

Tara gritted her teeth and swept oiled fingers across the rose-tipped breasts of her lover, swirling the oil into Willow's pale flesh with painstaking care. Willow sighed louder and pushed her breasts into Tara's hands, rubbing against her to increase the friction.

Tara swept the oil downward over Willow's taut stomach, dabbling it into her navel and smiling as her lover squirmed. Willow stilled as Tara's capable hands swept lower, rubbing the sweet scented oil into the coarse red curls that grew in a triangle at the apex of her lover's legs. Tara pushed those legs apart and rubbed the oil along Willow's slit, smiling in delight at the rapt expression on her lover's face.

Willow was an amazingly responsive lover, attuned to every thought and feeling that Tara possessed. Making love with her was rapture and Tara thanked the goddess every day for the gift of love between the two of them. She moved her hands to Willow's smoothly muscled hips, sliding more oil down them as she moved lower. Tara knelt before Willow and poured oil down first one leg and then the other, watching as it snaked its way down the white flesh of her beloved.

Willow shook with passion, a passion shared by Tara, who could barely keep herself from feasting upon the tender bud directly in front of her face as she worked the oil into Willow's pretty legs. She reached her tongue out to taste Willow's sex and gave it a lingering lick. Willow groaned and rocked her hips forward to meet Tara's mouth, pressing desperately against that talented tongue.

Tara recalled her purpose with difficulty and stood abruptly, nearly knocking Willow over as she jumped behind her and out of temptation's immediacy. Of course, looking at Willow's slender back and curvy ass was no less tempting. Tara hastened to apply the oil, which was symbolic of harmony, peace and tranquility, essential ingredients in Buffy's mental balance. She slithered her hands down Willow's spine, seeking and finding each sensitive spot and soothing/inflaming the lust that her lover was feeling. Moving further down, she slicked oil across Willow's ass, rubbing it into the white flesh with, perhaps, more enthusiasm than the spell strictly called for.

Now she knew why more people didn't attempt this spell…or rather, why more didn't complete it successfully. The temptation to simply give in to one's desires and fuck the other spell caster was nearly unbearable. Tara moved her hands to the backs of Willow's thighs, smoothing the oil down to the sensitive backs of her knees. Willow's legs nearly buckled at this intimate caress and Tara hastened to apply the remaining oil to her lover's lower legs and feet before they totally lost it.

At last they were ready. The oil covered every inch of their skin. It was time to begin.

*

Buffy struggled back through the flames and smoke, eyes closed and heart racing in fear for her love and herself. She had left poor Spike outside bleeding onto the pavement and unconscious from blood loss. She only hoped that if the paramedics found him, they wo't 't declare him dead. Perhaps an IV of blood might help him, though she'd never actually heard of a vampire getting blood any way but orally.

Tracing the grayish tie that linked her to Angel, Buffy crawled slowly back through the noxious smoke. At least near the floor it was a little easier to breathe. Still, she needed to get to Angel and get the hell out before she passed out and trapped them both in the blaze.

Att sht she found her lover and fell upon him, hugging him and kissing his unresponsive face. "Angel," she cried, "Please wake up, love. We've got to get out of here. Now!"

Angel opened blurry eyes at the unexpected sound of his mate's voice. "Buffy?" he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your ass, you big lug. Let's get the hell out of here. Or were you so fond of hell when I sent you there that you want to repeat that whole little scenario?"

Her words stung him, as she had hoped they would, and he glared at her as he lumbered to his feet with none of his usual grace.

"Good boy," she murmured, sorry to have hurt him, but glad that it had the desired effect.

Angel's eyes narrowed as he realized he'd been had, but he knew she was right in using any means necessary to goad him into movement. "Let's go, Buffy," he said, trying hard to sound authoritative, but only managing weak. Blood loss, wounds and fasting had taken a terrible toll on his body.

Buffy wrapped an arm around his waist and he flinched at the pain before steeling himself and leaning heavily on her as they moved into the smoke and flames.

*

The flames climbed high into the night sky as Willow lowered Tara to an unbleached cotton blanket inside the sacred circle. "Oh, earth dwelling mother, lady of desire, goddess of love, hear my spell and grant me power to rise as my passion rises." She caressed her lover with hands that trembled with need and desire. Tara kissed her gently, delving into Willow's mouth with hungry, passionate kisses. They kissed as if they would climb into each other's body, devouring each other with desperate need.

Willow broke the kiss, gasping for air, and moved her mouth to one of Tara's nipples, sucking it hungrily into her mouth and laving the pointed nipple with her tongue until Tara groaned in want. Willow switched to the other breast, kissing and sucking at it with equal care until Tara ground herself against Willow's leg in an effort to assuage the lust that was building within her.

Tara flipped Willow to her back and knelt above her, kissing and nipping at her breasts with the same ferocity Willow had shown to hers. She kissed lower and lower on Willow's belly until she reached the flaming curls that glistened with oil in the firelight. "Oh, horned god, ruler of passion and promise, god of the hunt and lover of the goddess, hear my spell and grant me power to rise as my passion rises." She lowered her mouth to Willow's waiting slit and licked slowly up it, suckling the sensitive flesh into her mouth and sliding her tongue deep into the honeyed sweetness that flowed there.

Willow was so sweet, not tangy at all, and so responsive that Tara could hardly believe it possible. She parted Willow's shaking legs and traced her lover's clit with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth and laving it with soft, lingering strokes. Willow writhed in abandon below her and Tara smiled into her cunt as she ate her out.

Willow had had enough of this one-sidedness, and pulled and tugged until she got Tara's legs up near her mouth and her lover's luscious cunt opened to her. They formed their own sacred circle, intertwined and locked together, each one caressing and suckling on the other, fingers plunging into hot, wet cunts and mouths fastened to clits, pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other. The power waxed, waned a bit, waxed higher and higher with each crashing orgasm as the witches continued the ritual.

This was where women had an extraordinary advantage over male witches. They didn't spend all their power at once in one huge rush. Instead the power grew stronger and stronger as the night wore on, their young, healthy bodies able to reach higher and higher pinnacles of pleasure until they were both screaming with desire and power.

Willow had worked four fingers into Tara's flowing cunt, pistoning her arm in and out, faster and faster as Tara writhed on her. Tara, in turn, was making love to Willow with mouth and fingers, wrenching pleasure from her in waves that threatened to overwhelm her consciousness completely.

At last, they reached the very heights of love, lust, and power, and released it all into the night along the bond that they felt with Buffy. Spent, the witches collapsed into sleep, the fire and sacred circle keeping them safe under the bright starry sky.

*

Buffy wasn't going to make it. She could feel the fumes overwhelming her system, shutting down her breathing, making it impossible to think. She stumbled under Angel's weight, trying desperately to find her way through the inferno that blazed around them. Angel was little help. His body shook with the effort of just taking one step at a time, flinching from the constant and terrible pain.

Buffy stumbled again and this time Angel came crashing down with her. They fell to the floor in a particularly dangerous place, with melting plastic and burning wood all around them. The heat was intense and Angel was whimpering in agony as his cool flesh was seared in an almost sun-like burn.

Buffy couldn't go on, couldn't stand, couldn't catch her breath. She coughed and coughed, as her lungs tried to rid themselves of the noxious fumes, without luck. Her vision got blurry and her head started to spin as she began to asphyxiate.

Suddenly, without warning, blue-green power arced into her from nowhere. Buffy's head snapped back and her eyes glowed amber, startlingly like Spike's in that moment. The power felt familiar, felt like…Willow? And Tara, too. Buffy realized that the witches must have sent it to her somehow, but how had they known that she needed it right now?

*Enough thinking, stupid, get Angel and get the hell out of here,* Buffy thought to herself, jumping to her feet with renewed vigor. She hauled her lover to his feet with all her strength and began pulling/carrying him toward the door, now outlined to her oddly-changed vision as a greener patch in the hellish flickering of the flames. They stumbled the last few steps and made it outside just as the beams of the ceiling collapsed behind them, sparking madly like some pile of firecrackers gone horribly wrong.

Buffy half-carried Angel to Spike's car and pushed him into the back seat, grateful that the paramedics and firefighters had concentrated their efforts on the larger building to the right of the office. She raced back to Spike, still unconscious on the ground and ominously, no longer bleeding from the dreadful wound in his leg. Hefting him with difficulty, Buffy returned to the car, slinging him inside on top of Angel. There was only one place she could think of to go, and she prayed that her father was away on a business trip, as usual.

Buffy reached her father's condo in only a few minutes, thanking the powers that be and Willow and Tara for the luck. She unlocked the door with the key code that her father had given her, grateful that he never bothered to change it. Pulling first Spike and then Angel into the condo, Buffy closed and locked the door behind her before sinking to her knees next to the blond vampire.

If Spike was going to heal, the first thing she needed to do was straighten his leg out. Buffy winced at the thought, but knew she couldn't escape the task. She went to the kitchen, grabbed some scissors and cut Spike's jeans from his leg to expose the wound. It was ghastly. Bone shards jutted from the pale flesh like obscene pick up sticks.

Gritting her teeth, Buffy pulled Spike's leg straight, pushing on the bones with one hand to move them back into place. At least now she couldn't see them. She felt up and down the leg, trying to make sure that everything was lined up properly. As far as she could tell, it was.

She bandaged the leg with sheets torn from her father's bed, wondering as she did so if silk was ok to use for bandages. Served him right anyway, the big jerk.

Next, Buffy turned her attention to Angel. She had to get him to wake up. Buffy shook him gently, then more firmly, wincing at the bandages she saw all over his torso. Clearly the vampires' sojourn in LA had not been without incident. At last, Angel opened his eyes. Buffy cried in relief, desperately happy to have her mate awake and truly with her once again.

Buffy held Angel's wounded body in her arms. He had stopped flinching from her touch, even though the pain was worsening with every passing hour. The attack, the fast, and the fire had taken their toll on his aged vampiric flesh. Angel was barely able to speak any longer, almost unable to form coherent thoughts.

Without fresh blood to sustain it, his body was suffering, the pain tearing at him with razor sharp claws. He writhed in helpless agony, screaming and thrashing as Buffy held him. The pain subsided a bit, waves receding before the next, even greater onslaught. Angel worried that now that the time had come for the ritual, he'd not have the presence of mind to even say the simple words that would bind the soul deeper to him.

Angel's eyes glowed amber as he smelled the blood of his childe and mate. Buffy's hands and knees were lacerated and covered with semi-dried blood, her Slayer's immune system speeding the healing along. Angel was hungry…starving for the blood that he could smell and barely able to remember why he couldn't take some.

"Buffy," he whispered. "What time is it?"

"It's near midnight," she answered, confused as to why he cared.

"Good," he said. "Help me up."

Buffy helped Angel to his feet and was shocked to see him vamp out as she did so. "Back away, Buffy," he ordered urgently. Taking a deep, unnecessary breath, Angel slashed open the tips of his fingers with his fangs and began drawing a pentacle on the floor. He had to bite again and again to get any blood at all from his fingers, he was so parched. At last he had the pentacle drawn.

He hadn't gone without blood for two damned weeks, left Buffy alone to face her friends and whatever ghastly things the hellmouth was throwing at her, hell, let this happen to his Childe, in order to fail now.

Another wave of pain hit, taking his non-existent breathe away and he couldn't even howl, it was so intense. Pain, fear, rage, need, blood, blood, BLOOD!

He shrieked in agony and began chanting:

"Whilst demonic Angelus dwells within me let my soul be bound, let it ne'er break free. By the blood of my sire, now damned to hell, lock my soul to the vessel in which it doth dwell. By my soul, by my death, by the blood that I spill, so mote it be, wright this now as I will."

Three times he chanted it, forcing the iron will that had kept him going through the fight, fast, and flames to channel all the power he had accumulated in his centuries as a vampire into the spell. He felt the demon surface and subside, fighting over and over again as he sealed the soul ever closer to himself. At last he was finished. Angel collapsed in a heap on the floor, body screaming for blood, mind crying for rest. He reached a hand to smear through the pentacle, breaking the barrier and allowing the energy to dissipate.

Buffy grabbed for Angel as he collapsed, but could not enter until he broke the lines of the pentacle. Then she was there, offering her throat to her love with no thought of the consequences to herself.

Angel struck with desperation, sinkfangfangs deep into his Mark on Buffy's neck. He sucked hard and she writhed with pain, pain in which she was joined as her blood burned through Angel's body, healing with such speed that he broke away from her and screamed at the agony of the growing flesh. There was otherworldly energy there in Buffy's blood that hadn't been there only weeks earlier. That one draught of powerful blood was enough to heal most of his wounds and he retained barely enough presence of mind not to strike again at his love, too afraid of harming her.

Besides, he thought, there was one who needed that healing, as well. Angel moved to Spike, cradling the broken body of his Childe in his arms. "Buffy," he begged, "I know I can't ask it, but please, can you help him? I swear, I won't let him take too much, but he's wounded because of me. He dared the flames to save me."

Buffy smiled wearily at her soulmate. Of course she would save Spike if she could. He was hers now, as surely as Angel was. After all that he had done for Angel and for her, she couldn't let him suffer, not if she could help it. She leaned close to Spike's mouth and Angel help him to her neck, pressing the Mark against his mouth until blood welled into it.

Suddenly, Spike began lapping at the blood, then sucking harder. Buffy moaned at the feeling of his teeth sinking into the wound, deepening it, then moaned again as Spike's hands drifted up her body, clutching at her as he sucked. One lacerated hand brushed across her filthy flannel shirt, rubbing at the nipple that hardened immediately below it.

The pain/pleasure that always flowed through her at her lovers' bites swept Buffy into a haze of need, despite her tiredness, and she arched against Spike's long, naked leg, rubbing against it. His limp body was suddenly not so, and he rolled her to her back, rubbing his now-hard cock against her in needy passion. The green-blue energy residing in Buffy moved its way into him through the blood bond and S san sank fangs further into Buffy involuntarily as he went into convulsions, his bones reknitting and bonding as if they'd never been broken. Orgasm swept through her body at the hard sucking of her lover and Buffy lost consciousness.

Angel pulled Spike quickly away from Buffy, afraid that once again, they'd endangered her life with their dark needs. He licked the wound closed, and took heart from the strong beating of her heart and lack of pallor in her face. She would be all right, they all would. Spike was healing before Angel's eyes, beautiful even in his blood caked semiconsciousn Clo Closing his bleary eyes, Angel curled around his two lovers -- safe and relatively sound. He promptly passed out.

To be continued...