By Maquis Leader




Rated NC17

Author's note: Set in an alternate reality that branches off somewhere during Angel season 4 and Buffy season 7. This was supposed to be a drabble using the word sang-froid. I tried, I really did!  This story is for Kumiko; without her help I’d still be trying to figure out how to install XP!





She didn't know how long she'd been hiding. Crouching in a corner across from the pool she'd drowned in years ago.


Hunger had ceased to be a concern even before she'd given up, turned to run and hide. She'd fought the good fight until she was the only one standing. When there was no one left to fight for – she ran.


They would find her eventually. Though the Master was dust, the cavern resonated still with the magiks that had held him trapped here for decades. For now, those same magiks shielded her. But they would find her eventually.


When the End of Days came, it had been Xander who’d betrayed them. All those years watching Willow for the slightest sign that the darkness was going to slip past her guard, and in the end, it had been the one person no one ever considered a threat.


Normal Xander. Regular guy Xander. Always the one unmagical person in a disaster Xander. He had bashed Willow's head in with a sledgehammer while she slept. Dawn had nearly met the same fate.


She shifted, trying to ease the ache in her ribs. For the bazillionth time she wondered if it had been the wrong thing to do, saving Dawn from Xander. Her death later had been far from quick and merciful.


Giles' theory that Xander had been possessed was probably true, but it hadn’t made it any easier to kill him. Xander had been supernaturally strong and fast, and his eyes had glowed an ugly violet, but cutting his head off had still killed him. And killed a part of her as well.


Her left leg cramped, and she sucked in a breath. Something greenish with claws had slashed her before she could kill it. The wound was healing. Her destiny didn't care that the war was lost.


Willow. Xander. Dawn. Giles. Spike. One by one they'd fallen to magic and evil. Violent deaths that went unnoticed in the greater carnage. What did a handful matter when thousands had perished? They were all that mattered to her, and she let the tears run down her cheeks.


Her last hope had gone with the staticky phone call from LA. Wes had been frantic, telling her that Angel was gone and that Gunn and Fred had been killed. The call had ended abruptly, his soft cry of pain perfectly British as always.


Tears splattered on her chest. Thinking of Angel, of the dust that he had vanished in, she put a hand to her chest to hold her heart inside. He was immortal and forever. How could he be gone?


A tingle ran over her skin. Several vamps had come close, but none had invaded the chapel that had held the Master. The tingle grew stronger, and she groped for the stake at her feet. Had it picked up her scent? Her lips pulled back from her teeth in a snarl. She wasn’t going down without a fight.


Electricity zipped into the tingle to give it an all too familiar feel that twisted around the base of her spine to settle into the pit of her belly. No. No it was wishful thinking. Just a vamp and nothing more.


She sensed the movement, turned her head to see him standing in the opening across the cavern. Tall, dark, and solid. The leather coat swirled as he jumped down to the dirt floor. Mouth dry, she could only gape as he walked to her. The stake rolled out of her numb fingers.


The long stride, almost a strut, caught her eye, as did the effortless way he moved over the rough ground. A big cat. A predator.


Angel’s gone – do you understand? Angel’s gone! Wes’ hysterical voice came back to her.




A slight smirk tugged at his lips.


He crouched beside her. Cool, strong fingers brushed her hair back and tipped her head to one side. Cool, soft lips brushed her cheek above the bruise she knew was there. For a moment she held out hope. He was gentle, and she could almost believe. Until she looked up into the dark chocolate eyes.


And saw the demon there. No longer shrouded by the soul.




“Buffy.” A smile as he realized that Angel’s habit was completely ingrained in his consciousness.


“I should have known.” Who else would know where to look for her?


“Wes tried to tell you, lover.” He ran a fingertip down her nose. “Moron should have said something more intelligent.”


“Terror does that to a person.” She batted his hand away.


“Can you stand?” She was hurt, but he didn’t hear any internal bleeding.


“I guess.”


He pulled off his coat and draped it around her shoulders. She winced as she tried to stand up. Carefully, he guided her arms into the sleeves before he slipped his hands down to her waist. Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders as he helped her to her feet.


Lifting her into his arms, he carried her out of the cavern.


She laid her head on his shoulder, tucking her nose into the familiar spot under his jaw. Where he was taking her she didn’t ask. She didn’t care. He was the one enemy she couldn’t fight. Besides herself.





He had to set her on her feet while he forced the door open, holding her up with an arm around her waist. Once time and weather yielded to his strength, he picked her up again and carried her inside.


Musty, stale air made him wrinkle his sensitive nose. From memory he made his way through the darkness. Finding the sofa, he lowered her onto it and left her there, pausing to run a hand over her hair.


She sat in the dark, listening to his movements. Why here? A match flared, and she blinked.


"Oops, should have warned you." He lit the candle he'd found. "My bad."


"I'll beat you later." She watched him move around the room lighting candles. Graceful, dangerous, and beautiful. She closed her eyes as vanilla filled the room.


"Promise?" The grin was lascivious and wicked. 


She didn't answer, pretending the image of him naked hadn't popped into her mind.


Desire, faint and spicy, mixed with the vanilla and his cock hardened in response. Not that he doubted that she wanted him. 


Tossing the match aside, he stretched slowly. Lazily. Her eyes followed his movements and her scent sharpened. What female – be she demon or human – could resist his perfection?


She forced herself to look at the dust covered objects in the room. Anything to keep herself from wanting him. He was not Angel. He was a demon wearing her love's body.


"Why here?" She asked as he walked across the small area toward her. The world had ended. He could kill her anywhere. Line up to see her die, folks!


"It began here." He stroked a hand over her hair. "It has to end here." 


"It began in an alley." Girl meets boy. Girl knocks boy down. Girl falls in love with boy and sends him to hell.  


"No. The two of you began there. We began here." His touch was gentle. Gliding over her hair and cheek. Was it possible some part of Angel remained? She looked up into his eyes. 


And saw the demon there. No longer shrouded by the soul.


He was evil. He was going to kill her. When he was good and ready. She took a deep breath. Winced.


"You okay?"






He knelt in front of her. Carefully, mindful of the dried blood and rips in her pant leg, he slid his hands along her thighs and guided her legs apart. Pressing against her, he pushed his coat back off of her shoulders and down her arms.


Unbuttoning her shirt, he frowned at the half healed cuts across her chest. The pink bra unclasped, and he pulled it and her shirt open, exposing her to him. Ugly green and black bruises marred the golden skin.


Of course rape would be part of his plan. Would he be like Spike and shove her down and hurt her? Or would he be gentle and hurt her even worse?


 He ran a finger down her ribs. “Broken?”


She debated lying. Would he be more gentle or more brutal if he thought they were broken? In the end, she knew, he would be more vicious if he caught her in a lie. “They were.”


The skin was hot in several places over her ribs, and he discarded his original plan to fuck her brains out. Too bad. He gave in to the urge to cup her breasts in his hands. They were perfect. Taut and pert. Nice little handfuls.


Against his palms, her nipples hardened, and he grinned. Dipping his head down, he lowered his mouth to suckle one pink nipple gently for a moment before bestowing the same loving treatment to the other.


The cool mouth sent a blast of fire through her, and she gasped. Her hands went of their own will into the thick, soft hair to hold him to her.


Spicy arousal curled up around them, and he growled softly. Perhaps fucking her would still be an option. The next moment, she cried out softly in pain as the deep breath she’d involuntarily sucked in forced her ribs to move. Or not.


Reluctantly, he raised his mouth from the pebbled, wet nipples. “Just relax, baby, short breaths.”


The endearment, Angel’s pet name for her, in his soft voice, made her eyes fill with tears not from physical pain. It wasn’t fair. One night with Angel was all she had to remember him by. One perfect moment of happiness –


Sadness clouded her scent, and the sweet spice vanished. He looked up. Was the pain that bad? “Baby?”


“Was – was it Cordy?” Jerky breaths hurt her ribs, but the pain didn’t compare. “She – was it – Cordy?”


“Cordy?” He cocked his head, trying to figure where her thoughts had wandered to. “I killed the bitch.”


“Or Fred? She wasn’t his type but – “ More herky jerky breaths as the tears fought to get out. “That wolf girl – she would – would have understood – “


It lit up suddenly. She thought Angel had screwed his way out. It was tempting. So very tempting to let her believe that. He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to look into the gray eyes. “No.”


“No? Someone – “ A tear got away and rolled down her cheek. “Someone new?”


“The senior partners sent in some big mojo worker to do the job.” He clutched his chest and then made a tossing motion. “Sucked Soul Boy right out!”


“He didn’t – “ Relief mixed with guilt that he hadn’t found that perfect moment with someone else.


“Nope.”  Pulling her shirt back together, he buttoned the middle buttons over the gaping bra.


She looked at him, confused. Wasn’t she good enough to rape now? And why was that so disappointing?


 "Just a few more minutes."


"Whatever." She turned her face away as he tried to kiss her.


Chuckling, he brushed his lips across her cheek. Cool under pressure. The picture of sang-froid.


Standing, he walked to the bed, pulled the dusty comforter off and threw it aside. He chuckled again, imagining her mangling the word. Suey-froidal? Taking his coat from behind her, he laid it out on the bed.


Of course. He’d want to tie her to the bed. Torture her. When he came back to kneel in front of her again, she turned away from him.


Unbuttoning his shirt, he took a small hand and placed it on his chest. The warm touch made him sigh. He’d wanted her hot little body tucked into his – or rather, his body tucked into hers – but he’d settle for this. For now.


His chest was cool and velvety soft, and her fingers moved in loving circles. There was a fading bruise over his heart. “Did it hurt?”


There was the temptation to tell her the truth. Tell her about the days of torture – expertly agonizing torture – before Wolfram and Hart had decided to have Angel’s soul ripped out. “Just a little. Removing a soul isn’t a pleasant thing.”


“They tipped the balance, didn’t they?” A smile tugged at her lips. At least Angel hadn’t suffered.


“That they did.” He guided her hand over his chest and belly, purring softly. “Soul Boy was the deciding factor. If he fought for good, then good wins.”


“And if you fought for evil, then evil wins.” She pulled her hand away. Ignored his disappointed pout.


“Actually… no.” He laughed, remembering. “The senior partners expected me to be grateful for being let loose.”


“And you’re not?”


“Oh I was. I thanked them.” A grin bared his teeth. “After I killed them all.”


“So why did they still win?” If Angelus hadn’t joined the fight, then how did it all go wrong?


“Seems all they needed to do was get rid of him. He doesn’t fight for good, then good loses.” He stood up. “Of course, nobody said they’d be around to enjoy the day after. Hope they didn’t invest too much in those prophecies.”


When his hands slid around her waist, she knew it was time for the fun to start. How long would he play with her before he killed her? And why didn’t she care?


Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed. "Relax. It'll only hurt for a moment, lover." He set her on the bed, knelt next to her, and gently pushed her back. 


The cool silk lining cradled her as he loomed over her. "Just one question – about Angel – I won't ask anymore."


Jealousy. The rat eating, Barry Manilow loving, no fashion sense weakling was still in his way.


"Did he still love me?"  Her voice was the merest whisper.


He flipped a mental coin. Flipped it again when he didn't like it. Considered going best three out of five. Her heartbeat pounded in his skull. "He never stopped."


"Thank you." A peace settled over her. She reached up to touch his face. 


"His last thought was of you." Slowly. Slowly, he let his face change. Pulling her up, he rubbed her nose with his own. "And my first."


Buffy cried out softly as Angelus laid her back on the bed in Angel's old apartment and sank his fangs into her throat.


Agony and ecstasy. Cliché or not, it was true, so very true. Agony as the cool, thick fangs pushed deeper into her body. Ecstasy as streams of fire poured through her body. A shriek of pain fought with a scream of pleasure, forcing her mouth open in silence.


Her hands clutched at his shoulders, pulling him closer. The pain faded completely as his fangs settled into the artery and he began to suckle from her. 


It was good. So very good. She held him closer, sliding a leg up over his hip and urging him against her. One big hand cupped her mound, fingers pressing up into her and triggering fresh, repeated orgasm.


She felt weak suddenly. Her hands slipped from his shoulders. Opening her eyes, she blinked at the gray fog. His warm fangs slid from her throat, and she whimpered at the emptiness.


Lifting his lips from her throat, he brushed a kiss across her lips. With his fingernail, he made a cut on his throat above his own jugular, which now pulsed with her blood.


Blood trickled out, and he quickly lifted her mouth to it to feed her his blood and hers mixed together. If the Master was right, he was passing on the blood of the first true vampire. 


Not that he cared what old Rat Face thought. He just wanted to turn Buffy. He rubbed her lips across the cut. She was limp in his embrace for another moment before her arms lifted and went around his shoulders once again.


Feeding was almost like sex, given the right circumstances, but being fed from was even better. His cock ached as she began to grind against him once more. If she had fangs to plunge into him – it'd be fucking orgasmic. 


Bittersweet. Another cliché proved true. There was a tart bitterness underlying it, but his blood was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted. Better than chocolate and peanut butter – even sweeter than Angel's kisses. 


He was moaning and moving against her, one hand cupping and squeezing her breast before moving down between their bodies. 


There was fumbling and grunting, and she realized he was unbuttoning his pants. The image of him stroking his cock aroused her, and she suckled harder at his throat, swallowing the sweet, powerful blood.


She drank as much of him as she could, while he moaned and stroked himself against her belly. There was a cool gush and a harsh growl as he stilled against her.


There was a tugging, familiar feeling – a pull at her being. And another, stranger feeling – something growing within her.


The pulling was something she’d felt before. Escaping her body to go somewhere safe and warm. Her head fell back, and she could see him looking down at her with those beautiful chocolate eyes. Then he began to fall away until he was gone.


It was warm, and she could feel them around her. Welcoming her. Willow and Xander. Her mother was there. Then a strong, loving presence. Angel. He wrapped himself around her and they spun about, merging their halves back into the whole they had once been.


He ran a finger over her smiling lips. Her eyes were green and wide open as if she saw something beyond him. “Sleep, lover.” Dipping his head down, he brushed a kiss across her slack, bloody lips.


Pulling his coat up around her, he held her to him, cradling her to his body in the bed where she’d come to life and now where she’d come to death.





It was tight. Boundaries. Form. It was scared, bouncing off the boundaries of the form. Dark. Alone. Boundaries/form?


Sound. Sound from outside boundaries/form. Fear of unknown/it/other made it search boundaries/form again for a way out.


Feel. Feel of unknown/it/other on boundaries/form. It was afraid of unknown/it/other. 


Sound. Good sound. Unknown/it/other making sounds. The sounds soothed, and it slowed the frantic search for a way out.


Feel. Good feel from unknown/it/other. Good feel on boundaries/form. Soothing.


A concept came to it. Unknown/it/other was known. Self but not self. Same but not same. Creator? Maker? A spark in the darkness of boundaries/form. Sire? Sire… Sire!


It tried to speak to sire and say it was afraid. No sound came from boundaries/form. Frustrated, it tried to move boundaries/form. Nothing. Trapped in darkness!


Wailing, it rushed through boundaries/form. Up/down/across/back, nothing moved. Trapped! Trapped in darkness!


Another sound from sire. Soothing. Comforting. More feeling along boundaries/form.


It moved to the part of boundaries/form closest to sire. Sire wasn’t afraid. Boundaries/form began to feel safe.


More sounds. Not from sire. Rattle/scratch/grate sound. Unknown/it/other? Terrible sound from sire that made it crouch in fear. Rumble/thunder.


Unknown/it/other sound stopped. Moved farther away.


It sighed in the darkness of boundaries/form. Safe now. Sire would protect it.


It? Me? I? Who am I? Who am I? Frightened again, it tried to move boundaries/form again, crying out in terror. Who am I?


As if sensing its fear, sire made more of the soft sounds. One dropped into the dark and lit a spark. Buffy.


It? Me? Buffy? Me? More sparks. Pleasure, pain, fangs, blood, fear. It whimpered at the spark pictures. Found, hiding, running, fighting. The spark pictures began to fill up boundaries/form.


AngelAngelusMotherGilesWillowXanderDawnfightingdyinglovinglivingdyingslaying – an endless stream that made it scream in silent agony.


The spark pictures slowed and stopped.


Buffy. I am Buffy.


Next to her, she could hear his false breaths, feel them stir through her hair. His big hands rubbed up and down her back, and his cool lips brushed her face and lips from time to time.


Angelus! Her mouth wouldn’t open. She tried to touch him but her hands wouldn’t move. She couldn’t move her body at all. Angelus! Help me!


As if sensing her fear, he murmured softly to her. “Buffy…” His lips touched hers gently.


It would be okay. He wasn’t afraid. They were safe. She relaxed and tried to focus on moving.


She could hear rain and thunder and smell the vanilla of the candles, the oil used to soften the leather, his distinctive earthy scent.  His lips were soft, the silk of his shirt teased her breasts and belly, and the air seemed to touch her cheek.


How long she tried to move, she wasn’t sure. It happened suddenly. Her face felt strange, and she growled as it seemed to crawl and shift. Her body responded, and she lurched upright.


The light hurt her eyes and the dust made her sneeze.


“Hello, lover.”


Turning, she looked at him. He was smiling. Smirking that evil smirk of his. She launched herself at him with a growl.


He fell back as she hit him in the chest. Her lips crushed his, and she kissed him passionately, unaware of her sharp fangs. He kissed her back, not caring that his lips were cut and bleeding.


She pushed him onto his back and crawled up to sit astride his hips. Tasting the blood, she licked at his mouth and kissed him again, more carefully this time. He tasted good! “Mine!”


“Yes, baby.” He laughed as she pushed her tongue into his mouth again. Sliding his hands down her back, he squeezed her ass, pulling her against his hard cock.


There was a gnawing ache in her middle. Sitting up, she clutched at her stomach. “Hungry.”


“I’d have went out and killed someone for you, but I didn’t want to leave you alone.” It had been a very real danger as it turned out. Someone or something had tracked her here and had left only after he’d made his presence known.


He reached a hand up to stroke her ridged forehead. She closed her eyes and nuzzled his hand. “Do you want to go hunt?”


“Yes!” She scrambled off the bed and headed for the door. “Hunt! Hungry!”


“Whoa! Wait a second!” He caught her arm and pulled her back around. “Let’s button you up first.”


She shifted impatiently while he fastened her bra and buttoned up her shirt. “Hungry.”


“I know.” He kissed her hard. “Me too.”


“You want to fuck.” She giggled. “Hunt first.”


He led her outside, holding her wrist to keep her from running. There were still dangers to vamps. Stupid humans who held out hope that they could take the world back. Stupider demons who thought they could help the humans. He didn’t want her to get staked two steps outside the door. The only stake she was getting impaled on was his.


There were places to hunt, places where people still thought the world was normal. Even in Sunnydale, they never learned. A couple was sitting just outside a small house. The house had wards painted on it and cold iron banding the door. And yet they were outside on the porch necking.


He smirked. More necking than they bargained for here in a minute. Tugging her back when she would have run up to them, he motioned for her to go to the far end of the porch. The pout was even sexier with her game face on, and he stole a quick kiss.


Skirting the light from the lamp on the porch, he leaped over the railing and roared at the couple. He stood between them and the door, leaving them no choice but to run the other way.


Buffy grabbed the woman as she scrambled off the far end of the porch. Immediately, she sank her fangs into the woman’s throat and gulped down the hot sweet blood.


The woman’s boyfriend snatched up a stick from the ground and aimed it at Buffy’s back. Angelus grabbed the man’s arm and snapped it. “No, no. She’s just playing.”


Shrieking, the man fell to the ground and clutched his broken arm. He tried to crawl away but a boot on his back forced him face down in the dirt.


Angelus watched her, reveling in her ferocity. She was growling and shaking the woman as she fed from her. The woman was limp, almost dead, hanging from her grasp. Buffy snorted suddenly, spraying blood over her prey’s face.


A typical fledgling mistake, she’d bitten through the woman’s windpipe. He smiled as she gulped and snorted and gulped some more. He’d made the same mistake himself a time or two.


She was biting deeper, not realizing the woman was dead and her heart was no longer beating. Kicking the man aside, he went to her. When she backed away and growled, he stopped, aghast. “No growling at Daddy.”


Growling and dragging her prey backwards, she shook her head again. She was still hungry.


Buffy. No growling at Daddy.” He stalked up to her and glared down into her eyes.


Something made her want to cower. She didn’t like his anger. Throwing the body aside, she reached out for his hands. “Sorry. I’m so hungry.”


“I know, baby.” He kissed her, licking the woman’s blood from her lips. “There’s more here.”


She pulled away and pounced on the man. Jerking his head back, she plunged her fangs into his throat eagerly. He cried out and stiffened.


Walking over to her, Angelus saw that she’d learned and avoided the windpipe this time. “Good girl.” His smile faded when she growled at him. “Buffy…”


He moved closer, ignoring her growls, until he could dip his head down and bite into the other side of the man’s throat. Her hand came up to touch his face, and her golden eyes lit up. They fed, Buffy stroking his face and hair, until they were full.


“See there? That was fun, wasn’t it?” He licked at the blood on her lips. “Sharing is good.”


“It was nice.” It had made her hot and wet to watch him suckle their prey’s blood just inches from where she was doing the same. “Very nice.”


“Listen to me.” He took her face in his hand and tipped her head up to look her in the eye. “Don’t ever growl at me again. I promise you’ll never go hungry. Not with me.”


“Can I growl in bed?” She pressed herself against him.


“That you can do.” He laughed and patted her ass.  “The sooner the better.”


“I need new clothes.” Fingering the bloodstained shirt, she frowned. “And a bath. I stink.”


“I know just the place.” Looping his arm around her shoulders, he guided her down the street, leaving the two bodies where they lay.





She pushed the door open and walked inside. "Hey, Mom! I'm home!" She giggled. "Oh, that's right – you're dead."


He closed the door behind them. There was a small crystal on the doorjamb. Studying it, he recognized it as one that would alert the caster to a human presence. He ignored it. "Like it mattered when she was alive?"


"Too true." She wished her mom was alive so she could kill her. 


Angelus flipped the light switch, and not unexpectedly, nothing happened. As he recalled, she had plenty of candles in her room. Not that he couldn't find his way around this house blindfolded.


"Should still be water." She said as she started upstairs. "There was the last time I was here."


She pulled off her clothes as she went, tossing the dirty items over the railing. At the landing, she stopped and leaned against him for balance as she kicked off her shoes and pulled off her socks.


As they sailed over the railing, she turned and started up the stairs once more. Unfastening her pants, she shimmied out of them. The panties followed, and he found himself with an eyeful of naked backside as she reached the top step. He patted it appreciatively.


“Wait, I need to be clean.” She turned and kissed him, lapping at his cool mouth with her tongue. “Umm… I want to lick you all over.”


“Me too, baby.” He cupped her ass and pulled her hard against him. “You clean up and I’ll lick you up like ice cream.”


“Deal.” Turning she sauntered toward the bathroom. “Light some candles? I want to see your face when I fuck you to death.”


“That’s my girl.” Laughing, he went into her room and lit several candles. He picked up a handful of others and carried them to the bathroom. Setting them along the sink and counter, he lit them, creating a golden glow in the steamy room.


“Thank God there’s hot water.”


Sitting on the edge of the counter, he watched the outline of her body through the shower curtain as she bathed. “Be sure to get behind your ears.”


“I bet my ears aren’t what you’re wanting to lick.”


“They’re a start.” He began a mental list of lickable spots.


“Why didn’t you rape me?”


The question caught him off guard. “What?”


“Why didn’t you rape me?” She rubbed a handful of vanilla scented suds down her belly. “Didn’t you want me?”


“Of course I wanted you. You were hurt.” You do a girl a favor…


“And now?” She pulled the curtain open, the green eyes full of mischief. “Do you want me now?”


She was gloriously naked, soap bubbles sliding down her breasts and belly. His cock had already taken an interest in the shadowy movements behind the curtain but this made it stand up and salute. “Oh my God, yes.”


“Then come on in.” Stepping back, she let the water pour down over her and rinse the soap away. “The water’s fine.”


His clothes hit the floor within one of his non existent heartbeats. Stepping into the shower, he pushed her against the tiled wall and brought his lips down to hers.


She raised her legs up around his waist, arching her back as he shoved his cock into her. A soft keen came from her throat as he began pumping hard. Her fingers tangled into his hair and held him to her as their tongues battled trying to force their way into the other’s mouth.


Pulling back, he slid his game face on and plunged his fangs into her throat. Hot fire ate through his belly and into his cock as he pushed himself deeper inside of her.


She threw her head back and shrieked both in pain and pleasure.  The pull on her blood was pure sex. Her head hit the tile wall, and she laughed.


Laughing wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He stopped and lifted his head to look at her. Blinking the water out of his eyes, he frowned at her. “Tell me you’re not laughing at me.”


“No.” She laughed again and ran her hands over his chest and shoulders. “I bonked my head.”


“I’ll bonk your head.” Grinning, he began pumping hard and deeper, slamming her into the wall with each thrust. She still laughed as she kissed and nibbled along his neck and shoulders. The water had lent its heat to her body, and he could imagine that this was how she would have felt if he had fucked her before he’d turned her. Hot and slick and tight.


Her head did hit the wall again as her body responded to the hard strokes. Inside, her inner walls clamped down on the thick, straining cock and tried to hold it within her. Drops of rapture rained down until she was drowning in it. Holding tightly to him, she cried out again as he ground himself into her.


“Baby – fuck yes – “ He licked at the blood trickling from the wound in her throat as his balls clenched up and forced his seed into her. His last thrusts were weak as she stole his strength. “Fuck yes – “


Letting her legs down, she reached past him and shut the cooling water off. They leaned against each other for support for a few moments, nuzzling and kissing until they could step out of the shower.


“Now that we’re clean – “ He lifted her into his arms. “Let’s go get all dirty.”


“Lick me first.” She nipped at his ear as he carried her down the hallway.


“Oh I intend to, lover.”





“You should have seen it. Willow’s brains were splattered all over the wall and the headboard. It was so cool.”


“Umm hmmm…” He reclined on the bed, watching her go through her closet in search of something to wear. Half her wardrobe had hit the floor as non-acceptable.


“Then I saved Dawn from him. Stupid me.” She rubbed a purple shirt against her cheek before tossing it on the floor. “Xander’s head bounced down the stairs.” Frowning, she turned to him. “Why did I feel bad about that?”


“You were different then.” The explanation seemed to be enough, and she went back to sorting through her clothes. She was wearing nothing more than a matching pink bra and panties and as she stretched and bent, he was rewarded with glimpses of smooth golden skin.


“You know, I saved Dawn and I felt bad.” Tossing a black dress over her shoulder she laughed. “Felt bad about what they did to her. Why? It was great!”


He listened with half an ear while she described her sister’s torture and death. Typical demon gang bang. Been there, seen that, done a few. He was more of a one on one kind of guy. The terror wore off with sheer numbers. She leaned down to look at a pair of shoes, and he rose up as her breasts jiggled perilously close to the edge of the pink satin holding them in. It hadn’t given way yet, but he could hope.


Not that he hadn’t seen plenty of her bare titties. They had fucked themselves into exhaustion before sleeping the day away in her bed. Another shower, until the hot water had run out, and they were ready to hit the town. He’d dressed quickly and lain back on the bed to watch her. The room smelled pleasantly of sex, blood, and vanilla, and his cock was hard even before she’d started her search for the perfect outfit.


“Oh, feel!”


He let her rub the suede vest against his cheek, smiling and patting her hip as he did so. She’d brought him dozens of items to feel and to look at, amazed at how different the world was to her. He remembered his own fascination with such things as a fledgling.


That thought made him frown. Darla hadn’t been nearly so indulgent nor patient with him. She’d rather he fucked her than explored the new world he'd found himself in. Often times she’d slapped away what he was offering to her. He shook his head. His sire was dead and dust and he wasn’t sorry.




He looked up to see her standing over him, concern in her gray eyes. “Nothing baby. A bad thought that’s gone.”


“Good.” She smiled and leaned down to kiss him.


Finally settling on a low cut green velvet shirt and a tight leather mini skirt, one she’d bought and then never dared to wear, she sat down to pull on a pair of black boots. “You’re not Angel.”


“No, I’m not.” Where was this going?


“I – it’s mixed up. I feel bad about things then good.” She didn’t look up from lacing her boots, concentrating on the leather laces as if they held the mysteries of life. Or unlife in this case. “I love him and I hate him. He’s you but not.”


“I understand.” When he first risen, he’d been confused about his memories. He’d loved and hated his family. Wanted to kill them and to save them. “It takes a little time to sort it all out. You’re free now to feel the way you want and not the way they wanted you to.”


“He left me. He should have stayed.” She finished lacing and stood up.


“If he had then you know what would have happened.” He sat up as she walked to him. “He’d have given in one night, fucked your brains out, and I’d have been free.”


“Why didn’t he see that would have been good?” Sliding her fingers into his hair, she pulled his head to her breasts. “All those bad things would never have happened.”


It was hard to think with her soft skin where he could kiss it. Sliding his tongue along the tops of her breasts, he blew cool air along the wet trail, making her shiver. “Other bad things would have happened. I’d have turned you and then your so called friends would have stuffed your soul back and mine so we could both be miserable.”


“Hmm…. True.” She pulled his head back and leaned down to kiss him softly and gently. “Timing is everything.”


Now he was the one to shiver as she nipped his bottom lip. Hard enough to sting but not hard enough to draw blood. What fun they were going to have.


“I want to call you Angel.” She nipped at his lip again. “Angelus is such a mouthful.”


“As long as – “ He sucked in a breath as she dropped to her knees and began to unbutton his pants. “You don’t think – “ Her cool mouth surrounded him, and he clutched her head to him, winding his fingers into the honey blond hair.


When she’d found out that the gag reflex was no longer an issue, she’d been happy to suck him as far down as she could. Not that she couldn’t deep throat him anyway, but now there was no need to relax her throat and work up to it. Happily, she rubbed her nose against him and let him force her head down while he arched up and pumped into her mouth.


Squeezing his balls with one hand, she pushed the other up under his shirt to tease his nipples, pinching them until he growled. Using her teeth and tongue, she worked him until he was moaning and whimpering, helplessly squirming on the bed while she slipped his cock in and out of her mouth.


The cool gush of seed was swallowed ravenously, and she crawled up his body to kiss him after licking up the last precious drops. His mouth was open as he panted for unneeded air, and she took advantage of the situation, thrusting her tongue in to share the taste with him.


It wasn’t his thing, that had been Soul Boy, but the taste of himself inside of her was too much to resist and he found himself sucking her tongue and lapping at her mouth. Maybe there was something to this true love stuff after all.


“See there? Angelus is a big mouthful.” She laughed and tossed her head back as she sat up. “I want to call you Angel.”


Hell, she could call him Clyde after that display of skill. Sitting up, he kissed her again, hard, giving her a sharp nip. “Just remember who you’re with.”


“Wouldn’t want Daddy all angry.” Sucking her stinging lip, she climbed down off his lap. “Ready to blow this joint?”


“After you, baby.” He helped her pull on Angel’s old black leather jacket and followed her out the door. On the way, whimsy made him snatch the pink pig off the dresser and stuff it in his coat pocket.





The Bronze was packed. Loud music blasted out the door where a bouncer stood waiting to bounce those not cool enough to enter. He held up a scaled hand to stop Angelus. And found the hand dangling from a broken wrist.


Inside, Angelus stopped and looked around. Demons were dancing and playing pool. Some were snacking on humans that were chained to various posts and poles about the club. Suspended from the ceiling were cages with humans in them waiting their turn to play. Terror floated through the air, and he sniffed it appreciatively.




He turned to see a vamp approaching, dragging a crying woman. “Samuel? Is that you?”


“The one and only!” He let the girl go and threw an arm around Angelus. “Good to see you. It’s been what – a hundred years? A hundred and change?”


“Milan back in ’78?” He smiled. “That little villa?”


“All those pretty daughters that noble bastard had?” He licked his lips at the memory. “That was – “ Samuel noticed who was standing next to Angelus for the first time. “Is that the Slayer?”


“The Slayer?” Someone nearby echoed. A hush fell over the demonic crowd. Even the band stopped their crazed playing.


Buffy arched an eyebrow at Samuel. Then she let her face shift. “Bite me, asshole.”


Angelus hugged Buffy and laughed. She let her face change back and rose up on tiptoe to kiss him.


Samuel’s jaw dropped open. “You turned the Slayer? Man, that’s supposed to be impossible!”


“Just never been tried by the right vamp.” She snuggled into Angelus’ side and stared down the curious vamps and demons who were trying to get closer. “I’m hungry.”


“Here.” Samuel pulled the girl up from the floor, and she shrieked in fear. “Only had a nibble.”


“Eww!” Her nose wrinkled up. “Like I want leftovers.”


Angelus followed her as she went to one of the cages. She pointed at one of the captives. “You want that one, baby?”


“Yes. I think he’s a friend.”


One of the waiters opened the cage and pulled out the human she had pointed at. “A bit on the small side.”


“An appetizer.” She smiled down at him. “Wow, how long has it been since you tried to kill me?”


“That – that was Warren – “ Jonathan stumbled backwards as she advanced on him. “I wasn’t really onboard with that plan.”


“Not what I remember.” She reached out and grabbed a handful of his filthy shirt.


“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” He cried out as her face morphed into that of the demon living inside of her. “Please! I didn’t mean it!”


“And I care?” She pulled him to her, wrenching his head to one side and plunging her fangs viciously into his throat. Guzzling the sweet, fear loaded blood down, she reached out for Angelus.


He caught her hand and pressed himself up against her back, nuzzling her hair and kissing her cheek. She’d learned quickly. This kill was neat and tidy, not a drop going to waste. The body fell at her feet, and she turned in his arms to press her stained lips to his.


The music had started back up, and the patrons were once again involved in small talk, torture, and dancing.  Samuel led them to a table against one wall that had a good view of the dance floor and both doors. “Have a seat. Waiter!” He turned back to Angelus. “Still like whiskey?”


“Irish.” He slid into the booth and slung an arm around Buffy’s shoulders as she settled next to him, curving into her old place as if she’d never left.


“Of course.” Samuel hurried off to get Angelus’ whiskey himself. Snatching a bottle and glasses from the bar, he ran back and poured a shot.


“Now what do we do?” Buffy licked the last of what’s his name off her lips. She could see other vamps staring at them like they were celebrities. Maybe we are? Majorly cool.


“Take our place at the top of the food chain, baby.” Resting his chin on her head, he raised the shot glass in salute to the crying humans in their cages.


“Can we dance first?”


Laughing, he tipped her head back and kissed her long and hard. “Anything you want, baby.”


Pulling her out of the booth, he led her onto the dance floor. The crowd parted for them and when he reached the center, Angelus snuggled her into his body. “Everything you want.” Swaying with the music, he lowered his lips to hers once again.




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