Unwanted Passions, Chapter 7

Author’s Notes: Set during BtVS season 2.

Warning: Reminder – this is for mature audiences only. This is a dark story with adult language, explicit sex, little to no plot. Angelus is nicer, but he’s still not that nice. And we have Spike, who’s not at all nice either (remember, evil vampires did at one time exist in Sunnydale.)

Xander’s near to getting what he *really* deserves (I promise!) Just a friendly warning – if you’re a Xander fan, you will not like this.

Dedication: To Susan – for reading my stories and always sending such sweet feedback! Oh, and the occasional polite inquiry about this story – which reminds me that I should finish it! Thanks so much! *grin*

The bath scene is inspired by a similar scene in Susan Johnson’s “A Touch of Sin”.

BtVS Quote from ‘THE PACK’ : ” Dangerous and mean, right? Like Angel. Your mystery guy. Well, guess who just got mean.” — Xander

Rating: Very much Adult; explicit sex, rape, coercion, blood play.

Disclaimer: Own nothing. All belongs to Joss, ME, Fox, et.al.

Pairing: B/Aus, includes W/S.

Distribution: My site, EverySixSeconds; sites currently with permission to host my fics; all others please ask.

Originally posted: Nov 25, 2002

Xander waited outside Buffy’s house until nearly 2 am before giving up and going home. He was cold, irritated and disgruntled – the long wait reversing his opinion that he should warn the Slayer about anything he might have heard. At least that’s what he told himself as he grumbled and made his way home. It ate at him bitterly. How could she give everything – her loyalty, her heart, her body – to that monster?

Had he the slightest ability for introspection, Xander would have realized that he was jealous. Jealous of Angel, now Angelus, and his relationship with Buffy, the girl that he himself wanted.

Xander’s feelings of anger and envy grew as he thought of Angelus’s hands on Buffy, touching her intimately. The vision of Buffy’s leg over Angelus’s shoulder as he knelt in front of her at the cemetery flashed through his mind, vivid and lascivious. He could hear her soft panting cries as Angelus had his way with her. Why couldn’t that be him? Why wouldn’t she give him the same thing that she gave that- that demon? He kicked at the rock on the sidewalk, cursing when his toe throbbed in pain.

As luck would have it, of course, Xander had left his stakeout at Buffy’s house minutes before Buffy and Willow arrived after their run in with Spike and Angelus in the cemetery. He had just turned the corner out of sight when they came around from the opposite direction. And it was one of those times when a few minutes would make all the difference in changing fate.

By the time he reached his house, Xander had practically convinced himself that Buffy owed him something. And he knew just what it was he’d demand from her. If she liked it rough, if she wanted a man that wouldn’t take no for an answer – he’d show her that he could be that man. He’d tell her what he heard – once she put out for him. Xander smiled now, a leering cruel smile, his hand stroking his cock through his jeans as he thought of the things he’d make her do. In the next second he came, shooting his seed in his pants as he jerked off just outside his house. The porch light came on and Xander’s mom looked out the window. She frowned in disapproval at the site of Xander, his hand on his wet crotch. Flipping the light off, she sighed heavily and went back to bed.

– – – – –

“Nothing on the ritual?” Jenny rubbed Giles’s shoulders as he leaned over yet another huge volume, tense and worried.

“No.” He was short, his words tense and angry. In the five hours since they had arrived back at his place, he’d been going through the Codex, along with any and all other Slayer folklore that he could get his hands on.

“So, are you going to tell her?” Her hands stopped, resting on his shoulders.

“And say what, exactly?” Giles leaned back and took Jenny’s hand, caressing it absently as he sat his glasses down on the table. Running his hand over his eyes, he sighed wearily.

“You could warn her about what Angelus intends.”

“We don’t know what he intends. We only know what the council suspects.” Giles picked up his glasses again, his expression thoughtful as he cleaned them.

“So what now?” Jenny moved to sit beside him.

“We keep looking. We either need to find the ritual or perhaps something in the slayer prophecies that predicts this.” He sighed and handed Jenny a book.

– – – – –

Buffy arrived at Angelus’s apartment at dusk, just as he had asked. Walking toward the door she once again told herself that it was purely to keep her part of their bargain, it wasn’t about her own shameful lust for him or the fact that she loved him. Her mind balked at that. She couldn’t love him – the demon, the vampire. It was wrong in so many ways. And yet…

Quickly shifting her thoughts to less emotionally entangled topics, she wondered again why Giles had so mysteriously shooed her out of the library today. He was obviously preoccupied and seemed not to want her around. Was it because he now knew about her involvement with Angelus? Was he – disappointed in her or worse? With the exception of Willow, her friends seemed to condemn her for her involvement with Angelus. Giles had never said – but did he also feel that way? Buffy sighed, once again pushing away those thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. As she crossed the threshold, she jettisoned all of those thoughts. Her body temperature increased, as if detecting the presence of her mate and she felt a keen sense of anticipation.

Angelus had been sitting, reading and waiting for her to arrive. Earlier he had begun the first of the three steps of the ritual – combining the various ingredients in a cauldron along with a few drops of his own blood. The completion of the step required intimate contact and Angelus could think of nothing he’d like better…

At the first sight of her, he came to his feet in a swift, graceful flow of motion. He was wearing the trademark leather pants along with a burgundy velvet shirt, which was carelessly half buttoned giving her a glimpse of his abdomen.

“Come here.” He held out his hand and waited as she walked toward him, her feet moving as if no longer in her control. He had that affect on her. He watched her approach him, his dark gaze taking on a predatory cast.

She inhaled, the raw sexuality in his eyes further stirring her own desire. Even now, though they had been together several times, she had no idea what to expect. He was moody and temperamental – and not easy for her to read, not that he ever had been. With her eyes trained on his face, she studied him. His expression was shuttered, in no way giving away his thoughts. There was the faint smell of smoke and burning herbs in the air and Buffy looked curiously at the items strewn on the table wondering what he had been doing earlier.

When she reached him, he sat back down and pulled her into his lap. Buffy sat with perfect posture, nervously upright and still attempting to gauge his mood. His closeness was doing dangerous things to her libido, her sense of concentration.

Angelus’s eyes roamed over her, taking in the pale yellow top and burgundy skirt. He was assessing her. He could sense her hesitation, the faintest fear and arousal mingling with the delicate scent of vanilla. His erection stirred under her bottom. “Your timing is perfect, lover.”

Buffy shifted, lifting one hand to rest it on his arm. After a minute hesitation, she slid it up to his shoulder. “And?”

“I’ve been waiting for you.” He would never admit it, but he savored her willing touch. The lightest stroke on his arm aroused him more than the most flagrantly sexual act that Druscilla had ever performed for him.

“Really?” She whispered, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing closer, his words gave her confidence, courage. When she had touched him, the spark of desire swirling within her flared hot. She squirmed in his lap, pressing down harder.

“Really.” He growled softly, lifting her easily to sit facing away from him. He brushed her hair aside, his lips latching on her neck as his hands cupped her breasts. With a deft movement, he jerked the camisole top down breaking the straps.

“Dammit.” Buffy muttered, having more torn clothes to have to explain to her Mom or fix before she saw them.

“Nice.” Angelus ignored her comment as he eyed her bra-clad breasts over her shoulder, pulling her back against his chest tightly for a better view. Her matching pale yellow underwire bra pushed her breasts into high, swelling mounds, the lace cups straining against the flesh. His thumbs brushed the outline of her nipples pressing against the material. “I love your tits, Buff, your hard little pink nipples.”

Positioning her so that her legs were outside his, he moved his legs spreading her thighs wider. With a sudden movement, her pulled her skirt up. His tongue licked her neck, tracing the pulsing vein beneath the skin. He sucked, leaving a faint purple mark of passion.

“And your pretty blond pussy…” His voice dropped to a whisper, his erection stirring, pressing hard against her bottom. Intensely aware of his readiness, Buffy whimpered softly. Had she really become so wanton that only a few touches from him, a few whispered words and she was wet and ready? Her desire for him seemed to be more acute, more intense than ever.

“You’re dripping wet and I haven’t even touched you yet.” Echoing her thoughts, Angelus ran his finger up her thigh, capturing the fluid dripping while she shivered under his touch. Angelus knew that the spell he had performed earlier would have made her more susceptible to him, increasing their desire. “You want my cock, don’t you?”

Buffy nodded, a barely perceptible movement, as another whimper escaped her lips. Her head dropped back to rest against his shoulder, her hands gripping the arms of the chair. Buffy rotated her hips, thrusting hard into the rigid cock nestled against her.

“Look at how wet you are.” When she didn’t respond, Angelus gripped her chin and forced her head down. Her eyes opened briefly and she looked down at her spread legs. One of his large hands was splayed across her stomach, his other hand dropped from her chin to return to the dampness on her inner thigh. Sliding two fingers under the crotch of her panties, he brushed across her dewy wetness.

“You’re ready to be fucked, aren’t you?” He murmured softly against her ear, his tongue snaking out to trace the lobe before he bit down.

She nodded, obviously this time, biting her lip to suppress a moan.

Angelus smiled a feral smile, her obvious passion stirring blatantly carnal feelings of lust within him, along with possession, ownership. He wanted her like this for him, always.

“Your nipples are so hard.” He traced the outline of the lace with his fingertips, leaving her sticky wetness on the mounded flesh. He rubbed her nipple though the lace. He pinched it hard in his fingers. “Maybe I should suck them.”

Buffy drew in a small breath at the streaking heat and increased sweet, throbbing ache between her thighs that his words provoked.

He pulled the lace down and gripped the taut peaks between his fingers. The tips hardened even more under his attentions as he pinched and tugged, twisted and toyed while Buffy panted and moaned in his arms. When she arched into his hands, he pulled away, stretching her flesh tight under the pressure.

Buffy moaned, feeling as if she were going to come with his touch alone. He had not even kissed her…

“Please…” She whispered, reaching up and back with one arm to circle his neck.

Angelus knew what she wanted. It was what he wanted as well. He pushed her off his lap. “Take off your panties so I’ll have access to your cunt.”

She should have taken issue with his bluntness, his coarse words. But they only increased the throbbing between her legs.

“Do you need help?” Angel murmured, his voice low and velvety.

Buffy looked over her shoulder at him. He was swiftly unbuttoning the leather pants. She shook her head as she reached to unzip her skirt.

“Hurry and I’ll give you this, Buff.” He drew out his erection, forcing it away from his body. His hand moved with practiced ease over the enormous length as her eyes watched, mesmerized.

Her panties followed her skirt to the floor. When she moved to straddle him, he turned her to face away from him again. With one hand under her bottom, he guided his cock to the damp cleft between her legs.

Buffy’s eyes were closed, her body taut with expectation.

Angelus lowered her, her hot channel engulfing him. When he was fully sheathed, Buffy released a small rapturous sob, a manifestation of her fevered longing for him. The sound reverberated in Angelus’s mind, his own desire for her acute, intense.

Buffy didn’t move as first because she couldn’t breathe. She had forgotten how big he was, how long and immense. How he filled her so perfectly. Taking a deep breath, she spread her legs wider, taking him deeper.

Angelus drew in an unneeded breath at the riveting friction, the scalding heat surrounding him. His voice, when he spoke was rough, insistent. “Now, lover, ride me.” He punctuated his words with a sharp slap on her behind.

Buffy ground her hips downward, wanting him with a deep and terrible craving.

Angelus braced his feet, surging upward with forceful pressure.

Buffy gasped, a small cry escaping her lips as his hands gripped her waist and lifted her. He forced her movements, setting the pace, fast and hard. She felt each and every stroke along her pulsating, fevered channel. Too quickly she felt the first orgasmic spark, the rippling convulsions beginning.

“No…” She whined, distraught and wanting more.

“Oh yes, lover.” Angelus licked his tongue across his teeth, feeling the morphing of his features. His hand slid down to the swollen and throbbing nub of pleasure between her legs, where their bodies joined. With expert manipulations, Angelus massaged her clit, squeezing it hard and sending her spiraling over the edge.

At the peak of her pleasure, Buffy clawed at him, her nails sinking into his hands, his forearms. He refused to give her even a moment’s respite, continued to plunge her downward even after the shuddering convulsions died out.

Buffy whimpered, gorged, crammed full and oversensitive as Angelus resumed his rhythm. His own urgency was building, his lust for Buffy ferociously single-minded.

She came again as he drove into her with barely restrained violence. Wrapping his hand in her hair, he pulled her head back and to the side, baring her neck even as she turned her head for him in submission. He arched his back and sank his fangs into her neck, lifting them both from the chair when he poured his own ejaculation into her, a hoarse growl emanating from him. For endless fevered moments, he forgot who he was, he forgot where he was, forgot everything but the wild pulsing orgasm jolting his body, each spasm pouring through him with such shocking intensity that he shut his eyes against the agonizing pleasure.

Buffy stirred long moments later, Angelus licking gently at the closing wound on her neck.

“You’re going to have to bite me somewhere else, you know.” Her voice was teasing, playful.

Angelus smiled, a leering and interested smile. His curiosity was peaked. “Really?” He stood, shifting her and lifting her in his arms.

“It’s hard to hide the hickeys and bite marks, you know.” She looped her arms around his neck.

“I see.” His lips lowered to hers as he carried them to his bed. He made no promises, but later than night they did explore a few additional options.

– – – – –

It had been three days since Xander had hatched his plan to make Buffy pay. Days spent watching her, wondering daily if she had spread her legs for that demon the night before. The thought of her warm and willing for Angelus ate at him constantly. He also noticed that she’d taken to wearing scarves and high neck clothing – that alone made him suspicious and angry. He tried following her twice, but she lost him easily, so he still had no idea where she went at night. He suspected Willow knew, but she had been cold to him and thus, no help.

As he watched Buffy laughing with Willow in class, he continually fantasized about all of the things he wanted to do to her, all the things he wanted her to do to him. He shifted on his chair, attempting to ease the ache of his stirring erection. Today was the day. He finally had a plan.

Buffy was surprised when Xander slipped her a note, asking her to meet him in the library after school. In the note he only said that he had some things to say to her, things that he needed to say in person. Privately.

When Buffy arrived in the library, she was surprised to find that Giles wasn’t around. He was almost always there. Xander knew, of course, that Giles had gone home. That was part of the plan. Xander had lied to Giles, telling him that Miss Calendar had mentioned that she needed to talk to him about something important. Someone to do with some men they talked with the other night.

Giles’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, but Xander only shrugged, his expression innocent. That’s all she told him, he repeated. He then sent Miss Calendar on a wild goose chase to the magic shop – having told her a similar, but twisted version of the same story. Not that he expected her to intervene, but one couldn’t be too careful.

When Buffy sat opposite him, Xander offered her a mocha, knowing that it was her favorite. She took it with some hesitation, wary and uncertain.

“Please.” Xander’s expression was earnest. “I know how much you like them. Consider it a peace offering.”

Buffy smiled tentatively in response, sliding the sweet drink closer. She took a sip – it was rich, chocolately and delicious. There was a surprising bitter aftertaste, though. She took another drink, her brows furrowing.

“Good?” Xander noted her expression and felt like slapping himself on the forehead. Could she taste it? He wasn’t sure how much of drug that he had stolen from Giles’s stash was needed to weaken her. He only understood a little bit of the Watcher’s Journal entry that he found describing the drug and some ritual that was used on a slayer’s 18th birthday. The ritual didn’t interest him, only the effects of the drug, so he hadn’t read the information carefully.

“Yummy. Thanks.” Buffy smiled at him, wanting to find someway to patch up their damaged friendship.

“So, Buff.” Watching her carefully, Xander began to speak. “I, uh, wanted to tell you that shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

“It’s okay, Xand. I know things are kind of confusing right now.” In their stalled conversation, Buffy had finished about half the drink.

“More than you think.” Xander sipped his own unaltered mocha, attempting to appear casual but his heart was racing. What if he hadn’t given her enough? He glanced at the clock, noting that it had been about half an hour now.

Buffy shook her head, feeling fuzzy and disoriented. She attempted to stand, but stumbled. “Wh-what?”

Xander smiled cruelly. It appeared to be working.

“Nothing.” He stood and came round the table to stand in front of her. He stepped closer, trapping her against the table.

Buffy feebly pushed him away, her strength rapidly dissipating. “Xander, what have you done?” She attempted to fight the effects of the drug, feeling too vulnerable to lose herself in the lazy fog but her attempts were ineffective. Her own voice sounded like it was coming from a distance.

“Well, Buff, that should be obvious. Since I’m a just a mortal, I had to even the playing field a bit so I could be the kind of guy you want.”

He grabbed her arms tightly and pressed his mouth against hers. His breath stank of garlic and the pizza he had for lunch. The sour smell of perspiration wafted up to her nose. She struggled weakly, the fast-acting drug effectively reducing her strength.

The pressure on her mouth increased and she was forced to open her lips and allow his tongue inside. Buffy wasn’t afraid yet, but she was angry. How dare he attempt to force himself on her? She reached up, her hands groping at his face. When she poked him in the eye, he drew back.

“Fuck.” His hand covered his eye as she attempted again to push him away. Without a second thought, he backhanded her hard across the face sending her sprawling to the ground.

– – – – –

Angelus paced restlessly, trapped by the sun. He had woken suddenly, his dreams interrupted by a crystal clear vision of Buffy. She appeared weak and disoriented and he knew immediately that she was in trouble.

He’d felt the connection to her after the first time he had fed off her, but with the beginning of the ritual, her bond to him had intensified. If Buffy had noticed it, she had not commented. And tonight he needed to complete the second of the three steps, following the directive of three days lapsed between each rite, making it even more critical that he find her.

As the sun slowly set, he continued to receive flashes of danger surrounding her. He growled in frustration, unable to help or intervene. He wasn’t even sure of the nature of the problem – only that his mate was threatened. He growled again, his eyes glinting gold as his features shifted.

– – – – –

“You bitch!” Xander knelt over Buffy where she lay still sprawled on the floor. He grabbed her hair jerking her head off the floor. “You think you’re too good for me don’t you?”

“N-n-n-no…” Buffy could barely get the word out, the haze surrounding her and the pain shooting through her head making it difficult to concentrate.

“Angel. Angel. Angel. All I heard for months was that mother-fucker’s name. Watching you pant after him like a bitch in heat, while you acted like the rest of us were dirt. Well, how do you feel now, princess?” With one hand Xander grabbed her shirt, ripping it down the front to expose her bra.

“No.” She pushed at him, struggling weakly. “Xander, stop.”

“So, was it worth it, huh? Must be quite somethin’ to be such a good fuck you can make a monster lose his soul.” Jerking her bra, he tore it away from her. “Guess I’ll get to find out, huh?”

Buffy shrank back from him, wanting to cover her nakedness but Xander refused to release her. His eyes drank her naked flesh in greedily, darkening with anger at the bite marks evident on her breasts.

“You fucking whore. You let that-that *vampire* bite you there?! Bet you never told your watcher about your perverted little habit, now did you?” His voice was incredulous, then spiteful. His hand circled her breast, squeezing cruelly. “Or is it that you like the pain, Buff? Want me to hurt you? Does that get you off?”

Buffy whimpered, closing her eyes. She reached out with her hand, groping for something, anything that would help her.

“Look at me!” Xander screeched, slapping her hard, her head snapping back against the floor.

– – – – –

Angelus was snarling now and running, his long legged strides taking him rapidly through the Sunnydale sewers as repeated visions of Buffy flashed through his mind.

He had chanced a mad dash through the sunlight to the nearest sewer access, unable to wait any longer with disturbing sensation that Buffy was in danger hanging over him.

Buffy grabbed the pencil that she found on the floor, gripping it tightly in her hand. One good shot and she’d at least buy herself some time. She clenched it in her fist waiting for the right opportunity.

Xander’s pushed her skirt up. He could feel the increased throbbing in his cock as he was nearing his goal. He’d nearly shot his wad just seeing her naked breasts, but he was able to control it. Grinning, he congratulated himself on his restraint as he assessed her.

Smirking, Xander pressed wet sloppy kisses to Buffy’s face and chest, before biting hard into the soft flesh of her breast. “Am I doing it right? Is this how the demon does it when he fucks you?”

When Buffy only squeezed her eyes closed in response, Xander grabbed her hair and shook her hard once more slamming her head against the tile floor. He leaned down and yelled in her face. “Answer me!”

“No.” The sound was barely audible, Buffy finding it hard to concentrate.

“Oh, that’s right. I don’t have fangs.” Xander sneered, once more running his hands roughly over her. “But I do have something else that he has…”

As she felt him groping clumsily between her legs, Buffy felt and increased sense of urgency to do something immediately to stop him. Xander shifted his attention to the actions of his hand between her legs, watching as he tore the crotch of her panties to expose her to his lustful gaze. With his eyes wide and his mouth open, he gaped at her stupidly, just short of drooling.

Buffy realized that now was her chance. Maybe even her only chance. She gripped the pencil hard in her fist.

Just as she raised her arm and drove the pencil hard into his shoulder, the bat came crashing down on Xander’s head with a resounding thud. He dropped on her, blood pooling on his skull. With difficulty, Buffy shoved at him, attempting to roll him off her.

“Buffy, are you all right?” When he saw that she was having trouble with the boy’s weight, Giles dropped the bat and knelt down to help her. Her condition alarmed him – how was she unable to fight off the boy?

“Yes.” Her words were still muddled and she was still weak, but she was enormously relieved. She was panting slightly from her exertions, the room careening wildly in her drugged eyes.

Noting her tattered clothing, Giles politely averted his eyes and wrapped his own jacket around her before checking her carefully for any sign of injury. Carefully he helped her to stand, and sat her in his office. Only then did he finally check on Xander. The boy was breathing, but would have one hell of a headache when he woke – that is, if he didn’t have a concussion. Not to mention an angry shoulder infection from the pencil lead. Well, there was no doubt that it was deserved.

Giles turned suddenly when the door to the library crashed open, Angelus bursting through. “Where is she?” He demanded, his demonic features giving Buffy’s watcher a momentary fear.

Giles pointed, unable to speak.

Buffy let out a startled shriek at Angelus’s sudden appearance, then miraculously she was in his arms. Large silent tears pooled in her eyes and she began to cry, relief washing over her. She needed him and he had come. It was that simple. Safe in Angelus’s arms, she didn’t have to be strong. She gave herself up to his strength, his keeping.

Giles watched mutely as Angelus folded Buffy in his arms, whispering soothing words to her as his face returned to his human form. Giles would never have believed it, the Scourge of Europe, one of the meanest Master Vampires known, was cuddling a slayer, comforting her.

Angelus lifted her tear stained face. His eyes searched her for injury, just as Giles had done earlier. Unlike Giles however, and against her protests, he parted the jacket she wore and examined more than just her face. He already knew that she had been drugged, her could smell the altered chemistry of her blood. His face darkened with anger when he saw the torn and tattered clothing. His features morphed back to the demon when he noted the scratch down the center of her chest along with the faint teeth marks and fingerprint bruises on her flesh. It was all accompanied by a scent that he knew too well.

“Harris.” The word came out in a rough snarl, his expression fierce. He could smell the boy’s scent nearby – along with the aroma of his blood. It was both provoking and agreeable given his current mood. “Where is he?”

“Some friends of mine from the Council will be arriving shortly to take him away.” Giles interrupted from the doorway. “He knows too much about the slayer, about the Council – I can’t turn him in to the Sunnydale police.”

“I wasn’t going to turn him in.” His words emotionless and cold, Angelus gave him a look that would have made a lesser man shiver.

“I can’t let you…” Buffy murmured, stirring and clinging to his shoulders. She didn’t want to verbalize the rest of her thoughts. “Besides, you promised.”

Angelus returned his eyes to Buffy, brushing her lips with a kiss.

“Take me home? Please.” With soft eyes, she looked up at him. After a long moment of internal debate, he found he could not deny her, as much as he wanted otherwise. But Harris would pay – now or later. He would wait.

Angelus removed Giles’s jacket from her then wrapped her in his own. He wanted no other male scent near or around her, no matter how innocent or benign. Lifting her in his arms he left, uncaring that Giles watched them.

– – – – –

Angelus said nothing all the way back to the apartment, his unleashed anger making him moody and impatient.

When they reached the apartment, he sat her on the bed then immediately began to run a bath. She watched him quietly with wide eyes. Finally she spoke, “How did you know? And how did you know where to find me?”

“Your scent.” His ill temper was in his eyes and voice, every taut inch of his tall body. Without an outlet, his anger turned on her. He ignored her first question, unwilling and unable to verbalize the spiritual connection that existed between them. Besides, she knew, she felt it too – she just wanted him to hear him admit he felt it as well.

“Did the boy have a good time?” He added churlishly, his gaze raking over her where his coat gaped open revealing her exposed breasts.

“No.” Buffy clutched the coat together as a chill ran through her.

His dark brow lifted, his eyes flecked gold with his anger. “He touched you. The question remains, how far did he get?”

“He didn’t-” She felt shamed, horrified as her mind flashed back to those minutes in the library, Xander’s hands groping her. She took a calming breath. “He only touched me. He didn’t-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, the thought too disturbing.

“He didn’t what, Buff? Fuck you?” Angelus brutally finished for her.

“No, he didn’t.” Her words were a whisper, but her eyes sparkled with anger.

He’d known as much, but his rage demanded to hear the words spoken, to hear her remove his doubts.

“How is it that he was able to drug you?” His voice was a low murmur, his distaste obvious.

“The mocha.” Buffy shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts. “It tasted funny-”

“But you drank it.” Condemnation was in every word.

“How was I supposed to know? I never thought Xander would do something like this…” Her voice nearly a whisper, Buffy felt saddened that it had come to this, that her friend had tried something so despicable, so irrevocably destroying to their friendship.

“Fine. You didn’t know. Get in the tub.”

“I get the impression that you think this is somehow my fault.” Buffy gazed at him, her eyes challenging. She would never be able to defend herself physically in her weakened state, yet she resented his apparent anger at her.

“We both know how *friendly* you can be. Maybe you led the boy on.” He growled savagely. “Just get in the fucking tub and wash his stinking smell off of you.”

Buffy’s temper flared. “How dare you. You fucking asshole.” She sat up straighter, her chin lifting defiantly. She’d been through too much today to take this bullshit from him. “This was not my fault. If you’re mad because you see it as a violation of one of your things – me – then, listen to me very closely.” Buffy stood then, clutching his coat around her, anger apparent in every inch of her tiny body. “Fuck you! I don’t care.”

Unsteadily she moved, intending to leave.

“Well, Buff, an invitation. Now that I like.” Angelus moved swiftly in front of her, halting her progress. “Your bathwater is getting cold.”

“I’m not taking a bath. Not here.” She stared up at him, her gaze bold and challenging despite the fact that she was no match for him in her drugged condition.

“I’ll help you.” His fingers closed on her arm, preventing her escape.

“No, thank you.” Buffy attempted to shake loose.

“I insist. I have this aversion to fucking you while you stink of him.”

“You’re worse than Xander.” She snapped.

“Lover, it’s just a fuck. It’s not like you haven’t spread those pretty little legs for me plenty of times before.” He drawled softly. He could feel her anger, her indignation, and her hurt. With the last, he felt his own fury dissipating.

“You’re kidding, right?” Towering over her, his sheet physical proximity was affecting her predictably. Her anger was softening and her body was heating, despite the earlier trauma. In that moment she resented her body’s unwanted response to him, more than she ever had before. When he touched her, she felt what he felt – the anger, the rage – and deep down there was something else, something she couldn’t quite name.

“Not at all. That *boy* touched you. I will wipe that memory away.” His voice was a low murmur as he stared down at her face.

Buffy shut her eyes briefly, reality suddenly too harsh and uncompromising. He had come for her, despite the sunlight, despite the demon that he was, knowing some way, some how that she had been in danger. No one else would do that for her, no one else would risk as much.

“What do you want?” She said on a soft exhaled breath. She no longer wanted to think about good and evil, right and wrong, salvation and vengeance. She wanted to be comforted and held, she wanted to know that everything would somehow be all right. It was unfair. He was angry and hating her for reasons she couldn’t control, his anger at Xander equal to her own.

“I want you to take a bath.”

“Fine.” She walked toward the bathroom slowly as his eyes followed her.

Without closing the door, she shrugged out of his coat and her tattered clothing dropping them to the floor in a pile. She stepped into the water gingerly, still feeling weak and unsteady, not to mention somewhat disoriented.

At the first sight of her nude form, Angelus clenched his fingers in his palm. Hatred for the boy that touched her rising again, jealously nearly choking him. He would have his vengeance. What he had done to Spike for his transgression against her would seem like a mere slap compared to what Xander would know. That is, if he survived it.

Buffy refused to look at Angelus, concentrating instead on the simple act of bathing. The warm water felt heavenly, the heat relaxing her tense muscles. All of her other thoughts right now were too complicated, too confused. The day had become a nightmare that she did not want to remember.

Angelus lit the fire in the small fireplace then removed his shoes and shirt. He forced his concentration to the next step in the ritual. He gathered up the required items and mixed them together. Occasionally, the sounds of the water splashing would distract him and he would glance up, the need for vengeance returning swift and sure with each passing moment.

Buffy glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Angelus’s voice, apparently chanting something. She had been nearly dozing for the last few minutes, the heat of the water helping to sooth and relax her.

Curiously she stood and reached for the towel, drying herself off and wrapping it around her as he continued.

When he finished, he looked up at her where she was watching him from the door.

“Would you like a smell?” She rudely inquired, her earlier feelings of resentment and annoyance returning. What was he doing?

“Later. Get into bed.” Angelus reached for the small dagger on the table.

“If I don’t?” Buffy shook her head, watching as he drew the sharp edge of the knife against his palm.

“I’ll fuck you on the floor.” He barely spared her a glance, concentrating instead on what he was doing.

“Nice.” She muttered sarcastically, “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. Not that she expected him too.

A few drops of blood dripped from his hand into the ornately carved crystal glass on the table below. Dropping a small flame into the glass, it sparked and flared in a brilliant blue and fuchsia light.

“Now lover, drink this.” Angelus held up the glass and started toward her.

Buffy backed up toward the wall. “No way. I will not be drugged twice in one day.”

Angelus considered her words even as he continued toward her. “It’ll return your strength.” He lied, but she wouldn’t know that until later. When it no longer mattered.

Buffy looked at him warily, her earlier anger and resentment at his treatment still hovering below the surface.

He reached out and touched her then, his hand sliding soothingly up her arm. His gentle touch always unnerved her, reminding her of Angel and effectively destroying her will to resist.

A hushed silence had fallen over the room, only broken by the infrequent crackling of the fireplace. She stared into his eyes.

Angelus held up the crystal goblet for her. His hand moved along her shoulder to the back of her head. He was preparing himself to force her, should it be necessary. Buffy however, didn’t realize his intent. She only felt his touch, his nearness, the weakening of her knees and the beginnings of the swirling heat that he was so easily able to provoke. As if she were no longer in control of her own actions, she reached for the glass.

Glancing into the contents, she sniffed. The smell was a bit acrid with smoke, but otherwise it not unpleasant. She looked up at him again. Angelus cupped the back of her head, tilting her head further back. He kissed her gently on the forehead, on one delicate eyebrow.

“This won’t… turn me, will it?” She had seen the drops of his blood that he had put in the glass, and she knew the ritual.

“No.” His lips brushed her temple, her cheek then lightly across her lips. His lips then settled on hers in a deep kiss, promising the heated, tantalizing pleasure that she knew he could offer. It was a deliberate kiss intended to persuade, to encourage, to tempt.

When he finally released her lips, she sighed. Then drank the contents of the glass.

Angelus grinned when she finished it in one gulp, taking glass from her and tossing it away, heedless of the sound of the crashing glass as it shattered upon hitting the floor. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

Lowering her to the bed, he slid one hand between her thighs.

Buffy caught her breath at the initial intimate contact, the tremulous pleasure spiking upward.

Despite the earlier ordeal, she found herself strangely restless and overwrought. She felt his cool hands on her keenly, making her feel remarkably feverish and delirious. His lips brushed across her chest, his tongue lapping at the scratch from Xander’s nail, at the faint teeth marks on her neck. He was determined to touch her everywhere, to replace her memories of Xander’s touch with his own.

When he slipped a finger inside her, she arched into his hand.

Sliding down, he slipped between her parted legs and ran his tongue over the nub of her clitoris. He licked and sucked with such delicate expertise, that Buffy was soon clutching his hair, whispering fervently, “Oh god, oh please…”

The heated pleasure spread through her body as he continued the expert ministrations of his tongue and fingers, intensifying the sensations with increasing attention to detail until her climax washed over her. She mewled softly, not wanting the glorious sensations to end.

Angelus moved over her then, thrusting inside her with nearly savage force, yielding at last to his possessive impulses, his anger, his primitive and inexplicable need for her. Leaning over her, he felt larger, stronger than ever given her weakened condition, yet even that furthered her want of him.

He kissed her then with barely restrained passion, his tongue exploring her mouth as he moved with increasing strokes. He had an elemental need to own her, exclusively, singularly and without reservation. He wanted to wipe away any memory of Xander’s hands on her body, any lingering trace of her distress at his hands.

Buffy clung to him, wanting too to wipe away her earlier memories of the day, to seek what comfort she could find in her lover’s arms.

Angelus resisted the urge to drink from her at the height of his pleasure, knowing that the drugs still in her blood would also weaken him, which was not something he would tolerate. To his surprise, Buffy bit him in the next instant, her teeth sinking into his neck just above his jugular as if she understood. He grunted and buried himself hard into her body, shooting his cool seed into hot, convulsing channel.

Buffy’s eyes flickered with weariness even before Angelus rolled from her. He studied her face as she slept, his eyesight keen in the now dark room. Long minutes later he tucked her against him and she sighed, falling into a deeper sleep with her lips pressed against his neck.

– – – – –

“Rupert!” Jenny shouted from the library. “I think I’ve found something!”

Giles rose quickly from the position he had been in, hunched over yet another book at his office desk.

Giles noted the blood on the floor as he crossed the room to where Jenny sat at the table. His thoughts jumped briefly to the dark haired boy that the team assigned by the Council had picked up just half an hour ago. Xander would be given medical treatment for his injuries, then would be sent to a work farm in some remote location far removed from Sunnydale. To everyone in Sunnydale, it would be yet another unexplained disappearance. The difference of course, is that a body would never turn up with inexplicable wounds or bite marks like so many former Sunnydale residents.

Giles felt a twinge of regret that things had gone so wrong with the young boy, but it couldn’t be helped. Not any longer.

“Right here.” Jenny’s voice returned Giles’s thoughts to her as she pointed out a passage in the large and ancient volume on the desk. “I think this is it.”

Giles put on his glasses and began to read. When he finished he looked at Jenny and smiled. In the next second his smile was replaced with a worried frown.

“Oh my lord. We have to stop them.” Giles shot Jenny and troubled look. In the next instant they were both heading for the door.