Disclaimers, See Part 1
Email: LunarMyth


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Part 3:


*I have this completely under control* he thought as he followed the idiot minion through the sewers. Angel had no way of telling if the vampire knew he was being followed or not, but something about the situation didn't sit right with him. It almost seemed too easy. But he knew he couldn't be heading into a trap. He'd watched the vampire rise with his own two eyes. So, the vampire couldn't be acting on orders from his Master. It would only be Angel's bad luck if he got caught.

Which, by Murphy's Law, invariably meant that everything would go wrong. As Angel ran silently into a small chamber, he hesitated, unsure of which direction the vampire had gone. Left? Right? Straight? It didn't really matter. The choice was taken out of his hands when he was attacked from behind. It could have been any number of large, metal objects that struck him in the head. In the end, the outcome was the same. Angel was out cold.


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His surroundings were blurry when Angel opened his eyes. He was chained to a wall in a chamber much like the one he'd been ambushed in. It was unsettling to think that he'd been caught. He'd been so sure that no one was aware of him.

As he came to, a female and a male vampire came forth and unchained him, though they kept a tight grip on his wrists. His head felt like it was throbbing and about to explode, but he lifted it and saw the dim outline of the lanky, pale vampire walking towards him.

"Spike!" Angel snarled. He would have pounced on his childe if the stupid minions had not been restraining him.

"Mmmm. Yes, Angelus. You wouldn't forget me, now would you, peaches?" He waved his hand in front of his face. "Cor! You reek of humanity! Where did we go wrong?"

"What are you doing in Sunnydale?" he barked out, wary of the situation. "Where's Drusilla?" If he wasn't mistake, Spike's eyes burned with an inner fire at the mention of his sister/lover's name.

"I'm afraid Dru isn't with us any longer, 'Daddy'," Spike said smoothly, his mocking voice caressing Dru's pet name for Angel. "As for what I'm doing in Sunnydale, it's the bloody Hellmouth, mate. It's a veritable cornucopia of evil. The better question is, why wouldn't I be here? I'm actually surprised you didn't find my lair earlier."

"What do you mean? How long have you been here?" Angel couldn't fight off the memories of Spike and Dru. He could almost swear he could see Spike in a wheelchair.

Spike laughed mirthlessly. "Only about six years. It's been such a laugh watching you kids run around with your heads up your arses."

"Never," Angel said. "You would never have the patience to hide out for six years."

Spike walked forwards and trailed his hand over his Sire's cheek. "You'd be surprised what losing Dru did for me. Opened up a whole new world, you might say. I've learned...that patience truly is a virtue."

"Really?" Angel's voice dripped with sarcasm. "How noble. So losing the crazy twit was really a blessing in disguise?"

"Mmmmm. Let's just say, I wouldn't have lost -- either way. I won the spoils of the victor."

"What do you mean? Either way?" A feeling of dread spread over Angel.

Spike grinned maliciously. "Our poor love was killed by a Slayer. Well, I did love Dru so very much -- my only choice was to kill the Slayer myself. However, when I saw her...I decided to turn her. She's been a source of endless enjoyment, believe me, peaches. She's my Queen," Spike told him conspiratorially.

Thoughts flew through Angel's mind. Kendra? No, he'd seen Kendra die right before his eyes. Had Faith been killed, then?

Spike watched the confusion move over his Sire's handsome features. "Slayer!" he called out, knowing she was never too far from him.

Angel watched with grim fascination as a woman emerged from the shadows. She was barely a woman at all, he saw, as she drifted into the dim light. She was dressed in a soft black leather catsuit that zipped up the front -- well, it should have zipped up the front. It was undone almost to the middle of her torso, exposing the shadow of her cleavage and full, soft curves of her breasts. Angel itched to reach forward and zip it up. His gaze traveled over her from her feet up. The leather was like a second skin, revealing every luscious curve and line, yet hiding what drove his imagination insane. Her skin was pale and virtually luminescent. She glowed with an unearthly light that seemed to draw him to her like a moth to a flame. Her golden tresses were piled atop her head in a careless, yet beautiful, crown of ringlets. Her dark eyes seemed to be forest green in the shady lighting, but he knew them to be a deep and transient hazel. In fact, when he stared at the girl, Angel knew everything about her. Memories swam back to him in a tidal wave, bringing every emotion, every joy, every pain back to him with a startling clarity.

"Buffy," Angel cried out in a tormented whisper. He could see her, knew it to be her, but it was just a shell. Her physical beauty was where the similarities between his soulmate and this demon ended.

Buffy watched the stranger curiously as she sidled up next to Spike and wrapped one arm around his waist. She never even blinked as her cold, vacant gaze roamed over him. There was something about the stranger that called out to her. As if a part of her recognized him. And she didn't like the feeling. He seemed to be feeling the same thing -- it was evident in his harsh tone as he called out her name.

She wanted to hurt him, Buffy realized. She wanted to make him cry. With a chilling smile, she turned to Spike and licked a wet trail over the icy skin of his neck. Unfazed, Spike kept his glare on his Sire while his mistress played. Buffy placed light, tantalizing kisses over the area of skin before sinking her fangs into his jugular, the sweet, thick blood flowing from her Sire and filling her mouth. She could taste his excitement, pride, and hate as she fed off of him. The blood pulsed it's way into her system, building an exquisite tension that seemed to burst as she writhed against his side. Carefully, Buffy withdrew her fangs and licked at the wound before turning back to Angel and licking her lips. Though the smile was still on her blood red lips, the look in her eyes was emotionless.

Angel didn't know what bothered him most about watching his true love feed from his childe -- knowing that she was a demon, knowing that she was Spike's, or knowing that the erotic scene that had just unfurled before him had had more of an effect on him than he wanted to admit. "How?" he asked Spike.

"Don't you like her?" Spike asked triumphantly. "She's absolutely exquisite. And," he added confidentially, "she's got all her marbles, if you know what I mean."

"How," Angel asked again, his tone firm.

"How what, peaches? How'd I get her? It was quite easy, actually. After I killed the Annoying One, I found her locked in a cage, weak from feedings." Spike grinned down at his lover. "I suppose I wanted her from the first, otherwise I would have killed her without a thought. But she was so tempting, even when weak and helpless. There was a glow about her, an inner strength. Her sense of humor didn't hurt either. So I helped her get strong, and like women usually do, she turned on me. Killed Dru, she did. After that, I didn't really have any choice. It was either kill her or make her mine. I doubt anyone could fault me for my decision, right, pet?" he asked her as he leaned down and kissed her brutally.

"You turned her into a mindless drone?"

"Hardly," Spike barked out a laugh. "I wouldn't admit it to anyone but you, lad, but the Slayer's got me whipped." He smiled with satisfaction as Buffy pulled him back down to her, her fingers lacing through his bleached blonde hair as she rubbed her body against his. "Mmmmm, luv, not right now. We have company."

"Bah!" Buffy pouted. She pushed away from Spike and walked up to Angel. "Let him go," she told Spike's minions, not even bothering to look at them. Angel was surprised when they obeyed her. Obviously she did have some pull. They dropped him to his knees and left him there, kneeling before her. Angel felt his love's hands lightly caress his body. But they weren't his Buffy's hands -- so full of life and warmth. They were cold and dead and so like his own. Though his body reacted to her touch immediately, his heart tried to reject her. This wasn't the woman he loved more than life. And yet it was. Angel wondered if Buffy had ever felt so repulsed by, yet drawn to, his own lifeless touch.

She gently tilted his head up and stared him in the eyes. His dark gaze marked her, and Buffy felt as if she'd been burned. She was surprised to see the heat and emotion in his eyes, but she hid it well beneath her dispassionate veneer. Her fingertips trailed over the hard planes of his face, the soft -- yet unmoving -- curve of his lips, the arrogant arch of his brows. Without a word she spun around. "I don't like him," Buffy told Spike before leaving the chamber.

Spike chuckled. "Now look what you've done. You ran off my lovely. I'm afraid you'll have to pay for that," he told Angel as his voice remained deceptively calm. Inside he wanted to tear the wanker apart. With a nod to his slaves he ordered them to lock Angel up in the "Old Quarters". As he watched them drag his Sire away, Spike mulled over the unspoken exchange he'd witnessed between his lover and Angel. There was something between the two, however impossible it might seem. Spike knew for a fact that the Slayer, as he called her, and Angelus had never met. So what was this "spark" between them? He'd have to watch her extra carefully. There was no way he was going to let her slip out of his grasp.


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"Do you understand me? I want to know everything. You report to me and only me, or else," Buffy snarled menacingly.

The young female vampire nodded and scurried off to the cells in search of her mistress's quarry. Madeleine knew better than to disobey her mistress. Buffy's carefree cruelty was renowned in the vampire subculture. She harbored no remorse and wasn't afraid to raise hell when necessary -- well, most often even when it wasn't necessary. If she didn't do as Buffy bid, she may well find herself pinned to a wall and greeting the sunrise intimately.

Madeleine didn't know what was so special about Spike's new prisoner. These type of people came and went and the mistress never deigned to show them so much as an ounce of attention. Now she was sending minions to check up on him and find out everything about him. It was possible that their Queen was looking for a new lover. The thought made Madeleine smile. Perhaps she could try him out first. However, if Buffy ever found out, she'd kill her. So maybe once Buffy was through with Spike, she could move in on him. Though no one ever said anything, it was common knowledge to the minions and fledglings who was in charge. Spike might be the Master vampire, but Buffy ruled the Hellmouth. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it.

The keys rattled in her hands as she unlocked the cage door and stepped inside the cell. It was dark and dank and it smelled bad, even to her.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"My mistress sent me to see to you, sir." Her eyes roamed hungrily over his muscular form. No wonder Buffy wanted him.

"Your mistress?"

"The Queen," Madeleine clarified. "Buffy. The Slayer." There were so many names that the golden woman went by, and those were just the polite ones. "She sent me to find out what you know."

"What I know," scoffed Angel. He looked up at the slip of a girl who was lounging seductively against the steel bars. "And what exactly is it that she wishes to find out?" he asked warily.

"She wishes to know how you know her."

Her answer stunned Angel. So Buffy had felt the electricity between them also, had she? He smiled slightly. "She'd never believe it."

Madeleine walked forwards and crouched down in front of the handsome captive. "Try her. By the way," she extended her small, pale, slender hand. "I'm Madeleine."

Angel took her hand in his. "Not quite a pleasure, but I'm Angel."

"Mmmm. You certainly are," he heard her murmur. "So. Are you willing to give my mistress a chance?"

"What choice do I have?" he asked as he leaned back against the slimy brick wall that formed the back of the cell. "It started about six years ago, when I saw Buffy called as a Slayer. I should have known then that I would never be able to leave her. She was everything that I was not, everything that was denied to me. We met face to face shortly after she first moved to Sunnydale...."


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Part 4:


"Oh don't look so sour, dear. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were acting jealous," Buffy teased as she reclined on the chaise lounge in his bedroom. Spike had stalked into the room only moments after she'd sent Madeleine back down into the sewers.

"I'm not jealous," Spike mumbled. "I have nothing to be jealous of, luv, now do I?"

Buffy slid her leather encased legs off of the lounge and walked up behind him. She slipped her arms around his waist and ran her hands over his chest. "No reason at all," she whispered huskily before nipping lightly at his neck. "I wanna play," Buffy told him.

Spike grinned. "Play what?" he inquired.

"Mmmmm. It's a surprise," she told him as she led him over to the fireplace. Buffy pushed him roughly against the wall and pressed her body into his, her leg sliding between his as her thigh pressed into his groin. "Ooooh...happy to see me?" she asked wryly. She leaned down and quickly scooped up her chains. With a swift movement, Buffy threaded the chains through the wrought iron trimming on the mantle and closed the manacles over Spike's wrists. She stepped back and admired her work as she saw Spike's arms held his above his head. "Baby likes to play?"

Spike groaned hoarsely. "Slayer...."

Buffy only smiled and moved farther away from him. With a flick of her wrist she released her hair, letting it tumble over her shoulders in a wild array of curls. The ends brushed lightly against the upper swell of her breasts, and Spike moaned with need. She laughed softly and swiped at his chest, tearing the black and red shirts right down the middle and baring his chiseled, pale chest to her view and touch. Her nails scraped over his icy skin as her fingers worked their way down to the waistband of his black jeans. Buffy pulled herself close to him, the velvety softness of the leather tantalizing his bare flesh as she rubbed against him. Her hazel eyes entranced him as she stared into his eyes. She moved closer to him and he swallowed thickly when he saw her small pink tongue run over her red lips.

"Who do you belong to?" she asked, her lips hovering right below his.

"You, Slayer. And you belong to me." Spike's eyes began to glow yellow as his demon stated its possession of her.

Buffy smiled cruelly, though there was a glint of satisfaction in her cool gaze. "Body and...well, can't exactly pledge my soul, now can I?" They laughed together before she flicked her tongue over his lips, begging to be let inside the cool depths of his mouth. Spike instantly reacted, enjoying the feel of her coolness against his. Their tongues sparred and twined together as they kissed. One of her small hands cupped him through his jeans while the other unfastened the buttons.

"Oh God," Spike moaned against her lips.

Buffy smirked. "He can't help you now," she said as her body slid down the length of his until she was kneeling in front of him. With a hard tug she yanked off his jeans and threw them over her shoulder. "Mmmmm. Much better," she murmured as she leaned forward and placed a kiss on the head of his erect cock. She heard him suck in a low breath and leaned back. Her fingers encompassed his thick shaft and she never ceased to marvel at its soft texture surrounding a core of steel. As her hand pumped his cock, Buffy leaned forward once more and licked gently at his sacs before drawing each one in turn into her mouth and bathing them with her tongue.

Spike could barely hold back a gasp as he felt the Slayer's mouth engulf him. "Cor, Slayer! Don't ever think of stopping!" Buffy chuckled and he felt the soft vibrations travel through him like lightning. Her grasp on him tightened and Spike yelped, feeling like an untried adolescent. When her mouth left him, he almost cried out until he looked down and saw her lips surrounding his rigid member. The sight of the little goddess at his feet was almost enough to undo him, but he held on, not wanting the moment to be over. Her head bobbed up and down over his cock and her tongue laved the sensitive vein on the underside. Spike gave in to the suction, but at the tight sensation he realized with a modicum of surprise that she was deep throating him with no problems at all. The knowledge was just too much. He felt his sacs tightening as his climax neared.

Obviously Buffy understood his nearness as well. She withdrew her lips from his swollen cock and held it lightly in her hand while she places a soft kiss on the tender flesh of his inner thigh. Spike was rather surprised at her gesture. She held his shaft almost flush against the arch of her neck and he could feel his tip caress the top of her breast. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but he still had a sense of wanting.

"Slay -" he started, but was cut off by his own growl of ecstasy.

Buffy pressed another kiss into the sensitive skin before sinking her fangs deep into his thigh. As his blood flooded her mouth, she tasted his orgasm. Waves of pleasure rolled over both of them, and in his heightened awareness, Spike yanked the chains right through the iron. She drank from him and did not notice when her captive was set free or when he spilled his cold seed over the soft, bare flesh of her throat and the valley between her breasts.

Spike buried his hands in her soft hair and pulled her gently away from him. As he lifted her, he noticed a thin trail of blood running over her lips. The sight enflamed him and he crushed her violently to him, his tongue divesting her of the excess blood. Without a though, he picked her up and threw her onto his bed. His growl was purely animalistic as he pounced on her, tearing right through the thick leather of her catsuit. When he'd relieved her of her clothes, Spike pried the manacles off of his wrists and tossed them aside. Buffy chuckled as she ran her palms over the hard planes of his chest and back over the smooth curve of his shoulders as she pushed his shirts off of him.

Spike's hands roamed over her as well. He decided he liked the sight of his seed glistening on her body. Spike spread her legs without hesitation and moved to kneel between her thighs. He was in no mood to take his time. His hands trailed over the indentation of her waist and the soft swell of her hips before her gripped the firm cheeks of her ass and pulled her up to him so that most of her weight rested on her shoulders and head. With an arrogant smile he let his hands lightly caress the outside of her thighs and calves until he reached her ankles. Spike's long fingers curled around her slender ankles and he jerked them upwards, spreading her thighs even wider as he accommodated himself between them. He draped her legs over his arms and placed a hand firmly on her abdomen, holding her down as he slid his still hard cock into her waiting channel.

Buffy arched upwards as he entered her, drawing him deeper into her tight, wet depths. Her hands made fists in the sheets as Spike withdrew slowly before slamming into her violently. Her dark eyes burned with fire as she gazed up at him. "Harder," she commanded him.

"My pleasure," Spike bit out before ramming into her deeper. He leaned forward and pinned her upper arms to the bed, using the force as leverage as he drove into her. Their combined scents mingled in the air as he pumped in and out of her. Each thrust was harder than the last, and Spike could feel himself banging into her cervix. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed, exposing the pale length of her neck to him. He watched, fascinatedly, as her full breasts bounced each time he plunged into her. He could feel her wetness sliding over and between them.

Buffy moaned deep within her throat as he pounded into her. Her body bucked against his as her muscles began to contract against him, milking his cock. When his fingers slipped between their bodies to tease her clit, Buffy screamed. She gripped him tightly form the inside, squeezing him as he continued to drive into her.

Spike emptied himself into her as Buffy convulsed around him. In the blink of an eye he'd morphed into his game face and had his face buried in the soft flesh of her neck. At the same time his fangs pierced her skin, hers buried themselves in his own neck, creating a powerful, orgasmic cycle of blood that only increased the climax each was experiencing.

As they came down from their high, Spike rolled over, bringing her with him, and crooned soft nothings into her ear. When she was sure he was asleep, Buffy extricated herself from his grasp and rolled off of the bed, mindless of her nudity. She made her way quietly to the door of their adjoining bedrooms.

"Enjoy yourself?" she asked the small girl, knowing full well that Madeleine had been watching from the shadows for the past forty minutes. As she brushed passed her and entered her own room, Buffy felt the girl's small hand caress her shoulder. "Not right now, Madeleine. Why don't you draw me a bath, and while I'm relaxing, you can tell me everything you learned?


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Part 5:


"...told me that what the Mayor said made sense to him. Coupled with the fact that your mother went to have a talk to him -- basically telling him to leave -- it made him see that it was the right thing to do. He knew that he could never make you happy, never give you the life you needed and wanted. So after you fought the Mayor and stopped the Ascension, he left town. Moved to L.A. Hasn't really seen you in three years," Madeleine narrated the stranger's story.

Buffy reclined in the large tub filled with warm water and bubbles, with the faint scent of roses. "Hmmmm. If that was me, I'd kill my mother all over again for having done that. Too bad I already did."

"I think it's romantic. You're his true love."

"Wake up, Maddy. It's not real. This...*vampire*...is obviously a nut. I swear to you, before last night, I'd never met him before in my life. My unlife either."

"Well...he seems to know pretty much about you, mistress," Madeleine said as she washed Buffy's hair. "Even if it is only from when you were called."

A strange tingling sensation nagged the back of her brain, but Buffy disregarded that. "Oh really? Like what?"

"Like how you were sitting on the steps of your old high school when your first Watcher approached you. And how your first kill was almost your last. And how when you got home that night your mother and father had a very big fight about you, and he watched you cry in your bathroom. He says he was supposed to be your partner, supposed to help and protect you."

"Yeah, well, *if* he's even telling the truth -- and the man sounds rather delusional to me -- then he obviously wasn't very good at his job, now was he?" Buffy said briskly, not dwelling on the memories of her past. She stood up in the bathtub. "Hand me a towel." She wrapped her hair up and slipped into the plush robe Madeleine held out for her. "You may go now. But remember, you breathe a word of this to anyone, and I will kill you. Gladly." She waited until the girl left before getting dressed.

Buffy walked to her closet and switched on the light. She walked through the large area, searching for something "appropriate" to wear. A small smile played over her lips as she found what she was searching for. The filmy white material was silky and sheer and called for nothing beneath it. Well, that's the way she wore it anyway. The top part of the "dress" was halter-like. It came down in a deep "V" and tied behind her neck, leaving her entire back bare. The "skirt" part was little more than a few scarves looped together to form an open, flowing effect. When she walked, the light fabric seemed to float around her like a cloud. Buffy brushed her hair out so that it was completely straight -- with none of its usually body or wave. She pulled back the front part and left a few tendrils to frame her face. When she was finished, she smiled. She hoped that she was the picture of seductive innocence. But there was something missing. Buffy walked to her vanity and rummaged around in her jewelry box. Spike had bought -- and stolen -- many pieces for her over the years, but there was something she'd kept from her previous life. For some odd reason it was beyond her now how she'd gotten it or what it was. Actually, it was a small silver locket on a long silver chain. But for the life, or unlife as it was, of her, Buffy could not figure out how to open it, and she was loathe to break it. She slipped it on over her head and straightened her hair. For shoes, she picked out a pair of white "strappy" sandals that laced around her ankles. Perfect.

Making sure that Spike was still asleep, Buffy breezed out of the house and made her way to her prey.





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