DISCLAIMER: Not even Miss Edith is mine, and she's only porcelain!
WORDCOUNT: 2813
SUMMARY: CS'verse. So, what happens when Buffy has to play hostess for an unwelcome vampire? Simple, she doesn't.
FEEDBACK: puppy eyes
THANK YOU: to Matt and Kristi for the beta. Thank you, thank you, thank you for helping with this, guys!

For colorific, lavender.


TERRITORIAL
by Leni


Angelus never knew whether it'd been the sudden presence against the doorframe or the simultaneous tension in the body he held which woke him first. He opened his eyes reluctantly; it was barely daybreak and they'd fallen asleep no more than an hour ago. Apparently their rest didn't matter to the figure standing at the door, neither that they hadn't bothered to cover themselves before surrendering to sleep.

He recognized the soft giggle instantly. A low curse from his side revealed that Buffy had seen her, too. Not bothering to sit up, he merely shifted on the bed for a more comfortable position.

Buffy tugged on the sheets to cover herself; he didn't bother to. There was nothing Drusilla hadn't seen before. The brunette smiled appreciatively, then invitingly, completely disregarding the seething blonde at his side. He paid no heed to her and strengthened his hold on Buffy, mostly to stop her from launching herself at the intruder. The muscles at her back had gone from contentedly relaxed to taut in an instant, and were currently on the brink of releasing their energy against Drusilla. Angelus tried a smooth caress down her spine to calm her, but a warning sound from his lover's lips advised him not to adventure down that route. He shrugged mentally and looked between the two females, each lethally dangerous in their own right. For a first face-to-face meeting, this wasn't so bad. No blood was running, at least. "Dru, what are you here for?"

The dark-eyed trespasser smiled and took his words as permission to walk into the room. She did so languidly, disregarding the clothes strewn on the floor. "Had to watch, had to see," were her only words as she advanced towards the bed.

Managing a hasty knot with the sheets' corners, Buffy's face took on a more natural shade as her blush subsided. Her anger didn't. Chin set in obvious annoyance, she confronted Dru with acid dripping from each word. "Now you saw. Get the hell out!"

Rarely had he seen Buffy as enraged, Angelus noted privately, and he'd gone to extremes to infuriate her. Enraged Slayers weren't healthy for vampires, and Drusilla wasn't so crazy that she'd ignore that simple rule. But now she simply glared at the blonde with contempt, then swiftly returned her attentions to him. "Miss Edith thought I was telling fairytales, cried because she wouldn't want to get into bed." He rolled his eyes. In her hand now he noticed the mentioned doll, blindfolded with a long black ribbon that trailed down Drusilla's arms and twirled carelessly in the air. "Little girls shouldn't see," she frowned, "But she wanted to." She gave the doll a punishing tap and continued. "Little girls shouldn't touch." The smile made a slow, deliberate turn into a smirk. "But I can."

Angelus saw the caress coming, invited it with a reciprocal smile. This was Dru, after all. There were some things she wasn't used to being denied, and this would be fun to observe. True to his estimation, it was the last straw for Buffy. She saw the brunette's intent as the challenge it really was. Long before the beautifully manicured fingertips could reach his skin, his bedmate had Drusilla's wrist trapped in a tight grasp. "Get. Out," she bit out, exponentially more menacingly than the last time. Angelus had never heard her hiss in anything but pleasure. He rather liked it, he realized. Buffy then released the vampire with enough force to make her traipse backwards.

Drusilla was quick in regaining her balance. The hand around Miss Edith's torso tightened dangerously as her dark eyes fixed on Angelus'. He responded with an amused shake of his head. Dru should know better than to ask for his intervention. For decades he'd never stepped in when the spats had transpired between her and Darla, and he wasn't about to make such a foolish mistake now that he was a century older. He wasn't the least concerned about the outcome; they could – and probably would - hurt each other; but never cross that line. The rules were simple: If Buffy killed Dru, she'd have to head for her dearest friends' funerals within the next day; and if Dru somehow managed to kill Buffy, well, his favourite would find out that he'd been a very nice 'Daddy' so far. Angelus wanted no part in this catfight, but just to lie back contentedly and watch. He'd always enjoyed a good show, after all.

Knowing she was on her own, Drusilla threw her shoulders back imperiously but didn't take a single step back. Her hands betrayed her, though, moving arrhythmically on the doll's head. They were almost twitching, pulling at the perfect hairdo Miss Edith was wearing today. "You can't hold me. Cannot tie me," she whispered, punctuating it with a hostile snarl, "I'm free of you, girl. I am free in my house. In my---"

"Your party?" Buffy interrupted her. There was a mocking tone in those words, and the brunette's lips thinned in reaction. "Wake up, Dru." The name was charged with so much loathing that Angelus was amazed that Drusilla wasn't flinging herself at the nude Slayer. Buffy must have thought the same; that was the only explanation for the next second.

Where she'd hidden the stake would remain a mystery. She rarely carried one nowadays, preferring to rely on the scythe's proven deadliness. Angelus was strangely disturbed by its presence, here, where he slept and was at his most helpless. Drusilla wasn't nearly as anxious about the weapon's origin, instead taking it in with a disdainful glance. "Can't do it, you know it," she sing-songed, grinning in delight.

Angelus felt tempted to warn Buffy, but desisted immediately. She should be aware of the consequences. Not even a Slayer could protect two people from him, and certainly not without telling them all the details behind his renewed threat. He looked at Buffy expectantly, waiting for her next move.

She didn't lower her stake, and she wouldn't take her eyes off Drusilla. "Stay five more seconds and find out." Her voice didn't waver, neither did her aim. Angelus' eyebrows raised at the determination in his lover's appearance. Grudgingly, so did his respect.

Drusilla must have seen the same thing. She looked between them searchingly, appeared to be on the verge of tears when he only shrugged at her situation. Her left foot stomped loudly against the floor and her lips pursed in a sullen pout before she whirled around and out of the room.

The stake was gone in the next second, back to its unknown hiding place. Buffy watched as the vampiress disappeared around the doorstep, and then turned to him with a serious expression on her face. "I'd rather face the guys than have her traipsing around in my room."

'My' room, Angelus noticed and frowned at the slip. On the good side, she'd proved to have overcome her initial anxiety about Dru. Even with a soul he'd worried about that. He couldn't – wouldn't - order Drusilla not to annoy his lover; she had to earn some respect by herself. Neither could he be babysitting Buffy until she acted out. Frankly, he'd never been interested in doing it, and now he wouldn't have to.

Meanwhile Buffy was unwrapping the sheet from around her body. She flung it irritably onto the mattress and purposely aimed it at his head, blinding him momentarily. By the time he drew the cloth away, Buffy was already moving from one corner of the room to the other, searching for her clothes and pulling them on as quickly as she could. All the while she kept muttering darkly under her breath, but in a volume high enough she had to know he was listening.

Finally, she took a deep breath and walked – stalked – towards him. She sat at his side and balanced herself with a hand against the centre of his chest as she leaned forward. "You smiled too much," she told him before kissing him, the hand moving on his skin in tandem with her lips. Her nails teased his navel, then bit down slightly before beginning again. The kiss itself was harsh, too, tongue and teeth on the offensive as they sought out his. It seemed more a 'watch out' warning than the simple goodbye it was supposed to be. She bit his lower lip before breaking her hold, kissed her fingertips and caressed his chin with them as she stood up. Never looking back at him, she left the room without another word. Angelus saw her leave and smiled, licking the small tear in his lip. All in all, the balance was positive.

ooo

Angelus saw the final result of those angry mutterings two days later, when he was awakened as soon as the sun set by Drusilla's loud cries and louder curses right outside his door. He smirked to himself, thinking that maybe Spike had gotten his last dig on his Slayer. As he followed the noise out of his room, he actually considered how to reward Buffy – after she'd been properly punished, of course. Perpetual annoyance or not, Spike was still part of this household.

It wasn't Spike's ashes which greeted him.

When Angelus finally discovered the cause for Drusilla's grief, he couldn't contain a deep laugh. Buffy had so much potential. Right here and now, he knew why it'd been worth it to win her to his side. The only way her message could have been clearer was if she'd actually slain Dru. Instead she'd chosen the more subtle approach: ripped lavender ribbons hung from the door, each of them nailed to the wood by a stake.

The fabric's texture and colour alone told Angelus of its source: Miss Edith's favourite dress. Drusilla herself had made it during one of her saner episodes. He could still remember the low humming as she sewed the pieces together, the trail of young girls left behind. Because Drusilla wanted only the best for her masterpiece, and she couldn't bear a sign of blood on it. If memory served, and Angelus knew it did, Dru always kept it under her own clothes, in her own room, very close to her bed. Everybody knew that Buffy hunted while they did, so she had to have retrieved the dress with Drusilla and Spike in the room. He was surprised she hadn't done this in their door, but then realized the stunt was the most effective 'Keep Out' sign.

Angelus ignored the brunette's pleas for revenge as he left his room, but caressed her hair as he passed by her. Still chuckling, he drew her head to his chest in a mockery of protection. "She can't play by the rules," Dru whined, pressing against him as if seeking comfort. Absently, she twisted one of the rags around a finger and suddenly yelped when she discovered it'd been soaked in holy water. "Take her out. Out! You don't need any girl but me."

"Oh, Dru." He stroked her cheek, kissed her hairline, then took her by her elbows and sharply pulled her away. "But what would Spike think of that?" The blonde's wheelchair had come into the aisle just in time to hear Dru's words. Angelus greeted Spike with a sarcastic nod; he answered with an obviously fake smile. "Take care of her," Angelus said as he pushed Drusilla onto her lover. She managed to fall gracefully on his lap and immediately cuddled up to him, sniffling and glaring mournfully at the impromptu decoration of the main room's door.

Angelus left them like that and went off to search for his lover. On his way he couldn't help but consider a new thought: Buffy wasn't as tight in his grasp as he'd believed. She would have killed Drusilla that morning, he had seen than decision in her expression, her stance and everything that screamed Slayer within her. That she'd changed her mind in the end had been more a last minute whim than any fear of his reaction.

Eternity without Dru, how boring that sounded. She wasn't the only vampire he'd sired, but all others he'd abandoned or staked. But Dru, sweet broken Dru, she was so special. So his. The underworld had been shaken when they'd seen what the sweet maiden had become in his hands. Drusilla was his masterpiece, the only creature he'd torn down and rebuilt from scratch. Not even Buffy could claim that.

What would have happened if Buffy had done it? Obviously the gang would be dead; but after that? He'd always thought he kept Buffy in line with that threat, but now she had shown she wasn't that easily tamed. Shame on him, really, for believing it could be that simple. This was Buffy, after all, and he'd taught personally her that fear couldn't control her; that was how he'd convinced her to stop dreading her friends' objections and come to him. Now Angelus saw his lesson play boomerang on him, and he was... strangely pleased. As much as he'd liked the idea of having a Slayer under his control, he would enjoy testing Buffy's limits and stretching them even more. And lately her limits were edged in so many jarred shards; the very fact that she'd been tempted to kill Drusilla revealed so much. Before she wouldn't have dreamed of it, not for something as mundane as stepping into his room. Angelus would delight in unveiling how sharp these new limits can be, and how he could make them even sharper.

But for now he concentrated in the sound of a nearby fight, smiled when he heard a familiar feminine voice quipping her way through the battle. He knew the Slayer had emerged victorius when a there was a long howl, then nothing. He advanced into the alley, trying to reconcile the panting Slayer inside with the schemer who just won the battle against a centuries older vampire without a single hit. He could admit it to himself, he liked the schemer better. If he had to decide between a eternity without his favourite or without this girl, he'd choose Buffy. It was such a pity that she wasn't interested in that offer.

"Drusilla is most unhappy," he said as soon as she was finished cleaning her weapon. Then, truly curious, "How did you know?"

Buffy didn't turn around immediately, but stopped at his words. "I can read," she told him simply.

Of course, that made sense. Which better way to know about a vampire's secrets than a Watcher's archives? He nodded. "Didn't Giles forbid you to break into the Diaries again?" He didn't need to ask. After the chaos of Hallowe'en, Giles had banned all of the youngsters from that section of the library.

Buffy snorted, and he knew she was rolling her eyes from her tone of voice. "I spend most nights at your place, in your bed." He moved swiftly at her side and smirked meaningfully at that last word. She responded to his grin, didn't seem the least startled that he had materialized inches in front of her, and then continued, "Somehow, peeking at old books didn't rank too high in the 'Good Slayers Don't' list."

His head cocked to a side, curiously. "Anything good about me?"

"Not really."

He glared at her.

She smiled, a smile she'd never used when he had a soul and which was perfected with every lie. "It was an interesting read," she allowed.

"Interesting. That's all? You aren't going to tell me what those prigs know about me?" Angelus caressed her cheek, as he'd just done with Drusilla, and sweetened his voice. "Really, Buff. What kind of girlfriend are you?" She shook her head and made to leave. He took her wrist to stop her, but let out a hiss when his palm began hurting in the distinct burn of holy water. He didn't loosen her, endured the pain as he pulled her under the nearest streetlamp. When Angelus saw her wrist under the light, his eyes fixed on the thin lavender strap acting as a brand new bracelet. A second phase for a good plan, he admired that. Envisioning Drusilla's face when she saw it, Angelus was forced to feel… proud? Oh, his girl had so much potential, and she still insisted on being loyal to Giles regarding the Council's records.

Buffy didn't try to fight his grip, and instead searched his look with hers. "The kind that isn't friendly at all," she responded his last question.

Not friendly? He grinned and kissed the back of her hand as all answer, making sure to brush against the metal of her Claddagh ring. Not friendly to him, neither to his protégées, that was true. But when he pulled her body in to kiss her, the last thought in her eyes was to resist.

All in all, the balance stayed positive.


The End
22/10/05