TITLE: Complex Cycles 5
AUTHOR: Leni
DISCLAIMER: The only thing I own is my computer and my cat. Give me Angel (The REAL one, please!) and they'll be yours.
DISTRIBUTION: E-mail me and we will talk about it.
SUMMARY: A date, two loves, one discovering and a nice torture... Just another normal day in this universe...
SPOILERS: Seasons 1,2,3,4 of BtVS and Season 1 of A:tS
AN: Remember. This is an *very* ALTERNATE universe fic.
RATING: I'm happy to announce that somehow I've managed to keep this at PG-14... ain't you proud? BUT that happened only 'cause I promised my muse total freedom for chapter 6... *sighs*
FEEDBACK: You write it, I write this. dani_vasq@hotmail.com , a_d_v_v@yahoo.com.ar


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Day 5, Sunday______________"Discoverings"



He had felt the sun rising a long time ago. Still, he could not bring himself to sleep.

It must have had something to do with the stinging and the bruising and the movement of his bones as they returned to their right places on their own accord.

Yes, the Ripper was hurting everywhere now.

He could not recall ever being in so much pain. And that was saying a lot considering his exhaustive training as a Watcher and -just back to the near past - his encounter with the deadly couple some nights ago, when the blonde girl had gleefully watched as he screamed and pleaded. No, not for his life, but for his death. What a fool he'd been then, the Ripper mused now.

Still, never had the aftermath shocked him so much. The torture-enduring 'lessons' in London could be put as mere child's play in comparison to what Buffy and Angelus had done to him that first night, and even that was nothing comparing to this last punishment.

Apparently, Buffy's odd decision of letting him live had nothing to do with leaving him unharmed. When he thought about her achievements with just a whip and her bare hands, he couldn't help but shudder in anticipation. When would they teach him how to be the torturer instead of the torturee?

Of course, the Ripper thought when a tearing ache parted from his hands, he could not forget about Angelus. After some hours of just watching detachedly as his lover disciplined the newest member of his family He had convinced her to step aside and enjoy the view as he culminated her work. Buffy had whined a little and pouted a lot but in the end had acquiesced to her Sire's demand. Mostly because she knew how much the performance would please her, of course. And it had... much to her delight and the Ripper's torment.

Now, he pictured Angelus' smirk as he dislodged each finger from its socket with infinite patience; Buffy's twin grin and soft giggle when he finally cried out at the pain. Angelus' use of the whip had been nearly non-existent; instead he had applied his unique and sinister imagination. There had even been a point where he thought he would simply pass out from the sheer pain. That was when he had actually heard Buffy sigh and tell her lover to stop it. The Ripper had been impressed -if not necessarily surprised- when the older vampire complied.

Of course, that brief break had only served to make him plainly aware of the hours that followed, now with Buffy and Angelus working alternatively and sometimes even together on him.

A new wave of pain engulfed him, this time coming from his slashed ankles. Before now, he had never thought that those small points of bones and flesh could hurt so much. He recalled the blonde vampiress babbling about never letting him go and making sure he would complete his part of the deal. What deal she was talking about, the Ripper had no idea.

Yes, he decided, those vampires could maintain him here for the moment; he was not fool enough to want to break out now that he was so thoroughly watched - and needed, too? That would be an advantage for him. But, in the end, the Ripper had his own plans.


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When Tara woke up, it was to blink her eyes against the harsh day of light. For a second or two she basked in the loving feeling of the nature on her skin she smirked inwardly. But even as she was just joking to herself, she could not help but compare her lover -the feeling of her hands, of her lips, of her smile and her love- to the bright radiance which lifted her spirits just because of its presence.

Tara grinned.

When she rolled over to accommodate herself around the sleeping body of her lover, she caught sight of the clock at the wall. She groaned in dismay and closed her eyes. If she didn't hurry, she would be late. Their leader had insisted that they held their meeting in the local library and said place was on the other side of town. And she had to walk to get there!

It was all her parents' fault for not buying her a nice car. But then, Tara recalled, maybe it was much better if they didn't spare her a second thought. Suddenly depressed, the blonde girl put the covers away and -careful not to wake Willow- made her way to the shower.

Yes, a nice hot shower was the best way to keep away the memories and get her on the right track to begin the day. After all, it was not every day that she cast a spell to protect her house just to get into worse problems because of it. Willow -and, consequently, herself- were in BIG Trouble. On the good side, at least, if he had been dumb enough to be tricked by an amateur like Willow, then *maybe* it wasn't that bad.

Tara wasn't sure of that last part, though.

She needed to form a plan. Quickly. She had spent half the night soothing Willow's fears and the other half trying to solve their current situation. Maybe if she contracted some bodyguards... Lexam demons were neutral, and, with the right amount of Marnox Root, their fee could be easily covered. Yeah, that would be a good beginning. Of course, if this vampire was as powerful as his blood-force suggested, Lexam demons would not be a big obstacle. Still, as of yet, they were her best option.

.

Maybe it would be easier to think further after she had showered. It had been a long night, and a shower sounded relaxing enough.

She would wake Willow up afterwards.


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Angelus couldn't sleep. With all the adrenaline coursing through his system after last night, it was impossible to find rest between his sheets. He couldn't understand how Buffy could be sleeping the sleep of the innocent. Personally, he felt edgy and restless. Maybe it was due to not having finished off his latest prey... he had been so near to seeing that annoying librarian turn to dust. If only Buffy hadn't been there to stop him... but nooo, he scowled at the memory, she had actually stopped the stake. It had been a perfect shot, Angelus recalled, straight to the heart... If only Buffy hadn't been there...

If Buffy hadn't been there, he would have never turned that damned Watcher. She had been the one to insist that *someone else* had to do the researching and now she was the one determining that he had to be kept alive. Well, he had witnessed the accuracy of her feelings often enough, and if she said that they needed the Watcher, then they needed the Watcher. Period. Else, how could he contradict his Princess' whims?

If she wanted that vampire alive, then he would let him live. Which didn't mean that he couldn't play a little more with his broken remains.

Leaving the bedroom, he went to the first floor and barked his orders to the few minions gathered in one of the outer rooms. They reeked of alcohol and their steps were clumsy at the best, but Angelus was sure that they would carry his order flawlessly. After all, how difficult could it be to drain one of the boys from the reserve?

In effect, short minutes afterwards, one of them presented him with a bowl. His face automatically changed at the smell of fresh blood. He grinned satisfied. If it got such a reaction from a well-fed vampire, what would happen to a famished - and severely hurt - Watcher? He whistled an old Irish tune as he went towards the Watcher's chamber.

Once there, he motioned the minion to open the door. Inside, the room was as silent as ever. Obviously, the breathing of the two persons present was not audible; how could something that was missing be audible?

"What do you want?" he heard the sluggish voice of his Childe rasp out.

"Just bringing you your meal of the day," Angelus responded.

"I could smell it since before you came in, Angelus. You could have sent it with the minion you just told off," Giles said without shifting, every movement implied another dosage of raw pain. "Why are you *really* here?" he asked, not without a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Angelus smirked and lowered the bowl he carried until it was on the floor, just beside the door and some good meters outside the Watcher's reach. "You know me well," he allowed. "Since Buffy insists on not killing you, I brought the blood." He shrugged. "Of course, that doesn't meant I've forgotten your lack of loyalty, Watcher." He turned back and opened the door with a flick of his wrist. "Enjoy the smell. It'll be a long time until you can actually taste it."

Angelus smiled again when he heard the shifting mattress and the pained groan coming from the room.


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Veruca woke up when she heard the loud banging at her door. She sighed, still sleepy, and waited five more seconds to begin the routine of each morning.

"It's ok! I'm up, you ass!"

She heard a male chuckle and then the oh-so-annoying voice saying, "You should treat me better, little sister, or maybe I'll let you sleep all day and let *Dad* call you for breakfast."

Veruca stood up and walked towards her bedroom door. Opening it, she saw the familiar Tommy-patented smirk greeting her. "Get out of my way," she grumbled.

He did it but, strangely, still followed her in her way to the bathroom. Maybe if she didn't acknowledge him... "Er... Veruca?" No such luck, of course. She stopped and faced him. For the first time, she noted that he seemed a little flustered, as if he didn't like what he was about to do. "What is it, Thomas?"

He passed a hand through his short hair and looked at the floor. "Dad insists that I go with you today," he finally said.

She stared at him incomprehensibly for some moments. Then it dawned on her. "Oh no," she murmured distressed. He just nodded. "You can't do this to me!"

"This time it's not me, sis. The big man has spoken and you know that there's no other way."

"B-but..." she stammered, "he cannot do that. I'm not a little girl anymore!" How could her father be so heartless? It was unfair! Unfair! "I won't let you. I wont let *him*!" she finally cried out.

Thomas looked worriedly around them and shushed her. "Lower your voice or you won't get to go." Veruca just stared at him. "With or without me," he added seriously.

"But it's unfair," she whispered, "It's a date, Thomas. It's meant for *two*."

"I know." He looked sympathetically at the younger girl in front of him. "I promise I'll be good and won't say anything when you two are sucking face." Her gaze flew to him in a mixture of fury and amusement. He grinned down at her. "But if he tries anything else..." he threatened.

She punched him lightly in the ribs. "I could lose you," she said defiantly.

"I'd smell you and follow your track. It won't be pretty when I find you."

"True enough." She paused. " But I still don't understand why Dad won't let me go alone. Daniel is nice. He could be a good addition to us..."

"But Dad doesn't know it and he thinks you already spent too much time with a stranger."

"But he is not a stranger!" she exclaimed, "He is special. I *know* it. I *feel* it. Thomas, can't you try to..."

"Been there. Done that," he cut her off.

Her shoulders slumped. "So I guess you already tried to appeal," she said already knowing the answer. Her brother nodded again. She sighed in defeat and, without another word, went back on her track to the bathroom. She ignored Thomas' attempts to soothe her. After some futile seconds of calling her name, he shrugged it off as crazy female hormones and went to the dining-room where their mother was waiting with those delicious pancakes.

Veruca didn't notice him leaving.


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"How is my favourite girl doing?"

Darla looked up her vanity table to gaze into her father's grey eyes. She smiled merrily. "Don't let Mom hear that or she'll get jealous," she chirped and instantly regretted it. Henry's face clouded over as he gazed over her room.

"I'll keep that in mind, dear," he said. The tone in his voice made Darla wince. She should have known better than to say it, but it had been their trademark exchange for years, one Joyce would hear from afar and smile about. She maintained silence, letting her father say the first word. After all, he never came to her room unless it was important.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he began cautiously.

Darla shrugged and tried to decide between her brown and her black eyeliner. "Doesn't matter. I already guessed something like that would happen. It seems that *something* always happens to stop my fun, so I didn't get my hopes up..." She chose the black one; between it and the right amount of powder, it would be difficult for her parents to notice the black rings under her eyes.

"Don't talk that way," Henry chided his daughter, "It makes you seem bitter and cynical."

"I'm sorry." She turned to the mirror again and grabbed her powder puff again. She continued her interrupted make-up session, waiting for her father to bring up whatever he wanted to say.

"Maybe we can try to do it next week, after your mother decides that it has been enough time locked up," he suddenly told her. Darla noticed that he had said 'your mother' instead of 'we'. That meant that he didn't agree with his wife... again. Darla stopped a sigh. If it hadn't meant that there was *another* difference between her parents, she would have been beaming at his father's support. However, courtesy dictated that she gave an answer.

"Can't. That play is only up until this Saturday." This time she did sigh. Darla had been very excited at the prospect on going to the theatre alone with her father. The local newspaper remarked that the cast at the play was excellent and the plot itself very interesting. It had also been months since the last time she had spent some quality-time with her father. "Are you sure you cannot convince Mom to let me go? Just this once?"

Henry furrowed his brow. "I could," he allowed hesitantly, "but..."

Darla stopped her hand applying the lipstick. She knew those 'Buts'. Next, her father would explain that he had a lot of work to do at home or that...

"I'm going on a trip today, Dar. I'm needed in L.A. urgently," he hurried to explain. "Newton's father suffered a stroke in New Jersey and she has taken leave. I have to cover her post for a while."

"But you promised you would stay at home at least for a month..." she said miserably.

"I'm sorry, Dar. I really hadn't planned on this and I really wanted to stay with you, but..."

"It doesn't matter," she took a hairpin from her drawer and decided that crying would only ruin her work. And today she had excelled with the eyeliner! "I understand."

"It won't be long. Maybe just a week, but not before Saturday, I'm afraid."

"I already told you, Dad. I understand, believe me." She carefully applied the dark lipstick. With some luck it would cover the nasty scar she had gotten last night; it would only last a few hours, sure. But 'a few hours' were enough for her mom to take notice of it and wonder about its origin.

"Your mom says you have to go downstairs and help with the breakfast dishes," he finally told her when it was obvious that she wouldn't add any other comment.

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute."

On the surface of the mirror she saw her father's proud figure leaning at the windowsill and met his gaze again. She smiled briefly to show that she really wasn't mad at him and then grabbed the abandoned lipstick. She heard his steps across the room and in the corridor and down the stairs. She sighed again. One more time her father failed his word. Looking at her image intently, Darla decided that she would need a little more make-up if she didn't want her mother to notice the shadows under her eyes. After all, she had been sleeping peacefully all last night, hadn't she? Darla smiled wistfully and took her powder-box again.


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The last thing she saw in her dream was a brief glimpse of the dawn before the sky transformed into ice and soft snow began falling on them.

She awoke in a strange haze of relief and happiness. she wondered briefly. And the only explanation she could find was that, while sleeping, she became one with her dream-self and, being 'relief' and 'happiness' odd feelings for the unknown girl, then they became odd for her too. She shook her head; as if! Buffy Summers never felt relief because there was nothing to worry about in the first place, and Buffy Summers had to be the happiest vampiress on earth.

She smiled and rolled over the bed to kiss her reason to be happy every day.

She found empty air.

She opened her eyes and realised that she was alone in their room. It was odd. She was sure that it was already midday, for she could feel the tingle of the sunny rays just above her head. What would Angelus do outside their bed at midday? He knew that her sleep was fleeting at this hour and that only in his arms she could find blissful unconsciousness - or means to get tired - again.

Buffy tried to open her senses to look for a trace of him in the vicinity. No, there was nothing in the second floor. He had to be downstairs giving some order or maybe just smoking - she could never get used to his smelly cigarettes and he knew it. With a practised movement of feet, legs and arms, she brought the tangled sheet at her feet back to her chest. She loved the feel of satin against her skin; it made her remember those first years with Angelus in Liverpool, shortly after she had left Aberdeen and its Scottish demons. Buffy smiled at the memory of Angelus placing her gently on the first satin sheets of her life, she had decided in that moment that she loved them... and Angelus had made sure that she always had what she loved... including himself. That was why Buffy couldn't understand his absence.

"Oh, I see you woke up already," a voice whispered behind her.

Buffy started. She had been so lost in her memories that she hadn't heard him come. "And you weren't there to help me sleep," she reproached him.

Angelus smiled and was by her side in two strides. He lifted a brush from the night table and made her sit before him. Buffy arched her neck to look at him, "You still haven't said why---"

He shushed her with a long kiss. When her kisses turned demanding he withdraw gradually until he was kissing her nose, her chin, her cheeks. "Sit still." Buffy obeyed and sighed blissfully when she felt the brush going through her hair slowly, bringing some order into her disarrayed appearance. Angelus was always so careful and patient when it came to brushing her hair. He handled the brush so skillfully that it was more of a massage than a simple braiding. Next, he put one hand on her shoulder -leaving the other with the brush- and began to move it slowly in round motions. First one shoulder, then the other and soon Buffy was feeling his fingers at the base of her neck, killing off any tensions she might have had and leaving her practically purring at her lover.

"Sleepy?" he murmured finally and let his arms go around her body so she could lean against him. Buffy nodded drowsily and let herself fall asleep.

Angelus sat back on the headboard and put the brush back on the night table. He tried to make sense of the news Ford had told him and just pulled Buffy tighter to his body. Maybe later he could tell her and hear a good idea from her lips. She always created a good plan when she wasn't thinking of the moon or her dreams. He caressed her hair softly...

The first thing she saw in her dream was many young people in formal clothes dancing around. Then she lifted her eyes and saw *him* looking down at her and asking for a dance. In his arms she -no, not she. The girl- felt hope, fury, love and loss. A bittersweet smile when *he* pulled her closer. Buffy never liked 'bittersweet', but she smiled anyway when she felt known arms tightening around her.

Angelus saw her smile and kissed it.


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Oz's household was composed of a father, a mother and himself. So as he neared Veruca's porch he decided that the next time he went pick up a girl, he would ask first how many siblings she had. First, there was a little boy's voice screaming 'Boo' and a girl's cries were promptly heard. Oz wondered how he hadn't noticed *that* last afternoon when he had brought Veruca home.

He rang the door. Immediately, he heard a woman's voice shushing the kids impatiently. Phrases like 'be quiet', 'bedroom now' and 'stay there' were recognizable. In fact, some seconds afterwards he distinguished little steps going up the stairs. The little boy was muttering under his breath while his sister still hiccuped silently.

What?! How had he gotten to actually *hear* that last part? Oz just shook his head, he must have imagined it.

The sound of louder steps rushing to the door stopped his musings. He grinned, a mother would never *rush* to the door. Just as he thought, when the door finally opened a redheaded figure appeared and launched itself into his arms. Never wanting to disappoint his date, he brought his head to hers and kissed her... or he would have if he had not seen the smiling older woman behind Veruca. He decided for disentangling himself from her and just putting an arm around her waist. She directed him into the living room and then motioned him to sit on the sofa. "I'll be back in a minute." And then she disappeared from his view.

Oz smiled. True, in his short knowledge of girls and dates he was sure that 'a minute' actually meant twenty or more, but, for Veruca, he could wait and still smile.

"You must be Daniel," the woman said and sat herself beside him.

Oz nodded. "Call me Oz, please," he requested.

"What kind of name is that?" a thunderous voice said from the doorway.

Oz gulped. he thought frantically. He was known for his cool character, but how could one act detachedly when a man looked like he was about to murder you? "Mine, Sir," he said trying not to sound *too* nervous.

Veruca's mother smiled kindly at him. "And how did you think it up, Dan-- Oz?" she asked, trying to sound interested. Oz guessed that she didn't want her husband to begin 'interviewing' him. He thanked her wholeheartedly.

"Maybe it's his nickname in the local gang," the old man grumbled.

Oz ignored the taunt and focused on the woman. At least he was sure that she didn't want him for dinner. He stole a glance at the standing man. "My Dad's name is Daniel, Mr. Osbourne is my grandfather; I had to come up with something new," he explained.

"And about those fingernails..." Veruca's father began.

Oz looked down at his hands. For the first time in his life, he figured out that parents didn't like black nail polish on their little girl's dates... He could never thank fate enough when Veruca barrelled into the room with a backpack hanging from on shoulder. "I'm ready." Oz saw her throwing a hard look in her father's direction -which he responded to with a grim nod- taking a deep breath and turning to him. "Come now, it's already late." Oz rose. "Tommy.is.already.waiting.at.the.front.door."

"Tommy?"

"He is Veruca's older brother," Mrs. Salt clarified. Oz saw her turning to her husband with the same look Veruca had just given him.

"He'll be accompanying you today," the older man supplied, undaunted by the women's disapproving glares.

"Oh." Then Oz shrugged. "Well, it was great meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Salt, but we have to get there before all the good places are taken." He directed a last smile at Veruca's mother and began walking towards the entrance.

Veruca stayed in the living room some more seconds. "Yeah, Oz is right, we gotta get going." She cast a last half-pleading, half-furious glance at her father. He shook his head. Her mother shrugged helplessly. She sighed. "Bye Mom, Dad..."

She arrived at the door after the two boys had exchanged pleasantries. Oz directed them to his van, Thomas installed himself as comfortably as possible in the back of the vehicle with their bags and let his sister and her boyfriend alone. He shook his head. Oz seemed to be a decent guy, he really didn't want to be here.

"How old are you, Thomas?"

"Nineteen," he answered automatically. Then he raised his head at the oddness of the question. "Why?"

Oz continued as if he hadn't heard him. "Good thing we left early, then. You wouldn't mind if I make a stop at a friend's house, would you?" He turned to his two passengers. Both shook their heads. "Good." Then he made an U-turn.

After some moments it was Veruca the one who asked, "Where are we going?"

"To John's house. His older sister is always complaining that she doesn't have anything to do on weekends. I'm sure she'll gladly come with us. That's okay with you, isn't it, Thomas?"

Thomas grinned. This guy was decent *and* intelligent. "Of course, Oz." He caught a smile in the younger boy's face. "And call me Tommy. All my friends do."

Oz nodded and kept driving.

Veruca furrowed comfortably in her seat. Apparently, her date wouldn't go as badly as she had first supposed.


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When she woke up the next time it was to find Angelus' hairy chest just in front of her nose. That vision shut out any possible memory of the occurrences that had played out in her dreams. Next, she discovered that his legs were heavily pressed against hers. That, added to his arms circled around her body, formed a wonderful trap from which Buffy had no intention of escaping any time soon.

It vaguely made her remember the very first times of their relationship, back when her delicious trap had not only consisted of his wonderful body. Buffy wondered fleetingly where his 'toys' could have ended up in the course of the decades. Probably in some odd antiquary collection, she decided. Or maybe the damn Gypsies burned it all... She still remembered the fire surrounding her beautiful house, vampires rushing out of it in a hurry and getting staked by those vile villagers... And Angelus... Poor, poor Angelus swearing over and over that he would heed her 'feelings' from then on... Furious, furious Angelus bringing the chaos into a semblance of order for the first time in his unlife... Dark, dark Angelus holding her to him while he and Ford and Hugh and Michael opened a trail midst the enraged crowd... Flames and Fire. Shouts and Fear... and so many Ashes flying around. But none of them were hers, and none of them were Angelus'. And the love of her life did manage to bring his strongest minions to a nearby barn... Hunger and Danger... Silence and Fear... and then...

... Revenge.

Falling corpses at their feet. Sons of the Offenders breathing a last breath. Daughters of the Gypsies crying a last cry... and Blood... So much magick in the air that Buffy could nearly taste it on her tongue. So much magick in their hearts that Buffy could lick it off her hands...

... Revenge had been the only thing alive that night...

... and she had delved in the purity of it.


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*Real* Spike about *Real* Buffy:

SPIKE: You *don't* say? (gets up) Trouble?! (paces) She's the gnat in my ear! The gristle in my teeth! She's the bloody thorn in my BLOODY SIDE! (kicks the table violently)

ME: *sniff* Those were times where things were perfect. An enemy was just an evil (but adored by me) vampire and the boyfriend was a souled (also adored by me) vampire. When did things change so much?