Disclaimer: The characters contained within are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm just playing in the Buffyverse playground.
She had always made things difficult.
It came with the job she had learned. Buffy Summers knew something about the choices she had to make on that paranormal battlefield. Vampires as enemies. Vampires as friends. And, yes, vampires as lovers, both innocent and illicit.
It was the illicit one that most filled her head this year. The changes he had made. The soul. The suffering. And how they had managed to find…something. Friendship? Love? Something even more profound that she didn't have the articulation to express. Let alone define.
Who knew?
But in the arms that now held her tightly, supporting her burden, and engaging in a long-missed kiss of passion, one thing in her foggy existence became crystal clear. The floodgates had dried and the rainbow peeked out.
And she stepped back and gazed adoringly at her sun. Unbidden. Unrestrained. Unshackled to that other one and his loyalty and devotion.
What did he know of it? For her love has returned when she most needed him. When he had no reason to return. To fight at her side. Where he belonged.
The other. He knew of no other path but to follow her. To be with her. But seeing Angel now, puts it all into perspective. That other is a pale reflection. A sick clone. Bizarro to his Superman. She has awakened to the reality after blinding herself to the comforting illusions.
This, this vampire champion, her first love, was the key to completing her. She didn't need that other one anymore.
"Well, I guess that qualifies as being happy to see me," Angel quipped.
His voice warmed her throughout her body. Especially, in those areas only she and he knew about, when they couldn't consummate their love, but give each other tastes in all those zones they had mapped out and explored. They lit up from familiarity and pleasant personal memories. The kind she replayed in her mind and added to, leaving her in incomplete, frustrated rapture. But oh, God, did she give it her best.
"Angel what are you doing here?" she asked. But decided against spoiling this moment. Doing away with small-talk and filler. No. Their conversations were poetry. And she would hold up her end.
"Don't even. I just want to bask."
Shit! Maybe after all the General Park is done, Summers. You know? Macarthur?
"Okay, I'm basked," Buffy said seriously. We're at war, dammit! Act like it! "What are you doing here?"
Sadly, she couldn't tell whether the slight frown was from surprise at her imposed brusqueness or the gravity of the situation. But Angel recovered his adoringly fond smile and her zones sang once more.
"Not saving the damsel in distress, that's for sure."
Oh, my love. You have no idea how much you've…No, keep it light. It'll come when it comes, but don't force it.
"Not much for the damseling," Buffy replied. "You know me."
Before Buffy could express her gratitude for saving her, Angel strode back to get his folder. "Got your share of distress, though."
Buffy shook her head in bemused admiration. "You heard?"
"I got coverage on the whole thing. Very gripping," he said lightly. "Needs a third act."
Buffy inwardly winced. That was one of the lamest jokes she'd ever heard. What the hell was that place doing to him? Her Angel always knew the right thing to say that would make him…a paragon of heroism. She loved him, no question. But the bad puns were more evidence how L.A. had diminished him. He was a vampire legend, a Champion!
She would bring him back to his stature. Where he would stand loyally at her side. The Vampire and his Lady Slayer. His queen.
She fingered the scythe involuntarily. Gripping it a bit tighter. "You have got to get out of L.A.," she managed.
Quickly, Angel regained his heroic stoicism. What made the Slayer insecure in love become drawn by love's undeniable pull. She surrendered willingly. Giving everything she had, save her life. And if he asked , she realized she would have given that up as well. She almost did. When he drank from her. The memory made her moist. How her brain screamed out "Devour me! Eat me!"
But it was the time when she laid her virginity out for him to take she remembers most. It was wonderful. Beautiful. He was so gentle and she so trusting. Such a child, yet no longer. And what it wrought was so horrific.
Even more so because she was still drawn to him even without a soul. She was scared then. Young. But now she secretly wants the challenge to take him and debase him and make the great Angelus hers. To fuck. And fuck. And fuck.
And eventually he would love her just as that other loved her. His rival, she thought with a smirk. Because she had the power to make them. William and Angel both wrapped inexorably around her finger.
Spike had taught her well what she was capable of. She'd have to thank him later.
"It's the First, right?" Angel said bringing Buffy reluctantly back to the present. "The First Evil. The power that tried to convince me to kill myself."
She fought to shrug it off, the time when he was at his lowest. She could have killed him back then, because of his weakness. If it happened again, she would have no trouble at all.
No! Stop it. That isn't Spike. It's Angel! You love Angel!
Don't you?
"It's gotten a bit more ambitious since then," she explained. "It's trying to raise an army."
Angel scoffed and Buffy swooned. "Yeah, well I'm here to tell you--"
And suddenly, Angel was thrown skidding across the floor where he bumped his head. Buffy stared in horror as her beloved was knocked unconscious and heard the hateful drawl.
"Are you ready to finish this? Bitch?"
It was that last word's exaggerated inflection that took some of the murderous anger from Buffy's sails. And it suited her just fine. She needed to stay focused, regardless of Angel's incapacitation.
And then how she would kill him.
"Okay, how many times I gotta kill you? Ballpark figure?"
Good Summers. Don't let him faze you. Throw him off. And then kill him. Slowly.
She thought of Spike's misogyny then. His taunts. The way he almost violated her in that bathroom. Dared act like she was weak. Why did she spare him, she thought bitterly. I should have buggered him with a flaming plunger handle. See how he liked being violated. Channel it, Summers. Think of Spike. Think of Spike. Think of Spike and his pathetic attempt to gain your favor with that soul. Making a mockery of Angel. How dare he!
Caleb's no better than him. Use it.
"You understand nothing," Caleb boasted.
And the game was joined. Punches were hurled, kicks were loosed. The primal rage that fuelled Buffy. The rage Spike had introduced her to. The rage she would always have knowledge of thanks to that damned, obsessive, sick thing that needed to be ended. For her sake. For the world's sake.
Her punches flew faster. Hit harder. And she grinned in orgasmic ecstasy from the crunching sound of flesh on flesh and the splatter of blood that filled her senses. She indulged in it, that bloodlust.
"You think you have power over me? Stupid girl!" Caleb spit, black poisoned blood dripping from his mouth. "You don't have the ba--"
Neither do you. Buffy thought. Then taking her sweet time, she slowly sliced him open. The more he screamed, the more enflamed she became. At some point, just briefly, and looking back chalking it up to her imagination, she thought she heard Caleb beg for mercy. And she finished the job with relish. Beaming with pride that she made a servant of the most powerful evil in existence beg. The power she had. Somehow or another they all begged when it came to her. For love. For mercy. To be part of her family. And it was all up to her.
It was like a drug. That power.
Angel shot up in fury. "All right now I'm pissed. Where is he?"
She let herself have this pun for old times sake. She missed it sometimes. But she shrugged it off. She was a girl back then.
Angel would know her and love her as a woman.
"He had to split," she snorted.
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Shrouded in shadows, silently watching stood Spike with the First hissing its temptations. Playing a desperate hand.
Spike just continued to watch as the woman he loved and his hated rival enjoyed their reunion. Strange how resigned he was to it all. Maybe the soul really had made him soft.
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Buffy took the folder, wanting desperately to feel his hands again. But the transfer was too quick, much to her annoyance.
"I'll have the guys go through it. See if there's anything we can use. Reliable source?"
Angel sighed grimly. Buffy swooned.
"Not remotely," he muttered.
"Any port in an apocalypse," she reassured him, her hand running possessively along the scythe handle.
"Brought something else as well," Angel said. Then he pulled out the gaudiest looking piece of crap Christmas ornament Buffy had ever seen. She was growing frustrated. No champion of mine is going to be seen with that hideous thing!
"Got nothing to go with that," Buffy joked with effort.
"It's not for you."
Thank God.
"Splainy?"
Way to make him see the woman, Summers. Hopeless bitch.
"I don't know everything," Angel admitted. Buffy sighed at Angel's ignorance. My Champion will be on top of things! She would divest him of all his flaws, even if he ended up resenting her.
After all, Spike had divested her of her naive faith and goodness. And she became a better weapon because of it.
"It's very powerful and probably very dangerous. It has a purifying power, a cleansing power, possibly scrubbing bubbles. The translation is, uh—anyway, it bestows strength to the right person who wears it."
Oooh, it has power!
"And the right person is?"
"Someone ensouled," Angel said heroically with Championly swagger. "But stronger than a human. A Champion. As in me."
Buffy inwardly laughed at Angel's cocky assumptions. I'm not that little girl anymore, Angel. I wear the power around Sunnydale. But you'll learn that soon enough.
"Or me."
"No. I don't know nearly enough about this to risk letting you wear it."
So it might be dangerous. Hold on here. Maybe I was too hasty.
"Besides you got that axe-thing."
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Spike could bear this hell no longer. He left.
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Buffy's hand fondled and stroked the handle, an evil glint in her eye.
"So you're gonna be with me in this?" she asked.
"Shoulder to shoulder," Angel nodded. "I'm yours."
She thought it would take longer to make her choice. It was a tough call. Just like old times, indeed. She had missed them so. His touch. His lips. The way he fought on her team--they fought as a team.
God, how she wanted that back.
So she made the choice that guaranteed she'd have a chance. And naturally, he wasn't happy.
"Why not?"
"Because I can't risk you," she honestly told him.
"You need me in this."
Conceited bastard. I'll cure you of that as well
"No, I need you gone," she argued.
"Why?"
Dammit. Don't you get it, yet?
"If I lose, if this thing gets past Sunnydale, then it's days—maybe hours—before the rest of the world goes. I need a second front, and I need you to run it."
Angel crossed his arms skeptically. Buffy took note and her hand clamped down on the scyth again.
"Okay, that's one reason," he said. "What's the other?"
Buffy strode swiftly past him not even bothering to meet his eyes.
"There is no other."
"Is it Spike?"
She almost got to the fucking gate, too.
"You're not telling me something. And I remember his scent pretty well."
Buffy whirled around to stare at him. Of all the audacious thoughts! Can I help it if he doesn't lose his soul after I bang him a hundred times! Have you forgotten?
But she shrugged it off. She had to. If he knew the truth, he would never forgive her. And she would make him pay for that.
"You vampires," she laughed. "Did anyone ever tell you the smelling thing was gross."
Angel didn't let up. Buffy's teeth gritted and the scythe was begging to be used.
"Is he your boyfriend?"
Buffy sighed. She wanted to assure him so desperately, but she couldn't help resenting his faithlessness in their love. Spike taught her how to toy with others in their sickly satisfying games. So she would use that knowledge to teach her loved one a lesson.
"Is that your business?" she threw back.
Angel stared at her in incomprehensible disbelief. "Are you in love with him? Maybe I'm outta line, but we are talking about Spike here."
Okay, Angel. You say you love me and you wanna be with me. Now's your chance to prove it.
"It's different. He's different," she challenged. Buffy smirked as she dropped the kicker. "He has a soul now."
Angel stood silent for a second, trying to grasp all this. Buffy waited for his response in anticipation.
"Oh, well," Angel pouted. "That's great."
Buffy couldn't believe it.
Idiot! Challenge him for my hand! Fight for me, you jackass!
She thought about her next move.
Maybe he needs more incentive. Really slam it home.
"He'll make a difference."
"I started it," Angel said angrily. "Before it was all the cool new thing."
Now Buffy was completely flabbergasted. This is not what she expected at all. The sonuvabitch is walking all over your turf! The turf that I will gladly trod upon in humble adoration and love with you. We can bring each other back into the light!
So go back there and kill him!! For me!!!
"God, are you twelve?" Buffy mocked, trying to emasculate him into action.
"I'm getting the brushoff for Captain Peroxide! It doesn't bring out the Champion in me!"
A child, Buffy thought bitterly. I'm in love with a two-hundred-plus old child.
"You're not getting the brushoff," she admonished. She thought of something else to bring out his darkness. Another thing to thank Spike for. Once she was afraid of it, now she wanted to gorge herself in it.
Gotta hand it to the bleached bastard. Thanks to him, she discovered dark strength she didn't even know she was capable of.
"Are you gonna get Dawson on me every time I have a boyfriend?"
"Aha!" Angel exclaimed. "Boyfriend!"
"He's not!" she practically screamed. But she pushed a bit more. Maybe she would go and kill Spike and it would all be over. But even if she didn't this was just too much damn fun.
"He is in my heart," she admitted coyly.
Angel threw up his hands. "That'll end well."
"What was the highlight of our relationship," Buffy shrugged. "When you broke up with me or when I killed you?" Her hand refused to loosen up on that scythe handle. And she stared at the blade absent-mindedly.
"I'm well aware of my stellar history with guys…," Buffy sighed regrettably. Scott Hope with no head. Parker with no testicles, crying like a bitch as she would skewer him, pulling out his organs with the scythe one by one. Allowing the vampire whores to fuck and drain Riley at all his main arterial points while Buffy would force the monsters to do it at scythe point. Spike. Oh, Spike. You have no idea what I'd do to you. And I'd let it go on for days and days until I couldn't think of anything else I could possibly do to you with the scythe.
"And, no, I don't see fat grandchildren in the offing with Spike, but I don't think that really matters right now," she says wistfully. She thinks for a moment, trying for philosophical profundity and briefly recalling that philosophy professor possessed by a succubus. She should have tried harder to save her, but, oh well. She was flunking her anyway.
"You know, in the midst of all this insanity, a couple things are actually starting to make sense. And the guy thing—I always feared there was something wrong with me, you know, because I couldn't make it work. But maybe I'm not supposed to."
Damn straight. Men suck. Spike's selfless actions have sucked the soul right out of me. He dared to one up me!
One up him.
"Because you're the Slayer?" Angel asks.
Buffy sighs frustrated with Angel's attempt at simplicity. She fights down an urge to pummel him for his stupidity. And also because it would feel great.
But she loves him. So she lets his fallibility slide.
"Okay," she begins haltingly. "I'm cookie dough."
The minute I see some kind of hitching, smirking, or hear any chuckling. I'm dicing him, love or no.
Satisfied that Angel's keeping serious-face, she goes on.
"I'm not finished becoming whoever the hell it is I'm gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat—"
Devour me! Swallow me whole! She forces herself back to the present before she can succumb to her romantic past.
"---or enjoy warm, delicious cookie me, then...that's fine. That'll be then. When I'm done."
Angel tries hard to process all this, doing his best to be as subtle as he can about the fact that his tongue is bleeding due to the teeth clamped down on it.
"So any thought who might enjoy--" He lets the line drop as he has no effort to finish with such a stupid metaphor.
If Buffy could read his thoughts, he wouldn't be getting out of Sunnydale at all. He wouldn't even be solid.
"Not thinking that far ahead," she shrugs. "Kind of the point."
Accepting, not satisfied but accepting, Angel hands the amulet over to Buffy. She finally gets to feel those hands for a brief period. She commits it to every memory in the brain where her bank is stored.
"Guess I'd better start working on that second front," he sighs. "Make sure I don't use it."
Angel slinks back into the shadows. For Buffy the moment runs in slow-motion. He glides through the mist and she sees the way his physicality expresses itself through his powerful strides. She licks her lips and can't help herself.
"Angel!"
He turns around.
"Sometimes, I do," she says sheepishly. "Sometimes I do think that far ahead."
Angel can't help but grin back. "Sometimes is something."
He needs something. A promise. Anything. I can't just let him go like that. He needs to fear straying from me.
"Be a long time coming. Years if ever," she says warningly. And for good measure she starts playing with the scythe.
She hopes he got the message.
"I ain't getting any older," he says. And soon his image fades into the inky night.
You'll come back for me. Buffy fingers the amulet, pondering her next move. She grins as her Machiavellian instincts create a scheme out of the ether where once stood the temple of her innate morality.
I'll make sure of it.