The stink wouldn't come off.
She had tried the industrial soap, the spray, a washcloth, and she had rubbed her arms past the epidermis but she still smelled like him. Tobacco and liquor.
She had never felt so invaded before.
No, scratch that.
Buffy was determined to see this through. That amulet was the key to everything. To victory. To her happiness.
To Angel.
She hated this. And it had nothing to do with the act itself. That monster had it coming.
It was the way she was keeping him in it. Everything was going smoothly. And it had everything to do with her.
She knew she was going to do some unforgivable things with this. How could she not? But to be in those arms again and feeling his flimsy attempts at comfort and love just made her scrub all the harder. That stink wouldn't come off!
They had sex when she got back.
It wasn't supposed to happen, but she realized that was the only way to commit him to this. He was hers now.
Christ, it made her feel dirty. It was so different from the past hundred times when she was fucking a shell. This time was uncomfortably familiar to her. It reminded her of when she and Angel made love.
No, scratch that. It was…just about as good as when she and Angel made love.
But it was still sex. Nothing more. Gentle, soothing sex that made her feel at home. Made her almost feel loved. But it was still coming from a disgusting creature. It still wasn't Angel.
That sonuvabitch just doesn't know when to stop. To even have the gall to try for that kind of love is beyond her. How evil can one being possibly be? To dare reach for that kind of sacred love that she and Angel had? Pervert it to his own ends? Degrade it? That was private. And she'd kill anyone who tried to impose that on her who wasn't him.
And I let him try! her mind screamed. Her hands rubbed harder, trickles of red appeared on her arms.
Guess I'll have to live with it. And it will all be over soon anyway.
As she stepped out and dried, she had a sudden urge to vomit. She had done it before. All the big apocalypses in her past caused some kind of nerves. But as she investigated her leavings she didn't remember eating anything with Marinara before. It looked like a dark red. Almost like--
Have to get ready.
As she was leaving the bathroom, she flashed back to that time again. She did it a lot of the time, mostly focusing on her pain. But for some reason, probably because the idiot was going to die today, she thought about Spike's face. How horrified it looked. She never did let him finish that sentence. Didn't really need to hear the rest of it. Didn't matter.
Why couldn't it have been the mirror, she reflected regrettably. Why did it have to be the wall. If he smashed the mirror, there would have been glass shards. Could have pinned him. Taken the point to his face, his eyes. Carved all sorts of symbols and words all over that face of his. That handsome, flawless face save for that defining scar. Heard him scream her name and cry and beg. See if he discovered what "No!" really meant. All the while getting her revenge for that and all the other times he fucked up her life. Making such a simple equation more complicated. Why the fuck did he have to go get a soul?! Was he that deluded to think it would make a difference? That it would change anything?
I don't forget. I forget and I've failed. As a Slayer. As a Champion. As someone who's good.
Buffy walked back down the stairs trying to pick up where she left off. Screaming. Yes, that's it. He would be screaming and bleeding. Bleeding and screaming. Xander would walk in, probably surprised. Most likely appalled, though for what reason I can only guess. Then I'd scream at him what Spike tried to do. And Xander would get pissed, start kicking him. I'd hit Xander upside the head and hand him the bloody glass shard. He'd probably refrain for some reason. Then run to get a stake. And I'd grab the blind disfigured once handsomely devilish William the Bloody and throw him down to the first floor. Cut his Achilles Tendons so he couldn't walk. And just like Wesley in The Princess Bride the only thing I'd let him keep are his ears so he can hear the other demons recoil in horror and laugh. That ubercellulited skin freak would finally avoid him. (Maybe I should have killed him, too.) And then before I throw him out, I'd gut him so that his insides began spilling out. Saw through his tongue slowly and deliberately. Then I'd wave tata and send him on his merry way with a solid punch that would widen the splits I made on his leaking face.
And I'd laugh and laugh. Scream obscenities at him defiantly. "I am woman" kind of shit. Then after I took care of Warren and his rejects, I'd find him to finish the job. Eventually.
When she reached the bottom, the shmuck appeared in the hallway with a small smile and look of love and pride. He handed her the amulet, and Buffy panicked as she thought he was giving it up.
And then he bent over and she got what he wanted her to do. She placed the amulet around his neck. He straightened up and his smile got bigger, the love and pride just glowing from it.
She felt like throwing up again.
I can't wait to see what that amulet does to you.
She returned his smile.