How To Kill Your Boyfriend In One Hard Lesson Chapter 5, an angel fanfic

Disclaimer: Don't own, etc., etc. Joss Whedon rules supreme and retains pretty much everything. Only written for personal enjoyment and because this plot bunny just wouldn't die, even after some serious staking…

Summary: Occurs after Brother, Unfortunately Mine. Rating 18 for sexual references. The sibling theme is not entirely played out …

HOW TO KILL YOUR (PSYCHO) BOYFRIEND IN ONE HARD LESSON

Chapter 5 – Monstrous Machinations

"Hush, hush." Ffion closed his trembling hands around the hot toddy. "Drink this. Poor dear."

Nigel gulped the drink down then surged up from the armchair, pacing around Ffion's London apartment, his eyes still wild. Ffion watched him warily, recognising the signs of those occasional outbursts of almost psychotic rage that were the only occasions when she really feared – and fancied – him. He had tumbled into her apartment in the small hours, dishevelled and babbling. It had taken a good half hour to get him calmed down enough to be coherent.

"I couldn't let him ruin our wedding. I wanted it to be perfect. Perfect," ranted Nigel waving his arms in a way that made her eye the Crown Derby warily. "He stood there and let them attack me! He protected them, two vampires, he would have attacked me himself to help them! And that skinny freak! He's not a vampire's bum-boy because he's her whore, whatever kind of she-demon-bitch she is! She dangled me in the air, choking the life out of me, and he just stood there!"

"I heard Winifred Burkle was killed," murmured Ffion, trying to reconcile his description with the timid stick figure she had met, but many demonic half-breeds looked human on the surface…vampires being a classic example of their ability to disguise what they really were behind a human façade.

"She. Will. Be."

Ffion narrowed her eyes at her fiancé as he ground the words out, an ugly light in his eyes that she recognised. Ffion came to a decision; she couldn't let Nigel go off on his own vengeance vendetta as there was a good chance he would mess up her grand scheme, assuming that Angel didn't simply hunt him down and slaughter him if he went after Wesley. The vampire creature had proven itself to be rather possessive of it's underlings, particularly long-term sidekicks like Wesley, and distinctly homicidal towards those who tried to hurt them. Angelus of course would willingly kill Wesley, but removing Angel's soul by any means other than him experiencing that 'perfect happiness' was complicated, dangerous and had a low chance of working. Ffion bit her glossy lips – the perfect crime, whether pick-pocketing or mass murder, was only ever the one that you got away with. Nigel was brainy enough as far as it counted, and his seething resentment would be very useful.

"I suppose they were still smarting from my visit." she commented idly.

"I – what?" Nigel stopped wearing a hole in her very costly Persian hearthrug and stared at her. "What did you say?"

"I went to LA to tell dear Wesley to steer clear of our wedding myself." Ffion shrugged.

"But -? I mean - ?" Nigel stumbled.

"Oh come on, Nigel! I have a Pure Mathematics Degree from Cambridge and an IQ rating of 130," Ffion lied, deliberately knocking off a score points from her rating so she was ten less than Nigel's own score, "did you seriously think I was going to retire like a good little brood mare and play the gracious matron, dropping out rugrats for the cause in between doing my needlework?"

He watched her with wide eyes as she unfolded her long legs from the armchair and stood up, looking at him with amusement. "I have a plan, my dear. A very carefully laid out little blueprint." Walking over to the drawer of one of her occasional tables, she pulled out the worn sepia photograph of her grandmother with some of the other female Watchers taken in 1902. "This is my goal."

He looked at the photograph, squinting at the pendant. "I don't understand. Ffion, the pendant is passed down from generation to generation in the Giles family. Only when their line from the First Watcher is extinct can the pendant be passed onto the next oldest families in the Watcher…"

"Right." She smiled as she saw the light-bulb begin to flicker. "Seen a Mrs Giles and 2.4 kids around lately?" Leaning in close, she plucked the photograph from his hand and tossed it casually onto the coffee table before whispering, "The Stone of Kara-Ma is the power of the Watchers, my dear Nigel. Our lineage is the most ancient after that of Rupert Giles's family. I am going to hold the Watchers Council in the palm of my hand and nothing is going to stand in the way of that. Not a five-foot-nothing American whore, Slayer or not, nor her traitorous pet Watcher, nor even a dozen vampires with a soul never mind the two who have ensorcelled your pathetic excuse of a brother. I'm founding a dynasty here, Nigel, and my descendants – our descendents - are going to rule the Watchers Council with the Stone of Kara-Ma around their necks. How's that as a plan for you to be daddy's good little boy?"

Nigel licked his lips and blinked rapidly; staring at her for a moment, he suddenly jerked forward and before she could move out of the way, shoved her back against the wall, knocking aside the standing lamp with one swat of his hand. Automatically Ffion raised her hands defensively to push him back, but paused uncertainly when his face broke in a very wide, very nasty smile and he said, "Rupert Giles is a disgrace to us all." His hands gripped the sides of her skirt and shoved it roughly up her legs to bunch around her hips. "He's a traitor to the Council," silk tore easily and Ffion gasped aloud as he plunged inside her, "so would it be far off the mark for me to venture that nobody would really be broken up if Rupert were to be killed helping his Slayer whore, leaving the way clear for the pendant to be passed on a more worthy bearer of the stone?" Without care he simply yanked apart her blouse, ignoring the buttons that flirted everywhere as they tore holes in the material, pulling the clasp on her bra and roughly fondling her freed breasts.

Ffion locked her legs around his pelvis as he began to pump vigorously, clutching at his shoulders as he forced her higher against the wall. "Take it from m-eeee," she gasped, "Rupert…Giles…won't - make - it – until…C-C-Christmas…"

"And then I shall deal with my treacherous pervert of a brother." Nigel leaned in close to her, "Squeeze me…yessss." Panting, he gasped out, "But not too quickly. Speaking of Christmas, I'll truss him up like a Yuletide turkey, and him give a ringside view of me dusting those two creatures. I think I'll do the nigger next, or the green thing – whichever, it doesn't really matter. Then he can watch me fuck that skinny bitch and slit her open from belly to throat. He is my brother…so I'll slit his own throat and put him out of his misery at that point…"

"Do - it - shallow," Ffion groaned, "if you…oh…cut to just the right depth round his neck, it'll take him a couple of hours to bleed to death. Somewhere nice and quiet, we can leave him to bleed out next to his whore and surrounded by the bodies or little dust-piles…of his friends." Her eyes fluttered closed as the hot, delicious warmth began to tighten deep within her stomach, wonderful sensations making her head spin as Nigel pounded into her gloriously. As she sped towards her first ever genuine climax during sex with Nigel, she managed to impart, "There – is – ah-ah-aaah – j-j-just one…v-v-very small coooomplication…"

Continued in Chapter 6…