Hey, sorry for the wait on this one guys. The role play was kind of put to a halt. But here it is!

Angelus point of view

"You're going to be in trouble if those scar."

Angelus' lips curled upward in one corner, his brow rose and his eyes traced her neck till they found the evidence of the scar she already bore as a result of his hunger for her -- Angel's hunger, he mentally corrected, and then found himself annoyed that the clarification needed to be made. So what if Angel had bitten her? He was the vampire, Angel was just the fucking ball and chain.

"You already have a prettier scar from me, Buff." The pads of his fingers slid over the mark and he leaned closer to her, rubbing his cheek against hers like a large feline might its mate. His lips hovered a hairs breath above the brand from his last real taste of her, his breath stirring the tiny hairs to life. "Your blood sings to me, lover." He murmured, it was a strange moment for Angelus, he sounded almost tender.

The moment did not last, however and Darla's voice stirred the return of his vicious nature, he glanced at Buffy as though he found her boring, then at the cage Darla stood beside. Angelus reached for her chains, then paused. He studied the quiet resolve on the Slayer's face.

"If you try anything, I'll have my boys kill them."

Across town, Angelus' minions watched the Summers' house with feral eyes.

He waited for her muscles to relax before he undid the chains from the wall, he kept Buffy's hands and feet in their manacles, however and simply picked her up like a groom carrying his new bride to bed. Up close, as Buffy suddenly was to the vampire, she'd feel his strength, the power in those muscles and the particular scent that was his alone -- leather and cologne and the faint hint of mint -- fastidious bastard that Angelus was, he brushed his teeth after he fed.

Darla point of view

Darla watched hungrily as Angelus unhooked the chains from the wall, lowering the slayer in to his arms. Buffy was still bound in the chains that limited her movements, even IF she managed to get out of Angelus' grasp, she wouldn't be able to do much.

Having your hands and your feet chained together didn't leave much room for movement, what a pity for the slayer, she was as trapped as she had ever been in all of her life.

Moving slightly to expose the cage door to Angelus' direct path, Darla stepped over to the table beside the bed and lit several of the candles on the table. As the flames flickered and danced, she carefully chose a few of the metal tools laying on the bed, eyeing each one and testing them with her fingertip to be sure they were still sharp.

It had been a while since some of these tools had been used, and Darla wanted to be sure they were going to do what they were intended for, pain, it would be only the best for Buffy Summers. A wicked smiled graced her pale features as Darla laid the tips of the ice pick, file, and screwdriver on top of the candle, letting the flames heat the metal.

Angelus was now only a few feet from the bed, and Darla waited with anticipation for him to deliver the slayer into her grasp. It was time for the slayer to see just how much Darla appreciated that little trip to hell so many years ago.

Buffy point of view

Buffy watched Angelus's gaze move downwards after she spoke. She knew where they were headed. Her neck. The only scar left by him on her body. --No, left by Angel. When Buffy had let him bite her, to save his life... Buffy almost died that day. If Angel hadn't stopped right when he did, she could have.

The slayer watched as Angelus moved towards her, touching the mark lightly with his fingertips. Buffy stared hard at him, until his head lowered, his lips just above the two little puncture marks, his warm breath bathing the skin of her neck. The warmness of his breath contrasted against the cold that was already on Buffy's body.

Her small hairs on her neck pricked up, goose bumps slowly appeared on her arms. Buffy turned her head to the side, leaving her neck open, almost as an 'I dare you to.' gesture. At his next comment, Buffy opened her mouth to retort, but then stopped. Was that... was that tenderness in his voice? She frowned, her lips touching again, an image of Angel flashing in place of Angelus for a split second. Why did such a twisted man have to have the body of her only lover?

"Then why don't you sing back?" Buffy turned her eyes away, and glanced over at Darla, pushing away thoughts of Angel, and bringing her anger to the surface again. She glared hatefully at Darla, at the cage, at the weapons she couldn't see, and then at Angelus. Sick things... Sick.

And then, she felt Angelus's hands move up her arms to the chains holding her prisoner. Buffy's gaze jerked to Angelus, her heart pounding, waiting for the right moment to yank free and kill them both. He touched the shackles around her wrists, and then--

If you try anything, I'll have my boys kill them.

Buffy's heart sank in her chest, and its fast pace slowed. She couldn't try... She couldn't risk it. If he did have someone (or something...) watching her house, without Buffy there, it was too dangerous. She clenched her teeth, and glared at Angelus, wanting so much to punch his face in.

He pulled the chains from the wall, lifted Buffy in his arms like she weighed nothing at all, and began to walk towards Darla. Buffy felt the blood in her numb arms begin to circulate again; at least that was one good thing about being unchained. Just as a few moments before, she was reminded of Angel by being this close to Angelus. Her mind kept rejecting the image of Angel, however, until her whole self recognised the thing she was against as a monster. Buffy felt the muscular tones of his chest, smelled the leather and slight bit of mint mixed with it, and was repulsed. Every part of her body was screaming for her to pull herself from his arms, and try anything she could. Just to try.

But she couldn't. She couldn't risk getting her friends hurt...

As they neared Darla and the cage, Buffy found her hands balled up into fists, her muscles tensed. Her eyes darted to the little instruments Darla had laid out, and Buffy's blood ran cold. This was not going to be fun. This would not be fun at all. Buffy would be tortured, and she would be trapped. She'd be even more trapped in that cage than she was chained to the wall. Buffy hated that feeling. Being stuffed in something where she couldn't get out. The feeling of a prisoner...