Chapter 1: One Girl…To Stand Alone…
Preface

He was gone. There was no way around it. Taken from her forever in a swirl of fire and ashes; dust and regrets: Dead for the final time. She was stupid, she knew it. She should have said she loved him far before his final seconds here on earth. It was a cheap copout to tell him she loved him in his last moments. She berated herself relentlessly about the things she did to him on a daily, if not hourly, basis. She cried herself to sleep every night, her mouth opened in a silent scream, her mind saying the things she couldn’t, no, the things she wouldn’t voice to any other person.

No one knew how terrible she really felt inside; how her wounds themselves were vampires, feeding off her will to go on. No one saw how torn up she was at losing the only man that had NEVER left her willingly, the one that loved her always, the one whose love had burned so brightly it had taken out the first face evil had ever known. They were happy enough to believe that she was having the time of her life with the Immortal. She worked tirelessly at convincing everyone around her that Spike didn’t matter, that she had only seen him as her strongest ally and therefore only put up with him because of that. They were happy enough to believe her so long as she wasn’t interrupting everyone else’s newly and carefully constructed lives. They were always happy to believe her as long as she lied to them.

They never noticed the small looks of disgust that she couldn’t hide when He touched her. It went unnoticed, or perhaps it was simply unimportant to them, how much time she spent up in her room, coming down strictly when she had to put on a show for them at meal times, like a puppet on tired, broken strings. She left her apartment only to slay and keep up appearances with the Immortal.

No one noticed anything, ever. All too caught up in their own perceptions of her happiness to see how the person that had saved them all was slowly becoming a shell of her former vivacious self. She thought about everyone, not just Spike, all the time. Thought about how they never came looking for her to go out, or spend time together, how they never called her or even texted her just to say hi.

Dawn had a new boyfriend, some Italian jock from the university she attended that she had met and fallen for. Dawn had little time for anyone else but herself, she hadn’t even bothered call Buffy in almost two weeks.

Buffy couldn’t blame her; if she was in love with a hot Italian stallion she would look for every opportunity possible to be with him too. But Buffy didn’t have an Italian Stallion she had fallen for; she didn’t even have a pony. Her love was buried under the town she had destroyed, condemned forever to rest as a pile of ash just inside of what used to be the entrance to the Sunnydale hell mouth. But that wasn’t true was it? No, he had destroyed the town, and she had destroyed the man.

Willow, well Willow had gone off the grid somewhere in Brazil, Kennedy in tow, and if there was one person Buffy couldn’t stand to be around, it was Kennedy. They kept in touch through email, but at times it seemed so impersonal that she couldn’t imagine it was Willow writing to her. It seemed like an automaton was sending her correspondences, rather than the girl that was supposed to be her best friend.

Buffy hadn’t talked to Xander in almost four months. The last time they had spoken he called and told her that he was taking an extended vacation and that he would be back when his head was screwed on straight. He’d hung up the phone without a goodbye and that was the last she’d heard from him. But then that was Xander to a tee, expecting everyone to fall in line with what his black and white vision regardless of who he hurt in the process.

‘Willow has a message…kick his ass’. That had been his first real betrayal.

Giles had little time for anyone these days, though he sent her weekly reports that she suspected he was paying someone else to do. They were always the same, bland and boring with small notes asking her to take care of certain nasty’s that couldn’t be contained. Her father figure had turned into her boss, he too was buried somewhere in the remnants of Sunnydale with her mother. She was hurt by the fact that it seemed like he no longer cared for her, because like everyone else he was only too happy to believe that she was fine, that she didn’t desperately need someone notice her deterioration, to help her keep on living, like Spike had so long ago begged of her.

Sadly enough it was Andrew she was around the most. Annoying, Star *insert whatever* fan Andrew. Giles had happily sent him with her to Italy for watcher training, even though everyone but Andrew knew it was simply to get him out of Giles’ hair. Andrew though annoying and often ripe smelling, was far too geeky for anyone to handle in large doses, but he had this inane ability to distract her from her problems and grant her some fragments of the peace she needed.

Present time


She went out with the Immortal to kill time and make it look like she was living life to the fullest. They went to dinners and movies and various other activities that kept her mind off of the things she had lost, on the surface anyway. This was the first time that he had taken her dancing, having deigned himself too important to partake in such trivial and mortal endeavors. Which was why she was surprised when he had suggested it. It suited her just fine though as she preferred not to be so close to his looming body. Often times, by the end of an evening out with him, she found herself wondering just how immortal he really was, fingers itching to find out.

The beat pounded, all around her bodies were heaving to and fro to the tempo of the music. She was lost to the feel of it pulsing on her skin, making her clothes vibrate with every thrum of the bass. The Immortal and all his lackeys were reclining on a couch, watching her, leering. She ignored them all in favor of losing herself to the music. It was often during times like this that she could blissfully let herself forget, for a few moments at least, that she had lost Spike and why she was with someone as pompous and annoying as the immortal. And every time, every single time she contemplated those thoughts she came up with the same answer: boredom.

She was dancing, letting loose for the first time since Sunnydale had collapsed. She felt free. Free to close her eyes and pretend that the countless bodies gyrating around her gave off even and iota of the warmth Spike’s cool body had always provided. When her eyes were closed her platinum blond lover was always there, sweet and naughty nothings pouring into her ear. But most importantly, when her eyes were closed she could feel his arms around her, could feel that her tragically timed ‘I love you’ had been understood for what it was, the truth.

She thought she was imagining it at first. The way her skin tingled and goose bumps rose on her arms. She stopped dancing; almost paralyzed with hope that he was really there, that he wasn’t a pile of dust under thousands of pounds of wreckage. Moving off of the dance floor in a blur of motion she hunted for him through the mass of people crowding the overly popular club. She pushed her way passed sweating bodies and grinding couples, following his special signature – the one that had always screamed inside her to go to him, hoping against hope that he was really there and that she hadn’t finally lost her mind.
As she pushed her way past a bouncer on her way to the door, she saw him; a white blonde head attached to a leather encased body and her heart stopped. She started to yell out his name, only to be stopped short by the man she had come with.

His greasy black hair and even greasier face swam into her vision blocking the one thing in the entire world she wanted. His voice snaked over the music and slithered to her ears, making white hot rage boil in her veins.

“Now Bella, what is it exactly do you think you’re doing? You belong with me now. You belong to me. I know we haven’t…made it official yet but. Really mi amore, he is a loser and will not be long for this world anymore. Come back with me now Bella. My most beautiful slayer, come with me, dance, be happy. You are loved by none other than the infamous Immortal.”

His disgusting hands were creeping over her arms, making fresh waves of goose bumps rise along their lengths. Nausea rolled in her stomach, threatening to let loose a torrent of sick all over the “infamous Immortal”.

Wrenching her body free from his vermin like hands, she started to scream at him over the pounding music. “I AM NOT YOURS DAMN IT! IM SPIKE’S, I ALWAYS HAVE BEEN AND I ALWAYS WILL BE.” As she yelled, she started towards him, pausing only to raise her tiny fists to let loose a flurry of furious punches, every word being punctuated by a hard hit to his face, “YOU…WILL…NOT…TOUCH…HIM…!”

By the time she had, landed three hits he was on the ground and the members of his entourage were forcefully shoving aside people in their quest to get to their master. When she was done yelling, she kicked him viciously in the side over and over again while his guards tried to frantically pull the now psychotic slayer off him.

It took five demon guards to suppress her and hold her long enough for the Immortal to get off of the clubs floor. He gracefully rose without the help of any of his people, pulling a silk handkerchief from the lapel of his jacket as he did so. As he mopped the blood from his badly bruised face he began to laugh mirthlessly. “Well Bella, I didn’t expect that, but I suppose it comes with possessing the slayer. Ahh, in time you will get to know your place, but for now I have to go and take care of that blonde headed nuisance once and for all. I shall see you when I get home Bella.” He leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek and she found herself trying not to retch.

He turned to look at his guards before selecting the largest two from the bunch. “Mario, Antonio you will find me Spike and bring me his ashes. Do it any way you must, but he must be dust before sunrise. Are we to understand?” they nodded their assent before he spoke again, “Good. I shall meet you at the Piazza when you are done with your task.”

Dismissing them, he once again turned to Buffy and her captors, “Take Bella to my villa in Amalfi, I shall meet you there in a few days.” He looked at her again, seeing the fury written on her face and the anger burning in her eyes and uttered one more sentence before departing, “Lock her up and drug her if you must.”

Immortal(ity)

The trunk reeked of cheap perfume and Buffy wondered briefly if she wasn’t the first woman to have upset the Immortal. How long she was in there she couldn’t tell, but she had screamed until she was sure she tasted the metallic tang of blood in her throat. It had to be soundproofed, or, she was somewhere where it didn’t matter no matter how much she cried out for help – it wouldn’t come. Maybe it was both, either way she was screwed.

She was only slightly surprised at its strength – unharmed after a series of kicks and punches - but it would figure that someone who had been around when Rome was being built and for the premiere of all the Godfather movies would have a reinforced car…fucking Italians. The trunk was, of course empty, no tire iron or wrench kit, nothing but lint and sand and that smell of cheap perfume that was making her nauseous. Her legs were aching, her knuckles bleeding, and with a thought that left her pale and shaking she remembered her coffin and the subsequent events that had followed…the way his eyes had gone from disinterested to awed the moment he released she wasn’t the Buffy-Bot, the way he’d held her hands careful not to touch the wounds, the way he knew exactly how long she’d been gone, minus a day, because that day couldn’t count now, could it?

When panic started to grip her heart and she started to hyperventilate the car mercifully slowed to a stop. She could feel the doors of the car open and close, counting the seconds until she heard the trunks latch pop. Buffy was momentarily blinded by the sun rising over the horizon before 5 huge shapes loomed into view effectively blocking the bright light.

Squinting up at them she saw Drago first, the immortals head goon, motion to the two demons closest to the car. They moved slowly up to her, fear making them cautious and when they were positioned over her at either end of her trunk she lashed out, her left foot connecting squarely with the jaw of the man near her feet. She spun up quickly, maneuvering onto her knees before leaning toward the one near her head and slamming him with a hard right hook, biting back the ghost of a satisfied smile she felt the bones crush under her assault, but she wasn’t satisfied – wouldn’t be until she could get to Spike.

As soon as her fist had met flesh, she felt a sharp sting followed by an intense pain radiating from the left side of her body. Looking down she saw a small, thin hypodermic needle protruding out from between her ribs. Wondering for split second why Slayers didn’t have stronger skin while the words “Well that’s not good” tumbled from her lips before she lapsed into unconsciousness.

***

When she came to she was in an opulent room on a large, luxurious bed. Glancing from side to side she realized that whatever drugs they had put into her system were still present, her movements jerky, uncoordinated. Her head collapsed back into the pillows hoping to alleviate the dizziness she was feeling. Several deep breaths later found her slightly more calm and able to hone her senses, to take in her surroundings with clearer eyes. The room was light, airy, and held a hint of ocean salt; giving her the impression she was captive in a mansion on a secluded island. The walls were covered in cream colored silks and a large mahogany armoire was placed next to the door she assumed led to the bathroom. Sliding to the edge of the bed, wary of how her body would react to sudden movements, she moved slowly to the open balcony doors and she hatefully realized the view was breathtaking. The sun seemed to be drowning slowly in the gently moving waves and she bit back tears, this place too beautiful for the darkness it concealed.

She stood there for a few moments, contemplating her next move while looking out onto the now blood colored sea. She was so caught up in her musings that she hadn’t noticed that the door ‘her’ room had opened. It wasn’t until her ‘spidey senses’ started to tingle that she realized she was no longer alone.

Spinning quickly she found herself face to face with her captor. He smiled down at her cruelly as he folded his arms against his chest, a weak gesture of power from a man who needed to resort to kidnapping and poison to get the woman. The Immortal stood there, eyes practically licking at her body: she was a delicacy just waiting to be devoured; she was the flavor of the month and nothing more. The old adage ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’ flitted through her mind and she fought back the urge to vomit, his unwanted attention both repulsed and sickened her.

“What do you want asshole?”

“Bella, such a foul mouth you have, is that anyway to talk to the man that is your savior? The man that will raise you up on a pedestal?”

“I don’t think savior is the right term to associate with your kind of filth.” She spat back taking a step away from him, covertly glancing around for an escape that didn’t involve the long jump from the balcony that Slayer or not, would shatter her legs.

“Cara Mia, there is no way out. I told you…YOU belong to ME. You will not leave this place until you realize that I own you and that you are mine.” He gave her one last look before turning and heading back to the only way out of prison cell. He stopped in the doorway and looked at her, “The sooner you realize that the faster you and I can get on with our eternity – or until I tire of you in the very least. Forget about Spike, he is gone forever. It is only you and I now. I do not care for, how do you say? Competition. Good night my Bella, sweet dreams.” He reached into his coat pocket pulling out a small compact snuff box, placing it on the entry way table.

He gave her one last look before moving out of the room, the door shutting behind him with an audible click.


She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look. How was Spike gone? HOW?! How could he be gone when she had just found him? How could he be gone before she had the chance to make things right between them, to tell him, show him, just how much she loved him. She had a sinking sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. A small box – it didn’t seem right that it would contain a champion – her champion, how could it be right that over a hundred years of life was locked inside it? She knew what she would find in that box; ashes. Not cigarette ashes or ashes from a fireplace. No they would be the ashes of her true love. The ashes of the man that had gotten a soul for HER for fucks sake.
Had his soul felt the burn too she wondered, did it feel his screams as his body crumbled into embers?

On unsteady legs she slowly walked across the room to the small, seemingly unimportant, snuff box resting on top of the table. Her hands shook as she reached for it, a sob tearing through her throat and echoing around the room as she opened it. She sank to the floor hysterical tears obscuring her vision, dripping onto the remains of her love. The box tumbled from her shaking hands onto the impeccably clean floor, soot and ash covering it in a fine gray film.

At the end the tears and the pain and the love didn’t matter, all that mattered, and all that would ever again, was vengeance.

Focusing her rage until it was almost tangible she vowed to make the bastard pay for the rest of his so-called immortality. ‘That bastard will PAY! The Powers That Be help him when I get my hands around his filthy, greasy, Italian neck. Immortal huh? We’ll see how fucking immortal he is when he gets a taste of THE slayer.’

Maddening thoughts rampaged through her head while her hands showed a gentility she couldn’t even begin to process while she swept up her one-time lover’s ashes before putting them back in the tiny box they had been delivered in. She couldn’t feel the tears pricking at her eyes, or the path they followed down her cheeks, but she knew they were there.

“Don’t worry Spike, I’ll keep on living…so that one of us is living, even if it kills me. I’ll get my vengeance, that bloody Italian fuck will pay for taking you away from me.” she whispered to the air around her, hands cradling the box to her heart.

She stood up straight when the air began to shimmer and thick swirls of smoke seemed to come from nowhere, trying to get a feel for what was in the room with her. Placing the box back onto the table by the door she kneeled into a fighting crouch, hoping to catch whatever was here – or coming – off guard. When the acrid smoke cleared she was surprised…no, more than surprised, to see D’Hoffryn.

“Miss Summers, I could hear your call from miles away, I couldn’t believe my ears, a Slayer seeking out a demon…but then, that seems to be your pattern. What is it you wish?

She looked at him quizzically for a moment, contemplating what to do.
‘let him have my vengeance or watch the Immortals blood spill over my own hands as I tear him limb from limb…choices choices…?’ The answer was ridiculously easy.

“Sorry, this is my fight, and I never called for you.”

“You didn’t have to Miss Summers, your pain did.”

She waved her hand, as if trying to swat away a fly. “Thank you, but no thank you.”

“Now slayer, what kind of vengeance god…I mean demon, would I be if I just left you alone? Let me sit with you perhaps we can come to a suitable solution. The Immortal must have done something terrible for you to be so outraged that I could hear your pleas from deep inside my realm.”

He motioned for her to sit at the small coffee table he had morphed into existence. He waved his hand again and a small oval decanter of pink liquid appeared on the table accompanied by two small glasses that matched the bottle he had conjured.

Buffy looked at him skeptically before deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to a master of vengeance, if not for help in the actual vengeance itself then for help in figuring out what was the cruelest way for someone to die, at the very least. She was confident that she would remember not to say the word ‘wish’ anyway – if Slayers had anything it was discipline.

She sat at the small table and eyed the rosy crystal bottle.

“What’s in that? I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

D’hoffryn laughed before responding, “Demon alcohol. Its enchanted to taste like your favorite drink.” He looked up at her as he poured them each a sizable measure, a grin tickling the sides of his mouth when he noticed her questionable look.

“Demon…Alcohol?”

“It’s not any more potent than your average spirit here in the mortal world” he said as he raised his glass.

“I have nothing left to lose.” she mused aloud as she promptly picked up the proffered glass and titled it towards her demon companion before downing the contents.

**
Several drunken hours later:

“I mean…I know what your shayin, but really, how much entertail, tentrails…entrails can you really shee before it gets boring and grosh?” Buffy was sitting bent over the table staring intently at the bottle of never ending liquor she had been heavily consuming for the past 4 hours. She stared at it some more, wondering how it was still full when she knew she’d drunk nearly the whole bottle by herself.

“Why doesn it sheem empty? I know I drinked more than just a few sips…hehehehhehehhehe.” She finished with a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

D’hoffryn looked at his drunken companion warily, almost regretting his decision to break out his special liquor. ‘Keep giving her the liquor D’hoffryn; you’ll get her to make a wish, you’ll be a legend in the vengeance world – the whole underworld really - the only demon to EVER get a SLAYER to make a wish’. Boy had his conscious screwed him this time – he hadn’t expected to sit here for half the night. Well, at least he could say that he was the only demon that had gotten the slayer drunk and still managed to tell the tale.

“I want vengeance D’hoffer…D’heffer…demony thing.” she hissed while swinging her glass around crazily, pink alcohol sloshing over the table and just about everything else within a three foot radius, herself included. “I just…I just don’t know what to do… I want him to die the most antagonizing death the world will ever know, I want to give him – fuck that, I want to give everyone what they really deserve – pain! Everyone has hurt someone…I know I did…”

Buffy took a moment to try to compose herself, to try to block the flood of tears that threatened to spill at the mere thought of even just the small injustices she had done to William…William the monster, the man, the poet, the beautiful amalgamation of everything she needed in her life.

I just…I almost…I just wish I could grant instant vengeance to those that need it mosht, ya now? You’re all demony and can just shnap your finger…claw like thingies and make people get what they desherve…I have to go out there and bleed, and suffer, and lose…lose so much, all the time…”

Buffy continued to prattle on and on, the pain in her mind temporarily muted bythe pain in her soul – that was still radiating waves of remorse and revenge, never once realizing that D’hoffryn’s horns had momentarily glowed as he’d whispered “wish granted”, and that a small yellow pendant had materialized around her slender neck.

Chapter 3

Welcome to the Fold

Previously

I just…I almost…I just wish I could grant instant vengeance to those that need it mosht, ya now? You’re all demony and can just shnap your finger…claw like thingies and make people get what they desherve…I have to go out there and bleed, and suffer, and lose…lose so much, all the time…”

Buffy continued to prattle on and on, the pain in her mind temporarily muted by the pain in her soul – that was still radiating waves of remorse and revenge, never once realizing that D’hoffryn’s horns had momentarily glowed as he’d whispered “wish granted”, and that a small yellow pendant had materialized around her slender neck.

***

It was a little while after D’Hoffryn had taken the delicious pink liquor away from her that she realized something was different. Even though her brain was still foggy from the alcohol she couldn’t shrug off the weird voices in her head asking for vengeance, no, demanding vengeance was more like it. ‘I must really be drunk, now I’m hearing other people that want vengeance…wtf?’

D’Hoffryn was still sitting at the table just staring at her and it was weirding her out. “Do I have something on my face? Why are you staring at me like that?”

He gave her a small chuckle before replying, “My dear Miss Summers, you still haven’t realized what you’ve done have you? I am here and looking at you like that because I was waiting for you to notice the results of your impromptu wish. But, as you can see, I’ve just “let the cat out of the bag” as you humans say.”

“Wish? What wish, I never made a wish! I’m a Slayer; I never make wishes when demons like you are around.” She was starting to panic, the worry making her instantly sober up, what had she done? She started to reach for her neck as a calming gesture only to find a new necklace tightly circling her neck. “What the fuck is this? I never put a necklace on…”

“Ahh I see you’ve found your gift. You see Slayer; well I can’t really call you a slayer now can I? No you are a Vengeance Demon now, much like myself. Do you remember what you said a few hours ago, when you were intoxicated? You said, and I quote, “I just wish I could grant instant vengeance to those that need it ‘mosht’”. It doesn’t matter to me under what conditions the wishing subject has asked, just that they have asked. You wanted to grant vengeance to those that need it most; well I’ve given you the ability to do so. You have been elevated into my fold.” He finished grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“What the fuck do you mean I’ve been elevated into your fold!? IM A DEMON NOW!?” she screamed at him.

D’Hoffryn rose gracefully, waving a hand in front of her face silencing any further protests. “Yes, you are a demon and before you put up any further complaints remember where we are and who you are imprisoned by. I have elevated you now. You are above being a slave to anyone. You do not answer to your Watchers Council, to your human family or friends anymore. You simply answer to me. Under the conditions that I’ve granted your wish you are as Anyanka was; a free agent. You may use your powers or ignore them, but they cannot be taken back. Before I part I will tell you this, if you ignore the calls for vengeance they will only become louder and louder. You are a demon now; you have no human soul and are not bound by a conscious. If you wish to speak to me only think my name and you shall be teleported to wherever I am.” He waved his hand again freeing her from his bindings. As he turned to leave he thought better of it, turning to say, “And please check in with my secretary before coming to find me. Other demons teleporting to me while I’m in the bathroom is rather uncomfortable for everyone involved.” He finished with a slight grimace before teleporting out of her room.

Buffy sat there dumb struck by what her new boss had just said. She had no conscious, no moral compass, no one to answer to. ‘So I’m a fucking demon now. At least I’m free from it all though. Think of all the laughs Spike would have had a few years ago if this happened then…’thoughts of Spike brought her back to her own sad reality; she was free but she was still without the one person in the world she needed most, she was alone.

She stood slowly, wondering if her ability to walk would be different. ‘Hmm feels ok. I think I actually have MORE balance now. Nifty’. Deciding to try out her new powers she imagined herself in front of the small table near the door to her prison. With a quiet popping sound and a small plume of smoke she opened her eyes and found she was across the room exactly where she’d imagined she would be.

Buffy looked down and found her eyes drawn to the small box that contained the remains of her champion. The anger that had been reduced from a volcanic eruption to a controlled boil exploded back to the forefront of her mind again. With renewed vigor she once again promised Spike that they would have their revenge. Picking up the small box she visualized the word home – not being able to call a single place that since the collapse…and the people lost to it - and wondered just where she would end up.

***

Buffy felt a small rush of wind as she was moved from one place to the next, when the cool wind stopped she cautiously popped one eye open, finding herself in another opulent room, this one much different from the last though. The walls were paneled with different shades of dark wood, a large canopy bed covered in purple satin sheets and a mountain of pillows in varying hues, sat in the middle of the room. Wondering just where the hell she was she called for the only person that would be able to give her some sort clue. “D’Hoffryn get your ass over here!”

He appeared once again in a puff of thick smoke and swirling energy, “You called…umm…you never did tell me what your new name is.” He finished lamely.

“I don’t want a new name, now tell me where the fuck I am big boss man.” She finished sarcastically.

“Fine, do not change your name, although I don’t think ‘Buffy the Vengeance Demon’ will strike fear into the hearts of…”

“Get over the name crap and make with the ‘splainy of where I am.” She cut him off

“So impatient you are. If you must know you are in your home dimension now, Arashmahar. Every Vengeance Demon has a room in my castle, this one is yours. When you were elevated, this room appeared and will remain here as long as you do. This is your home now, there are maids to clean up and cooks that will make you anything you want, keep in mind though that human food is hard to come by. Anything and everything that you want, only imagine it and it will appear. There is a bathroom to the right and a closet behind that door. All of your earthly possessions have been boxed and transported into a storage area. Ask a maid and they will have them brought here, that is if you want them anymore. Is there anything else that I’ve not explained?”

“So this is my home? Who else can get in here? There are other demons…living down the hall?”

“Yes this is your home, no, only you have access to your room, people only gain access when you call for them or give them permission and yes other demons do live down the hall. You are currently rooming next to Kosto and his wife. They’re very nice. You will be welcomed here. Although I would advise that you keep the fact that you were THE slayer to yourself. People do hold grudges. Now if that is all, I would like to go back to my own room and get some shut eye and perhaps an aspirin or two, your earlier caterwauling has given me a rather rough tension headache.” He glanced at her once again, a small smile lighting up his odd features, “You are home now and I feel that I shall grow rather fond of you in time. I shall see you a little later.” With that parting statement he teleported back to his own room somewhere else in the castle.

Buffy stood there staring at the spot he had teleported from for a while, many things going through her brain, most of which centered on Spike and her revenge. She knew that revenge was a dish best served cold, and on that note decided that she would get better acquainted with her new home.

She walked to her new and improved bed, running the fingers of one hand over the buttery smoothness of the fabric. She sat on the bed, looking down at the hand that still held her love. Placing the snuffbox-turned-urn reverently on her bedside table, she kicked her shoes off and laid down keeping her eyes on Spikes remains.

Tears pricked at her eyes, obscuring her vision. She wiped them away with shaking swipes of her dainty fingers. “I’m so sorry Spike. I failed you when you needed me the most. I may never get you back but I’ll never forget you. God, I love you so much.”

With tears burning her eyes and rage burning in her heart she got up from the bed and decided that she would take to this life with vehemence, but first a shower and a change of clothes were in order.

Sniffing lightly at her underarms she winced, ‘Ugh, I stink, where’s some deodorant when you need it?’

A glimmer caught her eye from the corner of her dresser; turning to look at it a brand new stick of her favorite kind was sitting there just waiting to be used. With a slight smile she thought to herself, ‘I could get used to this’.

Testing it out her new found abilities again she thought of the Jimmy Choo patent leather pumps she had seen the last time she’d been out. With another shimmer they appeared right next to the deodorant. ‘Oh yeah I could DEFINITLY get used to this.’

Chapter 4

An eternity

60 years later

Buffy had taken to her new life as a vengeance demon with relish, granting wishes to anyone and everyone that had any type of half way reasonable plight. In the sixty years, since she had elevated she had moved quickly and prestigiously through the ranks. D’Hoffryn had been right when he had said that he would grow fond of her. She fascinated him with the way she granted wishes; each one different and more imaginative than the last, never once repeating or mimicking a punishment. He’d grown to love her even more so than his prized Anyanka.

In a way D’Hoffryn thought of her as his daughter and she thought of him as her father; Giles thoroughly forgotten once she had seen what he had truly become. They spent many nights and days talking about her past and eventually she was able to come to term with everything. She forgot everyone in her past; the people, her favorite drink, her duties, her first lover…they were mere memories of a mortal but heroic time.

Willow had died in a freak accident involving a spell - taking with her Kennedy (Buffy thanked D’Hoffryn; he was her god now, for that) as well as almost two dozen slayers. The wishes she granted after that fiasco had secured her a spot in demonic history books and legends.

Giles had fallen off the edge he had been carefully walking since he had gone from being Ripper back to Rupert. The Council and many of its members falling off that edge as well. His lust and endless greed for power over the slayer line had caused an upset and a near full-scale civil war inside its secretive walls. A slayer swiftly removed his head from his neck with the sacred scythe when he had been fully overcome by a demon he had called upon for its powers. It was all such a shame really; the demon needn’t have died for such a trivial matter.

Buffy had never really thought much of checking on Xander, as far as she knew he was still off the grid somewhere in Africa, a small memory flickered across her mind, ‘You got your soul, why?...Why does a man do what he mustn’t…for her…’, and she embraced it, the memories of him the only ones worth keeping alive and well.

Dawn was the hardest of everyone to let go. Buffy checked on her every few years or so, never letting her know that she was doing so. Dawn was an old woman with a husband and several children and grandchildren. She had married her Italian stallion after all. The key had let Buffy go a long time ago, she still loved her but was happy that she could have a somewhat normal life, and for that, she was almost grateful that Buffy had disappeared from her life.

The only thing, rather person, he was NOT a thing, that had stayed with her was Spike. Day in and day out, he was with her in some fashion or another; in her dreams or around her neck in her new and improved talisman, either way he was always there.

Buffy had never gotten over him, nor had she tried. Many a time’s different demons of various species had asked her out on a killing spree disguised as a date. She had never once taken a single one up on their offers. Her heart did, and always would, belong to Spike.

On this particular night, the anniversary of her elevation and Spike’s final death, she celebrated and mourned. In the early hours of the day, she woke up, visualized a fantastic outfit, waited for it to poof into her closet, showered and dressed before teleporting to the monument she had erected in his honor.

It was a small stone building tucked away into one of the far corners of the castles grounds. The walls were made of an alabaster colored stone, shot through with onyx veins. The door was solid and heavy, made of a special type of dark wood. Running her fingernail along the edge of the key slot, she hit the special mechanism that opened the door.

Walking in, she surveyed the black onyx coffin. It held no body and no ashes, it was simply there for her to sit at and pretend that Spike’s body was there, even though she wore his remains around her neck. Kneeling down she reached for her pendant, stroking it lovingly before quietly starting to contemplate the last sixty years of her existence without him.

She hadn’t aged, hadn’t gotten sick. She’d granted wishes for anyone that had a worthwhile plight, and through it all, she had missed him. Missed his laughter, his smile, the way he made her feel. She had missed it all.

For the first few months, she had carried him around in her pocket, his ashes kept in a new ornate box. It was not until she had killed the Immortal that she had altered her pendant to keep him with her permanently.

She had asked D’Hoffryn for a special favor once she had massacred her once would be captor. D’Hoffryn used his magic to meld the ashes and glass together transforming her former plain, round, yellow glass center of power into a small gray and yellow swirled spike.

Focusing on the Immortal’s downfall, she watched her vengeance and Spike’s play across her memory like a movie

~~~~

Flashback:
She had spent months planning this, months watching and waiting, learning and honing her newfound powers. She had found that even though she was a vengeance demon, her slayer powers had stayed with her, improving like everything else about her. She was stronger, faster and now much more powerful than ever; she was lethal in her merciless glory.

After the Immortal had discovered her escape, he had raged and sent out all of his best and sleaziest spies and assassins. They were no match for her; she sent each one back to him, waiting on his doorstep, disfigured and dismembered with thorough notes describing how she had killed them, always finishing with a single line “See you soon, baby”. After dispatching nearly two hundred assorted demons, she had come for him.

It was late in the evening, the night cool and serene belying what was about to go down. She approached his villa, the one he had her held captive in, silently walking up the path; it wouldn’t do to let the cat out of the bag that she was new and improved. Reaching the stone steps that led to the front door she scaled them quickly, knocking on the door with sharp, swift raps of her knuckles.

The door swung open, a butler looking at her questioningly. “Miss Summers, you were not expected. I shall inform my master that you have come back to him at last. Please,” he motioned with his arm to the parlor adjacent to the entrance hall, “have a seat while I get the master.”

The butler took off up the winding staircase in search of his master. Buffy stood in the entrance hall in front of the door, the toe of her expensive, stylish red leather pump tapping impatiently. The man she sought to kill was taking FAR too long, she wanted to make him suffer already damn it!

It was nearly three agonizing minutes later when he finally started to make his grand entrance. “Bella, you’ve been sending me far too many presents lately. I do not appreciate the women I love sending my men back to me in pieces. Come, grace me with a kiss and all shall be forgiven. I know you were upset that I killed that blonde headed pest, but I did it for your own good Bella.” He reached the bottom of the stairs never once acknowledging the murderous look on her face. “Bella, you look beautiful, co…”

He was stopped short when Buffy lightly leapt across the entrance hall and grabbed him by the throat lifting him off his feet and effectively crushing his voice box. Turning to the butler that had crept along behind his master, she said, “Leave now and tell no one. If not, you and whomever else you call on for help will die by my hand. Leave.” Dismissing him from her presence, she turned back to the struggling form of her once would-be kidnapper, smiling evilly before teleporting out of the hall and into his bedroom.

A few whispered words and he was suspended from the ceiling by invisible chains. He hung there staring at her with a mixture of horror, surprise and oddly lust. The Immortal coughed several times before he was able to get his crushed larynx to loosen up enough for him to speak.

“Bella…I never knew you were so…erotic” his voice was rough, his speech breaking on every syllable.

Buffy took what he said in stride, realizing that even though he was turned on, he was still terrified of her; the smell of fear was saturating the air around her making her evil smile twist up just that much more. A few more whispered words and the chains keeping him hanging from the ceiling tightened causing his feet to rise from the plush beige carpet. She glanced down at the rug thinking to herself how tough it would be for the people who bought this place to get the blood out. ‘Oh well, I can always poof it somewhere else, no need to make others suffer through cleaning a blood soaked carpet.’

Refocusing her attention back on her prisoner, she shifted from her human mask to her new vein covered form. Her smile once again widened when he saw what she had become. “Like my new improvement? I sure do. You know I never realized this before, but I kinda owe you for the new and improved me. If you hadn’t taken me hostage and killed the ONLY person in this world that made me happy I never would have been elevated. I guess I gotta thank you for that huh?”

“Bella, you don’t really want to hurt me, think of what you have gained since I killed Spike…” his croaking voice was cut off as soon as Spikes name left his mouth. Flashing in front of him, her tiny fist circled his thick neck, squeezing with as much force as she could expound.

“YOU WILL NEVER, EVER, EVER! SPEAK HIS NAME AGAIN! YOU WERENT WORTHY ENOUGH TO LICK HIS BOOTS, YOU COWARDLY SNIPE OF A DEMON!” she screamed at him.

Releasing him with a rough shove backwards, she watched as he swung back and forth. Even though the chains were invisible, they were still cutting into his wrists, small drops of blood falling with a light pitter-patter onto the once immaculate rug.

Contemplating her next move she poofed a chair out of thin air and sat with a slight plop facing him. Quickly inspecting his body for other signs of pain, she decided her best move would be to cut his voice box out; she wouldn’t hear his screams, but hey she wouldn’t have to deal with his annoying accent either.

Reaching behind her, she pulled the long thin dagger from where it was hidden, wedged in between the small of her back and her tight black leather pants. The curved blade glinted in the light just as maliciously as her smile did.