THE TALE TO THE NOIR

Written by Dreamhunter and Rogiari

“I don’t watch pornography, I write about pornography”
Joss Whedon





Written by: Dreamhunter and Rogiari.
Translated by: Laghi Laura (for any info and contact email me to babylaurina@libero.it).
Rating: This story is absolutely prohibited to under 18 years old! And, if we have not said it yet: PROHIBITED TO UNDER 18 YEARS OLD!! Everyone who reads this story will take the responsibility for it. We will not accept any kind of complaint about that: this is a NC-17 story, really dark; it contains extremely explicit sex scenes (also non conventional sex), bad words, slash acts, violence and we don’t treat Buffy in a gentle way. So, if you are not very keen on this genre, it is better if YOU KEEP FROM READING IT.
Summary: In an alternative universe in which Angelus has never regained his soul, Buffy tries to be a good girl with her boyfriend Xander and, simultaneously, she has to carry out her mission of being a slayer...and with her attraction for the “dark side of the strength”….
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and to the Mutant Enemy, and to everyone else who owns them. These writings are non-profit-making.
Timeline: Beginning of BTVS, season 2. We want remember to the reader that is an alternative universe in which Angelus has never moved to Sunnydale with the intention of helping Buffy. Despite of the different storyline of the series, a lot of characters from season 3 will take part in this fanfic due to our narrative reasons.
Note: this fanfic is the first part of a trilogy: we are now writing the second one, named “The Princes to the Noir”.
Distribution: please, we ask you to not publish this fanfiction without our consent.
Feed - back: always, and always well accepted to rogiari@fastwebnet.it (Rogiari) and to frankab@tin.it (Dreamhunter).




Once upon a time there was a pretty princess, but a group of nasty men bound her with a spell. Only the kiss of a prince could awaken her…or plunk her down in the deepest darkness. Nobody can tell it for sure.
The princess aspired to reach the light, but the darkness used to invite her, with its long, slim and seductive fingers. Nevertheless, she struggled to resist it, going through reality as she was living a dream. Until the day when someone invites her to awake from her long, deep sleep...


I. Innocence.

“Buffy…Buffy, wake up!”
She heard her mother’s voice as it came from a far and mysterious universe, a universe made of spells cried with raucous shouts around the fire in the savannah, a universe plenty of mysterious and powerful creatures, of the exaltation for hunting...in the night, bare-footed, with a background of rolling, deep and imperious drums…
Buffy woke up and looked the clock desperately... it was horribly late! She had to hurry up, or she had missed the first lesson, and she couldn’t miss Spanish, not that year!
Oh God, Xander! They’ve fixed a meeting at the Espresso Pump before school!
“Buffy…it seems you’ve seen a ghost,” stated Joyce with a smile. “Wake up, you lazy! Breakfast is ready and so am I: as soon as you’re dressed up we go.”
“No, mom, I’ll take the bus today. I have to meet a friend before school.”
“A friend?” smiled Joyce. “Your boyfriend?”
Buffy nodded. “Yes, mom. Xander, you know him”
Joyce was happy. She knew that Xander was a good boy and he doted on her Buffy. Although he hadn’t a properly balanced family- as far as she knew his parents used to drink too much- he was a polite, funny and gentle guy. Besides that, what rights have they to judge him? Joyce could still feel the bruises of her divorce, of all the unfaithful affairs of her husband, of his disregard as a partner and as a father. Xander wasn’t the school football-team quarterback, nor an IT genius, but he loved Buffy, Joyce was sure about that.
“Well, don’t make him wait!”
Buffy rushed into the shower. No, she hadn’t made him wait.
But she could still hear in her ears the imperious noise of the drums, so far, but still present...


“Here I am!” told she, raising her head through him quietly, for their usual greeting kiss. Xander, gratified by her docility, smiled to her, kissing her lips with rapture. On the other side of the road he noticed the Porsche of Cameron, that dandy from University who tried to flirt with Buffy: his masculine pride was exceedingly exalted for the reason why she chose him, a guy with working class origins who lived in the basement bearing in silence his parents’ continuous rows.
“Please, stop now!” whispered her, blushing as she felt his tongue trying to find a way into her demurely closed mouth. His smile became bigger. His experience told him that, in the shades of the night, she couldn’t deny him a more passionate kiss. He had just to wait.
“I missed you” he told her. “So much that I’ve been forced to eat a peanut butter sandwich! And you perfectly know that doing this in my home is like an exploration mission of a Viet Cong tunnel.”
Buffy laughed. “Food as a compensation, uh? Lucky you for that! Since my father has left us, my mom insists that is better doing aerobics - and eating carrots – to fight loneliness. Believe me, this tricks cannot give me the merely half of your satisfaction.
“I could satisfy you, if you only let me show you how!” whispered him, rapidly kissing her neck. Buffy stifled a chuckle and hit his arm. He almost buckled because of the strong punch. He knew well that even the most casual Buffy’s move could be lethal.
But Buffy didn’t realize anything and she began to express him, once again, her point of view. “I have already told you that I’m against underage sex, with an end in itself. When we’ll grow up a bit and if we continue to get along, we’ll naturally try to better know ourselves. But until that moment you should be patient. It’s not so much we’re together…”
“It seems an eternity to me” he smiled “eight months, three weeks and two days. Since May the 24 of last year, to be precise.” She smiled too and caresses his face. When she was with Xander, she tended to forget her true life. She died on May the 24.
Xander brought her to life with the mouth - to - mouth respiration in the undergrounds which led to the Master’s crypt and Buffy, thanks to her stronger body and spirit, finally defeated the ancient vampire, making him fall from the library’s roof.
Since then, Buffy had understood that she had to love him, because he was worthy of her love, much more than anyone else. He was the only one who knew her life and her mission; and he shared it.
But eight months - thought she, while they were taking their place in the classroom – wasn’t enough for two 17 year old boys. To be honest, Buffy had to turn 17 in a few days.
Their affair began sweetly, without pressure. They started to hold the other’s hand, then they kissed each other with tenderness and, finally, their meetings became more and more frequent, at school and also outside. When they went to the Bronze with their friends, Willow and her boyfriend Oz, Buffy and Xander usually danced together. During the dance she forgot all her inhibition; as if by magic, when she was on the dance floor she turned into a sensual and vibrant creature, full of obscure and ancient power that clouded men’s hearts. Xander felt he could have her only in those moments. In all the other occasions she was a quite demure girl, and she rarely gave him more than some kisses.
But they were really very young, they had plenty of time; he will always be next to her, both in her diurnal and nocturnal life. She would come to him, when she was ready for more.
When the lesson was finished, Xander came next to her, took her bag and he put his arm round her shoulder. When he tried to kiss her smooth lips which invited him with thousands of sill not kept promises, he was stopped by a sarcastic laugh.
“Oh, my God I feel sick” said the beautiful dark haired girl who looked at them from upstairs, with the hands on her hips and a disgusted grimace. “Buffy, I knew about you and this…this loser…but be gentle and don’t force us to see you both!
“Hi, Cordelia” smiled Buffy. “You’re well today.”
“And you’re not” answered the girl, raising the shoulders. “When you arrived, I believed in you, I certainly do. And now, you chose in a so bad way… yeah, but we all know that you’re not really normal, isn’t it?
“Not, really” laughed Xander. “She’s clever, actually!”
Cordelia didn’t bat an eyelid. The high school quarterback was coming, and she had much better to do than spend her time with that loser with deep eyes and her freaky girlfriend who believed to have the mission of being a vampire slayer.
“She’s always so annoying” stated Willow next to them. Her boyfriend was taking her hand. “Maybe she misses …”
“Love?” advised Oz, laconically.
“Sex” commented Xander.
“A Prada handbag” said Buffy. “The same daddy promised me if I get more than C in Spanish and Maths. So, let’s run, ‘cause the lesson’s starting! Oz, Willow…see you later in the library!”
The two guys smiled, walking along the school corridors holding each other by the hand.
Xander came next to Buffy with a melodramatic expression on his face.
“My dear…the events divide us. Where we’ll go there won’t be love and sweetness but only war and sorrow...give me the last kiss, my love, and then, adieu!” Buffy laughed and kissed him.
And then she walked through the math’s’ classroom with a light heart. In her pastel colored dream she could feel at least serene, even if not satisfied.


In the library, Mr. Giles was showing Miss Calendar an ancient text dated back to 400 year before, called The Manuscript of du Lac.
Bored, Buffy was rapidly looking at Cosmopolitan; the Backstreet Boys music in the walkman was filling her ears.
“Could it interest anybody? It is dangerous to keep it in here?” was asking the charming Jenny, and, doing this, she was approaching more and more to the watcher’s shoulder. He was obviously nervous and everyone could notice that from his constant movement of putting his glasses on and off his face. Buffy smiled in a know-it-all way and yawned.
“It is very dangerous. It contains some precious pages which show the ritual to cure weak or sick vampires. The order is that nobody from the beyond knows that we have it. Buffy…have you heard me? Buffy, won’t you shut that bloody walkman down?”
She obeyed quite surly.
“I’ve understood everything. I have to protect the Manuscript of Du Latt. And I have to avoid that everyone knows that it’s here.”
“Du Lac, not Du Latt”. Tonight you’ll go on patrol checking all the cemeteries and the schools surroundings. I’ve known that someone is looking for that book, someone who has no problems concerning money.”
Buffy yawned again and picked up her stakes. She went out from the library while her friends were passing by and she said hello to them.
Xander wasn’t with them, but she knew it; they had to meet later at the Restfield cemetery. He was waiting for her at the cemetery’s entrance, and as soon as he saw her, he fell immediately head over her feet.
“Oh, wonderful creature in black miniskirt…just give me your glance, and I’ll die happily!”
Buffy laughed and picked him up. “Stop fooling around and let’s go. I wanna come back home early and study.”
“Study…on and on…why don’t we watch one of the romantic comedies with Julia Roberts you like so much and after we make love on the sofa?
“No.” said her giving him a spare stake.
“Is it a kind of phallic symbol?” asked him.
“No, it’s just for your safety, you fool.” Buffy gave him a little kiss and pushed him straight on. Xander stopped suddenly when a neo-vampire came out from a just-dug tomb.
Quite regardless to Xander, Buffy pushed him away and dusted the vampire after a short series of blows. When the dust touched the ground, he whistled. “You’re well tonight baby!”
But Buffy wasn’t listening to him anymore.
She was in the night, and she knew it very well. The night was like a lover, she felt as if someone was waiting for her with open arms, as if something was penetrating in her veins and melted down as dark honey.
The night was the reason why, the first time she followed Merrik, her first watcher, everything went to its place, with a click. Everything that, during her adolescence, used to keep her awakened at night with an absurd and intense desire of going into the dark and slay.
She called Xander, smelling the air mechanically. “Go to my mom’s house. We’ve done here.”
“Why don’t you come with me then?”
“I wanna stay alone for a moment. Please.”
He knew her quite well to know he had to respect her will, especially at night. The joyful blonde haired girl with green eyes, which could give happiness and joy to everyone who knew her during the day, became a new, different and private person. And Xander loved her also for that reason.
“So I’ll wait for you at home”, told him, quite unsure, “Do you come immediately?”
“Yeah”, answered her without smiling.
Xander could only swallow his disappointment and walk trough Revello Drive.
Buffy had lied.
She didn’t wanna stay “alone for a moment”.
On the contrary, she felt that the current situation was becoming the most dangerous she ever faced.
She didn’t want that Xander got involved in it, but it wasn’t concerning only his safety, it wasn’t just that.
The reason was deeper and much more obscure.
As an ancient priestess she raised her head to the moon and closed her eyes.
When she re-opened them, he was there.

“I’m really depressed”, said Xander to his best friend.
“Did Buffy stand you up again?” asked Willow, while she was checking her history notes.
“Something like that. We were patrolling and she sent me back home. She says she wanna stay alone for a bit.
“Does she have her period?” suggested Willow.
“Uh? How should I know?”
Willow smiled secretly. That phone call was becoming interesting. Xander wasn’t such in intimate terms with Buffy to don’t know her period frequency. Oh well…
“You should respect her decisions”.
“That’s what I’ve done. But I feel miserable. And alone.”
“Do you wanna come here to make homework together?”
“No, I promised Buffy that I’ve waited for her to her mother’s house. Willow, sometimes she’s so reserved. When she acts like that I don’t know what she’s thinking about.”
“She is a slayer,” stated Willow “It’s normal that she has some shadows in her life.”
“I wanna belong to them too.”
“Maybe you can’t.” stated Willow wisely.
“Yeah, you’re right. Goodnight Will.”
“Night, Xander.” whispered her sweetly.
Feeling like a perfect looser, Xander left the phone box and started to walk.


Buffy let the predator surrounded her with slow and calculated steps to sound her out; all his senses were centered on her.
He was a vampire of medium height; he had the hunting face on, he was dressed in black and his hairs were absurdly platinum blonde, like Billy Idol, the rocker of the 80s.
She had never seen him before, but her instinct suggested her that he was not a rookie. He should have passed a lot of decades, maybe more. Despite of the extreme modernity of his look, of his long black leather coat, an ancient courtesy came naturally to him; she could feel that inside.
She knew for sure that he would have killed her kindly.
“The slayer, I suppose”.
“As your fellows use to call me,” replied her, completely on the alert.
“I have to make a proposal”.
Buffy smiled, showing her teeth.
“What? Kill me softly?”
“Don’t be disrespectful little girl,” smiled he. “I will kill you. But after, when everything will be done. But now I need you, and I’m ready to come to terms with the slayer.”
“I’m already bored, but talk.”
“Let’s sit near the lake.”
She looked at him surprised: if that was just a complicated plan to overtake and kill her, it won’t work. Her attention was on the alert, and he wouldn’t have found easy to underrate her. Despite herself, she followed him till the small lake, asking to herself why she wasn’t grabbing the chance of stake him on the back. Well, bloody hell, she wasn’t coward and she never stab on the back.
They sat on a bench. That place had his peculiar, macabre charm: the small artificial lake was surrounded by graves, whose tombstones were shining in the dark. Anyone who had seen them would have mistaken them for two lovers: he read in her mind and abandoned his demoniac masque.
When she saw him, Buffy almost jumped.
He had an unforgettable face, perhaps it wasn’t perfect, but it was full of obscure charm that she couldn’t deny. His lips were maybe a bit too full for a man, his cheekbones were prominent, and he had a broad forehead; his eyes seemed really dark in the darkness, but she guessed they were pale and he had a scar that cut in two halves his left eyebrow. He was a young man, his face wasn’t showing the signs of time.
A monster.
Who was looking at her hinting at a smile.
“So, Little Red Riding Hood has no fear of the wolf.”
“Talk and let’s have this thing over with.”
“I want to propose you a trade,” smiled him, getting briefly to the point. “I know your watcher has got the Manuscript of du Lac. I want to borrow it”
Buffy looked at him surprised. Then she got over the shock.
“Which…manuscript?”
He raised his eyes to Heaven. “C’mon, I’ not born yesterday. And I’m not dead yesterday neither. I know you have it…and you also know that. You want protect it, but I don’t want it for a wicked use. Unless you consider a wicked act cure an ill vampire, I owe her everything that I am…
“I can kill you both, and finally have it over with.”
“But I guess you’ll miss something much more important, which is the possibility of stake the Scourge of Europe on his back. He’s the most powerful and wicked vampire who had ever walked on the five continents.”
Buffy looked at him.
“Which are you?”
“I’ve already said that…ah, never mind. You’re a bit thick, slayer. I’m offering you Angelus’ head on a
silver plate.
“Angelus?” repeated she, feeling a bit silly. Despite of Mr. Giles persistence, she never finished The History of the Worst Vampires for the Humanity.
The vampire made a sign with his hand. “Go, look for your watcher, and check it out. You’ll find facts, dates, and names. And finally you’ll wish to kill that bastard as much as me…”
“So for you it’s like “I win-or I win”, isn’t it?” asked her. “If I give you the Manuscript, you cure your friend and I kill your enemy.”
“I’ve never told I’m a stupid. But neither your watcher is a stupid. He knows that this is the only one opportunity he has to get Angelus. And I will give the book back. I swear.”
Buffy laughed. “And do you think I bite it?”
“I always keep my promises”, replied him, offended.
He stood up and Buffy looked at him. “We see here tomorrow night, at 10.00 o’clock. If you answer no…”
“We’ll fight to the death”, finished her. “Ok, I think it’s a good plan. But how can I be sure that you won’t beat it?”
“This”, he said and, quick as a flash, he take her shoulders crouching to her. Instinctively, Buffy raised the hand that was still clutching the stake, preparing herself to the pain of his bite. But he took her lips.
And she, feeling stunned, put the stake on his chest, fixing its point at a few centimeters near his heart.
Buffy felt that kiss was everlasting.
He was fresh on the touch, not cold, and his mouth smelled of whisky, tobacco and dressed leather and of something else. Thinking that probably it was blood, didn’t cause to her senses the disgusting feeling she expected. When their tongues meet, the shock caused by that delightfully sweet and salty contact brought her back. She pushed with more decision the stake against the red shirt he wore and she gazed at him.
“You can kill me”, whispered him, his mouth a few millimeters to hers. “I gave you both the occasion and…the reason. I did it intentionally: I wanted you knew you can trust me. I won’t run off and I won’t play dirty with you. Tomorrow I’ll be here at ten o’clock pm and if you don’t bring the book we’ll have a duel to the death.”
“Should I trust you cause you kissed me?” asked her with eyes wide opened.
“For that reason and cause you’re too lovely to extinguish you.” The vampire moved away from her, still smiling. He licked his lips, enjoying her taste. Buffy shook looking at that intentionally lewd gesture.
“So, see ya tomorrow. Oh, my name’s Spike…but perhaps you’ll find about my exploits if you’ll look for William The Bloody. Good research, luv!”
Buffy started. Did he call her luv? Did he kiss her? Did she kiss him?
The vampire went away in the night and Buffy began to shake.
With too many emotions to understand in her body, she slowly walked home, through the clean, warm and sunny comfort that only Xander could give her.



“Ah, you’re back”, stated Xander, the mouth full of nuts, zapping on the cable telly. Joyce was in the kitchen and she distractively greeted her daughter.
“Yeah”, said Buffy simply, taking off her jeans coat and sitting next to Xander. He reached out his hand drawing up her head for a kiss, but her looked on the other side. Xander thought Willow was right: Buffy probably had her period.
“Okay”, admitted him. “I can see it’s time to go to bed. I’m a bit sad for the cable TV: at home it’s so bad!”
She smiled for his joke and caressed his smooth dark hair. “Sorry Xan. I don’t know what’s up. Tomorrow I’ll be well, you’ll see.”
“Sure”, he smiled. He kissed her forehead and went away, greeting her mom.
Buffy was alone. Still confused, with the taste of the other one still on her lips, she was glad to be free from her boyfriend’s tender company, just to stay alone for a bit.
Alone with herself and with the dusty volume about the history of worst vampires of humanity.


At nine o’clock in the morning Buffy arrived in the library quick as a flash and slammed the volume on Mr. Giles’ table.
“Good morning Buffy!” said the watcher composed, sipping his tea.
“Why haven’t you ever spoke to me ‘bout that?” she attacked him. “Angelus. William the Bloody. They are the progeny of the Aurelius Order, they were created with the Master’s blood and they are the two most dangerous and cruel vampires the humanity had ever known!”
“I’m glad that you read the books I suggested to you, but I don’t understand why you’re in a such hurry. Since decades we haven’t news about Angelus, maybe he’s even died, and concerning William the Bloody…”
“He’s here! Spike he’s here in Sunnydale!”
“Spike? How do you know that…”
“He came to me. Last night. He offered me Angelus’ head if I give him that damn manuscript. And if we don’t lend it to him, tonight we’ll fight to the death.”
Giles became deadly serious.
“You won’t go Buffy. In the past Spike killed two slayers and I won’t permit you become the third one. And, besides that, we have no guaranties at all that he can really give us Angelus…if he’s still alive of course. Vampires are amoral creatures: they lie, they mislead, the swindle…”
That sentence echoed in Buffy’s mind. A trick. That filthy kiss was studied as a smart trick to weaken her defenses, to convince her about the goodness of his words. Her rage became stronger.
“Do you really believe he could beat me?”
“You are a middle-experienced slayer”, said Giles. “Yes, you defeated the Master…but you paid such a high price for it! If Xander wasn’t there, probably you wouldn’t be here now, and I cannot bear it. On the contrary, Spike in his one hundred and thirty years of age has committed a lot of crimes and misdeeds and he has two expert slayers on his conscience. Yes, I’m really worried for you Buffy, and I suggest you to don’t accept the challenge.”
“So let’s give him the book.” Stated her. “Is that your solution?”
“No, it isn’t.”
“I can’t run away”, laughed Buffy bitterly. “Do you remember? I’m the chosen one. My duty is fight against the forces of evil…or die trying to do it.”
“Buffy I…”
“And also if we give him the book we’ll probably get Angelus’ head, a bastard much more dreadful than William the Bloody. He’s also more ancient. Then, I probably have to loosen the grip on Spike again, and I could kill him after. I won’t solve the problem running away now.”
“That’s true. But are we sure that Spike will keep his promise?”
“I think so”, said Buffy, firstly overtaking herself with her statement. “Call it slayer instinct.”
Giles remained silent for a bit. He wondered his Buffy had never to meet monsters such as Angelus or William the Bloody, but that was the essence of her mission. And he couldn’t do anything to avoid it, just like he couldn’t avoid her fight with the Master.
“At ten o’clock we have to meet at Renstfield cemetery. I’ll go to the Bronze with my friends and then I’ll come here to take the book. And I’ll bring it to him. And I hope God will look after me.”
“Are you sure? Nobody obliges you to…”
“Everything obliges me to face him. And that will happen”, stated Buffy, smiling sadly. “But first I’ll slay and kill Angelus, The Scourge of Europe.”
Buffy went away and the heels of her boots marked the rhythm of her escape. Giles remained alone with his thoughts. Since the most ancient time, the slayer remained alone with her mission.
And he couldn’t do anything to stop it, just trust his instinct and hope for the well.





That night Buffy was so beautiful.
Xander literally devoured her with his eyes, and he wasn’t the only one. His girl was wearing a black minidress that picked out her slim figure, her honey-colored skin and her sun-kissed hair; she was on the dance floor, sensually dancing to the rhythm of a particular music unknown to everybody except her, as she was preparing herself for an ancient ritual sacrifice.
Willow was sipping a cappuccino, following the music rhythm of his boyfriend’s band with her head.
“The Dingoes are wading in tonight.”
“Also Buffy, isn’t it? Don’t you go with her?”
“Nah” stated Xander. “Not now. I enjoy myself more watching her. I’m so clumsy that I will probably spoil everything.”
“Look at her and wonder Xander,” pointed out Cordelia, who was moving around there. “Ask yourself what have you ever done to deserve a girl like her…nothing I suppose, except giving her plenty of rope about her psychotic belief of being the Slayer…”
“Maybe if you just cry a little louder everyone can hear you” stated Xander growling.
“Look there”, answered Cordelia. “That’s a well-matched couple, finally. Weird and a bit macabre, but really effective.”
Everybody looked at them. They were both young, of the same height and the girl, beautiful and delicate in her long white dress was holding on the arm of his boy, completely dressed in black.
“Uh oh” said Willow. “I’m not a slayer but all my senses are tinkling. I think we should call Buffy.”
Cordelia raised her eyes to Heaven and went away. Xander walked firmly to Buffy, but she didn’t hear him and she continued to dance.
From the edge of the dance floor someone looked at them. The white dressed women with long brown hair and violet eyes heartsick realized that her partner’s eyes were fixated on the small black-dressed creature who was dancing careless of everything and everybody.
“William”, whispered her softly, “She will lead you to death.”
But Spike wasn’t listening to her. He ignored the clumsy dark-haired guy who danced around her and he focused on her. He still didn’t know if in a half an hour they would have fought to the death or if they would have become alleys. To be honest, he didn’t really care about that.
But he knew that he could still perceive the taste of her kisses and he was also sure–just as he knew for sure that the day always followed dawn- that he would have kissed her again.

“North-west: a suspicious couple!” Xander cried finally. Buffy woke up and looked right and left, but Spike and Dru had already left.
“Xander, what time is it?”
“It’s half past nine, why?”
“Oh gosh…” Buffy kissed him rapidly and ran away. “Tomorrow I’ll tell you everything!”
Xander remained alone. Cordelia came next to him from behind. “The world is ending? A zombie invasion is coming? Or, more simply, did she find another guy? I don’t know why, but I’m not so surprised…”
“Shut up Cordy” replied Xander with a gloomy face. It was really ridiculous. That was the first time that Buffy had left him alone for two nights.
But he had no choice and so he came next to Willow.
Buffy ran as fast as she could to the library. Giles was waiting for her with a glass of whisky in one hand and the Manuscript of du Lac in the other one.
“As far as you care for it, I’m still resistant.”
“We have no choice”, she wheezed and she took the book. And then she ran to the Sunnydale main cemetery.


She slackened her pace suddenly, too much aware of the big trouble she was facing.
Suddenly she felt that she wasn’t in her territory anymore: Spike and his companion Angelus weren’t the habitual weak vampires she normally fought in Sunnydale. Yes, she won against the Master, but if Xander hadn’t been there…
Her emotions ran fast into her veins, just like she got flames in the blood. Suddenly too many things had come into play: her slayer reputation, her relationship with her boyfriend…
Wait a minute. Buffy stopped, short-winded. What had Xander to do with all of that? “You left him alone for two consecutive nights” answered she to herself. And she didn’t feel guilty but…free.
What the hell, she corrected herself trying to work out with her too short dress. Xander and his feelings for me are not locking me up at all. I freely chose to be with him and I have to live my relationship day by day with commitment, devotion, tenderness…
“You’re here slayer” welcomed the blonde vampire throwing away the fug-end he was smoking and, smiling ironically, he added: “You are a bit up in the clouds…have you changed the nappy to your snotty?”
“The snap…what the hell you’re talkin’ about?” said her. “How do you…”
“I was at the Bronze. I almost felt sick looking at you”, confessed Spike. “But tonight I can forgive you everything: you have brought the Manuscript.”
Nervously, she tightened the volume with much more strength.
“And what about our deal?”
“Alive and well. Give me the book and I assure you that in five days Angelus will be here in Sunnydale. And you’ll now exactly where and when.”
“Five days?”
“When I’ll tell Angelus that Drusilla’s health depends on his involvement in the ritual showed in the Manuscript he will come straightaway in Sunnyhell. Believe me he’s a truly bastard, but he puts our family before everything…”
She laughed. “Who are you? The Corleones’? And who is Drusilla?”
Spike became serious. “She is the reason of my existence.”
“Is she a vampire?”
“Yes.”
“Your girlfriend?”
Spike smiled again. “Are you jealous?”
She chocked. “Me…jealous of…a vampire? Are you crazy…or what?”
He was amazed. From the clumsy way she formulated the sentence, it seemed that she didn’t deny of being jealous of him, but only that it wouldn’t be possible for her to fear a female vampire. He shook his head. That night his thoughts were less reasonable than those of a fool.
“Give me the book”, he insisted, tightening his lips.
“Call Angelus”, replied her, even if inside she didn’t show signs of impatience for her fight with the Scourge of Europe.
He took a mobile phone out of his leather-coat pocket.
“I’m born in 1852, but I like to be up-to-date.”
Buffy waited patiently that he dialed the number. And then she listened quite amused to the conversation.
“Angelus? Yeah, it’s me. As usual. The Master? I’ll tell you after. Listen, Dru is getting worse. Yeah, it’s Prague’s fault. I know you told me that, but it has already happened. I’ve found a cure. What? No, not Lurky, I don’t trust him. And, besides that, Dru can’t bear such a long trip. Let me speak. There’s a Manuscript…of du Lac. Yes you’ve got it, right. It contains a ritual…”
Buffy went few paces away from him. She had kept her promise, but Angelus’ arrival appeared as…
“Angelus will be here in three days” Spike informed her ending his call. “I’ve told you that.”
“Right” smiled her. She gave him the book holding it with both her hands.
He covered them with his.


“What the hell…what does it mean?” she burst on, drawing them back.
“It’s simply an admired gesture. I wanted touch you.” He drew the book back, this time without touching her, and he smiled. “I’m a nasty vampire, don’t you remember? I find so easy to break the rules.”
“To break the…what do you mean?” asked she with wide-opened and amazed eyes.
“Well, for a vampire with such a reputation as mine, being seen with the slayer is a great misdemeanor to the rules that wanted us as mortal enemies.”
“But nobody can see us” she tried to be ironical, but actually she was still shaking for his touch. “There isn’t a soul round here, literally…”
“Well done, good joke” he laughed. “Also the one about the Corleones’ wasn’t bad”
“Well, now that you’ve found out that I’ve got sense of humor I think we can go.”
“How can I contact you?” he asked. “To tell you where you can find Angelus, of course.”
She squinted at him. Why was he provoking her with such a brazen face?
“So? Are you spellbound?”
“The mobile phone…I guess I’ll give you my number.”
“Yeah, it’s a good idea. So?”
She gave it to him quite nervously. It should be a simple business compromise, between two expert killers, but she couldn’t ignore the impression that it was a part of their particular and dangerous courtship.
Wait a minute! Encore! And where had she taken the word courtship? How was it possible that…
She was still thinking about that when he took her by the hand, the book kept strongly under his arm. Buffy gazed at the vampire, shocked to the bone by that apparently innocent gesture.
It was forbidden to flirt with the vampires. No matter haw much they were…attractive.
“Where are we going?” she whispered softly.
“Inside that chapel. Some people are coming.”
She turned round. A group of middle-school kids was coming. It should be a sort of courage contest between adolescents.
“Come on!” he insisted.
Buffy surrendered. The kids were coming.
Spike pushed her inside a chapel enlighten by a soft candle light. There were also some wood tables.
She gazed at him surprised.
“The crosses?”
He laughed. “They aren’t crosses. That’s a non-sectarian chapel. Very politically correct.”
She looked around. He was wrong. Closed to the apsis, in which some tabernacles were missed, there was a big Crucified. In case of need she only had to run behind it…
“Do you still fear me?” asked him. “I’m amazed. You, a slayer…”
“I don’t fear you.” Answered she, and she was honest.
“And so, why are you shaking?”
C’m on, laughed Buffy inside her mind, don’t you want that a vampire seduces you in a church. It can’t happen. It shouldn’t happen. I, he and seduction are words that don’t match at all.
“I’m cold” lied she.
“If you want my coat…you know I took it from a woman like you. A slayer, I mean.”
She looked at him with abrupt repulsion. He was a slayer murderer. She shouldn’t forget that.
“Maybe it wasn’t the most diplomatic thing to say to you” he admitted. “But I never lie. I’m a vampire. I have no idea of what goodness and rightness are: I fight, I kill, I eat, and I have fun. And my sport is kill the slayers. And I’ve never said that maybe one day I would kill you .” Spike went closed to her and look at her. She could notice, in the halflight enlighten by the candles, that his eyes were blue. “ But I ‘ll never betray you honey, never. When we’ll fight, it will be a loyal clash, on equal terms. You don’t have anything else to fear from me.”
Buffy flinched. She realized that he was looking at her full mouth and she fought against the instinct of closing the eyes, resigning herself to the inevitable…
“You should be as honest as me, luv”
“I’ve told you…”
“Admit it. You’re a slayer, but you don’t know at all what the meaning of that. Yeah, you train yourself, you have a watcher, you kill the vampires…and occasionally you face some threat bigger than you and you win. But what do you really know about the mission of the slayers, about their origins, about their real power?” Spike stopped talking and then he caressed her cheek. She couldn’t hold back his touch as she wanted to, too fascinated by his words which raised doubts, questions that for such a long time were tormenting her in the dark of the night. “You are only a little girl. I bet that you still aren’t seventeen. You stay with that milk-teeth pet and you play the sweethearts without knowing anything ‘bout life, love, sex and about what you really are…”
“And who am I?” she asked him, with a hard glance.
He smiled. “A young passionate woman”
Buffy stood up, enraged.
“What bis that? A quite extravagant and complicated way to make love with me?”
“Yeah, something like that” he admitted “Did it work?”
Yes. Oh my God, yes.
“Why?” she asked. “Don’t you have your lover, who is all your life?”
“Yes” he admitted. “But it’s such a long time that she’s ill”
“I can’t believe that for you it’s so difficult to find a lover…”
“You…do you mean the vampires? And why should we be so different from you humans concerning that?”
Buffy blushed.
“You haven’t already answered to my question. Did it work?”
“No” she replied and she begun to walk away.
“Buffy!” he called her and she stopped, amazed, as she heard he calling her by the name .
“You will really learn something from me. I mean, about your real strength, your power and your darkness.
Something you still don’t know, but that you wanna know. I can feel it.”
She gazed at him.
“I would teach you to dance” added the vampire with a smile.
“Is that a metaphor for…something else?” She asked with a sudden small voice.
“Yeah, but it’s not just that.”
She looked at him with her crystal look.
“Go on then…teach me to dance”.

2. Passion.

He blindfolded her.
She gasped in the wide cold place, in her too much tight dress.
There was no light: the yellow vampire’s eyes could watch very well. On the contrary, she couldn’t see anything. Buffy tried to regularize her heartbeat and to focus her instinct on his presence. She held a stick which was heavy in her fingers, but which could give her some comfort. At least, she had a weapon.
“Take off your shoes” whispered him, with such a bed voice that penetrated in her veins. She obeyed.
She could feel dust under her naked feet, but she didn’t care. After, when she would have been in her clean and nice room, just into her warm childish bed, she had washed herself.
She understood he was surrounding her, following his predator nature. He held a stick too and he was ready to use it. But she would have stopped him before.
“Forget about the technique tonight. Use only your instinct.”
“Why are you bloody training your enemy?” she kidded him.
“Because you’re gonna kill Angelus. And, with that, you’ll make to the world and to me a very big favor.”
She smiled. The game began to be interesting.
When she felt him close, she hit. He was very agile and, with a jump, he was out from her stick’s trajectory.
They continued like that for a while: the dark had become a mild allied for Buffy. Her muscles reacted to a magic and ancient instinct and, for once in her life she didn’t need to “see”.
She hit him on the hip, and he whimpered.
“Watch out love,” he said to her, “you were close to my heart.”
She hit him again, and he gave her tit for tat, hard hitting her on the bottom.
“Ouch!” lamented Buffy. “You’ll pay for that”.
“Really? First you have to catch me”
She laughed. She was stronger and, finally, she knew that. Less expert, of course, less sure about her resources and potentialities, but she was secretly stronger. In the end, she was created for that: to slay. And he was just a vamp. Agile, strong, fast and smart…but just a vamp.
“Stop now” gasped Spike. What she was thinking about was true, but he couldn’t allow that this turns her head: that was about his survival. The little slayer had still a lot of things to learn…
Buffy tried to take away the patch. He stopped her, touching her arm and she startled because of that soft contact.
“Keep it” he whispered and she obeyed again. She knew what he would have done…she knew it and she had accepted that prospect since she had allowed him to train her, to teach her to dance.
That wasn’t the price for his help, but simply the other side of her power, of her ties with vampires. And maybe it was the time of looking her slayer’s nature right in the face.
Spike smiled at her, although she couldn’t see him. With convinced fingers, the vamp began to unzip her black mini-dress.


Next morning Buffy arrived late at school again. She sat near Xander, during chemistry, and she turned on her mobile.
“Waiting for a call?” asked her boyfriend cool.
“Just mom. She had to call me to tell me the time she comes tonight.” Since Xander didn’t answer, and neither smiled, Buffy approached her mouth to his ear.
“I’m sorry for yesterday night Xan. The fact is that Giles and I are in a middle of a quite complex operation…I know, I’ve no excuse, but I promise you we’ll make up for lost time”
He looked at her. “You’ve never kept me in the dark about your job Buff. I’m feeling cut-off. And that’s the same for Willow and Oz. But I’m your boyfriend, damn!”
“Mr. Harris, please put off the soap” said the teacher, interrupting him.
Buffy looked down, pretending to concentrate on the lesson. Xander’s attitude wasn’t making things easier, but at that point she convinced herself that it was better make the best on a bad job. She would have tried to leave down after the lesson.
At that point her telephone rang.
“Miss Summers!” thundered the teacher. “Those things are forbidden here!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, but it’s my mom and it’s urgent!” she tried to justify, and she ran in the corridor under her schoolmates’ amused glances, and the Xander’s preoccupied one.
“It’s me baby” whispered a deep voice she knew well. And, of course, it didn’t belong to her mother.
“Damn, I’m at school!” she burst on.
“But you didn’t turn off the phone…” he laughed. “C’mon, are you wearing them?”
“No”, whispered Buffy, blushing.
“Good” he replied satisfied. “See ya tonight”
“Listen…my boyfriend doesn’t want that…”
“Did you tell him?”
“No…of course not. But he wishes to stay with me, and I…”
“Get rid of him.”
“I can’t. Xander saved my life and he’s a friend”
“But you’re not fucking him, right?”
She startled listening to that vulgar word.
“Well, of course not” continued Spike, glancing to the big bed in which Drusilla was sleeping a restless dream. “I’m sure ‘bout that”
Buffy bate her lips.
“I don’t wanna and I can’t treat Xander bad”
“And I don’t wanna and I can’t waste that night and the next ones. Angelus is already coming and soon you’ll fight”
“So you’re scared that I die in front of you before…”
“…before I get everything I can from you? You’re very acute Buffy. See ya tonight, in the old unattended warehouse.”
“I shouldn’t…”
“But you’ll come” he replied, ending the call.
Buffy looked at the mobile angry with him and with herself. Maybe nearly furious.
But she already knew that she would have gone, and blow all the consequences.


Buffy looked around, forgetful of everything except the intense sensations she was feeling. The unattended warehouse wasn’t less dark that the night before, despite the almost full moon pop out from the loft’s broken glasses. She was prone, on an old plaid that he should have find somewhere in the former warden’s office, unattended now as the rest of the building. The black miniskirt was upon her hips, and the flimsy white panties had been forgotten on the floor, between the dust.
Buffy had disobeyed wearing them to come in that place and she was punished for that: there was still the sign of his belt on her snow-white buttocks.
“You hurt me” lay she with a soft voice.
“I don’t believe you” replied he, opening her with two fingers and going inside her with his erection. Buffy gasped: she was still tight, green and innocent. Almost.
“Oh God” mumbled she while he went down and came back, constantly and harshly, not too fast, not too slow. His pelvis pushed without mercy on her still aching bottom and his fingers came up to gather her breast unleashed from her undo blouse. Buffy whimpered to that new double touch: his fingertips on her breast’s tops were giving her intense sensations she had never felt before. And all of that, together with the pain she felt when he beat her with his leather belt and with the continuous and unmerciful movement of his hips, of his penis inside her, was sending her into ecstasies; she was definitively going haywire.
“Do you like it?” whispered he “What did you feel last night? When we’ve made it for the first time?”
“Again” answered her incoherently, while his right hand was sliding between her thighs, conveniently let opened by the prone position he put her. Buffy cried when she achieved the first orgasm of the night.
Spike didn’t speed up and he continued to brush her with his fingers, trying to extend her pleasure till possible and immediately preparing her to reach the top again. She began to shake her head, closing her eyes, focusing on something ineffable, but so close.
“Tell me you want me”, he whispered in her hears.
“I want you” she admitted, shaking instinctively her hips, searching that delicious friction he could only gave her…
“Tell me you’re mine”
She looked at him, becoming rational for a moment. Painfully rational.
Spike knew he couldn’t have an answer to that question. The reigning slayer was learning pleasure from him, and that was more than he couldn’t expect. Neither he couldn’t understand why he felt that desire of possessing her…beyond sex also, that of course was delightful, as he knew it will always been. But, please, he couldn’t expect that she felt something for him.
The vamp didn’t spin out the embrace and he led her fast to the top, finishing into her. When it was over, he let her gently lay on the plaid, and he saw the spilt blood. Its smell was turning his head.
“Yesterday we didn’t finish, it seems.” He said. “I’ve fully opened you just now”
“I told you it was hurting”
“It didn’t seem that you were moaning so much for that…or, on the contrary, you were moaning…but because of lust” laughed he, playing with himself. She looked at him with big eyes. “What are you doing?”
“You like watching me?” smiled Spike. “You child…wanna help?”
She nodded. Spike took her hand and put it on his erection, clutching her fingers and teaching her to move slowly, up and down…
“You’re so good” whispered him and he smiled to her, caressing her cheek. “And so beautiful. You’re the sweetest and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen”
“And Drusilla?” asked her despite herself.
“Shh…don’t talk ‘bout Dru” Spike took her fingers from his newly erected penis and he grabbed her round the waist. He made her lay in the opposite direction to him and she was just in front of his erection. “That position is called sixty-nine, baby. Guess why…Now I’ll open your legs and I’ll lick and suck you…and if you are a naughty girl you’ll do the same to me”.
A shudder ran trough Buffy’s spine. Spike slid her skirt down from her legs and she was nearly naked, with the undo blouse. She gasped. Twenty-four hours before she shamed to kiss with the tongue, and now…
But that was so delicious. Everything he was doing and teaching to her was delicious. His penis was delicious. She tasted it and then she swallowed it, hungry of his fresh and taut feeling under her lips, her teeth, while he was leading her to the most intense and secret pleasure.
While she was sucking it sweetly, with an innocence full of sensuality, Spike lost control and bit her right on the clitoris, making her feel an intense pain together with the most violent pleasure she’d ever felt. While the spasms were shaking her, he came in her mouth, forgetting her inexperience, and she tasted his sperm, and he was enjoying her blood melted with her fluids.
None of them had ever felt something like that before.
“Spike…”she said softly, after.
“Shh…kitten”
“I’m yours”


Spike took her till Xander’s house. They had fought; they did free exercises while training, with the crossbow and the knives. They made love. And she told him she was his.
Only twenty-four hours and his non-life was shocked.
He barely remembered the reason which had closed him to Buffy: oh, right, the cure for Dru.
Angelus.
Fuck it. Fuck it all, and more than anyone else, fuck Xander Harris.
“You’ll come and delighting him with all the little techniques this nasty and soulless vampire has just taught you?”
“No. I’ll go to him checking out if we’re still friends” replied she “I owe him that”
“Bloody hell Buffy, you don’t owe him anything”
“I owe him my affection. And my friendship.”
He looked at her and he brushed the hair aside her forehead. Her eyes were limpid, but touched. If only Xander had been a little more expert, he would have immediately understood.
“Everyday it happens. A woman discovers her female power. And she understands she can use it with any man she wants. Not only with the one who taught her to use it. I wouldn’t be surprised if you would change your relationship with that baby-boy now.”
Buffy made a pace back.
“I need time to think. What’s happened…it’s simply too big. Yesterday we were enemies…today we’re lovers, and there’s no guarantee that, besides that, our affair couldn’t end with the death of one of us.”
“I’m almost sure it will end like that” smiled him bitterly.
“I wish not” replied she. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him softly. “See ya tomorrow night?”
“And you reflections?”
She smiled. “I’ll make them during the lessons. They’re so boring…”
She was going away, but he took her arm for the last kiss. Buffy let his tongue enter in her mouth and recognized her blood taste. She was immediately aware of the enormity she allowed him to do. And it was so simply to accept it. Her body did that with no hesitations.
“Goodnight” she whispered on his lips.
Spike kissed her again and disappeared in the night. And she prepared herself to face the other side of her life: the enlightened one.
“Mrs. Harris…it’s Buffy. Xander’s girlfriend.”
“Oh, come dear” greeted her mother’s boyfriend. She was in a bad mood. “I’m going out. Tonight we play bingo at the parish. If you want something to drink, just open the fridge.”
“Thanks Madam”
Buffy went down the stairs which led to the basement. She felt a bit of pain behind the legs, but that was nothing compared to what she felt the night before. Added to a lack that only the vampire, that vampire, could fill.
But she couldn’t neglect her relationship with Xander anymore.
He was lying on the bed, watching TV. It seemed a war movie. She greeted him from the stairs.
Xander looked at her with less warmth than usual.
“Good slay?”
“Yeah”
“Come here”
She obeyed, and Xander recognized the meek lovely girl he was used to know. Buffy took his hand; she sat on the bed, caressing his forehead.
“Xander I’m sorry. I’m tracking a famous vampire with Giles. He should arrive in few days in Sunnydale. It’s too dangerous and I don’t want to involve you and the guys.”
“But this is not too dangerous for you?” asked Xander. “I’m worried. And I don’t wanna leave you alone. With the Master my help…”
“Has been essential, I know. And I promise you I’ll let you get involved as soon as possible.”
Xander played for a while with her hair and suddenly he noticed the signs on her neck. “Vampires”
“Yeah, but they didn’t bite me” she lied. Not there at least.
“Oh, Buffy! How I missed you!” Xander, still laid, took her in his arms and kissed her. She half-closed her mouth letting him enter clumsily in it with his tongue. When Xander let wander his hands on her breasts covered by her blouse, she gasped, tented to let him make what he wanted.
Spike was right. Now that she had discovered her sensuality, she wishes to use it freely. From the corner of her eye she saw he had an erection. She amused herself thinking of taking it on her mouth, like she did with Spike before.
But that wasn’t possible: a gesture like that would have shocked Xander and raised a thousand of questions.
She just covered his erection with the palm of her hand: she felt it was becoming bigger under the thin denim’s barrier, and she told herself that her gesture could still appear casual.
Xander barely fell down for the surprise.
“Buffy…don’t stop.”
Proud by that answer, Buffy unzipped his trousers, putting into them her right hand. Pretending hesitation, she let her hand take it as a warm and tight glove, and she made it slide up and down…he let his head back on the pillow, shocked. His girl, Buffy, was making one of that things that guys used to talk about in the locker rooms…Buffy!
When Xander came, and it didn’t take long, Buffy cleaned her hand with some Kleenex he kept near the bed, smiling at him.
“You should be tired” she smiled and yawned. “I’m tired too. Night love, see you tomorrow”
Shocked, Xander saw her went out jumping on the stairs.
And he thought that was just a dream.


“My female power” she thought, while she was patrolling the Sunnydale’s seven cemeteries; the moon was almost full. Two nights had passed since she gave Spike the Manuscript of du Lac…and her virginity…and still no news about Angelus.
With Xander all seemed to be ok again, even if now he was considering her with some kind of reverence that she felt very satisfying. During the break they had locked in the toilet and she knelt in front of him. Causing Xander a total shock, she asked him to teach her to suck it. Xander mumbled something (to be honest, he was virgin still), and Buffy performed causing mutual satisfaction. Xander told he loved her and she felt incredibly free, and strong. Spike had unleashed a part of herself she still didn’t knew well, and perhaps she didn’t like it, but it was real and it was giving her the strength to slay, taking energy from the darkness, from the unsaid, from what it’s better don’t do.
But now twenty-four hours had passed, and she needed him, her vampire lover, his penis and his passion.
She killed a group of five vampires with little dancing movements which gave her a lot of physical joy. When they became dust, she heard a discrete clap.
“Perfect my love. Simply perfect”
She ran through him, approaching her mouth for a kiss. He immediately smelled that she had given Xander her mouth…and not just for a kiss. He was not surprised, but his feelings were a bit hurt.
He created his Golem, unleashing the slayer’s sexuality, and now she was taking her revenge using it how, when, and with everyone she wanted. He couldn’t keep her close to him with sex.
He asked himself if it had been a good choice unleashing her before her meeting with Angelus.
And he shook his head. Still for a while she really belonged to him. Only to him. He saw she was excited, the iris were dilated, the adrenaline was strongly running through her veins after the victorious fight against that vampires.
And a wave of jealousy and possession took him traitorously, shocking him. Mine, mine, mine…without realizing it, he slid into the hunting face.
“What’s up?” she asked, surprised. “Do you smell somebody?”
“I smell you”, he roared, and he kissed her, wounding her lips with his fangs. The excitement due to that wild gesture, to that kiss with his demoniac masque, went on her head. “Yeah…like that…” whispered her, while she let him pushing her against the0 wall of a crypt. The very small rational part of Spike’s mind told him she was getting horny because of his strangeness, the demon in his human look. If that was distorted and perverse he should not be impressed: she was also a creature of the night, forged by obscure powers, and she were taking nutriment and energy from what humans usually repulse and detest.
But that was not a consolation. He felt as an idiot for the feelings that, despite himself, were growing inside him, inside his old heart that should be dead, dead…
“Stop” he said, taking her away from him, and turning to his human face. “Let’s make it” she smiled. “Please.”
He looked at her for a long time. He asked himself again what was really hurting his feelings: the fact he was betraying Drusilla (no, too far), or that she had given herself to Xander (no, nor that; vampires were used to divide their bed with more than one partner with no problems at all…). But, if she would have said a sweet word, a word of love…it seemed that Buffy could have read in his mind.
“C’m on, why are you hesitating? I’ve thought all day long about you…”
He asked himself if that was true, but, at least, it didn’t matter.
It should not matter.
He satisfied her plucking off her slip and raising her legs till they were tight round his waist.


“What’s annoying you?” she asked him after, noticing the nervous way he was smoking his red Marlboro.
“It’s funny, isn’t it?” asked Spike, looking at her. “Now you’re not only a slayer. You’re also a woman. You have two men at your disposal and you shouldn’t work hard to find some others. You’re the master of a new game, funny, uh?”
“Are you jealous of Xander?”
“No, but I wanna know what do you feel. If you feel something…”
She caressed his arm, looking at him with her big green eyes. “Any doubts? Don’t you see what I feel when I’m with you?”
“No”, he sighed. “You come, that’s obvious. But I think you won’t hesitate to stake me right in my heart, the day you’ll get tired of me.”
“You want me to say I love you?” she replied.
“Would be the truth?”
She didn’t answer. She was just looking at him. And then, she burst on.
“And you? It all began ‘cause you wanted to save your precious vampire. You’ve always told me you would have taught me sex, you’ve never promised love. And, besides that, how can it be love between a slayer and a vampire- a demoniac creature? It’s absurd, impossible…and, however, no, I don’t love you. There’s no sufficient trust to make me loving you.”
“I believed you trusted me”
“Not so much”
“Oh, Buffy, you’ve still a lot of things to learn” he laughed bitterly. “Trust is for mature persons, for people married since decades. Love is passion, blind fire, surge…and I believed that, at least, you felt that.”
“Maybe you were wrong” she only said.
“So goodbye sweetie” he said, taking her hand and kissing it with a soft kiss. “I’ve kept my promise: I’ve taught you to dance. And I called Angelus. I’ll let you know when he will arrive and you’ll do the job, but not before Drusilla were cured. And this will become just a souvenir”
“I don’t want…” she began, unaware about her feelings but sure of wanting him there.
“What? Let me go? Say that you will love me forever? By the way, no problem. Who the bloody hell am I to ask for something different, if for you that’s all a sex affair?”
But the vampire, William the Bloody, the slayer of the slayers, was hurt, and that stood out. Buffy had never thought about him as something more than a lover, or than a fantastic sparring partner. And, frankly, she didn’t want to begin now.
Spike understood her so well. He was alive since more than her. Nor seventeen and all that power…logical that it went on her head. Normally he wouldn’t have said a word and he would have kept that small, hot kitten on heat all for himself, particularly now that- with Drusilla so ill- the nights were so long and so cold; but something deep and secret avoid him to shut up about his feelings. Maybe later, when she would have grown up…
Spike began to walk through the unattended factory.
And for the first, but not for the last time, Buffy let that a man who loved her, went away from her.
She was going home, tired, and she only wanted a warm bath, when someone stood in front of her.
She wasn’t surprised seeing Xander.
“Oh God!” she cried out. She was bearing the sudden abandon of Spike still. “I’ve told you’ve nothing to fear. As you can see, I’m safe and sound.”
“I notice.” He replied cold. “And I’ve seen more…enough I would say. You with him. Who the hell is he Buffy? Did you find him in one of the pubs near the port? Is that the kind of man who excites you?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re saying”
“Oh, you know it very well” replied Xander, taking her from one arm. “God, I can’t believe my eyes. You’ve let he took you like a whore…against that dirty wall…now I understand what happened yesterday at home and this morning at school…how much did you change Buffy?”
“Maybe too much for you” she said, keeping calm. “You’ve seen me with another guy. That’s true Xander, I’ve a lover. You’ve heard me saying that I loved him?”
“And so?” said Xander furious. “Why? Do you love me? You’ve never told me…”
“No, and I’ve never told it to him, and to nobody else. But I feel affection for you Xander, really” she looked at him with her clear eyes, begging inside he could understand. “I’m not a normal girl. God knows how I tried…I really tried, with you more than with anybody else. But I’m not. My life’s made of darkness and shadow…and you must accept it, as I’ve accepted it before. They say I won’t live for a long time. Rarely slayers overcome eighteen, and you know that better than anyone else. I can’t fend off the darkness. That man had taught me to embrace them…but I don’t love him. But, in his way, he accepts me. Can you?”
Xander looked at her. For a moment he had no words. She was revealing so different, so new…the word “shock” couldn’t describe neither the half of the sensations he was feeling…and all of them were dreadful.
“He also went away” he said after, furious. “As it seems, what you have to offer is not enough for him too. For me, of course, it’s not. If you thought you could buy me with some dirty tricks in the toilet during the break, you’re wrong”
Xander went away, wounded and angry like Spike, but less diplomatic in showing his feelings.
Buffy remained alone again.
At last she had done what she wanted to: she created the desert around her.
Xander was right. She couldn’t repay his feelings with a bit of sex, and maybe also Spike was right, she was too immature to really understand what she was feeling for him.
But Buffy Summers, the vampire slayer, had just discovered a new good game, and suddenly nobody wanted to play with her.


The morning after, at school, Buffy hid her eyes marked by a sleepless night and a lot of questions, under a pair of sunglasses.
“Buffy” gasped Willow coming. “I’ve known something that…my God, I don’t know how to tell you. But I must, ‘cause you’ll discover it anyways. Xander…”
“Xander left me.” Interrupted Buffy, quietly. “It’s true, calm down. He saw me with another guy.”
Willow looked at her. Then, she shook her head. “God, that’s clear now. ‘Cause he…he…”
Buffy raised her eyes and something stopped in her heart.
In front of her, under the arch which led to the canteen, stood Xander. Embraced. With Cordelia.
“Well…I wanted tell you…it seems they’re together. She tells everyone he’s her new boyfriend.”
A residual of jealousy wiggled in Buffy. Xander. And Cordelia. Who hated themselves since ever. And now they were kissing each other in front of her eyes.
“You didn’t know uh?” told Willow astonished. “It was a surprise for everybody. I don’t know what went up in their minds. Xander…was so mad about you…and Cordelia…had always despised him”
“You didn’t hear what I’ve said before?” replied Buffy with a monotonous voice. “I’ve a lover. Xander knows it and he wanted to revenge. God knows how he could convince Cordy”
“You have another boyfriend?” amazed Willow. “Since when? What’s his name? When we could meet him?”
Buffy assumed a strange expression. And then she answered. “Since a few days. William. Never.”
“And why never?”
“Because he also left me” Buffy laughed for a while. “I’m a wizard about keeping my men, as it seems…”
“Oh, Buffy, I’m sorry…”
“Even if I’m a betrayer?”
Willow didn’t answer. Her eyes, together with Buffy ones, were following Xander and Cordelia, still embraced. “I think that seeing them together make me suffer more than you. Buffy, tell me the truth: you’ve never loved Xander…”
“Maybe not” answered Buffy, taking off her glasses and biting their temple. “But I feel affection for him, and staying with him was reassuring. He gave me a stability that for me, with such a life, was really important. And comfortable. Maybe too comfortable. And I abused.”
“And then what’s happened?”
“I grew up”
“Thanks to that William? How’s he like?”
“Yeah, thanks to William. He’s a charming man, and he’s dangerous.” Buffy was glad her friends didn’t know he was a vampire. In that case she would have died for the shame.
“But it means nothing. It’s over with him too, I told you.”
“Why?”
“Maybe for the same reason which ended my story with Xander. Both of them wanted something I couldn’t give to them.”
“Your heart?” guessed Willow. Buffy nodded even if, in both cases, it wasn’t so simple. She really felt affection for Xander, but she had been too meek with him, too submissive, for the common good. Concerning Spike, they simply couldn’t have a future. It was impossible to promise him that.
Willow and Buffy shut up, watching the new couple. The half of the school would have felt sorry for Buffy, ‘cause she has been abandoned so soon, the other half would have jeered at her. And after, mercifully, everybody would have forgotten.
But she was simply feeling unsatisfied.
She didn’t notice the black limo which was discretely following her since she left home.

3. I only have eyes for you



Angelus. He had to be her priority now. The moment of their meeting was approaching and suddenly all the power she felt running through her veins in those few exalting days was giving the floor to a cold and obscure fear; a sort of presentiment which took her breath away…
The Scourge of Europe. She read all about this powerful and ancient vampire in Giles’ book; dates, places, the staggering and amazing amount of his victims…but it didn’t seem enough. Buffy wanted more. She wanted the essence, not only meagre data. She had just learned directly that a vampire was more than a legend, much more that a paper image described in a dusty tome. Despite the fact that he was dead, a vampire was made of flesh and blood, he was a solid and unpredictable body.
She waited that Giles went away from the library with Miss Calendar -she was taking his arm with confidence and their shoulders were so closed- and then she went in his private office. Maybe she would have found what she was searching for in there…
She shifted through the folders and the records and, finally, when she was nearly to surrender, there it was…
A creased and yellowed photographic reproduction of the only existing portrait of Angelus painted around 1850 and reached by the Council at the beginning of nineteen Century; it had been destroyed during the Second World War.
Forgetful of everything, Buffy sat on the floor, her legs crossed, the photo in her hands. Oh, well…
He didn’t look like exactly as she imagined him…Ok, in the chronicles of the period he was called as the one with the angelic face, but she had never considered that…Oh.
How was that story?
Oh, yeah…the story of Lucifer, the most beautiful angel, the rebel one who become the Lord of the darkness…and seeing the portrait of that young, dark-haired and elegant man, everyone thought spontaneously at him, Lucifer.
His mouth...it seemed it was there to be kissed, bitten, felt and tasted…Oh. And his eyes…of a vivid and three-dimensional black, made to fall deep into them, drowning in them without making any kind of resistance…Oh, well…
Buffy got excited. A strange and untimely heat was rising through her lower abdomen, giving her a titillating fever through all her body…
Hey! Wait a moment! Calm down! What was happening?
She stood up and she dashed off the photo in her bag, then she unlocked the office, making sure of having put everything in its own place. It’s all Spike’s fault, she thought walking through the school’s corridors with the clear and annoying feeling of been luminous as a neon. Yeah, his fault. These new things he taught to her…and now a photo of a guy was enough to make her feel like that!
When she went outside, under the warm, pale sun of late afternoon, Buffy felt better, the ideas cleared up. Ok, it seemed that this Angelus was more attractive than she thought, but he was still a dangerous demon, a bastard, a monster she had to kill. And her crazy hormones will surely calm down with a tisane and some good rest.
Sure!
“You know, they’ve finally rented the house next to us!” said her mother while she was taking off her jacket. “I’ve seen they were carrying the furniture inside…interesting pieces…excellent design, probably European…” Joyce blew in her coffee. “Strange to see that kind of furniture in a neighbourhood like ours…”
Than she realized her daughter’s preoccupied expression and she forgot the neighbours. “Everything’s all right, sweetheart?”
“Just a little headache”, Buffy said smiling. “Tomorrow I’ve a dreadful class test…I was thinking about get ready and go to bed early, if you don’t mind…”
Joyce smiled too, softened. Her little girl had become so good…after all that problems and worries that was a real relief.
“But of course darling…and Xander? He doesn’t come tonight?”
She hesitated a bit. “Well, Xander and me…”
“Oh, you argued…I see” Joyce laughed. “You’ll see it’s nothing. At your age everything seems so insuperable…if you knew how things use to get more complicated after…”
Oh, mom, if you only knew how my life is complicated now, Buffy told herself, going up to her bedroom. She threw her bag away, trying to not thinking about the photo inside. No slay that night…she only wanted to sleep. To rest. A perfect oblivion. She worn the largest and more comfortable pyjama she had, and she snuggled down under the blankets, taking a foetal position, feeling totally, incredibly tired…
She fell immediately asleep. She felt she was sliding down a hill, into a quiet and calm water…
Everything shook…
…shook…
…hips which were moving…
…much more, more and more deep inside…
…again…
…tell me you want me…
…Spike’s voice, in her ears…
…oh, yeah…Spike…she wanted him…yes…
…tell me you’re mine…
…oh, of course it could be only his voice…
…tell me you’re mine…
…Spike? No, that voice…that voice was different…
…a voice which came from the night, a voice made of wind and darkness…
…tell me you’re mine…
…a voice made of warm and liquid gloom…
…another body, strong, vigorous, mighty pushes into her…
…she had to turn; she had to look at him…
…tell me you want me…
A cry died against the pillow and she bit the sheets due to the violence of her orgasm.
Shocked, she stood up in bed; a battlefield of tangled sheets. She was completely sweaty, her panties were wet. God, what a dream…
But was it a dream?
Her muscles stiffened, on the alert. Her room was empty, the window closed. But…it was like someone had been there, closed to her, until a few seconds before…someone who smelled of musk and another undefined pungent fragrance…Oh.


Buffy melted distantly her cereals in the pink porcelain cup. The sun shone, anticipating a spring morning, and everything that happened the night before seemed even trivial…but of course. A mere erotic dream: it happened to all teenage people, didn’t it?
“I don’t think it’s fair” mumbled Joyce, looking at her suitcases in the doorway with a gloomy expression. “Tomorrow you turn seventeen and the gallery sends me to Los Angeles…”
“We’ve already talked ‘bout that” Buffy reassured her. “And you’ve promised me an unrestrained shopping day for next Saturday…I’ll take my great vengeance!”
Her mom laughed. “All right. But tomorrow I’ll commit myself to be back here for dinner and I’ll bring a cake…”
Buffy let her talk. Seventeen…she had almost forgot that, with all the things that…and what was that?
She noticed it only at that moment, on a kitchen’s shelf: a small dark wooden case, perfectly embroidered. “Mom…where is it from?”
“Oh, it’s marvellous, isn’t it?” Joyce said. “It’s a present from our new neighbour. He came yesterday evening to introduce himself and to take a coffee. He’s such an attractive young man...and he’s kind. Very acculturate. He was so sad you were already in bed…”
The cereals stuck in Buffy’s mouth, refusing to move. She had to hurry and drink a bit of milk to don’t choke. “An attractive young man?”
“Hey! Not so young you little girl!” Joyce scolded her. “He should be at least ten years older than you…in any case you’ll have other occasions to meet. I told him he’ll always be welcome”.
Buffy could only clutch the spoon. No…it couldn’t be…Or it could?
“And what’s this bloke’s name?”
“…Mhm…O’Connor. Liam O’Connor. He’s an Irishman I guess. Oh, there’s my taxi!” Joyce took the two suitcases and blew her a kiss. “I must hurry love! I’ll call you!”
“Bye” Buffy whispered, still sitting at the table, the spoon pointed to the high like a question mark. C’mon Summers, what do you know ‘bout Angelus? What have you read ‘bout him?
No one knew the year he became a vampire, neither anything about the place, nor about his former human identity. No one who had survived from him was ever so close to him to understand his accent. He was enfolded in the purest and most obscure mystery. The only thing she knew for sure was that The Scourge of Europe was not used to show mercy towards nothing and nobody.
A hesitating, but brave, sight of relief relaxed her breast. Yep, Angelus was like that…and really such a powerful vampire would have wasted his time bringing little presents to her mom to enter in her house? And he would have rented a humble villa in the suburbs, under everyone’s eyes, just to hunt her?
No, monsters like him and William The Bloody didn’t behave like that, didn’t they?
And, besides that, Spike had promised to call her when Angelus would have been in town…right?
Buffy nodded to herself and continued to eat her cereals. That O’Connor should simply be one of that scrawny and nicely guys all moms were fond with. Just that.
She still had time. All the time she needed to prepare herself to that fight.


Above her the laces of the canopied bed wove a secret starry sky, with nameless stars to discover…Drusilla, laid among the pillows, was moving her fine and pale hand like in a dance, spying their movements. She felt he was lying next to her and her pearly face became bright.
“I was dreaming and my dreams were talking to me…” she whispered, brushing his lips with her fingers.
Angelus took one of her dark black locks and smiled to her with one of his sweetest smiles which he kept for her only. “And what were they saying, my love?”
Drusilla squatted against his chest. “That you’ll give me the black medicine and you’ll make me feel better”. He kissed her on a temple and a soft sleepiness overcame her.
“Shhh…Yeah, you’ll feel better. You’ll shine in the night, I promise you…” he whispered in her ears, but she was already asleep.
“She’s getting more and more week…” sighted Spike, nervously lighting up a cigarette.
“We’re almost done. The moon will be full in four days.” Angelus went down from the bed. “Everything ready?”
Spike exhaled the smoke, looking to his grandsire. As usual, he couldn’t avoid himself to look at him. Angelus was surely the most dreadfully beautiful thing darkness and evil had ever generated and for a long - maybe too long- time he aimed to a piece, a miserable surrogate of that gloomy perfection. He used to. Now it was over. Perhaps.
“Yeah, everything’s all right. We have the Manuscript and the Cross of du Lac. And you.”
“…mhm…you’ll stick the knife inside the cross…in my heart?” asked Angelus, waiting for a bit in front of Drusilla’s puppets. That day almost all of them were blindfolded and turned over.
Spike shrugged his shoulders. “No, if you don’t want to…we only need a bit of your blood after all; we don’t need to eviscerate you…”
Angelus smirked. “What a pity, uh?”
The two vampires laughed softly, to don’t disturb Drusilla’s sleep and they went in another room of the old factory.
“Call the Slayer. Tell her that I’m here. Better if we observe the plan.”
“What?” Spike put out the cigarette under a Doc Martens. “I thought that…”
“That she was aware that I live next to her?” Angelus’ white teeth shone in the half-light. “It could be, but she is not so smart, isn’t she?” He shook his dark haired head. “Gosh, the Council is no more able to teach to its slayers and watchers…all her powers are still asleep, useless…”
“She moves quite well on the contrary…” Spike objected, repenting immediately. When had he learned to shut up?
Angelus’ dark eyes looked daggers for a while, sly. “I could imagine …But a Chosen one, one with a capital “c” must be able to do more. Yesterday evening she had to notice that her mother was sitting in the lounge with a vampire, but…”
“I hope you didn’t eat her mother…”
“No. On the contrary I drank her dreadful coffee listening to her foolish words…you couldn’t imagine how many commonplaces an American can say about art…” Angelus quivered, and then he looked at Spike again. “You should have trained a lot that little girl…”
“Don’t understand.”
“Oh, you know, she came only smelling my scent…”
Spike swallowed. “Really? I had to use a bit more than my scent to let her come…”
Angelus laughed of that typical childish laugh which had worn out also a stone. He gave him a hit on the back. “Someone can and someone cannot Spikey…” He approached, taking his chin. “Hey, why this sad little face? Are you jealous?”
Spike wriggled. “Jealous? Of that too tight little slut?” He tidied up his leather coat, signing the room next door with his blonde head. “I’ve had fun, but I’ve most serious things to think about. For what it concerns me, you can do all that you want with little Slutty.”
Angelus nodded arching an eyebrow, and he came through the exit. While he moved it seemed that his long black coat was capturing little parts of the night, disassembling them through a prism of dark nuances. “Sure, you cub. I’ll do to her everything I want.”


A bath. She really needed it, after that bad day passed under the bad glances of her schoolmates. She didn’t really care…she wasn’t really impressed seeing Xander and Cordelia together. Made for each other, probably.
But Xander begun to upset her with his continuous reproachful expression; he was treating her as an expert prostitute…
Prostitute? Where that word does came from?
Buffy snorted, while she was finishing taking off her underwear. She had to stop thinking about that.
Hang Xander Harris and his churchy hypocrisy! He enjoyed a lot her little tricks, didn’t he?
And she could bet her shopping-Saturday that Cordelia Chase was quite an expert in that field…
She entered in the tub, enjoying, as soon as she touched the water, the shivers which ran through her body.
When that entire story about Angelus would be over she should find a boyfriend, a real one, she told herself trying to relax without any result. She felt rigid and tense…she missed Spike. Particularly she missed sex. She didn’t understand how someone could live without making sex. Didn’t they feel like they were exploding? Didn’t they wanna scream?
Well, she wanted to.
She went under the water to wash her hair and when she came up two big and masculine hands leaned upon her eyes.
No fear. It was jus him. She…she was waiting for him.
“It’s just me” he whispered from her shoulders, with his voice made of wind and darkness, his full lips brushing her lobe.
“I…I was waiting for you,” Buffy faltered.
“Naughty girl…” continued he, “Don’t you know that good girls don’t think about those things in the tub? But you’re not a good girl, isn’t it? You make some good things to your male friends at school…”
His hands slid on her neck and then down on her breast. “You fuck with vampires against the crypts’ walls…”
And the hands went down, in the water. She could only see those hands, those long fingers, two rings, one with a red stone, the other made of silver with a sophisticated shape. “You naughty, naughty girl…”
The glow of the red stone disappeared between her legs and Buffy instinctively dug her feet against the tub sides. “Weren’t you feeling like you were exploding?” that dark and liquid voice tormented her, “Didn’t you wanna scream?”
His hand was moving faster. “Explode then. And scream.”
Buffy opened her eyes, painfully banging her head against the tiled wall near the tub. Gasping, she waited that the spasms of that new, incredible orgasm calmed down. A dream. Always a dream.
And always the same scent. Musk and something else.
But what was happening then?
The ring of her mobile frightened her, and she banged her head for the second time. She went in her room, still confused, rough and ready wrapped up in a bath-towel…And she noticed it just at the moment she picked up the phone. On the floor there was a big and oblong envelope. It was sealed with sealing-wax. And upon the wax there was a letter: “A”.
Shaking, she picked it up and she opened it. Oh, it contained a drawing. Or, better, a portrait. Her portrait. She was sleeping. Oh…
The paper fell down to her hand and she hardly could keep he mobile-which was continuing to ring- in the other one. “Hello!” she cried, incapable to control her hysteria.
“Ehy slayer…”
Buffy’s eyes were desperately running through every single corner of her room. “Spike?”
“Any other guess? I told you I would have called you when Angelus would have arrived, so…”
Buffy switched off the phone. She was out of control. She felt anger. Fear. Pure excitement. But fear mostly.
Oh, hang Spike! , she thought, I know that Angelus has arrived. And I also know where he is.


God willing, Giles was still in the library. She found him while he was examining a tome of at least one thousand dusty pages…and she didn’t even try to guess in which dead language it could be written.
“Buffy, it’s late, what are you doing here? What…” the watcher stopped to talk, looking doubtfully at her wet hair.
“Oh, God, the hair-dryer had broken…like that, suddenly.” Buffy said avoiding to make him notice the shadow of red lipstick in his blouse’s reverse. Naughty Rupert…
“Oh. So why are you here? Something wrong?”
Ok, thought Buffy. Lie and say a big lie. He must believe you immediately. “I was thinking about Angelus…”
Giles frowned. “You were thinking about Angelus…”
“Yep…Well, you told me he’s not a common vampire…I mean, he’s not that kind of vampire tat waits for you at a street corner to overtake you…he’s smart. A refined guy, right? And if…if he decides to attack me through my mom? He can do that, right?”
“Buffy!” Giles said, turning pale. “What are you trying to say? Angelus has already arrived? Did he hurt your mom?”
“No, nothing like that!” she reassured him shaking her hands. “But that can happen, right? I’ve read about his…angelic face…If he came in front of the door, with a well-built excuse, mom would immediately invite him to come in…and then…”
“And then it would be over”, sighted Giles. “At least for your mother. Buffy, you’re right. I’m a stupid, I didn’t think about that…It could be typical of Angelus. He has never loved easy ways. He loves overcoming the stereotypes. And he loves playing with his victims, tired them in their minds before than in their bodies…Some watchers had the theory that his goal is not blood, but the dominion. Absolute dominion.”
Buffy gulped, feeling a bit sick. “If your purpose is calm me down…well, stop now!”
“Sorry, I feel like an idiot…but it’s like till now I didn’t want to accept that you have to fight with that monster…”
“And now do you accept it?”
“You seem quite sure about that.”
“And I really am. Call it Slayer instinct…” Buffy stood up, resolute. “Is there any spell to protect the house, or, better, to stop the entrance? My mom is in Los Angeles and I shouldn’t explain her anything about incense, Latin and all this stuff…”
Giles stood up. “Sure!” He went fast up the stairs and disappeared behind the shelves, coming out after a while with a small, bad shaped volume. “I was reading it just some days ago. It’s a small treatise about the most efficient spells to keep out vampires and demons. It contains also a list of ingredients and wordings…but I can search for more material, if you want…”
“Thanks…”, she whispered keeping the book as it were a relic. “I’ll go to the magic shop and then I’ll call Willow to ask her help.”
“Ah…Buffy…” Giles stopped her. He was serious. “I wanted to say that…well, I’m very proud of you. I’ve noticed that you’re growing up and you’re carrying on your mission more seriously. Well done, I was hoping for that.” He smiled rapidly. “I know you think you can face your destiny all alone, but that’s not completely true. You’re the Chosen one, I’m your watcher and I’ve the duty to guide and support you.” He lowered his eyes.
“With the Master…you’ve cut me out. And I’ve understood and accepted your reasons. But, please, don’t do it again. Let me help you. As soon as Angelus arrives come to me. Right Buffy? Do you understand?”
Buffy blushed, hoping that he would think that she was moved by his unusual and paternal speech. She nodded, and she went out running.
Oh Giles, she thought, it’s too late now…


Damn to too tight mini-skirts, mumbled Buffy to herself, fighting to overcome the window. The bag which contained the ingredients for the spell fell down from her hand on the floor with a sinister sound of broken glasses. At the same time, somebody turned on the light.
“Tell me…” Angelus asked her, laid in her bed, with her furry pig, Mr Gordo, in his hands. “Why haven’t used the door, since your mom’s not at home? Habit? Super heroine megalomania?”
Buffy froze, astride the window-ledge. Was it a dream?
No…not that time. Angelus was there. And he was real.
She looked at him, frozen. He wore, under the leather coat, a wine coloured shirt and leather pants. He had leather shoes with silver buckles which looked like spurs. Not a single, bloody detail was unkempt. Not even a dream could be so perfect.
He let that Buffy examined him. “If I were you, I’ll come down from there darling…I can see your panties from here…”
Buffy jumped in, like she got burned, treading on the glasses inside the bag. “So…you’re Angelus…”
The vamp smiled. “The one and the only Angelus.”
“Well…if we have to fight, it’s better going out. I don’t wanna fill my room with your dust”.
Angelus laughed softly, sensually hunching back his dark-haired head. “You’re funny…”
His fingers, with the two rings she knew very well, were diving in Mr. Gordo’s pink fur, in a way Buffy found both outrageous and sensual.
“And we cannot fight until I’ve taken part in the ritual to cure Drusilla. You’ve promised that to Spike.” he said, regaining her attention.
“You know about…”
“About your deal with Spike? Of course. I always know everything about Spike’s actions.”
Buffy staggered “Everything?”
“Everything” Angelus replied looking at her. “And, by the way, I don’t wanna kill you.”
“Don’t you?”
“No. Why should I?”
“Oh…let me just guess…” Buffy provoked him, beginning to feel more confident. If she avoided his eyes, black like perdition, maybe she would have a chance.
“Maybe because I’m the Slayer and you are The Scourge of Europe?”
“Roles. Duty. Missions.” He sighted, putting the little pig on the blanket and standing up.
“That typically human tendency to classify and encage…deplorable.” He tided up his coat, looking at her, enjoyed. “You’re not getting what I’m tellin’ you, right? Yeah, you’re not so keen on words…you want action.”
He had been faster than the eye, and suddenly he was close to her, no more than two steps.
And Buffy could see any particular of his face. And she had the evidence that the abyss of his glance was endless.
“You want someone who can teach you to dance…like Spike” He was coming closer, and he was so tall, so…so…
Buffy forgot all the attack or defence gestures. She could only smell that familiar musk scent. And something else. And it was penetrating in her veins, like a bust.
“And what has our Spike done?” Angelus whispered. “Maybe this?”
In a fraction of a second his mouth, that mouth to bite, was upon hers, inside hers. She opened her lips nearly with relief, and the warm contact with the vamp’s tongue gave her a burst of pleasure. Warm, yeah…She wasn’t surprised. She could distinguish blood taste now. And this, for an ancient and mysterious reason, inebriated her. He was so tall…and she caught him by the back of the neck, forcing him to bend more, to devour her…
But Angelus stopped and he took her by the neck, taking her away from him. “And then?” he was gasping a bit. “What has he done? Like that?”
He rudely pushed her against the wall and he raised her, putting her legs under his hips. Her mini-skirt got immediately torn and Buffy suffocated a moan, feeling his erection, ready, against his leather pants. Angelus pushed his pelvis against her and she immediately opened her legs, clutching to his shoulders, with a desperate request in her eyes.
“Is this the dance Spike told you?” Another push. “Well, Slayer…that’s a dance he learned from me…” His lips were titillating her neck and his erections continued to push against her, without giving her any satisfaction. “Like a lot of other things. Mysterious things. Secrets. Truths. Do you also wanna learn from me Buffy?”
Oh, her name…It was the first time he was calling her by the name. And it seemed another name in his mouth. Another girl she didn’t know. And maybe it was time to know her. But she had no breath…no breath to answer.
Angelus freed himself from her, and she fell down. “You know where I am.” He said, turning around the bed. When he was in front of the door he turned round, stolid, as if anything wasn’t happened between them. “If you don’t mind, I prefer the main entrance.”
Buffy remained on the floor, her heart was fool, her thought were confused. He went away.
Gone. Just like a dream. Or a nightmare.
Then she licked her swollen lips, sticky with his taste. Blood taste.
And now she was trapped in that dream. In that nightmare.



4. Birthday



Willow was brushing her hair when the telephone rang. She looked interrogatively at herself in the mirror: it was nearly dawn, who was calling her?
“Hi Will” Oh, it was Buffy! But what a strange voice…weak, tired…
“Hi! Everything all right? And…hey, happy birthday!”
“Wil, you’ve got to help me” Buffy interrupted her. Her tone was so unusually peremptory, that Willow shut up. Surely, something was wrong.
She sat on the bed. “Tell me everything.”
She heard Buffy sigh in the handset. “Soon I’ll fight with a really dangerous vampire…”.
“More than the Master?”
Silence. Another sigh. “More. Yeah. Much more…I need to stay a bit alone Will. Giles still insists on that silly meditation training, but, you know, it works actually…and I have to get ready. I have to think.” A pause. “Do you understand me?”
“Yeah, but…” Willow hesitated. “Today you turn seventeen…won’t be better for you if you stay with your friends? I know that Xander is behaving as a lout, but if he knew that…”
“No!” Buffy nearly looked hysteric. Willow seriously begun to worry.
“Right…Tell me what I’ve to do…”
“I need only one day. You’ve to cover me at school, especially with Giles. He’s already sufficiently anxious, you know…tell him my dad’s come to take me, ok?” Silence again. “Will, I know you don’t like telling lies, but that’s a personal favour. I only can rely on you. Please.”
“But of course. No problem.” Willow pretended a confidence she didn’t have. “Willow takes care of that!”.
She listened to her friend’s cold and mechanical goodbye, than she put down the handset and she stood on the bed, the hands on her knees, looking at the sky beyond the window.
What was happening?


Buffy took the bag full of weapons and went out early in the morning. It was a fine shiny day.
And she lied to her best friend. As, the night before, she lied to her watcher.
And lying had been dreadfully easy. Even natural.
She walked along the frontage road. She said hello to a couple of neighbours out with their dogs, and then she stopped in front of the number 1628. A villa like the other ones…appearances could be deceptive, wasn’t it?
She filled her chest with a big long sigh, with the fist clenched. Useless to wait more, she had to go immediately, she felt ready- no, no, damn, she was lying to herself also-, during the day, so if something went wrong she could run away where she was sure no one could follow her…she hardly freed the trapped sight. That was the trouble: a part of her was sure that she would never run away from that house, even if she had got the opportunity to…
She turned back for a moment and she looked at the precinct, at the pastel blue sky. It was almost like a goodbye glance. She knew she wouldn’t have seen things as the same way as before, once she had passed that threshold.
When she was sufficiently near she noticed that the front door was opened and left ajar, as he was waiting. What an arrogant bastard, thought Buffy. The dark inside disoriented her for a bit, but she noticed almost immediately some characteristics: the room disposition was alike the Summers’ one, but the furnishing was so different, European, with heavy and carved wooden furniture and Oriental carpets. No noise. With a suffocating sense of oppression Buffy looked at the stairs.
Ok, step by step.
Upstairs she discovered a soft pink lighting which filtered from under a door. She reached out her hand to take the handle, and she noticed she was trembling. Damn, she had to calm down, and be alert.
The door opened slowly on a strange room, wide and nearly empty apart from some little tables in Nipponese style, halogen lamps and Chinese prints. The curtains which covered the windows were made of a thick and cream-coloured fabric; on the floor there were a couple of enormous angora carpets. She saw him immediately and despite herself her heartbeat fastened.
He stood up, his back turned to her, and he was wrapped up in doing something. He worn nothing apart the trousers of a black silk pyjama. Buffy was impressed by the tattoo on his back, on the right shoulder blade: it looked like a bird…No, it was a bat. Yeah, a bat whose claws made a letter, the A.
“Nice tattoo”, she decided to say.
Angelus turned back, showing no surprise at all, with a book in his hand. “Thanks. It was 1760. A Chinese prostitute made these little masterpieces in Marseille’s port.” He smiled thinking about that. “She also was a masterpiece actually…a miniature with alabaster skin who could take the most amazing postures…”
Buffy’s cheeks blushed, when she remembered what she did with Spike, and the same image with Angelus and the little Chinese doing the same occupied her mind inopportunely. That made her nervous. “I’m not here to recall the good old days.”
Angelus threw the book upon one of the little tables. “Hum…and why are you here then?” He pointed at the bag she had on her shoulder. “That is full of weapons…Do you wanna fight or do you wanna learn? Because if you wanna learn you don’t need weapons. Not the ones made by men.” He shrouded her with a sole, penetrating glance. “You’re already armed Slayer. With your power.”
Buffy felt hot, too hot. “Today I turn seventeen” she whispered. “I think that’s the perfect age to learn…I’ve defeated the Master, but it was a lucky chance. With you I’ll lose, I see it. So, if you can teach me more about my powers…ok, I’m in”. She hesitated, but then she finished. “Maybe, guess what, I’ll exceed my teacher and I’ll defeat him”, she ended, keeping her chin high, with all the dignity she had.
He clapped, laughing. “What a good speech…If I had listened to it at the cinema I would have surely felt moved. But you wannna learn. I praise that”.
“So?” she hounded him, more and more nervous. “What happens? You have to blindfold me or something like that?”
Angelus begun to laugh and a series of shivers spread all over her body. “No, wait…let me guess…Spikey blindfolded you?”. He continued to laugh. “Ah, it’s incredible! One hundred and twenty years and he still uses those proletarian-masochistic clichés…” He looked at her again, almost sweetly. “No Buffy I don’t wanna blindfold you. I want you keep your eyes opened”.
Oh, why did he pronounce her name?
When he pronounced it, it was like a blow, a taut sigh, an incredibly sexy sound.
Buffy shook her head, trying to clear her head.
“So, we begin? What can you teach me?”
“Darkness.” He answered, lazily walking in circles, his naked feet that went down on the angora.
“You fight it, but you don’t know it. As all the human beings you conceive it as something totally dark, with no colour at all…but darkness has more than one dimension, more than one nuance, a measureless depth. You can’t only watch it from the opposite line, you have to meet it, fall in its arms, see its breath and its colours.” He stopped, looking at her. “If you really wanna fight darkness, you must taste it before, and understand if you like that taste. And maybe, if you like it, you could have a possibility to defeat it.”
The pink glow of the halogen lamps was brightening up his skin, flowing over it, underlining every shape and every muscle. “And by the way Slayer, don’t you believe that a power like yours comes only from the light, right? Nothing in Nature is made up only by light. A part of darkness is always needed.”
While he was speaking he approached and his naked and exhibited beauty dried her mouth and dilated her pupils. It wasn’t working in that way…a desperate little voice, buried in her agitated brain was shouting to her that she was already trapped, and that her destiny was already done…
“So Buffy…do you really want that?”, Angelus asked her, turning around her. “Do you want that I teach you how to embrace and taste darkness?”.
Was there still another possibility?
Could she still answer no and run away through the day?
Buffy moistened her lips, although she had no more spittle. “Yes”, she whispered.
She heard him stand for a moment behind her shoulders. “Well. Get undressed.”
She startled. “What?”
“It’s easy. Get undressed, Slayer”, he ordered again, going out of the room. “Take off everything”.
Where did he go? Why had he left?
With a short breath, and the fingers which refused to collaborate, she clumsily took off her jacket, her tennis shoes, her trousers, her t-shirt…she hesitated on her underwear, but he said everything and she was afraid to ask herself which kind of punishment she would have received if she had refused to obey. She was afraid of desiring that punishment…
Why didn’t he come back now?
She didn’t know where keep her hands: she had the instinct to cover herself, but perhaps it was better if she stayed straight and proud, to show him she was free from the charm he believed to have on her…God, what a liar…
At last-oh, yeah, at last- Angelus came back in the room, with a porcelain basin and a big lush. Buffy stiffened. What was the meaning of that? What the hell did he want to teach her with a basin and a lush?
But as soon as the dark eyes of the vamp dwelled on her every doubt disappear in the most total and immediate excitement.
“Your body”, he said putting the basin on the floor and dipping the lush in the water. “Your power is in your body. You must take care of it, treat it as if it were a temple”. He stood in front of her and, after he raised her hair, he approached to wash the back of her neck and her back.
Oh Heaven…Heaven…Heaven…Buffy searched painfully another word for her thoughts…Everything useless. There was only Angelus, and his large and smooth chest which brushed her firmed nipples and that chain, that chain he worn and that she noticed just now…And which swayed, back and forth, in the cavity of her breast. And the hot water was sliding from her neck till her bottom.
And his hand that was holding her hair, the rhythmic pressure of the lush…Oh, Heaven…Heaven…yeah, a black Heaven was coming…
Angelus’ voice, although really near, seemed to come from an incredible distance. “Have you ever asked to yourself why there are no male slayers?”
He moved away to wash the lush in the water again, then he knelt, massaging her gluteus and her thighs. Looking at him standing like that, his dark-haired head at a few centimetres from her belly made her feel dizzy. She tried to reach his shoulders.
“No” he stopped her peremptory. “Don’t touch me.”
He washed her feet then he stood up to concentrate on her breast. “So, have you ever thought about that?”, he insisted moving the lush around her nipples. “Answer”.
Buffy blinked her eyes a couple of times. “uh…no”. She was concentrated on the part of his shoulders that bended trough his upper-arm, the vague imperfections of his skin…so paradoxical, but so true…She imposed herself to look at that point to ignore the streams of hot water which from her chest stopped on her pubes’ locks.
“Only a woman can slay a vampire”, he was explaining to her, quite. “Women and vampires are alike, the two weigh scale.” The lush was on her right hip now. Shivers, a cloud of painful, burning shivers. “Blood Buffy. That links us. With blood women creates, with blood we destroy, but blood is at bottom of our power. The root. The source.” Now the left hip. Oh God…God…”Your strength is blood Buffy. That blood which flows from your deepest recesses, which moves with the tide, which pulses in your fibres as our victim’s veins do, while they give us their life to extend our death”.
Again, Angelus knelt. He introduced a hand between her knees and he made her open her legs a bit, then he begun to brush softly her private parts. Buffy startled: the lush was soft and so hot. Oh God…Somebody was gasping really loud in the room. Who?
Was there anybody else?
Oh, I am…God, I’m gasping so loud…
“Do you feel it Buffy? Do you feel that heat which radiates from your centre?” He observed her, from his underneath position, with his angel face, a deception belied by that too morbid mouth, by that too dark and disturbing eyes. “Do you feel the energy which spread in your blood?”.
He used the lush with a soft and titillating kindness. Buffy stiffened, waiting the orgasm, so dangerously imminent…but when the top was nearly there Angelus went away, putting back the lush and he begun searching in a settle.
Buffy gasped, shocked, her legs which threatened to crack. He gave her a black silk petticoat. “Put it on!”.
Still shocked by an uncontrollable inner tremor she obeyed and the soft fabric moulded to her humid skin. Black silk, the same Angelus was wearing, that swished when the vamp moved. And he was moving, as a feline that studies its victim.
“Collect the energy” he whispered. “All your emotions; fear, anger, excitement…Collect them in your blood, in the original core, let them hoard…and then, free them.”
Buffy breathed in and out. Emotions…fear…anger…excitement…
“Think about the first motion your instinct suggests you”, he continued. “And free your power”.
She was contemplating his lips, the shape they assumed when he talked.
Emotions…fear…anger…excitement…
She did not realise what she was doing. An instant before she was preparing a fist, and an instant after Angelus went on the carpet.
He whistled, holding on his elbow and rubbing his chin. “My congratulations! A good straight right…” he challenged her, arching an eyebrow. “But was it really the first motion your instinct suggested you?”
She was on him in a minute. “Shut up”. She took his face, passing her thumb on his mouth to open it, and then she filled it with her warm breath. “Shut up”. She kissed him, pressing, voracious, desiring his blood’s taste, inebriating with his musk’s scent, and she took his member in his trousers.
She felt it growing up, becoming harder, and raved she left his mouth to stand upon him, trying to guide it inside her. She wasn’t expert…at that point it had always been up to Spike…but she wanted him. She couldn’t wait anymore. And it was easy at last…maybe too much.
With a typically feminine sexy gesture she put her petticoat up her hips and she begun to move, asking him only with her glance an answer in his dark distant eyes…but Angelus didn’t cooperate. He lied relaxed, with a lazy smile, indifferent.
She fastened the rhythm, unsatisfied, concerned. Was she committing some mistakes?
Damn, help me!
“You don’t free anything…”he whispered, provocative. “anything at all…”
Buffy reacted beating his chest with little angry fists, on the edge of a top she knew she couldn’t reach all of her own. She moaned, frustrated.
Suddenly Angelus took her wrists. “Do you want that I show you what it means free your power Slayer? Do you want Buffy?”
She was nearly crying, and she nodded. Oh yeah, free me…please, free me…
He transformed with a roar and, still inside her, he put her on her back, pushing her under himself. The rhythm immediately changed, becoming slower and more resolute.
He made love differently from Spike, he moved his hip in a way she was forced to follow him, to experience like that his pushes with more depth…and every push was a flash of blinding pleasure which she felt in her stomach.
And his face…She had never seen him in his demon-face…he was still so particularly handsome. His eyes were yellow and bright. He has golden eyes, Buffy told herself amazed, God, he has golden eyes…and that teeth…suddenly she desired to be penetrated in all the possible ways. She wanted to feel him, everywhere.
“Bite me…”, she implored him. “Please, bite me…”
But Angelus didn’t listen to her. He fixed her arms over her head, entering in her with no mercy and Buffy was overwhelmed by more that one orgasm, one inside the other; a unique, multiform wave of ecstasy which ran through her, from her feet’s fingers till her hair.
And the black oppressive sky fell down and swallowed her.


Was the day still outside?
Did it really exist?
Or the whole world had disappeared and only that room, that carpet had remained?
And was it normal that she felt her body so dilated, with no stable borders?
Bored of the decorations on the roof, she turned to her lover, the Scourge of Europe, who was looking her quietly, the face on his crossed arms.
She had scratched him, during their sensational embrace. A dribble of blood was coming down the complicated tattoo. She reached out a finger taking a drop and she tried to taste it, but Angelus stopped her hand. “No. You’re not ready for that blood yet.”
Looking in her eyes he sucked her finger. Buffy sighed, bending her back a bit.
“Is that what will happen?” she asked. “You’ll do that to me?”
He smiled, looking incredibly young. “I won’t do to you anything that you don’t want to…”
Oh God…all right then…
Buffy took off her petticoat and she rubbed herself on the carpet. “Do you need some suggestions?”



“So?” Joyce cried from the kitchen. “How do you feel after having turned seventeen?”
“Nothing special” mumbled Buffy squatted on the sofa. On the TV screen, a 40’s couple was singing a sweet classical song, in a musical of the period. “I’m just older.”
Her mom appeared bringing a small cream cake with a candle on its top. “What a lot of sadness…Something’s wrong?”, she asked, while her smile becoming less convictive. “I know that cake’s not so beautiful, but the plane had landed in late and…”
“No, what are you saying?” Buffy apologized. “I’m just tired…you know, the party at Willow’s house was so funny…”
Joyce sat next to her, with a doubtful expression. “Xander was there I suppose…You are still angry right?”
Buffy shook her head. “Yeah…but don’t worry. You’re cake’s beautiful and I love you.”
“Me too my darling. Happy birthday!” She gave her the cake. “C’mon, if you blow out the candles, your wish will come true!”
Buffy smiled and she put her head on her shoulder, cuddling up to her. “Mmm…then I’ll let them blow out…”

6. New moon rising



It was a wonderful night; a lot of stars and the soft glow of the upcoming moon rising was just beyond the houses' roofs. Giles tossed off his brandy. Good heavens, maybe a whiskey would have been better. A double one.
That beautiful and limpid night was the night. The ritual to heal the companion of William the Bloody would have been celebrated. And Buffy, his slayer, nothing more than a little girl, wanted to fight him, and something much more deadly, the Scourge of Europe, who represented the darkest dream of every watcher, alone. At that name, Giles couldn't smother the curiosity and the desire to meet and study up close a creature full of such an obscure power…
He poured himself another drink, breathing faster. Buffy had known from her nark the ceremony's place. And she told him nothing. Giles smothered an angry gesture. She wanted to protect him…God, I must protect her!
He kept his promise and he didn't say anything to the guys. After all, it was the right thing, in addition to the problem with Xander, and could only increase the stress. And obviously he didn't want to involve Jenny. But he didn't want to sit and wait. He, Rupert Giles, who once upon a time had been called Ripper, was an extremely well trained watcher, especially for this sad but long awaited fight with the Scourge and his devotees. He knew that the ritual should have been performed in a church…Well. In Sunnydale there were forty three churches, but the number decreased if he looked for the ones closed or abandoned.
He put down the glass and opened the big chest which he used to keep his personal collection of weapons. I'm sorry Buffy, he told himself, choosing the ones most effective and easiest to carry, I'll find you and then I'll try and help you.
Spike looked at the big window which decorated the wall behind the altar. The stained glass was becoming brighter and every tone became liquid, as if they were dripping. The moon was rising, finally.
He negligently looked at the vampires who were awaiting his instructions in silence. “Nobody must enter. Kill every unaware passer-by, even if he only takes a leak on the other side of the street, right? Nothing, absolutely nothing must go wrong.” And he almost laughed while he was saying that, because he had the distinct feeling that something wrong was already happening…unless…
He saw Angelus enter from the vicarage’s small door and for an instant, maybe a split second, maybe a little more, all the words and all the thoughts went out of his mind. His grandsire's black shirt was undone and opened, and clung to him, looking like the night, seduced, was following him, trying to penetrate his skin. And these strange buckles which looked like spurs produced such a sinister noise at every step. Bloody hell, Spike sighed, and he went towards him.
“…mhm…I hope you know that the Slayer's here…” The blonde vampire pointed to the church entrance. “I suppose she's inside one of the confessionals down there”.
“Sure I know that Spikey”, Angelus replied. “What the hell kind of questions do you ask me?”
“This one: why? Why does she play hide-and-seek in such a ridiculous way and more important: why do we let her stay?”
Angelus came closer and hit him on the forehead. “Knock knock, Spikey…Is there anyone in there?”
Spike went away, more upset with himself than with Angelus. “You think she's come to…watch?”
“I don't think that. I know that”, Angelus confirmed with his usual, irritating self-assurance.
“But the other night she told me she wanted to stop the ritual…”
“Sure. That's what she is repeating in her confused head right now…Bla, bla, bla…”
Spike desperately wanted a fag, but it wasn't the right time to smoke. He arched his eyebrow, the one crossed by the scar. “And if you're wrong? If she surprises you?”
Angelus smiled and he put an arm around his shoulders, holding him. “Ah, Spikey, do you know what I like in you?”
“No…But I bet you'll tell me right now…”
“Yeah…that, despite everything, you're always that sentimental poet who was looking for the effulgence Drusilla brought home…” the two vampires' heads touched. “You…you think there's still hope for the girl, right?”
Spike looked at his grandsire, deep into the dark and dangerous waters of his eyes. “And you don't.”
“No, I don't, darling” Angelus whispered, stepping back. “You know me; I think hope doesn't exist.” He left, adding “And it's better if I'm right. Because if I am, Buffy won't interfere, but if I'm wrong…she will try to stop the ritual and…”
A muscle stiffened in Spike's jaw. “And we should kill her.”


The full moon shone. She saw it from the window's multicolored inlays on the nave's bottom and sometimes a spark of silver light reached her eyes. In the dark of the confessional, partly covered by a dusty white fabric, Buffy could clearly see the part of the altar in which the ritual would probably be performed.
She looked outside. Angelus was tickling Spike, who pushed him away, trying to repress a smile. More than companions, more than brothers…A sort of a strange family…No, they're beasts, Buffy repeated to herself, don't be distracted.
Angelus took off his shirt, showing her his large back with the tattoo in evidence like…like a target. Her hand held the crossbow near her hip: she could do it. Just one, precisely fired, and she would have dusted the Scourge. The surprise would have given her the time to prepare another arrow and send Spike to Hell too. Yeah…
She put the crossbow down. Oh, Buffy, who do you expect to believe that?
They know very well you're here. And you want them to know.

“You look like the Demoiselle of Shalott” Angelus whispered to Drusilla, who was waiting for him in the vicarage, lying down on a threadbare sofa. “Dressed in rich velvet clothes, loose hair…You would be perfect with some flowers in your hands…maybe lilies …”
She caressed his chest. “The Demoiselle of Shalott, yes, who lay down on the river's waters as a rose petal…The roses die too soon, don’t they, my angel?”
He nodded smiling, taking her in his arms. “You won't my love. You're just blossoming…”
“Blossoming…from the ground…” Drusilla whispered, holding to his neck. “As the first time…blossoming…”
“Yeah my darling, be quiet…” Angelus reassured her, exchanging affirmative glances with Spike, who stood at the door. “Everything ready?”
“Everything. We can start. You know…” Spike said “maybe little Buffy won't like the show…you'll scream.”
“Oh, well…” Angelus stated, grazing his lips on Drusilla's forehead. “I think she gets horny when I scream…”
When the two vampires came back, Buffy's senses got tense. Angelus held a girl with long dark hair and a heavy red velvet dress. So she was Drusilla…
Spike's girlfriend.
Engendered by the Scourge.
Despite herself she couldn't put down a pang of jealousy and disbelief. They both seemed so tender with her…they were helping her to sit down on the stairs in front of the altar and they held her as if she were a delicate and precious doll, something that could be broken with the slightest bump.
Angelus sat next to her, still holding her in his arms and cradling her softly; Spike arranged her skirt into its well made creases. Drusilla was looking at them; her wide and violet eyes were weak, and she was fed by their caresses. Buffy dug her nails into the wood.
She looked at those three creatures of the darkness and she saw something she couldn't understand. A deep bond she hadn't considered…Stop, stop, she reproached herself, you must be ready. You must be sober. Completely sober.
In the meantime Spike took a censer and he began to recite the ritual wording, in a loud and solemn voice, the game-face on. “Eligor, I invoke you, bringer of wars, poisoner, big obscenity…”
Soon the air in the church was filled by the acrid smell of the incense, and Buffy fought to not cough.
Spike was holding a seemingly turned golden cross. The Cross of Du Lac… “Eligor, lousy Lord of destruction, bring your black medicine…Come, and bring back to life your most impious and unmerciful daughter…”
Angelus raised his right hand and he took Drusilla's left one, linking his fingers to hers. Spike pulled a sharp knife from the cross. “From the blood of her sire she was born…” The blonde vamp came closer to the other two. “From the blood of the sire she will be born again”.
When the knife entered the two hands, an unnatural glow shone as if the sun was inside the building, and Buffy couldn't see anything for an instant. And then…the cry. Angelus's cry. A painful cry. Pure pain and perfect as ice.
Damn, Giles thought, with the bag full of weapons on his shoulder. There were more closed churches than he had presumed. And, just to make the situation a bit more complicated, that lousy wreck he insisted on calling a car, had let him down, definitely flooded. Damn, damn, damn…
He took a deep breath to calm down. If he remembered correctly, beyond that old building, just around the corner, there should be a small church, which had been closed for a few months…at that moment, a sudden bright light exploded across the neighborhood as a wave; Giles stopped, on the alert. Yes, that was the right church! That light meant that the ritual had just started and probably Buffy would have chosen that moment to attack. And he would have been there to help her!
He started to run and he arrived at the church in a couple of minutes. The glow had decreased but it kept shining weakly, and sometimes it lit the windows and the wide door of the building. Wait a minute…wide?
Giles looked around, clutching a stake. He expected to fight a lot of vampires who were on watch, but nobody was there. Only cars. Black, lavish and high-powered cars. He touched one of them: the engine was still hot. What…?
He had no time to assume anything. He was pushed violently and hit his head on the hood: he fell down deep in the dark almost immediately.


C'mon, c'mon Buffy, now or never.
But her legs refused to move, and her eyes could see only Angelus.
His head was bowed, his muscles were stiffened, his face was twisted in a mask of anguish. The veins of his and Drusilla's arms were swollen and black, and they moved, alive, throbbing, and they switched life from one to the other.
Spike and Giles told her that ritual wouldn't have constituted a danger for Angelus. Yeah, but Spike said a lot of things. And almost everything was false…and concerning Giles' books… they were not always right…
But how was it possible? How come the Scourge of Europe, the monster, the beast had assented to that torture?
You can't, bloody bastard, you can't die like that. You can't sacrifice yourself for your sick vampire.
Not before you plead for clemency at my feet…You can't…You can't…
Now, Buffy told herself, getting out of the confessional, now or never!
Spike started, turning back, with an amazed expression on his human face. But he wasn't looking at her; maybe he hadn't even noticed her…he was looking at the church entrance.
“Darla…” , he whispered.
Darla? Who was she?
Buffy also turned back, simultaneously stepping back into the confessional's shadow. In the entrance she could see ten or more vampires and Darla should be without any doubt the blonde one in front of everybody. Except for the feminine top she wore, which exalted her perfect womb, she was dressed exactly like Angelus: she had a leather jacket and leather trousers: her shoes had the same spurs as Angelus's…for some reason she didn't know, that curious similarity annoyed Buffy. Or rather - she understood observing her- everything about Darla was annoying her…
The vampire moved forward, pale, extremely beautiful, walking with studied, voluptuous elegance. Her blue eyes contemplated the helpless person of Angelus, lying down on Drusilla's womb.
“You can't listen to the elder's advice dear boy, can you? Especially if it’s good advice…”
“Darla!”, Spike enjoined. “Stay away from there. The ritual's almost done.”
She laughed. “Good, my snotnose! You've said …almost”. She signaled and all the vampires with her came rushing to the altar.
Spike roared, transforming, brandishing a huge candlestick. He noticed that only two of his companions were left to help him. All right then, it wouldn't be the first time he was a minority…but nobody could touch Dru.
Seven against three, Buffy thought…a thought which disappeared immediately. Her problem now was Darla. In the middle of the confusion, she had continued to walk slowly…and she aimed straight for Angelus. She saw her stop in front of him and pull out the knife of Du Lac without ceremony. Both Angelus and Drusilla fell down.
Darla bent down, the leather trousers sensually stretched on her hips. “Dear boy…why are you so stubborn, uh?”
He recognized her and a hint of a smile softened his mouth. “You've always loved me for that, haven’t you?”
She caught him by the neck throwing him on an aspersorium, which crumbled due to the impact. In a flash she was again over him, and she pushed the heel of her shoe on his throat. “Oh, what a pity…it was empty…I really wanted to see you burn a little bit…”.
Angelus shook his head. “C'mon…it's not your cup of tea to be so cliché…If you want to kill me do it now…it's your one and only chance….Kill me, because I'll never come back to your side…never.”
“Oh, you'll do that…” Darla hissed, pushing down harder with her heel. “Right now.”
“And who says that?”
Darla turned back hearing that voice, and Buffy hit her, throwing her against the first row of benches; then she tried to help Angelus but a lot of noise behind her stopped her. Darla was already rising, the game-face on, grotesque and bloody. “Faith!” she cried! “Where the fuck are you? The other Slayer’s here!”
Buffy's heart quickened. The other Slayer? What the hell…?
She couldn't formulate the question entirely. This time she was hit and thrown against the altar, and she had the impression her back broke into two halves. Shaking, she stood up and she was in front of her, striding towards her like an Amazon, between her and Angelus: she was a petite dark-haired girl, she wore tight jeans, a blood- red tank top and a tribal tattoo on her upper arm. She wasn't a vampire. But she was strong. Strong as a…
“Who are you?” she asked her, while she tried to breathe again.
The other winked at her. “You know who I am, B…but maybe, guess what, you don't understand…they told me you're not very clever…”
Buffy came down from the altar. From the corner of her eye she saw Darla attacking again. “Me? Yeah, well, that's true…I'm not so clever…”. She concentrated on her breath. Collect the power. She had to collect her power and convey it to the womb. To the core. To the origin.
“So I should know you? You're name's Faith, right?” Emotions, anger, fear, excitement.
Collect them Buffy, feel them.
The brunette nodded. “Right B. Rack your little brains…do you remember nine months ago?”
Buffy wasn't listening. In her mind there was only room for the first and only thing her instincts were telling her: take away Angelus.
Also she was amazed by her speed. With a flip she passed the distance between Faith and she staked an arrow in her foot, then she bent and hit Darla with a crossbow fire, hitting her on the shoulder. Then, with the adrenaline as a flame in her veins, she ran to Angelus, and lifted him up, putting her arm around his waist.
He didn't react; he only looked at her with his impenetrable eyes, in which she couldn't read anything but the effort to keep himself awake. Still holding him, Buffy turned back: Spike held Drusilla in his arms and he was trying to escape, getting around the other vampires engaged in the fight.
Their glances met for a moment, then Buffy and Angelus disappeared into the vicarage. Spike hesitated, but just for a moment…he always knew that when they made love and she told him she was his, he had known the Slayer would have been Angelus's property. She had become his at the precise instant his grandsire wanted her.
Bloody hell, congratulations then!
Faith pulled the arrow from her foot and anger blew up inside her together with the rush of blood that went out from the wound. Mad, she dusted every vampire she found near her stake, including the ones who came from Los Angeles with her, then she took an incense burner left on the ground and she threw it at Spike and Drusilla, hitting the head of the blonde vampire, who fell and smashed the huge wooden organ in the church corner. The resulting collapse of the structure engaged a lot of candlesticks and the fire blazed in seconds.
Darla reached Faith, pulling the broken arrow from her shoulder in one hand. “What a mess…” she mumbled. “A hole in my favorite jacket…where are they?”
“Down there” Faith answered satisfied, pointing at the burning ruins.
“Angelus and the Slayer?” damn, Darla didn't look happy at all.
“No, the blonde bloke and the foolish vamp…Don't know where your precious vampire has gone. The slutty slayer must have taken him away.”
The vampire relaxed. “She must enjoy him till she can…because mom's back and she wants her boy back…”

A/N: This is a translated and betaed story: bear it with us. Anyway, this is NOT a bangel story, this is NOT a spuffy story, but a bit of both. Follow us and see if you like what you read. Anyway, Spike and Buffy are always central front. And, please, review;))

5. Beauty and the beasts.

“You’ll never know evil just by fucking him.”
Buffy turned back suddenly, her face half guilty and half bored. Who the bloody hell was Spike to give her moral teachings? Damn, she was the Slayer!
“Leave me alone,” she hissed, turning away from him.
Spike grabbed her arm. “Hey, no, not so fast. You’re not respecting our deal. I brought you Angelus because I wanted him dead…not because I wanted him in your bed at the speed of light. You can’t say you had a bad teacher.”
She looked at him, arms crossed. “You talk about deals? Angelus already knew everything about me, and he knew I was waiting for him. He even knew about what…what happened between us. Am I wrong to think you set me up?”
“You’re free,” Spike whispered, letting her go. “Look at me, I’m not even holding you. Tell me why you did it. I understand Xander, and the need to train …but I don’t think you really understand who Angelus is and what kind of danger you’re facing. You’ll not survive to tell it, Slayer. Not you, nor your immortal soul.”
“I…I don’t…”
“Don’t try to lie,” he smiled. “I smell it, I feel it instinctively. I feel it with my whole self…even with my demon, that excites you so much when we make love. Yeah, we make love. With Angelus it’s just sex…and it’s not even that good.”
“What do you know about it?” she provoked him, raising her head.
“More than I want to,” he answered immediately, lighting a cigarette. “He’ll use you in any way he likes…he’ll use your womb, your blood, your spirit and your strength. And when he’s done, there won’t be anything left of you. And you’ll still implore him to give you more.”
“It sounds exciting,” she replied.
“You’re a silly little girl,” the vampire answered. “And I’m sillier than you. I thought you were different. I bet you went looking for him. Sexually I mean…”
Buffy blushed. If only Spike knew how close he was to the real truth…
“Well, this isn’t a surprise. Not at all. Between us, I am the slayer of the Slayers…he just twists the spirits and the bodies of all the people around him. And you’re no exception.” Spike threw the fag-end on the ground, and started to walk away.
“And your girlfriend? How does she feel?” she asked him suddenly.
“Worse and worse. The ritual will take place in three days.”
“You haven’t kept your promise, Spike, and I won’t keep mine. I forbid you to perform the ritual…at all costs.”
He blew smoke into her face. “I’d like to see you try that, Slayer. I really would.”
She put her hand on the stake she kept on her belt. Confused, she asked herself what had happened to transform her lover into an enemy in so few days.
Angelus.
Her body, still inflamed by his caresses, which were tortures too, was leading her to complete loneliness: no, she told herself, I’m strong. Everything’s all right, everything’s all right.
A couple was approaching from the other side of the cemetery. Buffy snorted when she realized it was Xander and Cordelia.
“Your friend has consoled himself quickly,” Spike noticed, smiling. “I wonder if her performance is as good as yours”.
Buffy looked at him, asking herself why she hadn’t already dusted him…maybe it was the memory - still not totally clouded by Angelus’ disruptive presence - of the passion she knew in his arms.
That she had now completely experienced in the arms of another vampire.
“You two together again! Yahoo!” said Xander, pretending enthusiasm. “So, it was a serious affair.”
“As much as yours with Cordelia,” Buffy replied in the same tone.
“Hi Hottie McHot,” Cordy greeted Spike. “So, you’re Buffy’s new boyfriend? Do you find her obsession for saving the world from monsters and vampires attractive?”
“Something like that…” Spike admitted, appreciating with a smile Cordelia’s dark beauty. “I didn’t know she had such…nice friends.”
“We’re not her friends,” Cordelia reassured him.
“No, we’re not her friends anymore,” Xander repeated, watching Buffy, searching for the smallest clue why she, his Buffy, had changed so much. She didn’t seem happy with this weird platinum-blonde guy. She didn’t seem happy at all.
He had loved her, he really had. So why had she broken up with him?
“Let’s go. Harm’s waiting,” Cordy answered. “And we still have to discuss the new cheerleaders’ uniforms.”
Spike and Buffy watched them walk away.
“Why did you make them believe we’re together?” asked Buffy.
“Because it lets your friend rest easy…don’t you see that? He still loves you, and if he’s with that girl, it’s only for revenge. And she is worth more than that. She has a good sense of humour.”
“And why do you care about that?”
“I don’t, really.” Spike continued on his way, but then he turned back; he couldn’t resist the temptation of getting the last word.
“He will destroy you, Buffy. I’m telling you the truth. And that makes me sad. Bloody hell, it makes me really sad. I thought that…”
But Buffy wasn’t listening. She sat on a tombstone, staring at nothing. And he was already out of her life.
Or at least he believed that.



Spike lit up another cigarette and followed Xander and Cordelia. Her words had made him curious.
Angelus had already told him that Buffy had looked for him and seduced him - if it was possible to talk about seduction with a demon like the dark-haired vampire - and for him it hadn’t been a surprise at all.
When they had planned to weaken the Slayer’s defenses, and conquer the dominion on the Hellmouth, they both took for granted that they would get the most benefit they could from the circumstances. Nothing is sweeter than a Slayer’s blood…except her pleasure.
“You’re the same old stupid Spike,” he told himself, while he was settling himself opposite the Bronze back entrance, observing the two humans talking with a pretty blonde girl.
Pretty and blonde like Buffy.
But not so intense.
Her flame has burned me, Spike told himself, with no fear of facing the reality. He knew it was a typical teenage expression: “to carry a torch for someone” meant to fall in love with someone, and he didn’t like that analogy at all. But it was the truth: he was carrying a torch for Buffy, and the fire was burning him.
It wasn’t the first time Angelus had taken something or someone away from him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Since William, newly born as a vampire, had discovered that Angelus and Dru were lovers, a lot of blood had flowed under the bridge. But nothing had really changed. Spike had always been the little brother, the one who always made mistakes, the one who always came second. And that applied to who they bedded, too.
But not this time. This time he had been first, she had been his…and she would be his again. He just had to be patient.
Patience is not my strong point, he told himself smiling, looking at Xander and Cordelia walking away, and the pretty blonde girl who was pulling up her stay-ups.
“Have you got a light?”


Buffy didn’t want to go home. Home was Revello Drive. Revello Drive was too close to…him.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him. After Spike’s words she was even more on fire. She knew the risks of approaching too close to that dark fire…but she was the Slayer. She was strong and righteous. She could do that.
That night she had knocked Spike down, and soon she would have done the same to Angelus. And then she would be free from both of them. Freed by a stake.
Almost without realizing, she was in front of Willow’s house. Willow’s parents were inside; she could hear their voices from the garden. She went around the back of the building and knocked at the window of her friend’s bedroom.
Willow was alone and - surprise surprise! - she was studying.
“Buffy! I wasn’t expecting you…but come in, please.”
Buffy entered, playing with her stake. Distracted, she noticed that the object had a phallic shape: couldn’t she think about anything else?
“Are you busy? I can go, we’ll see each other tomorrow and… ” Suddenly, Buffy thought that coming to see Willow had been a bad idea.
“No, no…stay. To be honest, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a couple of days …alone. Buffy, I’m a bit concerned about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Buffy reassured her, nervously wandering around the room and watching the little goldfish swimming in the small aquarium. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Willow insisted. “You don’t look fine at all…ever since you broke up with Xander. It’s hard to believe, but it seems like you’re worse than he is.”
“We met tonight,” Buffy admitted. “It was weird. Cordelia and him…they were OK together. I’d never have believed it if someone had told me that a couple of weeks ago. Everything happened so fast…”
“You’re talking about your new guy? His name’s William, isn’t it?”
“Willow, we’re not together, I’ve told you. It was just a flirtation.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you,” Willow insisted, her expression resolute. “You’re not the kind of girl who flirts with total strangers during the night. Not you. I’ll never believe it.”
“Xander saw us together,” Buffy insisted. “Willow, people change, grow up. And make mistakes. Don’t idealize me. If you only knew what I…”
“C’mon then, talk to me!” Willow insisted. “I thought I was your best friend…don’t shut me out from your life.”
Buffy sighed. “He was with me tonight. William, I mean. We’re not lovers any more, and we were arguing…then Xander and Cordelia arrived, and he pretended to be my guy. I don’t know why, maybe to make me crazy. But the problem is not him. The problem is me.”
“Why?!” Willow said.
“Because there’s someone else. Another man, you could say.”
Willow looked at her with an astonishment which seemed comic to Buffy. She wanted to laugh, but she didn’t want to offend Willow.
“You left Xander for that William…and already you’re with a third guy?”
“Slutty the Vampire Slayer!” Buffy was ironical despite herself. “You see I can be even worse than you believed.”
Willow approached Buffy, who was sitting on the bed, and caressed her cheek.
“As far as I’m concerned you can sleep with the entire Sunnydale football team, and you’ll still always be my Buffy.”
“I know,” Buffy whispered. “But maybe it’s not the same for me.”
“What’s the other one like?”
Buffy made a strange sound. “Dangerous. Very. And charming…and I can’t stop thinking about him” Without realizing it, she was using the same words she had used to describe Spike. Charm and danger…that was what her dark princes had in common. Her two vampire lovers. In every other way, they were so different…
“You two…I mean…”
“Have we made love?” Buffy smiled ruefully. “Yeah, if you can call it love. We’ve certainly had sex. Willow, are you shocked?”
“Yes!” Willow admitted. “No! I mean, I don’t know…are you happy?”
“Do I look like I am?”
Willow shook her head. “Maybe you should take a bit of time for yourself. Don’t see any of them. Not Xander, or William, or this new guy. Don’t you think?”
Buffy took Willow by her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks, Willow…You don’t know how important your friendship is to me. I know I’ve disappointed you…but perhaps being a Slayer makes me also a bit of a slut.”
“You don’t have to apologize at all. I love you for what you are. And you’re extraordinary, Buffy.”
Buffy smiled, and went off into the night.
She would keep her promises, now that she knew that at least Willow believed in her.
She was sure about that.
The light was on at number 1628 in Revello Drive. Instinctively, Buffy looked up at the window. Angelus wasn’t alone. She could hear whispered voices from up there.
Forgetting wisdom and common sense, the girl climbed up the trellis. Despite the acute hearing of the vamp, she didn’t think he was aware of her, because she could hear his low, sexy laugh coming through the window. Buffy’s blood ran cold and fast through her veins.
A couple of centimetres to the left and, thanks to the thick tree that stood right in front of the window, she could enjoy the show.
Save the possible innocent, said the voice of Right.
But there were no more innocents. The entire world around her had suddenly become grey.
There was a shape on the bed. Long, thin, white legs in the soft candle-light. A woman’s legs. Naked legs.
The heart in Buffy’s chest seemed to stop beating.
The delicately shaped head, with shining white hair, was Spike’s. He was naked too, except for a pair of worn black Levi’s, the buttons undone. He was wearing his game-face, and he was slowly and sensually drinking his victim’s blood. His mouth was on the girl’s neck, and her closed eyes and open mouth made her look as if she was in ecstasy instead of pain. Buffy’s lips parted instinctively.
Spike and the girl were not alone.
Kneeling on the bed next to her, Angelus’ head was between her legs. After a long, everlasting instant, Angelus looked up, and Buffy could see his long teeth, dark with blood. There was more blood on the sheets, and on the white legs of the girl, who continued to resist weakly, prey to both the vampires and to the intoxication their bites had aroused in her.
For a second Buffy had the impression that Angelus was looking straight at her. She hid in the shadow of the leaves, trembling. For the sake of her mental health, she preferred not to ask herself what she was afraid of.
They looked like beasts.
They were beasts.
It wasn’t the first time Buffy had seen a vampire feed…but it had never been like this. Never.
That was not just feeding…that was pain, death, sex, torture. Together, indivisible. And something inside her, maybe the Slayer, woke up at that sight.
Kill.
Destroy.
Fuck.
Her underwear became wet, and she lost control of herself when she recognized the girl.
It was Harmony, Cordelia’s friend..
Soon, she would be no more.
“No need to watch the show from so far away, girleen…I bet that balcony is so uncomfortable,” said Angelus, looking her with his yellow demon eyes…his golden eyes…showing his teeth even more. “I can smell the scent of your pleasure from here, Slayer…do you wanna give a bit of it to us?”
“Yeah, why not?” Spike added, gently shaking his head and assuming his good-looking human features. A glance dark as hell and an ironical smile were all that was needed to make Buffy’s knees tremble.
“There’s nothing left to do in here. You can see it’s not so interesting…some sex, some blood…but nothing I would keep for more than one night.”
Harmony’s heartbeat slowed. Softly, Spike lay her head on the pillow. It looked as if she was sleeping.
It’s too late, Buffy told herself. It had already been too late when she saw the two vampires eat her alive.
There was only one thing to do.
Only one thing to feel human again. Despite everything.
“I must kill you both,” she said. “Maybe not now…not tonight. But I’ll do it. Even if I lose my life…or my soul.”
She could hear the sound of the two vampires laughing even from the street.
In her anxiety to get away, she didn’t notice Spike’s worried and passionate glance, or Angelus’ sarcastic and unmerciful one.
Literally, she had no more ground under her feet.


“Giles, I need to talk to you. Please…” Buffy moaned, her face against the little wooden door of the watcher’s modest house. She didn’t want to go home during that endless night, lie in her immaculate bed. Pretending was not an option any more.
Darkness was her world, and everything was becoming so dark…
But Giles wasn’t there. Damn, he must be out with Miss Calendar.
I’ll never have the courage to do it, Buffy told herself. If I don’t talk to him now, I’ll never have the courage, and I’ll go down deep into the dark…
At that moment she heard the asthmatic engine of the old Citroen. Buffy raised her head: something in her face probably showed her shock, because both Jenny and Rupert hurried up.
“Buffy!” they said simultaneously, picking her up. “Are you hurt?” Giles inquired.
“No…but I need to talk to you…alone.”
“No problem - I was just about to go home,” Miss Calendar said quietly. She smiled to Giles: she hadn’t intended to end the evening like that, but she understood that the watcher’s duties came first.
“I’m sorry, I’ve wrecked your evening,” Buffy whispered, while Rupert was leading her towards his little lounge and making some tea.
“Don’t worry. Does your mother know you’re out?”
She shook her head. “Would it make a difference?”
“I don’t think so,” Giles admitted. “There’s none so blind as those who don’t want to see.”
“Precisely. But I can’t stand this deception any more. My life’s not been… normal…for a long time…and now less than ever before.”
“What’s up, Buffy? Talk to me…”
“Angelus is here. Spike told me,” Buffy lied. “And the ritual will take place in three days…I still don’t know all the details, but I think we must discover where it will take place and stop it…and kill them. Kill all three.”
“And your deal with Spike?” inquired Giles.
“I don’t think he respected it. I think he was in league with Angelus…and besides that, is it or is it not my duty to wipe out both of them?”
“But there will be two of them…three if we count Spike’s girlfriend, even if she is weak…and it’s possible there will be other vampires, their followers. And we already know that Angelus and Spike aren’t ordinary vampires. Could you, your friends and I face and defeat them? Or would it be a suicidal trap?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Buffy said, her eyes shining. “I‘ll go. They’re beasts, and I’ll kill them.”
“I can’t allow you to do that.”
“I’ll do it, and you know that,” Buffy insisted. “I’m the Slayer…and I alone. At the end of the night, before the dawn comes, I’m always alone.”
“Buffy, be reasonable. You can’t win alone. We can wait…and see how events develop.”
“If the ritual takes place, Spike’s girlfriend will be healed…and she will be another obstacle. She is also an ancient and powerful vampire.”
“That’s true, but I don’t think that...”
“Don’t you understand?” Buffy stood up, nearly shouting. “Whether I live or die, my destiny is to fight them! There’s no reason to discuss it…I need you to do your research, Giles. Find out what this ritual consists of, and how I can stop it. I’ll try to discover where and when it will take place, then we’ll act. I’ll go alone, but Miss Calendar, you and Willow will support me from the outside. That’s it.”
“And Xander?” Giles asked.
“Don’t you know yet?” Buffy laughed bitterly. “Strange, because we’re the school joke. Xander left me for Cordelia.”
“And do you think they won’t help us, if we ask them for help?” Giles asked her, disinterested.
“Maybe if you try.”
Buffy picked up her things and left. When she arrived she had been desperate, she had wanted to confess everything…that she was the sexual plaything of both vampires. The realisation that they were real, evil demons had forced her to admit what she had become, and that it was destroying her.
But there wasn’t an easy way to explain that to Giles. She was aware that while she was here, there were no ways at all. There was no way to tell him that a part of her - the part in the shadow, maybe the strongest and the most detestable part of what Buffy Summers was made of - had wanted to be there that night, in that filthy and bloody bed, between the two vampires, letting that blood, pain and pleasure start to flow.
No, really, she couldn’t explain it to him.
She could only let him help her to do the right thing. And the right thing was, of course, to kill them.
No mercy. Before she went further down into the void…
Even if she could lose her heart.
As she was leaving her watcher, she already knew how to finish that endless, dreadful evening.
It was time to talk to Willy, the nark.

7. Sleep tight



The bed groaned under his weight.
Halfway back he had slipped into unconsciousness, and the only thing she could think of was to bring him to her home. And here he was. Right here in her bedroom. But she couldn’t have left him, wounded and unconscious, in his house alone…
Really? Are you sure?
I’m the Slayer and he’s the Scourge of Europe. Here he is, lifeless, his naked, helpless chest so exposed to my stake. Just one moment, and then all I would need to do is put my dusty sheets into the washing machine…I could defeat the one that even the other vampires only dare to attack when he’s weakened…and with no struggle at all I could erase him from the face of the earth…
Buffy looked at Angelus. No, damn, it didn’t work like that…he looked like he was asleep. But he wasn’t. And she had saved him.
She took the first-aid kit and, sitting on the bed, she began to tend to his wounded hand. Oh, she knew very well what he was. And that was the problem. He was the Scourge. He couldn’t die until he realised that: not kneeling on the floor of a church, helpless. Not in a bed, unconscious. Not the Scourge.
She bandaged his hand, and then approached his face. You’re the disease and I’m the cure, she thought, looking at his parted mouth and the long eyelashes, outlined by the cold moonlight; if you are to die, it must be looking into my eyes, while you’re fighting with me…
Yes, that’s the reason why I saved you. It’s because of that.
She touched him on the chest, over the heart, softly moving her fingers across it. Nothing. No heartbeat at all. Complete silence. Of course. She put her cheek on that cold and motionless chest, holding him tight.
Who were you when your dead heart was beating? Your real name was Liam. And you used to dream and be frightened, just like me…
Buffy realized she was tired and she surrendered, forgetting the unanswered questions in her mind…
Is that your darkness, Angelus? The darkness I had to embrace and taste in order to know and fight it? Is that it, or not?
The slayer fell asleep, her lips on the vampire’s heart.

Right. This was the right place. A crypt. Grandma was really angry, and it wasn’t a good idea to go back to the old factory. Not without their daddy to protect them. He wasn’t with them at this moment, but he would be back soon. Drusilla knew that. She knew he couldn’t be too far away from them. He never was.
She put Spike down on the lid of a nearby sarcophagus. Half of his face was burnt and something was wrong with his bones…she had heard them crack. She caressed his white-gold hair.
Poor child…grandma had been so naughty. Her angel would be very angry…Drusilla laughed and her giggle echoed in the crypt, like the tinkle of little bells. She liked that sound and she laughed again. Oh, she felt good at last…so good. And everything had been so easy…to escape from the ruins, from the fire, to nurse her wounded knight…and she was strong again. As she had been before Prague, maybe even stronger!
She looked at Spike, lying unconscious like a puppet with no strings, like her dolls…poor, poor child…she held his head against her breast, whispering a lullaby. He would get better too. She would take care of him. As she sang, she made a little cut between her breasts and lifted her king’s mouth to it. Immediately his mouth became stained with her dark blood, and after a while she felt him suckle on it weakly, unaware but resolute.
Yes…yes…like that, my king of hearts, drink from your black goblet, drink the nectar coming from the killing angel…Yes, Drusilla thought, cradling him, drink and sleep…drink and sleep…

Knocks. Deep. Precise. Rhythmic. Excited.
A heart that beats. With emotion…A heart…
Buffy suddenly awoke, startled, and instinctively glanced at the chest on which she had fallen asleep, searching for a sign of the heartbeat she had dreamed of. But, obviously, she would never find it there…there had been only silence in his chest, for more than two hundred years…
It took her only a few seconds to wake up completely, and to understand that the knocking of her dream was real. It came from the ground floor. Someone was knocking violently on the door…
She leaned carefully over the window-sill. Outside it was getting light, and in her garden she could see…Giles! What was Giles doing there?!
She turned back to watch Angelus. His position was the same as it had been some hours earlier, but he looked more relaxed. And he was so damn handsome…
She closed the shutters, panic-stricken. What did Giles want? Maybe he had discovered that…?
Quiet. Go down, let him in, and keep quiet. Easier said than done.
When she opened the door and saw the watcher’s shocked face, she was struck dumb with amazement. He was really pale, sweating, he had lost the glasses from which he was normally inseparable, and his left temple and forehead were badly bruised. “What…what happened to you?”
“What…? What happened to you?!” Giles shrieked. He fell silent, looking worried. “Oh gosh…your mother! I must have woken her…I…”
“No”, Buffy reassured him, inviting him inside with a gesture of her head. “The art gallery is going amazingly well, and she’s had to go back to LA again. She didn’t want to, but I convinced her, knowing what…was supposed to happen…last night…”
“Yes, and speaking of last night, Buffy - where were you? Why didn’t you call me?” Giles attacked her. “Can you imagine what I thought when I saw the church in ruins?”
Buffy’s head was spinning. She looked at him, her green eyes confused. “The church in ruins…What…?” And finally she understood. “You were there? You…”
Oh God, had he seen her while she was saving Angelus?
“I was looking for you…but someone hit me over the head before I could go inside the church…”he mumbled, pointing at his damaged face. “And when I woke up, the firemen were putting out the fire”.
“The fire?”
“The church has burnt down, Buffy. And you…” Giles couldn’t hold back his emotion. “I didn’t know if you…”
A fire. Spike…had he escaped in time?
“I was afraid that…” he insisted, worried by her distant expression.
Buffy was shocked. “Oh my God, Giles! I’m so stupid! I hadn’t even thought about…”
I hadn’t thought about you, Giles, I’m sorry. I was thinking about someone else.
She took his hands. “It’s because…because nothing went the way it was supposed to. Nothing.”
Giles calmed down. She was clearly shocked. “What happened? Tell me everything.”
Everything. Mhm…maybe it would be better to leave out some things.
“The ritual had begun, and I was just about to show myself, when suddenly a group of vampires came into the church, led by one they called Darla,” Buffy explained, sitting down on the first step of the stairs.
“Darla…It’s a familiar name…”
“Angelus and Spike knew her...anyway, there were too many of them, Giles. Even for me.”
He nodded. “Of course. So you retreated. You made the expedient choice, and the right one too.”
“I tried…to get away, I mean,” Buffy whispered, as a brief stab of pain in her back left her breathless.
Giles knelt down next to her. “Are you wounded?”
“Just a bit bruised…I was fighting against someone who was really strong. And she wasn’t a vampire. Giles, I think she was a slayer.”
“What?!”
“Her name was Faith. She knew about me. And she mentioned something that had happened nine months ago…nine months ago, do you understand, Giles?”
“Nine months ago you died. Only for a few minutes. But it was enough.” Giles shook his head, incredulous.
“A new slayer…” He gripped the banister, frowning. “But I don’t understand why the Council hasn’t told me anything about her. And her Watcher? He should have informed me immediately….”
Buffy stood up, looking serious. “And why was Faith with Darla?”
Giles blinked his eyes. “Pardon?”
“I told you, we fought. Faith was with Darla, trust me.”
“My God…a slayer who fights on the side of the vampires…that’s abhorrent…” Resolute, Giles headed for the door. “I must speak with the Council as a matter of urgency. If there’s a rebel slayer, she could be more dangerous than Angelus or Spike…” he stopped, his hand on the doorknob. “Regarding the ritual…did they perform it or not?”
“I don’t know…”Buffy sighed. “I left as soon as I could …”
He smiled at her sympathetically. “And you did the right thing, don’t worry. Being a slayer doesn’t mean taking irresponsible decisions. You assessed the enemy’s forces and you thought it was better to retreat. A mature and wise decision.” His smile became wider, full of affection. “Stay at home today. Relax. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
Buffy reacted mechanically, seeing him out, repeating her apologies, double-locking the door…and then she ran upstairs as fast as she could, into the bathroom, and vomited.
Abhorrent. Giles had said that - talking about Faith, not knowing that it was also the most appropriate definition for her…abhorrent…her face still covered in dirt, her back aching unbearably, she collapsed in a heap next to the toilet and began to cry.


The birds were singing. Bloody hell, yes, he could hear some fucking birds twittering…Where the hell was he? In the vampire’s circle?
Spike slowly levered himself up on one elbow. He could only open one eye, and all he could see were old stones and rusty iron candlesticks. And red candles. And…Oh, yes! And Drusilla!
She noticed he was awake and went over to him. Her velvet dress swished around her. “Darling…”
Spike abandoned himself to her perfumed embrace, and his hands lost themselves in touching her, feeling her alive and real again, no longer feeble and fragile, like a dream ready to disappear.
“The ritual worked…”
“Yes…Oh, yes…”Drusilla whispered, nibbling his ear. “And you, my darling, how do you feel?”
Spike swallowed. He didn’t feel too good. No. Damn. “I think…I can’t feel my legs…”
From her throat came a low and sensual sound, like the purr of a cat. She slid up the sarcophagus towards him. “Soon you’ll be feeling much better…” She slipped a hand inside his jeans. “Can you feel that?”
“Yeah, I can feel it…” Spike whispered, and he took her porcelain face in his hands, asking for a kiss.
That’s good…yes, he thought, playing with her lips and her tongue, that’s the taste I know so well, that’s my black goddess’s delicious mouth…the other one…the other one never had such a taste…
“I missed you, kitten…the nights were so cold without you…”
Drusilla unzipped his jeans, and the tips of her long black curls trailed across his taut belly.
“My poor baby…Now I’ll give you nights so hot that you’ll burn…”


“More?” Buffy asked, trying to avoid looking at the empty trays of blood on the carpet. On her carpet.
Angelus stretched his limbs, crossing his arms behind his head. The bed seemed too small for him. “Let me explode one of your myths, Buffy…vampires aren’t mosquitoes. We don’t gulp food till we look like balloons…” He sighed, satisfied. “Really. I’m full. Had more than enough blood.”
Her gaze lingered a little too long on his pectorals. “I thought you were weak…”
“I was…” he confirmed. “Why do you stay over there, on the other side of the room? I won’t be able to thank you as I should, if you don’t come closer.”
“Thank me?”
“Sure. Usually it’s normal to say thank you to the people who help you…” noticing her worried expression, Angelus laughed. “May God strike me dead! What an unforgivable sin this little child has committed…she saved the bogeyman…”
Buffy clenched her teeth. She didn’t want to talk about that. Not now. Not with him. Better change the subject. “Who was that girl?”
“Uh…which girl?”
“That girl…the blonde one.”
“Ah…Darla…” Angelus laid on his side. “She’s my sire.”
“So, the one who made you…” Buffy whispered. “Oh.” This new information didn’t endear Darla to her. At all. “Last night. She was angry with you.”
“Angry…that’s a polite way to describe it. And also inadequate and restrictive. Darla doesn’t get angry…she tortures you, or she kills you. Or both. And often not in that order.” The vampire stifled a yawn, plumped up the pillow and wrapped his arms around it, lying back contentedly.
“But there must be a reason why she’s so angry with you…”
“Sure, but that’s a personal affair, my dear child, if you don’t mind.”
“Personal?” Buffy said, coming a step closer. “I shot her with an arrow. I think I’m a little bit involved…”
“You can’t possibly understand…” he replied. “As you didn’t understand the ritual.” He raised his head, looking her with his impenetrable glance. “You couldn’t understand the reason why I had to suffer all that pain.”
“You looked as if you were dying…”
“There was a remote chance, yes…It was vital for Spike to stop the flow just in time”.
Buffy frowned. “And what if Spike hadn’t done that? If Darla hadn’t come, and Spike hadn’t stopped the flow? Do you trust him that much?”
“Trust Spike?” Angelus’ eyes widened. “Hell will freeze over before I do that! I’ve never trusted him. Not him, nor myself.” He smiled at her. “Do you see? You really don’t understand…”
“You’re damn right I don’t. But maybe if you can explain it to me…”
“Explain what? A race that is different from yours?” He shook his head, skeptical, and stretched lazily, rubbing against the sheets like a beautiful big cat. “The relationships between vampires are complicated and inaccessible for humans. We love in our own way”.
Buffy had edged right up to the bed without even realizing it. “You’re saying that you love Spike and Drusilla?”
“I’m saying what I’ve said,” he answered cryptically. Then he noticed how she was suffering. “Your back…a powerful girl, that other slayer. She nearly broke it, didn’t she?”
“As if you care…” She didn’t like that pliant tone at all. She tried to get away, but Angelus took her wrist.
“And that’s easier for you?”
“What?”
“Thinking I don’t care.” His eyes were two lakes of sweet, soft darkness, and she wanted so badly to fall in…not to think, to forget…how strong the power of this demon must be, that he could seem so sweet and so dreadful at the same time…
Oh my God. I saved him. I saved that monster. And I didn’t do that in order to kill him.
Her pain slipped away like water. She lay on the bed, her body covering the vampire’s; she nibbled his lips, opened and tasted his mouth, she caressed his hips, his back, his buttocks…she wanted him close…as close as he could get, and closer still….
“Do you want to thank me?” she gasped, her lips on his. “Well, pretend that you do care”

8. Bad Girls.


“Ladies…ladies, I’m not disappointed in you. I’m just worried…have you been harmed in any way? Faith, my dear, that’s a really bad injury…you should disinfect it as soon as possible. You don’t know how much damage can be provoked by germs. Darla, my darling…let me tell you that, although you may be bleeding, you’re still glowing.”
Faith and Darla sat on the big leather armchairs. “Candy?” offered their guest, quietly seated on the other side of the desk. The American flag was well displayed on its pedestal, next to his bureau, mini-golf, and the trophies he had won in the 4th of July softball tournaments.
Faith took a bonbon, shyly, and then relaxed back into the armchair. She kept her wounded foot propped up on her knee. Darla, however refused the offer and continued to look at the man with a soft smile on her beautiful dead lips.
“Seventy years since last time we met…and you look exactly the same, Mayor Wilkins. You’re still serving the community, I take it?”
“Within my modest means,” he evaded. “I believe that we should preserve the common good.”
“And our own strength,” Darla suggested.
“Strength increases together with wisdom.” Wilkins joined his hands and looked at them. “Darla, you’re an example of self control. On the contrary, Faith…my dear child!” he scolded her with tenderness. “I warned you not to play with the slayer…not yet…if you could avoid it. She’s ugly and vicious.”
Faith mumbled. “I’m the slayer.”
Wilkins smiled, saying nothing.
“I’m the slayer,” Faith repeated. “She died. And it was up to me…and I slew.”
“Until Kakistos killed your watcher and raped her corpse.” Darla yawned. “And I found you wandering in the back streets of Boston, with misery running through your veins like crack, and the crazy desire to fix somebody’s wagon…”
“I’m so grateful for what you have done for my Faith, Darla,” the mayor said. “You took her from the street. You gave her a home. You gave her weapons. And then you brought her to me.”
“Yes…”Darla whispered. “You know what they say? If you don’t want to be shot, it’s better if you don’t show your gun. Giving a crossbow, a knife and a stake to Faith was one of my wisest choices…particularly if we consider how well she used them…against my enemies. And yours.”
“Although…” the Mayor said, in his most professional tone. “Tonight Faith’s training and… motivations weren’t enough…and I regret that. The mission, despite the remarkable empowerment work, wasn’t totally completed. Spike and Angelus are still in Sunnydale…still alive.”
“Spike should be dust. Miss Search-and-destroy, here, has buried him under an organ,” Darla stated quietly.
“My report tells me otherwise,” smiled Wilkins, taking out a carbon copy. “According to my sources, Drusilla and he are in an old crypt…a place which is difficult to defend, in my humble opinion. And full of toxins, I would guess. Absolutely unsuitable.”
“They’re dead, boss” Faith objected.
“Hygiene is always important,” he answered.
“It’s not a problem. Spike is weak and Dru is crazy. We’ll defeat them.”
“And Angelus?” Wilkins asked. “Oh, that development was quite unexpected. Angelus was saved by…the slayer. Sorry Faith, by the reigning slayer. Heh heh…I always forget there are two of you…”
“We’ll take care of Angelus,” Darla promised. “I’ll do it myself…you look after that wet blonde.”
“It will be a pleasure,” Faith mumbled, clutching with nervous and clumsy fingers at her hurriedly bandaged foot.
“Ladies, the journey from Los Angeles has been long, and you must be tired. I’m sure you will benefit from Sunnydale’s hospitality…we have a large apartment prepared in a residence just out of town, reserved for precisely this type of…particular need.”
“At the taxpayer’s expense?” Darla asked.
“But of course. Throughout the term…the terms of my office, we have never shown any imbalance in the accounts. I’m really proud of that.”
“I have my own financial backing, Mr. Mayor…I’m sure you know that.”
“I know, my dear…a certain Los Angeles legal firm…but - and I’m just asking you this out of curiosity - what does Wolfram and Hart expect from you in return?”
Darla smiled. “Angelus. And Spike. They came here to lord it over everybody, to conquer the Hellmouth…now that the Master has been defeated. I don’t think your citizens will confirm you in office again if the massacre begins…a few deaths…mysterious losses…these things can be easily hidden from your police. But this time we’re talking about the Scourge of Europe and his disreputable companions.”
“My dear, you have summed up my motivations perfectly, but you still haven’t answered my question,” the mayor replied coldly. The way his cordial face could become stern was amazing…and admirable.
With seriously discomforting effect.
“Do you believe in prophecies, Mr. Mayor?”
“Sometimes they’re useful…like tax allowances. And just as treacherous.”
“There’s one which concerns a vampire with a soul. Who could save…or destroy…the world. Wolfram and Hart’s politics takes care of those…ahem…variables.”
“Neither of the two vampires you mentioned has a soul,” stated Wilkins, with a pleasant smile.
“For the moment. The legal firm’s oracles think that Angelus…or Spike…or both of them have a possibility…let me find the right word…a karmic possibility…of gaining their soul back. This could never happen…or it could happen tomorrow. We’re talking about immortal creatures. And about dimensional planes which tend to intersect each other…”
“Not exactly. A well targeted stake could solve all Wolfram and Hart’s problems.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe they don’t dare to risk it. Maybe they rely on Angelus and Spike …who knows what kind of goals they have? For the moment they want me to stop their plan of turning this town into hell… more than it is already, of course.”
“Tell me the real reason why you’re doing this, Darla,” asked the Mayor. “Obviously this satisfies my objectives completely - considering also my imminent Ascension - but you have never worked for someone else. You’ve always been better than that. Independent. Master of yourself and of the world. A perfect terror sower.”
“I’ve my reasons,” Darla replied shortly, and she stood up. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Mayor. We must wash and feed ourselves. We’ll talk later about our plans.”
Faith stood up too. She had listened to their conversation with complete indifference. She was tired, aching, restless.
And excited.
“Where can you have fun in this lousy city?”




Buffy enjoyed the silence while she finished dressing. She needed it to soothe her restless soul. Her mom hadn’t yet returned. Sometimes, it seemed so easy for Joyce to put her job before her daughter. She wasn’t doing it because she was cruel, or selfish, as her father was. She was doing it because life- during the 90s - demanded a lot of a single woman with a teenage daughter.
The girl looked back one more time at her unmade bed, where only a few minutes before she had slept on the Scourge of Europe’s chest. Angelus had kissed her, filled her head with mysterious whispers. And she had closed her eyes.
Closed her eyes. Only that moment was important. She couldn’t open her eyes and see the truth.
That was a luxury she could not afford.
And then, as if nothing had happened, Angelus had stood up, put on what remained of his clothes, and left. He had looked at her distantly and brushed her lips with a kiss.
And then she was alone.
Alone.
She was lying to her mother, she was lying to Giles, she was lying to her friends. She had only…herself.
And a truth she still couldn’t stand.
The night before, she had received two painful blows to her view of the world and to her self-esteem: she had almost sacrificed her life for Angelus, and she was no more the reigning slayer, the “chosen one”.
Faith.
Fighting on the side of evil. If she could define as “evil” the ones who had tried to kill three dangerous vampires.
And who was on her side? Who was protecting good…if everything around her was dark?
Buffy faced the mirror in the bathroom and fastened a silver cross around her neck. She hadn’t worn it since the day she first made love with Spike. She knew how they burned the delicate vampire skin…
That night it would be enough to protect her. It had to be enough.



The lights were low at the Bronze. The club was a lair, and of the worst kind. It was a place in which monsters and vampires went looking for nourishment, a place where the slayer had often fought.
And it was the place where Sunnydale High students liked to congregate. Xander and Cordelia swayed together, following the rhythm. Willow was drinking a cappuccino with her boyfriend: the Dingoes weren’t playing that night.
Buffy entered, in a dark blue mini-dress, the silver cross against her honey-colored skin and her beautiful blonde hair - lightened by the sun – down around her shoulders. Her high heels accentuated her slim body. She was followed by both masculine and feminine glances. To say that she was beautiful was inadequate: it was mostly a question of power. Buffy had surrendered to the charms of the night, and she was living proof that, in the end, nothing is more liberating than having nothing to lose.
Her glance met Xander’s. The boy stopped dancing immediately, and Cordelia almost fell over.
“Hey!” she snapped. “Look where you’re putting your feet! Even if we’re together, you can’t step on mine!”
“Buffy,” Xander said simply. He had watched her from afar, these past few days, and she had looked alone and defeated. But not now. Now he finally saw her for what she was: a natural force, with her roots planted in the darkness. He could only begin to understand. Too much for him. She always had been; too much.
But understanding that didn’t make it any easier to keep away from her.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked her, Cordelia’s loud complaints not even registering on his radar.
“Yes,” she answered, and wrapped her arms around his neck. In the background, a boy-band was singing about broken promises.
“I was so stupid,” Xander said. “I got on my high horse just because I thought you had betrayed me. I didn’t even try to understand.”
“There was nothing to understand,” she said. “It wasn’t destined, Xander. Your ex-girlfriend didn’t even know what she could do.”
“And do you know now?”
“Not completely…I think. I just want to…to be friends again. I need a friend, Xan…I’m so alone.”
“I know. Everything’s resting on your shoulders.”
Buffy closed her eyes. If Xander only knew…
“Hey, hey!” Cordy interrupted. “You’re not making an exhibition of yourself with my guy!”
“You’re right,” Buffy replied. “I’m not.”
“Buffy!” Willow interrupted. “A vampire is about to attack a girl! Up there on the gallery!”
Buffy took advantage of this unexpected turn of events to put off thinking about her problems: nothing better than a clear line between good and evil to cheer her up…
The girl had her back to them, and she was dancing, sexily, shaking her perfect tight butt in a pair of leather trousers. She had two tattoos: one on her arm and the other on her shoulder. The man next to her…the thing that danced next to her...was slowly approaching her alluring white neck, outlined by her black top.
Buffy stopped suddenly, arms crossed.
“Hey, Buffy!” Xander said in a low voice. “He’ll bite her if you don’t do something…”
“I really think that…” Willow had no time to finish her sentence. The brunette took a stake from her trousers and, with an agile turn, dusted the vampire.
“Wow…” Xander whispered, staring at the plunging neckline of that delicious, sinful example of female sexuality. Eyes as dark as hell, a sweet angel face, cream colored skin, full lips accentuated by the red lipstick, and long dark hair.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and declare there’s another slayer in town,” said Oz.
“Hey, B.!” the brunette laughed. “I didn’t know you came to this pigsty too. Fuck, what a refined clientele!”
“What the hell do you want? Are you just asking for trouble?” Buffy inquired, her voice hard.
“No…I just want to dance,” Faith replied. “Maybe…with you, since that good looking guy has left you all alone. Girls don’t like to be alone.”
The gang’s glances slid from one slayer to the other, the brunette and then the blonde, as if they were spectators at a tennis match.
“OK, let’s dance,” said Buffy, and she was more surprised than the others by her reply.
Faith approached and offered her hand. Buffy took it. They began to sway, following the rhythm, and soon became the principal attraction at the club. Small, slim; both gorgeous, sexy and lethal. One was bright, refined and elegant; the other one vibrated with a dark sensuality. A well realized wet dream.
“Wow,” Xander repeated.
Willow was speechless. Just like Xander, and all the other people watching the two dancing slayers - who were dripping pheromones like April rain- she was in a trance.
Buffy…one, two lovers…and now this?!
“Bitches!” replied Cordelia, and offended, she left the club.
When the music finished, Faith approached Buffy and kissed her on the forehead.
“See you next time, sister. You can really shake your booty …it’s obvious you’ve been well trained.”
Frozen in place, Buffy let her go.
Yeah, they would meet again. And soon.


Faith got back to the residence two hours (and a couple of unsatisfying humps) later. There was nothing more disappointing than frat guys: a lot of beer, little endurance and less imagination.
Darla was giving herself a manicure on a big burgundy leather sofa.
“Don’t tell me. The little girl managed not to get killed tonight. How far have you got to go along this path of self-destruction…”
“Talking to me?”, Faith mumbled. “Even if we live together, you’re still a vampire to me…and that means I’ll always be able to stake you…when I want.”
“Down, baby,” Darla replied. “When I found you, you were as alone as a stray dog. White trash, if ever I saw it. You are able to kill, and I’m able to keep you warm, well dressed, with a brand new Playstation and everything you want. I think we’re equal.”
“Don’t be easy on me, Darla,” said Faith, her eyes becoming darker.
Darla smiled.
“C’m on, do you want to relax a bit?”
Faith looked at her. The evening had been long and…frustrating. Except for her dance with the other slayer, B. But she didn’t want to tell the blonde vampire about that. She didn’t know exactly why, but she felt it would be unfair to do that.
She knew what Darla was offering her. And she had no more doubts when she saw the vampire unlacing her top.
It wasn’t the first time. And it wouldn’t be the last.
Darla pulled Faith’s head to her breast, and she bared her teeth. The dark-haired slayer wouldn’t deny her blood, she was sure about that, and that precious elixir was more satisfying to her than any orgasm. Yes, in a way she could understand what Angelus wanted from that insupportable and insipid blonde idiot. To be honest, she couldn’t think about anything else.
Faith satisfied her, taking off her T-shirt and proffering a breast to Darla: she didn’t want vampire bites where they could be seen; that would ruin her reputation.
While Darla was satisfying her, in the same way she had satisfied Drusilla for decades, Faith closed her eyes and thought about the slim, lithe body of the other slayer…B. About their fight, about their dance.
Oh, yeah, soon…


“The sun has risen again,” Buffy told herself, as she headed to Giles’ office early in the morning. Last night’s dreams were just that: dreams. Her saving Angelus. Her dancing with Faith as if they were making love.
Dreams.
Yeah, tell that to yourself, slayer.
Buffy stopped. How long had her conscience spoken with Spike’s deep and rhythmic tone of voice?
She looked around, almost sure of seeing him again…despite her reason telling her he had died in that unholy church, as a demon like him deserved.
But her instinct didn’t lie. Spike is still alive, she told herself, and so is Angelus. And it’s not yet over.
But in the daylight she could believe more easily that she was safe. Joyce had come back, Xander was still her friend, she was going round with the Scoobies again, and – apparently - everything was like before.
Almost.
On her way to school, she had looked mechanically up at the bedroom at 1628 Revello Drive. The windows were open and a middle-aged woman was airing the rooms. It looked as if Angelus had disappeared, faded away like a nightmare.
Wounded inside, Buffy told herself it was better that way. It had to be better that way. Even if she was devastated by the emptiness she felt in her heart.
But now she was in the light. And she wanted to stay there.
She burst into the library.
“I’m ready, Mr. Giles,” she said to her watcher. “Ready for anything. Train me, teach me! I mean…do your job…”
“Hey, hey, mystery lady!” Xander interrupted. He was doing research with Cordelia on a new threat: the sudden disappearance of puppies in Sunnydale’s rich precincts. The huge volume “Ritual Sacrifices: origins and modalities” was open in front of them. “Tell us about your friend…the one who danced with you…yesterday evening…at the Bronze…you made the eyes of half of Sunnydale’s male population pop out!”
“Bitches,” Cordelia added with a smile.
“Buffy…what on earth are they talking about?”
Buffy blushed. Recently everything she did seemed to give her trouble. Spike and Angelus were enough, and Faith was another complication…
“Yesterday, at the Bronze, I met Faith, the new slayer. She killed a vampire…and that’s all.”
“No, that’s not all, Mr. Giles!” Xander insisted “They…”
“Shut up, Xander,” said Willow, coming in with new books. “That’s not relevant…”
“You’re only saying that because you don’t know what a stiffie…” mumbled Xander, and Cordelia gave him another nasty look.
Giles raised his eyes to the sky for the thousandth time.
“You…you socialized with the new slayer? Did you ask her why she was working with Darla?”
“No…I…she left.”
“Ah!” Giles stated. “You should have tried harder, Buffy. You can’t imagine how dangerous Darla is. She is really ancient; the Master himself made her a vampire: at that time she was a prostitute and he saved her. She was dying of syphilis. And Darla is…”
“Angelus’ sire,” Buffy said, immediately repenting.
Giles looked at her, mouth open. “And how do you know that?”
“It was written in the book you gave me.”
“Angelus and Darla have lived together, even if not continuously, for more than two centuries. So, I’m surprised that they’re no longer allies, but enemies. Maybe there was some misunderstanding…”
“They lived together?” Buffy asked. “You mean…like lovers?”
“Yes, of course…I can’t understand why this surprises you so much. That kind of relationship is quite common among vampires. Like Spike and Drusilla, for example.”
“Mr. Giles, I don’t think they died in that church.”
“Nor do I,” Giles admitted. “Now we have four powerful vampires, connected to each other by bonds of blood and affection and by a long cohabitation…it seems that together they threatened all five continents for decades. They are the Aurelius Order, Buffy…the Master’s progeny. You couldn’t choose enemies more dangerous than they are…and don’t forget the bad slayer…Faith.”
“What should we do?”
“First of all, we’ll try to find out as much as we can about them. And we’ll hunt for their shelters. Presumably, Spike, Drusilla and Angelus - if they’re still alive - are together. Regarding Darla…I’m asking myself who can be helping her and Faith: they had weapons, followers, powerful cars. Someone must be giving them money…and if they’re trying to destroy the other three vampires, maybe it is better to let them do that…and then we’ll fight them, once we understand who’s behind them.”
“NO!” Buffy cried, instinctively.
Everyone turned and looked at her.
“I just wanted to say,” she added, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It would be better to understand their objectives, and then choose a plan.”
“Maybe we don’t have time,” Giles said. “The number of dead and missing is increasing dangerously. These vampires are feeding, Buffy…and I’ve heard they’re assembling an army.”
“But the new slayer killed one of them yesterday evening,” Willow noted. “Maybe her aim is as noble as Buffy’s …”
Buffy wanted to laugh, but she stopped herself. Noble?
“Joining with such a monster as Darla?” Giles replied, skeptical. “I don’t think we can expect nobility from a four hundred year old vampire.”
Buffy smiled. “Well, we’ll find out. I’ll patrol some more, and you’ll help me. And tonight I’ll go to Willy’s asking for news. But you have to train me, Mr. Giles. The fight will be really hard.”
“All right,” Giles replied, looking at her as if for the first time. She seemed so different…
She smiled, and, melancholically, enjoyed that last moment of normality. She was with her watcher and her friends, and they were on the right side.
"How long would it last? How much longer could the darkness wait, before it took her completely?"

9. Lies my parents told me



“I could do it alone…” Spike mumbled, sitting on Angelus’ shoulders. “I can do it with the crutches…”
“Nobody doubts it, darling,” the other vampire replied quietly. “But you can train right here, at home. Have you smelled the wind? I think it’s better to avoid any risk, don’t you?”
“To smell the wind…” Drusilla echoed, following them, her long red fur-trimmed coat brushing the ground. “It burns…it burns…”
“Here we are,” Angelus asserted, as they entered the large old abandoned house. “Crawford Street. This used to be an exclusive neighborhood in the good old days. A lot of green, and a lot of decadent villas.”
“Decadent…humid green…” Drusilla whispered, pirouetting round.
“Ahem…” Spike interrupted. “I know you like to be underneath, Scourge…But I’m getting nauseous up here…”
“How delicate you are…” Angelus approached a big brand-new reclining leather armchair, and unloaded the blonde vampire on to it. “And don’t try to claim I’m treating you badly”.
Spike stretched his legs, pretending indifference, observing him as he sat on the stone steps that surrounded the fireplace at the center of the room. That night he wore his unmistakable black leather trousers and, unusually, a white shirt that emphasised his dark features.
“What do you think Darla’s preparing for us?” he asked him.
Angelus shook his head. “Don’t know…”
“Hey!” Spike cried out. “You kept us in that lousy crypt for two days and you don’t know?! And what the bloody hell were you doing for those two days? Were you out sunbathing?”
“Uhm…Well, I was looking for a safe place for you to stay…and then…” Angelus snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes! I was recovering from the effects of a ritual that almost killed me…”
“Recovering…Sure…” Spike’s eyes became two silver slits. “I can imagine how you were recovering… maybe you were helped along by a few blowjobs from the Slayer …”
“Frankly I don’t understand what you’re complaining about,” Angelus replied, looking at him, “…since you taught her how to give a blowjob…”
Spike became less and less aggressive. “Yeah, well…she’s good, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, really good….” the other mused.
“Stop talking about that girl…” demanded Drusilla, clapping her hands sharply. The echo of the sound resonated around them, and she laughed. “I don’t like you any more when you’re talking about the Slayer…if Grandma was here…”
Angelus took her by the hips. “Dru…my dove…Grandma is not with us anymore, you know that. And she won’t come back. I’ve already told you that”.
“She’s so angry…” the vampire mumbled, dangling from his arm. “So nasty…”
“You shouldn’t be frightened, darling. I won’t let her touch you”.
“How can you be so sure?” Spike replied. “She has a slayer with her…”
“Yeah…” Angelus stood, and began to pace up and down the room. “We knew there was another one: Buffy died for a few minutes when she fought against poor dear Heinrich…it’s a small problem. And I’m not worried. She’s cool. Excellent muscles. Temperament…but she’s just a mess of anger. Nobody’s taught her how to use her power. And I’m sure Darla won’t do it. She wouldn’t even know where to begin”. He stopped, next to Spike’s armchair. “But Buffy…she’s a good pupil. And not only where blowjobs are concerned…She smashed up the church. The brunette almost broke her back, and she collected her pain and fear together and turned them into power. She moved faster than the eye can see, and she beat down the other slayer and a four-hundred-year old vampire. She’s cut out for that. We chose the right one…”
“I hope so” Spike sighed. “We came here to conquer the Hellmouth…not to fall into it…”
“Depressed, uh?” Angelus mocked him. “I know what you need…”
He sweetly forced him to take his t-shirt off and began to knead his shoulders. “You’re like iron, darling, so tense…”
Spike reclined his head back against his Grandsire’s stomach, overcome by a pleasant faintness; immediately he was surrounded by Angelus’ musky fragrance that, like a balsam, calmed his inner struggles. That was the mysterious and masculine fragrance he had scented when he came out from his grave, the fragrance that pervaded the rooms in which he began his vampire existence, the fragrance that, for better or worse, could always make him feel he was home.
He felt a sort of weak and resigned pain. Angelus…easy to hate him. Impossible not to love him. And when the hands stopped kneading his skin, Spike sank down again on the couch, vaguely frustrated.
“Dru, my dear…”Angelus called her. “Take care of our Spikey, right? Enjoy the new house…I’ll go and buy something to eat…”
He ruffled Spike’s hair and went away: Spike was alone with Drusilla’s intoxicated, intoxicating presence. She straddled him and opened her red dress, showing her small pale breasts. “Do you want to drink from mommy?”

Joyce hurried over to the car. There was an expo opening at the art gallery in a few days, and she felt all the responsibility on her shoulders. It meant more money. And more commitment. And an ulcer, as sure as death and taxes. Great. Where on earth had her keys gone now?
“Mrs. Summers, I think these are yours…” she heard a low voice behind her shoulder.
She jumped, but immediately recognized the elegant, dark-haired young man who was handing her the lost keys. “Mr. O’Connor! How nice to see you again! Thank you…I’m so up in the clouds lately…and…please…call me Joyce…”
“And just call me Liam, please” He smiled, pushing his hands into the pockets of his leather coat. “It’s cold tonight…”
“Yes!…What are you doing here? I thought you had moved out of this neighborhood…”
“That’s right; a friend of mine has come to work with me, and we both thought it would be easier to share an apartment downtown,” he sighed, looking around. “But I like this neighborhood…it’s perfect for a solitary walk.”
“Yes, that’s true. It’s a good place to live…Well, I really hope you’ll come and visit us for a coffee, during one of your walks…” Joyce suggested, feeling a bit coquettish. “Last time was so interesting, talking about art with someone who really understands it…”
Liam nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll come for sure. Ah…Joyce?” he was looking at her intensely, and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking he had really amazing eyes. “Have you been to the hairdresser? Changed your style?”
“Oh…just highlights, nothing more…” God, he was the first one who had noticed that.
“Ah, that’s what it is. They suit you,” he told her, stepping back.
“Good night, Joyce…and say hello to your daughter too…” He knitted his brows. “Betty?”
She didn’t understand for a minute. “Uh?...Oh…Buffy! My daughter’s name’s Buffy…”
“Yes, of course…how stupid of me…Then, say hello to Buffy from me.” He shook her hand, a strong and decisive handshake. “Tell her I’ll come to visit you soon.”
Joyce watched his broad back for some seconds, as he walked away down the path. A particularly charismatic man…But what cold hands!


Hidden in the shadow of a tree, a cigarette in his hand, Angelus watched Joyce Summers getting into her car and pulling away from Revello Drive. He could almost hear her heartbeats becoming regular and her blood pressure coming down: she wasn’t aware of it, but she got a sense of relief every time she went out, every time the excuse of work and money gave her time to spend away from her daughter. A daughter who didn’t understand. A daughter who had frightened her too many times…
Parents, Angelus thought, crushing the butt under his shoe: a miserable race, genetically programmed to fail. He looked up. Buffy’s bedroom was in darkness: probably she was already out, patrolling. But he didn’t want to meet her that night.
And damn, he didn’t want to see Darla either…
But she was there. He knew that before he turned around.
“Hi, love”, the vampire whispered, her blonde hair shining in the dark. She glanced at their clothes.
“You’re in black and white too…we can still read each other’s minds…”
“Don’t be so pathetic, confusing preferences about clothes with some kind of bond between us.”
“Is that all it is? Sure?” Darla came closer, swaying in her typical way, as if she was making love. “But I knew you would be here…in front of the Slayer’s house…and here you are…Maybe you are the pathetic one. What game are you playing? Romeo and Juliet?”
Angelus laughed. “Whatever it is, you’re not invited, so don’t be sad.”
She was in front of him now, always beautiful, always exciting. He couldn’t deny that…but he could resist her. “Do what Wolfram and Hart told you to do. Or try to. Either way, you won’t get me back.”
Darla didn’t look scared. “I was the one who taught you to be obstinate, don’t forget that…” one of her little hands, with its natural pink-colored nails, slipped between two buttons of his shirt, touching his skin. “Really, you don’t miss me? Not even a little bit?”
Angelus allowed her to touch his skin and brought his face to hers, almost touching her lips. “Not at all.”
With a roar, Darla pushed him away. “Two hundred and fifty years…I gave you two hundred and fifty years. I’ve been a mother to you. And that doesn’t mean anything?”
“All sons leave the nest, sooner or later, don’t you know that?” Angelus replied, re-buttoning his shirt. “You have to set them free.”
“Bullshit!” Darla bawled, pointing at Buffy’s house. “It’s because of her, right? Because of that cheerleader…but you’ll get tired…she’s just new…”
“I’m disappointed in you…” Angelus skirted her, looking at her cynically. “Is that the value you put on our two hundred and fifty years together? So small that you believe a teenager could erase them in a moment? No, no…Darling, you underestimate us. The reason is you, Darla”. His voice became low and threatening. “You are the same bitch you used to be when you were human; you can’t stop selling yourself and having masters. First it was the Master, and now the Wolfram and Hart attorneys. You feel strong only if they pay and use you”. He took her by the chin, tightening his grip. “Well, I’ve no masters. None”.
Darla gasped, continuing to look at him, with rage and pride. And desire. “I’m your master.”
Angelus drew back his hand. “Ah, sure? Well…you know the crème de la crème of attorneys, right? So sue me”.



He moved away fast down Revello Drive, aware that she wouldn’t follow him. Neither of them wanted to fight directly. These spats were common, like fencing before the true battle; a sort of petting Darla enjoyed…he knew her very well. And it was the same for him, with one significant difference between them: his sire was a slave to her senses.
Families…Bonds…sometimes they were a consolation, a shelter in the vastness of the centuries. Sometimes they were chains he preferred to break and throw as far away as he could…
Walking through the cemetery, he felt he was not alone. He stopped, sniffing the air: it wasn’t a slayer smell…neither the blonde or the brunette. There was…Oh, yes.
Angelus explored with a glance the tombs and the funerary buildings and saw her, waiting in front of a crypt.
“Dru…I asked you to take care of Spike and to stay home…It’s dangerous to be out…” he reproached her sweetly.
She whimpered felinely. “My knight was tired and he fell asleep…But I’m awake...all night the voices are talking to me…” She moved behind him, rubbing herself against his back. “And they’re talking about you…they say I can’t sleep because of you…because of your blood…which is strong and powerful…” she took him by the hand and led him to a wall covered by ivy.
“Like your body…”
Angelus was listening to her, fascinated. He had always been enchanted by her visionary insanity.
He watched her kneel, the waning moon shining on her black hair.
“It’s been so long since you allowed me to taste your body…” Drusilla whispered; and with her white fingers she gently touched his thighs.
“My dove, you’ve just to ask for it…”
He heard her sigh, while she was unzipping his leather trousers. “Daddy, the Slayer is not the only one who has these talents…”
Angelus relaxed against the soft ivy carpet. Families…Bonds…sometimes they had pleasant advantages…


The first thing he saw, opening his eyes, was Miss Edith and her wide, amazed, glassy stare. Spike smiled, stretching. A typically lovely Dru gesture: she always used to put her favorite doll next to him, to watch him sleep…
The vampire sat up, touching his hair and face. The bruises were almost gone. He was getting better fast. Luckily. He hated to lay low…trembling he stood up and, naked, he reached for his jeans, pulling them on with some difficulty.
In the house everything was absolutely quiet, and sharp glints of lunar light peeked between the heavy black curtains that protected the archway leading into the garden. Spike took a crutch and limped outside.
He knew perfectly well where Drusilla had gone. And he could easily imagine what she was doing right then. That wasn’t a problem…It never had been. He understood her…
But, for some absurd reason, he felt distraught. Uneasy. Bloodily, desperately alone.
Why? Why now?
Next to him, the silence was broken by the sound of a twig snapping.

10. Something blue.



The vampire’s senses were still just as acute, despite the accident, and Spike tried to stand up, hiding himself behind one of the windows. Someone was inside the big house, and that person must be very brave and resolute, if they dared to enter the nest of three dangerous vampires.
Who am I kidding? he asked himself, suppressing a laugh. Spike, dangerous? Dangerous as a kitten. He could hardly stand up, and his sire’s generous sharing of her blood - though necessary to his recovery – would not be enough alone. He needed time to heal, to become again what he had been before, the slayer of slayers.
The vamp who had seduced that one, unforgettable, slayer…
Spike had a clear vision of the world, after one hundred and thirty years of non-life. Of course everyone has his own vision, he thought: but Drusilla was too insane to care, Darla too egocentric, and Angelus too proud. Their immortality, true or false, didn’t matter, didn’t save them from problems such as loneliness, frustration and sadness.
“Even if we’re not wise, we can love in our own way,” Drusilla used to say, and she was right. But one had always loved more than the other; and this happened to humans too, in every couple there would be one who gave love, and one who took it; but the world was a wasteland. In which they had to live. For years and years, and years…
When he became a vampire, William had looked for inspiration from his creators. But he hadn’t found an answer in his sire’s mindless insanity, nor in Darla’s arrogant and insouciant self-assurance.
And he had found even less in Angelus.
Angelus lived intensely, his non-life made up of evil domination and pleasure, the esthetics of torment. But he never deprived himself of anything, and that was admirable. William smelled in his spiritual sire uncommon power that, in a being not so constitutionally bonded to evil, could lead to either unreachable heights, or to unknowable depths of pain. William didn’t believe that Liam, the prodigal and dissolute man Angelus had been before, represented his entire existence. If life - or non-life - is just a journey, Angelus could still reveal many amazing steps along the way. And Spike was curious about the final destination.
So it didn’t surprise him at all that Angelus had used all his energies to seduce that blonde and courageous thing, the Slayer.
Regarding himself, William had a clear vision too. William, le poete maudit…nothing, apart from his own bloody will, had led him from that modest and bourgeois life made up of little unsatisfied aims, to the effulgence of a life with no rules or borders, transgressing even the thin borders of pure evil.
Will.
Spike clutched the crutch in his good hand, ready to use it as a weapon. Death had freed him from certainty, and now he belonged to the universe of the will. The will that constitutes the destiny of a man…of a demon…of every single creature, from the simplest to the most complex, that lives in this dimension.
Spike wanted…therefore he existed.
Once he had known what his true goals were, nothing could stop William the Bloody.
Nothing, apart from…
The ineluctable. That which he could not fight, could not face.
Not death; no, nothing so trivial, so bourgeois.
But there were other ineluctable things.
Like the one that at that precise moment - he was as sure as if he could see it with his own eyes - was keeping Dru kneeling in front of her sire, her knees spoiled by the rough grass.
Like the one that quickened the heartbeat of a blonde Slayer, who had known the pleasures of the flesh in his own arms, and who had lost her mind and her reason to be for Angelus. And still didn’t realise it.
The night visitor was penetrating deep into the overgrown garden that nobody had tended for many years. Spike did not hesitate: bloody hell, he feared nothing, not even the devil!
He gripped the crutch and stepped out under the moonlight.
“Spike…”


“Buffy!” he exclaimed, letting the crutch fall to his side.
He wouldn’t fight her, even if she had come with the precise aim of staking him right through the heart.
And he was sure that was what she was there for.
He remembered her misty glance when she had watched them – he and Angelus - share the blood and the sex of that silly blonde girl Harmony.
And he still remembered the deepness of her gaze when they had silently wished each other good luck during the fight, when their lives had divided them, maybe for ever. She had gone with Angelus, and he was with Dru, his sire.
“God…you’re here. And you’re alive. I thought…”
“You thought I was already dust, Slayer?” he asked her, lighting a cigarette with his good hand. He looked at her through the cloud of light-blue smoke. “I’m moved by your interest. I’m fine now, as you can see.”
Buffy came closer, tucking the stake back inside her jacket. Spike relaxed, instinctively, unaware of the deeper meaning of her gesture, but glad she had done it.
“Is it hard for you to walk? And the bruises? Have they healed?”
“Angelus is out there,” Spike told her, pointing with his cigarette in the direction of the nearby cemetery. “I’ll tell him you dropped by.”
“I didn’t come to see Angelus,” she admitted.
“Bored with the new menu?” Spike asked with a wry smile. “Sorry, the canteen here always serves the same slop. The dish of the day is the one you’ve already tried. But maybe now it’s a little more…flambé.”
Snoticed his bitterness, and was surprised by it. She could not imagine that he was jealous. God only knew why she was so worried for him.
“My nark told me there were some vampires in this old house…and, no, I’m not here for Angelus. He told me clearly he didn’t need me anymore. To be honest, I’m asking myself if your injuries have been properly attended to. You’ve still got two powerful enemies out there – or had you forgotten?”
“Darla?” Spike smiled. “You can’t really be afraid of someone you’ve fucked, Buffy, believe me. And the feeling is completely mutual.” His angry smile almost erased her good intentions from her mind. Almost. “Regarding little suburban Wonder Woman, believe me, I’ve seen better slayers. And then, other better ones”.
Buffy looked at him, then came closer. Before he could stop her, her fingers were on his face. The fire had left bruises that were disappearing…but had still not completely gone. She missed his smooth and gloomy beauty, even if she knew that soon he would have it again.
While poor Harmony rested forever in the ground. To rot. Wasn’t that enough to make him hateful to her?
“Why do I worry about you?” the slayer whispered.
“Because your heart is weak and I light up your life with my wonderful presence.”
“Go to hell, Spike,” she said, laughing despite herself. “Let’s sit down there in the moonlight, and talk for a bit.”
He dragged himself over to her and let himself fall onto the little stone bench that Drusilla sat on to count the stars. For a moment they remained still and quiet together, in the dark and the silence of the night to which they both belonged,; then when he had finished his cigarette, Spike dropped the butt and trod it into the ground with the toe of his Doc Martens.
“Do you want to know how to progress your relationship with Angelus?” he asked her, calmly. “I’ve already told you. Run away as fast as you can. You are not crazy, nor immortal: two important qualities required to survive an affair with him.”
“And what exactly could I not survive?” she asked, fascinated, despite herself.
“His tortures. Physical, psychological, spiritual. Sex with a vampire. At the moment, you only know the Harlequin version for lonely hearts. I’m talking about true sex. And blood. And sex again. And nothing else except misery.”
“You really are Mr. Happiness tonight,” Buffy said. “C’mon, it wasn’t so bad. I mean, doing it with you. I remember you as a gentle and wise lover, who took my virginity as if it was a flower…”
“Yes, it’s true, tonight I’m a bit sad…depressed. But…thanks,” he said. “That means a lot to me.”
She looked at him to find the irony on his face…but it wasn’t there. He looked sincere.
“And maybe it was good with Angelus too - in his revised and corrected version for young and naïve people, I mean…But I think next time you wouldn’t have fun. Not at all.”
“Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not, I’m being realistic. If you really want to experience his passion, you must be ready to bear the consequences. I don’t know if you’re ready for that…for that definitive descent. Ask yourself who you are, and what being a slayer really means, Buffy, before you give your heart to Angelus. I’m serious. Take all the time you need. Because you can never come back. And if that is the journey you choose, maybe you won’t like where it takes you.”
Buffy kept silent, thinking about his words.
“Spike…what was I to you? I mean…just an easy bang?”
“No,” he answered. “Not just a bang, and particularly not an easy one,” the vampire admitted, deadly serious. “I feel as if this weakness and these bruises are more due to you, to the kiss I gave you that night at the Restfield, than to your companion, the other slayer, who threw me inside that bloody organ. I can’t aspire after grace Buffy. There is no heaven for the damned, and I don’t want it either…but in your arms I had faith…faith in something effulgent.”
“Thank you,” she said, and an involuntary tear trickled down her cheek.
“The journey has led us forward, my lady,” he told her, wiping the tear away with his fingertip. “But where its end will be, finally, is a mystery. I just want to live it.”
In his deep blue eyes there was such an ardent will to live, that she felt touched. Spike was really an amazing creature, and maybe the Lord also had a place for him, the slayer of the Slayers, in his infinite plan…at least as much as He had one for Angelus and the darkness he was the emblem of. And for a confused vampire Slayer.
She felt she couldn’t live without them, either of them.
She wanted his smooth mouth, the one that had given her the first adult kiss. She wanted them both, her princes of the noir…and, even if confusedly, she wanted to bring them to the light, to bring them out of the darkness that separated her from them. But no-one could say for sure if she would be doing this out of love…or vengeance…or desperation. And would that be sufficient? Would it stop her feeling so alone?
“Buffy…” he whispered, caressing her face, touching her delicate skin with his fingers. He wanted to be a man for her. But, also in that moment, a part of himself, maybe his demon, couldn’t give up the will to be special.
Without words, their bodies approached, once more, with feeling. And then, the lips of William the Bloody were again on those of Buffy Summers - a seventeen-year-old girl, a vampire Slayer.
There were no more reasons, loves, destinies, but only the inescapable beauty of their lips, of their breaths – hers, quick and amazed, and his, so useless and artificial, but still so human…- of their skin, of a magic contact.
And there were regrets, because it was imperfect in the instant it was born.
While Buffy, lost in the sweetness of that kiss, was asking herself if that charming imperfection came from her soul…or from the fact he had no soul at all, Angelus and Dru came in from the other side of the garden.



“Buffy…you must go!” Spike whispered, his hand still on her face “Angelus and Dru are coming.”
“Where?” she asked, agitated. She wasn’t scared of meeting Angelus, but she didn’t want to fight Drusilla. Would she be jealous of Buffy and her Spike together? And if so, would she …dust him?
“There is a shed…there, over by that wall. Hide my love, quickly!”
Buffy obeyed, and she made it to the shed just a second before she could hear Angelus’ boots sound on the stone path.
“All alone, Spikey?” Angelus asked. “Give me a fag, I need it.”
Spike’s face did not show any emotion. He took the packet and handed it to Angelus. Dru was behind him, a happy and satisfied expression on her face. “Was Miss Edith good company?” his beloved asked.
“Yes, she and…the stars,” answered Spike, noticing without any surprise her swollen lips, uncombed hair and shining eyes. She had fed also, and he suspected that Angelus, suddenly generous, had let her drink his blood. Only a vampire knew the indefinable ecstasy the blood of a sire could give. Particularly if it was hot due to the pleasure he had just experienced…
Dru looked deeply at him, as if she wanted to discover a secret he kept from her. Then she yawned. “I’m exhausted…I haven’t felt so tired for years.”
Spike felt irritated, but he was thinking about Buffy. Even if it was pathetic, he knew that if Buffy discovered the relationship between Angelus and Dru, she would probably suffer…and he didn’t want that.
But it was impossible.
“You’ve spoiled her, Spike. Dru is not as tight as she once was,” said Angelus.
“Dru has one hundred and fifty years of embraces behind her,” Spike replied. “Go back to your little blonde virgin. I’m sure she will suit you better.”
“That one? She’s good in the fight, like a sharp weapon. But in bed…she’s so boring.”
Spike smiled. Buffy would be able to hear Angelus’ unmerciful statement from the shed…but she couldn’t see his shining dark eyes. Those eyes were saying something else entirely…
“What’s the matter with you?” Angelus asked, unnerved by Spike’s smile.
“Someone has walked on your grave, Liam,” Spike replied, smiling, and he stood up, taking his crutch.
When the two vampires entered the house, following Dru, Buffy came out from her shelter, the stake tight in her hand. She could still go inside and kill them all… it would be hard, but it was possible. Spike was wounded, so an easy obstacle to erase…the other two left. Filthy, dirty, defiled and traitorous creatures…
Yeah, like she could do that.
She hated them: Spike and his sudden tenderness, Angelus and his bloody arrogance, Dru who was loved and healed by them both, despite everything.
She asked herself why Angelus’ statement was hurting so much. What had she expected from him, for giving him her body and saving him from his sire’s and Faith’s rage? Eternal love? How silly she was!
Feeling very down, Buffy walked home slowly. She had had enough of vampires and their games for one night. She wanted to forget Angelus, his dark eyes, his robbing kisses, his whispers, his big hands, his strong body that covered her like a blanket and that gave her a heat her skin could not have without him…
And she wanted to forget Spike too, and his ironical smile, his beautiful smooth mouth, his rough sweetness, his night-blue eyes.
Fuck them both!
She knew what she needed. She headed to the nearest cemetery, the one where Angelus and Dru had had their passionate evening, to find something to kill. To kill a lot.
But someone had got there first.
The brunette slayer was happily fighting three vampires and a demon, and it didn’t look like she needed any help. Buffy paused, arms crossed, to watch the show.
“You could help me B.!” Faith shouted, without stopping. “Instead of just standing there.”
Buffy threw her stake, and one of the vampires turned to dust immediately.
“Good!” Faith said, beheading the demon. Two vampires left: one ran away and Faith pursued him. The other one attacked Buffy, who grabbed her stake from the ground and dusted him with a slow and elegant gesture.
In a minute Faith came back, shaking the dust from her body and her long dark hair.
“You’re good.”
“I’ve been doing it a long time,” Buffy replied. “What surprises me is that you’re doing the same…aren’t you with Darla?”
Faith laughed.
“And aren’t you Angelus’ lover?”
“Nobody is perfect,” Buffy retorted.
“No…but he’s a great-looking man with long legs, big shoulders and everything in proportion, if I am right. How is he in bed, B.? I bet he satisfies you more than a good slay, doesn’t he?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Even better!” Faith laughed. “So, I’ll try to find out for myself what it feels like when you have a vampire in you. Beginning with your vampire, Mr. Black Leather Trousers.”
Buffy’s glance became unmerciful.
“Keep away from me and my life Faith…if you don’t want to discover what it’s like fighting against a Slayer. A true one”
Faith laughed again. “Whenever you want, darling…how about right now?”
Buffy took her stake and put it in her belt.
“I don’t kill humans.”
“And I don’t fuck vampires…oops, not yet, anyways.”
Buffy looked at her, not believing what she heard.
“Nice boobies B.!” Faith added, satisfied, and set off home, leaving Buffy alone, and much more confused than she had been at the start of that grotesque and disappointing evening.

11. Dear boy.


Two o’ clock in the afternoon; time for a slayer to wake up after a night spent killing vampires and a lot of unsatisfying fucking. She had got home so frustrated, and looking forward to having fun with the four-century-old bitch she lived with…but the vamp was in a really bad mood and not available for their usual erotic games. What a boring companion…
A vampire having a breakdown – that’s all I need! Faith thought as she soaked in the shower, feeling her tense and painful muscles contract and relax under the hot water.
She came out of the bathroom, sprinkling water drops everywhere and leaving damp footprints on the white carpet: her bathrobe was undone and her hair was dripping wet.
“Shit, Faith…At least you could dry yourself…” Darla reproached her from where she lay on the bed. Prone, in a pale pink petticoat, an arm stretched out to reach the cigarette in the ashtray, she looked like a grotesque imitation of the corpse of Marilyn Monroe.
“What’s rattled your cage?” Faith asked, sitting down in an armchair. “If I didn’t know it’s impossible, I would swear you’re on your period…”
The vampire pulled on the cigarette and produced a little smoke ring, watching it drifting away and slowly disappearing. “I met Angelus last night…and something went wrong. Really wrong”.
“Jesus, what the hell has that demon got in his pants to make you all behave like little bitches?” Faith burst out. “The seventh wonder of the world?”
“Maybe the eighth one, you ignorant…” Darla mumbled, stubbing out the cigarette on her palm without showing any pain at all.
“What?” The slayer shook her head, annoyed. “Seriously…You’re four hundred years old, you’re powerful, beautiful and immortal, right? Ok, your boy is good, but the world is full of men, darling…there’s…Hey, there’s Lindsey, right?” She pointed at Darla, with a know-it-all expression. “That ambitious lawyer all dressed in Armani who works for Wolfram and Hart…he drools over you. And I think you fucked him a few times, didn’t you? He’s pretty sexy…well, turn him! Then you’ll have a new toy. It’s so easy.”
She stood up suddenly, revealing her half-naked body, and paused suggestively in front of the bed. “Trust me, you can find ten thousand other guys like your dear boy”.
Darla laughed, surprising her. Sometimes, behind the cold blue of her eyes, you could see a softer shade of blue, a sort of secret vulnerability; but, unfortunately, it disappeared all too soon. And afterwards, you thought it had been just a dream.
“Oh, shut up…you don’t know him…” she whispered, thinking about the past. “You should have seen us together…we were a plague. A curse. A wild pestilence.” She smiled, opening her arms. “And it was wonderful. He, Angelus was wonderful…and he still is”. She knelt on the bed, shaking like someone in a fever, and took Faith by her naked hips, burying her face in the other’s breasts. “You can’t imagine how it feels to be completely possessed by him…Completely, I mean, you little girl…Angelus is like a cruel punishment you want to have again and again and again…” She fell back on the bed, laughing again. “But how could you understand that?” she teased. “Go away. I must think. Go away”.
Faith obeyed and she went to her room, playing with the belt of her bathrobe.
Right, she couldn’t possibly know anything about that.
Not enough, anyway…and the famous Angelus begun to arouse her curiosity. Maybe she should observe him from close up.





Twilight: time for a vampire to wake up. The time that suited him best.
Angelus loved that moment, because he could watch, without risk of getting burned, the sun dipping under the horizon; the colors of the sunset were still visible, and they produced an unexpected and almost metaphysical glow.
He remembered being alone when he fell asleep, but now there was Drusilla’s slim arm curled possessively around his chest. And next to her was Spike, his face inside her black hair, holding her naked back. Angelus was not surprised.
Often it happened that, during the day, like children scared by the light and the noise of the human world, they came into his bed. Of course Drusilla took the initiative, but Spike would soon follow her. It was a kind of quiet, unspoken agreement; everyone took their place: the black goddess in the middle, with the two demonic guardian angels around her.
When they lived with Darla it had rarely happened. She didn’t allow any kind of invasion into her alcove. At least, not to sleep…but Angelus liked that intrusion. Loneliness is cold. Colder if your body is cold too.
He leaned up on his elbow. Spike’s hand had slid down Drusilla’s shoulder, and now it was trapped in Angelus’ little golden chain. He freed Spike’s fingers delicately, standing up carefully, and moved naked and silent to the French door that opened on to the garden.
William had long fingers, a writer’s fingers, he thought, looking up, excited by the stars that began to shine above him. Spike fascinated him in a certain way…he was more alive than a lot of humans, strongly tied to the emotions that had ignited his imagination when he was a poet. He could still believe, hope and dream. And despite all the cynicism and disillusionment he had collected in more than a hundred years of death and massacre, he could still fall in love like a teenager. And what’s more, he was in love with a Slayer…
Angelus went out, stretching, and glanced rapidly at the door of the shed. The night before…he hadn’t got it immediately, he must admit…then he had smelled Buffy.
Down there. And on Spike. Of course…
Was he annoyed?
Angelus touched the claddagh ring he wore on his right hand, the only thing that reminded him of the past. No, he wasn’t annoyed. It made him curious. Everything seemed so…romantic.
He laughed. He wasn’t sure he could love somebody, not in the human way. Maybe he wasn’t even able to do it when he was human…he vaguely remembered a little sister and her lively embraces. And a father who used to beat him. But was his father right or wrong?
Maybe loving somebody just wasn’t my cup of tea, he told himself…he shook his head. It was the effect of the bloody twilight: his thoughts were always twisted and confused, like the colors of the sky, until the night, the hunt, the blood, put everything back the way it should be.
He went back inside and dressed. Dru and Spike were still sleeping, cuddled up to each other. Angelus looked at the blonde vampire, still wearing his long black coat. That’s all right, William…everyone plays his role, in this world. You’re the gentleman. And I am…
Here comes the darkness, at last. He plunged into it, as if it was a river.
Well, I…I’m the bad boy.


Two o’clock in the morning: the most probable time for a vampire to meet a slayer. Or vice versa. Also, to be honest, Angelus wasn’t thinking about the slayer; to be more precise, he wasn’t thinking about either of the two slayers. He was quite calm. He was feeling good, motivated, full and sure. And there was a gentle scent in the air; spring was coming slowly.
But peace didn’t last for long on the Hellmouth…he grabbed the person who was waiting for him, hidden behind a corner of a funerary chapel, taking her stake and throwing her on to the ground.
Faith lay supine, her dark hair covering her amazed face, and he shook his finger at her reproachfully.
“You’re Faith, right? Well, you are not so good…you’ve watched too many TV series where the police break in with guns in their hands…you have to keep your weapon against your chest, otherwise the risk is that somebody will take it before you can use it”. He showed her the stake and then crushed it in his fist. “Oops…I broke it…”
She rose and in a second stood in front of him, her leg muscles tensed ready to start. “What a nice lesson…Do I have to pay, or is it free?”
What a brave girl, Angelus thought. “Ok Faithy…What shall we do? Fight like little schoolmates? Try to get to the point quickly. I don’t want to get angry with you”.
Faith stayed on guard as she looked him up and down. This vampire was certainly one of the most beautiful she had ever seen…and now she could understand why Darla was so fond of him. And B. too. It was a kind of obscure vibration he gave off, and if you came too close you were sucked in, trapped. She could already feel it on her skin, looking for the way to her blood. Why not?
Just let it poison you, she thought, it could be the greatest sexual experience in my life…and everyone says that a slayer’s life is too short.
She was fast. She knocked him down and was on him in a minute, opening his dark red shirt.
“They can fuck me once, darling, but not twice…” she threatened him, taking another stake from the back of her jeans and pointing it at his naked chest.
Underneath her, Angelus regarded her with a scientific curiosity. “So? I’ve asked you to get to the point…what is it?”
The slayer was moving sensually on his stomach. Ah, there it was…the point… “Everyone says a lot of things about you, Scourge…Darla comes just calling your name, and B…I thought she would kill me when I told her I wanted to fuck you…”
The vampire’s curiosity became interest. He put his hands on her hips and then slid them up under her leather top, on to her breasts. “Do you want to fuck me, or do you want me to fuck you? Because, I assure you, there’s a big difference…”
Faith’s eyes widened. She forgot the stake and crouched over him. “Fifty-fifty, is that all right?” And instead of kissing him she was almost biting him, pushing into his mouth frantically, like someone who is used to taking what they want, without asking for it. She felt the vampire’s hands on her buttocks, pushing her down against him, and, excited, she kissed him more strongly, trying to get their trousers undone at the same time.
Then…
She didn’t understand immediately what had happened…she was some distance away from him, she felt dizzy, her hair was disheveled and her mouth hurt and tasted of blood. Angelus was standing up quietly, buttoning his shirt. “Faithy, Faithy…again, you’re not too good…If that’s your idea of the art of seduction, you’ve a lot to learn…the steamroller style may work with the spotty teenagers of this lousy town…but it doesn’t work with me” He took the stake from the ground and crumbled it as he had with the other. “Look for me with serious intentions, or keep away from me. I graduated from kindergarten a long, long time ago”. He smiled deviously at her and walked slowly away between the tombs.
Faith stood there for a long time, following him with her eyes. She had only one thought in her mind, together with the furious sound of her heartbeat. Oh, yeah vampire, I’ll look for you…
I will come, and my intentions will be serious…

12. Touched.

“Don’t you understand?” Willow said, dangerously excited. “She chose me…ME! I’ll be her new stand-in! I’ll give grades, write remarks on their diaries, send them to the Principal, and…”
“Are you power-crazy, Will?” Buffy asked softly, pulling her sunglasses off and looking lazily around. There were no demons or vampires on campus that shiny sunny South-California day…only spotty teenagers who didn’t deserve a single glance. And they dared to feel sorry for her… “I’m proud of you, but…it’s just a stand-in hour. And for just one day. So Miss Calendar is going to Los Angeles for some research she has to do, and you have to take care of the students. I can’t see anything exciting in that.”
Willow looked at her, disappointed.
“You don’t understand, Buffy!” She tried to explain. “You’re the Chosen one. And you do amazing things every single day…even if nobody knows. But who am I? The girlfriend of Oz, the bassist in Dingoes Ate My Baby. And then? Oh, yeah, the nerd with red hair who has nothing but A grades in the register. Cordelia only speaks to me the day before a class test, and if Xander is with her he…”
“What?” Buffy asked, already distant. “Xander…what?”
“Nothing,” Willow replied, trying to forget her last meeting with him. Things hadn’t worked out very well, and she couldn’t talk to Buffy about that, even if she was supposed to be her best friend. But Buffy wasn’t sharing either. She didn’t talk about that mysterious William anymore, and she didn’t mention the other one too, the mysterious guy.
“By the way, I want to ask you something.”
“Go on, Will.”
“Come with me to see Miss Calendar. I have to meet her in ten minutes and my legs are shaking.”
“If you want.” Buffy yawned. “Let’s go.”
They went to the IT lab. Buffy was aware of the boys’ glances: when Xander dumped her they had commiserated with her (mockingly), but now she was available. And they whispered she was “a goer”. Buffy thought about her enforced chastity (both of her vampire lovers, for different reasons, kept their distance from her) and hoped it would end soon. But, please God, not with one of her classmates!
Miss Calendar was in her office, working at her PC. As the girls came in, she closed the window she was working on.
“Oh, right, Willow…and Buffy,” she welcomed them. She looked embarrassed. “Here is the plan for the next lesson, Willow…please be on time. And give them homework, or they won’t respect your authority.”
“Of course, Miss Calendar. I won’t let them do that,” Willow stammered.
“Well,” Jenny said. “The PC is still switched on, so you can print the files for tomorrow.” She gave her some brief advice, said goodbye to them both, and left.
“Whoa, she was in a hurry,” Buffy stated. “I wonder what she was working on. I don’t think she wanted to tell us.”
Willow sat down in front of the PC and stretched her hands, like a pianist before a difficult piece.
“Well, it’s easy to find that out,” she smiled. “I just need to open the last file she edited.”
She tried, but the file was password protected.
Buffy smiled. “You can’t do it.”
“Yes I can,” she insisted, and tried to bypass the password.
“Will…don’t you think this is… snooping?”
“Nah…now I’m curious.”
Buffy looked at her, amazed by her unexpected audacity, but she walked away. “I don’t want Snyder to find me here violating a teacher’s privacy. God knows, he already has enough reasons to hate me.”
Willow almost didn’t notice Buffy leaving. She was too interested in her research. She knew that Jenny was a technopagan, she had described herself in that way when they first met, but Willow didn’t really know what it meant. Maybe it involved magic? Ohhh, that would be interesting! As much as the secret books that Mr. Giles used to keep locked up…
“Bingo!” she cried, when the secret document displayed its contents, like a lover who reveals himself.
It was a text divided into two parts: the first was written in an unknown, musical language, and the other was in English.
And it wasn’t too difficult to understand what it was, and what it could be used for. Willow was finishing it, shocked, when someone came in. It was just the cleaning lady, but she didn’t waste any time. She took a floppy disk from her bag and copied the file.
With the floppy safe inside her bag she walked out of the IT lab as if nothing had happened.
Her legs were shaking.

“Oh my God!” Willow thought, in the toilets, looking at her shocked face in the mirror. She had hacked into a teacher’s PC. She could be expelled from the school. Probably it was a federal crime and…
“Willow!”
Xander’s voice took her by surprise. She turned around, looking at him.
“Are you OK?” he asked her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost…”
“Xander! What are you doing in the girl’s washroom?”
“Good question,” he laughed. “Cordelia told me you’d been in here for ten minutes …I was worried.”
“C’mon,” Willow said, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Hey!” he protested. “Stop that!”
“Have you ever had…a secret?”
Xander thought. Yeah, That blow job Buffy gave me in the toilet…he told himself…and the fact I can’t forget it.
“No” he answered.
“Xander…I’ve made a very big mistake” Willow told him, with wide eyes and trembling lips.
“Dear old Oz finally persuaded you, uh?”
“Oh, please!” she got angry. “Life is not only about sex, you know.”
“Yes it is, if you’re seventeen.”
“Xander…be serious. I’ve discovered something…about someone…and…”
“Buffy?” Xander asked. “Is she going out with that blonde guy again?”
Willow looked at him. “Does Cordelia know that you’re always thinking about her?”
Xander looked back at her, and Willow lost herself in his charming dark eyes.
“She’s not the only one I’m thinking about, and you know that.”
Oh, no, no…Willow thought.
“Xan, we’ve already talked about that. It was a mistake.”
“It was fun,” he replied.
“No, it wasn’t. Oz was playing, Cordy was dancing and you…and I…in the toilet at the Bronze …but it was just a kiss. We’d drunk too much…”
“…cappuccino?” Xander arched an eyebrow. “Will, you’ve been my best friend since we were at kindergarten. Don’t tell me we were drunk, or stoned, or confused, because that’s not the truth. We kissed each other…and it was good. It was really good, to be honest…and I adore Cordelia, but since I split up with Buffy I’ve never loved a woman who was also my friend. And that woman is you, Willow.”
“Shut up. I made a mistake…and now I’ve made another one. Xander, we must forget about it.”
“Yeah, tell that to yourself” he said, offended, and walked off.
The floppy was burning a hole in her bag, between her books.
Willow ran home and hid it in a drawer, under her most secret things. It was dangerous for her just knowing its contents…
She decided to forget it, like she had with Xander’s kiss at the Bronze.



Buffy was still feeling surprised by the boldness Willow had demonstrated copying Miss Calendar’s secret file when she arrived home…and immediately she told herself it would have been a better idea to stay at school.
The twilight enlightened that spring night, and her mom was talking with two vampires in the living room. She had invited them in. Again.
“Buffy!” Joyce smiled to her. “Look who came to visit us…Mr. O’Connor, our neighbour, do you remember? And that’s his friend, Mr. Shelby, from London. We were talking about the wonderful pre-Columbian art collections you can find in the UK, and…”
Buffy stood at the lounge door, immovable. Her eyes were fixed on Angelus and Spike.
They both smiled at her, damn them.
“A cup of tea, Buffy?”
The girl came closer. Spike was seated on a couch, her favourite, where she sat to watch the TV; he had a stick beside him, because he still found it difficult to walk. Angelus was very elegant, all dressed in black, and he sat politely on the other end of the sofa.
“Yes, thanks, mom,” she whispered nervously.
Spike talked a lot with her mother, who was delighted by this new and cultured young man. Angelus was drinking his tea, and sometimes he looked across at her with smiling and innocent eyes. The night seemed endless to her.
The telephone rang.
“Oh, excuse me,” Joyce laughed, and went to answer it.
Buffy looked her shoes, and then spoke. In a very low voice.
“You know…there are spells. To forbid entrance to…to you. I think I’ll use one.”
Spike smiled. “It’s all his fault,” and he pointed at Angelus, close to him, immovable. “We won’t hurt your mom. I just wanted to meet her, Buffy…and he brought me here. He told her I’m a colleague.”
“Sure you won’t hurt her,” Buffy said. “I won’t let you!”
“Sorry, gentlemen, I have to leave you. I have to go to work: an important art work has arrived at San Francisco airport, and I have to go and collect it.”
The two vampires stood up.
“It was a pleasure to see you again, Joyce,” Angelus said, in his soft voice.
“And for my part, it was nice to meet you. You and your daughter,” Spike smiled.
Buffy didn’t move while Joyce saw them to the door. Then:
“Mom!” she cried, still frightened and furious. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous to invite two complete strangers into our house?”
“But, darling, Mr. O’Connor has been our neighbour since a couple of days ago. And then he and his colleague look so polite and cultivated and…you could learn a lot from them, little girl!”
Nervously Buffy helped her mother pack her suitcase. San Francisco was some distance away, and probably her mom would have to stay overnight…and, for once in her life, Buffy told herself it would probably be better to go with her.
She was scared by the fact she would be alone in that house, into which they could enter. Even if she wasn’t scared for her life.
“Can I come with you, mommy? Please!!” she asked, nearly begging.
“What a child you are!” Joyce laughed. “C’mon, the gallery will only pay for a single room, not a double. I’m sorry, you really can’t. And tomorrow you have to be at school. Why don’t you stay over at Willow’s tonight?”
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Buffy said. An hour later, when her mom had already gone, she ate in front of the TV, tired. Then she got her stakes and went out. She would decide where to go later: now, she just wanted to slay.



When Buffy had left, a dark shadow appeared from behind a tree in her garden. Faith smiled: she had seen more than she expected to. The two vampires, Angelus and the blonde one, had been in the slayer’s house. Mayor Wilkins would certainly enjoy that information.
Later on, comfortably seated in his office, she told him what she had seen.
“The slayer’s mom welcomes her daughter’s vampire lover...and his great companion,” she said, satisfied.
“And I know a lucky girl who is going to welcome something very special!” the Mayor said. “Happy birthday, Faith!”
Wilkins took from a drawer an expensive-looking little box, with the name of the best Sunnydale jeweler printed on it. Faith clapped her hands, excited. Nobody gave her presents. “You shouldn’t do that, boss! And my birthday is next month!”
“C’mon, open it,” Wilkins suggested sweetly. “I don’t care about dates when I want to show my affection to someone I love.”
“Thank you!” Faith said, opening the package clumsily, with anxious fingers. Inside the box was a pretty white gold chain, with a shining crucifix.
“Perfect for fighting with vampires.”
“But maybe I should keep it away from…Darla,” Faith stated.
“Ah…Darla,” the mayor whispered. “A classy woman…and a big problem.”
“Mr. Wilkins…do you want me to dust her?”
“You’re always so impatient to help me, Faith!” Wilkins replied, smiling. “No…not yet. I don’t want to deal with those aggressive Wolfram and Hart attorneys…especially that brusque “gentleman”…Lindsey MacDonald, who is involved with her, I guess. But, my dear, I must confess that Darla has really disappointed me. For a moment I thought…I really thought…she hated Angelus more than anyone else and that she really wanted to kill him. But now I’m not so sure about that. She has had innumerable occasions to do it…and she couldn’t. Love…what a wonderful, human weakness…”
“Darla is a vampire,” Faith noted.
“That’s the point!” Wilkins replied, smiling. “Even when the demon is in us…we are still human. And that’s our greatest strength…and also our greatest weakness”
“Should I kill him? That’s not a problem, boss.”
“Faith…do you have a score to settle with him?”
“Something like that,” she admitted, looking down at the crucifix, which shone against her magnolia colored skin.
“My dear…keep your distance from such a tombeur de femmes as Angelus. Let women like Darla and Buffy crave him. You’re better than that. You’re stronger than that.” The mayor took a sip of Evian water, and then he said: “But killing him could be a good idea. We’ll think about it. Now it would be better to get some information about him…and about the other one too, that William the Bloody…who is just as dangerous, I suppose. He survived you…and the organ you threw him against.”
“I’ll hunt them…I’ll reach them, thanks to...”
“…the blonde slayer,” Wilkins finished. “I didn’t have any doubts. You’re the best, Faith. Never doubt that.”
Faith took the crucifix and put it on.
Then she left.
Wilkins stood, and cleaned his hands carefully.



She had patrolled the cemeteries longer than she imagined. Incredibly tired, Buffy arrived home, without noticing the shadow who had been following her since she set off.
It was too late to go to Willow’s; probably she would only have frightened her, and, to be honest, why try to run away? She looked at her bedroom window: the light was on, and it was waiting unmercifully for her. She knew very well that they were waiting for her.
Buffy opened the door, which was still locked, and slowly mounted the stairs, like a condemned woman. She heard soft voices coming from the upper floor. She walked along the corridor and opened her bedroom door.
“Hi, Buffy,” Spike said.
He lay on her bed, wearing his jeans…and nothing else.
By the window, Angelus was uncorking a bottle of champagne.
“Welcome, Buffy,” he said. “We thought you weren’t coming.”


Safe in her bedroom, Willow opened her laptop and inserted the floppy. For added security, she copied the file on to the hard disk. Then she stood motionless in front of the monitor. Unfortunately, the translation of the ritual was not complete, but with a little effort and a bit of perseverance, she could finish it by herself; she had only to find a Romanian dictionary.
The power that emanated from the words pervaded her, with an obscene effect due to its lust. Power…her eyes became bright. She could attempt the impossible. Would she succeed?
Or, better, the true question was: would she try?
Willow smiled.



Buffy was standing at the door, as if she was on a line that divided her from a different world: if she trespassed across it, she probably wouldn’t come back.
It was no use to deny it: she knew very well what they wanted from her.
And she knew also what she wanted from them.
“Who had the idea?” she asked only, in a very low voice.
Spike smiled.
“Why, the great and powerful Angelus, of course! At first I thought it was crazy…because you would probably dust us just for daring to suggest it to you…but then I told myself, why not? It would be a good way to die…”
Buffy looked at her dark lover. “Is that what you want?” she asked softly.
“And you? What do you want?” he replied, sarcastic.
Buffy surrendered.
“What should I do?”
Spike smiled again, after a knowing look at Angelus.
“Get undressed, my love.”



Buffy took off her jeans jacket and her t-shirt. With trembling fingers, she undid her leather pants. Angelus came closer to her, forgetting the champagne. His big strong hands encircled her shoulders, then they moved on to her back, playing with her bra. She gasped: his hands were cold and firm. When she thought about being naked in front of him and Spike together, she was shocked. And her panties became immediately wet.
She felt a strong temptation to run away.
“Buffy…” Angelus whispered, taking her chin with a finger, looking deeply into her eyes with his dark, sweet and impenetrable expression. “Are you scared?”
She nodded.
“You shouldn’t be. We won’t hurt you…well, not much, I suppose.”
She looked away. Angelus told her to bend over, and she waited for him to take off her panties. But, with a soft touch on her bottom, he led her to the bed, near Spike, who looked at her with interest…and with an impenetrable expression in his blue eyes Buffy had seen before, while they were making love.
Spike made her lie next to him, caressing her hair, brushing it back from her hot face. Angelus was wearing only his trousers too, and he undid the top button, while he was lying next to her.
Spike took her face and he began to bite her lips softly. She closed her eyes, enjoying his familiar touch, opening her mouth lo let him come in with his tongue and his teeth. Nobody kissed like Spike.
And nobody touched her like Angelus: his hands were on her breasts, making her nipples harden in relief, brushing them softly with his fingers. Spike’s lips touched her neck and she stiffened, waiting for his teeth. She was nearly naked in that bed, between them…like Harmony. And she felt as helpless as Harmony had been…as spellbound.
But Spike didn’t bite her. His mouth moved on her neck, then over her shoulders, until it stopped on her nipple. Buffy’s lust burned, and she protested with a groan. Then she implored them to take off her panties: she couldn’t stand that wet cotton any more. They satisfied her partly, slipping them down to her ankles. Angelus’ expert, cold lips closed on her clitoris and she completely lost her reason. While he was sucking her, Angelus put one, then two and then three fingers inside her. Buffy cried out, and then she came.
Above her head, the eyes of the two vampires met. That evening was beginning in an interesting way…
When she had calmed down, Angelus smiled to her. “Who do you want first? Buffy, we won’t be offended, whatever your choice will be…”
Buffy gasped. The…first?
She looked at them both.
“Sp…Spike” she stuttered. She had thousands of reasons: he was kinder, more human, they hadn’t made love for a long time (and she missed it)…and, above all, when she was with him her legs didn’t shake as they did when she was with Angelus. He didn’t have the same delicious cruelty…at least, she hoped so.
“Good choice,” Angelus stated, with an obscure light in his eyes. The two vampires had switched on her abat-jour and lit an uncountable quantity of candles. Her sun-kissed skin stood out against the white skin of the two men, particularly Spike’s. “Your first time will be unforgettable.”
My first…what?
Spike took a small tube from a drawer: Buffy recognized it immediately: it was her glycerin hand cream.
“You…you can’t…”
“Don’t you want me to?” Spike asked, arching an eyebrow. “I realise now that I’ve been so negligent concerning your…education.”
Buffy turned pale. They had never talked about that. Nobody had ever talked about that!
“You’ll hurt me…” she lamented softly, half scared and incredibly excited.
“A bit,” Angelus whispered. “But not too much. And Spike will only go in a little way…if it hurts, he’ll stop immediately”
Spike looked at him with an ironical smile. If he didn’t believe that, why was he tricking her?
Neither of them had ever stopped. Ever.
“Promise me.”
“I do,” Spike told her, hoping that she wouldn’t force him to behave like a gentleman.
“Turn around,” Angelus said. She obeyed, and was laid prone. Angelus caressed her bottom, and then, surprising her, he lifted her on to him. His erect penis slid inside her suddenly, surprising and exciting her. Oh…how she had missed him…Buffy bit her lips, her hips shaking.
“I thought…”
“Shh…” Angelus whispered, turning her on one side, staying still inside her, keeping his penetration as deep as he could. Spike lay down on the other side, and rubbed the glycerin over his first and middle finger and on his penis. While he was moving inside her, Angelus was kissing her eyelids, her forehead, her lips. And he whispered obscure words to her, which excited her more. Spike explored her tight hole with a finger, then with two. Her muscles tensed automatically at that invasion, and she gasped.
“I won’t hurt you, love…” Spike said. It was the first time he had had sex since Faith had almost killed him…and making love with Buffy provoked in him an intense emotion he couldn’t deny. Being her first also made him feel proud of himself. And Angelus couldn’t take that away from him…While Angelus’s movements, soft and so exciting, were preparing Buffy for the new invasion, Spike placed his penis against her back entrance. His hands moved to her chest, on her breasts, covering them. Tight between the two vampires, so possessed, Buffy almost didn’t realize the acute pain she felt when he penetrated…until she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Please…you’re hurting me…” she gasped weakly, feeling the huge end of Spike’s penis pushing on her small rigid hole, fighting against her tensed muscles. “You told me you’d stop if…”
With a strong push, Spike penetrated her completely.
Buffy caught her breath. The two vampires possessed her so well: their penises were divided only by a thin membrane, and they were close enough to touch each other. Spike’s penetration was so painful…painful and delicious…tight, elastic, deep. A convulsive pleasure pervaded her. When they started to move simultaneously, she came again: she had never felt such a strong and deep orgasm before.
Then, she fainted in their arms, exhausted.
Spike and Angelus smiled at each other, and their lips touched briefly, with tenderness.


“Open your eyes, my love,” Spike whispered, his face hidden on her neck, in her hair. Buffy realized she must have lost consciousness for a moment. The pleasure…and pain…had been just too intense.
Angelus looked at her. Buffy didn’t know if he had come or not…blood and seminal fluid ran down her legs, but he was still erect. She opened her lips, and both of them wondered what she would say. Would she protest? Would she damn them?
She said only one word; her lips still swollen from their kisses.
“Again…”
Angelus smiled.
He slid out of her, pushing her towards Spike, who took her sweetly and penetrated her in the gentle way he knew best. She moaned, enjoying his kindness, after his painful and exciting assault. His soft pushes excited her again…and when she was totally sensitive to his moves and caresses again, she felt something hard and strong against her butt.
Buffy closed her eyes, asking herself if she could stand another invasion. Angelus slipped inside her, but she offered resistance to him - and she felt pain too- despite the passage Spike had already carved. Her muscles tensed around his erection, and the pleasure drove her crazy again. While they were possessing her alternately, Buffy looked deeply into Spike’s incredibly blue eyes and she saw…she saw something that didn’t demean her as much as she had feared.
They were not just using her.
Despite everything, it wasn’t just sex. Not for the blonde vampire, at least. Nobody could tell what Angelus felt.
Buffy desired something more…she wanted to give them something more than her body. With a docile and unconsciously graceful gesture, she stooped her head and pushed her golden hair back from her neck. Angelus was right behind her, in a perfect position to bite her…and for Spike it would be easy to reach her breast.
Lost in a perfect agony, Buffy saw Spike’s face change, becoming dreadful and beautiful at the same time…and she felt his teeth sinking deep into her nipple to drink her rich, strong blood.
She rolled back her neck, anxious to be kissed by her dark lover too, who was possessing her in such a secret and intimate way…but she was disappointed. Angelus reached his climax, holding her hips and penetrating her deeply, showing no mercy. But he did not transform, and he didn’t bite her at all.
When it was all over, and Buffy was taking a shower, Spike asked him why.
“Why haven’t you tasted her? She was waiting only for that.”
Angelus was lying on the bed, relaxed and naked.
“I’m not defined by my fangs, my friend.”
“What a bloody arrogant fucker you are!” Spike laughed, then - limping- he entered the bathroom. He got into the shower, enjoying the hot water, which warmed his veins, still full of the Slayer’s impetuous blood. Buffy cried out when she saw him, then she braced herself against the cold wall, his hands and his penis were all that held her up.
When they came back, their blood warmed by the pleasant shower, they noticed that Angelus was sad again. Ok, it wasn’t a new thing to him, Spike told himself, but since he was playing with himself, a bit more passion would have been more suitable in that situation.
Buffy looked at him with her big eyes, and then let her towel fall to the ground.
“Do you want to help him, darling?” Spike smiled. “C’mon, as I told you. And while you’re doing that, let’s have that arse of yours. I’ve got something special for you.”
Angelus looked at her. Smiling nervously, she sat on the bed and bent over his erection. Spike was behind her, and he put his face between her legs.
“Be careful with the teeth…” Angelus smiled, forgetting his bad mood.
“Oh, yeah…” she groaned, while Spike was taking her to orgasm again. She was still a bit offended with Angelus because he had refused to taste her…but she didn’t care now. Probably he had his reasons.
Her sweet lips closed around his cold, hard penis, and she took it deep into her throat.


Really exhausted, they fell asleep hours later, but their rest was short and without dreams. Buffy lay naked between them, Angelus’ fingers inside her vagina and Spike’s on her breasts. When vampires slept they were…dead. An unpleasant shiver ran down her back. Her body had been satisfied beyond every single imaginable expectation…in ways she couldn’t even imagine. At a certain point Spike had held her, forbidding her to move, while Angelus beat her with his thong on her butt, on her legs, on her clitoris…even on her breasts, tortured by Spike’s teeth. It wasn’t the first time: Spike had already punished her before…and Buffy was surprised again by her sensitivity to these games. And to the more perverse ones she was led to by Angelus’ soft and ironic eyes: she drew blood from his penis with her nails, enjoying his pain melted with excitement. Buffy tried again to lick her fingers, dirty with blood and seminal fluids…but he stopped her and he sucked them himself, looking at her with his dark eyes.
Buffy Summers was still discovering herself, and she didn’t like everything she found.
At that moment, something woke her up, maybe the dawn that was coming. And something burned inside her…her vaginal muscles stiffened around Angelus’ fingers and she made a soft moan.
“You’re insatiable, darling” Spike told her, opening his eyes lazily. “Is it not enough? Believe me, a vampire wouldn’t have asked for more.”
“Maybe it’s due to my Slayer’s blood.”
“Or to my good education.”
“What a show-off!” she laughed, softly: she didn’t want to wake up Angelus…
…but Angelus was already awakening, and she understood that completely when she felt his fingers moving inside her to reach that small secret place where the pleasure is sweeter.
“Ohhh,” Buffy moaned.
“Shhh,” Angelus said. “Come here.”
Buffy obeyed, spellbound by his dark eyes in his handsome pale face. Angelus held her in his arms, sitting behind her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Buffy asked herself if now was the time…the time to drink her blood.
But he opened her legs softly, crossing them with his, and led her own fingers inside her sex.
While Buffy gasped softly, Spike stood up and put his jeans on.
“Where are you going?” Angelus asked.
“Home…Drusilla is probably wondering where we are. And, in case you hadn’t noticed …the sun is coming up.”
“Don’t stop,” Angelus said to Buffy, and she didn’t. Spike tightened his lips, without saying a word, and took his coat and stick. He couldn’t run with his lame legs, it was late…and he couldn’t stand to see them like that…together.
Buffy closed her eyes, her head was still on Angelus’ shoulder, and he held her softly under her breast with his arm. She breathed fast, excited, and between them there was a deep bond, something that Spike could feel perfectly.
It had been fun while it lasted…but now it was ending. Spike bent over them and kissed Buffy’s lips.
She responded distantly, too focused on her imminent pleasure; Spike smiled, and set off for home.


“William can’t always play along with me,” Angelus said afterwards, while Buffy tidied her room. It was early morning, but the sun was in the sky, and the slayer wondered how he could reach his house.
“Don’t worry about me,” he told her. “Shhhh…sleep a while. It doesn’t matter if you’re late for school, does it?” he smiled.
Angelus put on his black coat and left.
Buffy pulled her sweater around her, feeling suddenly cold in that lonely morning.


It had been an unusual night also for the dark-haired girl who came out from behind the tree in front of the Summers house and set off towards City Hall.
Faith was still trembling. With anger. Excitement. Rage. And unsatisfied lust.
And envy.
Well done B.! Not one, but two vampires who had given you the most intense and illicit pleasure. And that bitch dared to look her up and down!
And Angelus! He refused to fuck her because of that wet blonde doll! A murderous rage invaded Faith. What about being honest, good, loyal and faithful to the mission…if someone got down and dirty with the same creatures she had the holy duty to kill?
She had already decided: they would both have to pay for this. The fake slayer, who had perished a long time ago, like stale pickles; and the black-leather-trousered vampire who had such a huge penis but didn’t know where to put it.
Furious, Faith swore that before the sun rose again, she would taste her vengeance.

13. Seeing Red.

“Drink this, it’s barley coffee - perfect for intestinal regularity.”
Faith looked at the cup with suspicion, then sipped at it, and its pleasant taste surprised her. In the suburbs, where she had lived until she met the Mayor, there was nothing so delicious… a second-rate bourbon at the beginning of the day was probably more common.
“So, Buffy the Vampire Slayer has welcomed into her…ahem, boudoir…two dangerous vampires: Angelus, the Scourge of Europe and William the Bloody. Did they…force her?”
Faith’s expression was incredibly significant.
“Well. Really, Faith, you’ve done a very good job. Now we only have to decide what to do next. We’ll attack them with an original strategy…they will be surprised, you’ll see. We just have to wait for the right occasion…and we need Buffy far away.”
“And Darla?” Faith asked.
The Mayor smiled. “That’s the best part…Darla can’t do anything at all. And she can’t blame us: she said it herself, her goal is the same as ours. She wouldn’t dare to complain.” Wilkins bent to look deeply into Faith’s eyes. “I just want to get rid of those two vampires. Is that asking too much?”
“What is your plan, boss?” the girl asked, wringing her hands instinctively. “Stake? Crossbow? Shall we set their decadent, pretty mansion on fire?”
“The books I’ve given you are so good for you, Faith, really! Your vocabulary is clearly improving.” The Mayor smiled, pleased. “But I was thinking about something more artistic than that…I’m sure that your obstinate friend, Angelus, will enjoy the poetry of it.” Wilkins pushed the intercom button. “Finch, come into my office immediately.”
Faith stared imperturbably, eating a pastry, at the mayor’s assistant - a good-looking young man – as he entered the office.
“Open the dimensional line…you know which one.”
Finch nodded, though his forehead was covered in sweat, due to stress.
From a little square box that looked like a remote control came a stream of static current which became a portal. Amazed, Faith saw a tall man stepping out from the portal: he was dressed in a dark cowl that covered his face.
“You called, master?” His voice, deep and raucous, disturbed Faith’s tranquillity. Finch was clearly completely terrified.
“Have you got that little thing I’ve asked you about?” the mayor asked in his sweet and reassuring voice.
The mysterious man nodded, then he placed on the mayor’s desk a little bottle filled with a dark fluid.
He bowed and entered back into the portal, which disappeared with a “pouf”.
“It’s more convenient than UPS …and cheaper, too,” Wilkins stated with a smile. “Now, my dear, let me explain my plan…”


Anxious not to meet, Willow and Xander ran into each other between the maths and the history rooms.
“This is getting more and more ridiculous,” the guy protested. “You’re avoiding me since that night at the Bronze…and you’re my best friend, Willow!”
“Shh, keep your voice down -” terrified, Willow glanced around, looking for Oz. They still hadn’t met that morning.
“Why? People would be surprised by the fact that we’re talking?”
“People would be surprised by the fact that you’re holding my hand Xan” she replied, without freeing it.
“You’re doing the same” he added in a low voice.
“Please, stop…” she begged him.
“Let’s go somewhere else for a minute. I know where…the first few times with Cordelia we always hid in a closet.”
Willow looked at him, surprised. As far as she remembered, two seconds after he had dismissed Buffy, Xander became Cordelia’s official boyfriend. Then, she understood…
“No…”
“C’mon”
Despite herself, Willow followed him into a nearby closet. There was an awful smell of dust in there. Xander pushed her against the yellow wall more rudely than he wanted, and put his hands under her blouse. Willow held her breath…but she didn’t protest. When he bent over her lips she opened them…but her mind was full of questions. What would happen if Oz and Cordelia had seen them? And if Buffy…if, if, if, if…
“We must stop” she whispered, with swollen lips, tousled hair and her bra undone. Xander looked at her, and, with a resolution she had never known, he put his hands under her skirt.
“No!” Willow cried out, then she bit her lip. Confused, she picked up her books and stepped out of the closet.
“Hey!” Oz greeted her, just around the corner.
“Don’t touch me, I’ve got the flu!” she tried to justify.
“Ah…now I understand why you look so…flushed?”
Willow tidied up her sweater as she came into the IT lab. That was the so scary…and so longed for day…she had to replace the IT teacher.


After the first five minutes of fear, Willow relaxed; she tried to forget her undone bra, helped in that by her loose sweater. The subject was easy, Miss Calendar’s instructions were even easier, and everything went even better than she had hoped. Nobody was nasty to her and everyone respected her authority. Everything was going extremely well, until Miss Calendar came back.
Willow became sad: her moment of glory had been spoiled.
Jenny looked at her impassively, and started the lesson from the point Willow had stopped. She left the teacher’s desk sadly, and all the things she had done wrong in the last few days came into her mind: her secret affair with Xander, the lies she had told Oz, the secret file she had copied, her reticence to speak with Buffy.
And she couldn’t even end her stand-in in peace.
Jenny Calendar relaxed only when she was alone again, in her lab, in front of her pc. Her journey to L.A had been very useful, but the things she had learned from her people had filled her heart with restlessness.
The action she was planning was not only doubtful and maybe useless…but it was also dreadfully dangerous. Jenny was a beautiful, intelligent and extremely modern woman…but when her people’s blood was shed, instinctively she turned back to her people, their traditions, and their stories. She knew they were proud of her…but she also knew they hadn’t forgiven her reticence or fear. Only the mission was important. And she didn’t feel so different from that bold blonde girl, the Slayer. She was just more conscious.
Rubbing her eyes, tired due to the long night trip, she went on with her translation, without knowing that someone else was doing the same thing in the next classroom, with a little English- Romanian dictionary and a lot of cheek…



“Buffy? Would you concentrate please?”
“What?” the girl answered, raising her head from her researches. Giles was looking at her with worried - and unaware - eyes.
“You look tired today,” her watcher noticed. “Did you get home late last night?”
“Ah-ah.” Buffy nodded, feeling so tired and aching…in the most private and secret parts of her body; and empty, with no more energy and emotion left. She had fought a long battle with herself during those days…and she was brilliantly losing it.
“What about your researches on Angelus? Have you found his hiding place?”
“What? Angelus…no. Nothing to do with that.”
“Go back to Willy’s tonight…if you’re feeling better. Maybe he could have some news for you.”
“Maybe” Buffy admitted flatly. “Mr. Giles” she said then raising her eyes, proved by the previous night’s events. “Have you ever heard about…bad slayers?”
“What do you mean?” Giles enquired. “Ah, I see. You’re talking about Faith. A slayer devoted to evil forces”
“Yeah…but not just that” Buffy explained. “I mean…in general…in the Slayers’ history. Have you ever heard about slayers…attracted by vampires?”
Giles took off his glasses and began to clean them actively.
“You have been reading the Watcher Diaries once again, have you?”
“I shouldn’t have to do that, right?”
“Maybe…and maybe not. Buffy, everyone - at the end of the story - is responsible for their own actions…and only for that.”
“I agree” the girl admitted passionately. “But I’m just curious to know if that’s a typical slayer feature…or if it’s common only for some among them…being in l…attracted by the same creatures they’ve sworn to defeat. Like…models and skinniness, dancers…and homosexuality.”
Giles sighed. “To be honest, yes, sometimes that has happened.”
“And…how did it end up?”
Giles looked at her. “Always in a bad way. Usually the vamp has killed, or turned the slayer. And vampire-slayers have never been good…most of the times they went crazy like…crazy horses”
“Ah” Buffy stated, shaken. “Has this happened…often?”
“Twice during this Century”
“Oh God”
“Buffy…why are you asking me all these questions?” Giles asked. “Has a vampire tried to seduce you?”
“Who? Me? No…I was merely curious Mr. Giles. You know…if you know your enemy…”
“Well” Giles admitted. He felt dreadfully like Joyce in that respect, but sometimes he preferred not to know. And, plus, he was sure he didn’t have anything to fear with Buffy. Since the first moment she had demonstrated herself to be an unusual slayer, but she was also a top quality one. No, he had nothing to fear.
She knew her mission very well.
“Remember to go to Willy’s” he told her, as she went home.
“Ok” she nodded lazily. Giles’ words had really depressed her. She began to believe she was being condemned to an unavoidable destiny…whose future could be only death, or vampirism, or insanity…or all these three things together.
She thought about Spike’s warning words.
And then she thought about the previous night.
And then she told herself that - if only the prospect hadn’t excited her so much, she could have tried to find someone to punish her, and soon, to free her from her unbearable feeling of guilt.


Evening time in Sunnydale: and the night seemed quiet. The small fry kept their distance when the big ones came out to play, Spike thought. Since the war that had opposed Darla and Faith and Angelus and the other vampires from the Aurelius Order, the young demons and vampires had moved out of Sunnydale to find food in the rural centres and in the towns nearby, far from the Hellmouth. It was a simple natural law, after all.
Drusilla whimpered all day long, and she even irritated the usually so-patient Spike. Angelus had locked himself in his bedroom and didn’t move from it: he was probably in a very bad mood. When darkness fell on the town, Drusilla insisted they should go out together. She didn’t want to stay alone another night. She had accepted Spike’s weak excuses, without investigating further, and she didn’t ask anything of Angelus: she was insane, but not stupid, and she could keep her distance from her sire when he was such in a bad mood. But now she had become intransigent.
Angelus came out from his room at night, all dressed in black, and appeared next to Dru. He held his hand out to her, like a devoted knight, and she went to him like a queen, his queen. Spike raised his eyes to the sky and put his stick away: the previous night, despite all its contradictions, had given him his strength back. He thought it was due to the amazing Slayer’s blood…and her sweet womanliness.
He avoided other considerations, in order to enjoy his physical well-being completely. He knew this was not the right time to think about anything else.
And so, without saying a word, they went out. And they smelled- just for their pleasure- the sweet spring air.
“Where are we going?” Spike asked, lighting up a cigarette.
“To the Bronze” Angelus said, taking Dru’s arm. Slowly they walked to the club, dressed in black, handsome and lethal. The few people still around moved away instinctively, letting them pass.
Spike didn’t want to object, but he knew that Buffy was probably in the club, and Angelus knew that too.
What would Buffy do if she saw them slay?
What she had to do. Both of them knew that.
Suddenly, the air around them became tense. Over the main street of that small town fell a deep silence…and some shutters were closed immediately.
The three vampires stopped in front of the cinema, on the alert.
“Buffy?” Spike asked in a low voice.
Angelus smiled. “Don’t be silly. Darla.”
“Love, I’m so bored” said a woman’s voice, sweet and rehearsed, on the other side of the road. Angelus didn’t move, with his fists closed, and an alert expression. Darla wore a pair of elegant black leather trousers and a lamé top. “Always together. For centuries. I couldn’t stand it anymore”
“Your tastes have become worse, Darla…as has your company” Angelus lamented.
“Where is your pathetic slayer? Giving blow jobs to the first vampire she meets?”
“What do you mean?” Darla asked, knitting her eyebrows.
“Your protégée tried to fuck me.”
Darla laughed. “And so? That means she has good taste…”
“Could we finish this?” Spike said. “It’s a bit late and I’m hungry. If you don’t mind, I’ll go on ahead with Dru while you rehearse the last scene from the Bergman film, all right?”
“Spike’s right, I have to admit,” Angelus stated. “You’re behaving like an old neglected wife. Move aside and let me through, darling, because I refuse to pay your maintenance”
“Shh…” Drusilla whispered, walking next to her. “Daddy is so angry today. And he smells of ash…you smell of ground and flowers…isn’t that wonderful?”
“Stop, Dru” Darla stopped her with an arm. “Nobody moves from here. Alive.”
A dozen vampires came out from behind Darla.
“Oh, oh, I’m so scared” Spike smiled, throwing the fag end over his shoulder.
“What the hell do you want, Darla?” Angelus asked her, furious. “How many of your frivolous vampires do I have to dust before you understand that it’s over?”
Darla raised a hand…and she made a little, so little gesture.
And the attack began.
Drusilla was surrounded by three vampires, but she defended herself well despite her skinniness. When she had to she could fight like a lioness, and she had proved that more that once. Sure about that, Spike joined the fray, grateful to the slayer for the gift she had given him: her amazing blood, which still ran impetuously in his veins. His leg was still hurting, but he wouldn’t surrender in front of four teenage vampires. Angelus had taken from his sleeve a little deadly stake, and he was killing all his enemies with it. Darla was just watching…and only when she realized that only three of her vampires had survived, did she decide to attack Angelus directly herself.
“Just like the good old days, darling” he laughed. “You and me…in an alley”
“Stop it Angelus” she replied, furious. “I’ve lived more than one hundred years without you…and I’ll go ahead alone if it’s necessary. You wanted it.”
“Yeah…you told me you would show me the world, love…as far as dives and filthiness go, there are no doubts, but…”
Angelus’ sarcastic smile disappeared suddenly, more in surprise than in pain.
On the roof of the cinema, above the square, Faith stood smiling, so beautiful with her angel face and a bow in her hand. A Diana from the suburbs.
The arrow she let loose had perfectly reached its target.

Everything slowed down.
Angelus touched his chest, putting his fingers around the wooden arrow. Drusilla cried out…a long, modulated banshee cry that froze the blood in the dead vampires’ veins. Spike stopped his own fight and ran to help his grandsire, dusting another servant of Darla in his way though the square.
Darla stopped short; her eyes were full of dread.
Angelus was falling.
His three old companions were waiting for him to turn to dust in a moment.
But it didn’t happen.
He fell to the ground, without saying a word: his eyes were lost in the dark of that spring night.
“Damn, she missed him!” cried one of the vampires. Faith smiled, then she disappeared.
Darla stood there, looking at him…then she looked across at Drusilla. They had lived together too many seasons not to understand. Faith had hit her target perfectly.
Simply, she had never intended to kill him with the stake. Probably she had something worse in mind.
“Quick, we must get him away from here!” Spike shouted, trying to support the vampire in his arms. It was difficult, but he could pick him up at last.
Darla came closer, looking at them with a shocked expression. “I…I didn’t want…”
“What didn’t you want?” Spike replied. “To dust him? Yeah, you couldn’t do that, despite the continuous attempts of your followers. Not yet.”
Darla called her men back. “Let me stay with him, Spike! Damn it, he’s my childe!”
“Leave, Darla, or I’ll kill you” Spike threatened her, struggling to hold Angelus, who was a dead weight.
“Shh” Drusilla said, her eyes full of tears. “You’ve been so nasty, grandma, really too much…and daddy will not forgive you. There’s no time left for you…don’t you understand? There’s no more time for anybody!”
“Dru, stop it and…help me!” Spike broke the rear window of a car with a violent gesture. The alarm started to ring, but nobody came. Spike opened the car door, slid Angelus into the back seat, and swiftly went to hot-wire the engine. When Drusilla was next to him, her hands like nervous little birds on Angelus’ sweaty forehead, the car started.
Darla stood in the square, surrounded by the few vampires that had survived, her eyes full of tears.
Not like that…damn, not like that!
She told herself that the Mayor and Faith would have to pay for that, but first she had to discover what had caused Angelus to lose consciousness. The arrow itself was not enough, even if it had been close to the heart.
Faith had probably used a poison.



After a boring evening in the seven cemeteries of the town, Buffy went unenthusiastically to Willie’s, the worst dive of that lousy town. Doing the same things over and over - patrolling … killing…asking for information - relaxed her mind, too tired to ask herself “why” without finding an answer. As she entered the little, smoky room, something, maybe her instinct, told her immediately that there was something extremely wrong in the air. First of all, the bar was empty.
Willy turned pale when she saw her.
“Be quiet Slayer, it’s not a good evening. Big things are happening in town”
“Tell me or I…”
“Don’t waste your breath in threats. There is not one demon or a vampire left in town. And the ones who are left are helping Darla, the protégée of the Master”
“Why?” Buffy’s eyes glowed as she heard that so hated name.
“Tonight Darla attacked the Scourge…Angelus. And his companions, William the Bloody and Drusilla”
Buffy turned pale immediately. “Where? When?”
“Downtown, near the cinema. And, before you run…it’s better if you know that your friend, the other slayer, has brilliantly done half of the job”
“What?…” Buffy felt sick. It couldn’t be…
“She hit Angelus…well. We can say he deserved that. Coming to this town, putting on so many airs, trying to rule Sunnydale as the Master did…”
“Angelus…is dead?”
“Well, he’s surely not alive” Willy laughed, while Buffy fell on to a chair, careless of the filthiness of the place. “I mean…he’s a vampire…”
In a minute, Buffy stood up and she took him by the scruff of the neck.
“Speak, or I knock your head off. What happened to Angelus?”
“Relax Slayer, relax…I didn’t know you’d be so angry because your colleague arrived before you. She hit Angelus with a poisoned arrow…”
“What kind of poison? What are the consequences?”
“What do you think? He’ll die”
“Poison doesn’t kill vampires” Buffy replied, fighting to hold back the tears and to catch her breath again. Her heart was beating furiously and fast.
“This one, yes. It’s called ‘The killer of the Dead’ and it’s lethal for vampires. It will last for a couple of hours…maybe five or six. At dawn he will be dead. And he’ll become ash”
“There must be a cure…” she whispered, incapable of hiding her emotions.
“No cure at all. Hey, why are you so worried? You should be happy!”
Buffy hit the filthy barman right on the nose, and ran away. She couldn’t think….there was a single thought in her mind. She couldn’t let him die. She wasn’t ready to live in that world without him. And if that was turning her into a dreadful person…well she didn’t give a damn. She would find a cure, immediately, and then she would help him…even if she had to die.
When she arrived in the residential neighbourhood, she could hardly prevent herself from going straight to the mansion in Crawford Street to be with him. The cure…Giles. No, impossible. Giles would never help her to save the Scourge of Europe, even if she told him Angelus was her lov...lover.
Buffy gasped. There was only one person left: Willow.
Oh, Willow must help her. She would beg her…if necessary, she would threaten to tell everybody what she had done at Miss Calendar’s pc. Buffy ran to her friend’s house and desperately knocked at the door. Willow opened it with a sleepy face, probably already ready to go to bed.
Buffy closed the door behind her, and turned on the light.
“Willow…get dressed. We have to go to the Library”


“I still don’t know what we’re looking for. And, Buffy, if you haven’t realized …I still don’t know why we are looking for something”
“Listen to me” Buffy said, looking into her eyes. “It’s up to you now. I’ve broken into the school and into Mr. Giles’ office, plus, I’ve broken a window too. If they find us they’ll expel me…and I don’t give a damn. You must help me”
“I’m helping you” Willow yawned. “I’m here with you in the middle of the night. But I still don’t know why”
“Willow…do you remember the two guys I was dating? William and…the other one?”
“Sure, but..”
“Willow…they’re two vampires. Two powerful, ancient and famous vampires”
Her friend looked at her without saying a word: she was paying attention, at last.
“And…Willow…I fell in love” Buffy covered her face with her hands. “I’m a fool, I know that, but I can’t do anything to change it. Tonight Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, has been hit with a deadly poisoned arrow. The poison is called “the Killer of the Dead”. He’ll turn into ash in a couple of hours. And I can’t stand that…Willow, you must help me. If he dies…I don’t know what I will do”
Willow tried to speak …but she couldn’t.
“We’re not talking about Good and Evil. And not even about what’s right or wrong”, Buffy told her, crying. “It’s just about what I’m feeling now. I can’t let him die…and you’re my friend, you must help me. I died for mankind. Every night I slay against evil. But this time I have to think about me and my feelings. I…I must do everything I can to save his life. Willow, I would even threaten you. I…”
A glitter passed through Willow’s eyes. “Shhh…don’t threaten me Buffy” she whispered in a low voice. Then, she took the hand of her friend. “I’ll help you…you should know that. Do you think I could?”
Buffy nodded. “No one else could. Willow, only you know Mr. Giles’ books and all the things he hides from us. How could I convince him to help me? I couldn’t”
“No, you couldn’t, really” Willow admitted: she was already thinking about how to face this new challenge. Save a dangerous vampire…demonstrating once again that she wasn’t Miss Nobody but someone powerful. Someone unexpectedly powerful. Instinctively, she began thinking about what to do.
“You’ll have to break open that card-index holder, and also that wooden closet in the corner down there. Giles keeps his most dangerous books in it”
Buffy did it, without wasting any time. Now, she was only thinking about reaching Crawford Street. Willow would look for a cure in the books until she had found it…and she would take care of Angelus. Now that Willow was on her side Buffy felt hope again, stronger and more vital than before. Tomorrow she would have to justify the break-in to Mr. Giles: that wasn’t a problem.
The problem was to find a cure.
She turned back to thank Willow, but she was already deep in the books, frenetically engrossed in reading.
Cheered up, Buffy ran to Crawford Street.



As soon as she arrived in front of the big house, the slayer saw she was not alone. Darla was walking up and down nervously in front of the backyard door. Foolish with madness, Buffy attacked her, putting a stake on her heart.
“Give me just one reason why I shouldn’t kill you...here and now! You damn murderer! If Angelus dies, you’ll be the guilty one!”
Darla looked at her and Buffy was shocked to see her blue eyes filled with tears.
“It wasn’t my fault. It was Faith…that jealous, envious bitch!”
“But you put her against him!” Buffy pushed the stake deeper against her chest. A blood drop spoiled the lamé top Darla was wearing and she gasped.
“No…you don’t understand! I could dust him…but this…”
Buffy drew back: not because Darla was really telling the truth: she thought instead that only Angelus had the right to dust her.
But Angelus had to be cured first.
“Why don’t you look for a cure Darla, instead of standing here like a useless ghost? If you have some resources, God, use them!”
“They won’t let me in” the vampire whispered. “Spike…Dru…they won’t let me see him”
“Damn you!” furious, Buffy freed her with a push. Darla fell slowly to the ground, suddenly robbed of her usual poise and dignity. Ignoring her, Buffy entered the backyard. Spike noticed her and stopped her at the entrance. From there, Buffy could see - in the candlelight – Dru, who was bending over her sire, lying on a small bed, probably brought down from the upper floor.
“This is not the right time, Buffy. Angelus…”
“Let me pass” she growled. “I will take care of him. Don’t stand in my way and I’ll let you stay around…and alive. But tell your crazy girlfriend to leave now”
Spike sighed. “You can’t take Dru away from her sire. And I advise you to go back home to your own bed. This is not your world, Buffy…it’s not your family. It’s ours.”
“Spike, don’t force me to…”
“Buffy, I’ve told you twice: go away”
They looked into each other’s eyes. Buffy threw him across to the other side of the hall with a kick. Spike stood up, shaking his head. He realised he would get a stake right through his heart if he tried to keep Buffy away from Angelus that night. He rubbed at his stomach while Buffy came closer to Drusilla. The blonde slayer was shorter and skinnier than Dru…but she could be as lethal. Drusilla hissed at her like a cat.
“Watch out Slayer. I see only death around your head…death and ash and small fishes… “
Buffy took a stake out from her jeans. Drusilla started to shake. Suddenly Buffy understood she wasn’t scared…there were forces in the air that night that overcame knowledge and her consciousness…but Dru could feel them, in a certain way.
“Go now” Buffy said, kinder. “I’ll take care of him. Take Spike and go upstairs to your room”
Dru continued moaning. Spike came over and put his hand on her head: Dru immediately looked better. Spike and Buffy looked at each other with one of their usual complicit glances. Buffy almost smiled. Simply, he knew her. And she began to think that this could never change.
Alone with Angelus, Buffy sat down next to his bed and put her hand on his cold forehead, which was covered with beads of sweat. He was delirious. Once he regained consciousness momentarily…and he was surprised when he saw her sitting next to him.
“Buffy…what’s this? Why are you here?...why am I so…weak?”
“Shhh…” she whispered, holding his hands. “Someone hit you. We’re looking for a cure. Believe me, you’ll be better soon”
“Buffy…it’s so dark…”
“Yes, I know” she admitted, fighting to hold back her tears. It was really dark, despite Drusilla’s candles. And the hours of the night were endless.
In the deserted library, in the dark and silent school, Willow was fighting the boundaries of her mind and ambition.
And the dawn, the dawn of death which was waiting for Angelus was too close.



Willy had told her five or six hours…and seven had already passed. Angelus had been hit at eight o’clock in the evening…and he was still alive, due to his great inner strength. More and more weak, more and more absent…but alive. Minutes were passing slowly, and Buffy could feel them on her skin as if they were years.
When her cellphone rang it was ten to four in the morning.
Buffy found it hard to open it, due to her stress and fatigue.
“Willow” Buffy had to repeat herself: she was so emotional that she spoke too softly.
“Willow, talk to me”
Maybe there was no more hope. Maybe Willow had surrendered.
But Willow’s voice was full of an unfamiliar feeling…which had many characteristics in common with the hubris of the Greeks.
“Buffy, I’ve found the cure.”
Buffy’s heart stopped.
Angelus was immovable in front of her, and he was so pale…like a perfect corpse. Buffy held back a sigh.
“I found the cure!” Willow said again, openly exultant. Then, her voice sank to a whisper.
“I can’t hear you Willow!” Buffy cried, at last, upset. “Louder! Speak louder!”
Willow voice became finally sharp and distinct.
“I said I found the cure Buffy. But…I don’t think you’ll like it”

14. Fool for love

The night was immovable. The typical quiet before the tempest.
Willow was spying the hardly noticeable changing of the darkness from her bedroom’s window. Strangely she wasn’t asking herself what Buffy was doing. She was thinking about the fact that the human eye couldn’t perceive the infinite changes that used to occur during the passage from dark to daylight.
And maybe it was even harder notice when the daylight began to turn into the dark…

Or understand that what you’ve always taken from granted was just an illusion. Darla broke the last residence furniture and then she sat on the floor; her hands were bleeding. She knew Faith wasn’t there. That lousy little bitch was probably with the bastard dirty old dear Mayor. But the rage that was torturing her wasn’t due to them…

He couldn’t know exactly where such a torment came from: maybe from the endless agony of his grandsire, or from the fact that Buffy was still downstairs taking care of him…or from the convulsions Drusilla was suffering from, whimpering and struggling, despite he was holding and cradling in his arms her since hours. It’s like I’m floating on a sea without shores, Spike told himself.

He was floating on a clammy and thick ocean; bitter molasses that forbade him to move, to think…and then, someone came…hot, nearly burning skin…Someone who was shaking him rudely, regardless to the waves of that clammy ocean…
Angelus opened his eyes, suddenly sober. Inside he was frightened, because he knew lucidity used to come when the end was approaching.
Buffy was in front of him: she gasped and her hair were messy. So she hadn’t been just a dream…A kind of ancestral instinct for survival invaded him: gasping, he pushed her away and he got out of bed, falling on his knees…the red hole the arrow had made was shining on his chest and it was surrounded by purple veins. He could feel it, the poison was winning, and it wanted he was aware of that…
With an immense effort he stood up and he stumbled until the fireplace. “Are you here to end what your companion started...?” he asked Buffy, holding on with his hands. The deadly poison had infected his back also, penetrating inside his tattoo. “Or are you here just to watch? Sit down then…it’s coming…”
She forced him to turn around and he was amazed by her expression. She was crying, like in that supposed dream he had made before, and he thought those tears were for him…she taken away her hair from her neck and then she nodded. “Do it. Bite me Angelus…My blood is the cure. I’ll save you”
The lucidity…that lucidity that announced him his death…maybe it was leaving him…
“What?”
Buffy smiled softly, an incoherent smile on her desperate face. “It’s logic…You taught me that: vampires and slayers are the same, because they’re bounded with the same power. Blood. Only the slayer’s blood can cure a vampire…” she came closer, offering her soft neck as it was a fruit. “It’s logic. It’s right”
Oh yeah…Angelus came closer instinctively...yeah, it was weird but logic… “I won’t stop…if I bite you I won’t stop…do you know that, right?”
Her little hands were brushing his chest, stopping sweetly on his wound. “I know”
“You’ll die…” he insisted weakly, without knowing why. The roars of the dark ocean were shouting in his ears…louder and louder…
“To die…” Once again he was amazed by the steadiness of her eyes.
“Every time you kiss me I wish I could die…every time you touch me…every time you’re inside me…” She looked at him, steady, sure. “I love you Angelus”
Finally she told him. And she had never been so sure of her words before. So sure of herself, like she turned on the true Buffy, the real one, only at that time. She was in love with him, yeah. Maybe it happened immediately, when she saw his old portrait for the first time. Or maybe it was due to his unique musk scent, mixed with other secret essences. Maybe it hadn’t occurred in a precise moment, but even before he arrived, during her lonely patrolling, she had flirted with the night, knowing that the darkness was bringing him in her life. And when Willow revealed her that the cure for The Killer of the Dead was her blood, well…this perfection almost moved her.
Angelus was faltering and he looked at her amazed. Buffy caught his face. “I love you, do you understand?” she cried, pulling him closer. “I love you and I’ll die to show you that!”
With a sense of relief, she felt that he turned under her hands. “Good boy…” she whispered him, sweet as a mother. “Good boy…like that…Close your eyes…Close your golden eyes…”
She led him until her neck and the pain was immediate, waited but unexpectedly intense. She felt his teeth slashing her skin, penetrating in her neck for all their length and she felt also her warm blood dripping from her shoulder. Everything lasted for a moment, because Angelus held her more strongly and he bate her deeper with a violent push…and all the pain was erased by something purer and more incomprehensible. Ecstasy. Even if it was a quite miserable word…
They fell down, the vampire and the slayer. Buffy looked for something to fix her eyes on, but she couldn’t see anything. All Buffy’s nerve terminations were focused on Angelus’ teeth and mouth, and there wasn’t space for anything else apart that switch of death and life between them. He was getting more and more strong, and now he was sucking her blood moving his head and growling like a predator that enjoyed his meal. That low and sensual sound, so catlike and animal, excited her too much. She opened her legs putting them around his pelvis; her nipples were firm and she hugged to him arching her body and her neck, putting her nails inside his nape…because she wanted to be taken completely, be dried…If that was the death, she wanted go on with it…go on…
…go on my love, go on…don’t stop…you’ve promised me, don’t stop…
That wasn’t just feeding. It wasn’t a way to cure neither. Angelus was sucking that full of life blonde little creature and it was like getting drunk, like feeling a constant, dazzling stream of adrenaline and pleasure…none of his countless victims had ever reacted such completely to his bite…with no one he had shivered….shivered with emotion…he sucked and sucked her, tasting her…Hoping that…that it never ended. That…
But the switch, the usual, very well known switch occurred, in time and unmerciful. Buffy’s hug stopped, her blood pressure slowed down. Angelus raised his head, rubbing his forehead against her temple, covered with cold sweat drops…her heart was stopping and her green eyes were glassy and misty, her lips were opened and waxen…
Kill her or turn her, the vampire thought, now, immediately, these are the only two possibilities…the only ones. The most reasonable ones…he looked at her under his body, pale, too pale: her hair were strewn over the floor, her face had a childish expression, but he could already see in it the woman she was…
The most reasonable…reasonable…
With a sudden move he went away from her and he stood up, strong and full of energy again. His desperate cry echoed in the mansion. “Spike! Damn! Spike!”

In more than a century of non-life he had seen a huge quantity of absurd things. Really absurd ones. To begin with, he was forced to get out from his grave with his own hands.
It was rather impossible to surpass this one. Rather. Until that day, at least.
Until the day he was forced to help his grandsire to bring one of his victims to the hospital…
Spike lighted up his cigarette and a couple of patients that were walking up and down the squalid pale green corridor, looked at him in a really bad way. He just ignored them. He could really put out his fag on the forehead of the first bloke who dared to reproach him.
But he pushed it under his boot as soon as he saw Angelus coming next to a doctor. She was talking passionately to him and, bloody hell, Spike could understand her. With that badly buttoned up white shirt, the uncombed hair and a so sincere tense expression, Angelus looked perfectly like what he pretended to be. The older brother of Elisabeth O’Connor. A panic-stricken handsome guy.
Or he was playing better than De Niro or it was the first case of vampire occupied by a supernatural entity. Spike chose the second one. Because, bloody hell, there was something different in Angelus, in his tired way he walked towards him, in his so human way he was kneading his neck and rubbing his eyes…black and troubling eyes, yes, but…but…
“How’s Buffy?” he asked him.
“Fine. Being a slayer means that she is already ok. The doctor says that she’ll be discharged in an hour…” the other answered, sitting down on a little plastic couch against the wall, and smiling with…relief?
Spike looked at him, shocked. “Maybe you have that poison still in your veins. You’re the Scourge of Europe, do you remember? And you brought her to the hospital…have you got it? To the hospital…” his voice lowed down, skeptical.
“Stop repeating that like a parrot” Angelus replied, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not def…”
Spike bent in front of him. “No, you’re not def. And you’re not…you’re not yourself, fuck it. You don’t do this kind of things.”
Finally Angelus looked at him. “Yeah, I saved her…and you’re happy, don’t deny that”
Spike shut up and he clenched his teeth. Of course he was, damn.
Few hours before, when he found Buffy who looked like a corpse, so cold and pale, he wanted to kill his grandsire…then he felt surprised when Angelus took her in his arms forbidding him to come closer, holding her like a precious. A fast and peremptory order: “Take the car. Hurry up”. And an angry roar against Drusilla, who tried to protest softly.
Dru…he felt a bit guilty with her…he didn’t care about her reaction. He didn’t care about anything. Except rescue Buffy.
He admitted it. “Yes, it’s obvious I’m glad…But we’re not talking about that”
Angelus laughed, shaking his head. “Well, that’s clear…Let’s analyzing my contradictions. Ok. But let’s not talking about yours…”he looked so tired. “The day is coming…the car we’ve come here with, the one you stole downtown, it’s not good for us…call someone of our people and tell him to come here with a black window car. Then take Buffy home. Her mom should have been already gone, but be discreet”
“Wait…I take her home?” Spike stood up, confused. “Only me? And where are you going?”
“I’ve something to do” Angelus answered, crossing his arms; his dark eyes were fixing an empty space.
“Something to do? Like? Shopping under the sun?” Spike asked. No, it was too much, it was ridiculous. And he also told him to be discreet…! He stood in front of him, legs spread, hands on his hips, waiting for an explication.
“William” Nothing else. Only his real name, pronounced with measured, controlled and evident anger. Angelus didn’t call him by his name often, and not with that tone. If that happened, it meant that he should be really really annoyed.
The blonde vampire surrendered. “Ok. Ok, as you wish, my king” he took his mobile from his pocket and he went nervously to the toilet, to make the call- and probably to smoke a dozen of cigarettes- in peace. When he was near the corner, he turned around: Angelus was still sitting on the little plastic couch, in the same position.
Maybe the real poison is the Slayer’s blood, Spike thought.

14. Fool for love

The night was immovable. The typical quiet before the tempest.
Willow was spying the hardly noticeable changing of the darkness from her bedroom’s window. Strangely she wasn’t asking herself what Buffy was doing. She was thinking about the fact that the human eye couldn’t perceive the infinite changes that used to occur during the passage from dark to daylight.
And maybe it was even harder notice when the daylight began to turn into the dark…

Or understand that what you’ve always taken from granted was just an illusion. Darla broke the last residence furniture and then she sat on the floor; her hands were bleeding. She knew Faith wasn’t there. That lousy little bitch was probably with the bastard dirty old dear Mayor. But the rage that was torturing her wasn’t due to them…

He couldn’t know exactly where such a torment came from: maybe from the endless agony of his grandsire, or from the fact that Buffy was still downstairs taking care of him…or from the convulsions Drusilla was suffering from, whimpering and struggling, despite he was holding and cradling in his arms her since hours. It’s like I’m floating on a sea without shores, Spike told himself.

He was floating on a clammy and thick ocean; bitter molasses that forbade him to move, to think…and then, someone came…hot, nearly burning skin…Someone who was shaking him rudely, regardless to the waves of that clammy ocean…
Angelus opened his eyes, suddenly sober. Inside he was frightened, because he knew lucidity used to come when the end was approaching.
Buffy was in front of him: she gasped and her hair were messy. So she hadn’t been just a dream…A kind of ancestral instinct for survival invaded him: gasping, he pushed her away and he got out of bed, falling on his knees…the red hole the arrow had made was shining on his chest and it was surrounded by purple veins. He could feel it, the poison was winning, and it wanted he was aware of that…
With an immense effort he stood up and he stumbled until the fireplace. “Are you here to end what your companion started...?” he asked Buffy, holding on with his hands. The deadly poison had infected his back also, penetrating inside his tattoo. “Or are you here just to watch? Sit down then…it’s coming…”
She forced him to turn around and he was amazed by her expression. She was crying, like in that supposed dream he had made before, and he thought those tears were for him…she taken away her hair from her neck and then she nodded. “Do it. Bite me Angelus…My blood is the cure. I’ll save you”
The lucidity…that lucidity that announced him his death…maybe it was leaving him…
“What?”
Buffy smiled softly, an incoherent smile on her desperate face. “It’s logic…You taught me that: vampires and slayers are the same, because they’re bounded with the same power. Blood. Only the slayer’s blood can cure a vampire…” she came closer, offering her soft neck as it was a fruit. “It’s logic. It’s right”
Oh yeah…Angelus came closer instinctively...yeah, it was weird but logic… “I won’t stop…if I bite you I won’t stop…do you know that, right?”
Her little hands were brushing his chest, stopping sweetly on his wound. “I know”
“You’ll die…” he insisted weakly, without knowing why. The roars of the dark ocean were shouting in his ears…louder and louder…
“To die…” Once again he was amazed by the steadiness of her eyes.
“Every time you kiss me I wish I could die…every time you touch me…every time you’re inside me…” She looked at him, steady, sure. “I love you Angelus”
Finally she told him. And she had never been so sure of her words before. So sure of herself, like she turned on the true Buffy, the real one, only at that time. She was in love with him, yeah. Maybe it happened immediately, when she saw his old portrait for the first time. Or maybe it was due to his unique musk scent, mixed with other secret essences. Maybe it hadn’t occurred in a precise moment, but even before he arrived, during her lonely patrolling, she had flirted with the night, knowing that the darkness was bringing him in her life. And when Willow revealed her that the cure for The Killer of the Dead was her blood, well…this perfection almost moved her.
Angelus was faltering and he looked at her amazed. Buffy caught his face. “I love you, do you understand?” she cried, pulling him closer. “I love you and I’ll die to show you that!”
With a sense of relief, she felt that he turned under her hands. “Good boy…” she whispered him, sweet as a mother. “Good boy…like that…Close your eyes…Close your golden eyes…”
She led him until her neck and the pain was immediate, waited but unexpectedly intense. She felt his teeth slashing her skin, penetrating in her neck for all their length and she felt also her warm blood dripping from her shoulder. Everything lasted for a moment, because Angelus held her more strongly and he bate her deeper with a violent push…and all the pain was erased by something purer and more incomprehensible. Ecstasy. Even if it was a quite miserable word…
They fell down, the vampire and the slayer. Buffy looked for something to fix her eyes on, but she couldn’t see anything. All Buffy’s nerve terminations were focused on Angelus’ teeth and mouth, and there wasn’t space for anything else apart that switch of death and life between them. He was getting more and more strong, and now he was sucking her blood moving his head and growling like a predator that enjoyed his meal. That low and sensual sound, so catlike and animal, excited her too much. She opened her legs putting them around his pelvis; her nipples were firm and she hugged to him arching her body and her neck, putting her nails inside his nape…because she wanted to be taken completely, be dried…If that was the death, she wanted go on with it…go on…
…go on my love, go on…don’t stop…you’ve promised me, don’t stop…
That wasn’t just feeding. It wasn’t a way to cure neither. Angelus was sucking that full of life blonde little creature and it was like getting drunk, like feeling a constant, dazzling stream of adrenaline and pleasure…none of his countless victims had ever reacted such completely to his bite…with no one he had shivered….shivered with emotion…he sucked and sucked her, tasting her…Hoping that…that it never ended. That…
But the switch, the usual, very well known switch occurred, in time and unmerciful. Buffy’s hug stopped, her blood pressure slowed down. Angelus raised his head, rubbing his forehead against her temple, covered with cold sweat drops…her heart was stopping and her green eyes were glassy and misty, her lips were opened and waxen…
Kill her or turn her, the vampire thought, now, immediately, these are the only two possibilities…the only ones. The most reasonable ones…he looked at her under his body, pale, too pale: her hair were strewn over the floor, her face had a childish expression, but he could already see in it the woman she was…
The most reasonable…reasonable…
With a sudden move he went away from her and he stood up, strong and full of energy again. His desperate cry echoed in the mansion. “Spike! Damn! Spike!”

In more than a century of non-life he had seen a huge quantity of absurd things. Really absurd ones. To begin with, he was forced to get out from his grave with his own hands.
It was rather impossible to surpass this one. Rather. Until that day, at least.
Until the day he was forced to help his grandsire to bring one of his victims to the hospital…
Spike lighted up his cigarette and a couple of patients that were walking up and down the squalid pale green corridor, looked at him in a really bad way. He just ignored them. He could really put out his fag on the forehead of the first bloke who dared to reproach him.
But he pushed it under his boot as soon as he saw Angelus coming next to a doctor. She was talking passionately to him and, bloody hell, Spike could understand her. With that badly buttoned up white shirt, the uncombed hair and a so sincere tense expression, Angelus looked perfectly like what he pretended to be. The older brother of Elisabeth O’Connor. A panic-stricken handsome guy.
Or he was playing better than De Niro or it was the first case of vampire occupied by a supernatural entity. Spike chose the second one. Because, bloody hell, there was something different in Angelus, in his tired way he walked towards him, in his so human way he was kneading his neck and rubbing his eyes…black and troubling eyes, yes, but…but…
“How’s Buffy?” he asked him.
“Fine. Being a slayer means that she is already ok. The doctor says that she’ll be discharged in an hour…” the other answered, sitting down on a little plastic couch against the wall, and smiling with…relief?
Spike looked at him, shocked. “Maybe you have that poison still in your veins. You’re the Scourge of Europe, do you remember? And you brought her to the hospital…have you got it? To the hospital…” his voice lowed down, skeptical.
“Stop repeating that like a parrot” Angelus replied, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not def…”
Spike bent in front of him. “No, you’re not def. And you’re not…you’re not yourself, fuck it. You don’t do this kind of things.”
Finally Angelus looked at him. “Yeah, I saved her…and you’re happy, don’t deny that”
Spike shut up and he clenched his teeth. Of course he was, damn.
Few hours before, when he found Buffy who looked like a corpse, so cold and pale, he wanted to kill his grandsire…then he felt surprised when Angelus took her in his arms forbidding him to come closer, holding her like a precious. A fast and peremptory order: “Take the car. Hurry up”. And an angry roar against Drusilla, who tried to protest softly.
Dru…he felt a bit guilty with her…he didn’t care about her reaction. He didn’t care about anything. Except rescue Buffy.
He admitted it. “Yes, it’s obvious I’m glad…But we’re not talking about that”
Angelus laughed, shaking his head. “Well, that’s clear…Let’s analyzing my contradictions. Ok. But let’s not talking about yours…”he looked so tired. “The day is coming…the car we’ve come here with, the one you stole downtown, it’s not good for us…call someone of our people and tell him to come here with a black window car. Then take Buffy home. Her mom should have been already gone, but be discreet”
“Wait…I take her home?” Spike stood up, confused. “Only me? And where are you going?”
“I’ve something to do” Angelus answered, crossing his arms; his dark eyes were fixing an empty space.
“Something to do? Like? Shopping under the sun?” Spike asked. No, it was too much, it was ridiculous. And he also told him to be discreet…! He stood in front of him, legs spread, hands on his hips, waiting for an explication.
“William” Nothing else. Only his real name, pronounced with measured, controlled and evident anger. Angelus didn’t call him by his name often, and not with that tone. If that happened, it meant that he should be really really annoyed.
The blonde vampire surrendered. “Ok. Ok, as you wish, my king” he took his mobile from his pocket and he went nervously to the toilet, to make the call- and probably to smoke a dozen of cigarettes- in peace. When he was near the corner, he turned around: Angelus was still sitting on the little plastic couch, in the same position.
Maybe the real poison is the Slayer’s blood, Spike thought.

15 . I've got you under my skin.

The black-windowed car pulled up slowly in front of the Summers house. Spike gripped the wheel for a while, then he looked at Buffy, who slept next to him. She looked so young and innocent, with her full red cheeks and her long eyelashes, wrapped in the big leather jacket Angelus had left at the hospital before he disappeared no-one knew where…she had taken it and put it on when she came out of the emergency room.
Of course…she had to put something of his on her…
But Spike wasn’t disturbed by that. The real problem that was consuming his mind was another one…it was a question, a single small question…
He decided to touch her softly on her shoulder. Buffy gasped for a moment and looked at him as if she didn’t recognize him. “Are we home?” she mumbled.
Spike nodded. “Is your mom at home now?”
“No…anyway I told her I was sleeping at Willow’s. It’s a lie I use sometimes when I need to stay out at night…”
“That’s good. Rest today, and eat a lot. And put on a sweater that covers the bandages.”
Bloody hell, Spike told himself, I feel like Grandma Duck teaching Huey, Dewey and Louie…How come we’re here in the car talking to each other as if nothing happened?
He looked deep into her eyes, hoping to find something, a sign of his own confusion…
He already knew that he wouldn’t find anything.
“Angelus…”Buffy whispered. “Have you told me the truth? Is he really ok?”
He smiled. Take this, Spikey, and swallow it down whole. “Yes…yes, you saved him. Trust me. Victory!”
“And where is he? Why is he not here?” she insisted, without noticing his sarcasm.
Spike started the car. “Ask him when he comes to collect his jacket …” his expression became serious. “He’ll come. He’ll come to you. I’m sure”
Buffy sighed, a heavy sigh full of too many emotions, as if all the love she hid inside her now was pushing hard to come out. It was both a beautiful and a terrible thing to see…
He observed her while she walked up the path, holding tight to that leather jacket that smelled of musk. And the question, the annoying, unmerciful question started to torture his mind. What about me, Spike thought…Would have she done the same for me?


“I’m a horrible mother…”, Joyce said, brushing down the skirt of her gala dress. “I should stay home with you, making you a hot chocolate for your headache…and I’m going to this inauguration…”
“You’ve been working on it for weeks” Buffy stated, perching on the kitchen table. “And it will help you earn more money…c’mon mom, it’s just a headache…Yesterday Willow was so strict with those chapters about the Civil War…” she smiled. “Go and enjoy your well-deserved moment of glory! I’ll take a long bath, I’ll watch a bit of TV...and then I’ll go to bed like a good girl!”
Joyce embraced her briefly. “You know you’ve grown up a lot? I love you, darling…” she kissed Buffy on the forehead. “I’ll be home late, but I promise you I’ll make no noise at all, so you won’t wake up!”
“Ok…hey, be careful with that dress…no one will notice the paintings with you around…”
She heard her mother laugh as she went out, and suddenly she wanted to cry.
A farce. That was her life, she told herself half an hour later, in the tub. A trembling castle made of lies that was always close to falling. That morning she had talked to Willow, on the phone. More lies. Between them, to avoid talking about the previous night. And lies for Giles: one to justify her absence from school and another one, more picaresque, to explain the damage at his office, forced open by some vampires that she, poor brave slayer, had discovered and killed while she was patrolling. And Giles, poor naïve watcher, believed her…and he had heard the rumours about “the Killer of the Dead” and the wounding of Angelus too, so that an attempted burglary was believable. Those vampires were probably searching for a cure for their boss.
Yep, Buffy thought, but they were not vampires…
She got out of the tub and looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes drawn to the wound on her neck, hidden by the dressing.
Where is he?
He…the only paradox that made sense among the others…
She pulled on her bathrobe and went to her bedroom. The bath hadn’t relaxed her stiffened muscles.
And suddenly the musky scent was so intense that she nearly fainted. She stood in the doorway, without turning the light on.
“Angelus…”



The vampire was standing near the window, in his black trousers and a ruffled white shirt. He had his arms down at his sides, and his two rings shone in the dark. And he was looking at her, his dark eyes bright.
“Are you here for your jacket?” she said, before thinking how stupid the question was. But her heart was nearly exploding and she messed up the words.
Angelus knitted his brows for a moment. “No” he answered simply.
Buffy went in. Even when she tried-desperately but uselessly- to resist him, it was so easy to get close to him, reach him. As if her feet were walking on a path they had known for ever.
She stopped close to him. He was good, yeah. He was always so good looking. Always strong. Always surrounded by the night that followed him anywhere he went, like a lover…
“Why? Why did you stop?”
Silence lasted, underlined by the ticking of the alarm clock on the bed table. Then, Angelus bent his head. “Did you really want to die? And become a thing like me?”
“And if I already was? A power like mine doesn’t come only from light, right?” Buffy replied. “Everything in nature is made up of darkness and light…what if my dark side were the predominant one? If I was a wrong slayer?”
Angelus walked around her, preoccupied. “It’s not so easy…”
“Yes it is…” Buffy became heated. “I tasted darkness, as you taught me, and I found it more pleasant that I could imagine. Too pleasant. I’ve walked over all my ideals and values. Every day I lie to my mother and my friends and… I don’t care. It doesn’t make any difference now. If I think about tomorrow, about the future…I can see only you”
He surprised her, turning around and looking at her. “Because you love me?” he looked angry. Furious. “Little girl, you’re confused”
“No, I’m not” she pulled at his arm. “You told me I could never understand your sacrifice to save Drusilla…but I understand it. Now I understand!”
Suddenly, the vampire took her by the neck. “No! You don’t understand at all!”
Buffy gasped. He wasn’t clutching, but when his fingers touched her wound, she moaned.
And she wasn’t feeling pain. Angelus understood it looking at her face. She was softly enjoying it. And this was enough for him to admit that the point of no return had been passed a long time ago. And it would have been childish to protest.
He came closer, designing little delicate circles around her wound with his fingertips. Buffy moistened her lips: that feeling was unusual, as if from the injury there radiated uncountable hot waves and shivers. Then he took off the dressing and bent over her. Buffy stiffened, ready for his bite again.
Yes, my love, again…
But Angelus didn’t satisfy her. He traced the outlines of his bite with his tongue, and the waves of heat and shivers became fire inside Buffy’s veins. She held on to his shirt, reaching out towards him, while he moved up along her jaw and chin, until he found her mouth.
He plucked it, he opened it like a fruit, invading it with an unusual sweetness. He kissed her, pushing back her head, holding her face in his hands; slow, sensual. She was dazzled. God…he used to take her kisses…but now he was giving her an endless one…Buffy moaned, clumsily trying to undress him.
“Shh…calm down…” he whispered. “Calm down…” he started to kiss her again, another lovely and breathless kiss, keeping on touching her, as if it was important, desperately important to keep in contact with her skin. One hand took her golden hair, and with the other he began to stroke her softly, from her throat to her breast, up and down, going inside the bath robe, which fell down around her. Angelus moved back, undoing his shirt slowly.
Breathless, naked, waiting for him, Buffy leaned against the wall, the same one he had pushed her violently against the first time they talked…and kissed each other....and now he was so different, his eyes were so warm…she looked at him, seduced, fascinated, while he knelt down in front of her, embracing her, taking her nipple in his mouth.
She had never felt him hers, but that night he was. He belonged to her. And she…God, she wanted him. More, she demanded him.
Repaying his embrace, she caressed his shoulders, his hair, his face…and she noticed, surprised and touched, some circular scars on his forehead: an indelible sign of the young Liam; the imperfections of a short human life stuck in the perfect secular death…she was dazzled by pleasure and sadness, and her eyes became wet. And a suspicion lit up her mind…
“Nobody has ever told you that…”she whispered.
Angelus raised his face and one of her teardrops fell on his mouth.
“I love you…”, Buffy continued. “Nobody has ever told you I love you…”
He didn’t answer. It was useless. She was the first one. She was the first for him.
“And do you like it when I tell you that?” she asked, secretly excited.
Once again, Angel didn’t answer. Not with words.
He raised her leg, leaning it on his shoulder. He looked at her for a moment, with his golden and enigmatic eyes, then he bit into the inside of her thigh. Buffy trembled and looked around for something to hold on to. This bite was different from the other one, it was even better. He was sucking her softly, with a slow and hypnotic rhythm, and she could feel his teeth, the pressure of his tongue, and hear his low moan, like a cat…and she felt as if she was on the edge of insanity. An unpredictable, sweet insanity…
She came holding on to a shelf full of books and her gasps filled the silence. And when she calmed down, Angelus stood up, rubbing himself against her. “Tell me again…” he asked, with her blood on his face.
Buffy licked his lips, between the teeth, kissing him passionately. “I love you. I’ll always love you”
She wasn’t scared of admitting it. This child was extremely sure of her feelings…Angelus’ face became human again, both confused and excited. No, no one had ever told him “I love you”. And he didn’t care at all. He wanted to be feared, not loved. Love was…what was it? Was it that?
That torment that was burning inside him, destroying his self-control?
He held her in his arms, so beautiful, glowing with sweat and perfumed with pleasure, and he put her on the bed. He took off his trousers and lay next to her, over her, inside her. Naturally, like a heartbeat. Even if his heart hadn’t been beating for a long time. “Come with me, come…” he whispered. “Come with me, now…”

Humid skin, musk and vanilla, rapt sighs, wet kisses, stiffened muscles, burning orgasms…they swayed one inside the other more times, lost, kept, blind, deaf…all night long, never full, drunk…maybe scared…until peaceful rest came to comfort them, forehead against forehead, hand in hand…
The rest and the dreams of exhausted lovers…
…Dreams…
…Nightmares…


Angelus woke up with a gulped-back cry, and he felt as if a huge weight was pushing him down. Buffy was sleeping and holding him tightly, her lips were still swollen and she was smiling. She…she loved him…She…
A sudden nausea affected him and the whole room turned around him…What had he done? Damn, what had happened to him?
I can’t, he thought, frantic. I really can’t.
I must not…




The room was dark and the creased sheets smelled of passion. Buffy stretched, feeling a bit sore. She moved her legs one against the other and the soft, voluptuous pain of the bite made her start…Oh, it wasn’t a dream…it had happened. So wonderful…so incredible.
She sat up, smiling, delightfully tired; but she wanted to scream, and laugh. And make love. Again and again, with her dark prince…she looked for him with a rapid glance.
“Angelus?” she called him softly. “Angelus?”
She slid off the bed, puzzled, and pulled his big, creased shirt around her. “Angelus…?Where…?”
He came in, his leather trousers on, bare-chested, wet hair. “I was taking a shower” he told her, laconically. “Don’t worry, your mother is snoring like a miner. She didn’t notice anything”
“You could have woken me up, so we could take the shower together…” she provoked him, admiring his tattoo. That night her hands had touched it and she imagined it moving between the muscles of his perfect back…
Angelus ignored her, concentrating on looking for something on the floor. “Darling, I’m really long-lasting…” finally he found his little chain on the carpet and picked it up. “…but I’m not your personal sex machine…”
Buffy turned pale. “Angelus…something’s wrong?”
“No, why?” he smiled at her, while he put on his chain.
What a cold smile, Buffy thought, and his eyes…he behaves as I weren’t there…What’s up?
“Last night…” she babbled, suddenly scared.
“Yeah, last night…” that strange smile was still on his face. “A great night, honey. You’re getting better”
What? Why was he treating her like this?
Her chin trembled and a lump in her throat stopped her words.
He arched an eyebrow. “What’s up now?” he understood and he laughed. “Oh, God, I’m not very tactful, right? You gave me your blood, we played at lovers for a bit…and you’d already thought yourself the main character of a Disney production, right? Did you think this morning we’d wake up among twittering birds and cute bunnies, singing like in a musical?”
He was over her, his eyes were inscrutable, cold. And nasty. “Darling, I told you that you didn’t understand… harsh reality has got its rules. At night we fuck, telling each other hot lies to get horny…and the morning after…well…we have our own lives”
No…no…that wasn’t possible…”Why are you behaving like this?” Buffy gasped, her fists clenched, the first of many tears on her cheeks. “Last night we were together and it wasn’t just fucking…I’m not an idiot or stupid. You didn’t fuck me, you loved me!”
She ground her teeth, angry and frustrated. “Why are you turning back, uh? Are you scared? Scared to admit that you love me?”
Yes…it must be that! It was the only acceptable explanation…
Angelus picked up his leather jacket, insensitive. “As you wish, my dear. You’re so young…who am I to take away your teenage illusions?” he replied.
“You can keep the shirt…it’s spoiled”
“Angelus!” Buffy cried, as the vampire climbed out through the window. “I love you…”
“Oh, darling…me too!” he replied. “I’ll call ya, right?”
He jumped into the garden and put the jacket on over his naked chest. It was a pity he had left his cigarettes in his coat, at the mansion…you should always have a cigarette to smoke, when you’re yourself again. He had left something in that room, between the soft arms, and on the fresh mouth of that girl…something of him that he had to cut off, before the necrosis affected all of him.
I’m the Scourge, he thought, walking under the stars that were beginning to fade, I’ve no mercy for anyone. I possess and I’m not possessed. And I won’t let anybody love me.
Never again.

16. Soulless.

Tears ran down Buffy’s pale face, and silent sobs shook her thin body. When Willow came into the library that day, she felt sorry to see Buffy in such a state.
“I’ve done nothing but cry” Buffy admitted; not even bothering to dry her eyes.
“I thought I had no more tears to cry…but I had…”
“But...are you ok? This morning, on the phone, you were so weird”
“I told my mom I still had a headache and I stayed home”
“With…him?” Willow asked.
“No” Buffy shook her head. “Willow, I’m desperate. I don’t know what to do. I gave him my love, my blood…and my body. All of myself…and it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough” Buffy started to cry again.
“Shhh” Willow warned her. “If Mr. Giles comes back and sees you like this, how could you explain it? Don’t you think he would suspect something? We have been good at telling lies until now…but what can you tell him?
“I don’t give a damn!” Buffy told. “I’m sure he loves me. He just can’t admit that…”
“Who, Mr. Giles?”
“Willow, please!” frustrated, Buffy blew her nose noisily. “Angelus. Last night we were together, and it was…wonderful. Sublime. Then, this morning he left. And he was so cold…so nasty. He broke my heart, Will…because I know he’s lying. He must be lying”
Willow embraced her friend. “And if he’s right, Buffy?” she whispered, caressing her golden hair. “And if he knows that you have no future? He’s a vampire, for God’s sake…he has no soul. Don’t you know what this means? There’s no love or happiness for you. Your love for him has already been dangerous for you...two days ago you were dying. Maybe you should be thankful for the fact that he’s wise enough to try to keep away from you…or he’s just too nasty to care about you. In either case there’s no future for you, and he knows that. I’m sorry, but you should accept that…and try to live without him”
Buffy pulled away from Willow. “I don’t accept it…understood?” In her pale face, her vivid green eyes shone.
Willow nodded. She knew better than anyone else how difficult it was to accept human limits. But you could try to push them …just a bit…
“Hey girls, what sad faces you have!”
Buffy and Willow turned suddenly. Xander was standing at the door, and he was looking at them with a disappointed expression.




The doorbell of the Magic Box made a sweet sound, like an afterlife invitation in that little space devoted to occult sciences. The innocent citizens of Sunnydale thought that the modest shop full of ancient dust was only the latest eccentric thing…but Jenny Calendar admired the goods on the shelves.
There were a few people interested in magic in Sunnydale, and the shopkeeper of the Magic Box was among them.
“Good morning my wonderful lady. I guess you’re not here to buy a love spell: with such a lovely face and body you don’t need one”
Jenny smiled, gratified. “In fact I’m here for something more everlasting than love…and more satisfactory…for a long term relationship. I would like a globe of Thesulah”
“Oh, dear lady, you’re right…you don’t speak the sweet language of love, but the cruel one of vengeance…I’ll give you the last one I have…but believe me, it will be useful only as a paperweight. The spell you’re searching for is lost”
“I’m workin’ on it” whispered Jenny, smiling sweetly.
“Well…you look like you know what to do” the shopkeeper wrapped the opalescent globe and took Jenny’s credit card. “But be careful. Here in Sunnydale it can be very dangerous to buy these things”
“I’ll be careful” answered Jenny, and she went away with the globe in her large leather bag.


“My lord…the night’s shuddering. The night’s tinkling. Bad things will happen at dawn…shh…I’m shaking”
“Be careful Dru” Angelus replied briefly, in a very bad mood. “It’s evening time. Sleep a bit”
“Yeah, you both should sleep” Spike replied, reading the newspaper. “I’ve got a headache. It looks as if someone is like a cat on hot bricks”
“No, I’m not” Angelus replied softly, raising his eyes to look at his irritating companion.
“If you’re sure…” Spike replied with a sarcastic smile. “Your mood proves the contrary”
Drusilla stood up suddenly, and started to shout.
“Make her stop it!” Angelus ordered.
Spike showed him two fingers, and went upstairs.
Furious, Angelus covered the vampiress’s face with his hand, until she fainted in his arms.




“So? What’s up, girls? A bad mark?”
“Xander, it’s none of your business” Willow answered. “Buffy…”
“No, let’s tell him everything” the Slayer replied. “He has to know. He has to laugh. Are you happy Xander? My new boyfriend has left me. I guess you’ll like this news”
“Who, the blonde one?” Xander asked, already confused at seeing Buffy crying.
“No…another one.”
“Another one? Buffy, what…?
“I haven’t lost any time” she replied. “ Like you when you left me for Cordelia”
“Are you still angry?”
“Not at all” Buffy replied, uninterested and near to crying again. Angelus…
Xander noticed something he hadn’t seen till that moment.
“What the hell is that…Buffy?”
The two girls followed his glance.
Buffy’s mini-kilt didn’t cover her thighs well when she walked. On her left leg there was a wound. A…bite?
“A dog…a wild dog” Willow stated.
“A cat…an angry cat” Buffy whispered simultaneously.
Xander looked at them both.
“Was it a…cat, a dog or…an over-passionate lover?”
The two girls looked at each other. Buffy covered her legs immediately, but she couldn’t resist slowly touching her wound, enjoying the painful heat it provoked in her…reheating her blood…
“I really would like to understand you, Buffy…but I can’t - I haven’t for a long time. You do know that, right?”
She nodded. She had no more doubts: when she had given her blood to Angelus, all the bonds with her past had broken. She even had doubts about her relationship with her mom: God, if she only knew what she had done in that house, in her virginal bed…Spike was right. Angelus had taken everything from her, even her reason…without giving anything back.
Almost. She hoped that he really loved her…that if he had wanted, if it had been possible for him to eradicate the evil in himself, then he…
“I have to do my homework” she stated, distantly, picking up her books. She just wanted to go back to her room, the one in which she had been with Spike and Angelus, and cry. And then, cry a bit more.
Xander and Willow watched her leave.
“She doesn’t look good” Xander stated. “And she doesn’t look happy”
“No, she’s not” Willow admitted, embarrassed at being alone with him.
“And I’m not happy without you, Will” replied him. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Going out with Cordelia is a torture. She doesn’t deserve to be deceived…no one deserves it. But I have to listen to my heart”
Willow stepped backwards, until her back was against the shelves. “Xander, I…”
“Shhh…” he told her. “Please Will…give me something”
Willow closed her eyes. Hesitating a bit, she reached out her hand…and Xander took her sweetly by her wrist, putting her hand on his jeans. She gasped. With the other hand, Xander unzipped his trousers…and he helped Willow take hold of his erect penis with her pale and nervous fingers.
“Yeah…like that…”
Willow kept her eyes closed, following the rhythm he gave her, and she smiled to hear him moan. Xander took her sweetly by her head, putting her down in front of him.
Willow opened her eyes. What…did…he want her to do?
She would never know.
Because at that moment Cordelia came in.

“What’s your plan?” Darla asked, furious. She couldn’t believe her eyes: Faith, that dangerous snake, was seated on the Mayor’s desk and he was smiling. What a couple! “I told you I would take care of Angelus…and this little bitch has poisoned him!”
“Your Angelus is fine” the Mayor stated. “This morning he left the Slayer’s house…the other Slayer of course”
“Who saved him with her blood” Faith stated. “They’re perfect together”
Darla sat down on a chair. Drusilla had told her Angelus was safe; she had come to her to give her the good news, but Dru wasn’t properly sane…and she had forgotten to tell Darla what the “cure” was: Buffy Summers’ blood.
Darla felt horribly angry. She wanted to erase Wilkins’ stupid smile…and turn Faith into a mass of blood.
And she would have done that…if someone else hadn’t arrived.
“Darla is right” the newcomer stated, in his husky drawl with the marked Texan accent. “You really don’t know how dangerous…and…impulsive your actions have been”.
Darla turned around. Faith concentrated her attention on him, and Wilkins stopped to smile.
Lindsey Mc Donald, a Wolfram & Hart junior partner, certainly knew how to make an entrance.



And the same was true of Cordelia Chase, “Queen C.”. In fact she was the most popular girl at Sunnydale High. And she was also the most furious.
“You…with this zero…kneeling down…in front of you? What the hell does it mean?”
Willow stood up slowly. It had been fun, and she wasn’t feeling embarrassed or guilty at all. No, she was secretly satisfied. The beautiful Cordelia. The rich Cordelia. The popular Cordelia.
But Cordelia’s boyfriend had come to the nerd Willow Rosenberg. Maybe I’m not so insignificant, Willow thought. She looked at Cordy with shining dark eyes, and the Homecoming Queen took a step back…as if she faced a primordial and unknown power.
“It means that it’s over.” Willow whispered, in a strange voice.
“This girl needs an exorcist…and to stop hanging out with your freaky former girlfriend. Freaky and bitch…Are those the kind of girls you like?”
Xander looked at them both. Willow was his best friend, and also his secret obsession…since that night they had kissed each other in the toilet at the Bronze.
But Cordy was his girlfriend…and his reward. His ticket to social inclusion. He couldn’t lose her.
“My book fell down” he tried to justify himself.
Cordelia gave him a scornful look. She had in her time given enough blowjobs to recognize one. She left the library furious, crying sad and angry tears. Xander, you damned…why did she hook up with such a loser? If Buffy Summers, one of the nicest and most controversial girls in the school, hadn’t been his girlfriend, she wouldn’t even have noticed him. But something…something had enthralled her. God knew she couldn’t remember what it was. Close to the door, Cordy ran into Miss Calendar, and her bag fell down: a big, opalescent globe slid on to the floor.
“I’m sorry!” Cordelia whimpered, feeling so stupid…Xander followed her, and Willow and the teacher were alone. Neither of them could ignore the elephant between them.


“What do you mean, Mr. Lawyer?” Wilkins scowled, inviting Lindsey to sit down. The lawyer smiled and took Darla’s hand. On his young and sexy face appeared a sweet, ironic smile: she was gorgeous. Darla’s glance became sweeter: she didn’t love anybody, but she was moved by Lindsey’s sincere adoration. She thought about the first time they made love: she had almost killed him, and he would have let her! Then he stayed home for a week and she cured him. Like a perfect nurse.
“As you know, Mr. Wilkins, Wolfram & Hart- whom I represent- have powerful tools at our disposal: technological tools…and occult experts. We have a team of clairvoyants and sensitives, and many among them are from parallel dimensions where the empathic capacities are very well trained…I’m thinking- for example- of Pylea.”
“Yes, I’ve heard a bit about them. They’re useful to help discover if your partners are cleaning you out”
“Among other things” Lindsey told. “And if I tell you that all these people have whirled around like dervishes all week long?”
Wilkins smiled. “I’m listening, Mr. Lawyer”
“Something big is going to happen here in Sunnydale…you won’t believe it, but it’s something bigger than your Ascension Day”
“Go on”
“The world balance is going to break down for ever”
“The Slayer will die?” Wilkins asked, looking anxiously at Faith.
“Something worse. You know that for thousands of years, good and evil forces have been playing important roles in the world’s balance”
“Good…evil…what irrelevant definitions” Wilkins remarked.
“You’re right…but you have to admit that when an evil force is turned into a good one- or vice versa- well, that’s not irrelevant at all. And that’s what’s going to happen”
“Faith, are you going to betray me?” Wilkins asked, scanning her with a deep look.
“Never, boss” she answered with a dark and passionate look. She adored that sort of father.
“This is not the right time to play with vampires like Angelus and William the Bloody”, Lindsey replied. “It’s time to wait and watch events, ready for anything. So, the operation `Scourge of Europe’ is officially adjourned”
Wilkins remained silent for a long instant.
And then he exploded.
“Wait a second…since when am I taking orders from Wolfram & Hart? Who do you think you are to give me orders?”
Lindsey took an old-looking document from his overnight bag.
“It was 1924…and you signed this contract with the New York branch of our legal office. It’s not complicated…it was a simple alliance, one among the many you have signed with the hellish powers during these years. Here at the foot, in red, you can see your signature…your blood”
Wilkins sat down. He had forgotten that alliance. He had signed so many contracts: with Machida, with Lurconis…and with other devilish powerful entities even less decorous and gentle.
“Our archives are very well organized…it was extremely easy to find this” Lindsey stated, closing his overnight bag. “Now, if you don’t mind, Darla and I will stay here for a couple of days and then we’ll leave. Regarding you, Miss…”
“Faith…” the slayer whispered, sulkily.
“Have you ever thought about a free-lance career?”
Faith didn’t answer; she was staring at Wilkins. She didn’t like to see him lose: she wanted to stake Darla and shoot that so-called lawyer with his too-long hair hanging in his eyes.
But she was clever enough to understand when it was time to stay low and shut up.
Darla and Lindsey left and she was alone with the Mayor.
“You…you won’t go, will you?”
“No” she smiled. “I’ll never leave you”.



“I lied, my love” Lindsey whispered, when they were in the limousine. His lips were kissing Darla’s velvet neck near her breast. “We’ll get away from here soon…probably tomorrow, because what has to happen, will happen at dawn”
“And I don’t care” she laughed, showing her perfect teeth. He kissed her and he lost, as usual, his coldness and his reason.
“You will” he answered, looking at her with…compassion. He couldn’t reveal the truth to her. Not yet, maybe never. She would do anything to prevent it. Everything. And Wolfram & Hart wanted that: chaos was its daily bread.
Like everyone, she needed to learn to live with the consequences of her actions.
“Shh…” he told her. In the comfortable and intimate darkness of the car he took one of her breasts, torturing it with fake bites…bites that she could really and painfully give him. “Stay with me tonight”
“I have to eat” she replied.
“I’ve some blood with me…and if you want you can take mine too”
The shyness he showed as he said that didn’t move her. She was sad, because she knew how temporary human passions were. That one more than any other.
With skilled movements she unzipped his trousers and sat astride him, raising her leather skirt and her slip. Lindsey entered into her cool womb…it was so different from the one of a living woman…and her half-opened blue eyes were so enthralling…
“I love you” he told her while she was riding him; her eyes were fixed on the pulsing vein, in evidence under his golden skin.
“And I love your blood” she smiled, and one minute later she bit him.



“Spike!” Angelus cried, as Dru woke up…and began to cry desperately. “Take her off me! She’s suffocating!”
Raising his eyes to the sky, Spike came downstairs and took Dru in his arms. She raised her voice in a desperate howling.
“I don’t know what she’s done” Angelus said nervously.
“She is shocked. She hasn’t behaved like that for a long time…not even that night when you were sick. What’s up with Buffy? She can finally kill you?”
“You’d like that, uh?” Angelus replied, smiling.
“Don’t be so trivial Scourge” Spike said. “It’s not that simple, and you know it”
“You can’t stand that she has done this for me. That she’s ready to give her life for me…for an immoral monster like me. Well, breaking news: you’re no better”.
“And who made me like this?” Spike asked, bitterly.
“Poor little William. So good and innocent…I told you a long time ago, don’t pretend not to remember it. No one of us deserves anything. You can do what you want, but things don’t change. There’s no mine or yours…but you can take what you want. And we took Buffy Summers…you too, yes. But she’s not ours…maybe it is time to leave her alone. Yes maybe that’s the right solution”
“Are you totally sure? Well Angelus, let me say that you still look very confused”
“Take care of Dru, calm her down. I can’t stand her anymore. I’m going out”
He went towards the huge door: Spike wanted to break his nose. Angelus had Buffy’s love, now he knew that. And he threw it away.
A desperate feeling of helplessness pervaded him. If she had only loved him…neither the sky, or the ground, not even the sea could have stopped him from being next to her. There was no obstacle he wouldn’t pass. There was no enemy he wouldn’t fight.
To become hers.
Angelus was right: William had never learned that lesson.
Dru stood up and stretched her hand out towards Angelus. Both men stopped: in her limpid violet eyes they saw a metaphysical- and deadly- clarity.
“At dawn, what is lost will be found”
Dru started to cry again, softly.
Angelus came back. He might be confused or angry, but he was not stupid. He never underestimated Dru’s visions, because they had saved his life more than once.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about Dru? What’s up?”
Dru looked as if she was in a trance: she knelt down on the floor and stretched her hands out in front of her, tracing a circle.
“You killed the Romany’s favorite daughter. They won’t forgive you. Vengeance is a living thing…it has teeth as sharp as yours. In the Hellmouth, where the Master died, they’re preparing a dawn of pain for you…of endless pain. Run Angelus…run, or you won’t stop them!”
Angelus stiffened. He remembered the girl: a lovely girl, still innocent. Only afterwards had he discovered she was a gypsy.
Angelus didn’t eat gypsies. His Irish nurse- two hundred and fifty years before- had told him that a gypsy would bring his death. Angelus was superstitious, like almost all people of his century. And he had always kept far from the gypsies.
But that time…damn, she was dressed like an upper class schoolgirl…how could he know?!
Only the day after, reading the newspapers for distraction, had he discovered she was the youngest daughter and the pride of her father, the king of the Romanies.
“Maybe it’s time to visit Buffy’s watcher” he said, knowing that the Master fell from the Sunnydale High library roof…and he knew also that the library was not only over the Hellmouth, but was also the Scoobies’ headquarters. “If Buffy is responsible for this, I…” His anger, that had been pushing since the previous night, had now found an escape. The demon in him was roaring.
Spike didn’t answer. When Angelus went out, Dru looked at him.
“For you, it will be even more painful” she told him. “Because fools rush in where angels fear to tread”
Without saying a word, Spike left her alone in the Crawford Street mansion.


Buffy killed the newly born vampire without any problem. She didn’t have to concentrate…and it was good, because all her thoughts were about Angelus and their last night. She needed him…and she couldn’t accept his dismissal. All that hurting and patrolling wasn’t making her feel any better.
“Good, you’re here” Spike gasped, running towards her. “Buffy, your friends are in danger”
Buffy stared at him. “Who the hell are you talking about?”
“Dru foresaw for Angelus that someone- in the high school library- is preparing something terrible for him. Is it your red-haired friend’s fault?”
Buffy regretted what she had told him: how could he enter into her mind? It was weird, but when they were lovers…they had warm feelings, an intimacy that Buffy had never felt with anyone, especially not with Angelus. She had told him about her friends…and about the gang’s adventures. Now she saw him so far…in her soul she had space only for a dark passion. A passion that covered everything: heart and mind.
But a part of her was missing the mutual understanding that she always had felt with Spike.
“So?” she replied, boldly.
“Don’t you understand? Angelus is looking for them. He will stop them”
Buffy stood, stiffened by anger.
“You’re jealous and you want to put us against one another. But I won’t let you”
Spike knocked her down. Shocked, Buffy rubbed her painful jaw: his blow wasn’t too strong, but sufficient to surprise and mortify her.
“You are a silly girl. Forget your enormous ego and think with what’s left of your brain, even if you destroyed it all fucking the Scourge. Angelus is angry with you, only God knows why, and he wants to kill everyone in his way. And now he’s going to the library. And if you don’t want something horrible to happen to your friends, you’d better run, and be ready to dust him if you have to. Do you think you can?”
The mortal seriousness of his words penetrated into Buffy’s blind mind. Spike could have his reasons, his feelings…but he wasn’t lying. Angelus was on a deadly path…and on the other side of the road there were her friends. She had never felt so defeated: she had brought him into their lives.
Buffy ran towards the library.


Willow took the globe. It was warm against her fingers…and it emanated power.
“Nice artefact” she stated, apparently uninterested, under Jenny’s restless look. “You know Miss Calendar, I’ve heard that such objects are used for certain spells…to give a vampire his soul back. Are you thinking of…anybody?”
Jenny held out her hand to take the globe…and Willow held on to it. She liked holding it in her hand.
“Uh-uh” Willow whispered. “Only if you let me watch”
“Little girl, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Give it to me!”
Willow concentrated…and made it levitate.
Both she and Jenny were amazed: it was the first time she had tried such a big spell, and she’d never thought she could do it. Willow felt deliciously invincible.
Night was falling outside. The two women were standing still, one in front of the other, with the globe between them, when something fell down from the glass roof, the same roof from which the Master had fallen, staking himself.
The big dark image stood up, staring at them.
He was a gorgeous man, he wore black leather trousers and a dark silk shirt. As the broken glass tinkled around him, Willow and Jenny stepped back. That dark and mysterious angel was looking at the opalescent globe…and in his dark beautiful eyes they both saw death.
“You shouldn’t play with these objects” he whispered in a low voice. “Were you planning a spell against me?”
“Angelus” Jenny said, becoming self assured again. “Finally we meet”
“Angelus…” Willow whispered, understanding everything. Beautiful, so beautiful…the opposite. Evil. The dark charm…
Angelus took the globe. It was shining in his pale, elegant hand.
“It will be so easy to break it…like breaking all your bones…”
Jenny gasped, but she didn’t surrender.
Willow made another spell: her eyes turned black and the globe disappeared.
“Ohhh…” Angelus said, smiling. “The naughty girl loves dangerous games”
Willow raised a hand. “Fiat lux!”
A shining light invaded the library, like sunlight…but it wasn’t the sun. Angelus covered his eyes as he followed them. Willow ran away, hoping that Jenny was doing the same. The young gypsy had almost escaped from the library when something powerful caught her: she was in the monster’s arms.
The fake light Willow created had gone.
Angelus opened his eyes, fixing them in Jenny’s dark and expressive ones, on her beautiful pale face, on her gasping breast. It looked like the embrace of a lover.
But it wasn’t.
“You…still…don’t have…a soul” she whispered.
“No, sweetie, I don’t” Angelus smiled.
And then, with a rapid gesture, he broke her neck.




Buffy ran faster than she knew how. Her thoughts were confused…could she kill him? Could she really dust him? Her duty was clear…it had never been so clear. She couldn’t let Angelus became a threat to her friends. But…was she worthy of that task? And if Spike was wrong? If he had lied to her? Please God, I hope he did, she repeated in her mind desperately, like a mantra…
She came into the school through the back entrance…the library was nearby. There was perfect silence.
When she was at the glass door, left ajar, she hesitated.
What was inside could break her heart. Could she face this?
She gathered her strength and went in.
There was nobody inside.
In the middle of the room, right where the Hellmouth opened, there was a dark bundle. Someone had left a…
Buffy gasped. Jenny. Oh my God, it was Jenny.
Her eyes were open, her mouth was a slit. And her head was in a totally unnatural position with respect to her neck.
Buffy cried out, and she almost didn’t notice Giles and Willow running towards her.
Her world was shattered.




“Jenny…Jenny!” Rupert Giles cried, holding her. Her beautiful pale face, her ancient grace, her love…the only true love in his lonely life…she should have been his future.
Now, she was only his past.
Giles looked at Willow, who was crying, then at Buffy, immovable.
“Who did this?”
Buffy turned her head, she couldn’t look her watcher in the eyes. Because she felt responsible for that absurd death. She was devastated. Night had fallen on Sunnydale and they heard the police sirens. Something had probably triggered the school alarm. “Leave before Snyder arrives!” Giles whispered. “I don’t want you to get involved”
Buffy didn’t move, until Willow took her arm and they went out. She wanted to tell everything to her watcher. Tell him that it was her fault. Only her fault…but Willow didn’t agree.
“It’s all my fault” Buffy cried, desperate. “I should have killed him. Both of them. And…I was their toy. Oh God, how can I ever forgive myself…”
“Shhh” Willow comforted her, while they walked down the school path.
On the other side of the road they saw Oz.
“Oz, you don’t know what’s happened…”
“I know everything Will” the boy replied, coldly. “Cordelia told me everything”
Willow stared at him without understanding. Then, she got it.
“No, Oz, I wasn’t talking about that…I…”
“Why didn’t you tell me everything?” Oz replied, apparently calm; but in his eyes she saw a wounded expression.
“You and Xander. You should have been honest. I’ve always been honest with you. And now…I think I don’t really know you at all”
“Oz, listen” Buffy said, still crying. “Jenny Calendar is dead. A vampire killed her and I…”
“What?” Oz looked at Willow. “Are you both ok? Were you with her?”
“I was with her” Willow admitted. “He attacked us…he was a dangerous vampire. But I ran away. Unfortunately Miss Calendar didn’t…”
“Does Mr. Giles know that?”
Willow nodded. “He was out with one of his colleagues. I called him on the phone…I gave him an alibi, thank God!”
“Oh my God” Oz said, horrified.
Buffy started to cry again.
“I must take her home” Willow said, practically. “We’ll talk about our problems tomorrow if you don’t mind”
Oz shook his head. “This doesn’t change anything, I’m sorry. Do you deny you were with…Xander?”
Willow shook her head, her eyes full of tears. Finally she realized how much she cared about him…now that she was losing him. God, how superficial she had been!
“You have to give me time Willow. And I don’t think it will be enough” he sincerely told him. “But now you both have to rest. I’ll go inside…to help Giles if I can”
Willow nodded, her heart was broken.
With no more words, the two girls went to Willow’s house.



He felt strong. He felt fine.
He was tasting again the pure evil. What the insipid love of that blonde doll had nearly erased.
No, I’m not like that, he told himself, smoking another cigarette. A blonde prostitute was at his feet. Despite the fact that he had drained her completely, he didn’t felt a tenth of the satisfaction he felt when he broke the neck of that charming gypsy…but the night was young and the hunting open. And soon he would also have killed that naughty girl who played Sabrina.
What had the beautiful Jenny told him before dying? That he had no soul? So?
He remembered the putrid taste those things had. The rotten and cloying flavour of remorse and regrets…no, fortunately he had got rid of it two hundred and fifty years before. Just in time.
He had forgotten. That and Buffy Summers’ kisses.
Better not to think about that. Absolutely not.
Better to hunt.



“Take it. It’s hot at least”
Buffy took the cup in her hands, sitting on Willow’s bed, a blanket round her. She was trembling and she had no more tears to cry. Almost. Giles wasn’t alone fortunately: Oz and Xander were with him. Even if it was really embarrassing being together after Oz had discovered his affair with Willow, both of them decided to cooperate. Rupert needed them.
Buffy told her mom the nth lie: she couldn’t count the nights she stayed out until dawn anymore. But soon, all this would stop. It had to stop. Even if she had to stake both Angelus and William the Bloody.
“How are you?” she asked Willow, who was extremely pale.
“Bad” she admitted. “Your boyfriend wanted to kill us…and Oz has left me. Forever”
Buffy bit her lips. “It’s ok if I tell you I’m sorry?”
Willow nodded.
“It’s my fault too” she admitted, honest as usual. “I shouldn’t have helped you to find a cure for Angelus. If it wasn’t for me, now he would be dead. And Jenny would still be alive”
Buffy covered her face with her hands. She didn’t want to think about that. She couldn’t think about that. If she had done it, she would have been glad that he was still alive…and how could she have lived with the awareness of her vileness?
“Listen to me” Willow told her. “You must stay in control. I know you want to tell everything to Mr. Giles…to feel better. But can you imagine how much he would suffer knowing you were intimate with that…that monster? Buffy, you must be strong, get through this moment and decide what to do. Calmly”
“I can’t let him live anymore” Buffy stated in a low voice. “Who will be next? You? He saw you using magic against him…don’t you think he will try to kill you?”
“There are various possibilities”
Buffy laughed, bitterly.
“Let’s be serious now Willow. There is only one. I have to take a stake…and dust him”
Buffy closed her eyes. “I know I have to do that. I have known that for a long time. But I have to find the strength to do it. Lord, please, give me the strength, because I don’t have it now”
Willow became more serious. “Men are so hypocritical. They use us like Kleenex…and then they judge us. Xander was fond of me…and then he went back to Cordelia. Oz has suddenly forgotten how many worries his lycanthropy has caused me. And your Angelus…”
“Better not talk about that” Buffy admitted.
“If they only knew…if they only understood what real love is…then they wouldn’t behave like that”
“If only Angelus had a soul” Buffy sighed. “He would be aware of his feelings for me…and he couldn’t avoid loving me…I’m sure”
Willow stared at her.
“Repeat what you just said”
“I’ve told you…what’s up Will? What are you thinking about?”
“Jenny wanted that. She wanted to give him a soul” Willow said, in a trance.
“What?!” Buffy cried, more and more doubtful. “Kill him? I told you I can’t…but I will. Sooner or later I will…I swear to you”
Willow stared at Buffy. “Maybe it’s not necessary”


In a hour, dawn would come. A dawn after a long bloody night. Angelus came back to Crawford Street and went to his room. Dru and Spike were asleep on the bed: they held each other but they still had their clothes on after their hunt. Angelus thought about sleeping in another room, but he changed his mind. He felt restless. But it was weird: he had no hesitation to kill that night. Again and again...
What the hell was going on?
He took off his golden chain and the shirt. With just his trousers on he lay down close to Dru. His movements woke Spike up, who looked at him.
“Was it a good hunt?” he asked him and Angelus understood immediately what he meant.
“Buffy’s fine, don’t worry. And the same goes for her wicca friend” he replied.
Spike relaxed a bit.
They both had problems falling asleep; they both had something to think about, and their limbs were heavy due to the coming dawn.
They were both sure it would be a dawn of change.


“Are you sure?” Buffy asked, looking at Willow, who was laying out around them little white bones and burning some perfumed grasses, whose fumes were hurting their eyes.
“And you?”
Buffy nodded and Willow stared at her. “We’re trying a very powerful spell…it’s also very dangerous. You told me you couldn’t kill Angelus and I told you that maybe you didn’t have to. Because we only have to use Jenny’s spell…the one she wanted to use”
“But it would have been a vengeance for her”
“And…for you?”
Buffy shook her head desperately. “I don’t want vengeance. If I wanted that I would follow Angelus with a stake…and one of us would die. I want him to love me again. I want him to feel like I feel…I want to give him a soul…and I want his soul to force him to change his feelings, to love me as I love him. That’s nothing to do with vengeance”
“You want him for yourself” Willow stated. “Even if he has killed…even if he has been killing for three centuries”
“Yes, I want him for myself. At any cost” Buffy looked at Willow. “I’m ready for anything. Even to give him a soul”
“He won’t be thankful for that”
“But he would be forced to love me. To stay with me. And I wouldn’t be alone anymore…”
Willow nodded. She understood Buffy.
And, to be honest, she wanted to prove to herself how good she was, to explore new magic kingdoms…each of them, opening, was telling her that she was worthy and that it would erase her pain of living, her feeling of inadequacy, her loneliness. A promise of victory.
“Well, let’s start. Dawn’s coming: the time vampires are weakest. If we’re lucky, Angelus is sleeping. He won’t even realize it. And when he wakes up…”
“…he’ll be mine” Buffy finished, really pale. “Go on”
“Buffy, another thing. I’ve changed the original spell, in which the curse would disappear if he lived a moment of happiness. Angelus won’t lose his soul…ever”
“Good” Buffy nodded, relaxed. She couldn’t have lived with such a Sword of Damocles over her head. “He will be mine forever. Now, let’s start”
Inexorable, the two teenagers began to change the balance between good and evil forever.
Throwing the universe into chaos.




Dawn had come. In the east the livid pale sunlight was gilding the roofs of the houses downtown.
Rupert Giles was crying at home, drinking whisky and listening to “Tales of Brave Ulysses”. Jenny’s body was lying at the morgue. Tomorrow he would look for the killer. Now, he could only cry.
Xander was in his basement, listening to country music, the music of pain. Oz was in his bed, awake, thinking of his Willow and her unacceptable betrayal.
Dru, Spike and Angelus slept in their bed, under black satin sheets. In that immutable sepulchre they were together for the last time.
Buffy and Willow were seated facing each other in the livid dawn, their hands united on the bones, grasses and crosses.
With a gesture, Willow called the globe, and it became visible.
“Where…?” Buffy whispered, amazed.
“Shh…” Willow replied. “I had to make it disappear…or Angelus would have broken it. It’s fundamental for the spell”
Willow put the globe down in front of her.
Buffy held the spell that Willow had taken from Jenny’s floppy. Her soft voice spread in the early morning light. Willow’s lower voice echoed.
“Quod perditum est, invenietur”
“Not dead, not a man”
“We call you, powerful spirits”
“Let him know human pain, oh Gods”
“Reach out to us with your magic hands”
“Give us the sword”
“We invoke…”
The globe disappeared. A white and shining light came over Willow. Like one possessed, she jerked her neck back and cried out in a deep and unknown language.
Buffy stepped back, terrified.
A mysterious power had invaded her friend, priestess of that ancient and filthy ritual.
There was no return.


A mysterious power woke Angelus. He stood up suddenly, and on his naked chest a purifying and painful light appeared…a violent light spread into his eyes. Angelus cried out, like a wild creature.
And the missing piece came back.
Bringing with it only pain.

17. Becoming I.


Screams. Screams like burning arrows piercing his brain…Spike woke up suddenly, dismayed. Was there really somebody screaming, or had he just dreamt it?
Yeah….yes…It was Drusilla. Of course. Again. What was up this time, damn it!
The vampire rubbed his eyes and looked over at her. She was crouched on the edge of the bed, her triangular face wet with tears and melted make–up, her mouth wide in a now silent scream, apparently prey to an unmeasurable pain.
“Dru…luv…what’s up?” he asked, suddenly frightened, leaning over to her.
She didn’t answer. From the bottom of her throat a long, unending whine escaped as she gazed at…Spike followed with astonishment the direction of her glance.
Angelus was lying on the floor, on his side, his head in his hands. And he was crying. Oh, yes…Christ. Angelus cried.
Spike jumped down off the bed and tried to touch him. “Hey…what’s happ…”
But the other vampire didn’t let him finish. He jumped up and ran …ran desperately towards the window which led to the garden. Open to the daylight. To the sun.
« No! » Spike shouted, grabbing him. “Stop, what the hell are you doing!?”
They both fell to the ground, a few centimeters from the lethal blade of light. A light veil of smoke rose from Angelus’ skin, the nearest of the two to the sun, and Spike pulled him back, even as the other was resisting.
God, if he was resisting. He was bigger, stronger. And he was terrified of something. Crazy with fear.
Yet, I’m not giving up on you, Spike thought, I’m not allowing you to burn, my handsome…
To restrain him, he hit him, twice, with all his strength, but Angelus wasn’t reacting to pain. Not to physical pain, at least. He seemed to be listening to…something, and obviously what he heard was horrible beyond any imagination. His eyes, shining with tears, were so strangely wide. And full. So full of bubbling emotions, running across them like clouds in a stormy sky.
“What happened? What has got to you?” Spike asked. Inside him, in a well–hidden place, he had the truth, clear and adamantine; but he refused to admit its existence, because that…was inconceivable. And he persisted in pretending not to understand. Yes, it was better to pretend.
And, Hell’s blood, those eyes…so immense and deep…He believed he never had seen them so beautiful and lively as they were at that moment…a deep, deaf and blind rage took him. Once again, uselessly, he kicked his grandsire’s ribs. “Fuck! Tell me! What is wrong with you!”
His voice died in a sort of sob, while the other, again, tried to escape him. Eventually, with an unpleasant and inopportune gulp, he was obliged to stun him, and to use the old chains that hung from a wall to bind his wrists. Here we are, he told himself, still groggy from disbelief, Europe’s Scourge enchained like a rabid dog.
“…the blonde and the red…” Dru murmured, sing-song, in a nearly catatonic state, half lying on the bed. “..the Witch and the Chosen One have played with the marbles of the universe…all at his place…all upside down”
The truth was in front of him. Impossible for Spike to avoid it, even if it was a mad and incredible one. He finally got it, digested it, and followed his gut instinct. The only certainty he had left.



It had happened. Angelus had a soul. Buffy slowly closed her front door, incapable of calming the quaking of her hands and her furious heartbeat. She knew it. She knew she had done something …blasphemous, disrupted a balance that had lasted for centuries, gone where more powerful creatures than herself had feared to go…She knew it, but she didn’t care. At all.
Even now, while she was going up the stairs, so tired and yet so full of adrenalin, all she could remember was Angelus’ body next to hers, his expression when he reached his peak of pleasure and became, if possible, even more beautiful, those intriguing, mysterious whispers, his human sweetness, so uncharacteristic for a vampire…She felt him in her blood, she felt him everywhere. And the idea of losing him, not being able to touch or even look at him anymore, suffocated her, took her breath away…
No, she didn’t care about anything or anybody. Angelus had won. He had won against the Slayer, he had effectively killed the Slayer. Only vague memories remained of her, within the shell of a little girl, totally, cruelly in love. A little girl who wanted her man. And who, in order to have him, was ready to destroy him. And to rebuild him.
He will suffer, she thought, going down the small corridor, he will suffer, surely, but I’ll help him. I’ll always be with him. And he will love me. He will have to love me.
Lost in her thoughts, she entered her room, still so redolent of Angelus’ persistent musky perfume. And she jumped out of her skin with surprise. Spike was there.
He sat on the floor, back against the wall, waiting. Seeing her, he stood up and his duster slowly flared from his shoulders. His shirt was open, burnt, several other burns stained the white, marble skin of his chest.
That was because he had gone out during the day, without reflecting, without caring about the danger, the pain. Following his instinct.
“Why?” he asked. “Why?” His eyes looked like water, still water. Void of life.
“Where is he?” Buffy replied, a step forward. ”Is he at the Crawford Street Mansion? Is he…in a bad state?”
Spike shook his blonde head. “What an idiot…I was there, babbling, warning you to stay away from him…that he was dangerous…” He smiled, an empty, bewildered smile. “And all the time, the real dangerous one was you…so dangerous that you couldn’t just kill him…”
“You don’t understand!” Buffy exclaimed, hastily. “He loves me. I know it. But he wasn’t ready…his demonic nature prevented him from…So, I had to find a way to force him to accept his feelings…I had to”
On Spike’s face several conflicting emotions showed. “You’re telling me you gave him his soul back…just to make him love you?”
“As I love him” was Buffy’s passionate answer.
The vampire stepped back against the wall, with a wary look in his eyes, opening his hands in the sign of yielding. “Wait a minute, I’m not sure…should I laugh? Or should I cry? I…I…” He burst into a bout of hysterical laughter … Yes, it was better to laugh. If he cried, probably, he wouldn’t stop. Ever. But that vent didn’t give him any release. He sobered, setting his jaw. “Angelus was Evil. Pure, perfect Evil. There was no rage or hate in his actions. Only the pain and pleasure of hunting, the beauty of the predator. And I envied him. I detested him. And I desired him…” He stepped towards her. “The world could crumble, but Angelus was unchanging, our shining star, our landmark, and for you…that was not enough…”
He raised a fist, and Buffy assumed her defensive stance. “Spike, you don’t know what you’re saying…”
“No, he was not enough” he went on, ignoring her. “Angelus gave you more than he gave to any of us…he really couldn’t give you more…he really wasn’t able to. I tried to explain this to you…I warned you about…but, no. You couldn’t content yourself with seducing and weakening him…You had to change him, didn’t you?”
He laughed again, icy cold and furious. “I bet I couldn’t satisfy your standards, either…could I? No, obviously. Buffy Summers demands passion, dark romance, but she also wants the right, sensitive words with it, right? You’re a politically correct bitch, Slayer…”
“Spike, stop…it doesn’t concern you” Buffy interrupted him. She would have preferred to be hit, hurt…as it was, she felt nothing. God, absolutely nothing. Who knows, maybe now she was the one without a soul…and with only one demanding priority.
“Take your Dru and go. I’ll take care of Angelus”
”It doesn’t concern me?” Spike stared incredulously at her. “That is where you’re dead wrong, darling. It certainly does concern me. And keep this in mind. If you dare to go near him…near us…you’ll really embrace the darkness.” He spat on her shoes. “That of your grave”.


The car careened, swerving across the street. He was still, splayed over the steering-wheel, in the burning furnace that black big car became under a pitiless sun. Weird. It hadn’t cost him a thing to tell her. Indeed, it had been…a relief. He hadn’t given her the time to answer back or to attack him. Better the sun than staying there even a single moment, a moment more in that room, with his grandsire’s perfume and that stranger that had destroyed his heart. And his family. An uncomfortable family. Mad. Perverse. But nevertheless his.
He had to get out of the car. Protecting himself with the open duster, he ran in search of refuge in the fresh, cool half-shadow of the high-class mansion.
Drusilla slept on the unmade bed, crouched in a fetal position, exhaustion still visible on her, like a child who had cried too much. Next to her, leaning against the headrest of the bed, long legs folded to his chest, Angelus sat, broken chains hanging from his wrists and nasty burns on his arms. He seemed calm, now. His dark eyes, big and tired, followed the blonde vampire.
“Quiet” he whispered. “Dru just got to sleep”.
“Do you feel better?” Spike asked, sitting down next to the sleeping female. She whimpered.
Angelus lowered his dark head. “No. I was convinced I was mad, before…it wasn’t that bad, at least” he passed his hands over his face, through his hair, and the chains clanked. “It was Buffy, wasn’t it? God, she really learnt her lesson well…I taught her that just by tasting darkness, just understanding how much she liked it¸ she could hope to beat it…Well, she liked me even a bit too much, didn’t she, Spikey?” His expression was surprisingly serene. “And she beat me”
“And…how is it?” In Spike’s voice fear and reverence warred. “How is it to have…a soul? Like it was when you were…alive?”
“When I was alive I didn’t feel like this” Angelus answered, all tense muscles. “I killed so many people…but…they weren’t…for me, they weren’t real people…they were just prey…their faces…faded, vanished…I thought so…But they didn’t…not really. I recall each and every one of those faces, distinctly, now…And now they’re not prey any more, but people…and they are there still, staring at me, asking me for a reason…a reason I can’t give them.”
With his hands, Angelus tortured the fabric of his trousers, nothing in him was really stable, all vibrated and boiled. “In among that crowd, there’s my sister, Kathy…I had forgotten how beautiful she was, how pure…that day, she had been at my burial, and when she opened the door, seeing me in front of her, she took me for an angel…” He laughed, sadly. “No fear…eternal faith…and I broke her neck…so swiftly that her smile lingered on her lips…No, I wasn’t swift out of pity, Hell forbid…I’m sure I wasn’t…I’m absolutely sure I did it that way for aesthetic reasons.” He stared at the burns on his own arms, with a matter-of-fact expression.
“I wanted to run into the sun, earlier…I broke the chains and…But the pain has been too strong…and I felt fear…funny, don’t you think? I didn’t fear death, when I was death…Now, I don’t know what I am, exactly, but I don’t want to die…maybe Buffy liked that about me? My…masochism?”
A solitary tear ran down his cheek, and he was astonished to see a similar tear on Spike’s face. Their burns looked alike, too. For some mysterious, intrinsic reason they were at the same time further apart, and yet closer than ever.
That shocked them both.
“What are we doing?” Spike whispered.
“As in us?” Angelus looked at him, frowning his brow. “There doesn’t exist an us anymore…It doesn’t…”
“Don’t tell me this doesn’t concern me” Spike objected. His chin was trembling. All of a sudden, the ghost of loneliness blew on the nape of his neck, and that icy breath terrified him. It was so easy to hate Angelus…yeah…and even easier to love him. Impossible to imagine a future without him. “Don’t say that”
All in all, he’s still my child, Angelus thought, studying the transparent, fragile eyes of the other vampire. I didn’t bite him, I didn’t choose him, and yet, I made him what he is now…
Him. And Drusilla…the flower I stepped on and soiled…They are my children…And I haven’t any answer to give them…
“What are we doing?” Spike insisted.
Europe’s Scourge dried another tear, and admired the wet trace of it on the back of his hand.
“Let’s wait for the night, pet”

18. Becoming II.

The sun was shining too brightly for a day on which to bury a young, beautiful and lively woman like Jenny Calendar …Jenna from the Calderash clan.
There weren’t a lot of people at her funeral: some colleagues, a couple of girlfriends from out of town. And a tall man, dressed in a weird way, with a curious hat. He had introduced himself as her uncle, Enyos, and he had pronounced over her grave some strange words in some even stranger foreign language.
And he had watched them.
Willow and Buffy felt uneasy under that deep, dark stare. Giles was suffering too much to notice them, to notice their – oh, so obvious – excitement at the enormity of what they had dared.
But that man with the funny hat…ah, he knew.
They had still to find out whether he was there to make them pay…or to thank them.
Now, all of them were still too shocked from pain to talk, all gathered around the grave dug in the soft springtime earth, while the polished coffin of a young, beautiful, talented woman was lowered down inexorably into the dark dirt. A whole life chock full of wasted opportunities.
A long long shiver shook Buffy, while reminding her of the dark words of menace from Spike: she didn’t fear him, she never had, but this time…something in his eyes had warned her that she was playing with fire. The black fire of Evil, the real thing. And that she would pay, if only she dared to go near to him…to Angelus…near to them…
There will be no need for that, Buffy smiled, pleased with herself. It will be him who comes to me. I just need to wait for him to recover, to get used to that pesky soul. And Spike won’t be able to do a thing about it…
The ceremony ended as quietly as it had begun. Giles leaned over to Buffy and took one of her hands between his.
“I couldn’t have stood this without you…without all of you. Buffy…I’m helpless. And I don’t know how to get justice for her. Who did this? Who dared to murder a wonderful woman like…”
“We’ll find him” Buffy lied. “We’ll look for him, and I’ll kill him”
Enyos came closer to them, and the girl shivered.
“There’s nothing more for me here” the stranger said. “I’m happy to see Jenna had friends…she was a wonderful woman, you’re right, Mr. Giles. Her battle, at least, is over”
The man watched Willow and Buffy, cuddled together.
“Children too can use a loaded weapon…and the bullet won’t be less lethal for that. But you need extraordinary wisdom and balance to handle forces you know nothing about”
The man went away without any other comment. Shocked, Willow and Buffy raised their eyes guiltily to Giles
But Giles was crying, and he didn’t notice a thing.



”Would you like me to stay with you, Mr. Giles?” Cordelia asked quietly, while Oz and Willow talked and Buffy and Xander had some sort of hasty conversation. The undertakers had already left.
“Yes, I’d be grateful for that” the watcher answered, feeling at ease with Cordy’s sincere compassion. She was a singular girl, beautiful and witty, popular and one–of–a-kind…and not stupid at all. In that terrible moment, her inner strength calmed him more than the secret but almost tangible animosity running between Oz and Xander, and surely more than the strange vibes Buffy and Willow emanated, which he had noticed, eventually, notwithstanding the deep pain he was in.
He would have to know: some event had obviously disturbed the group’s balance…and he ascribed that to some not so secret affair: at the moment, he had neither the strength, nor the interest to investigate.
He accepted Cordy’s proposal nevertheless, and the two of them walked toward his sancta sanctorum, the Sunnydale High Library.
Oz was almost silent, while Willow tried to talk with him: he was still deeply hurt by her treachery, which she had not denied in any way.
“We’ll talk about it, Oz?” she begged for the umpteenth time, her heart broken by his open refusal.
“Maybe, but not now” he retorted, as politely as possible. “So many things have happened…and this funeral …let me think about it with a straight mind. I have to spend some days in Monterey…we have a gig there…when I am back I’ll see how I feel. But I can’t make any promises now, Will”
She nodded, her eyes full of tears. She knew it, deep in her heart: she had lost him. Oh, God…how could she accept it?
Wasn’t there any spell to make him forget…to make both him and Cordy forget? If only she could have turned time back…
“He’ll forgive you” Buffy told Xander. “Nothing can stop true love. I know it”
“You’re dead wrong” replied her ex – boyfriend, no longer delusional. “Cordy won’t forgive me. And I get it…really, I do. I didn’t react any differently with you. God, what a shock! I didn’t know it hurt so much…”
“I’m sorry” Buffy said, thinking sadly that she hadn’t suffered that much when Xander had broken with her. But then, she had been involved in that troublesome triangle…Spike…and Angelus…
“Come, my dearest” her soul begged. “Angelus…come to me…let’s enjoy our love…our passion…”
How much time did he need to get used to his soul, damn it! Since the spell, a day and a half had already passed!
“Let’s go” Willow said, taking her girlfriend by the arm and exchanging a sorry glance with Xander. Their attraction, both physical and emotional, had vanished all of a sudden, like snow in the heat. Now, all that it was left of it was a sort of sad discomfort.
Buffy followed her quietly. It was almost time for the bell, and she felt so tired, suddenly…she could go home and get some rest…maybe. Angelus won’t come before night, she thought. The events of the past day had taken their toll and the only thing she could think about was the moment she would have her love with her again… The temptation to send Spike to hell and go directly to the mansion was very strong.
Willow’s voice, so deep and sweet, intruded in her thoughts. “I couldn’t ask you before, but…have you had any news about him?”
Buffy nodded, strolling with her girlfriend along the Restfield’s sunny paths. How different those places looked now, under the sunlight! It seemed incredible that she ran there every night. Not far from here, there was the small lake where she had sat with Spike during a night which seemed now so remote to her …
“The spell worked fine” she revealed “Angelus got his soul back…and I believe he’s in deep pain. But he’ll get better soon…and he’ll come back to me”
“Have you seen him?”
“No…Spike came”
“And…”
“He was mad at me. He threatened to kill me if I mixed again in their pathetic lives…He said I’m dangerous…I have defeated Angelus…He really doesn’t get it!”
“Don’t underrate him” Willow warned her. “You told me William the Bloody may be a dangerous enemy”
“Indeed, I’m not looking for him. I’ll wait for Angelus, instead. I know he’ll come: this night at latest”
Buffy took Willow’s hands, before leaving. “Be careful, Will. They could guess you’re involved, somehow. They could make you pay. Don’t let anybody enter your home. Don’t go out at night”
“Right. I’ll follow your advice” Willow reassured her. “Be careful yourself. Give me a sign if you get any news”
“Good” Buffy kissed Willow on the forehead. “I really care about you. Without you, I couldn’t have saved Angelus…both times. You’re an extraordinary witch. Your power is limitless”
“Indeed” Willow smiled. “Very impressive, isn’t it?”
They parted ways, eventually at ease. Buffy was convinced Willow would be able to fix any problem that could arise. Willow was empowered by that idea; she had been strong, powerful, invincible. What did it matter if Oz had left her? If Xander didn’t dare to look her in the eyes anymore? She would cry tomorrow…
Now was the moment to celebrate her power. Absently, she took her keys from the small backpack, and opened the window that led to her room.
A strong arm snaked below her neck, pulling her towards a strong chest.
A whisper caressed her ears. Cool lips slid down the column of her neck, not without causing a long shiver, not a totally unpleasant one, on her soft skin.
“Welcome home…sweetie. Now, be a good girl…and let me in”

With shaky fingers Willow tried to open the lock. The stranger’s right hand fell on her, his long, thin fingers entwined with hers, and he helped her. The lock clicked.
“You must invite me, pet” he whispered, always holding her still, splayed across his chest.
“Come in” she shivered, terrified. And aroused.
The thin barrier dissolved. Willow and the stranger went in, and he closed the door behind him with a kick. She stared at him, her large eyes made larger by fear.
And by something else, a sort of dark enchantment, which she couldn’t decipher.
“You are…” she started, words too dense to melt in her throat.
He tilted his head, and smiled. His blue eyes shone in that yellowish afternoon glow, only partially dimmed by the thin curtains. “Someone you’re in debt to, luv”
“Will…William” she stuttered, staring at his peculiar face…peculiar and unforgettable.
“She called me that?” he smiled. “It doesn’t surprise me. She always had some trouble accepting reality, our little Buffy. She fucked vampires but, God, no one had to know it! We were people, in her eyes…people with bad teeth, and nasty tendencies…small wicked imperfections…she had to take care of those, quickly, in order to make us fit in better at the Prom…”
“I…I don’t…”
“Stay still” Spike warned her, as soon as she moved. “Stay perfectly still. You’re as guilty as she is…maybe more. You put the stake in her hand…and she used it. Twice. Do you dare to think I don’t know why Buffy gave him her blood? To save him? Hell, how naïve do you both think we are?”
“You’ll…kill me?”
“It could be” he laughed “It could be, pet. Let me see if you can make me change my ideas about you”
She paled. His elusive stance, his sarcastic smile terrified her. And they made her panties wet, too, like in a bad horror movie.
“There’s something you can do for me, baby” he smiled again, closing the distance between them and running a finger on the creamy expanse of her neck. A long, almost painful contact. She closed her eyes and parted her lips. Spike lowered his head, closer to her, close enough to feel her breath on his face.
“How accommodating will you be to me…. mmm?”


Angelus smashed the door with a kick.
He didn’t need an invitation to enter, and he didn’t wait for it.
“Get out” he spat to the man sitting on the sofa, next to her. “Me and Darla need to talk”
Delighted by his ardor, Darla raised her chin and smiled. A slow, long smile, such as you could expect from an expert predator, one of those smiles he loved. Angelus looked down: he almost couldn’t stand anymore to look at her.
“Man, get out of here” he repeated, while the young man in Armani and tie next to her got up. He wasn’t tall, but sturdy, and strong. His blue eyes stared at the vampire without fear, with a quiet daring.
“Angelus, I guess” he smiled, and his Texan accent caressed the vampire’s ears. “We were waiting for you”



Darla noticed it then. Several minutes had passed, and Angelus hadn’t killed Lindsey yet. God, that was weird…what in the hell had happened to him?
His looks, first of all. He was in a horrible state. Angelus had always been a dandy, he loved nice clothes, sensual fabrics, he took care of his skin, he used perfumes, hair gel and all that could make him perfect…and as seductive as the Devil himself.
The man, the vampire she had in front of her now was his own shadow. Shocked, hair unkempt, skin marred by hickeys and burns, a dirty burnt shirt on, too many fingers had run through that hair…
And his eyes, those splendid, deep, burning eyes…never so beautiful before¸ so full of painful life…
“Angelus..” she breathed, while a nameless terror seized her heart, which had not beaten for too long .
“Lindsey…I beg you…leave us alone”
“No” he replied. “You could be in danger, Darla, and…”
“Lindsey!” she shouted “Get out”
The lawyer looked at her with…pity. He knew well what would hit her in a few seconds…and he would have given his right hand to spare her this pain. Literally.
But he couldn’t. He loved her, but he didn’t make a part of her history yet…as the vampire did. Angelus.
The two men exchanged stares. The vampire’s eyes, so intense, fell on the young, handsome face of the lawyer. Lindsey backed off. This Angelus version 2.0 didn’t look any less dangerous than the original. He had better not underrate him.
Angelus and Darla stared at each other, now alone.
“I knew it. I knew you would come back. To me” she smiled. “I always knew it. Those were just umpteen flirting quarrels…I just don't know why it took so long this time, my dear boy”
“Darla” he whispered, kneeling, eyes level with her face. “I’m not your dear boy anymore”
He didn’t say it with hate. He didn’t say it with irony.
He said it with an emotion similar to regret. That made Darla turn paler.
“What has happened?” she murmured, fighting not to panic. The change was there, oh – so – evident, nevertheless, if only she could have pretended a little longer…
“Darla..” he repeated, and he caressed her hair. “Oh, how much I’d rather have things going on as usual…let me stay here with you…a bit…Darla…tell me the world is ours…”
She leaned into his hand. With horror, she noticed he was crying.
That was filthy, she felt it with all of herself, something breaking inside her…and she acted in consequence. She pushed him away with all of her strength.
Angelus flew to the other side of the room, legs up, smashing into the wall, burning tears on his face.
There was no more home for him, not even in her deep cold womb. Darla’s womb, her sire’s.
God and Devil had both abandoned him.


“I killed” he whispered, unable to shed the abjection. She was still on the sofa, and stared at him with burning eyes.
“We killed, Angelus. Thousands of times” she whispered. “And it was perfect”
“It was a perfect desperation. And it was as if it had happened millions of times” he replied, eyes lost in space. “Too many…too many to stand. Too often not only to feed. And would you guess? The last time weighs on my heart more then the others. She was beautiful, pure…strong. And I killed her, I smothered her, for fear of this…”
“What is this…what makes you a stranger to me?” Darla enquired.
“To feel again…and to suffer…so much that I…”
Darla rose and leaned over to him, touching him with the point of her feet. “It was the slayer, uh? She cast some spell? You’re still…one of us?”
Angelus flashed his game face without effort. “Yes. Isn’t that some sort of poetic justice? Being one of us…and not being it anymore, at the same time”
“Angelus…you’re telling me that…”
Horror – stricken, Darla took a stake from the desk, one of Faith's leftovers.
He stared at her without fear. Almost… with hope.
“Dust me, Darla…and let's end this freak show. Yesterday I tried to run into the sun, but Spike stopped me. Later, I lost my courage. Let’s end this set and match, Darla…too long it has been going on, between us, since that night in Galway. What I have inside now burns too much. Too much to stand it”
“You…got…your soul…back?”
Angelus had a fit of laughter.
And then he cried.
Darla stayed still, the stake only inches from his heart, ready to kill this abomination who tortured her flesh.
Unable to do so.
“I knew it” Angelus whispered. Painfully, he rose and stared at her. “That was not the reason I came, indeed. I’m hardly connecting, now…but I know there’s something to be done. Spike. And Dru. You have to take care of them….they’re my childes….and I can’t…I can’t any more…”
Darla was crying, too. Terrible tears to be seen on the face of the cold goddess.
“And you…are you going back to her? To the woman who made you this?”
Angelus didn’t answer. He bent and placed a kiss on Darla’s fair head, she was so physically like the other, and yet so different…
“Maybe I found a solution” he murmured. “It’s Jenny’s blood that sings it to me…”
Without any words, more devastated than she had ever thought possible, Darla watched him going away in the falling night. She asked herself, idly, if the soul could be contagious.




“It's after sunset” Cordelia noticed, looking outside the window, over the campus green.
“I’ll get you home” Giles said “You’ve been so kind to stay with me all day long…I’m very grateful”
“I needed some distraction. To catalogue your books in chronological order worked fine. This is not a good moment, Mr. Giles…and I’m not even talking about what happened to poor Miss Calendar…”
Giles struggled to concentrate on anything which was not his pain. “What happened, Cordelia? I had the feeling you had quarreled”
“You really don’t know?” Cordy hissed. “I thought we were the news of the day”
“I know Xander dumped Buffy…for you. But I believed that was over”
“Oh, that's ancient history” she exclaimed. “The burning news is that Xander made out with Willow…at mine and Oz’s expense”
“Uh?”
“You didn’t know, I see. Pure, innocent Willow…don’t you know, Mr. Giles, still waters destroy bridges?”
“Our Willow? With Xander?”
“Yeah…and I’m quite certain you wouldn’t like to know the details of when I found them together, in this same library”
“I really beg to be spared”
“Xander and Oz are barely on speaking terms….me and Willow…well, let’s say we never were friends…and now she's got very close to Buffy. It all stems from her, after all…when she banged that guy…”
“UH?” Giles repeated, this time stronger. “Buffy…what?”
“Oops” Cordelia exclaimed. “Pretend you never heard me say anything”
“Buffy had …a lover?” Giles insisted, not believing a single word, and nevertheless…”That was the reason Xander broke with her?”
“Got it right. A strange guy, an Englishman. Bleached hair, witty mouth…quite a hottie, to be honest…a major hottie, actually”
Giles had a sort of sad foreshadowing.
He had in his watcher’s diary one of the only photos of one William the Bloody, slayer of slayers.
Bleached hair, British.
He took it and showed it to Cordy.
“That’s him?”
She looked at the photo with attention. “Hair is shorter, now…but…it looks a lot like him. No, I’m certain about it: that’s him. Killer cheekbones, tasty mouth…I couldn’t get wrong. When it comes to men, I’m the slayer”
“Cordy, this photo dates from 1974” Giles whispered, mortally serious.
“What?! 1974? That’s not possible, Mr. Giles, the guy is not even thirty, I’m sure…”
The Watcher and the girl exchanged glances. The same idea. Too horrible even to be taken into consideration.
“Oh, my God!” she faltered, bringing her hands to her mouth.
She couldn’t finish her thought. Someone entered the library, cruelly swinging the doors open.
Cordelia stayed open mouthed.
The most beautiful man she ever had seen in her life had just entered the room.
And he looked like he was escaping from a shipwreck.



“Are you Buffy’s watcher? I need help”
“That’s obvious. Hello, salty goodness!” Cordy said, stepping towards him. “My, you’re in a pitiful state. Sit down, I’ll bring you some soda”
“Cordy, be careful” Giles warned her. “Who are you…and what do you want from us? Do you know Buffy?”
Angelus sat on a chair, and stared at them, opening his hands as in a gesture of offering. “I don’t have any bad intentions. Not towards you…not towards the girl. I just need to talk…maybe you’re the only one who can help me.”
Cordy stared at him. Tall, perfectly built, broad shoulders, naturally elegant and hot¸ notwithstanding the state of his clothes. And involved with Buffy? Yet another secret lover? God, she hoped not! “I’d say we can help him, can’t we, Mr. Giles? That’s our mission, isn’t it? Help the helpless, and all that rot…”
“Cordy, take your bag, call a taxi and go home” Giles replied. The visitor didn’t reassure him at all.
“And miss this? Not in your dreams!” she quipped.
“Then, take the crossbow and a cross!”
The girl’s eyed widened: could he be a vampire? Another one? She ran to take the objects Giles had indicated.
“And you, sir…talk”
Angelus sighed, letting his head fall on the table, exhausted. Giles watched him silently.
“I killed” he said. “And I can’t live with it”
“I’m not a priest…and not the police, either” Giles admitted with gritted teeth. “Why did you come to me?”
Angelus raised his head. “Maybe there’s something in your books…something to dissolve what's wrong inside of me…”
“What the hell is he talking about?” Cordelia quipped again.
“Indeed, what are you talking about?” Giles investigated. “I don’t know what you know about Buffy, but…”
“Buffy is the vampire slayer” Angelus laughed, until his laughter broke in a sigh. “And a very efficient one…believe me. She gave to me, instead of taking…she succeeded in an accomplishment that has never been attempted before ”
“He’s a vampire?” Cordy asked. “Damn it, always the hottest ones…”
Giles took the crossbow from her hands…and he pointed it at the vampire’s heart.
“Tell me again why you are here”
“I need this soul taken away”
“What the hell are you…”
“I got my soul back” Angelus repeated. “Jenny Calendar planned to give it to me. I had killed a girl of her clan, the daughter of the king of Rom, in Paris…and they wanted me to pay for that. A soul, for a vampire, only has this value…a source of endless pain. And she almost succeeded…almost…If only…”
“If only…” Giles’ eyes hardened. He got it now. The conclusion of that tale. And he didn’t like it at all.
“If only I hadn’t stopped her”
Giles’ finger caressed the trigger.
“Take my soul away, Mr. Giles…there’s not a single cell of me which can stand it. And then kill me. In that way there will eventually be peace…for me”
That was a plea, if there was one. From the depths of a tortured heart.
But was that plea addressed to the worst person in the world…or to the fittest?
“If Jenny…you killed her, didn’t you?”
“Yes" Angelus admitted.
“Then…who gave you your soul back?”
“Do you really care?”
Giles shook his head. His jaw set, he stared at his woman’s killer.
“The only thing I care about, now, is dusting you”
He shot the arrow.


The library telephone rang. And then it rang again.
“Nobody is answering” Willow whispered, giving it to her guard. Spike took it in his hand, he listened to the monotonous sound, and then he put it back on its cradle.
“We’ll try later” he said, suddenly in a good mood. The little witch was revealing herself as an interesting companion. She had listened to his tales with an almost morbid interest, and he would have found her terrified glances interestingly arousing if only…if only he hadn’t detested her so much.
“Is this a good point?” He asked, laying again on her bed. “Dawn is not so far away…darkness fell a long time ago”
“I…I need Giles. I can’t, all by myself. But…”she hastened, seeing his threatening glance. “I've got all the necessary materials with me”
“Good. We'll call later. Now, come here"
Willow obeyed without faltering. Spike made her sit next to him, and he caressed her cheek. “You’re not playing any dirty tricks on me, are you, witch?”
“No, I’m not” she replied. “Do you want…Do you want to talk about them…again?” She was fascinated by his tales, which opened a window on a world she had only touched until then.
“What for?” he asked, lowering his head next to hers to breathe in her hair’s perfume. “Very soon, all of this will be over”
“But…your girlfriend? How do you think she …”
Spike smiled. “Soon, we won’t have any problems left. All will be resolved”


Payback was a bitch…but thank God all of this would be over. Soon.
Angelus lowered his eyes, enough to see the arrow piercing his chest.
Some millimeters too low. Damn it, the Watcher had missed the target!
The vampire grasped the arrow by the end and extracted it. His rich, dark blood stained his already ruined shirt. Giles took aim again.
“Touch that trigger again and she dies”
Giles followed the sound of the voice. Two female vampires, game face on, held Cordelia in between them, ready to devour her.
“Darla…Dru…” Angelus threw his head back, dead tired. He felt, suddenly, all his 250 plus years, not one less, and he didn’t like that feeling at all. What else to expect, after all? In the last two days he had lived to suffer. Awfully.
“Let her go. I don’t care about dying. He’s got the right to kill me”
“Don’t be silly, love” Darla replied. “I didn’t spare you to have you killed by this dork”
“Darla…I beg you…”
“Grandma is inflexible. You’ll come back with us and you won’t feel the cold anymore…daddy. We’ll be a family again”
Giles lowered the crossbow. This farce was lasting a bit too long.
Angelus rose and stepped towards his women. He raised a hand and held it out to the girl.
Cordelia was terrified…but instinctively took it. He brought her close to his chest, out of reach of the two vampires.
“She comes with me” he said. “I’ll take her home…and you…my dear ladies…go straight to hell”
Darla and Dru, unbelievingly, gazed at him. They were there to save him. They had protected him, just as…just as they knew he would have protected them…given the necessity. And he was sending them to hell?
Dru started to cry. Darla stiffened. She had fought against the evidence…but no more. She had to accept horrible reality.
“He’ll come back to us” she lied to her companion, trying to hide her shock. “He doesn’t know anything else in the world. He has no place to go. He has nothing but us”
Dru nodded, but tears ran down from her big violet eyes.
Angelus took Cordelia by the hand and ran outside with her. The girl, more intrigued than worried, didn’t protest. Giles felt impotent and stayed there, watching the two vampires leave. He locked himself in, too shocked to react.
Only a moment later he noticed: the telephone was ringing.
When he picked the phone up, it was too late. They had rung off.


“Hey, hands off!” Cordelia ordered, loosing herself from his grip. “There’s no more danger…is there? Really? You won’t get grr arghh now, will you?”
“No, I won’t” he sighed, exhausted by tiredness and pain. “I wouldn’t advise you to stay around Buffy”
“Because she is a vampire slayer?”
“Among other things” Angelus brought her to the back gate of the beautiful and stylish villa where she lived, and stared at her while she was fishing in her bag for her keys. “You seem to me a level-headed girl, with quite a dash of good sense. Forget monsters, vampires…and things that go bump in the night”
“And you…Mister…forget suicidal tendencies” she offered. “If Mr. Giles sees you again…he won’t miss next time”
“I know”
“I don’t understand a single thing about your problems…I just can’t get what it means to be a vampire with a soul. But I know there are better things in life than deciding to die. I’d start with avoiding Mr. Giles. And your girlfriends with fangs”
“That’s probably good advice” he admitted. “I hope not to see you again”
“Thanks for the compliment” she smiled, pretty happy…and intrigued. Ooookay…he was a super duper hottie. And as sexy as hell. And dangerous.
God, she didn’t need that kind of problem. She hoped as well not to meet him again. She had a whole life in front of her: graduate, marry Brad Pitt and become a star. She felt it in her bones.
And, most of all, forget all about Sunnydale, Buffy Summers, and things that go bump in the night.
Even when they…those things…had such pain in their eyes…pain she couldn’t ignore.
“Sleep tight, Miss Chase” he smiled despite himself¸ reading the name on the bell.
“Cordelia” she corrected him.
“Good night, Cordelia”
Angelus vanished, as if he had been devoured by the darkness. She thought he looked like a fallen angel.


“Hallo?” Giles whispered into the phone, which was ringing. Again. He was still shocked about what had happened with Angelus. In his amazement, he hadn’t even tried to follow Cordelia and the vampire. Probably, it wouldn’t have helped her, but…God, he had abandoned the girl in Jenny’s killer's hands! Just because he proclaimed himself redeemed….
“Mr. Giles, it’s me” Cordelia announced, lively. “I’m at home, safe and sound in my room. That guy has gone…it’s over”
“Good…I don’t know how you could forgive me…Cordelia…I should have never let you go alone, in the night, with a vampire…a vampire who killed…”
“Jenny, I know” Cordelia replied. “He seemed…so repented. So ready to die. Isn’t it weird? Who could have given him his soul back?”
“I don’t know” Giles pondered. “Maybe that strange type…Jenny’s uncle"
“Do you really believe he could have…changed? The vampire, I mean. And then…who the hell was he?”
”Angelus, Europe’s Scourge. One of the most dangerous vampire who ever walked this Earth"
“Uh – uh” Cordy replied, absent–mindedly. “You know, maybe you should think about this. A good vampire could be of use to Buffy”
“Buffy!” Giles shouted “I need to tell her everything. Now. I need to call her!”
“She’ll kill him, if you tell her what happened”
“And then that would be bad because…” Giles replied coldly.
Cordelia had nothing to oppose that. He was a monster…and Jenny’s killer. Among his other victims. As any other vampire. She thought about her friend Harmony, found bloodless in the trash, dead at seventeen. She shivered.
Cordelia said her goodbyes to Mr. Giles and went to her window.
She paused to wonder. What would she do…if only she saw him again?



The telephone rang again. Giles, feeling aggravated, picked it up.
“Cordelia, don't you try again to convince me that…”
“Mr. Giles, it’s me, Willow. Listen to me”
Giles stood still. Willow’s voice didn’t leave any doubt: she talked business. She was terrified and clear minded, too. As usual.
“Mr. Giles, I’m held hostage by one William the Bloody. He wants something from me….a spell. And he wants it before dawn…otherwise, I’ll die. I can’t perform it by myself. You must come, NOW. If you warn Buffy…we’ll both die”
“I'll come immediately” Giles whispered. “Do you need anything?”
“Nothing, but hurry. He’s getting nervous”
Giles took his crossbow…and then let it fall. He didn’t intend risking any of his children’s lives. Not after what had just happened with Cordelia.
Somehow, a strange idea took possession of his mind. There was a thin red line connecting all the dots, Angelus’ soul, his vampires’ rage, Willow held as a hostage by William the Bloody. And, most of all, the disturbing relationship of that vampire with…
Not it was crystal clear. That red line could only be Buffy.
How could he have not thought about it?
Willow, hostage or not, was in for some answers.


Willow addressed Spike.
“He’s coming”
“Good” he replied, kissing her lightly on the forehead. Willow shivered…but she didn’t back off.
“I’m tired of waiting” the vampire said.



Giles arrived at Willow’s in a few minutes. The house was deserted: as usual, her parents were out, very busy with their active social lives. That was a good thing, obviously. Less innocent blood around.
He knocked on the door and Willow opened. She was pale, her hair dishevelled…but all in all she looked fine.
Giles went in, opening his hands, to show the vampire he wasn't carrying any weapon.
“Come in, Watcher” the vampire invited him, comfortably lying on the bed, arms crossed behind his head, cigarettes on the little bedside table. “I don’t bite”
Giles was furious. Willow could tell from the thin line of his lips. And she also had the uncomfortable feeling that his rage…in good part…was directed towards her.
“I have had an unpleasant evening” Giles said, in a low voice, in which his fury vibrated. “Your friend Angelus came to the library…and told me he killed Jenny Calendar…and has a soul. But that’s not all. Later, two adorable vampire ladies arrived…a blonde and a brunette…both gifted with really effective fangs…and threatened me and a student”
“And Angelus?” Spike asked, bemused in spite of himself.
“He sent them to hell. Unfortunately, only verbally”
Spike mirth vanished all of a sudden.
“Now…Willow…dear” Giles said. “My mind…maybe too analytical, I admit…sees a line connecting the dots. Would you be so kind as to reveal it to me?"
Willow didn’t answer.
Spike rose from the bed with a single, fluid movement…and stepped towards the Watcher.
“Do you really want to know?” he asked, softly.
“Yes” Giles answered, disappointed by the guilty, self–conscious silence of Willow.
Spike smiled. But there was no joy in his smile.
“Your dearest slayer, Miss Buffy Summers, fucked both Angelus and me. At the same time, and in the same bed, too. She gave him her blood, almost to the last drop, to save him, Europe’s Scourge…and when he killed Jenny, she played God…and gave him his soul back…all with the help of Miss Witch, of course. And she did it to make him love her”
Giles sat down.
“Some strong beverage wouldn’t be totally inappropriate, now”
“Sadly, we don’t have the time” Spike replied, almost kindly. “Ladies, Gentlemen…a spell awaits us”
“I know what you want” Giles replied. “Angelus wants nothing more. He came to me in the library for it…and I had the opportunity to put an arrow through his dead heart. Unfortunately, I missed. Angelus wants us to find a way to take away his soul…and make him again that immoral and cruel beast he was”
“Cruel?” Spike laughed, and caressed Willow’s hair, almost affectionately. She didn’t react. “Here is someone who really defines the word cruel…Not to mention your precious slayer. No, don’t fear…I won’t dish the dirty details…and that’s not out of some sort of weird respect for the lady, either. Believe me”
“I know nothing about spells which remove souls" Giles shouted. “Willow…did you find anything?”
Willow had a fit of coughing.
“What’s up?” Giles said. “What else are you hiding from me, Willow? I really can’t fathom this. You and Buffy have dared to risk the universe’s balance in such a mad and irresponsible way!”
“Now, you’re hurting her, Giles” Spike protested, with mock affection. “And we can’t have that. She’s very proud of herself. And I need her at her best, tonight”
“We don’t have any choice. Fine, anyway: I’ll talk with my girls when we are alone. Your opinion, as a demon, really doesn’t affect me. I’ll never ask for it”
“Watch the insolence, Watcher” Spike replied. “Red…let’s do it”
Willow prepared the necessary ingredients. She shot a glance in Giles’ direction: he was even more altered.
Giles tried to get out of the pitiful torpor he had fallen into after all those unpleasant surprises. What a night! And things were only getting worse.
“When we take Angelus’s soul…he’ll follow us and kill us, won’t he?”
Spike looked at him with real surprise.
“Watcher, you keep on misunderstanding me. Who talked about taking Angelus’ soul?”
Giles stared at him, dismayed. Willow, on the other hand, kept on working.
“There’s no way in this world to take his soul away. Your dear girls have learnt their lesson well. At least…he won’t be alone. In this adventure, I mean. And he won’t leave me alone, either”
Spike smiled, and moved nearer to Giles.
“Now the Witch and you will give my soul back. To me”.


Exhausted and torn to pieces by the waiting, Buffy eventually came back home. It was two in the morning, and her mother was sleeping, as usual, ignoring her movements.
There was still some secret hope that Angelus was waiting for her in her room. She was almost sure of it…
As soon as Buffy entered her home, the sitting room light was switched on.
“Angelus…”she whispered, a breath of relief escaping her lips. The long waiting had ended.
But it was Joyce. Pale, stiff, in her dressing gown, with bed hair. And mortally serious.
“Where…the hell…have you been? It’s twenty past two! Don’t you have a watch with you?”
Buffy was more amazed than dismayed. That was first time…in two years…that her mother had waited up for her. First time…since her father had left them.
“Mum…I’ve been at Willow's…studying…”
“To this hour?” Joyce asked, furious. “They called from school. They called me in the gallery and told me you weren’t there, this morning. They told me you had been at a funeral. Why in the world didn't you tell me? “
Buffy let her backpack fall and ran her fingers through her hair. This version of her mother was quite unpleasant.
“I didn’t want to worry you. One of my teachers is dead, Miss Calendar…she was very young. She was killed”
“Buffy…for God’s sake…I’m your mother. You could have told me. You should have told me. You’re shocked. I’d have helped you, we could have gone together to a psychologist…”
“A …psychologist?” Buffy laughed, angrily. “One of those you attend? Do you really believe he could solve anything?”
“I…don’t know. Maybe” Joyce admitted. “We could have talked about it. He would have helped us…to be in contact, the two of us. Today you lied to me. What if you've lied to me in the past, too? All of your absences, at night…all of your nights at Willow's…your going out late…maybe I wasn’t careful enough …maybe my job keeps me too busy…”
“Indeed” Buffy laughed again, without any pity. “You are always looking forward to going to work…just to avoid me. Your precious life, your job…isn’t it better not to know? Not to see? If only you knew….” Under the desperate, unbelieving stare of her mother, Buffy’s poison poured out of her mouth, in a flux of joy. “If only you knew what I do, with whom I do it, under this same roof…”
“Buffy…what are you saying? “
Buffy realized all of a sudden what it meant. Her mother. Who was staring at her like she was a banshee.
Her expression closed.
“Nothing. I’m spazzing out. I’m only tired, and saddened. I was very close to Miss Calendar…you’re right, I’m shocked. Maybe I really should visit a psychologist. Maybe one of those who had me in therapy in Los Angeles…when I talked about hunting vampires…”
“You’re not having those fantasies again, are you?” Joyce investigated, terrified of the idea that Buffy’s mental illness was back.
“Of course, no” Buffy smiled, thinking with a shudder o her fortnight spent in a clinic for mental diseases. She had learnt very soon to lie. “Those were scams”
Joyce fell back into her denial. It stood strong even in the face of the evidence. Yep, that was more comfortable. Yeah, they’d see a psychologist, maybe together, and all of this would be solved…
“I’m very tired, mom” Buffy said, dryly. “Today was a nightmare. I beg you, let’s talk about it tomorrow morning. We’ll be less tired …and we’ll see everything clearly”
“Right” Joyce yielded. Like this, it was easier, wasn’t it? “Tomorrow morning. Sleep tight”
Buffy kissed her on the forehead, and went to her room, with only one hope in her heart.
A frail one, indeed. Angelus wasn’t there…nor was there any message from him.
Sighing, Buffy undressed, put on her pajamas and went to bed. She glanced at her watch. Almost three in the morning: dawn wasn’t far away. Angelus wouldn’t come.
She was restless, sleep was eluding her.
“Come to me” her soul begged, without pause.
“Come to me….”


Angelus came.
They were making love. Slowly, deeply, deep voluptuous thrusts, his cool lips on her neck, on her thigh (and the blood ran…) and him, on her, dominating her…
And then those dark eyes turned blue, as clear and cloudless as a tropical sky, and William’s beautiful and sensitive face was taking the place of the tormented, dark Angelus’ visage. Now, it was she who dominated him: the blonde vampire’s hands were cuffed, and the key was hers…but she had lost it. He would never get free from her grasp.
“Let’s dance together” William said, and she nodded, moving on him, sensually, their union immediately near to the point of no return. Now, his blue eyes changed to dark brown, and his virile appearance became feminine, elegant…carnal…
“Let’s dance together” Faith whispered, her sister in blood, the dark slayer. She was naked, and their dance wasn’t any less sensual, exciting…”I know you wanna do it” Faith said, and her dark hair became red…and Willow’s golden eyes tormented her…”I know you can do it” Willow said, naked under her, smiling, dangerous…
Buffy took the stake and sank it in the white, chiseled chest. Spike’s.
And then she took a sword…and sank it in the wide, solid chest of Angelus.
Spike…Angelus…
Both were dust.
Both had been destroyed by Buffy, the vampire slayer.
Slayer extraordinaire.
“The price of power is loneliness…” Willow screamed, and Buffy came…


Dawn. Willow, exhausted, prepared the last items. Giles wasn’t less tired, but he rose in front of her. A quick gesture of Willow’s hand made the Thesulah globe reappear. It was the same that had vanished during the spell aimed at giving Angelus his soul back.
“We’re ready” Giles said, coldly.
There was a time for reproofs¸ recriminations…but this was hardly it. He was furious, and disappointed, but he didn’t want to pour his anger out on Willow in front of the vampire. They would have time for that later…should they survive his fury.
In a moment in between the darkest hours of that endless night, Giles had understood that there was a treachery which hurt him even more than the careless magic of Willow and the unacceptable transgressions of Buffy. That of Jenny.
She hadn’t been honest with him. She had lied about the real reason for her staying in Sunnydale…and her real aim. Dozens of times he had talked with her about Angelus, and she had stayed silent.
But from whom on the Earth could he exact his justice? The woman he loved, and who died, had lied to him.
The vampire lay still on the bed, groggy from those days’ emotions and the coming of dawn, arms crossed, all in all the corpse he was. Willow and Giles exchanged glances. That was the moment.
The herbal smoke clouded the room, sending them into a state of torpor similar to death. But that was a luxury none of them could afford, and they started reciting the old litanies.
“Quod perditum est, invenietur”
“Not dead, not a man”
“We call you, powerful spirits”
“Let him know human pain, oh Gods”
“Reach out to us with your magic hands”
“Give us the sword”
“We invoke…”
All following the script. Spike’s eyes closed slowly, while Willow fell into a state of trance.
A trance even more violent that the previous one, a trance which terrified Giles.
The globe broke in a thousand pieces, this time, and Willow screamed, out of herself.
A terrible pain overran Spike’s chest, it put a light in his barred eyes…and then darkness reclaimed him.


A coffin in the night. Cold, dark….Buffy opened her eyes. She had to get out of there…even if the world outside would be cold and dark, as damp as the earth of her grave…and a lot less consolatory.
She scratched with her nails the satin inside and shouted without voice, in that new, pitiless birth.
The certitude, the terror of the unavoidability of that event, somewhere on her path. And that because she had…dared…hadn’t she?
Dawn brought a caress of death to her sleep, which went on and on…


Spike rose from the bed, breathless.
His body forgot for a long, long, horrible moment it didn’t need to breathe…and he was racked with pain, falling from the bed, as dead as a corpse.
Giles and Willow were powerless, but they stepped towards the vampire.
He looked at them with blind eyes…and sent them away with a violent push, which smashed them against the walls.
In the rising day, William the Bloody went out from that middle–class house which was totally extraneous to him and ran towards the sun.
A thousand voices were calling him. None of them consolatory. All of them were accusations, shouted, whispered, murmured…cried. “William, William, bloody awful poet…”They laughed at him. “Village idiot, shame of your blood, failure of your class, disappointment for your mother, horrible, horrible, pathetic…” He cried, while the dawn rose, and the black of the night became gray.
“William is dead, his mother cries for him…” said another voice, a feminine one. “Isn't this amazing? He hadn’t any value, he was worthless, he was just a burden…”
“William” called a girl. “What are you doing? I had a right to refuse you, you were so beneath me….are you killing me?” And her broken neck was already hanging, still.
“Are you killing me? “ asked the black slayer, tough and beautiful, her strong, arrogant body dressed in black leather. “Try it, vampire, if you can, and I’ll have your dust…”
“I don’t speak Chinese” William replied to the other slayer, the little, pretty one, his first slayer. Her adorable doll face was stained with blood, and she became petite and blond and sensual. “I’m yours…yours…yours…” and her stake tortured his chest. “Find us in the sun!” all of them cried. The three slayers. Together . He was tempted to realize their desire.
The world was different. The world was burning, as was his chest…his…soul…
Flames and colors bright enough to burn your heart.
Devastating and tearing to pieces…


Savanna was singing tales of death, and she was dancing around the bonfire. Buffy dreamt, and her strength was that of her sisters in blood…Faith…and all the others…kill and fuck…kill and fuck…


William screamed.
Sun was touching him. He understood it a moment before it was too late.
He ran. He ran desperately, out of breath, towards the Crawford Street mansion. It burned…burned…God, what an idiot he had been…if only he had known it burns like that…
He arrived panting in the rock garden of the mansion, and he entered the cool house, his skin already burnt in patches…his mind and heart boiling…
Dru was standing, near the cold mantel of the fireplace. She was waiting for him.
A touch of a smile on his lips. Not all was lost. He still had Dru. He had been fools’ king, to look for that filthy punishment which was bound to torture him until his dusty end, now he knew it…but he still had Dru. He wasn’t really alone.
She stared at him with clear eyes, just once.
“They gave you your soul back. I've lost you too” she whispered.
William nodded, his heart broken, the smallest smidge of comfort in knowing, in that sea of tears, that she still loved him. She was still his.
She smiled.
“I kneeeew it!” she sang, and then she left, with a sounding whoosh of her gowns…leaving him behind, desperately alone.
His last effort took him, in the last impetus of desperate hope, to Angelus’ bedroom. Only he could understand him…at the end, that had been the reason, hadn’t it? Envy, consolation, loneliness…he really couldn’t leave Angelus alone. He really couldn’t let Angelus leave him alone.
They had to share everything…pain and pleasure of the hunt…strength and frailty of the night…Buffy’s sex…and now this…
But Angelus wasn’t there. All the big rooms upstairs were empty, too.
William shouted, desperate, the soul burning inside him.
Now, he understood. He wouldn’t have Dru…now she was so far away, like a galaxy in a cold winter sky. All of a sudden he saw her as she was, as she had always been: a demon, lifeless, mindless, whose original innocence had been broken without pity. There wasn’t anything more in her for him, now…there had never been. But he had been too blind to notice. His own disappointment, in noticing it, was in itself so pathetic and human and painful…and he wouldn’t have Angelus, either. There was no loneliness like their loneliness, now that they felt again. Anne Rice was dead wrong: what did she knew about vampires, after all? This was the dark gift: the soul which connected them again to the terrific and pitiless humors of humanity…
Dismayed, he fell to the floor, eyes closed, full of the sourest tears.
Tears which burnt his skin.
And he screamed, screamed as long as he could.

.

William screamed. She sank the stake, again.
His dust stayed on the ground, between her naked thighs.
Buffy awoke all of a sudden, panting. She had had an orgasm, and she had had it with the longest, creepiest and most terrible dream of her existence. God, that coffin…it had been so real…and the pain and the elation she had felt in killing Spike and Angelus, her lovers…
And Faith…Willow…naked with her in that bed, so self–conscious…
Breathless, she widened her eyes. Now she was completely awake. The small electrical clock was blinking 6:10, and in the frail light of dawn she noticed she wasn’t alone anymore.
Angelus was in the room’s shadow, the morning light already pouring from the window.
He was back, at last.

19. Redefinition


He was back.
Burnt, dirty, dishevelled….but she had never seen him so beautiful.
There was something intense and vibrant in him, now, something so bright it hurt her eyes…But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was him. There. Forever. Hers.
She ran into his arms, hiding her face against his chest and discovering again his musky smell, oh–so-persistent… She felt him return her hug, and their lips met, finding each other, drinking in their essences, with an aching casualness…
Oh…what a feeling to kiss him again, to touch him…I can die, now, Buffy thought. She was beside herself with the sheer joy of having him back…she knew he belonged to her, his lips were telling her the truth...he loved her…
Angelus raised her almost painfully, then he let both of them fall on to the bed, devouring her mouth with feverish kisses; and Buffy surrendered, without noticing, without wanting to understand…how much those caresses were desperate and painful, baffled and blind…
“Darling…I’m so sorry…”she whispered, panting “I made you suffer, but that was for love…just love…”
He relaxed, all of a sudden, and pulled away a little from her, in order to watch her, moving his lips slowly on hers with sour sweetness… “Love?”
He smiled, lightly, resting on his elbow. “Are you sure about that? Do you really believe this is love? You wanted me and you took me, you subdued and broke me to get me to change, to be what you wanted…I know somebody who used to act exactly that way” His stare became distant, but then, he looked at her, inexorably, full of self – awareness and sad sincerity. “It was me. I acted that way. And I can tell you one thing: that was not love”
He sat up, loosing himself completely from her embrace. “That was possession. Prevarication. Love…I don’t think I’ve ever really known it. But I suspect…it even goes beyond that”
“Wh – what are you talking about?” Buffy stuttered, deadly pale. “You’re here. You love me…don’t you?”
Angelus seemed to reflect on that, then he shook his head, pressing a hand to his forehead, as if to ease an aching pain. “I told you so. I said you couldn’t understand the heart of a vampire. And I came to you, on my knees, asking you to say that you loved me…” His eyes widened, lost. “And you didn’t understand why?”
He stood, suddenly, with shaking hands. “I have lots of flaws. But I’m not stupid…”
“What?” Buffy was frightened. His gestures, his attitudes…They reminded her of hers, in that horrible fortnight in the psychiatric Institution…that was the effect of a soul?
“Spike” Angelus replied, crouching on the bed and squeezing her hips hard with his hands. “Romance runs in his blood…you could have raised your finger and he would have gladly been your knight for the rest of your life…but you wanted me. And I know why. I was the predator, the dominator, that one you didn’t have power over…the one who could get you on your knees…the wrong boy…” He bent his head down to her knees, his mouth on the sensitive skin of her thighs. “And I adored your innocence…your surrender…another flower…another flower to soil…” He laughed, moving back, falling on to the carpet. “What an idiot…it was just the opposite, instead…you’ve always been on top, haven’t you? And I allowed you to be…”
Large tears ran down Buffy’s cheeks. ”I…I don’t understand you.”
“No… of course you don’t ….” Angelus sighed. The sunlight was almost touching him, but he ignored it. “A few hours ago…it was still dark…I attacked a man…I was hungry…terribly hungry…but I didn’t kill him…I let him go… and I vomited up the blood…Do you get it?…No…obviously you don’t” He opened his arms. “I can’t hunt now. Hunting was my essence…and you took it from me, in giving me back my soul…the predator you love is dead, Buffy. He doesn’t exist anymore…” He waited, gulping. “And in his place…I still don’t know what there is”
She let herself fall from the bed, anchoring herself to his shoulders. “No…please…listen to me…”
“I feared nothing” Angelus interrupted her, caressing her hair. “I didn’t need a purpose. The only one I had was to pursue my pleasure, the challenge of the hunt …until you gave me back all of this…emotion, fear, the necessity of a goal…you’ve truly defeated Europe’s Scourge…”
”No…no…I beg you…” she took his sleeve, so dirty and burnt. “You must listen to me. I love you and…”
“And…what?” He asked her, all playful tenderness. “What do you want from me? At this moment, I can’t tell right from left, babe. What could I do? Stay put here, in your little room, like a good pet with bad teeth, waiting for you to bring me back a fresh stash of blood? Would you really like it that way?” He took her face in his hands, and it was wet with tears. “I tell you again: the predator is dead. You killed him”
Buffy hugged him, sinking her nails in his back, shocked, terrified. “I didn’t love the predator. I loved you…”
“Me?” Angelus loosed himself again from her embrace, tiredly this time, and stood up. “How could you love me? You don’t even know me…”
“I just want to stay with you” she insisted, in a small voice.
“I don’t” he said, towering over her, sad and resolved. “You’re the predator, now…And I have already had too many of them. I don’t need another.” He took the blanket and stepped to the window.
Furious, Buffy kicked out at the bedside table, breaking a lamp.
“Then…what? Why did you come back to me? Why did you kiss me so passionately?”
Angelus leaned on the window - sill. His right side was smoking.
“Because you’re right. All in all…I love you” He looked at her, sadly. “But in our case, love is sadly not enough…”
She was shaking with sobs. She almost didn’t see his form jumping down from the window, covered by the blanket, but she extended her hands, in a last, useless, mad attempt to stop him….


“They both have a soul, now…” Mayor Wilkins mused.
“This is the stuff of legend, seriously…and you Wolfram & Hart types knew it, didn’t you? Terrific.”
“It was not certain, obviously” Lindsey admitted, his blue eyes glinting in the sun. “But our mystics were quite sure about it. Sunnydale’s slayer had to be the key for change, and two souls were on the road already…two very important souls” He smiled, toying with the gold cuff-links of his expensive shirt. “Darla played her part and revealed herself to be a good diversion, taking our target’s attention…”
”Angelus…a dark desire for everybody…all of them want him, all desire him….” The Mayor laughed, amused. “I don’t envy him. And…what are your projects for him and his bleached companion, now?”
Lindsey rose from the chair, adjusting his jacket. “Sorry, Richard…I’m not authorized to discuss the Senior Partners’ plans. Why don’t we talk instead about your future Ascension? A year goes by very quickly, here on the Hellmouth…”
They moved out of the office, chatting amiably, and Faith moved too, to the window, leaving the sofa she had been sitting on cross-legged, eating candies.
She saw the black limo down in the street, fitted with necro–tempered glass. The chauffeur was waiting for Lindsey, Darla and that psycho vamp, to take them to the City of Angels. She frowned, and rubbed her sugar-coated fingers on her jeans. Souls…they were everyone’s favourite topic lately. Vampires didn’t have them but…what a surprise…it looked as if it wasn’t too difficult to get a second–hand one, in case of need.
A soul…what was that for?
She had had hers from birth and it didn’t seem to matter that much. Humans killed, raped, lied and maimed. And they didn’t need the excuse of a demon inside to do so. Not at all. No different from demons themselves.
She tossed back her dark hair, stretching. Shit. There was no reason to lose time and sleep on that topic: her boss petted her like a lovely father; dear old B. was still begging to be annoyed a bit, and the whole of Sunnydale was waiting to be conquered…fuck the soul!
She smiled openly at the sun flooding through the windows, and from the other side of the street Lindsey saw her, beautiful, dark and controversial. Promising. The Mayor had chosen himself a fledgling with a lot of character…
He opened the limo door and jumped in, careful not to let the light enter. Drusilla was whimpering like a frightened pet on Darla’s bosom, and the blonde was stroking her dark hair with a bored expression.
“What’s up with her?” Lindsey asked, irritated by the dark vampire’s voluminous velvet gown, which separated him from the blonde.
Darla smirked. “She is totally mad. That’s ‘what’s up with her’.”
“And you?” Lindsey whispered, his voice lowering and getting pleasantly deep. “How are you doing?”
She recognized that tone as one of desire. Why not, after all?
Fucking was better than nothing, when you needed to set your pain aside.
“Me? I’m hungry…” Showing her little white teeth, she raised Dru’s chin. “Darling…what about stopping crying, uh?” She put her thumb in her mouth and the other vampire, widening her violet eyes, started to suck it.
“Good girl, fine…”Darla nodded, stretching. “Now, let’s play with uncle Lindsey…all right?”

.
In the Sunnydale underground network there were many deserted tunnels and galleries, and one of those led directly under the Crawford Street mansion. Angelus ran the last few metres that separated him from the building’s entrance, covered by the smoking blanket which still smelt of…her. There was something good in his burns, after all. They shredded his body to pieces. It was not bad. He would take care of them, eventually. Now, he was safe. The oldest burns had already started to vanish, and the recent ones…well, they hurt. Hell, a lot. Good. Physical pain warred with the other pain, the one that burned his mind. The sun was almost a comfort.
Somebody was moving around the silent mansion, alarming him. Damn it, that story had clouded his senses but he realised, at last, he was not alone. He walked slowly, cautiously, across the big hall: he wasn’t sure of his reflexes now, if they were good enough to deflect an attack. Then he saw the figure crouched against the fireplace. Spike. Dirty with ash and burns. The same burns as his.
Shocked, Angelus bent down to him. He looked at him and it was like hearing off-key music, some notes were missing, another was overwhelming….What the fuck…. ?
Spike’s eyes answered him, a little less blue than usual, changing, open eyes reflecting a mutable sky, impossible to look at…
“Your soul…” Angelus murmured, astonished, raising a hand toward his face. “They have…damned you, too?”
Suddenly, hysterical, grim laughter burst out. It was Spike. “No!” He shouted. “It was me! I got it back!” The laughter deepened. “I ask you…could I have been more idiotic?”
Angelus stared at him.
And he laughed too.
Heartily, as he had never laughed in the last dozen years. Maybe centuries. They laughed, together, to exhaustion, for long, tiring minutes, until they both fell back on their elbows, exhausted, empty, groggy.
“Why?” Angelus asked. “Fuck, why?”
“Don’t you know?” Spike replied. “You got yours…so now I get mine too. It has always been like that, between us, hasn’t it?”
“God…Spike…you and your unquenchable competitive spirit…” Angelus sighed. He wanted to laugh again, but at a certain point laughter died, like tears, and only silence remained, an emptiness in the chest. “And I even tried to get rid of it…”
Spike shook a finger. “Never, Sir. Damnation is irreversible. Our precious souls are back, irremediably” He looked at his grandsire and his mouth slackened, the expression of an amazed baby. “You have been with her…I smell her on you…”
“Yes” Angelus tossed his head back, discovering he still had laughter in him, after all. “As you can see, it is possible to be even more idiotic…!”
“Stop, please” Spike moaned, drying his eyes. “If you laugh, you’ll start me off again…And I don’t want to. My stomach aches…”
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry” Angelus threatened him
“No, please…then let’s laugh…” The blonde vampire massaged his abs, shaking his head. “How did it happen? How could we both fall in love with that girl, allowing her to reduce us to the trembling shadows of what we were? To reduce us so…” Spike smirked. “Look at us. What a mess. Europe’s Scourge and the Slayer of Slayers crouched on the floor like a pile of rags, laughing madly like lunatics waiting for a lobotomy…”
Angelus got serious, and turned on his back, his face raised towards the high ceiling. “You killed two slayers, right…and do you recall what you told me about them? They wanted it. They had desired death and danced with it. Maybe it was the same for us. Maybe we were just tired…and we wanted it”
“Wanted…what?” Spike looked sceptical and at the same time tempted by that theory.
”To change?…dead people don’t change. And we’re dead. But that girl was toxic. Toxic with life…” Dark eyes met blue ones. “And now we have another chance…”


“Mr. Giles!” Buffy shouted, entering the library. “I need Willow, have you seen…”
Her words stopped dead in their tracks. And it was not the sight, either…
Willow sat on the big square table, around which all of them used to gather to solve problems…and Giles was walking, back and forth, sleeves pushed up, glasses in his hand. A normal scene. If only…
No. She was silenced by the expressions her best friend and her watcher wore. Willow seemed to have been crying. A lot. Her face was swollen, pale, and Giles…God, Giles’ stare could have frozen a desert.
“So, you need Willow?” He asked, icily. “For what purpose, may I ask? Which other cosmic law do you plan to overturn today?”
Buff tried to smile, uncertain. A dark foreshadowing shook her. “I don’t…follow you…”
“He knows” Willow muttered. “All of it, Buffy. Everything.”
“Exactly” Giles confirmed, coldly. “I know you were the lover of both Angelus and William the Bloody…I know Angelus killed Jenny, and I know you were aware of that and, notwithstanding, you planned to have that monster back…and I know about the spell. I know…” He stopped, noticing eventually that he had crushed his glasses to splinters in his hand…”What I don’t know is…where did I go wrong? Where did our ways part, and when did I stop knowing you…?”
He stared at her, blood flowing from his cut fingers. “I don’t know, maybe I never knew you…”
“I wish I had an explanation for you…” she stuttered, fixing her empty, large green eyes on him. Void of resistance, of any desire to defend herself, to deny.
“But you haven’t. No explanation, no excuse. You don’t have one, nor has Willow…nor I. I, the grown-up, the one who didn’t see or understand anything, who didn’t want to see and understand…” Giles tossed the broken glasses into the trash basket and took out of his jacket a clean white handkerchief to stop the small blood loss. ”I will forgive you, Buffy…I’m sure I will. Eventually. But not now. For now…I want you to go away. Please. I need to be alone”
Buffy nodded, her legs weak, incapable of moving. Willow took her kindly by the arm and guided her out, down the crowded corridor, a river of anonymous faces to hide in, with the illusion of belonging. But that was just the latest of her lies.
“He will forgive you” Willow repeated, with a resolute face and a toss of her red hair. “He’ll forgive us. According to his own admission, it’s an adult’s duty to forgive teens’ mistakes, isn’t it?” She smiled, encouragingly, at Buffy, but she saw that the other girl hadn’t even heard her.
She kept walking, slow, small steps, avoiding everybody, without even noticing which way she was going.
Willow forced Buffy to stop. “Are you okay?”
“He doesn’t want me…”
”Mr. Giles? Bullshit. It’ll pass…”
“No…not Giles. Angelus… “ Buffy ran her fingers through her hair, her brow wet with sweat.
“I betrayed my watcher, I put my best friend in danger, I ignored my mission …and all for nothing. He doesn’t want me. He loves me, right, but he doesn’t want me…”
“That was the reason you were looking for me? To help you again?”
”Yeah…no…”Buffy put her head in her hands. “I don’t know, Will…I don’t know anymore…”
”I couldn’t” Willow commented, sadly. “I’m exhausted. I’m still not strong enough for a spell to manipulate feelings. All in all, you got what you wanted. He loves you. But you know the old saying. Be careful what you wish for…you may get it. I’m sorry.”
”Are you sorry? Really? Then why did you open your big mouth to Giles?” Buffy’s voice was hard, chock full of unspoken frustration. She couldn’t stand her friend’s compassion, nor her faux vulgar show of wisdom.
Willow paled. “It wasn’t me!” she exclaimed. “It was Spike!”
“Spike?”
”When I got back from the funeral, he was at my home. He kidnapped me, he made Giles come to us and he forced us to..” Willow stopped, lowering her gaze.
“Forced you to do…what?” Buffy pressed her.
“To give him his soul back” Willow answered, her eyes still full of wonder for the weirdness she had witnessed. “His soul”


The artificial lake was surrounded by graves, a bench, a dark, damp, humid night. All exactly as it had been a few weeks ago. But several eons had passed and nothing was the same anymore. Nothing at all.
Buffy sat, her shoulders hunched, her face expressionless. She had wandered for hours and now a dead tiredness weighed on her. If I had killed Spike as soon as I saw him, she wondered, maybe…no. She shook her head, touching her breast. There. Angelus had always been there. Maybe even since some superior power had chosen her. Her destiny. Maybe since then somebody had written about the slayer drawn to the forces of evil and her dark prince, about the passion which would have burnt both, eating their flesh and their hearts. And the irony was that she hadn’t lied. She really loved what was behind the predator, the boy she had seen suddenly, in his eyes, his gestures, his words…despite everything. But she couldn’t convince him of that. And now she knew it, with terrible certainty…she could never love anybody else as much as she had Angelus…All who followed would pay for that love, destroyed and lost…
She noticed his presence immediately, and it felt absolutely natural. The circle had to close where the game had started.
“You did it for him, didn’t you?”
Spike exited the shadows and sat down at the other end of the bench. He hugged himself, caressing the duster, feeling cold. His bleached hair was a mess of rebellious curls.
“Yeah. But for different reasons than yours” He smiled vaguely. “I still haven’t found anybody able to resist him, to avoid falling into his trap…You, me, Darla; Dru…God knows who else…All of us running after him, to have him, to be with him, to subdue him…But Angelus keeps running a step ahead, to evade us. He belongs to nobody. He never will”
What an elaborate concept, Buffy thought. And she stared at him. He didn’t seem changed, but his eyes burned, making twin holes in the dark. “Is it…painful?”
”The soul?” Spike nodded “Very”. He smiled again, sadly, understanding what she didn’t dare to ask. “It hurts him even more, pet…does that give you any sadistic satisfaction?”
Buffy didn’t answer and after some minutes of silence the vampire stood up. “Let’s go, I’ll take you home. This is not a night for patrolling”
She followed him without resisting. She was tired. Not so much dead tired as tired like the dead.
“Are you …leaving?” She asked, at last, when they were in her yard.
“We don’t have any reason to stay” Spike admitted. He was as tired as she was. And so fully alive too…
“Tell him…tell him I’ll miss him..:” Buffy avoided his crystal clear eyes, looking down at her shoes. “Tell him I’ll never stop loving him…”
Strange. Just a few days back those sentences would have hurt him, but now…Spike just saw in front of him a pale creature with a broken heart, for whom he couldn’t do anything.
“Right”
She breathed in, finding herself moved by him, by his quiet acceptance of what had passed between them. “I’ll miss you too…Spike…”
The vampire raised her chin with a finger and lifted her hand to his lips, pressing on it one of his delicate, sweet, gentlemanly kisses. “I know it” Another smile, a true one this time. “Take care of yourself, Slayer”
Buffy watched him vanishing into the darkness, inexorably, as her innocence had, her dreams, her delusions…swept away by a black duster and a dark eyed angel….
“Buffy?”
Her mother’s voice scared her. Joyce was in the yard, a few meters from her. Oh…And how long had she been there? ”Buffy? That was Mr. Shelby, wasn’t it?”
Joyce frowned. “Why did he call you Slayer?”
Buffy gulped.
Uh-oh.

20. Destiny.

Spike returned to the Crawford Street mansion, still bewildered after all that had happened in the last few hours, the soul burning inside of him, but somewhat calmer. Meeting Buffy again had given him a sort of…peace, a singular sedative effect on his senses.
Angelus’ choice could not have astonished him less. He was the only one, in the whole damn world, who understood what it was like to wake with senses tuned to human pain after centuries of natural evilness. He was the only one who could know that this was not the time for final decisions, like devoting himself to a bedazzled teenager with the maturity of a cherry tart.
Spike smiled to himself: she was immature, but lethal. He would never forget her, and he bet that nor would Angelus.
For William the Bloody it was hard enough at the moment not to run into the sun, to cease that torment: it was not the time to ask himself complicated questions such as what destiny awaited him.
He really had believed it was Dru. To love her, to be loved by her…a hundred and twenty years, and it hadn’t been forever. Lasting, yes, faithful, usually, but not forever. He didn’t know in which category his relationship with Buffy belonged… and he wasn’t delusional about it anymore. That had been love, although he could have killed her with his hands and fangs for the deep, bloody revolution she had brought to his and his family’s existence. But that love couldn’t last forever, either.
Buffy probably still had ahead of her a life span of five, six years at best. In the past, he might have considered other options, such as siring her, for example…to make her his childe, or Angelus’ …or both. Spike played with that thought: the night she had welcomed both of them into her bed, and she had offered them her blood, it would have been so easy to slide from the erotic play to a mutual destiny, something to bind them insolubly, all three of them, forever.
Even then, they hadn’t felt like extinguishing her. Now even more so. Just the thought of siring a human being, and especially Buffy, made his stomach churn.
And now…now that this new, burning, bright soul flooded all that had been his essence until then, what could be his destiny? And Angelus’?
It wasn’t going to be easy. It wouldn’t be banal. He was empty inside, when the pain subsided a little, and he had as yet nothing to fill him. Blood wasn’t enough anymore. Old certainties, old convictions, were gone…and new ones still had to form themselves. A spark of self preservation kept the two vampires up and…barely functioning, like automata, directionless. And this was, at least for Spike, even more devastating than the guilt.
He was born to will¸ and yet he had no desire to be anything.
Get out of here, for starters. Yeah, maybe that was enough will for the moment.
He entered the mansion from the rear. He didn’t ask himself about Angelus: he knew at a very basic level he wasn’t hunting anymore.
Nevertheless, he hadn’t expected to see him there either, standing in the hall. He wasn’t alone. A small, slim guy with a weird hat stood beside him, looking like a “Starsky & Hutch” vintage extra.
“Angelus and Spike, Los Angeles Police Department, at your service, Madame” Spike laughed, silently. Damn it!
“Since when aren’t you feeding, uh?” the bloke asked Angelus, who stared at him with a strange emotion…looking dangerously like reverence. Spike noticed, not for the first time, how the soul had changed his cruel grandsire. His face, so handsome and full of character, had now a deep sweetness…something he had never seen before. Fuck, something that had never been there. He felt he loved him…more than ever…and his loneliness and nostalgia for past times lessened slightly.
“And you?” the guy asked, turning around to face Spike. “Gaunt as a …well, a spike. But they told me you’ve never been fleshy. Are you feeding, uh? I bet you aren’t. Since when have you both stopped sinking your fangs into something plump?”
Spike lifted an eyebrow. The soul hadn’t taken away from him the itch to fight, and that stroppy bloke…but then his stare met Angelus’. He hadn’t fed, either. Oh, balls…were they going to starve to death?
“You’re idiots” the guy commented. “Butchers throw away blood by the bucketful. It’s just a matter of organization”
“Mate, shove that hat of yours up your …”
”William” Angelus stopped him. “This is Whistler.”
“Manager wannabe for two demons recently provided with souls?”
“Uh – uh, very funny, pal” the guy didn’t laugh. “Big, heavy things are happening on this side of the universe. All wrong. You fucked the Slayer…and your brain. And their plans went down the pan”
“Their?” Spike investigated.
”The Powers That Be”
”The powers that be…what?” Angelus asked. “This part of your resumé, frankly, isn’t clear to me, either”
Whistler sighed and walked over to the room that had originally been a kitchen. He opened a bottle of whiskey and swallowed down a big gulp.
”I really can’t get what they saw in you both…but, alas, they changed their minds, and they wanted you. And they took you. The Powers That Be are…the big guys, indeed. Of all the universe. Known and unknown dimensions included”
”Wanted us for…what?”
”But that’s obvious! For fighting the good fight!”
“Ah, obviously” Spike laughed. “And who told you I want to fight the good fight? Mate, I’m nobody’s servant. If I want to be evil, I will be. Even with a soul: a soul didn’t prevent Hitler from doing what he did”
“I just knew he would be the stubborn one” the guy muttered. “Now, if you’ll only open those big ears of yours, you’ll understand I don’t have anything to do with this. I’m here just to point you in the right direction…and to add up the score in the fight between evil and good”
Whistler stared at them.
“Come what may, want it or not, you have both changed lane. This time, evil loses, good wins”
Whistler didn’t vanish. Not with a woosh, at least.
Simply, he wasn’t there anymore.
Angelus and Spike exchanged glances.
This problem was a bit too complicated and disturbing to be digested all at once. And the sun had long since set. It was time to put some distance between them and Sunnyhell.


Angelus watched the night flowing past the deSoto’s window. Desert, desert, houses, gas station, desert, a road house, desert. Spike drove at full speed, tight lipped. Neither of them itched for conversation.
“Butcher’s blood, uh?” Angelus said, suddenly. His companion nodded.
The ancient demon with an angel face…Angelus looked at his hands. He really saw blood on them, centuries of massacres…a new, male lady Macbeth. Unforgettable. And notwithstanding this…
Hope.
How could you have hope when you had been the cause of more evil than you could even imagine?
But in the farthest, tiniest, most shadowed part of himself Angelus felt hope. A small flickering light. A light Whistler’s words had given new strength.
If the Powers That Be really had other plans for them, maybe, all of this hadn’t really been useless.
Maybe, there still was the slight possibility to…
“Atone” he murmured, aloud.
”Sorry, mate, that’s not my style” Spike whispered, speeding up. Outside, the night sky was turning livid, dawn was approaching. In a few minutes, daylight would come.
That hadn’t changed. They were both still vampires…totally so. And they needed blood (human? Animal?) and a shelter from the sun. They had the broad means of un–living, thanks to Angelus’ cunning business initiative. Angelus had several accounts in foreign, fancy-named and welcoming banks, and other accounts in the names of his childes. Spike would have died of sheer starvation before entering a bank and filling in a form to get some cash, but Angelus felt at ease. In case of absolute necessity, Spike would not want for anything.
“I bet you regret not hiring the usual limo” Spike commented.
“Not at all” Angelus muttered. “There’s a motel. Let’s get a room”
Spike parked the deSoto in the dusty lot and the two vampires walked quietly towards Reception.
A woman came to take their documents: she was tired-looking, forty-ish, slightly obese. A good meal for two.
With shaking hands, Angelus fished out of his wallet his Platinum Visa card. Spike rolled his eyes: he abhorred those signs of human wealth Angelus had always been so fond of. But if they helped to keep his eyes from wandering to the landlady’s neck….all the better.
“Man, with that you can buy yourself the whole place” she said, amused.
“We just need a room. On the north side of the building”
She nodded, her heels ticking across the concrete floor, and handed him a key. The usual couple of queers, probably. Those black leather trousers, the inconsiderate attitude of the blonde one, they were most probably on the sado–maso circuit. What a load of shit…
The two vampires went quickly up the stairs. To sleep, to dream…maybe to die…the Bard already knew all about people like them. They just wanted to close their eyes and to forget. The spark, which never stopped burning.
On their staircase there was a room with a “Private” sign on it. The door opened, and a seeming teenage girl came out, heavily made up. She had a client.
“Come in, Brad” she said, her voice dripping with her last shot. Or maybe it was tequila that ran heavily through her veins.
The guy, a dirty blonde with a faux good attitude about him, smiled with his rotten, predator’s teeth...and entered the small private apartment.
She lived there, she was the landlady’s adopted daughter.
Spike and Angelus stared at each other.
The man went into game face, closing the door behind him with a bang.


“Oh, fuck!” Angelus muttered. To share her with the other vampire? To warn her? To save her? And how, since she hadn’t invited him into what was effectively a private home inside the motel?
While he was still musing, Spike was gone.
He was already in the apartment, and he had thrown the Brad-wannabe against a wall. Angelus followed him, broke the leg off a chair and threw it to Spike.
William the Bloody ended the task. His first rescue. Dust in his face. He rolled his eyes and then looked at his hands: they were shaking.
The girl passed her hands over her tired face, already wrinkled.
“Who the hell are you? What did you do to my client?”
Angelus, still shocked, took some cash and threw it on the table.
He went out with Spike, and their eyes met.
“I…I don’t know what got into me” Spike murmured, as bedazzled as his companion was. “I had to do it. I knew I couldn’t let him kill her”
”Indeed, the most disquieting detail is still escaping you” Angelus replied, when they were out of earshot. “She didn’t invite us in”
Spike leaned over to his grandsire.
“We are not alone in this…Spike”
“I know” he replied. “But I swear I’ll do it my way”
“I get that” Angelus nodded. And he knew also this was what separated them…and linked them just as deeply. Their diversity, their affection…all in all.
After a long day of perfect sleep, lying together like two worlds apart and yet close, separated in the same bed by a universe of untold tales about themselves, at the fall of darkness Spike and Angelus took the car and left.
Each of them towards his own destiny.


The princess woke up in her white girly bed. In her dreams, darkness had never been so vivid, seductive…dangerous. But, on waking, all was black inside her. The light had gone. And what she had learned would painfully last not for one, but for thousands of lifetimes. Oh, the loneliness…
All in all, despite her broken heart, the princess still lived.
And so did her two Princes to the noir.
Here endeth the lesson.

THE END.