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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for taking so long to update, it's been a hectic week with studying and work. Thanks again to all those who have reviewed, and a big thanks once again for Andrea for beta'ing this chapter for me! :) Please review and let me know what you think!
Chapter 6



This was beyond the point of ridiculous. Two nights—two fucking nights—and still not even a sighting of his newest childe. Angelus paced the length of his room back and forth, questioning for the first time whether his decision to have his minions track Buffy down had been the smartest decision he could have made. Most of the minions had yet to return, either with his childe or with news of where she could be found.

Those who had returned brought little news, saying only that they were able to follow her scent for a while before it trailed off, leaving them with no indication of her whereabouts. Needless to say they had been dusted for their failure, tied up and left out to burn in the morning sun.

The problem was that his patience was wearing thin, almost to the point of being nonexistent. She was a prize, that one; a rarity that he and he alone had the pleasure of owning. The more she eluded him, the more he found himself wanting her—desiring her above all else.

Dru had become more and more irritating with her insane ramblings. Not even the amount of pleasure that he drew upon from her body could sate him. Every time he closed his eyes, Buffy would dance across his mind and all desire to pound into his insane childe would abate. Instead of using her as an object of his desire she had become merely a much needed, yet unsatisfying release.

Despite the obvious and unwanted presence of a soul in his newest childe, Angelus had never desired a creature more than he did her at this point. Not Dru and not Darla. Nothing he ever felt for them could compare to the want he had for his turned Slayer. Buffy held his ever waking thought; she had become his obsession as Dru had once been, and he planned to break her just as he had broken Drusilla. Just as soon as he had the little bitch back within his grasp.

A loud growl of frustration emanated from his chest, and he stalked over to the door of his room. Throwing it open roughly, he picked up his coat from the back of the chair in passing and swung it on over his shoulders as he made his way out of the mansion.


***


All of the lights were burning brightly at 1630 Revello Drive, yet Angeles couldn’t feel the presence of a single being within the house. Not one heart beat reached his ears and try as he might, he couldn’t feel the presence of his errant childe.

He was absolutely positive that she was inside the house.

Angelus found himself circling the residence slowly as he peered in the windows, looking for any sign of movement coming from within. It was too quiet for a deserted house, especially one which had its lights burning brightly from within. He smirked to himself as he made his way around to the back porch.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called out in a sing-song voice. Smirking, he walked up onto the back porch, making sure to stand out of the stream of light that was shining through the window of the back door.

It had to be a cloaking spell, he was certain she was within the walls of this house.

Angelus’ hand reached out, and he briefly contemplated opening the door and testing whether his invitation had been revoked. He knew that walking in there by himself, when she most likely had all her buddies with her, could only be inviting trouble when he didn’t know what he would find.

Yet, he needed some sort of confirmation. Lifting his head he sniffed the air for even the slightest trace of her scent.

Angelus stopped abruptly when the scent hit his senses. Not the scent he had being testing for, yet far more disturbing and telling all the same. Furrowing his brows he sniffed again.

A predatory growl resonated deep within his chest. Suspicion stole over his features. There was no mistaking it. Spike’s scent was all over Buffy’s back porch.


***


The Summers’ house was quiet the next morning when Giles awoke. He felt like crap, reminding him of his younger days—wilder days. His voice felt rough from the abuse wrought by his overindulgence of hard liquor; the pressure in his head seemed to be thumping in time with his heart beat and there was a general feeling of queasiness that alerted him to the fact that anything that was to be consumed that morning would be brought back up shortly thereafter. He groaned as he sat up, trying to focus his sleep-bleary eyes on his watch.

“Bloody hell” He moaned groggily before flopping down on the couch again, only wincing slightly at the discomfort it caused his head and lethargic limbs. Nine o’clock was far too early to get up after a night of drinking.

How stupid he had been. Never again would he touch a single drop of that vile liquid. Unless of course, the circumstances leading up to its consumption mirrored those of the night before. Giles groaned again and threw a heavy arm across his closed eyes.

He let his mind wandered absently over the events of the night before, making no further attempt to remove himself from the couch. He had truly never seen anything quite like the reaction his Slayer’s demon had to the blonde vampire. As he had stated many times the night before, it was remarkable.

Giles felt the beginnings of a spark of excitement slowly spring to life in his tired and intoxicated brain as he began to mull over the possible explanations for their mutual behaviour. For a split second he entertained the though of locking them in a room together so he could observe them as they were forced to interact together, before quickly dismissing such an idea.

Sitting himself up, he slowly pushed off the couch and lethargically made his way over to his books. The allure of something new and unknown to discover with the help of his dusty volumes was too strong to resist, despite his hangover.


***


Angelus’ eyes narrowed as he watched the sleeping form of Spike from the doorway to his room. Nothing seemed highly suspicious or off about the vampire before him. In fact he looked the same as he had when he last checked on him three days ago. Yet his senses hadn’t lied, they couldn’t. Spike’s scent had been all over Buffy’s back porch.

Slipping silently into the room, he moved the wheelchair away from the side of the bed until it was just out of the blonde vampire’s reach.

If he was still as crippled as he was before, Spike would be incapable of getting into the chair himself and would be forced to call for help despite his pride. Yet the chair was close enough to the bed that even with slight mobility it was possible for him to reach it. Close enough that in the event of a momentary slip of mind he would move himself effortlessly into the chair without thinking twice about his ‘crippled’ status.

Backing out of the room again, Angelus slipped of silently through the halls of the mansion, seizing a minion roughly as he went.

“You! I have a job for you. I want you to watch Spike over the next few days. Be discreet and don’t let him know you are watching. Any odd occurrences, anything strange at all you let me know. Got it?” The minion nodded hurriedly and let out a small sigh of relief when his master let him drop to the ground. “Good. Don’t let me down”

Without a second thought the minion scurried off down the hall to keep surveillance over the crippled vampire.





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