“Tell me you’re my girl?”
Movement stilled as she took in the high those words gave her. The rush you got from knowing you were so important to someone that they were terrified of losing you. He wanted her, was afraid enough of her rejecting him to be nervous about the reality of their relationship. If Buffy was reading Spike right, he sounded so dejected about the possibility of her answer being in the affirmative, that he had hung his head against her breast in easy acceptance. Despite that confusion, however, anticipation was a curled fist against the curve of her belly.
Her lips parted to joyfully proclaim the right of him, to forever bind him to her, when a sharp, shocking slow clap breached the lustful romantic haze enveloping her heart. Spike’s head shot up from her breast with a start, he turned and allowed narrowed eyes to locate the intruder.
Buffy gasped on seeing Angel, her hands quickly going to retie the knot at her waist and shutting off the view.
“Angel, what are you doing here?” She held apology in her voice in a way that questioned her view on events, that she wasn’t comfortable with the private goings on that had been enacted behind closed doors and curtains. The brunette vampire had breached her boundaries and instead of righteous fury, she acted like a girlfriend caught being caressed by another man.
It didn’t go far in changing Spike’s view of his position in her life.
The grating clap had continued until she had spoken, and on hearing the quiet searching tones compelled from her throat, his lips took on the magnitude of a sneer, his eyes sharpened from recent death and pain. They glittered with pleasure, malice circling in a swirl of black hidden behind the depth of his expression.
But Spike saw it, and for the first time wondered what—or who—this incarnation of his grandsire would destroy. He had changed the playing field, and for the first time in his adventure Spike felt nervous about his lack of knowledge of where this situation could end up.
“Get out,” he commanded, voice held smartly in check so as not to reveal the bitter rage that was boiling just below his earlier plea. She hadn’t answered him; hadn’t beat him to the curb and rearranged the lines of his face either. But still the ambiguity of an entreaty gone without response took up most of his attention. Despite the presence of dark evil draped around her window frame.
“Now, William, don’t be rude to your family.” The cold smile of a killer flashed at him briefly before turning once again to the blonde whose bedroom he breached. “Ah, my little Buffy. And here I am thinking you’re my girl.”
The touch of hurt, the kicked puppy look so well utilised by soul and demon alike did it. Fooled her into acting without care to her safety or belief in the truths of Angelus. Before Spike could do anything to prevent it, she had run across the room and enveloped the darker vamp in a commiserating hug.
“I’m so sorry, Angel. I didn’t want to hurt you, but we are broken up.”
She’d pulled a little away, her neck still in easy reach of Angelus’s descending fangs, and Spike finally found the will to move his feet. At the same time, Angelus spoke.
“Oh Buff,” he drawled as his hand stroked tenderly down her warm cheek. “That’s why it won’t hurt me when I do this.” And he backhanded the same cheek, sending her spinning into her cupboard hard. With a thump she hit resistance to her flight and crumpled to a pile of terry-towelling on the floor.
The room was silent, waiting to see if she would rise and what would be her condition. It really only counted off into seconds when she lifted her head, her gaze blurred a little from a combination of shock and dizziness, but the steely glint of fight was not yet there, causing Spike to curse from within. The hurt wasn’t quite devastating, but he should have known that—no matter what he had saved her from—Buffy would always find a sliver of heart for the clod in front of them that would dictate her movements away from quick decisive conclusions.
“Angel?” she delayed, her voice cracking even now the revelation was old.
“Not bloody Angel, you daft bint. I bleeding well told you the poof had left the building.” Spike’s tone rivalled his grandsire’s in the hauntingly cold derision that formed his words, irritation at both the interruption and the dogged belief of Buffy’s to not believe the truth about one she had supposedly loved. Loved still, from where Spike was standing.
“Not Angel,” he confirmed with an amused lilt, the brooding inflection completely absent from his tone. He spoke now with eager delight, with knowledge and freedom that had been repressed for over a hundred years. If Spike had been less than a vampire, he’d have shivered.
“So, William! You still trying to get someone to be your girl?”
The barb hit its mark hard, leaving Spike drained first of fight then of hope, succumbing finally to the cloud of futility he had suspected he would always have to carry.
“Hey,” shouted Buffy, but she remained ignored, the two vampires trying to establish rank against each other while standing in the middle of a girly bedroom—complete with frills.
“It’ll never happen, boy.” Angelus, as always, jabbed where he knew it would hurt most. “You’ll always be second best. Get there last. Lose the girl. You’re a loser, Will. But thanks for handing Dru over. She’s a very smart girl for getting Daddy back.”
His laugh inspired cold shivers down her spine and was the final incentive Buffy needed in order to put her stubborn schoolgirl memory of Angel aside and accept his evil alter ego was possibly everything Spike had warned her about.
Spike.
He stood with his head bowed, defeat hunching his shoulders in a way that a century of promising kisses and vows of love would be working uphill to shift. Buffy’s eyes were drawn to the dejected posture of the vamp she loved, the sense of devotion deepening in her heart every stolen moment she had with him. To see him apparently beaten, resigned to an existence without her reassurance tore at her like nothing else. More than almost losing her Watcher to death. Much more than losing her first crush to a soulless demon.
The security of his heart was all that mattered to her now. Fighting was for another day.
Buffy had already gained her feet, had searched out a stake from her dresser that had fallen unnoticed to the floor when she had taken a headlong dive into the structure. Her hand clenched around the comfort of the deadly stick of wood as she took one small step to the entity suspended in her window.
“Did you come here for a reason, Angelus?”
Both sets of vampire eyes focused on her change, the new acceptance of his rightful personality. Within moments she had found a hard resolve that banished the weak schoolgirl and left evil nothing to recognise but the promise of the Slayer.
“Of course, darling. I came to play. Imagine my surprise to not only find you allowing my worthless childe to feel you up, but that you’ve been warned already of my return. Ruined all my fun.”
Buffy could feel the skin over her lips tighten at his pout, the urge to do damage surging through her veins like an express train crashing through fire. The livid snarl she felt more than heard from directly behind her confused her senses for only a moment, her inner Slayer being able to distinguish almost instantaneously the one she needed to protect and claim.
“Get out of here. You’ve no business with her, and I wouldn’t let you hurt her even if you had the right. No marks; you didn’t take her in any way. Guess you’re shit out of luck there, Ponce!”
Buffy could feel the tense coiling of muscles in the predator behind her, her back to a monster that could never do her harm, and she felt safer than she ever had with him by her side. He wanted to strike at the threat, push it to a crashing fall out of the window and from the roof.
Deep down she wanted to let him, but the niggling thought that this wasn’t time for a fight kept hitting at her till she took note and reeled in her impulse to violence. But the enemy was in her room and the biggest goal right now was to get him right the hell out. Having him curled around her window frame, smirking and making her skin crawl with every leery look and slur aimed toward Spike, was pretty decent motivation to remove him. As he threw even more not quite so subtle barbs at Spike, her dander was finally up to full throttle and she let the anger spill forth.
“You know what?” Buffy almost shouted, gaining the attention of both sets of demon eyes. Angelus looked confused by the unscheduled derailment, but had not time to think of the point because Buffy was determined to make sure everyone was safe. At this moment, it meant saving herself and Spike. “You interrupted one of those really important moments, and in the process you took ten minutes of my life that I won’t ever get back.”
His cocked eyebrow and amused smirk had her inner eye flash with fire-engine red, her fury pumping the power through her body like no other emotion was capable.
“But the thing that really bugs me?” The pause had him leaning forward slightly, waiting on the wisp of a girl with the power to dust him to smithereens. “You have really stupid hair.”
At his indignant gasp, Buffy raised her foot and planted it squarely in Angelus’s chest, the force of the kick sending him whizzing through the open air until he was pulled up short by the neighbour’s tree. Buffy’s euphoric smile—inspired by the resounding smack of his head against the bark and the handful of leaves that lodged in his perfectly styled hair—slipped into a disappointed pout that he didn’t hit any protruding branches and put them simply out of their misery. She could hear Angelus’s grunt from across the street and as he turned to glare at her and intimidate her with the flash of his fangs, she pointedly looked at the lightening sky and tapped with purpose at her bare wrist, indicating the ticking of time. With another growl—resigned to having to return to the torment another day—he left in a swish of coat and faded quickly into the disappearing night.
After one last look, Buffy swivelled on her heel to face Spike, feeling no sense of repulsion as he showed her the reality of his face. She did the one and only thing she would have been able to. She strutted toward him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips to within a hairsbreadth from her own.
“I’m yours, Spike. Soon, I will be completely yours. But for now? Definitely your girl.”
And she kissed him, soft lips brushing against surprisingly soft demon ones, not even an inkling of fear.
Absolutely was she his girl. One swift kick in the shin wrought the required ouch for it to end. “And stop with the stupid questions,” she pouted, and squealed when he latched on and made that lip his own.
Spike was in Buffy’s room, with permission this time around, with her hands seeking out his goodly secrets. All he could do was smile at something that seemed the key to his change in circumstance. It was all changed forever now, irrevocably altered and this time—for the first time ever—it was in his favour.
Buffy was his girl.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Willow was curled up within the bed coverings, a stake held tightly in her fist. She had shot to alert when a scratching on the outside of her window made her teeth vibrate against her jaw. Only once had she let her eyes fall upon the inky darkness greeting the other side of the glass, and she gasped in elevated fear as the pale leering smile of Angel peered in at her. He waved with his fingers, obviously looked over her shaking form as she trembled against the sheets, and then left.
His disappearance didn’t sooth her nerves, though it gave her enough presence of mind to climb from the bed and gain her shoes—in case she would have to run for her life. With her back against the door, she soon became aware of sound across the hall. A loud bang and the clattering of smaller objects to the floor queued her in to the possibility that the newly soulless vamp hadn’t gotten his kicks from frightening her and then just moved on.
The hairs on the back of her neck fought to leave her skin as she heard the deep voice in the other room while it taunted and decimated her friends. It wasn’t the first time Willow had thought of Spike as her friend, but it was a new feeling to find faith in his efforts of protection. In his deep desire to keep them all safe.
She could almost feel his pain across another room and hall, knowing that the vampire had some serious issues in regards to his confidence and choices in love. Resigned to not sleeping for the rest of the night—not that much blackness still clung to the air—Willow sank to the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, and kept one ear out for the signs that would indicate the Slayer hadn’t been diligent.
Willow was quickly finding her breathing to be on a rapid incline to hyperventilation, little bubbling screams pushing at her throat and backed by her very healthy lungs. Each nasty taunt by the vampire they had all trusted for so long brought miserable tears to her eyes. The shaking wouldn’t stop, and her rump was getting both cold and sore with her cowering on the floor.
Finally she heard Buffy fight back with some very obscure insults of her own, and the thud of what could only be a powerful blow to someone. The fact that no impact rocked the house implied that someone had just been fiercely and abruptly ejected from the building. Low murmuring of a soft voice clued her in to Angel gone byeage, and she hesitantly pushed her way to her feet.
When the silence seemed more comfortable rather than terrifying, Willow flung open her door and dived headlong across the hall. Turning the knob to Buffy’s door seemed no contest as she found herself within the room, almost falling at the super-couples feet in the sweetest of relief.
“Oh Buffy,” she breathed through her fear derived tears. “He just stared at me…through the window…” she sobbed, her face buried in the shoulder of her friend.
Buffy and Spike shared a look above the redhead, one meant to be answering questions and offering their own form of comfort. However, Spike saw little but history repeating, and possibly forcing those he cared about to brook an even more destructive path.
It was all akin to a typical Spike plan. Try as he might, they never bloody worked. Never made it to the happy conclusion he was going for. Sure, he was good at deviating from the path if the outline was all wonky—if he managed to see it in time—but the potential for disaster that he always optimistically avoided, seemed always to catch him by the chin.
But this time, it was different. His other plans had been motivated by evil. Had been designed to take down the Slayer and reward himself with glorious benefits. Looking back now, he could see his heart had never really been in it; had in fact been more of a try to be as evil and deserving for his dark princess as he could. This time, he needed things to be changed. Needed to prevent Buffy from the emotional pain that blocked off her heart. Needed to prevent the hurt that would taint this group of people—his family—from accepting him.
This time, he couldn’t fail.
And yet, it seemed like he was. Keeping Buffy away from his poofy sire hadn’t been enough. He’d covered many bases—and lets not forget he was thinking on the fly, thank you muchly—but the odds were stacked against him when he had no warning of his sudden trip back through time. The reality of a more open Buffy, a new shot at having her love him…was it any wonder he had forgotten to watch himself around Dru?
And he was paying for it now. The bone deep fear he held that, no matter what he did, or who he stopped, something big was going to go down now Angelus was on the loose, and Spike was going to lose it all yet again. After being so close. After holding it all in his hands and seeing the spark of love for him in her eyes. Angelus was going to take it all away from him, because that was inevitably what Angelus was all about.
The spread of heat from Buffy’s words, her lips sharing a declaration he thought impossible to ever hear or experience, was too short lived as Red came barrelling through the door. Her obviously distraught state might have taken away his opportunity to bask in Buffy’s gift, but it also put him on alert and reminded him how serious life for them all now was.
“Right, tomorrow the teacher needs to put a disinvite on the house. Don’t want anymore bloody surprises like that one. Has Peaches been in your place before, Red? If so, disinvite there, too. Bloody hell, disinvites all round I say. Get the bugger right out of all our hair.”
The thought of hair brought a smile to his lips, distracting him momentarily from the seriousness of the night.
“Bloody brilliant comeback there, pet. Ponce never could get that his hair would stand up just as well without half the gel he uses.”
Willow raised a hesitant hand. “A-a-actually, I think he uses mouse.”
Buffy and Spike both frowned at her but she shrugged them off. “He asked me to buy some for him once.”
Girly giggles greeted Spike’s irritated eye roll. “So the big brooding git uses mouse. Who bloody cares?” In the next second he could have cursed himself as the haunted look chased away the playfulness in her eyes, and the redhead collapsed again.
He sighed, irritated at his brevity, but knowing that the mood, once lost in these circumstances, could not be adequately retrieved. No matter how hard he might want it to.
“You lot get some shuteye. Keep the door open, jus’ incase. I’ll kip downstairs after it gets fully light and we know he can’t get back in. Shouldn’t be long now.”
He gave Buffy a quick kiss on the cheek, whispering his ‘thank you’ in her ear, turned and made his way out of the room. A hand on his stopped him and he was directed to lie beside her on the bed, no argument rising in his head as to why it would be better to leave her.
In silence, the two girls lay on the bed, arms entwined for comfort’s sake, and drifted toward a restless sleep, Spike falling fast behind them.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Giles could do nothing but watch as Jenny went about the business of keeping a formally welcome vampire from being an unwanted guest and killing them in their sleep. The night had already been long, and with his added weakness from being almost drained, he felt quite unable to even stay sitting up against his pillows while she finished the incantation that would keep Angelus on the outside.
“It’s just bloody marvelous what magic can achieve,” he beat out tiredly, almost succumbing to the now complete lack of strength in his body. He perked up a little at her indulgent smile, but quickly screwed up his nose when she swapped her handful of mini crosses for a glass of juice and the first of many iron tablets. He took the offering without word, however, not wanting to insult her when she made the most beautiful nurse he had ever seen.
The bitter mouthful of juice revived him somewhat and he was able to take small notice of the wrinkle of fear around her eyes and mouth, and couldn’t help but shudder around his suspected knowledge from Spike. The words were not spoken, but the implications of devastation to his world were intense.
“It is imperative that we neutralise this threat of Angelus. We cannot have him and his consort loose on the streets of Sunnydale. Together they are too dangerous for even Buffy to take on, though the presence of Spike is a welcome support…” He stopped abruptly as she placed a finger over his lips and rewarded him with a tentative smile.
“I brought all my files so that I can work on the curse. Given just a little bit of time, I’m sure I can translate it and make him Angel again…” She stopped at Giles’s snort of impatience.
“I am not so certain that it is worth your effort.”
“He is not…”
Jenny jumped to her feet as the voice at the now open door flooded her with dormant feelings of responsibility and loyalty. Giles was still too weak to do more than struggle to a seated position, his brows crossed as he sorted out the effect of the rude intrusion and entry to his home and the strange subservient position of Jenny.
“Who are you? And how dare you break into my home.” His voice offered flinty reminders to the presence of his alter ego, and he inwardly cursed his lack of blood that kept him to the fringes of what could be a dangerous fight for their lives.
Until he saw Jenny drift forward and offer a warm but apologetic hug to the man that had not come more than a step into the flat.
“The Elder woman has felt it. The signs were too sudden, but she has felt the curse be lifted. How could you let this happen?”
Jenny backed up a step. “This could not have been predicted. I don’t even know how it happened. But I can get the soul back, place it inside him again so that he will continue to burn. I just need some time…”
“Time? Time for someone else’s cherished daughter to fall at his feet?”
Her head fell, defeat stamped into every part of her that could establish feeling. Face drawn, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast…she was the picture of failure.
Until one memory sparked her to fight, to offer her beliefs and struggle for their implementation once again.
“I promise you. Angel still suffers. And he makes amends for his
evil. He even saved my life. The right thing to do is to return his soul.” Her voice was strong, determined in her ability to both renew her vow to her clan, and make Angel what he was.
“So you just forget that he destroyed the most beloved daughter
of your tribe?! That he killed every man, woman and child that touched
her life?! Vengeance demands that his pain be eternal as ours is! How could you let him experience a moment’s happiness? He must be stopped.”
“Then returning the curse would appear to suit us all, then, doesn’t it! You get your continued bloody vengeance and we get a warrior for good. Now, on your bike.” Giles had stumbled to his feet, hand gone white from the grip on the sofa back he held to keep himself upright.
His words had no impact and he watched as Jenny seemed lost in a world he had no knowledge of but which consisted of deep loyalty to a group that had condemned the world to the eventual release of a monster. They may have prettied him up with a shiny soul, but providing a get out of jail card pressed beyond the boundaries of responsible tactics.
“I'm sorry. I thought...” Jenny shook her head slowly, gently as the gravity of her place drifted to encompass her.
“You thought what?! You thought you are Jenny Calendar now?! You
are still Janna, of the Kalderash people! A Gypsy.”
“I know... Uncle. I know.”
“I think you do not know. You’re watching failed. You were unable to prevent the monster’s return though it was your job. Now I find you here, alone with a man.”
“But he is ill; he was attacked…”
“Enough.” The raised hand before her halted her justifications and her head bowed once again, offering her subservience in the face of clan disappointment. “You are finished here, Janna,” he offered, his voice shades warmer than before, favour making a showing where before he was fierce. “You must gather your things and return with me at once.”
Her dark eyes flashed at him, projecting her dislike of the order as she battled with her inherent upbringing to obey. The deep clearing of his throat finally drew attention and Giles smiled warmly at her before turning a frosty glare at her uncle.
“Ms. Calendar will not be going anywhere.” His voice was hard and belied any of the weakness suffered by his body. “She is our only hope of reinstating the cursed soul. I believe it is her desire to both return Angel to us as well as help fight Angelus—to prevent some of the bloodshed that will be inevitable should she leave as you suggest. We would be left without a suitable weapon to counteract the situation. It is not any of our fault that Angelus has returned. This could not have been predicted, as your elder woman has already pointed out to you.”
The fury that bloomed on the darker faced man could not be missed as he turned sharply to his niece.
“Is this what you want, Janna?”
Giles could see the shake of her hand as she raised it to brush away invisible strands of hair from her face.
“I think it is what I must do, Uncle. I owe it to our tribe to stop him hurting more, for taking away loved ones from other families.” Her voice held a heavy plea for permission, for understanding that Giles could already see would remain absent from the one she called family.
“You owe these others nothing. The evil one is no longer your concern. Remove yourself from this place and we shall return home at once.”
The shake intensified as she prepared to do battle for her beliefs, allowing her spine to straighten and raising her eyes to relay the seriousness of her words.
“I cannot leave, Uncle. I will stay and translate the curse.”
“Then I cast you out,” was his furious rejoinder, at once rendering her null and void of blood. “See how the muló will like your taste now. It will be bitter with the taste of the unclean.”
“Oh, now that’s a bit harsh…”
“Rupert, please, no,” whispered Jenny through a throat choking on her own tears.
“I accept marimé, but will continue to undertake my duty.” Her voice shuddered around the words as strands of hair became caught in her rapidly moistened cheeks, face pale yet accepting of the punishment.
“You are not one of us; you have no duty to perform. Align yourself with these others you are so fond of and hope the beast does not hunger for your blood too badly. Farewell…Jenny Calendar.”
He was gone as suddenly as he appeared, and as Giles shook his head in bewilderment over the events that had barely just taken place, he used his last remaining burst of energy to catch his dark angel of mercy as she crumbled with grief to the floor.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Angelus hobbled back to his apartment just in time to turn his back to the subtle kiss of the morning. Dru waited for him, hanging limply from chains he had hastily erected high above his bed. Her body bled onto the innocent sheets and he felt wonderful about the prospect of revelling in someone’s agony before he claimed rest.
Bruised eyelids parted as he came closer to her figure, completely naked and marked with red and black and purple. He’d done quite a job on his dark childe, reclaiming every part of her body that she had given over to their progeny in his absence.
The way she had tricked him, admittedly to return her favoured Daddy to her, had reeked of manipulation and initiative that he hadn’t wanted bred into his women. William had done that to her, had let her think she was able to take command and call certain shots. He was grateful to her—make no mistake about it—but to let her go unpunished just wasn’t in Angelus’s nature.
His nature was of the most wicked, the most evil, and it was a nature that had captured his childe from the second of her rising. He had no Darla to enjoy anymore, no William to take out his ready frustrations on—yet! For now, his most beautiful Dru was his plaything, and playing with her was very nice and satisfying beyond his wildest dreams. Admittedly, he’d been held by a leash for so long that tripping an old lady struggling across the street would do it for him, but he had several steps above that in a tethered Dru to his stone wall, dangling above his virgin sheets.
Unable to stand the delicious promise of her canvas any longer, he stripped bare and located his toys lying unencumbered on the bed, right beside Dru’s thigh.
“Daddy, I’ve been so good,” she murmured through broken lips, and his smile blossomed into one that was thoroughly pleased with his childe’s behaviour.
“That you have, Dru. Now we’ll make sure you’re even better. Shall I?” he asked while holding up a wicked looking knife, the blade sharpened enough to slice hairs, carve intricate messages in cheese.
He swirled the tip around her nipple, delighting in her whimper as blood dripped over the swell of her breast. He quickly captured the flow with his tongue, using his now protruding fangs to add new slices along with the knife. His other hand remained annoyingly free, so as to not render himself bored, he wrapped a fist around his cock and squeezed, moaning around the suction he had on her nipple.
“You’ve been so bad, Dru. Being good now doesn’t take away the fact that you made me think I was fucking the Slayer.”
Her tortured cry was music to his ears as he dribbled holy water down her abdomen. It flowed to her pussy, burning at the hairs and causing a steam to rise and envelop him in the stench of burning flesh. Quickly donning on a thin silicone glove, he fiercely shoved his fingers into her hole, bypassing his own pain by protecting himself against the liquid of purity.
He jerked his fingers and twisted while biting her breast, leaving torn fang impressions in her milky white skin.
“Not good enough, babe. Daddy wants his precious to scream.”
He grabbed the whip and swung with a passion that cut deep grooves, rejoicing in the memory of damage and hate, and evil. He laughed as she opened her mouth to scream, happiness flooding him and imbuing him with a power he hadn’t ever known as he shoved his cock deep down her throat. Her choking meant nothing as he pumped his length against her tongue, holding a fistful of hair as he rocked her back and forth.
Her silent screams caused a pulse against the thick cord of his cock. It was excruciating; it was bliss. As he blew with violence down her throat, he grinned with pure malice and collapsed spent back on the bed. He rested for several minutes, reminding himself how lucky he was that she determined to be bad this one time.
“Tell you what, baby. I’m gonna forgive this transgression, and let you go. You can spend the day showing Daddy how glad you are I’m back, and tonight we can find a new hideout. Little Scoobies should be too busy scrabbling for today, and I’m betting they’d rather try to replace my soul rather than dust me, so for now we should be safe.”
He climbed up Dru’s battered and abused body to release the catch on the chains. She flopped forward and he caught her before tossing her roughly to the sheets. He stretched as he lay down beside her, staring at the ceiling where the ring for the chains now stuck out, and waited for her to start moving over his body with her hands and tongue. His hands were crossed behind his head as delicious thoughts of killing those who had thought him caught flashed behind his eyes.
“Show me how good it is to be home.”
[Reviews - 381]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 7241 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
Again I am blown away with all of your support. I hope this chapter doesn't wipe out any fans of this fic, as we are now taking that turn into angst.