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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you for your lovely reads and reviews.
It's you readers that have kept this fic alive on this site.
I'm submitting this long 2 parter chapter tonight because it's like 80 degrees and 90 percent humidity in So. Cal and no one can sleep.

Thanks again,
luv, Spuf
Chapter 38: ‘Confrontations’


A/N: This is a really long chapter, in fact it’s in two parts and I’m rating it NC-17 for language and sexual violence. This is the chapter where Angel really gets ugly, however, I have toned it down from it’s original concept, just couldn’t make it ‘that ugly.’ Thanks for reading, luv, Spuf





They made love as much as they could, taking time to explore each other’s bodies over and over again. William and Buffy remapped each other’s bodies, every curve and muscle, every inch of flesh they could, with their hands and mouths. Finally, sated from sex and exhausted from their emotions, they fell asleep wrapped in each others arms.

After spending over thirty-six hours in that room together, making love, eating and just talking to each other, Buffy and William discovered more about each other and themselves then ever before. Will woke up first from their ‘nap’ he lay propped up on his left elbow, watching Buffy sleep on, wrapped up in her dream world.

Suddenly, without warning, she flinched in her sleep and cried out, “Angel, No!” causing Spike to cringe.

‘What the hell?’ he asked himself, giving in to the urge to wake her from her troubled rest, ‘great, she’s dreamin’ about that wanker!’

He knew that wasn’t fair on his part, Buffy was married to the fuck after all, and by all accounts, this was not a particularly nice dream for her.

“Buffy,” he whispered urgently, trying to wake her, “Buffy, wake up Princess, you’re havin’ a bad dream.”

Buffy’s eyes flew open and she bolted up in bed, her body trembling all over.

“Oh, Will,” she gasped, clinging to him in fear, “I had the most awful dream. Angel came after us, here, right this morning, Will. He shot you, killed you dead!”

She knew it was a nightmare, nothing more, but it had terrified her, it seemed so very real to her.

“He found out about us, Xander told him and then he came here and shot you, right in front of me.”

Grasping onto his body, still trembling like a leaf in the wind, she began to cry softly, “I couldn’t save you, Will,” she whispered harshly, I tried, but I was too late.”

William began to stroke her, almost cooing to her, telling her it was alright and that Angel had not found out about them.

“When he does, Buffy,” he murmered in her ear, soothingly, “it won’t matter anymore, we’ll be free of him once and for all.”

Buffy wanted to believe him, she loved him and he loved her, all of her feelings for Angel were gone, well, except the contempt she now held her husband in.

“How are we going to be free of him, Will?” she asked with wide serious eyes.

That was when Will told her all about his plan.

When it came time for Buffy to go home to her dreary prison of a house, it was harder then hard, it was near impossible for her to leave. For both Spike and her; he did not want her to go.

On Sunday afternoon, when it was impossible for her to stay any longer without alerting Angel, Buffy reluctantly showered again and got dressed slowly. Even in the shower, with him, Spike could feel her fear about going home, facing that moron she was married to.

‘God I hate that prick!’ he hissed silently, watching her gather her things up and repack the little overnight case. He just hated the fact that she was going home to ‘him’ the bane of his existence and now, hers. Spike knew in his heart, without even asking Buffy, that she avoided any physical contact with Angel, always, anyway she could accomplish it, and he was thankful for that. The thought of that bloody fuck touching his Buffy made him physically ill, as it had for years.

She had finished gathering and packing her few things, when she suddenly pushed the little bag aside and leapt back on the bed to rejoin him, “I love you!” she cried desperately, pulling him into her embrace.

“Oh, luv,” he moaned just as desperately, “I love you so much,” his arms were like a vice on her, encircling her tiny body, nearly squishing her.

“I’m going to hate going home, Will,” Buffy whispered even as he peppered little kisses on her face and lips. “I hate it there, at that damn tomb I claim to live in. Do it, Will, ruin Angel, bring him down and get him out of our lives. I don’t think I can stand to look at him any more.”

She began to cry softly, burying her head into his bare chest and soaking his warm flesh with her even warmer tears.

“I’ll take care of Angel, Princess,” Spike whispered back to her as he stroked her golden hair and warm, wet cheeks. “Don’t you worry, baby,” he added with a smirk, “Angel won’t be able to hurt us or anyone else, I promise.”

She nodded against his chest, snuggling down into him even closer then before, “make love to me?” she half-asked/ half-ordered him, gazing up into his eyes, lovingly.

“God, Buffy, you don’t even have to ask me that.” He quickly began to undress her.

Finally, when Buffy couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer, Will drove her to Willow and Tara’s apartment where she had left her car for the weekend. Will clasped her to him, kissing her passionately before letting her get into her car to drive home.

“I love you, Buffy,” he called softly as she sat in the driver’s seat, “love you too,” she responded meeting his gaze and smiling.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”

He nodded and stared at her wistfully, waiting until Buffy had pulled out of the apartment parking lot and gotten to the end of the block to leave.

“I hope to God that Angel isn’t home,” she thought to herself driving fairly fast towards her house, “I don’t think I can bear to see him right now.”

As if God had heard her, Buffy noticed that Angel’s car was missing from their driveway when she pulled into it.

“Thank you, God,” she mumbled, turning off the ignition and grabbing her overnight bag. Jenny and Maggie’s cars were also missing from the driveway, which was odd, they weren’t supposed to take this weekend off.

“Wonder where they are?” Buffy asked herself out loud, then shrugged and went inside her empty house.

It was summertime, so the light outside was more then enough to illuminate most of the big old house, but it was strange, it still seemed so ‘dark’ inside.

Buffy felt a shiver go up her spine as she entered through the back door and headed through the kitchen on her way upstairs to the bedroom. Suddenly, without warning, Angel’s deep voice boomed from the front room of the house, scaring the life out of Buffy.

“Hey, Buff,” Angel greeted her loudly, “welcome home.”

She dropped the overnight bag on the kitchen floor and reluctantly shuffled into the living room, confused as to how Angel was here when his car wasn’t. Angel was sitting on the living room couch, wearing only a pair of Levi jeans and drinking from a very large tumbler, ‘whiskey’ Buffy figured.

“Hey Angel,” she responded weakly, slowing her steps down to a crawl, “where’s the Mercedes?”

He didn’t even turn around to look at her, just shrugged his massive shoulders, took another gulp of his drink and said evenly, “the shop.”

‘Oh,’ she nodded silently, “it’s almost 5:30, Ang,” she noted, changing the subject, “have you eaten anything? Where’s Jenny and Maggie?”

“I gave them time off for good behavior,” Angel snorted with a chuckle, “and no, I haven’t eaten. I’ll make a sandwich for myself in a little while. I’d rather drink my meal anyway right now,” he explained, taking another sip of his drink.

Buffy felt the uneasy feeling that had started the minute she realized Angel was indeed home rise up from her stomach to her throat. She was finding it very hard to say anything or breathe evenly for that matter.

“What’s wrong, Angel?” she asked quietly, trying to ‘seem’ interested in what was obviously bothering him.

“I’m just tired, Buffy,” he responded in the same monotone, “I’m just tired and I guess a little worried, maybe.”

Now she was getting downright scared, Angel never worried about anything like this, no, he ranted and raved or threw something if he was really worried about business or money? Anything, but not like this.

“Worried?” she asked evenly, “about what?”

“Nothing that should concern you right now, babe,” he responded his voice barely above a whisper.

Buffy tried to change the subject again, make some kind of polite conversation, “my Mom’s doing real well, Angel,” she offered up, “she’s really happy with this Ted guy and…..”

Angel interrupted her, “that’s just peachy keen there Buff,” he snapped sarcastically. “As long as Mom’s doin’ great the world is just fucking fine, huh?”

Buffy’s attitude went from polite to angry in two seconds, “well she is my Mother, Angel. I think you’d be the slightest bit interested in what she’s doing or how she’s doing. God, Angel, do you ever even think of anyone but yourself?”

She turned, without letting him finish, and headed towards the kitchen to grab her bag and hurry upstairs, not noticing that he’d stood up and followed her.

“Buffy!” he shouted, grabbing her arm and spinning her around, “I’m more interested in the what hell you’re up to. So drop the self-righteous ‘I love my Mommy’ act, it doesn’t become you sweetheart.”

With Angel so close to her now, Buffy could really tell just how much he’d been drinking that day; it was a lot.

“Angel,” she began trying to calm her voice down even though she was beginning to be really frightened for some reason. “I don’t know what’s bothering you,” though she had a pretty good idea, “but I think we should just not talk to each other right now. Anymore, whenever we talk we seem to argue and I’m tired, I’ve got a headache….”

Angel rolled his huge chocolate brown eyes and smirked, “you’re always tired, babe and you’ve always got a God damned headache anymore. You know,” he continued in mock concern, “you really need to get to a Doctor about those, I’m starting to get worried.”

She didn’t look into those dark eyes of his, Buffy had caught the sarcasm in his tone and decided to pull away from him; get away from him.

Rubbing her arm where Angel had held it so tightly, Buffy shook her head slightly, “I’m going to go take a bath, you just eat your damn sandwich down here, by yourself. I’m not going to eat, I’m not hungry.”

She turned her back to him and began to walk away, but he grabbed her again, this time by the shoulders.

“You don’t walk away from me you little bitch!” he growled slamming her back against his chest and stomache and wrapping his huge arms around her like a vice. “You’re my fucking wife! I want to talk to you right now. And when I want to talk to you, we talk! You got that Buff?”

Buffy struggled against him to pull away, but Angel was just too damn strong for her, so she finally gave up and tried to relax in his embrace.

“Let’s just go sit on our nice, expensive, comfy couch and have a real heart to heart, babe,” he purred in her ear, “damn, you make a guy feel like he’s not loved anymore. And you love me don’t you babe? I mean, everybody loves me, right?”

Pulling her along with him to their couch, Angel pushed Buffy, not too gently onto it then sat down beside her, his huge hands holding her in place. Buffy’s inner voice began to speak to her:

“Tell him, Summers,” it ordered firmly, “tell him that not only do you no longer love him, you can’t stand the sight of him. It’s the perfect time to ask for a divorce, he’s drunk, yeah, stupid drunk! Tell him what a worthless, ruthless and cheating piece of shit you know he really is!”

Buffy opened her mouth to let the words come out, but when she looked him in his eyes, she lost her nerve. Angel was past angry at this point, he was going on enraged and she was more frightened then before.

“Yeah, that’s right, Ang,” she said evenly, not looking at him again, “everybody loves you.”

He shot her a smug smile, “that’s right,” he nodded his head, “I’m the most loved guy in Sunnydale, huh, sweetheart?”

She knew that trying to reason with Angel when he’d been drinking like this was useless, so she just nodded her head back at him and focused her stare on the coffee table in front of them.

“You’ve been real distant lately, babe,” he slurred as he scrutinized her, “real distant. I mean, even before you got that two-bit job of yours, you were pulling away from me, emotionally, physically.”

Angel chuckled softly and shook his head, “almost makes a guy think you’re not being up front with him. Maybe you’re fucking around on him or something, you know?”

Buffy didn’t say a word, just kept staring at the coffee table.

“But then again,” he continued, gulping his drink down and pouring more from the decanter on the coffee table, “I just know how faithful you are. After all, I paid someone to follow you around for weeks, checking up on you.”

He paused and stared at her, ‘he’s clocking me for my reaction,’ she told herself, ‘play it right, Summers.’

“You had me followed!” she cried with indignation, “checked up on!”

Angel shrugged and took another drink of his whiskey, “well, yeah. But of course you passed that test with flying colors, huh babe?”

“So you had me followed? Why Angel?” she asked, hoping her false sense of self-righteous indignation would convince her husband that she had no clue of any of this crap.

“Again,” he sighed with a light chuckle, “that I did, babe. And, happily for all of us, I found out you are truly the paragon of virtue that everyone always ‘thought’ you were. Which, is very lucky for you, wife of mine because if it had turned out any differently, I’d have broken your lovely sleek little neck. And you have such a beautiful, silky throat and neck, sweetheart, it’d be a shame to break it in two over some stupid dalliance on your part, wouldn’t it?”

Buffy sat stock still, trying to keep calm, trying to breathe evenly, she thought she was pulling it off and then Angel continued.

“Of course, I’d have gone after the stupid fuck that ever had the nerve to get involved with Angel Traver’s wife, put his filthy hands on you. In fact, I’d slice him into pieces, preferably in front of you, pre- neck breaking of course. I think I’d start with his balls and….”

Buffy stood up abruptly, “I get it, Angel,” she stated evenly, surprised at the calm in her voice, “I cheat, I die and everyone around me? Right?”

Angel looked up at her, his eyes were narrowed into slits of cocoa brown and yellow flecks of anger, “right,” he muttered harshly, “but we don’t have to worry about that do we, darling?”

‘No’ Buffy shook her head, “we don’t have to worry about that, Angel,” she answered as he pulled her back down on the couch.

Angel took another gulp of his drink and eyed her again, taking in the jean mini-skirt and light pink sweater she wore.

“You look good again, Buffy,” he smiled at her as he spoke, “your Mom must have fed you well. I guess your ‘illness’ is gone, huh?”

She nodded silently and again focused on the coffee table, anything other then to look him in those angry eyes of his.

Finally, Buffy folded her little hands together in her lap and got up the nerve to look Angel in the face, “Angel?” she began meekly, “can I ask you something?”

He continued to stare at her, the smug smile still in place, “of course, you’re my adoring wife, right? You can ask me anything.”

Buffy nodded again, swallowed hard and asked defiantly, “what if I had done what you just threatened me with?”

‘Huh’ Angel seemed to ask with his eyes, which were suddenly filled with confusion.

“I mean,” Buffy seemed to find her courage with each word, “what if I had gone after you and that Chase ‘ho’ when I found out about your little sexcapades?”

End of Chapter 38; Part I


(Chapter 38; Part II begins immediately following this!)


Chapter 38: Part II



Buffy jutted her chin out bravely, okay, false bravado maybe, but she felt like she had to do it. If nothing more, it might wipe that smug smirk off of her arrogant husband’s stupid face.

“What?” Angel shook his head as if to clear his alcohol addled mind, “you know about me and Faith Chase?”

Buffy just stared at Angel in shock, “you and Faith?” she stammered, too stunned to say any more for the time being.

Angel looked like a trapped rat, his dark eyes were wild with something Buffy recognized as fear, or was it guilt?

“I,” he stammered himself, “how did you know about Faith and me?”

She just sat and stared for a minute or so, then Buffy burst out in hysterical laughter. “Faith!” she chortled, “Faith and Cordelia? My God, Angel, you getting a family rate now?”

She thought she heard him say something akin to ‘mother fucking hell’ but she couldn’t be sure; Buffy was too caught up in the sublime ridiculousness of this whole scene.

“How did you know about Cordy?” Angel whimpered, looking more like a whipped puppy then ever.

“Caught you two,” she stopped laughing long enough to explain, “a few months ago, fucking on the $15,000.00 antique I picked out so painstakingly for your Christmas present last year. Instead of causing a scene right in your office, or bitch slapping your whore around Sunnydale, I left unannounced and came home to cry it out.”

Angel sat looking at his huge, rather ugly hands, silent as a grave for a moment at least.

“Buffy,” he whispered, not bothering to look at her this time, “I don’t love Faith, don’t love Cordy. I love you, I want you the most. They’re just play things, nothing real or important or even….”

Buffy held up her hand to him, “don’t!” she hissed, “don’t. I don’t want to hear your lame ass explainations or your manly excuses, I’m tired and sick and I just don’t care right now, Angel.”

She tried to stand up to leave, but her husband yanked her back down.

“It’s your fault, Buffy!” he whined, instantly disgusting her with his weakness, “if you were more adventerous in bed then I wouldn’t have had to go to Cordelia or Faith.”

Buffy gasped in shock again, “Good God, Angel, don’t put this on me. Our life in that way was fine until I caught you fucking Queen Bitch Cordelia on your desk. And Faith, for the record, I had no idea about her. What’s wrong, Cordy dump you for Riley Finn and you moved down on the evolution scale to her even skankier little sister?”


Buffy realized right off that she had made a severe error in judgement and her choice of words.

“At least those ‘skanks’ as you put it are willing to give me what I want, Buff,” he hissed angrily. “Maybe if you played hot and nasty with me, I’d stick around more and fuck you regularly. I’d give them up tomorrow, all of them, just play nice with me. Would you like that better, babe?”

She tried to pull her arm away from his rough hand, but he held tight, “I mean,” he purred, “what if we did it, right here and now? I’m ‘up’ for it, how about you?”

Buffy again tried to pull away from him, but failed miserably, “I’m supposed to have sex with you now, Angel?” she asked stunned by his nerve, “after I’ve just called you out on your infidelity? I wouldn’t fuck you now if….”

He yanked her closer to him until their faces were just inches apart, “okay,” he growled, “so you wouldn’t like it better, who gives a fuck? I’ll just take it, I am your husband, right, Buffy? Who can deny that I have the right to ‘have’ you anytime I want?”

She glared at him in horror, “take me; have me? You have ‘no’ rights over me, Angel Travers, this isn’t about sex or love or anything having to do with them.”

“Oh, it’s got everything to do with sex, love and want, Buffy darling,” he chuckled wickedly, “I’m your husband, you’re my wife, there is no taking in this. I want, I take and you give to me, it’s that simple. In fact, precious,” he whispered in her ear, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more then right this minute.”

He began to paw at her, pulling her little sweater up and trying to pin her to the back of the couch.

“Get your filthy hands off of me!” she cried frantically, pushing at him.

Angel ignored her protests and tumbled off the couch onto the floor, kicking the coffee table away from them in the tussle.

“Angel, dammit!” she cried again desperately, “I don’t want to, leave me alone!”

But he just laughed and flipped her underneath his massive body, pinning her to the floor beneath him, “come on Buff,” he taunted her, “you have to admit, rough is a real turn on. Lighten up and enjoy!”

With that, he tugged her jean skirt up over her hips and ripped her thong off of her, at the same time he used his right hand to unzip his own jeans and yank them down past his knees.

“Angel! No! This is rape, Angel!” she screamed, knowing full well that he was past listening to her and sadly aware that no one else could hear her.

“Yes! And for the record, baby, a husband can’t rape his own wife!” he gasped as he slammed his cock into her, even though she wasn’t at all ready for him and never would be again.

As she struggled against him, he pummeled into her and tried to kiss her face and neck. Buffy fought him best as she could, but the sad truth was Angel was twice her size and weight and much stronger then her and the more she struggled against him, the more he seemed to get excited by it.

Just before he came inside of her, slamming down on her hips and thighs, surely leaving bruises, Angel gasped something about Buffy still being the hottest piece of ass in Sunnydale and bit down on the place where her right shoulder and lower neck met. She felt her warm blood seep out into his mouth and tried not to cry out in pain and humiliation.

“Mine!” he cried in triumph as he came, causing her pain deep within her body. “You are mine!” he panted as he tried to calm himself from his orgasm, collapsing on her tiny frame.

Buffy could only lie there torn and bruised, beaten down and defeated.

When Angel had calmed himself down enough, he rolled off of Buffy and onto his back on the floor with a groan. Buffy took the opportunity to slide away from him and shakily stand up, trying not to fall back down next to him on their carpet.

She stumbled towards the downstairs bathroom where she slammed the door behind her and locked it. Trying to forget about her absolute horror of a husband lying on their living room floor, Buffy turned on the shower, making sure the water was good and hot.

For the next forty minutes, she scrubbed the filth and ugliness of the last hour and half from her body, trying not to think on things too much. When she exited the bathroom, Angel was sitting on the couch, his head thrown on the back of the couch, eyes half closed.

Apparently he had cleaned up and gotten dressed before he returned to the scene of the crime and Buffy noticed the overnight bag next to his feet.

“Buffy?” he mumbled, not looking at her, “I need to….”

She hurried to the stairs to head to their bedroom, a towel wrapped around her damp body.

“Buffy, wait!” he called again.

Buffy stopped mid stairwell and kept her back to him, “what?” she asked mechanically.

“I’m going to stay at the ‘Club’ for tonight, maybe tomorrow night. I think we need to be apart for a couple of days, think about things. Heal.”

She turned slowly and looked down at him, thinking how she had never hated anyone quite so much as she did him, right this minute.

“Yeah,” she whispered in a strained voice, “I think you should move to the ‘Club’ maybe even make it your permenant residence for a while, huh Angel?”

‘Smart man Angel,’ she thought with a strange smirk, ‘I wouldn’t want to go to sleep around me either if I was you, not tonight anyway.’

“Buffy, I….” He began, standing up, but she turned back around and headed up the stairs, “I love you Buffy,” he called. “I’ll call you in a couple of days. We’ll both be cooled off then, we’ll fix this.”

Buffy never answered him back.

She waited, up in her bedroom at her little vanity table; waited for the sound of their jeep going down the driveway. Angel opened the garage door and took off in the jeep, screeching out of the driveway and off down the street.

‘Always with the big entrances and exits, huh Angel?’ she shook her head sadly and began to brush her long damp hair slowly. When she looked in the vanity mirror, she noticed that the bite mark on her neck had already turned ugly and bluish in color.

“Probably will scar slightly,” she shrugged almost indifferently, “who gives a rat’s ass now?”

Setting her brush down on the table, Buffy reached for her cell phone and dialed Will’s number, “please, please answere Will,” she pleaded in a whisper.

His deep voice came on, “Buffy? You okay, Princess?” he asked gently.

‘Thank God for modern technology and caller ID,’ she thought, feeling the tears start to spill from her eyes.

“Will?” she whispered weakly.

“Buffy, what’s wrong? Something’s wrong,” William began to sound panicked, “where are you, baby?” he asked frantically.

“Will, I need to see you, talk to you and hold you, can I…” but she couldn’t finish.

“Buffy, where are you, what is it?” he began to really sound scared now.

“I’m at home, it’s Angel, Will,” she choked out, “he kind of hurt me and….”

Will screamed over the phone, “I’m coming over there, I’ll fucking tear that prick apart if he hit you!”

Buffy began to panic even more herself, “no! You can’t come here, Will! Angel, he’s not here now, Will,” she tried to explain through her tears, embarrassed by her weakness.

“He left, went to stay somewhere for the night, please Will, can I just come to your place. I need you and I need…”

William interrupted her, “of course you can, but I don’t think you should drive that far baby. Let me come to that little mall right down the street from your neighborhood. I’ll meet you there, but you have to promise me you’ll be alright, Princess. Okay? Just promise me you’ll be okay until you get there,or I swear to God I’ll come over there and I don’t give a fuck which one of your neighbors sees me!”

Buffy agreed to meet him close by, he was right, she probably wouldn’t make it to his place on her own. She was too messed up, physically, mentally and emotionally. After all, her own husband had just raped her.


A/N: Yes, I definitely toned that one down a bit, but I had to have Angel be the real evil bad guy, I was afraid readers might be starting to feel sorry for Mr. Broody and I couldn’t have that. Well, that was hard, and we’ll have to see just how Spike revenges Buffy and himself against Angel. Thanks for reading, please review, luv Spuf





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