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Author's Chapter Notes:
For those who wanted to know how Buffy dusted Cecily when she was wearing the Gem, be patient. All will be revealed soon.
Spike lingered for a moment before the full impact of her words hit him, bringing tears to his eyes. His Buffy, his beautiful vampire, was going back into the darkness, facing the monster of her past, for him. He closed his eyes, images of her thin, bleeding body when they’d first met swimming before his eyes, bringing a rising sense of panic.

Then he remembered her as she fought naked in the firelight, her muscles rippling as she reached into the flames and defeated her sibling. Firmly pushing down his fear and doubt, he started off in the direction Buffy had told him to go, focussing on the confrontation ahead, which promised to be the most difficult of his career.

****

She could feel him. He was lurking in the shadows, taunting her as she sought him, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. Her demon, uneasy at the idea of fighting its Sire but furious at the gross tortures it had suffered, growled quietly and her eyes, which had faded to green a few moment ago, flashed silver.

The Slayer part of her, too, was restless. She had fought Angelus before, but then he had only hated her for making a part of him love. Now, remembering the triumph she felt as Drusilla crumbled to dust beneath her, she let the euphoria wash over their bond; a wave of satisfaction swept through her when she felt his rage. Her fangs elongated as his presence drew closer, both demon and Slayer ready for what promised to be her most difficult challenge in over a decade.

****

Spike stood outside the door, taking a deep breath. His grip on the axe tightened, the handle creaking under the strain of his power. Lifting a booted foot, he slammed it into the heavy oak. The door crashed off its hinges, rusted with age as they were, making a booming thud as it landed.

Stepping through into the dreary room, he caught sight of Wood and felt suddenly sick. The brave, intense man he’d come to love as a father was gone, in his place a shell of a human being, unconscious, beaten and bruised. Looking closer, his eyes caught on the flowing letter ‘D’ carved neatly into his Watcher’s shoulder. His fury roared in his ears, his Slayer sense exploding with warning, only just leaving him time to duck the blow aimed at his skull.

Darla grinned at him, her golden eyes dancing. Her voice was a low, silky purr. “Well well well, the little boy turned up after all. Want to play with me, little Slayer boy?”

***

Buffy grimaced as she stepped through the open door and into the total darkness of the room. She let her demon ease forward, the predator’s superb night vision making the shadows an easily dismissed obstacle. She walked deeper into the room, her eyes picking out the murky form of her tormentor.

Old terror welled in her for a fleeting moment as he rose, giving her a view of his seat. The cage door had been reattached, but the bloodstains and dirt from her years of imprisonment were still there. It took her only a few seconds to gather her courage, but Angelus had already struck.

A meaty hand gripped her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly into the air. He threw her into the wall, a grunt forced from her lips as her spine crackled in protest. She looked up, only to find her Sire advancing on her, his eyes flat and cold with rage. His voice was soft, caressing. Deadly.

“So, Childe, you came back. I’m glad. Now we can have some fun.”

****

Darla launched herself at him, her fangs bared in a venomous smile. Spike swung the axe, the flat of the blade catching the full weight of her body. He pulled back ready to strike, but she had slipped around behind him before he could blink. A small foot landed firmly in his back, propelling him forwards.

He thudded into the wall, using the momentum to flip over backwards. Darla, already in mid-charge, twisted and struck snake-like at his arm with her fangs. The flesh tore, making him hiss in pain. Dancing out of reach, he watched as her tongue licked over her bloodied fangs in an obscenely sensual touch.

She giggled, a girlish sound at odds with the cruel smile lighting her beautiful face. “Is that all you’ve got, Slayer? Really, Buffy fought better than that the first few times. Well, until Angelus managed to get it in and started to fuck her. Then she just screamed. What about you? You going to scream for me?”

Spike saw red. The image of Buffy, pinned and helpless underneath Angelus’ heavy body, made a rage like none other spring to life in him. Suddenly his movements became cool and quick, clearing the foggy uncertainty from him mind as he kicked her feet out from under her.

“Sorry, pet. I’m not a screamer.”

****

Buffy was desperate. Angelus was a master of torture, physical and psychological, as she knew well. She was distracted by her worry over Spike and Wood, a fact he wasn’t hesitating to exploit. As she landed heavily on her back, she kicked out and rolled away, coming to her feet only to find him chuckling.

“Really, Buff, you should work out more. Then again, I guess you’ll have nobody to train with soon enough. When Darla stops playing with her food, you’ll be all alone. What was it I said to you?”

He began to advance, backing her into a corner as he spoke. Her back hit the wall as her eyes closed, the sword dropping from her numb fingers as she felt the faint sense of delight coursing through her Grandsire’s veins. Only one thing gave Darla that much pleasure: Slayer blood. Moaning in denial, she slid down the wall and sank to the floor.

Angelus sneered, his voice becoming a silky whisper as he loomed over her. “Take it all away again. No hope, no friends, nothing. And what do you have left?”

The memory surged inside her. The sword glittered in promise as he bent to lift it; her eyes snapped open, tears shining there to mask the hatred that suddenly swallowed her. As he swung the blade down, her hands snapped up. The familiarity of the scene made her cringe inside, but she yanked the weapon from his grip with savage strength.

“My answer hasn’t changed. Me.”

****

Darla snarled as the axe bit into her thigh. She’d jumped to avoid the Slayer’s powerful but expertly controlled swing, only to find he’d already changed its course. Blood poured down her leg in a crimson waterfall. She dropped to the floor, her damaged limb giving out as she crumpled to the floor.

Spike bent over her, heaving the axe back in preparation for the final blow. Darla, seeing her opportunity, lashed out. Gripping him around the throat, she yanked him down to her level, fangs bared. For a moment the Slayer lost his balance, instinct bringing the axe down to compensate for the sudden lurch.

Darla’s eyes widened in shock and blinding pain a moment before the sharp edge of the blade hit the floor with a resounding ring. She crumbled to dust underneath him. Slowly, aware of numerous cuts and bruises that were protesting the movement, Spike rose. Wrenching the chains apart, he lifted Wood’s body, the faint moan of awareness from the Watcher music to his ears.

Looking back at the pile of dust on the floor, he thought for a moment before spitting on it. “That was for Buffy.”

****

For the second time in as many weeks, Angelus felt searing pain blasting his system. However, this time his demon keened its loss at an unbearable level; he hadn’t just lost his Sire, he’d lost his mate. He slumped to his knees, ignoring his Childe as he wallowed in black despair.

Buffy stared for a moment as her tormentor suddenly collapsed, writhing in pain on the floor. It took her a moment to realise what was happening, and she slammed the vague connection she’d felt with Darla off before the pain could reach her. Rising, she kicked him once in the chest, snarling in satisfaction when she heard his ribs snap.

She wiped a hand across her eyes, drying the tears that had fallen. Casting a last look back at the figure on the floor, she walked calmly from the room, slamming the door shut behind her and leaving Angelus consumed by his pain. Finding Spike waiting for her outside the manor, she wordlessly grabbed one of Wood’s arms and hefted his weight. Exchanging a look of heated promise with her lover, she turned them to face home.





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