Angelus was momentarily thrown backward by Spike’s counter-assault – but almost immediately recovered, lunging for his childe and hurling him to the ground beneath him, and then falling upon him with vicious intensity, before he could even think of getting up.
Angel had been angry, defensive, over losing what he thought was his – but ultimately, had been reigned by his guilt over the crimes he had already committed against Spike, humiliating and torturing him until he had eventually left him broken and destroyed.
His soul had been horrified and sickened by the wreckage he had made of the once innocent young man.
His demon only longed to break him again.
“That the way you wanna play this, Will?” Angelus snarled, glaring down at Spike, as he held him pinned to the floor, glistening fangs inches from his throat. “Aim for the weakest spot? Dirty fighting? Fine with me!” he sneered. “Just remember one thing, boy…”
He punctuated his words with a vicious upward thrust of his knee toward Spike’s groin.
“…*I* taught you how!”
Spike had to admit -- by this point he was bloody exhausted. He had faced brutal torture at the hands of a Slayer -- several times -- completed a mating claim, only to face greater torture and physical agony at the hands of the same evil Slayer -- all capped by the hardest fight of his life, to bring the Slayer demon under subjection again.
And now – this.
*Why did I think this was a good time for this again?* he wondered with grim sarcasm.
He wanted to do this; he knew that he had to. If he didn’t do this now, he might never get another opportunity. He wanted more than anything to show his sire just how far he was from the terrified childe that he had dominated and abused for so long -- he was just beginning to wonder if he was up to it at the moment.
Spike just barely managed to roll his hips to the side, narrowly avoiding the greatest impact of the painful blow, before twisting his wrists in his sire’s grasp, freeing himself enough to shove the elder vampire’s greater weight off of him, and summoning all his strength, swiftly reversing their positions.
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice soft and breathless with the effort of the fight, as he mimicked Angelus’ actions of moments before – only managing to complete the blow, where Angelus had failed to do so. “And I learned well, didn’t I?”
The blinding pain that shot through Angelus at the impact to his groin did not even allow him the release of a scream. A barely audible gasping whistle of pain was all the sound that left his lips, and Spike smiled down at him with wickedly gleeful satisfaction.
“Tell me, sire,” he mocked him casually. “How’s that follow through you were always ‘encouraging’ me to improve on?”
Angelus was still not quite capable of a verbal response, though his eyes glared daggers of fury at his childe, and a low growl was clearly audible in his throat – a growl that, a century ago, would have frozen the younger vampire in his tracks.
Now, if it registered with the blonde vampire – now a master in his own right – he didn’t let it show.
“ ‘Course,” Spike went on thoughtfully, “your idea of encouragement involved hours of torture while you quizzed me on what exactly I’d done wrong – never mind the fact that half the time I was in too much bloody pain to *think*, let alone answer your soddin’ questions…you’d just punish me for that, too…”
He paused, meeting Angelus’ dark eyes full of loathing again, a cold half-smile on his lips as he asked softly, with a dark irony in his voice, “What do you think *your* big mistake was in this little scenario, Angelus?”
The dark vampire glared up at him, snarling as he began to recover from the blow and tried – too soon – to push his childe off of him – only to find himself slammed forcefully down against the floor again.
“No,” Spike drawled slowly, his voice a calm mockery of patience, as he smiled grimly down at the vampire who had once taken so much pleasure in turning his existence into a study in misery and humiliation. “Got to answer the question, and correctly – or you’ll just get punished again…”
Angelus managed to recover enough to snarl furiously, “I’m gonna kill you, you worthless little…”
Spike raised one hand to strike a vicious blow across his sire’s face that momentarily stunned him enough to cease his threats and his struggles, as he fought just to recover from the dazing blow Spike had dealt him.
“Wrong answer,” Spike announced matter-of-factly, mingled anger and triumph in his eyes, though his voice remained calm and steady.
Enraged by the audacity of the younger vampire, whom he still viewed as nothing more than his own property, to use or to throw away as he saw fit, Angelus rose up beneath him, snapping at his throat with bared fangs, shoving him backward with an extreme force of will that simply would not allow him to stay in that subservient position for a moment longer.
As Spike started to rise from where he had stumbled backward onto the floor, Angelus caught his ankle in one powerful hand and jerked his leg out from under him, causing him to lose his balance and fall back down onto the floor, as the older vampire struggled to his feet.
Buffy stepped forward, her heart pounding with fear at the thought that Angelus might gain the upper hand. She could feel Spike's weariness through the claim, could feel that he was gradually wearing down -- and she was fully prepared to do whatever it took to protect her mate – even if that meant reducing the first love of her life, the one she had given her youth and virginity to, to nothing but dust and ashes.
*No.*
Her mate’s voice was strong and clear in her head, even as she watched his attempt to rise met by a brutal punch from Angelus that sent him staggering back, stumbling again.
*Spike – I can’t let him…*
*Not your fight, pet…let it be…*
Frustrated, it was all Buffy could do to keep from running to his defense, as Angelus followed up his first punch with several more, backing Spike gradually toward the wall, never pausing long enough between blows to allow the younger vampire to get one in.
*Spike – give yourself a break! You've been fighting all night! If he hurts you because I’m standing here doing nothing, I’ll never be able to forgive myself…*
*And if the only reason he *doesn’t* hurt me is because you step in…I’ll never be able to live with myself.*
She was struck with the simple truth of her mate’s calm, accepting words – accepting of whatever the outcome of this fight would be, yet certain in one thing…the victory, or the defeat, in this particular battle, had to be his and his alone.
As difficult as it was for her, Buffy forced herself to stay put, as Angelus closed the gap between himself and his childe again, gripping Spike’s collar and slamming him hard against the wall behind him, while the dazed younger vampire struggled to get his bearings back after the volley of vicious blows that had allowed him no time to recover between them.
“I think I figured out what my mistake was, Will,” Angelus finally answered the question Spike had asked him, his voice soft and threatening, a cruel smirk on his face as he drew in closer to the smaller vampire to whisper close to his ear, “Ever…letting…you…go…”
The suggestive note to his low voice sent a little shudder of fear through Spike, in spite of himself – but it also cut through the fog created by the last few blows he had taken, and spurred him on to action.
*No!* he thought with a desperate determination. *Not again -- *never* again!*
He tried again to push his larger sire away from him – but his strength was swiftly fading, drained by this final fight, after so many others already this night.
Angelus slammed him back against the wall again before pinning his wrists, leaning in with a sadistic grin as he went on, “I shouldn’t have let that claim lapse, Will,” he remarked softly, his eyes raking slowly up and down Spike’s body with undisguised lust. “You know what they say about not knowing a good thing ‘til it’s gone?”
“Yeah, well – it *is* gone, Peaches!” Spike declared, struggling against Angelus’ grip, which only seemed to strengthen as his own physical strength waned. “You can’t claim me now – not now that I’m Buffy’s mate!”
A cruel laugh, like shattering crystal, left the master vampire’s lips, and he shook his head in false sympathy. “William, William, my boy,” he mused softly with a mockery of affection. “Have you forgotten so quickly? I have many ways of keeping you under control – claim or no claim…”
He leaned in close to whisper in Spike’s ear, too quiet for Buffy to pick up the words.
But the mental picture those words were creating in her mate’s mind was unmistakable.
As Angelus poured out his vicious words, telling a horrifying story of unbreakable chains, unrelenting agony, darkness and lonely solitude broken only when *he* chose to break it, to play with his bound, helpless toy – the wave of despair that Spike felt nearly swept Buffy away with it. Memories mingled with threats to form a terrifying, morbid montage of blood and screams and helpless, mind-numbing terror – and not without good cause.
Spike knew very well what it was that he was afraid of.
Unfortunately – so did Angelus.
The rising panic brought on by his carefully placed words did nothing to increase Spike’s strength – if anything, the trembling that started deep in his chest, spreading out to consume his limbs, served only to weaken his efforts to break his sire’s grip.
“You should have known better than to fight me by now, boy,” Angelus sneered in a dark, thunderous voice near his ear – still low enough that only Spike could hear him.
The impulse he suddenly had to go still – to submit – frightened Spike more than anything else his sire had done so far.
*No, no, you stupid wanker!* he berated himself disgustedly. *Don’t let him do this – don’t let him…*
*Spike – do you want me to…*
**No*!* he emphatically cut off his mate’s anxious offer. *No, Buffy – I can handle this.*
There was a moment’s silence in his head, before he heard her dubious voice again, *Spike – I don’t know what he’s saying to you – he obviously doesn’t *want* me to know – but don’t listen to him! You can do this, Spike, he has no claim – no power over you!*
Spike was silent for a moment, trying to make himself accept the words that his mind knew were true, but that his heart could not quite feel. He replied softly after a moment, his mental voice betraying his fear, *Bloody well feels like he does.*
It was nearly enough for Buffy to disregard his wishes completely, to jump in and help him, even if he hated her for it.
“Hey,” Angelus smirked with mocking reproof in his voice. “No secrets. What are you two talking about, huh?” Without changing his tone, he raised one hand to suddenly seize Spike’s throat in a crushing grip, and added softly, “You probably don’t wanna come any closer, Buff – not unless you *want* me to take his head off.”
Buffy froze, a soft, strangled cry of fear stopping in her throat, and Angelus glanced at her for a moment with – amazingly – something resembling concern in his dark eyes.
“You’d be better off without him, anyway, Buffy,” he pointed out. “You’d be free, to choose whoever you wanted – except him, of course.” The cruel smile on his face sent a wave of familiar fears and shame through Spike’s heart and mind.
But through it all, through the overwhelming fear and desperation to turn the tables on his sire again, something was niggling at the back of his mind – a vague thought struggling to come into focus. Something Buffy had said, about Angelus…something about the look on his sire’s face as he had turned to glance at the Slayer, actually appearing to be *concerned* for her feelings – to a point.
Even now – he was attempting to ease the hurt and worry he knew she felt over the possibility that he might kill Spike.
That was not something the Angelus he had known would *ever* have done.
It *was* something that *Angel* would have done.
Suddenly – Spike understood exactly what was happening.
*Buffy – he still has his soul!*
It was a good thing that Angel’s back was turned to the Slayer – because her wide-eyed look of shock would surely have given Spike’s silent communication away.
*What are you talking about, Spike? That is so *not* Angel we’re dealing with here – this is…*
*I bloody well know who we’re dealing with, pet,* Spike cut her off sharply, his voice trembling with anger, and some other emotion that was too painful for Buffy to even attempt to define. *Just – just try to bloody distract him…*
“Angel – please…” Buffy stepped toward him, but it was not in a threatening way. “Please don’t do this!” she urgently pleaded, keeping her voice soft and submissive.
“Buffy – you don’t really know what you’re asking,” the dark vampire replied, his voice grim, though he was still smiling as Spike’s hands scrabbled uselessly at the large, powerful arm that held his throat in a vise-like grip.
A century later – Angel still remembered how terrified the inability to breathe could make the smaller vampire; he had used it to his own ends enough times to know.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this…how many *years* I’ve…”
His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, moving in yet closer to his childe, his softly spoken hatred intended for Spike, though he was addressing Buffy.
“And now – he actually thinks he’s gonna move in and take what’s mine -- *mine*! What rightfully belongs to me!” He shrugged slightly, tightening his grip on Spike’s throat as he met his eyes and continued, “You’ve just left me with no choice but to kill you, boy. The claim might be unbreakable…You, on the other hand….” His huge fist slammed into Spike’s stomach, hard enough that he would have collapsed had Angel not been holding him against the wall. “…you’re *not*!”
“I’m *not* rightfully yours, Angel,” Buffy informed him, her voice calm and even, and absolutely certain.
She wanted nothing more than to rush over, grab Angel and yank him away from Spike, pound him to dust with her bare hands, rescue her mate from the perilous situation he was in. And she knew that she could. She could easily subdue Angel, if she wanted to – and she *did* want to!
But if she did – she would save her mate from physical harm – and take from him forever any chance of regaining the dignity that Angelus had stolen from him.
“Buffy,” Angel turned halfway to face her, without releasing his grip on his childe’s throat. “I know you’re hurt – I know you’re mad at me…but…”
“No,” Buffy said firmly. “When you left me, I was mad at you. This is not ‘mad at you’, Angel. This is wanting to find the slowest possible way to dust you and then make it as absolutely painful as I possibly can. This is absolute rage that you would *dare* to *touch* my mate like that!”
A disgusted sneer crossed Angel’s face, as he scoffed, “Please, Buffy – don’t even call him that! You did what you had to do to save the world – I get that. But I know a part of you will always love…”
“I *never* loved you, Angel.”
The lie fell from her lips with greater ease than she could have imagined – and it immediately gained the attention of the dark-haired vampire, who spun around to face her, easing his grip on Spike’s throat finally as he stared at her, wide-eyed and incredulous.
“*What*?”
Spike’s expression did not change, and he did not try to pull away – yet – but he was laughing on the inside. Buffy’s words had reached past the demon side of Angel that had been in control, to the man side that had loved the girl, even if it *had* been a selfish love. And by Angel’s reaction, it was obvious to Spike – this was going to work.
And he was going to love every moment of watching it work.
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