Summary: Once, William Pratt was a quiet poet, madly in love with his wife, Drusilla. Now, Spike is a loner, hunting in the night for the monster who took her away. He is focused on vengeance, making no room for anything else in his life – until his plan to get his revenge takes a turn he never could have predicted.
Author's Notes: Parts of this fic get very dark. There’s angst, there’s violence,
there’s stuff that’s not altogether happy. It’s not all angst, but
there is a good bit, especially in certain parts. If at any point it
gets to be two much for you, you can do one of two things: stop
reading, hold your breath and hope it gets better, or email me and ask
me to answer any question you have about what’s coming up to see if
it’s something you still want to read. (I’ll always answer those
questions in private emails sent to addie_logan@yahoo.com. I will not
answer them in a public forum like my livejournal or a review page. I
don’t want to spoil the story for people who don’t want to know.)
However, what I ask you not to do is complain to me about things
being too dark or tell me it’s too much for you. I have some readers
who have problems with angst and some who don’t. I’m not going to
shortchange the ones who do, or myself for that matter, because some
people can’t take it. That’s not fair to anyone. So if you don’t like
what I’m writing, then that’s your personal preference, and you’re free
to read something else. I understand that, and I’m fine with it. I’m
not fine with flame wars, nor am I fine with people harassing me,
writing me threatening emails, or trash talking me around the internet.
(And just so you know, I’m not paranoid – this has happened.)
So, to sum up – there is angst. If you like it, that’s cool,
keep reading. If you don’t, that’s cool, too, you can quit reading. Or
read with one eye covered. Or something. Just don’t flame me.
Rating: NC-17
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Buffy wasn’t sure how she managed to make it back home. She’d never
been in such excruciating pain, and the need for blood was pressing.
Several times she’d fallen, and it had taken all of her strength to get
back up again.
The one thing that kept her going was knowing when she got to Angelus,
he’d take care of her. He’d give her blood, help her heal. Surely he’d
put his campaign to take over Los Angeles on the back burner when he
saw how badly she needed him now.
She let out a sigh of relief as she came through the front door, and
collapsed into a heap. The minions standing guard started shouting, and
she drifted in and out of consciousness as a flurry of activity went on
around her.
She opened her eyes at the sound of Angelus’s voice, and she tried to
pull herself up off the floor, moaning at the pain. He stormed over to
her, grabbing her up by her arm and to her feet. “Where have you been?”
he snapped.
Buffy winced, his grip making the burns on her arms hurt worse.
“There…there was a man. Some sort of demon hunter. He…he was looking
for you, and he found me. He tried…he tried to make me tell him where
you were.”
“Did you tell him?” Angelus demanded, shaking her.
Buffy cried out from the pain. “No, of course not! Let me go, please. You’re…you’re hurting me.”
“Do you think I care about that right now, you stupid bitch?” Angelus
asked, his face hard with anger. Then, he let her go suddenly, and
Buffy slumped back to the ground. “Although really, I don’t even want
to touch you. You look disgusting.”
“Angelus?” Buffy asked, her voice full of confusion and hurt. “Why…why are you saying these things?”
“Why am I saying these things? Because you deserve what happened to
you, you worthless slut. I told you not to leave, and you did. Not only
that, but you ran off with a minion. I had to stake him and every other
minion that saw you leave and didn’t do anything! Now I’m going to have
to go get more minions, and that’s just going to set back my timetable.”
“I don’t care about your timetable!” Buffy screamed, finding herself at
her breaking point. “I just wanted you to pay attention to me!”
“You spoiled little fucking brat,” Angelus snarled. “You know,
sometimes, I don’t even know why I bothered to keep you around as long
as I did. You aren’t that good in bed.”
His words taking her by complete surprise, Buffy reared back. “What?”
“It’s time I do what I should’ve done a long time ago. All you’ve ever done is nag me, whine at me. You’re so needy, Buffy. Just a demanding little child who doesn’t even have a good enough cunt to make it all worth it.”
Buffy felt herself slipping into shock, unable to believe this was
actually happening. He was supposed to love her, want to take care of
her. He’d told her that’s why he’d turned her, because he wanted to
keep her with him. Because he knew the moment he saw her that she was
someone special, someone meant for him.
Their love was supposed to last forever…
“Angelus, please, help me,” Buffy begged, unable to stop
herself from crying again. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean to cause all
this trouble. I made a mistake, and I’m sorry, but I love you…”
Angelus sneered down at her. “God, would you listen to yourself? You’re pathetic. Weak. A miserable excuse for a vampire.” He shook his head. “It makes me sick just to look at you.”
Buffy cringed, his words cutting into her. He was right…
She felt pathetic and weak. She’d allowed a human to overpower and
torture her, and she couldn’t stop herself from sobbing like a child.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her words barely louder than a whisper.
“Yeah, you know what? I don’t care if you’re sorry. I don’t care about you at all, bitch.”
Shaking, Buffy managed to pull herself up, grabbing Angelus’s hand in a
desperate attempt to make this stop. She couldn’t take this. After all
she’d been through today, she couldn’t lose him, too… “Please. I’ll
make it up to you. Just don’t… Please don’t tell me you don’t love me
anymore. Please…”
“I don’t love you,” he replied coldly. “Fuck, Buffy, I’m a vampire, not
some simpering fool. Sure, you were fun for a while, but come on. Did
you really think you’d keep me satisfied forever? Especially since you
never seemed to get past the irritating little mallrat stage you were
in when I found you. I mean, geez, Buff, if I have to sit through
another John Hughes movie, I may have to throw myself on a stake.”
“I…I can try to be better,” Buffy pleaded with him weakly. “I will be better.”
“Sorry, baby, I’ve already got better,” Angelus replied with a smirk.
He pushed her off of him, sending her toppling to the floor. “Would
someone please take the garbage out? I’ve got a real woman to attend
to.”
It was then that Buffy noticed the unfamiliar scent on him, and she
wondered how she hadn’t to begin with, the cloying, overpowering odor
of another female on her sire suddenly all she could smell at all. She
screamed Angelus’s name as he walked away, but he didn’t turn around,
didn’t acknowledge he’d heard her at all. Two of the minions approached
her, grabbing her off the floor by both arms, and Buffy screamed
louder, struggling as they dragged her from the building.
Unceremoniously, they tossed her outside and locked the door behind them.
Buffy panted as she lay in the grass, a feeling of hopelessness washing
over her. She wanted to wake up, wanted this all to be nothing more
than a bad dream. Never had she imagined Angelus would do what he’d
just did. She knew they’d had rough patches over the years, even times
when they’d temporarily gone their separate ways, but she’d always
known in her heart that he loved her.
Tonight he proved he didn’t. She was in her darkest hour, and he’d turned her away. He’d called her garbage…
She’d withstood torture to protect him, and he’d called her garbage.
Her heart hadn’t beaten in over two decades, but that didn’t make it
incapable of breaking. He’d dismissed her in her darkest hour and gone
to someone else. The thought of her sire in bed with another woman now,
after he’d turned her away… She couldn’t take it. She’d accepted early
on that she’d never be the only woman in his bed, but she’d never
thought she’d be thrown from it completely. She’d simply believed him
when he’d told her vampires didn’t believe in monogamy and that she
shouldn’t take things personally – even when he often flew into a rage
if he caught her with someone else.
For twenty-five years, her existence had centered on Angelus. Even in
the brief times they’d spent apart, she’d still known in her heart
they’d end up together again. He’d been the one constant in her life,
her source of strength that had kept her together in the difficult
beginning, right after her turning, when suddenly everything she’d
known and loved in her life was gone.
He was her world, her life, her everything – and he’d thrown her out like garbage.
Every piece of her hurt, inside and out. She wanted to stay right where
she was and just wait for the sun. Burning up couldn’t possibly hurt
more than continuing on like this…
But she couldn’t do that. Angelus had called her weak, but Buffy knew
she wasn’t. She wouldn’t have gotten even this far if she wasn’t
strong, if she wasn’t a survivor.
She wiped roughly at her tears, cursing herself for shedding them at
all. Angelus may think she was pathetic and worthless, but she’d show
him otherwise. She’d make him see how strong she could be.
She’d make him regret what he’d done to her.
Her features set in grim determination, Buffy pulled herself back to her feet.
Spike didn’t remember ever feeling this frustrated before. He was so
close to finally reaching Angelus, and yet he felt farther away than
he’d ever been before. Almost everyone he talked to had heard of Angelus, yet apparently no one had actually seen him since he’d come
to Los Angeles. It appeared that he’d been staying behind the scenes,
planning something big while his minions took care of most of the dirty
work.
Which meant Spike’s best chance of finding the vampire was most likely
getting a minion to talk – and at the moment, the thought of what that
might entail made bile rise to his throat.
He knew he should’ve killed her. He’d just signed the death warrants of
countless people by letting a vampire go. It didn’t matter that she had
such an innocent-looking face. Beneath the surface was nothing more
than a killer, a demon.
Yet somehow, a flicker of the compassionate man he’d once been had
found its way back to the surface, and he’d been unable to do what he’d
done hundreds of times in the decades since his wife’s death – rid the
world of a vampire.
And now, his heart didn’t feel in the hunt at all. He was in the same
town as Drusilla’s killer, and he knew that meant he should be more
active than ever in his search, yet all he wanted to do was sleep. He was so tired…
Spike stood outside of a dive bar he’d heard was frequented by some of
Angelus’s minions, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He knew
what he needed to do. He needed to go in there, shake the place down,
and find what he wanted to know.
Instead, however, he found himself stubbing his cigarette out beneath
his boot, turning around, and heading back to his current apartment.
He’d get some rest, start fresh tomorrow, and hopefully be back to his
normal self, the events of the past couple days no longer weighing so
heavily on his mind.
That illusion shattered when he walked into the apartment and found Buffy seated on his couch.
He blinked, wondering for a moment if she was even really there. “I
thought… I thought you would’ve gone. That’s why I left you,” Spike
said. “You… I was letting you go.”
“I know,” Buffy replied evenly. “And I did leave. Then I came back.”
“You came back?” Her declaration made absolutely no sense to Spike.
After what he’d done to her, he would’ve thought for certain that she
would’ve run away as soon as he left – and stayed gone. Unless perhaps
she’d come back for revenge…
Only she wasn’t moving towards him and she looked like she was in no
shape to attack him. She looked as bad as she had when he’d left her –
possibly even worse. She was dirty, as if she’d been crawling on the
ground, and he’d never seen someone look so exhausted in his life. If
she was there to kill him, she was at a serious disadvantage.
And he knew she couldn’t have someone with her, at least not inside.
Spike purposely chose to rent apartments when he traveled and not stay
in hotel rooms for that very reason – vampires would need an invitation
to get inside.
So she was sitting on his couch, alone, after coming back to a place where she’d been brutally tortured over the course of two days. There was only one question for him to ask.
“Why?”
She met his eyes, and Spike saw something dark that hadn’t been there before in them now. “Because I’ve changed my mind.”
Spike’s brow furrowed. “Changed your mind?” he asked, still not able to comprehend what had brought her back there.
For a moment, her face changed, her features flickering between human and demon.
“I’m going to help you kill Angelus.”
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