Okay be warned there is some rather icky bits in here - which grossed out Megan - if you are easily upset by graphic descriptions of torture and death of little ones then PLEASE don't read!

That being said I do hope everyone enjoys this chapter - have to say Cordelia kinda surprised me *g*

It had been a hellish few weeks.

Spike shifted slightly. He sighed and resumed the even methodical strokes. The blade gleamed in the light as he sharpened the stiletto dagger to a fine point, his focus only on its sharpness. All around him was movement: stakes being whittled by the whelp, Giles and Willow arguing a point of research, the clicking of keys on a keyboard and the soft murmur of Willow’s voice as she interrupted the Watcher, and finally the clatter of swords.

Spike frowned at an imagined blemish on the cold steel, holding it up to the light and examining it carefully. It had to be perfect. He’d promised her it would be the sharpest dagger ever and that was one promise he intended to keep. She maybe a bitch but he liked her—unlike the others. He cocked his head and watched the two figures sparring. Well, maybe not all of them. He could sense a friendship building between his girl and her opponent. It was an ember, but he suspected that with time it would burn brightly.

“Shift your weight onto the other foot and centre yourself.” Buffy’s voice was firm, brooking no debate from her opponent. “Good. That’s the way, now try again, swing and twist.” She grunted as she parried a blow and then spun and ducked as the sparring sword arched over her head. “That’s good! Do it again.”

Spike tested the balance of the dagger; it stayed level. A glittering promise of destruction and pain, it tipped gently on his index finger as he twisted his wrist a little and the stiletto seesawed slightly. So absorbed in his weapon, Spike missed the giggle from Buffy and the clatter of swords as she put them away.

“Cool! Is it ready?” A feminine hand snatched it away and flipped it into the air expertly. The finely manicured nails tapped along the blade as she examined it closely. “Looks good,” Cordelia nodded and flipped the dagger into the air again.

“Oi, Miss Snatchy!” Spike’s hand snapped out and captured the contested dagger out of the air. “Nearly done, just bide you time.”

“Sheesh, Mr Moodypants or what.” With a huff she turned and flopped down on the stairs leading to the stacks and mopped the back of her neck with a towel. She gave him a small grin, one that he returned. The two of them had what Spike suspected was a budding friendship, something he had never expected as a vampire. One quarter of the Scourge of Europe-- friends with a teenager. But it had happened. He knew where she was coming from, hell he’d experienced painfully the mental mind fucks Peaches was so good at. For that alone he had let her in; somehow he had ended up with Cordelia Chase as a friend. He liked her acerbic wit and sharp tongue.

“Princess, I told you it’d be ready when I say so. You want to have it nice and sharp if you’re going to cut off the old man’s balls.” Spike polished the blade with a soft cloth. He chuckled at the gleam of pleasure that flittered across Cordelia’s eyes. “Like that idea, Princess?”

“Spike, I told you not to encourage her.” Buffy flopped down next to him on the floor and frowned at him.

Spike cocked his head and stared at the green-eyed sprite next to him. He still had moments of ‘what the fuck am I doing here?,’ but those were outweighed by moments when he had her lips on his and all thoughts fled south for the winter. And South was getting a bit blue from all the snogging and nothing more, but he was acutely aware the chit was young and he wasn’t prepared to go all Humbert Humbert on her. He could wait; well he hoped he could…

“Spike, could you give us a hand please?” Giles’s voice brooked no debate. Spike mentally groaned, damming himself again for accidentally revealing he could read Latin. He’d glanced over a translation that the Watcher had been working on and had absently corrected the inaccuracies before he realised what he’d been doing. Now the old git was always calling on him for help.

“Oh, lookat that. Watcher’s pet to the rescue,” Buffy teased. She deftly dodged the half-hearted swipe and giggled over her shoulder at Cordelia.

The sombre brunette acknowledged the giggle but didn’t respond to it. Deep brown eyes fixed on the sharp dagger Spike had been working on for her. Sleek fingers tracing the edges over and over, her obsession with weapons was rapidly exceeding Giles’s and Buffy was beginning to wonder if Cordy was ever gonna come back from the trauma of Angel sex.

Buffy stared at Cordelia’s bowed head; the pale skin at the nape of her neck was exposed and vulnerable looking as she bent down to re-lace her trainers. Her hair was now about an inch long all over, in some places shorter where Angelus had managed to cut close to the scalp. Cordy had spent hours in the salon getting her stylist to repair the damage and the only option had been to cut it short all over and add some highlights. Buffy had sat with her all the way through, their entwined fingers an offering of her silent comfort and support. The once over-confident and popular girl had for the first few days refused to go anywhere without Buffy; the terror of the night had scarred her for life.

Buffy shivered. ‘If I hadn’t met Spike, that could’ve been me’. Guilt filled her for thinking that, reducing Cordelia’s agony into a ‘thank god it’s her, not me’ thought. She was a bad rude girl, to misquote Spike; she rubbed her stomach as the twinges of shame tightened it into knots. Buffy looked up at Cordelia and jumped slightly at the hardness in the former Queen C’s eyes.

“What’s up, Buff?” Cordy asked. She was all too aware of the looks the others gave her and she was getting sick of it. The only reason she was here was to learn to fight and then she was going to kill that son of a bitch. He deserved to die slowly and screaming in pain for what he’d said and done to her that morning. The geeks that Buffy surrounded herself with were still losers in her book, but where once she’d have had fun torturing them, now she just ignored them. She knew what it was like to be a victim of a barbed tongue and somehow it wasn’t right to be a bitch to them anymore. Especially Buffy, who’d been an unexpected support and offered her friendship, something that-- despite all that had happened-- Cordy appreciated.

“Nothing! Was just thinking.” Buffy blushed bright red and busied her hands with putting away the swords they had been using while mentally flagellating herself for thinking she’d had a lucky escape.

“Yeah, right,” Cordelia mumbled. She knew all too well what Buffy was thinking. Hell, if situations were reversed she’d be thinking the same. Inadvertently her hands shot up to her shorn head and tugged on the spikey locks, as if trying to force them to grow. She hated that he’d gone for her hair. Somehow he’d know that she had loved her hair, and by hacking it off he’d done more damage to her than anyone had ever managed. She felt like her security blanket had been ripped away from her.

Cordelia mentally shied away from the poisonous words that had dripped from his venomous tongue that morning, making her hate him even more. She blinked away the tears that welled at the horror of his words. She could hear him say that the fuck had been fun, but a pity that she’d not learned how to tighten her pussy muscles to ensure his pleasure even more, and then the look of glee on his face as he cocked his head and asked her exactly how many guys she’d opened her legs for? Adding that is was kinda lucky he was a vamp and not having to worry about STDs just compounded the chilling sickness she’d felt.

Bile rose in her throat at the memory of those silky words. She knew she wasn’t a fresh faced virgin like Buffy, but she wasn’t a hobag. There had only been two guys before Angel and neither of them had said anything about her being too slack down there for them to feel anything. Insecurity struck her and she wondered if there was something wrong with her body. The contemptuous twist of his lips at the sight of her breasts that morning, had nearly killed her, the way he’d suggested surgery to rectify the sagging issue had filled her with anger and embarrassment. Ever since then she’d worn the firmest bras she could lay her hands on, making sure there was no movement and tightening the straps until they dug into her flesh, leaving red welts on her skin. .

Angel had changed so much overnight; she had been so confused, waking up alone and cold. The feeling of smug satisfaction that she’d stolen Buffy’s crush away from her had melted away within moments of Angel’s return from the shower. Instead of some snuggles and her emerging victorious from his apartment as Queen C, he’d reduced her to a screaming mess – a victim. And for that he would suffer and die. For making her reliant on people that she’d never thought of as friends—needing their help and training, all so he would suffer and bleed. Willow and Xander were still losers, but one thing she’d learned on her climb to the top of the social tree in High School, use people to achieve your goals and then drop them once they were of no more use. So, she made nice with them so that Buffy would accept her more easily. Her parents had taught her well.

She wondered if any of them even knew what she was planning. Giles she was sure knew, but she didn’t care, and Willow and Xander were clueless as ever. Spike for sure, he was too sharp, she couldn’t hide anything from him and by extension she had to include Buffy in that equation. They were as thick as thieves; the irony wasn’t lost on the tall brunette. There she’d been, feeling so smug that she’d scored with Buffy’s guy, when all along the hunk of salty goodness had been replaced with the British cutie, and it was more than obvious he had eyes for no one but Buffy. Cordy let a rueful smile paint over her lips at the idiocy that was her. If she hadn’t been set on making Buffy’s life miserable, then her own wouldn’t be hell-like now.

Now all she was focused on was destroying the bastard who wore Angel’s face and hopefully surviving the confrontation. She knew she wasn’t as strong as Buffy or Spike, but was slowly learning enough to be able to handle herself. All she could hope for was that at the end of the day she survived and he didn’t.

“Look, I really don’t think that will work.” Giles and Spike started bickering over an obscure text and the translation. Their voices pulled Cordelia from her maudlin reflections.

“Right, I’m out of here.” Without waiting to hear anything from the Scoobies, she stalked out and came face to face with, “Harmony!” Cordelia sneered at her once time minion.

“Ohhh, look, it’s uberdyke. Hey, lameo, found any new shops for that ‘oh so butch’ look you’ve got… umph…”

“That felt good!” Cordelia exclaimed, shaking her hand. Her knuckles were bruised but the skin wasn’t broken, not like Harmony’s front teeth.

“Oh bmy god, bat hurths,” Harmony wailed through the blood pouring out of her nose and mouth. Her hands shot up to cup her damaged nose and mouth, blood and chunks of her teeth gushing down the front of her knock-off Pravda dress, changing it from pink to red in seconds.

“Hey!” one of her followers squeaked at Cordelia. The self-satisfied ex-cheerleader now stood smirking at the blood and massaging her fingers. Harmony’s only vocal friend stepped back at the cold look in her one time leader’s eyes. “Nothing, it’s okay,” she hastily muttered and ran off with the other Harmettes, leaving their leader alone and still haemorrhaging all over the hallway.

“Harmony, look at me,” Cordelia ordered coldly, snapping her fingers in front of the blonde bimbo’s face. “That’s it, good girl,” she nodded approvingly. “Now listen to me very closely. From now on there will be no talking down to me or making with the snide comments, you got it?”

Harmony quailed at the anger and malice dripping off her former friend’s voice. She realised too late that she’d pushed the wrong buttons and was now paying for it. All she could hope for was that her dad would fund a trip to the plastic surgeon, again. Her mouth and nose hurt too much for her to say anything so she just nodded.

“Good girl now, run along home.” Cordelia imperiously waved her off and turned to leave, pausing for a brief moment to stick the proverbial knife in. “Hey, if you think about it, I’ve done you a huge favour, cos now your dad’ll have to pay for that new nose you were always bitching about.” She paused for a moment and considered the bleeding mess that was Harmony; a malicious smile curved her lips. “Have to say, anything’s an improvement on what your last surgeon puked up on your face.”

With that Queen C took back her title and stalked out of the High School, leaving Harmony bleeding and crying in the empty hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come, come Angelus, you really must stop brooding.”

The thickset vampire looked up from the dirt floor, his eyes narrowed at the sight of his Great Grandsire. He really loathed the bat-faced old bastard. But she was here and wherever she was, then so was he. What he never could figure out was why the hell the old bastard stuck to living underground? All those centuries he’d done it voluntarily and now, Angelus giggled, now he was stuck in the Hellmouth like a leather dressed vampire shaped cork. Serve the old bugger right, forcing Darla to choose between her childe and sire all those years ago. Flaunting his traditions in their faces when all Darla wanted was a view and a good screw, neither of which the old fart could offer. No wonder she’d chosen him back then and he was banking on her choosing him again, once he’d convinced her that he was unsouled and loving it!

Hell, he knew Darla needed a guy in her bed, but this was pitiful, crawling back to her ‘daddy’ and dressing up in Catholic school girl outfits to get the old codger’s motor revving. Thank god he’d come to his senses and was able to save her from another few centuries of ‘hide the wrinkly weenie’ with her sire. He kicked the sack in front of him and smirked at the whimpers that erupted from it. If this didn’t get Darla back in his bed then nothing would.

“I’m not brooding!” He really hated it when people said that. He really did wonder if it was the hairstyle that made vamps and people alike think he was brooding. He made a mental note to eat a stylist or two and get them to change his look.

The Master’s red eyes filled with anger and he reached out and smacked the taller vampire across the face. “I maybe stuck here but that doesn’t mean you can be disrespectful. Remember your place, Childe.” He glared at the upstart.

“Ohh, boys, stop fighting and play nice.” Her saccharine sweet voice belied the pure evil within her; Darla skipped down the incline and slithered to halt in front of her Master and her darling boy. Her short plaid skirt twirled as she spun on her heel and sniffed the air. “Angelus, is that what I think it is?” She pointed at the now writhing sack and clapped her hands in excitement.

“Whatever it is, he won’t let me eat them. You would think he would remember that I am the Master and should be the recipient of gifts, not you,” the Elder Vampire muttered, ignoring the sharp angry glance Darla shot him. Angelus smirked. Score one for him, the old bastard was going to push Darla back into his bed and onto his cock at this rate.

“Only the best for you, Darla.” He consciously lapsed into the thick Irish brogue of his human years, the same one that had enchanted her all those years ago. There was no harm in bringing out the big guns. He needed her to forgive him for the soul, not that it was really his fault; she was the one thing that could wipe the memory of the pathetic fumble in the dark with the cheerleader from Hell. God, he wanted to exfoliate till he bled. The pathetic gratitude that her comforting arms had evoked in his souled self had sickened him but it had achieved an end to the unloving hell of being ensouled. The silly girl had managed to cheer up Angel so much by paying attention to him and offering comfort that he’d gotten a happy and the soul was now taking a dirt nap. And for that she had to die; he was pissed off his mind games hadn’t worked so far. He was getting bored with killing her family and friends. He grinned, wondering when she was going to tell the Slayer that little gem. The mental torture he’d inflicted on Cordelia so far should’ve tipped her into loonsville; instead she’d hardened and withdrawn. She was no fun and he was hoping that if he won Darla back to his side then the two of them could play with the vacuous brunette for a while before killing her. She needed to die—soon. He didn’t want anything reminding him of how he came back and the sloppy screw that she had been was definitely not one to remember if he could help it!

“Angelus, are they really for me?” Darla clapped her hands excitedly.

Angelus looked down at the three tearstained faces peering up at him and shrugged casually. “I know how you like triplets and the fresher the better.” He looked down at the babies and laughed.

“How ever did you find them? They are so rare!” she exclaimed and snatched up one small frail body. He screamed and kicked his little legs; the two year old boy shook his head and began to sob loudly. His blond curls matted on one side where he’d been curled up asleep in this crib..

“Only the best for you my, darling.” Angelus smirked over at the now fuming Master and bent down and gathered the two big eyed girls and cooed mockingly at them. He refrained from adding that all he’d had to do was break into the local hospital records and search there-- it’d taken minutes. But who was he to dissuade her from thinking he’d been walking the streets searching for the triple treat? If it got him back in her good books and between her legs, who was he to grumble?

“I just don’t know where to start. Smallest one first or the boy, he just smells so delicious.” Darla giggled and caught hold of the sleep-matted curls and held him still. Her face morphed and her fangs glinted sharply in the firelight. “Oh my darling boy, you really do know how to spoil a girl,” she lisped girlishly as she ran her fangs over his soft fat cheek and lapped at the blood that welled from the teeny scratches.

The childish screams lasted through the night as the vampiress and her newly returned consort rebonded in an orgy of blood and fucking that made the Master want to weep. ‘It’s not fair. She’s mine! I trained her to do that trick with her tongue and he gets the benefit?’ Her stamina for sex and death was truly outstanding, and yet again he’d lost her to the potato farmer’s son. As much as he enjoyed hearing the three little piggies squeal as his daughter sucked the marrow from their fingers and toes, he could’ve done without the visual of the great hairy arse of her childe bobbing up and down. .

He really hated losing her – again. No one blew him better than his sweet Darla, not even the recently dusted Luke.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake up.” She flicked the top of the bottle and sprayed holy water over what had once been her dad’s face. The sound of burning flesh filled the air, joining the screams that echoed through the cellar. The familiar features distorted as he vamped out in pain. Cordelia stared impassively at the demon’s tortured screams, the part of her that had cared for her parents had died the moment she’d staked her mom. Now all that was left was the thing that had taken over her daddy. She tapped her fingernails on the file she held and waited for him to stop howling.

“Bitch, I should’ve forced your mother to abort you!” the demon snarled. Cordelia suppressed the agony that shot through her due to his hateful words and the growled at the beast wearing her father’s face.

“Whatever. Now be a good vampy and sign these.” Cordelia held out a pen and waited for the chained vampire to take it. “Do it and I’ll let you have some blood.” She dropped the papers at his feet. It had taken the two weeks since Angelus had turned her parents to break him enough to agree to sign over all he owned, even the hidden accounts that the IRS would’ve loved to know about. Cordelia had liquidated those and put the cash into the safe in the study. This was the last set and then she could stake him and claim the estate for herself. With the money her parents had she would be in a secure financial position. No distractions for her hunting Angelus.

“Here, you cold bitch, that’s the last of it. Now give me my bloo—” He was dust before he could even blink.

“Thanks.”

Cordelia stood and walked out without a backward glance. She managed to climb the stairs before she collapsed in a heap and began to sob. She was finally able to mourn her parents, finally able to let part of her feel again. It hurt so much, but it reminded her she was still alive and nearly ready to kill the bastard that was trying to drive her nuts.

He would fail.

Cordelia Chase was nothing if not strong. She would survive and succeed.

Angelus was in for a world of hurt.