Author's Note: I normally don't ask but am depressed - please review if you like!

You did see the dark fic - B/S/A bloodplay and those type warnings - plus you read Welcome to Hell right? Okay then...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Angel snuck away from the mansion, his cock throbbing. Every inch of his body ached. It screamed with pain and burned with desire. He didn’t know why he kept going back, yet he couldn’t resist.

He was supposed to be a warrior of the light, fighter for good. Yet he couldn’t resist the lure of his family or the deadly delights found between their silky thighs.

Every night was the same, with only creative differences and new positions. He would go to mansion, intent on telling Spike and Buffy that he couldn’t do this anymore. That he was in control of his body and soul, and that they should leave before he had to dust them.

He would watch as Buffy’s red lips drew up into a lustful pout, secretly adoring the way she would shake her head, negating his words as Spike slid up next to him. He would wait, unmoving, until he felt the clank of heavy metal chains; his signal of forced submission. One then could he tell himself that he had no choice, that his family was stronger then him.

It always alternated. Some nights he would be whipped for his bad behavior and having a soul. Other nights he would be ridden into submission, his harsh cries ignored as he sobbed his denial of the demon, his family and his own dark and twisted desires.

Every night he discovered new carnal pleasures and every night he cried and pretended his resistance was more then a sham. Every night he went to them; to his beautiful family and each night he pretended that he was not selling off another piece of his soul.

Angel’s guttural moan filled the air as he staggered home.

Tonight Buffy had practiced cutting into him with a small silver dagger as Spike had taken him brutally, hard and fast. If he tried to escape his Childe then he slid into the blade. Buffy’s choice of punishments was a delicious dilemma; submit to the blade or submit to the fucking.

The only sounds heard in the mansion were those of flesh pounding flesh, his own guttural sobs, and her tinkling laugh. Yet when it was over, she was gentle.

The alternating brutality and gentleness was his undoing. After the abuse, Buffy had allowed him to hang there while she gently cleansed him with her tongue. Running the pink tip over each cut, gently sucking each drop and petting his head, telling him what a wonderful, beautiful grand-sire he was. The gentleness was worse then the brutality.

Before he could come from the delicious sensations of her tongue she had motioned for Spike to unchain him. With his freedom granted he wilted, unable to admit to himself that he wanted nothing more then to take his childe and punish him, to whip his grandchilde as she whipped him. To make them both bleed and feast upon their bodies.

He should be stronger/ He was a warrior of the light. He had to be.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As Angel moved further away from the mansion, Buffy pouted.

Each night was the same. Angel came demanding that they leave Sunnydale, then waiting to be shackled, his eyes begging to be taken, to be given what he could never ask for.

Each night they gave him what he desired, what he craved, what he stubbornly refused to ask for, but they knew he wanted.

The first time had been delicious. He had stood there, eyes furious as Spike had crossed the room. Buffy had refused to listen to his desperate pleas for freedom. She stood in front of him, laughing as Spike begun to fuck him.

She watched as Angel protested that he hadn’t come for this, watching while he demanded that his childe stop, laughing as the blood ran down his legs. It amused her to no end that Angel got harder and harder the longer he was fucked.

Buffy waited patiently, playing with herself, twisting her clit, and thrusting inside herself while watching the boys play. When Angel slid into game face she slid onto his cock. Wrapping her legs around Spike’s arms, their thrusts were beautifully choreographed. Every time Spike slammed into his sire, Angel would slam into her. The orgasms were intense and left all three spent.

Angel came back the next night. And every night since.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Spike watched as Buffy pouted. He loved that lip and would do anything to make her happy. He never thought he would feel this complete. When his dark princess dusted, he’d wanted nothing more then to take a walk into the sunlight. The only thing that had stopped him was his desire for revenge upon the one vampire who caused all his problems. When he had finally tracked his sire to Sunnydale, the plan was simple. Kill the bastard responsible for Dru’s demise, and then follow his love into hell.

Then he fought the slayer, and everything changed. Turning her had been the best decision he ever made. The slayer made a beautiful vampire. She was deadly, blessed with the iron control of a master vampire from first rising. Perhaps that could be attributed to the original slayer demon, or to the soul he suspected she still had.

She had risen with no desire to kill her family or the general populous. She was protective of her city, of her former classmates, and of the Watcher who she briefly met. She craved the fight and the blood of those she deemed evil, and only them.

Rapists, murderers and any Council member not pre-approved ended up as artistic representations of her pre-vampiric pain. Shortly after her death, the Council had sent a special ops team to dust her. She had sent them back a piece at a time for months. That is, until Travers stopped accepting any packages from California. He had no sense of humor.

Unable to tear his eyes off that beautiful pouting lip, Spike crossed the room and slid his arms around Buffy.

Sucking her lower lip into his mouth he moaned. She tasted delicious. There were still traces of Angel’s blood on her tongue and the taste of his sire and his childe combined made Spike instantly hard.

Hands sliding into Buffy’s hair, he pulled her head back, exposing her pale throat. Fangs sliced into her neck as he reaffirmed his status of sire, mate, and lover.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy knew this familiar ritual. After every encounter with Angel, Spike would take her, claim her, bite her, fuck her and demand her submission. It was delicious. She would be owned body, soul, and demon by her mate, her sire as he reaffirmed that she was his and his alone.

Angel was a playmate, Spike was home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

TBC...