Chapter Three
History

Kendra twirled the stake and thought about the last few months that she had been living in Sunnydale. She performed her duty every night. Dusting vamps and trying to refrain from the associations that drained the others. Their pain made them reckless and their belief that vampires would keep their promises would eventually be the death of them.

They trusted the souled vampire. He had been the one to come and tell Giles that his Slayer was dead; killed on her first night on the hell mouth. Giles had been rightfully suspicious of the vampire, until a phone call from the Council’s mystics confirmed both the presence of a soul, and the death and subsequent turning of the Slayer.

Kendra was on the next plane to England.

The Council had wanted to evaluate her before her assignment at the hell mouth to make sure she was a suitable candidate for slaying. By the time she arrived in California, she had been too late to save Jessie, or to prevent the vamping of several high school students the night of the Harvest. She knew that the dark-haired boy held it against her, another reason she would never fit in.

Angel killed the vessel and the Master had been restrained. She often wondered if he had acted out of guilt for some reason, his desire to help seemed more forced then genuine.

Kendra arrived to a group who seemed to be broken. For every death they blamed themselves. The cheerleader who died of her burns, the car accident which took another teacher and cheerleader. The deaths of two science teachers, one killed presumably by a demon, the other at the hand of William the Bloody.

They greeted her arrival with relief and celebration. Knowing that they could relax, just a bit, because the Slayer was there; that she would hold back the forces of darkness.

Slowly they rebuilt themselves as a coherent group. Yet she noticed the shift. No longer was Jessie dead because they had failed him; or the cheerleaders because they couldn’t determine the culprit. They were dead because she was late, because she was in England, because she was not the blonde who they had known for only a day. They were dead because she was Kendra.

And she knew why Slayers should always work alone.

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

Angel watched as Kendra slipped into the front door of Giles house. He had done his duty for the night. The Slayer was safe in her home and she would be able to battle again on the morrow. He didn’t understand why he had to follow her, or how this life would lead to his redemption. He didn’t know why he should want redemption or why he needed anything other then the oblivion he would find in his lovers arms.

He hated himself; hated his needs, his desires. He remembered hope. The feeling he first had when he watched a young and tan Buffy sitting on the steps of Hemery; a lollipop twirling in her mouth and the sun shining of her golden hair. He had been instantly hard, wanting to take her, taste her, and redeem himself in between her thighs.

Whistler hinted that she would be his, his for the taking; but only if he was a Champion of the Light. So he strove to remake himself, to be worthy, to be the warrior that they needed. And yet she was taken away.

He could never posses her now. She would always be loyal first to Spike and the darkness in which they dwelled.

Would, no … could, redemption bring her back to him? Was this a test by the Powers before they corrected their wrongs?

Angel’s arousal grew as he fantasized about how Buffy could be brought back to him, brought back into the light, into his arms. How she would weep and beg his forgiveness for all the acts she had committed while mated to Spike. How she would have her own redemption to strive for, how she would be redeemed; on her knees, where she belonged.

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

Spike knew his sire was heading towards the mansion. He could sense the familial bond growing stronger with each step the older vampire took. He would be here soon.

Spike had no illusions in this relationship. He knew his sire believed that he wanted an exclusive relationship with Buffy. That he wanted her to be his princess, to dote on his every word and cater to every need. To strive for the light; while sulking in the shadows.

Spike always knew his sire better then Angel knew himself, but that wasn’t hard.

Angel thought he wanted the light; however, any woman who tried to live up to Angel’s expectations would find herself alone and abandoned. He would protect her at all costs, including from himself, from his demon and their true desires. He would never be content with a woman who he could dominate. His demon was too strong and his tastes to dark.

The truth was easy to see; all one had to do was examine the Order. Drusilla had been everything that Angel thought he wanted. Dragged cruelly away from her God she had refocused everything on her “Daddy”. Every whim was met, every desire was explored. She would do anything, everything for him; yet he abandoned her, without a thought, to a world that she didn’t understand.

Darla, however, was a different story. She ruled Angel with sex, desire and pain. He could never be enough for her; being punished for every infraction and fucked every way known to demon. Under Darla’s sharp heels, Angel bled; and he could never get enough.

Angel never left Darla, he was sent away. Punished for being imperfect; for being the bitch she always knew he was. It was only then that their bond started to fade. If Angel ever turned on Darla it would be because she turned him out, not because she was evil, no matter what he thought he believed.

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

Kendra slipped out of the house and began her second patrol. She hated when the vampire followed her, always trying to pretend he wasn’t there. She couldn’t believe he never noticed that she always patrolled twice. Once with him following, and once after he left for the night.

Her watcher was never home this early. He would be researching prophecies and mystical occurrences in the library until three a.m. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it at home, or that the answers he found would be that important, her watcher just didn’t care. Coming home would mean he had to acknowledge that she was alive. That his second slayer has been successful, where as the beautiful blonde gave it up on the first night. It wasn’t that he even knew his first slayer. It was just that she had existed at all, and her death was a constant reminder of his failure.

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

Angel’s pace slowed. Now that he was approaching the mansion, he wasn’t sure if he should continue. He should be stronger than this. He should be able to resist his family, resist the urge to go to them, to be with them, to be at their mercy. He should be strong, no - he could be strong.

Stopping he began to turn to leave. Yet, he should really tell them that he was done, tell them to leave this town. To leave him to his Slayer and his redemption, to leave him to his soul and his sanity; he really should tell them that.

And he continued on his way to the mansion. He would be strong.

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

Buffy was angry. When would Angel learn that he was theirs? He belonged to his family, to the vampires and the darkness. He was their toy, their playmate, theirs to torment and theirs to fuck.

Tonight he would have to be punished, to be taught his place. He was beneath them, his soul corrupted him from his place in the darkness. He should know that he could never escape them, never be free, and never leave them – unless they allowed him to walk away.

Furiously her eyes flashed a golden hue as she struggled to maintain her human face; knowing that it would bring him the most pain, the most suffering, and the most pleasure.

Buffy smiled cruelly, she was glad that she had decided to change into the Catholic school girl costume for tonight’s adventures. She knew that was how Angel wanted her. He had her on a fucking pedestal, thinking she could be redeemed. She knew the truth he didn’t want to admit. That she had kept her soul. She just didn’t care. Demons came in all sorts of shapes – and the Council consisted of those demons of the worst kind. They liked to play with people’s lives, to inflict their rules on their Slayers but refused to actually do anything helpful. They may have been human, but they had less humanity than the scum she cleaned off the street. The only one she could tolerate was Giles. She had seen him comfort her mom, and for that he would be spared.

Buffy laughed softly at Angel’s predicament; once again in chains, once again erect.

Sitting on a table she swung her legs, allowing the briefest glimpse of her white cotton school-girl panties to show with each winsome kick.. Angel was trying not to watch. Spike was smirking. Shooting a coy look at her sire, she smiled. He always knew what she wanted.

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

Spike smirked. He loved this game; the innocent, fresh look. She gasped as he sauntered up to her. Protested her innocence, her outfit screaming ‘innocent virgin’; he was the corrupter, the big bad, he was evil… and she loved it.

He touched her softly, laughing as she gasped. Looking shocked yet aroused. An innocent flush covered her cheeks, she played pure sunshine very well.

Spike pushed her down, maneuvering her so that Angel would have an unobstructed view of his tongue bringing her pleasure. She gasped as he made contact. Moaning as his tongue found her clit, playing with it gently. Biting it, and teasing her with his slow ministrations.

He groaned as he felt her wetness. She loved this game. Torturing Angel with what he couldn’t have – he could be her slave, but never the master.

Slowly he increased his speed, sucking and biting. Faster and faster as she moaned with desire, began to beg him for more, plead with him to take her, to mark her as his own.

Angel moaned as he watched them, wanting them, needing them, but refusing to ask.

He tired to close his eyes, but found himself unable. He had to watch, jealous as Spike drew back and plunged his cock into Buffy’s wetness. He wanted them. But he never would admit it. He needed them, needed them to feel alive.

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

Lost in desire, Angel didn’t notice as the ground began to tremble.

Kendra lost her footing as a nearby gravestone toppled.

Giles looked up from his text, shocked at the prophecy he uncovered.

Underground, the Master laughed with delight.