Chapter Four
Prophecy

Author’s note: Craving reviews to help me write the last chapter and murder the writers block – please let me know what you think. This chapter has heavy Angel in it, but I did that to help set the scene for what I am planning to write next, which will be more spuffy-centric.

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

Morning arose too fast for the stunned Giles. He had spent the night drinking, unable to venture home to face Kendra, knowing that his second slayer was fated to die at the hands of the Master. Knowing that today could be the last day she lived, knowing that he would fail again. Could anyone defeat a prophecy?

With that last thought in mind, Giles stumbled out of the library. He didn’t care if he was supposed to be in the library today, he had a vampire to see.

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

Angel had been shocked at the Watcher’s state of inebriation when he showed up at the apartment. It was only fitting that the Watcher had been equally shocked at Angel’s condition. Having only left the mansion and his family a few hours ago, the bruises, the various cuts and prominent fang marks that had yet to fade or heal. He tried not to look guilty at the Watcher’s shocked assumption that he had suffered a vampire attack. In its own way, he had been attacked. Buffy had been not pleased with his refusal to submit to her demands that he stay with his family. She had demanded his full obedience and once again he disobeyed her and left. The beatings were getting more brutal, the pain beginning to outweigh the pleasure. Yet he couldn’t stay away. He had no illusions that any ending would not be good.

Angel watched as Giles begged, his famous English stoicism deserting him in the face of a prophecy he didn’t know how to fight. Would he, could he, save his slayer? Could he avoid watching another beautiful girl die, another slayer fallen to the mouth of hell and the fate of the warriors who fought?

Angel was shaken. What did redemption mean if he saw another girl die? If he stood by once again, watching as another girl met her fate? No one had ever guessed that when he fled his last fight with Spike, he had not gone far. That he had watched the blonde slayer fight Spike, watched as they danced, as they quipped, and as Spike drained the life out of her. Could he have made a difference then, helping instead of running away? He had seen it all and yet done nothing. Too afraid to engage in combat; too new to the world of redemption to understand that warriors always fight, even family, despite all odds. It was a guilt he would always live with. Could he be redeemed by fighting for another slayer? Could he save her from the Master? If he died would it be penance for all those he refused to help? In the end, would it even matter?

Nodding at the watcher, he turned and headed towards the tunnel entrance near his apartment. He would not be able to take Darla and the Master on by his self, but maybe the younger vampires would be willing to help. What could it hurt to ask?

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

Buffy stalked through the mansion, her golden eyes flashing with anger and her supple body trembling with a desire to inflict pain. Her grand-sire hung in chains, his body in tatters, blood coursing down his entire frame, there would be no infliction of pleasure, not for what he had dared to inquire.

It had been bad enough when Kendra had shown up. Weeks after Buffy was turned the new girl had shown up, pointy stick in hand. She had been no match for either Buffy or Spike, but they had decided to leave her alive. Kendra was good, dutiful …boring. She was easy to ignore and Angel had found his way to his family, albeit in chains, but he was theirs. Was it too much to hope that Angel would grow tired of his mission, of his little slayer and would return to where he belonged, on his knees in front of her?

Yet every night since the arrival of the new girl it was the same. She wanted Angel’s full submission, full admittance that he was family and his agreement that he would stay. She had beaten him, fucked him and taunted him with every desire that he denied he had. Yet he resisted joining his family permanently. Yes he came to her every night, but not before he went to them; the ‘White Hats’. The slayer Kendra and her arrogant watcher; a watcher who belonged to her.

Kendra had no rights to her family: no rights to be protected by her grand-sire, no rights to be instructed by her watcher, no rights to those that would have been her friends, could have been in another time.

A wicked smile played across her face. Hadn’t anyone ever told the young Slayer that it wasn’t nice to play with another’s toys?

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

Spike sat back, amused at his childe’s antics and wondered if she would be getting bored anytime soon.

He wasn’t sure why Buffy had agreed to finally help out Angel. He had his suspicions. Although if he was right, his sire would not be pleased. Buffy had never quite gotten on board with the whole, “not killing the Slayer” truce. He had been the one insisting on it, not wanting to deal with an irate slayer, watcher and Council all while trying to properly instruct his childe on the ‘dos and don’ts’ of vampiric lifestyles.

Besides, this was the hell mouth. The Council would probably just send another annoying bint to take over once Kendra was dead, so what would be the point? Change was never good; they would have to constantly be showing the new slayer who was best. Better to just leave it alone. Of course Buffy was so territorial it was absolutely adorable, you would think she was still the slayer.

The idea that the Master would rise, however, was bloody annoying. That actually would cause some problems for him. The head of the order always seemed to have grandiose plans for opening the hell mouth and ending the world. He rather liked the world as it was – happy meals on legs and Angel in chains.

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

Buffy was mesmerized by the sight and smell of Angel’s blood. There was a reason she preferred her small silver knife to any other toy she owned. The delicate sensations of cutting into flesh – watching the drops of red rise to the surface and coat his skin like paint. The artistry of his body made a perfect canvas. She could spend hours detailing each pattern into his skin, marking him, marring his skin as his soul marred his demon.

Sometimes she would take him, or Spike would fuck him, sometimes they were together and at others they would only allow him to watch as they demonstrated their devotion to each other. She knew that Angel resented the fact that she had mated with his childe. That had been a delicious form of torture in and of itself. Letting him know, letting him watch as she declared to all vampires that she would belong to no other. She was Spike’s and he was hers, until one of them was dust, and soon after the other would follow.

She wanted tonight to be special. When the sun went down they would go and fight the Master, but until then they were together, they were family.

Stepping back she studied her artwork. He was beautiful, blood running down his chest, and his legs. Head bowed as if he was defeated. His cock; long, uncut and straining out from the rest of his body, begging for attention, to be touched, tasted, taken, had.

Giving in to the temptation she decided to taste him. The combination or arousal and blood made her moan with desire. Looking up she signaled Spike with her eyes. She had to have them now. Knowing that the upcoming fight could change everything between them, she gifted him with one small pleasure. She would take him tonight, while her Sire took her. If he shut his eyes, he could pretend, at least for a little while, that she was all his. A slow pace was set. Spike would thrust into her as she pushed back onto him. Spike’s hands caressing her, pulling her back, pushing her forward, and making her moan as she enjoyed the sensation of being completely filled.

They went on for hours. A slow and steady pace, gentle and loving. For this one time they would be a family; they would be whole, and Angel could pretend that this was what he’d always wanted. For the afternoon, Buffy would be his and he would be theirs.