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...

Author’s Note: Coherence brought my beta Spikeslovebite *huggles*

***

Angel observed the familiar sight of the Watcher polishing his glasses. The red head, Willow, was helping Giles research a new prophecy. He was never sure why she and that annoying dark-haired boy had been allowed the freedom to assist the Watcher, or why they would even want to. It could have been loyalty after Giles had saved them from becoming vamp toys, or perhaps it was the thrill of saving the world. Either way, he wasn’t sure that he liked them being so involved.

They should never have been allowed to participate; those two laughing children. They were always joking with the librarian and computer teacher, acting as if they were born to the roles of researcher and demon bait. It wasn’t right.

Hadn’t the Council taught Giles that a Watcher - much like his Slayer - worked alone? To be effective, a Watcher should always be on the outside, observing and recording the events that took place, never actively participating. He reported to and requested information from the Council in London; yet on the front lines they led a solitarily existence. Giles recklessly ignored the Council’s teachings and insisted on becoming involved with this rag-tag group of children.

‘Buffy wouldn’t have needed them; she would have been perfect on her own…’ Angel thought self-righteously.

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

Kendra remained standoffish with the small group. She didn’t particularly care for any of them. She missed the rigid rules of the Council and the simple dictates of her existence. It was supposed to be simple; her Watcher would instruct her and she would slay. Her life might be brutal and short, but she served a higher purpose and was a tool for good. The Watcher’s Council was always clear, and their singular devotion to her calling was a comfort which brought her peace of mind.

Thus her arrival in Sunnydale was quite disconcerting and left her decidedly out of sorts. The Watcher insisted that she allow civilians and demons alike to assist her with research and patrolling. Although she disapproved of the civilians and was scandalized by the vampire, she was left with no choice.

The irony of the situation was not lost on her. The only person who seemed to agree with her protests and her conclusions was the demon. He alone understood that she was supposed to be fighting against the forces of evil and not socializing over donuts.

She would accept their help for now, including the demon. She would not, however, trust the demon or allow the civilians to assist more then the Watcher demanded. She had faith in her skills and she understood, even if others conveniently forgot, that in the end, a slayer always fought alone.


Perhaps even more disgusting to her than allowing the souled vampire to live was obeying the watcher’s demands that she not engage the other master vampire or the former slayer in combat. The watcher had a weakness for the vampire who used to be a Slayer. In Kendra’s opinion, he allowed her to live for no other reason but guilt.

Both were soulless killers, yet had somehow entered into an uneasy truce with the watcher. Kendra was convinced that the demons only honored the agreement because they preferred her alive; a known slayer they could control rather then an unknown attack from the Council.

Angry at the conflicting arguments running though her head and unable to ignore their inane chatter any longer, she turned and grabbed Mr. Pointy. It was time to patrol.

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

Angel slipped out of the library, following the young Slayer.

He would have been ecstatic to patrol with Buffy. He had been in love with her from the first moment he saw her at Hemery. She had radiated innocence and beauty, strength and power. He had known from first glance that she would be a worthy mate and that he would strive to be her everything.

She was to be his reward, his salvation, his everything.

And now she was a creature of the night. She hunted her prey, killed without remorse, and shackled him in chains, riding him until his passed out. She was his darkness and he feared she would be his downfall. He couldn’t resist her. She was like a drug he had carelessly assumed that he could quit at any time.

Now he knew better. She was his child’s mate. She would never be his; and his demon roared with pain.

So, once again, he trailed the current slayer, fulfilling the wishes of the Powers That Be and following the dictates of her Watcher, allowing Giles to guide him towards redemption. A redemption that Angel wasn’t even sure he wanted or desired anymore.

Alone. Always alone.

Lost in his thoughts, he watched the Slayer dust a vampire and then move on to confront another, her movements as clean and precise as those of a robot.

He wondered what Buffy would do to him tonight…

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

Spike slid into game face, one elongated fang gently slicing into Buffy’s clit, drawing blood and making the young vampire even wetter. Arching her back, she pressed harder into him. His tongue teased and taunted her. Desperately she begged, cried and demanded her satisfaction.

She loved it when Spike tasted her. His ministrations, alternating between tongue fucking her and teasing her clit, drove her to almost unbearable heights. He was constantly pushing her boundaries, driving her insane with lust and creating a desire to do anything and everything he demanded, as long as he would bring her the release she craved.

Tonight, he had introduced her to the delights of a tongue ring. The feel of the cold metal hitting her clit, flicking back and forth, was driving her to new peaks. She wouldn’t believe the difference the small bar made.

She arched on the verge of another orgasm, and then he slowed. He loved to play this game, but she was beyond the realm of need. She was desperate.

Unable to take any more of the game, Buffy vamped and with a show of speed flipped Spike unto his back. She struck quickly, sinking her teeth into his neck as she plunged herself down on his erect cock.

Recklessly, she took him, pumping up and down, faster and faster. Riding him furiously, roughly, over and over again. Her only thought was of release and her desire worked to increase the need of her mate.

Spike tried to remain still, tried to refrain from any assistance in his taking. She was glorious, glowing and grinning wickedly. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for long.

“Sire,” she purred, “I was a very bad girl today.” She began to describe in detail what she had done to one of her victims, relating the man’s sobbing confession and how she had slowly removed the offending parts of his body.

Delicious images of torture ran through Spike’s head as Buffy leaned down and whispered one more fact into his ear; how she had lured the man with a school girl costume, and how if he was really good, she would wear it for him.

Losing control, Spike thrust his hips up and slammed into Buffy, the violent thrust pushed them over the edge. Their eyes glowed golden with passion, control was lost, and they spiraled into a sensual world of completion.

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.

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.

Buffy moaned as Spike's fangs penetrated her neck. She loved the sensation of her sire biting her, claiming her in a way he would allow no other vampire to do. She was his to take, his to bite, his to command. Yet, he would never use her, abuse her like so many would have. He wanted her love, her admittance of need, given to him freely and never taken by force. She loved him more for his actions, craved his touch, his fangs, his cock - she needed him as an addict needed a drug. Needed to be taken, tasted, caressed; she needed to be bitten.

Less then an hour to go and they were alone. Their toy had left to play war games with the Watcher and no one else would come by. No one trusted them, only feared them. They were the Masters of Sunnydale and this they would remain. Family loyalties only counted when the family was loyal to you to begin with. She had her sire - no one else mattered, not great grandmum, or any family further up the chain. She was Spike's only childe and until she decided on when she would make one of her own, it would be just the two of them. That was if she would ever make one, Spike thought her too young; she just wasn't sure she wanted to share. Sharing her toys made her cranky. Very cranky.

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

Angel sat stiffly in the library. He was still sore from the abuses, and pleasures, that his body had suffered. He had feared that they would turn him down, refuse him the help that he needed to bring down the master. Refuse him, even as they teased his body, and ate away at his soul. Yet, they agreed to assist him, to help him in this fight and he was grateful.

So why was the Watcher giving him such a difficult time regarding this plan. Did he really not understand that this was the only option that would save his slayer’s continued existence? Did he not realize that his life, his friends, his slayer’s life had always been subject to the whims of the vampires who ruled this town. Spike had killed three slayers and Buffy was a slayer turned vampire. Did Giles honestly believe that any mere human, slayer or not, would be able to fight off the Master, even if one disregarded the presence of the Anointed One or Darla.

The idea that the Slayer could win without aid was ridiculous but the thought of Giles or his friends as backup, suppressing a laugh at the visual image he turning to look at Giles, “You're way outta your league, Rupert. The Master'll kill you before you can even breathe. If you're lucky.”

Giles shook his head; he knew the vampire was correct. How many times had Angel helped them, how many times had the vampire gave them sound advice and fought on their side? Angel’s quest for redemption had guided him to their side and he had earned their trust.

Giles sighed, he had already agreed to an uneasy truce before, and this could truly be his Slayer's only hope. Slowly he nodded, "Kendra will be here soon, then you can meet up with Spike and Buffy."

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

Kendra and Angel made their way to the Master's lair. She had wanted to refuse their help, to tell the souled one to keep his childe and the former slayer away. That she was The Slayer and she needed no one's help, only her weapon. But she had overhead the prophecy, the Watcher and Vampire had not noticed her presence. And she didn't want
to die. Accepting help was wrong. It was unnatural, but she was only fifteen. She knew she would have a short life, but was one more year too much to ask?

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

Buffy chose her clothes carefully. First impressions were extremely important. After all how many times did you get to meet your great-great grandsire and kill him all on the same day? The proper clothes would be vital to the overall impression. Finally she located a pair of blood red leather pants and a black spaghetti tank; deadly, yet sexy. It was perfect!

Angel had left an hour ago to meet the watcher and plan out their attack. Personally she was more of a, "fight, then fuck on their ashes" rather than a "well planned strategy", sort of girl. Apparently, the ‘White Hats” thought that lacked finesse. Was she the only one who knew how to have any fun?

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

Spike watched as his mate dressed, she was the most beautiful demon he had ever seen. She was everything a vampire should be: powerful, deadly, and beautiful. The outfit she had chosen made his skin crawl with desire and his cock harden painfully. Skin tight pants with a spaghetti string top; she looked delicious and quite edible. But what really got to him was the boots. Knee high leather boots with heels that made you want to lick them. They changed her outfit from hot and steamy to eminently fuckable and created an uncontrollable urge for him to say 'yes mistress'.

As she nodded, they slipped out the door. It was prophecy time. They would meet Angel and the Slayer and fulfill their promise. They would kill the Master before he escaped his prison.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Angel spotted the Anointed One first. He was pulled in that direction by a faint family tug; knowing as his steps quickened that they should slow down and wait for their backup. Buffy and Spike should be there shortly, but the Slayer matched his pace and then quickened her steps. Fear and apprehension were rolling off of her, flooding his senses, taunting his demon.

The young vampire, Colin, broke through Angel’s thoughts and turned his steady gaze towards Kendra, “Help me.”

Kendra propelled herself forward. Unable to stop herself she stretched her hand out to the innocent looking boy, “It’s okay. I know who you are.”

Clasping hands, Colin and Kendra walked towards the Master’s lair. Angel followed a few steps behind. Confused about their destination, he wondered why they were not waiting. He couldn’t stop the Slayer from her mission, but he did wonder about her strange acceptance and calm.

In front of the entrance the young vampire nodded his head before turning to walk away. Angel hesitated; he could feel Buffy and Spike coming closer, the younger vampires’ signatures growing stronger through their bonds. Yet, he couldn’t wait. Kendra had already descended into the Masters lair.

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

Berating himself for hesitating, Angel began to descend into the Master’s lair. His path unsure, he headed towards the feel of family. The flickering of candlelight created shadows in the wall and lost in thoughts he never noticed the presence of Darla until the blow landed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Spike and Buffy cut through the cemetery, following their instincts and the draw of family. Anticipation coursed through their veins, heightening their senses. They could feel the danger in the air, the crackle of destiny, of fate, of prophecy.

The entrance taunted them, sparkled with candlelight, hinting of danger and sensual pleasures; the family lair. They would be welcome there, the proper court of the head of the Order, head of the family line. They would increase his power and could rule at his side.

Yet they were no one’s underlings. It was time to take back their town. The order would bow to them.

Spike heard the sounds of the fight before he found them. Angel was surrounded by a group of vampires, led by the blond bitch Darla. The older vampire was winning, beating down Angel as he struggled against his sire.

Spike raced forward entering the fight. He began to dust the minions, weeding out the weak and quickly making the numbers more even.

As he nodded to Buffy, she turned to hunt for the Slayer and Master. The boys could handle this group; she wanted to find the main attraction.

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

Kendra was struggling against the Master. Breaking away from his grip, she started to run; only to stop in shock when Buffy stepped out of the shadows.

“It’s okay Kendra, I’m here.” Buffy caught her eye, her voice tantalizingly low, captivating her, even though Buffy herself had no thrall.

“I’m here, we can take him, destroy him; destroy the monster forever. We are Slayers, sisters; we can stop him… together.”

Kendra hesitated; there was something about Buffy that called to her. Made her want to believe, even if she was a vampire, she had been a Slayer. She was the only one who knew what it felt like. Inspired she turned around. She would trust Buffy, just this once.

Kendra and Buffy began to dance around the Master. Roundhouse kicks flew, making contact, knocking him back further and further into his chamber. The Master was powerful, but the dual assault of the Slayers was wearing him out. Stumbling he fell down, and looked up in astonishment at the blond vampire.

She smiled, and so soft that only a vampire could hear, she whispered to him, “Now.”

Stepping back, Kendra rushed for, ready to create the killing blow when the Master reached up and yanked her down.

“You tried. It was noble of you. Did you really think my family would fight against me? You heard the prophecy that I was about to break free and you came to stop me. But prophecies are tricky creatures. They don't tell you everything.”

Whispering to Kendra, “You're the one that sets me free! If you hadn't come, I couldn't go. Think about that!”

The Master bit into Kendra’s neck, beginning to drain her. His strength depleted, him needing the Slayer blood to recuperate from the fight.

Dropping Kendra like a rag doll, he turned to Buffy, “Why the game my dear girl? Not that I don’t enjoy …”

The rest of the sentence was lost as Buffy drove a stake through his heart. His age made his destruction slow, he seemed to fade away, his expression one of shock and betrayal.

Buffy turned to the fallen Slayer, bending down to check on her. Closing the now vacant eyes, she whispered, “Thank you for your assistance; but no one plays with my toys.”

~Fini

Okay taking requests, demands, and bribes for sequels. Although knowing my luck I will actually get flames and death threats. *Shrugs*, but since this was an episode twist I am leaving it here. If you like – please review and let me know. Also let me know what other episodes you would like me to twist or what you are dying to find out about. *hugs* Dialogue was from prophecy girl.