Disclaimer: Pixies told me that I really don’t own Btvs, it’s sad but the Pixies, they don’t lie.

Author’s note: Thanks to the fab BTL for the beta job and the chapter title, when I serious was drawing yet another blank.
__________________________________________
Chapter 9: More than you Bargained for.

Buffy had fled Rome after her encounter with Spike. She didn’t want to be anywhere he was, not with her heart in anguish and his ability to so easily break it. She packed up Annette and headed back home, to England. It was the one place she was most comfortable and Reagan was there.

Upon entering her friend’s room, Buffy threw herself into her Reagan’s arms and began to sob, leaving the bewildered Annette standing in the doorway of the London Flat.

“What did he do now?” Reagan asked, soothingly, ever the good friend.

“It’s me!” wailed Buffy. “The things I let him do to me. Reagan, I feel so horrible!”

Reagan looked down at her friend with concern.

“What happened, Buffy?”

Buffy looked up, her tear stained face, puffy and red. “I seduced him and then he went back to her!”

“You had carnal relations with William the Bloody?” asked Reagan, for clarification. “And then he went back to his Sire?”

Buffy nodded. “I knew I couldn’t make him stay with me, but it hurts Reagan! Why can’t I make him see that I love him?” she whined.

Reagan gathered her friend up in her arms again, rocking Buffy as if she were a small child and not the vengeance demon she was.

“Because he was hurt himself. You hurt him Buffy. And now he’s fallen in love with his murderess. And someday, he’ll grow out of it, see that she doesn’t love him, and he will be looking for someone to soothe his weary heart. You’ll just have to wait for that day,” said Reagan wisely, brushing back Buffy‘s fallen hair.

“I don’t want to be in love with him anymore, Reagan,” Buffy whimpered.

“No!” said the Watcher, stunned. “Buffy, you need to love him, even if he never returns your love again, even if he forgets about you entirely. It is your love for him the keeps you human. You need it.”

Buffy looked up at her friend with awe. “Are you afraid of me Reagan?” she asked.

“Little bit, yes,” she admitted. “But then I always have been. You were the Slayer; now, you are a demon. But I know that you would never hurt me.”

“I love you Reagan.”

“I know, dear girl. I love you too. And that is why,” said Reagan, pushing her friend away and standing up, “that is why we are going to have tea, and discuss just how I am going to get you fitted for a bride’s maid’s dress for my wedding. The seamstress won’t like having to make another dress on such short notice. And you are going to live here, while you are in London. I will hear of no plans to live elsewhere,” she finished with a note of finality.

Buffy smiled up at her friend before wiping away the last of her tears.

“Will I get to meet this Mr. Arthur Price before the wedding?” asked Buffy.

“Most definitely.”
__________________________________________
“You want me to what?” asked Buffy perplexed.

“Do not look at me like I’ve grown another head, Buffy, it is merely an aesthetic change.”

Buffy fingered her blonde tresses lovingly. Her friend wanted her to change the colour.

“I think red would suit you very nicely. It is the height of fashion you know,” said the bride to be.

“Red?” gulped Buffy. “I can’t do red. I’m blonde, no hair colour changes.”

“Elizabeth Cecily Underwood!” barked Reagan. “The colour change is to protect you! Your vanity will just have to suffer through it.”

“But...”

“Spare me, please,” said Reagan. “I know all about his poems, how you were his blonde enchantress, but I’m sure that will give you little comfort when your blonde head has been cut off.”

Buffy paused for a moment. “Reagan, you are just a little bit frightening sometimes.”

Reagan smiled. “Glad to hear it. Now, hair, before I get really scary.”

Buffy took the bottle of hair dye that her friend offered and stole out to her room, ordering Annette to bring up lots of hot water. She looked at the bottle and grimaced. She loved her golden locks. To cover them up, it was heart wrenching, but she understood why Reagan wanted her to do this.

Reagan had a life, a life that was surrounded by the Watcher’s Council. Her friends, her fiancé, were all intimately connected with the very organization that attempted to kill them both. For Buffy it was simple to walk away with her new life as a demon, but for Reagan, who had not been presented with an option like that, she had retreated into the familiar. The Council.

The Council that still had a portrait of Elizabeth Underwood, Slayer 1877 - 1880 on its gallery wall.
__________________________________________
The newly red headed Vengeance Demon, sat sipping tea with a select group of Reagan’s female watcher friends in her flat. She’d been abruptly faced with Reagan’s weekly afternoon tea, and Reagan had demanded that she attend, the flat being too small to allow her to lurk about.

Reagan had sensed her friend’s fear and had given Buffy an encouraging smile. Buffy was promptly introduced as her friend Miss Anne Summers, an expert in Vampires and Demons, but wary of the Council since the questionable death of the last Slayer, Elizabeth Underwood, her cousin.

Buffy stared back at Reagan in wonder. Such a fanciful tale and so well constructed. Reagan had been planning this for a while now. She’d also gotten better at bending the truth, Buffy noted with a smirk.

Then the questions had started, what was Elizabeth Underwood like? Was she really murdered by the Council or by the demon D’Hoffryn like the Council claimed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy could see Reagan looking on, pleased with herself. Buffy didn’t know it then, but Reagan had set up another facet to her already complicated life.

“I should like you to meet the head of our Council, Mr. Bradford. I’m sure that he will find your information quite useful. The tragic loss of the late Slayer is truly criminal, if that is what indeed happened. Mr Giles’ tale of your cousin’s death seemed quite complete in it’s telling,” said one Mrs. Dashton, whose husband was also a Watcher.

Buffy masked her panic well. The idea of stepping foot into the Watcher’s Council, a building riddled with spells to indicate when demons set foot over the threshold, and where she had been kept paralysed for so long. An involuntary shudder racked her body.

“I...given my associations, I fear I would not be welcome or wanted. The building itself brings bad memories.”

The ladies nodded in understanding.

“Forgive me,” said Mrs. Dashton, “I merely am attempting to retain your council, Miss Summers. I would not wish to cause you stress.”

“Perhaps, Anne, this opportunity to do some good in a world so fraught with demons who would do it harm, is of more importance than enduring a few negative memories. I myself have reconciled with my father, an instrument of the crime committed on Miss Underwood,” said Reagan.

Buffy stared back at her friend.

“Reagan! When? After all that he did to you?” exclaimed Buffy.

“One cannot live without forgiveness Anne,” said Reagan with a pointed look.

The ladies in the room nodded.
__________________________________________
Within the week, Miss Anne Summers was established as a consultant in matters of a demon nature for the Council of Watchers. It astounded the Vengeance Demon to no end that Reagan had been planning to bring her back into the fold.

“Of course my goal is for them to make you a full fledged Watcher,” admitted Reagan over breakfast some days afterwards.

“You can’t be serious Reagan! I mean honestly, they are going to find out about your little scheme. I’m a demon, not a human and I still have my monthly quotas to make for D’Hoffryn. Anyanka will be wondering where I am.”

“But it will keep you from moping about William now won’t it. I miss you Buffy. I want you to stay in London and be my friend again. All these women that I have tea with, they aren’t half the friend you are and you’ve been a Vengeance Demon for three years now. I want my children to know their Aunty Buffy.”

Buffy smiled. “If it means that much to you Reagan, I shall try. But only for you and only until such time as I am found out, by the Council or by D’Hoffryn.”

“Excellent,” said Reagan. “Next we must make Annette stop calling you Erixel.”

“For the love of D’Hoffryn, you’ve saddled me with another name! I’m surprised my brain hasn’t collapsed under the pressure of it all. Elizabeth, Cecily, Underwood, Erixel, Anne, Summers.”

“And you are going to have to stop swearing to D’Hoffryn! Anne!” Reagan giggled.
__________________________________________
It was decided that Buffy should take over Reagan’s flat after her friend had married.

In Mr. Arthur Price, Buffy was impressed. He did not possess that uptight nature that many of the Watchers had and he seemed to be open to change which was not surprising considering whom he was marrying.

Buffy was glad her friend had found a companion in life that was kind and intelligent. But still Reagan’s marriage was another step her friend was making that she could not take. Buffy would never marry, never have a family. Looking out over London’s rainy landscape, she wondered where her William was, what he was doing.

“What are you doing in London?” came Anyanka’s voice suddenly from behind her, the smoke dissipating from around her.

Buffy turned with a smile. “So you’ve found me. It’s good to see you Anyanka.” She gave Anyanka a brief hug.

“Erixel, my dear dear demon, I went looking for you after I had my fill of Dracula, and you weren’t in Rome like I thought you would be. William the Bloody is still in Rome, I checked. , so why aren’t you there?.”

“I found I had to come back to London, one of my human friends is getting married.” Buffy held her breath, waiting for her friend to call her on her partial lie and was relieved when she didn’t say anything and nodded her head.

“Very well. I shall stay here, nothing better to do. I filled my quota last night, an entire town of Transylvanian peasants, four hundred and three wishes, one night. I’m so tired. I was going to attend some party that Krevlin’s giving, but he’s always trying to swallow some limb whole and it’s always so disgusting,” Anyanka commented as she scrunched up her face.

“This from the demon that eviscerated the entire membership of a renowned men’s club in Frankfurt?”

“There’s a difference between causing gore and watching it for pleasure.”

Buffy nodded.

“So, shall I see you in some monstrosity of a dress or do they go burlap and blood larva like we do?”

“A dress Anyanka, these are humans.”

“There’s no accounting for taste.”

Buffy giggled at her friend. “You wanna go kill something?” she asked.

Anyanka shrugged. “Ok.”
__________________________________________
Spike rolled over in his sleep, a sleep that was being disturbed by the constant moaning from the threesome that was going on in the next room. His cock twitched to think of his black goddess all wet and ready but his ire immerged at the thought of who was pounding into her cold wet core. Angelus.

The moaning reached a pitch and one of them achieved orgasm. Reluctantly Spike’s hand drifted down his naked frame and took hold of his erect cock, begging for attention. Sliding his hand up and down over his hard prick, Spike’s thoughts did not return to the cheating Sire he was constantly trying to woo, but to the lithe body of the last woman he had had.

Buffy.

She had been so eager, so wet, and virginal just waiting for him. He had stayed a virgin himself all of four minutes when he had risen, Drusilla eagerly inciting him to take her then and there in the cemetery. Buffy had stayed virginal for three years waiting for him. It gave him a secret pleasure to know that she had saved herself for him, when the demon community had much more lax ideals when it came to sex.

Spike’s hand quickened its pace as he though of her lush breasts and how she had wanted him then and there. He remembered her hot wet folds, so different from Drusilla’s, so open and inviting, fitting him like a velvet glove and burning him to his core. And her taste. Spike licked his lips as he remembered the way her juices poured over his tongue as she came.

There was a moan from the next room followed by a piercing screech that could only have been from Darla. Spike paid the sound no mind, his thoughts more agreeably focused on the memory of his blonde enchantress.

In his mind, Spike imagined her calling his name in ecstasy, her nails digging into his pale flesh. His hand frantically keeping up with the rhythm of her thrusts in his mind. Spike jerked off the mattress as he shot his load into the sheet that covered him, the trio of vamps in the next room still going at it.

With disgust, Spike cleaned himself off and threw away the sheet. He had to find her or the image of her fucking him in his head would drive him insane.
__________________________________________
tbc...