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.