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Summary: In an attempt to get over her grief for Spike, Buffy has cut herself off from her past life, and anything that reminds her of the vampire that's still in her heart.  But when a news story brings her attention to the battle in LA, the Slayer finds herself once again facing old betrayals and old faces.  Returning to LA she finds even newer betrayals and the possible death of her most secret hope.


Faded Hope

by bitchee

Chapter 24

Spike woke with a start. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was, never mind what he was doing there.

As his sleep addled brain cleared and his memories rushed back he couldn’t stop a delighted grin from forming. Looking down and seeing Buffy’s tousled head resting on his chest only made it wider.

His slayer… no…his mate, was curled up atop his body like a contented kitten. Complete with kitten like snores… and a small puddle pooling on his chest of what he was pretty sure had to be Buffy drool. Moments later she let out a less than ladylike snort. He shook his head in wonder.

That’s my girl. He thought smirking to himself. Shagged out and practically comatose an’ she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Running his hands lightly down her back, he was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was still unfortunately chained to the headboard of the bed. A bed, that from the faint scent that still lingered, had once belonged to his ponce of a grandsire.

His inner William wanted to be annoyed that the slayer had brought him to a place that obviously held memories for her of the souled poof. But his demon was too busy rejoicing in the fact that Buffy had not only shagged him nearly senseless in Angel’s bed but she’d also seemed fit to claim him in said bed.

Looking around the room now that he wasn’t so distracted, Spike came to the conclusion that it had been quite a while since Angel had last called the place home. The smell of explosives that he’d detected earlier, along with the dust and rubble led him to believe that wherever they were they would probably be safe from any unexpected guests for a while yet.

Smirking in satisfaction, he returned his attention to the blond that had yet to stir from her deep slumber.

Reluctant as he was to wake her Spike was desperate to get out of the remaining manacle. He had plans for miss Buffy Summers and having limited access to her parts was not part of them.

Lowering his head, he gently nuzzled the top of hers, while his free hand ran lightly along her back until it reached her thigh. Letting out a low purring growl he pulled her already bent leg upwards, carefully shifting his hips until her still damp curls were resting over the base of his rapidly hardening cock.

Another sharp wriggle and a small barely perceptible thrust and he was once again buried inside the woman he loved.

Buffy mumbled in her sleep as Spike started to thrust slowly and deeply into her heated depths. Seconds later she woke, a gasp of pleasure bursting from her lips as Spike deliberately rotated his hips in a way designed to push her over the edge.

He’d only intended to tease her really, but the moment he felt her warmth surround him all thoughts of getting unchained had been shelved, as the sheer wonder of their reunion hit home.

Buffy found herself frantically pushing back against her mate’s long slow thrusts, her brain still half-asleep while her body was awake and aching in a way that she never thought she would ever feel again.

Nearly lost again in their connection, she was beyond startled when her eyes fluttered open, only to see Cordelia Chase and the vaguely familiar figure of the man supporting her appear, seemingly out of thin air.

Spike, focused on Buffy and their combined pleasure found himself rudely pulled back to the present, her startled shriek the first indication he had that they were no longer alone.

“What the bleedin’ fuck…” he snarled as Buffy scrambled for the abandoned covers in an attempt to retain some of her flustered dignity.

“God my eyes! Gahh..” wailed Cordelia. She whipped her head around to bury it in Doyle’s chest even as she slapped him on the arm.

“Jeeze Doyle… warn a girl why don’t ya.” She complained, glaring up at the wide-eyed half demon.

When he failed to react apart from one rather large gulp and a slight hitch in his breathing she rolled her eyes and smacked him again, this time slightly harder.

“Doyle… Doyle…hey doofus”, she said in exasperation. “I just narrowly escaped being a vamp snack so you might wanna focus on something other than Buffy’s nakedness, unless you’re looking to get bitten as well.” Her words brought the memory of Angelus’s attack back to her and she shuddered at the thought of what had nearly happened.

Spike, who had been busy doing up his jeans and handing Buffy her clothes, took a careful step forward, deliberately placing himself between his mate and the two unexpected visitors.

“Right then. You… cheerleader… mind tellin’ me what the bloody hell you’re doing here? And while you’re at it how the bleedin’ fuck you even knew where we were?”

Scowling, Spike studied the two, the sheepish expressions on their faces only serving to piss him off even more than their unexpected appearance.

“Oi cheerleader” he snapped, his eyes widening as a couple of belated realizations hit. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead? And you mate… You’re that mick that worked for Peaches… also dead if I’m remeberin’ right.”

He frowned.

“So… anyone care to explain, before I start rippin’ heads off or what?”

**************

Angelus roared in both pain and fury.

Staggering forward he crashed into the counter of the darkened shop. Groping along the edge of it, the pain in his mouth and throat threatened to overwhelm him as he staggered towards the curtained off section that led to Tain’s living quarters.


By the time he found the small kitchen sink and managed to get his mouth under the faucet he felt like his tongue had melted into slag.

Gulping down cool mouthfuls off water, he cursed himself for being so fucking stupid.

He should have just snapped Cordelia’s neck and ripped Doyle’s heart out while he had the chance. Fuckin’ higher beings… figures her blood would be toxic to the likes of him.

As the pain started to subside Angelus found himself suddenly tired in a way he’d never felt before. With it, came a sense of helpless anger that was foreign to the sadistic vampire that had once been one quarter of the scourge of Europe.

First Tain not only fails to have what he wants but actually manages to fuckin’ die without telling him where he can get his hands on it, and then he nearly gets incinerated from the inside out by snacking on that Cordelia bitch’s blood.

Could his day get any worse?

He’d been so smug when he’d first picked up Doyle’s scent, realizing that Cordelia had undoubtedly sent her little watchdog to keep tabs on him. That when he’d become aware, only minutes after he’d finished with Tain, that Doyle was no longer following him. He couldn’t resist the chance to catch the former seer alone.

And when he’d found that Cordelia was within striking distance he hadn’t stopped to think.

Angel loved the fucking bitch even more than he’d loved the slayer. The chance to destroy something that Angel had loved was irresistible to the creature that had spent what seemed like centuries trapped beneath the yoke of the soul.

The fact that there was a certain sneaking admiration on the demon’s part for the woman his better half loved, also lent a hefty measure of viciousness to his desire to destroy her.

Angelus prided himself on the fact that he had never in his entire existence cared for anyone more than he cared for his own hide.

Not even Darla his sire had rated more than fleeting affection. Most of which had more to do with the sire bond than anything else.

The fact that his demon admired the sometimes bitchy and determined Miss Chase, even for a second, had Angelus shaken more than he cared to admit.

Now he was reaping the benefits of his haste.

It was going to take him days to heal from the damage a few sips of her blood had done and he hadn’t even managed to hurt her, let alone kill her.

God what the hell was it with that woman?

She was a vain airhead who should have been vampire fodder years ago. But instead she somehow managed to survive not only the Hellmouth but also years of being his souled self’s sidekick. Not even giving birth to a corrupt goddess had managed to take her out permanently. And now she was some sort of higher being that he couldn’t even bite?

And why the fuck am I letting the bitch get to me like this. So I can’t drain her… there are lots of ways to skin a cat.

He shook his head trying to clear it from both his thoughts and the pain of his burns.

Angelus’s demon shifted restlessly, the thought of Cordelia’s bared throat and her whimper of fear stirring feelings that were foreign to a creature that lived for nothing but others misery.

The problem, which Angelus had yet to become aware off, was that the demon had spent years locked within Angel. Trapped and held at bay by the soul, the one constant thing in its universe had been Cordelia Chase.

Sure, Angelus and Angel were two sides of a very different coin; Angelus was what was left of a man called Liam and the vampire demon combined.

Borne the night Darla brought him over, Liam the drunken wastrel, united with the power of the demon had become Angelus. However the demon alone, without the man’s desire and needs to drive it, was not the same being. And that was the crunch.

Ever since Angel had taken up residence in LA the demon had shared its quarters with Angel, and unbeknownst to Angelus that was where his yet to be revealed troubles had started.

Because Angel was an amalgamation of the soul and the demon, without realizing it, the demon had slowly but surely started to change, evolving beyond what it had been when it had first taken its host.

In actual fact it wasn’t the demon that made Angelus the animal he was.

The creature that had rampaged by Darla’s side was what was left of the man, the remnants of his humanity powered by the demon but unchecked by the guilt or pity that was the soul’s purveyor.

And, since the demon experienced everything its host lived through, most of what it had experienced in the last few years had been through the eyes of Angel and consequently at the side of Cordelia.

Angelus had no way of knowing but the soul had started to have a similar effect on his demon to what the chip had had on Spike’s.

Without the soul people were food, plain and simple, but with it they, or rather one particular person, had become something else. Cordelia had become, in the demon’s eyes… his.

Angelus may have had no capacity for love, but unfortunately for him the demon was a very different entity.

Now as he licked his wounds and plotted his next move, the demon, for the first time in its existence, found itself not in total accord with its host’s wishes.

Angelus saw her as an enemy to be bested but the demon saw her as something more.

Somewhere along the line Cordelia Chase had become, in its eyes… a fitting mate.

*****************

Willow had only just finished setting up the circle and ingredients for the spell when she became aware that Dawn was missing.

Brow scrunched into a frown but not overly concerned, she scanned the lobby before turning to Faith.

“Hey Faith, do you know where Dawn went?”

Faith looked up from the stake she was whittling.

“Na Red, she was here before. Maybe she went to the bathroom.”

At the look on Willow’s face, she sighed wearily and got to her feet.

“Right… I’ll take the bathroom and upstairs, you get down here and the basement.”

“Sorry” offered Willow apologetically “I’m probably just being a nervous nelly but with Angelus on the loose, well… its Dawn…”

“Say no more.” drawled Faith, interrupting her. “I do seem to remember half pint spending a whole lotta time being the kidnapee to Buffy’s rescue ranger. Wouldn’t want B to get back and find out we lost little sis”.

She headed up the stairs.

“Give us a shout if you find anything.” she threw back over her shoulder.

Ten minutes later, when she had yet to find Dawn in any of the ground floor rooms Willow found herself glaring at the basement door.

“Oh you so better not be doing what I think you are doing, missy.” she muttered as she pushed the door open

She had barely taken three steps downwards before her suspicions were confirmed by the sight of Dawn standing over the cowering shape of Andrew.

Rushing the rest of the way down the stairs heart in her throat, Willow gasped when she finally got a good look at what Dawn was up to.

She blinked hard, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes were telling her.

Here she was thinking that she might have to rescue Dawn from Andrew and instead it looked like Andrew who was the one that might need to be rescued.

Goddess, what the frilly heck does she think she’s doing… And since when does Dawnie carry a knife?

Willow moved cautiously towards the cage, her eyes never leaving the chilling sight of Dawn and the knife at Andrew’s throat.

Willow was at the door of the cage before she realized that Dawn was so caught up in what she was doing that she wasn’t even aware of her presence.

She paused for a moment, the chilling sight of the terror on Andrew’s face flashing her back to Sunnydale and the night she had killed Warren.

Frozen with her own memories and indecision, she gradually became aware of the fact that Dawn was talking to him. Listening to the other girl’s words, she shivered in recognition.

The anger and hatred in Dawn’s voice familiar to Willow in ways she could barely associate with the sweet girl that she knew.

“You piece of filth,” snarled Dawn. “I should kill you right now and save the others the bother.”

The knife in her hand quivered, her barely suppressed rage making her hand tremble. “You’re a nothing but a fucking rapist and cold blooded killer… just like Warren. You don’t deserve to live anymore than he did.”

At his flinch, she smiled coldly before continuing. “But I’m afraid, unfortunately for you… I’m not gonna let you off that lightly.”

Trying to control the anger that threatened to overtake her, she paused to draw in a deep shuddering breath.

“Anya wasted her life saving you and I won’t let her life have so little meaning. She died in agony and you owe her… you owe us. So understand this Andrew Wells, I’m not going to kill you.” she promised “but I guarantee by the time I finish with you you’re gonna really wish I had.”

Gritting her teeth, Dawn fought back the tears that threatened to flow.

She wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt them, she wanted Andrew to suffer the way Angel’s crew had suffered. But even with the rage burning through her, she still found herself balking at actually carrying out her threat.

If I do this… does that make me just like him? God, I wish Spike was here.

Picturing Spike and just how god damn scary he could be, when needed, Dawn reminded herself that even with a soul Spike wouldn’t hesitate to do what needed to be done.

I can do this she thought. I have to do this.

Determination rose in her as she remembered all the times her sister and Spike had saved her over the years. All the times they’d had to do stuff that they didn’t want to do.

And as her determination rose so did something else, the girl in Dawn taking a step back to make room for the power of the key, its presence erasing the last of the girl’s pity.

Her anger, fear, and reservations quieted as she studied the cowering form of Andrew.

When she finally spoke, her emotions were firmly under control, her inner self, detached from the part of her doing the talking.

“You Andrew, are going to pay in blood for every death you’ve caused, intentional or not.” Pressing the blade against his throat she jerked it just enough to make him jump and to start the blood flowing.

“And then, if you’re a good boy and tell me everything I want to know, I might decide to put you out of you’re misery.” she offered, the cold smile on her face underlining her words.

Andrew quivered. Heart pounding in his chest as he felt the first cut of the knife, he pushed back against the wall in sheer terror.

Eyes skittering away from hers, he fervently wished he’d never come back to LA.

As she continued Andrew cowered, the realization that there was a very real chance that he was going to die washing over him with a clarity that his earlier fear had lacked. Blinking rapidly in fright, her next words only served to heighten his growing terror.

“At least what I do to you will be far quicker than you deserve.”

Eyes glittering with some unnamed emotion she leaned down, until she was barely inches away from his face.

“Then again… maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Willow’s book” she mused thoughtfully.

“Hey… if you’re real lucky, I might even let you pick the way you go out.

Meeting his terrified gaze, she let her words sink in before tapping the index finger of her free hand against her chin in contemplation.

“Hmm… Let’s see… wonder which you’d prefer?”

With a deliberately distracted air, she ran the knife back up his throat, until the tip of the blade rested just under his chin.

“They tell me it took hours for Illyria to take over Fred’s body… hours of dying slowly, inch by inch, while a god liquefied her internal organs.”

Using the knife, she forced his head back until his fear filled gaze met hers.

“Then there’s Wesley. His death was quicker, but I’m sure it didn’t feel like it when Valan was taking him apart magically.”

She dug the blade in threateningly, watching dispassionately as blood welled in the fresh wound.

“Or, how about Gunn? He bled for ages before that Fyarl demon finished him off. Of course, having your arms and legs ripped off while you are still alive has to be painful… or so I’d imagine,” she offered, her expression hardening.

“And then there’s the slayers…”

Shaking her head she pursed her mouth thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so...”

Her tone and demeanor turned falsely apologetic as she stared into his eyes.

“Sorry Andy boy… as far as your choices go? I’m afraid… well… the slayers are pretty much out of the running. After all, they died far too cleanly for the likes of you. I for one think you deserve so much more pain than that.”

Slowly drawing the knife through the blood running down his throat, Dawn smiled in satisfaction, as the tears he had been holding back finally started to fall.

Reaching down she grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back.

“So Andrew… lets get started shall we. I’ve drawn first blood… so now it’s your turn to tell me something. And it better be good, coz if it isn’t what I want to hear the next cut is going to be way more painful.”