Spike woke the next morning to find a strong arm around his waist. His nostrils were assaulted with the smell of the Slayer, which was almost as strong as the scent of his sire. Confused and slightly frightened, Spike threw the arm off him and rolled away from the slumbering body and off the bed. Landing in a fighting stance, he looked back at the bed. Angel was beginning to wake. Not sure what to do, Spike held his ground as Angel stirred.

Angel opened his eyes and looked at Spike. The blonde's hair was tousled and his close were also. Angel smirked. That's the way Spike normally looked when he and Angel emerged from a bed together. Although the clothing was normally gone. "Hello William."

"What the hell do you want?" Spike asked, not relaxing his body. He was ready to strike if Angel should attack. He wasn't in the mood for sharing pleasantries with his sire. Spike had way too many unfinished battles with him, and too many hurt feelings to just let them fly out the window. He wasn't going to run into his sire's bed.

"Well, I think I should be asking you the questions since you're in my house," Angel shot back. He began to rise from the bed. Running a hand through his sleep messed hair, he stretched and rolled his shoulders.

"Well, you were in my bed, so I get to ask." Spike's arms began to tire of being in a punch ready position, so he shifted his weight and dropped his arms, but he was still ready to pounce.

"I really don't want to deal with this right now. If you aren't going to play, then I'm going to find someone who will." Angel turned to leave.

When he was almost at the door, Spike said, "Like your Slayer bitch?" After the words were out of his mouth an Angel froze, Spike wished he had kept quiet. The tension in the room built.

Angel slowly turned, and Spike was surprised to see a smile on his sensuous features. "For your information, I'm not fucking the slayer. But you might want to keep your mouth shut or there will be something in there to keep it open." His voice lowered to a breathy whisper. "And I'll enjoy it more than you will."

"Highly unlikely," Spike shot back. Angel looked intrigued. "It's highly unlikely that you're not diddling the Slayer," Spike clarified, although Angel's threat wasn't really that awful. "I can smell her all over you. So unless you've been buying some Au de Slayer, then you've probably spent the past few months screwing her brains out." Spike knew he was digging himself into a deep hole, the but the look on Angel's face made it too good to stop. "That little whore lets you do her and she knows you can't possibly love her. How fucked up is she?"

Angel dove at Spike and had him pinned to the wall by the neck in seconds. Anger ran through him like fire and he wanted to kill Spike for what he had said. But after a moment, as the words sunk in, Angel realized it was true. Buffy loved him and he was sure he could do anything to her and she wouldn't stop loving him. And he didn't love her so what did it matter what he said about her, or to her for that matter? He didn't care what happened to her as long as she still came crawling back for a good fuck. Right? She didn't mean anything to him, did she? He pushed the small voice in his head telling him that he cared for her away.

Just as Spike was sure Angel was going to do him in, his sire laughed. And not a murderous laugh, but a full hearted one. Then Angel's lips were on Spikes in a hard kiss. Spike felt his sire's tongue brush against his for a moment, and then Angel was gone. Spike fell from the wall, gripping his throat.

"Thanks William," Angel yelled from the hallway. Moment later Spike heard Angel's bedroom door shut. Spike was left alone for the time being, and wanting more.


Buffy walked into the mansion with her head held high even though she was filled with fear. It wasn't death she feared-death would be a rescue from this hell she was living. But she had pissed off Angel last night, and she feared that he might turn her. Then he would have her as his vampire whore forever. A shiver ran through her at the thought.

As she made her way toward Angel's bedroom, she steeled herself. She would not allow herself to run. She had to face him. She was tired of running from problems. She reached the door and stopped before opening it. She took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door. Angel lay on the bed, shirtless. He was reading, but he dropped the book as she entered the room.

With a half smile he said, "Well, if it isn't my little slut." He saw her freeze in confusion and laughed. "What? Don't like that name? How about whore?"

Buffy couldn't believe what she was hearing. She never expected this from him. He had never done this to her before. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she begged them not to fall. She couldn't let him see how much his words were affecting her. "What?" she asked.

"O come on, Buff," Angel said, rising from the bed. "You don't think you're a whore? You sleep with a demon who doesn't love you, who only loves the way you fuck." He watched her lower lip tremble and something deep inside him screamed for him to apologize and comfort her. But he continued to talk. "Now why don't you get on your knees like the good little slut that you are? You know how much I love you on your knees." He laughed and a tear ran down her cheek.

"How can you say that?" she asked. Her worst fears were coming true. She knew he would turn on her, but she never thought he could be like this after everything that had happened. Or maybe in the back of her head she knew that he could be this cruel after everything that had happened, and she just didn't want to believe it.

"Aw, Buff," Angel said with mock sympathy. He ran his hand down her cheek and she stepped away. Angel grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, suddenly furious. Buffy fought to get away. "You will not turn away from me." Buffy fought to pull away but he grabbed the back of her neck and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling hard. His face was inches from hers and he ground out his words through clenched teeth. Anger danced in his eyes dark eye-eyes so dark they looked black- like flames. "You are mine and you will do what I say."

He threw her onto the bed and was on her instantly. He straddled her hips and held her as still as possible with one hand. Buffy fought. She screamed for him to get off her as he began to pull off her clothes. She beat against his chest and grabbed his hands away, but he was stronger and held her down. He slapped her across the face to try to get her to stop. She yelled at the top of her lungs for help, but she knew there was no one to help.

"No, please," she begged him. Angel began to rip her pants off her. This couldn't be happening. Angel had had her many times, but never had he raped her. She had always been willing. But now she wasn't. He had been teasingly cruel while they had been together, but he had never hurt her, never been so truculent. "Stop!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face.

Fed up with her fit, Angel wrapped his hand around her throat. She stopped yelling as her air supply was cut off. She struggled for breath and tried to pull his hands away as Angel said, "Shut up. There is no one here to help you now, my Slayer slut." Just as she was at the point of passing out, Angel pulled his hand away and went back to undressing her.

Buffy sobbed. She couldn't fight him off her; there was nothing she could do to stop him. "Please," she cried. "Don't, Angel please."

"I'm not Angel," he seethed. "He died when you slept with him, whore." With one hand Angel undid the button fly to his pants. He kissed Buffy hard on the lips but she didn't kiss him back. He tasted the salt of her tears. In the back of his mind, in the heart he no longer had, something screamed for him to stop, but he didn't. He pushed the bit if a soul that he had away and told himself he could do this, that he should have done it a while ago. He didn't love her, he never would. He couldn't love, he didn't have a heart, he told himself. I don't care if I hurt her. I don't care about her. He pushed open her legs and ignored her screams as he raped her.

Buffy closed her eyes and cried. She begged him to stop, but he kept going. Finally, he pulled away from her. She heard him buttoning his pants, but she didn't open her eyes. She continued to sob. Her mind wouldn't register what happened. She couldn't think about it.

"Be gone by the time I'm back." Angelus's voice was void of emotion.

Buffy waited until she no longer felt his presence before she opened her eyes. Still in tears, she pulled on her clothes. When she had come here, she had not thought he would do that. She didn't think that he would ever be evil enough to do that. But she had been wrong.

~ Buffy laid on Angel's bed for a long while-she wasn't sure exactly how much time had gone by-and she wasn't afraid of him coming back. He had most likely taken the sewers out to Willy's or somewhere else where he could find some innocent to kill. She was pretty sure he wouldn't be back until he was sure she was gone. He wouldn't want to talk to her. So Buffy lay there, one hand on her stomach, the other against her throat. Her eyes were glazed over and there were no thoughts going through her brain. She felt nothing, thought nothing, saw nothing. She didn't feel the silk comforter under her supine body. She didn't feel the cool air make the hairs on her arms stand on end.

She just laid there.

It seemed like forever before a thought registered in her mind. The things that had happened to her replayed themselves in her mind, and terror began to fill her. She had been raped. The man-demon-she loved had raped her. Suddenly heat ran through her body and she ran towards the bathroom. She vomited up more food that she eaten in the past few days, and she began to dry heave. Her throat burned and tears ran down her cheeks. Finally she calmed herself enough and she sat back against the wall. She pulled her knees into her chest and buried her head in her knees.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have been stupid enough not to think this would happen? How many times did her friends warn her about Angelus, telling her he was evil and would turn on her, and she had shrugged them off? Why hadn't she listened?

Because she loved him.

No matter what he had done to her, she had loved him. And she had convinced herself that deep down he loved her too. He had been loving and caring, building up her self worth that he had previously destroyed. And he taken care of her after she had been hurt. She had thought that after he realized that he could really lose her, that it had made him realize how much he cared for her. But it had all been a fa├žade.

She realized it now.

Everything her friends had said had been true. And so had everything Angel had said to her today. She was a whore. She slept with someone who didn't love her, who was simply using her. And she had let him. She had come to him willingly. And tonight he had taken advantage of that fact.

Buffy wondered if he even felt the slightest bit of remorse as he was raping her.

She slowly pulled herself to her feet. Shaking she walked back to Angel's bed and pulled on her clothes. She had been wearing a turtleneck sweater- it was January, and while it didn't snow in Southern California, it still got chilly- and there was a hug rip down the right side of the neck to mid way down her right arm. She didn't remember him ripping it. After she had dressed, she began to walk slowly out of the mansion. She felt another vampire presence-it wasn't strong enough to be Angel's- but she ignored it.

Buffy's legs felt like they could go out from underneath her at any moment. She walked slowly and hesitantly out of the stone building that was now felt like a prison to her.


Spike had felt the Slayer enter the mansion but he hadn't dared go out to see what she was there for. He knew very well she was here to see Angel. But from the way things ended, he was pretty sure she hadn't expected to be raped. A part of Spike had wanted to go in and stop Angel, but a larger part was smart enough to know that it would only anger his sire more.

Spike watched as Buffy walked out of the mansion, hunched over in pain and crying. She held her body and Spike hoped the bastard died for what he did to her. Even Spike, who had been evil and a royal bastard himself, had never raped someone, and he never would. It took a true monster to do that.


Willow hadn't talked to Buffy in three days. After she had left her friend's house on Saturday, she had called several times throughout the day- leaving a message most of the times-and had not received a call back. On Sunday, she called again and Mrs. Summers answered the phone. Buffy was sick and didn't feel well enough to talk, but Joyce would let Buffy know Willow had called. Willow had expected Buffy to call her back later that day, but she hadn't. Now it was halfway through Monday, and Buffy was home sick.

It was lunch and Giles was in a meeting, Xander was making out with Cordelia somewhere, and Oz was away with the band, so Willow was by herself in the library. Normally she found time alone in there calming and relaxing, but today her nerves where on end, and even though the mid day sun was streaming threw the window, every creak and soft noise made Willow jump. She had her laptop out and was trying to keep herself busy searching pagan sites, but she couldn't keep her eyes on the screen. She looked at the clock every few minutes, only to find that she still had more than half of her lunch period to go.

She was concerned for her friend. When she had asked Joyce what Buffy had, she said she thought it was just a bad cold or the flu, but that Buffy seemed to be in her own world. Joyce assumed that stress was getting to her and it had finally become too much. But Willow didn't buy it. She knew something else was wrong with Buffy and the she had been lying to her mother. Willow knew that it had to do with Angel. She just didn't want to know what he had done to her this time that had the Slayer confined to her bed. When Willow asked if she could stop by to see Buffy, Buffy had told her mother she didn't want to see anyone, not even Willow.

Now, as the redhead sat alone, she began to think of all the horrible things that Angel could have done to her friend. Most of them made her nauseous and she had to push her sandwich away. She knew she should talk to Giles about it-he had only known that Buffy had been sick today, and he had simply said that she probably was still lagging from her accident-but she didn't want to concern him or get too many people involved when it was obvious that Buffy didn't want anyone to know what was really wrong. Then there was the fact that Buffy really did have the flu and just didn't want anyone to catch it so she kep them away.

But that just didn't make sense to Willow. She tried to push the thought out of her mind, but she couldn't stop the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong.


Angelus dreamt. Vampires didn't normally dream, and when they did, it was usually prophetic. But this dream was of something that had already come to pass.

He watched himself verbally abuse Buffy, call her a whore, and them hold her down while he forced himself on her. He heard her screams echo in his head. He had blocked out her screams before. He couldn't handle her begging him to stop.

As he dreamt and watched himself hurt her over and over, anger boiled up in him. Anger at her for loving her, anger for letting her effect him, but mostly anger at himself for raping her.

His dream repeated itself over and over, until he couldn't take it any more. In his sleep, Angel screamed. He sat up in his bed. His eyes were wide and his body slick with perspiration. That in itself wasn't normal. He took a deep breath to try calm himself, but he couldn't. He wasn't in control of his body. Emotions he never thought he would be able to feel pushed to the surface. The soul that still existed deep within him, so deep he could almost never feel it, had found it's way to his mind.

Angelus had never felt a bit of guilt about anything he had ever done. Now he could feel his heart twisting with pain as he thought of what he had done to Buffy. He had caused he so much pain. He had done things to her he was sure she never knew he could do. And he had loved it.

Now, as his dream replayed itself in his mind, he began to feel what he had done to her.


Buffy stared blankly at the TV screen. She had been watching it since eight this morning, and it was now two thirty. But nothing said on the talk shows or old sitcom reruns registered in her mind. It was the third day that she had told her mother she was "sick" and had managed to get out of school. She didn't know how she would deal with school. Surely her friends would notice that she was acting weird and they would all question her until she flipped. She wouldn't be able to handle that.

Buffy changed the channel again in hopes of finding something that could pull her mind from the horrible things that had happened to her, but she couldn't. With a sign, she turned off the TV and rolled onto her side. It was just past two, and her friends would be arriving home soon. Her mother wouldn't be home until six. So unless someone called her, she would have the next four hours to herself.

Normally if she had that much time to relax, she's sleep. But she couldn't sleep. She closed her eyes and pictures of Angel hovering over her flashed before her. She pretended to sleep at night until her mother was asleep. Then she crept out onto the roof and cried. She's sit there until just before dawn, and she's watch the stars and wonder why her life had to be the way it was.

Feeling tears well up in her eyes, she sealed them shut and shook her head. She couldn't cry any more. Her throat was raw and her eyes stung. Deciding she needed something to keep herself busy, she got out of bed and walked downstairs. Once in the kitchen she made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. There had been no new deaths of any interest to her- a man had died of a heart attack, nothing super natural. She flipped though the rest of the paper looking for anything interesting, but found nothing.

The phone rang. Buffy jumped and looked at the phone. She begged it to stop ringing. She didn't want to answer it. She let the answering machine pick up. It was Willow.

"Buffy, I know you're home. Please pick up." There was a pause. "Buffy, please, I'm worried about you." After a moment Willow sighed. "Fine, I'll try back later."

Buffy picked up the phone seconds before Willow hung up. "Will," she said softly. Buffy could hear her friend's breath a sign of relief that she had picked up the phone. "I need to talk."


Willow arrived moment later, driving faster than she had ever driven before. She knew her mother would kill her if she had seen how fast she'd been going. She walked up to the Summer's front door and walked in without knocking. Buffy was in the kitchen, sitting with a cup of tea in her hands. She looked awful, must like she had looked before the accident. "Buffy."

Buffy looked up at her friend with tears stained eyes. "I don't know what to do, Will, I don't." A silver tear ran down her cheek. She blinked to stop the rest of the tears that stung her eyes. Willow hugged her friend, and Buffy lay her head against Willow's shoulder. She began to cry and didn't know if she would ever b able to stop.


Finally Buffy's sobs had subsided and she had told Willow the entire story of how Angelus had raped her. She cried the entire time and Willow had comforted her. Now they sat in silence, Willow digesting all the information, Buffy trying to stop the images of that night from running through her head like a silent movie. She didn't think they would ever truly go away.

"I'm so sorry," Willow finally said. She didn't know what else to say. She was so angry with Angelus. All that was holding her back from going out and killing him was the knowledge that it would get her killed. She wanted him to pay for what he did to Buffy.

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again. She blinked a few times and then finally said. "I still love him." Willow looked up, her large eyes open wide with shock. "I don't know how I can possibly still love him, but I do." Tears stung her throat and she began to sob again. "I love the monster that raped me."

"O, Buffy," Willow said. She took Buffy in her arms and held her while she cried. "Sometimes you can't help who you love. No matter how much they hurt you, you still love them. There is nothing you can do to change that." Her voice was soft and soothing and it helped Buffy. While she was still hurt, and still confused, she knew deep down, that she would get through this.

And then she would finally be able to solve things.