CoF - Laure Alexander - TEAOW&S - Trials: Celebration

Summary: Buffy survived her trial and now faces the Watchers. The Scooby Gang celebrates, Angel broods, and Drusilla freaks out a bit.

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Buffy/Angelus, Willow/Spike, Spike/Drusilla, Cordelia/Willow
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
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Upon reaching the foyer of the house, Angel set Buffy on her feet and slowly ran his eyes over her. "You're bleeding too much; I don't like it," he growled.

Buffy glanced down at the front of her shirt and saw that it was streaked with fresh blood. Raising one hand to her breast, she winced at the wave of pain that washed over her. "I'm not too thrilled about it either," she gasped out. "I don't seem to be healing as quickly anymore, but not all of this is my blood."

"His stink is all over you. I want to kill him again, very slowly and painfully."

Scowling, Angel turned his gaze to the very solid looking front door. "You need medical attention."

"I suppose if I pound on the door and tell them to let me out, they'll ignore me, thinking I'm trying to escape from the big bad monster," Buffy sighed.

"This is totally idiotic." Crouching down in front of the door, Angel examined the lock. "Do you have a lock pick?"

"Um, 1999 dear. Only grandmas wear those." Taking one of her cute, pink barrettes from her hair, she handed it to him. "Will this work?"

Angel stared at it, momentarily overcome by the fact that he was in love with a modern teenager, then shook his head. "Too big." He dug into his pockets and pulled out a comb, his wallet, a set of thumbscrews, a nipple clamp, a coupon for a free drink with purchase of a pizza at Pizza Hut, and a bobby pin with one, long, black curl wrapped around it.

"Dru." Smiling at the foresight--literally--of his youngest childe, Angel unwrapped the curl and started to work on the lock.

"Well, she's grandmas' age," Buffy muttered as she gently probed the oozing slashes on her arms.

Angel grinned and twisted the pin in the lock. If the Slayer could quip, she was going to be fine.

The lock quietly popped open and Angel rose to his feet. "If you can draw the idiots to the front, I can go out the back through an upper window. They'll think any damage was done during the fight."

"No problem. I have a few choice words to say to them," Buffy replied caustically, straightening her shoulders and heading for the door.

Touching her lightly on the shoulder, Angel stopped her forward progression. She looked up at him questioningly, then smiled as he kissed her more tenderly than he ever had.

Before she could say anything, he bounded up the stairs. Buffy reached for the doorknob and opened the door with a resounding bang. Stepping onto the front porch she peered into the late night gloom.

After a long moment, a very flustered Wesley came out of the bushes, brushing off his suit. "Ah, Miss Summers. A successful mission, I presume?"

"I just wonder how a two foot tall basically harmless to me demon turned into two vampires and an armless corpse." Buffy took great satisfaction in seeing him turn pasty. "What the hell is going on, Wes? You send me into a boarded up wreck of a house without any weapons and there's a couple of crazed vampires in there, then the freaking door gets locked. I'm lucky to be alive." As she spoke in a hard, harsh voice, she walked down the stairs, cradling her left arm which hurt worse than her right.

Out of the shadows on either side of her came two men, one young, one old, both wearing tweed.

"Congratulations, Miss Summers," the older one said, though he didn't look pleased. "I am Quentin Travers of the Watcher's Council. You have passed the Crucimentium."

The small smile that crossed his face made her shiver--it was equally as unpleasant as one of Angel's most evil smirks.

"No, it's part of the test. The Crucimentium is a trial of wits and mind, not body, so we weaken the body."

"Drugs?" Her eyes snapped to Wesley who flushed, and tugged at his collar. "Wesley?"

"Mr. Giles refused to do his duty, so I took his place," the younger Watcher stammered. "It was necessary, Miss Summers, I assure you. And there was only to be one vampire. He..." He cleared his throat.

"...Broke free," the older man finished coldly, "and killed two of my men, turning one. I'm amazed that you managed to kill both of them."

"Yeah, I'm quite amazing. And I'm done here. You Watchers have any other little tests or pop quizzes, you can bring them to the Library tomorrow afternoon. I have to go to the ER now before I bleed to death."

"Didn't seem to bother you before, Wesley. Just go to hell. I can take care of myself. I think I proved that tonight." She brushed abruptly past him and limped down the walkway. Her knee and hip ached from the many crashes to the floor, and Buffy could feel bruises forming on just about every inch of her body.

"Miss Summers," Travers began, "you can't just walk away. You must be debriefed, you..."

Passing through the gate, she headed across the street. They didn't try to stop her again.

By the time Angel reached the mansion he was in full brood mode. The dark look on his face sent fledglings scurrying in terror, and even the oldest and strongest minions turned their faces away from him in submission.

Only Drusilla spoke to him, tugging on his arm and leading him to the couch in his sitting room.

Frowning, she ignored him and delicately probed the head wound. It was healing, but there was dried blood on the wound. Wetting a finger, she drew it along the gash, reconstituting the blood. With her finger coated in the rich ichor, she smiled and sucked the digit between her lips.

"So...powerful," she murmured, "And full of..." Her eyes widened and she sank down onto the couch to stare at her sire. "Fear?"

"She nearly died," Angel ground out, jerking his eyes from her to stare across the room. "I was knocked out, useless."

Drusilla frowned again and sat back on her heels, growling, "She should have died."

His fingers were around her throat, the nails digging into her tender skin, before she could react. She met his eyes, her own calm, as a slight smile grew on her face.

"Will you hurt me now?" she murmured, anticipation flowing like heat through her still body.

"I hate her," Drusilla muttered petulantly, curling into the far corner of the couch. "She's all you think about, all you dream about. You reek of love."

"...Oh." The vampiress' mood swung back again and she crawled back to him, cuddling against his side. "Love isn't so bad."

Restraining himself from rolling his eyes, Angel grabbed the phone off the end table.

"Buffy? Are you out of the house?" Giles asked, having taken the phone from a shaking Joyce.

Giles turned to the gathered group--Joyce, Jenny, Xander, Cordelia, Willow and Spike--and smiled in relief. "She made it."

"I'll bring her home safely," he promised, before grabbing his coat and leaving the house.

As Spike swooped Willow into his arms to kiss her, his pants began to vibrate. In joy and bewilderment, Willow giggled.

Scowling, Spike wormed his hand between them and pulled a pager out of his pocket. "Angelus' new toy." Checking the message, he smiled slightly. "He's fine." Then he frowned. "Wants me back at the mansion."

With a gentle kiss, Spike replied, "Because he's a controlling prat, luv. I'll go find out what he wants, and give you a call later if I can't get away."

As he tried to pull away from her, Willow clung to him, pleading, "You know he won't let you come back to me. Tell him to piss off, and stay."

"Willow, you know I can't," he said gently, disentangling himself from her grip. "You have to let me go to him."

Pulling her into the hallway away from the celebration, he leaned forward so he could speak softly. "I hate what he wants to do to you, Willow, but I don't hate him on my own behalf anymore."

"Why not?" The hurt in her eyes made him wince, but he needed to explain the growing resurgence of emotions he hadn't felt for one hundred years.

"He's my sire. Yeah, he's a prick and a blowhard and right evil fucker, and he's half insane due to being head over heels in love with a slayer, for fuck's sake, not that she isn't a nice person, but...after one hundred years, he's come back to me. My sire, my lover, my brother in arms. For the most part, the last couple of months have been...like old times."

"Never," he swore, kissing her again. "And what I feel for him is much different than what I feel for you, my truest love."

Wrapping her fingers in the front of his shirt, Willow drew his head down for another kiss. "I don't get it."

Spike smiled and hugged her close. "Good, I'll do my damnedest to see that you never understand it. Now, I really have to go."

Chuckling, Spike kissed her one last lingering time, then slipped out the front door.

"Want to make something of it?" the redhead challenged, arms crossing over her chest.

Cordelia grinned. "Later. Xander's parents actually want him home tonight, so..."

"I think I can do that." Slipping her arm through Willow's, the dominatrix cheerleader of Sunnydale High led the way back into the living room.

Giles found her slumped next to the payphone, one arm tucked protectively against her body. As he crouched down in front of her, fear flooded him as the lights from the store illuminated the fresh blood oozing from gashes in her arm and chest.

With a whimper and regardless of the pain, Buffy launched herself into her Watcher's arms, weeping.

Tears of relief filling his own eyes, Giles hugged her gently for a long moment, then easily lifted her into his arms and slid her into the passenger seat of his car. Groaning she sank into the bucket seat and closed her eyes, exhaustion and pain taking their toll on her.

"I think a trip to the emergency room is in order," Giles said, trying not to panic at the sight of wounds that showed no sign of healing on his Slayer.

Giles quickly rounded the car and got in the driver's side. With one lingering glance at her pale and shaking form, he started the engine.

"You beeped me, your majesty?" Spike asked sarcastically as he entered Angel's suite.

Angel sat on the couch, Drusilla kneeling beside him clucking over a healing wound on his head.

"She won, and by herself in the end." The dark male pointed to the head wound and made a frustrated sound. "I was basically useless."

Drawing up a chair, Spike plopped down in it and started to explain. "If you had gone in and rescued her, doing her job for her, she'd never know if she'd have had the strength to do it herself. She'd be dependent on you." He gave his sire a shrewd look. "And you knew that, and that's not what you want."

Angel growled again and pushed Drusilla's hand away. "So, you're saying I let myself get knocked out."

Spike shrugged and lit a cigarette. "Probably not consciously. But, you don't want her weak. You just don't want her trying to stake your ass."

"That would make it very hard to sit," Drusilla giggled, reaching behind herself to pat her bottom.

"Why aren't you with her?" the younger male asked his sire, giving his insane lover an indulgent smile.

Hiding his smile at the anxious look on his sire's face, Spike replied, "She called for Giles to come get her."

"Luv, why would we want to do that?" Spike asked at the same time that Angel snapped, "It's just a saying, Dru. Stop being so flaky tonight."

Frowning, the vampiress rose to her feet and, with a harsh swish of her velvet skirts, headed for the door. "You both are talking at cross purposes and it's not funny. I'm going hunting."

She spun around and glared him into stopping in his tracks. "You just don't want the nasty Watchers to find me."

"Drusilla," Angel snapped. "Either Spike or I go with you when you leave the mansion or you don't get to leave, got it?"

For a moment it looked like she would argue, maybe even throw a tantrum, but then she acquiesced with a glare at her sire. "...Yes, Angel."

Growling, pouting and glowering, she left the room, Spike quickly following her.

Angel shook his head, then growled at the pain that lanced through his skull. Raising his hand to his hair, he growled even more when he felt the dried blood ruining his careful coiffeur.

An hour later, Buffy limped from the emergency room to find Giles anxiously awaiting her.

She tried to shrug, but ended up wincing as abused shoulder muscles screamed. "Bruised, scraped, cut. They think I may have twisted a tendon in my knee and that I was lucky not to tear it. My shoulders are banged up, and I have a couple dozen stitches holding my breast together." At his sudden pallor, she gentled her voice. "I'll be fine, especially once my healing ability kicks back in. I don't have a concussion, so they're letting me go, and they gave me some lovely drugs for the pain and to prevent infection. Those are kicking in now." She smiled and hugged him gently.

"Please," Buffy sighed, letting him support her down the hallway, having refused a wheelchair.

"How long have you known?" Joyce asked Jenny as they sat at the dining room table, drinking coffee while the teenagers chattered in the living room.

"About Buffy being the Slayer?" At Joyce's nod, Jenny continued, "Well, the party line is that I found out near the end of her sophomore year, but I've known since your arrival in Sunnydale. She didn't tell you about my involvement?"

Jenny smiled. "I'm damn lucky to be doing so." Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I'm a gypsy, from the same clan that cursed Angelus. You know about that, right?" Joyce nodded again. "For the life of me I don't know why they risked his losing his soul. They could have made the curse permanent very easily, and given him boils or something if he felt a moment of true happiness." She took a sip of her coffee and another deep breath. "And they didn't inform me of that little clause, either. I was sent here to keep an eye on him. We've always had our eyes on him."

"Oh yeah. I'm American born and raised, in a normal middle class house and family, and educated at San Diego State. My people knew why Angelus was sent here, to help the Slayer, and since the Slayer was a teenager, I was the logical choice to place in her school."

Joyce shook her head slightly and rubbed her temples. "It all sounds so cold-blooded."

"It wasn't. I swear, it wasn't. I quickly came to like Buffy and her friends and...well, Rupert." She grinned, but quickly sobered. "But, when Angelus reverted and the truth of my involvement came out, they partially blamed me. Even though I hadn't known of the clause, their anger was understandable. I stepped back and waited, and while waiting I began to look for the spell to recurse him, thinking that if I could help them..."

Jenny shook her head sadly. "No, and once I was brought back into the inner circle, other things took my time. There's always another demon around the corner." Giving Joyce a chagrined look, she apologized, "Sorry. It's a coping mechanism."

Reaching across the table, Jenny patted the older woman's hand. "Your daughter is incredible, really."

Smiling, Jenny took another sip of coffee. "When Rupert and I found out that Buffy was still seeing Angelus, it suddenly made sense why Buffy had never been very enthusiastic about me searching for the curse."

"I don't get that. I asked her and she hedged a lot. Why wouldn't she want him cursed again? Couldn't you leave that clause out and then they could be together without the fear of him losing his soul again?"

Jenny looked sadly at the blushing mother, before saying carefully, "Joyce, I can only guess at a lot of the details of your daughter's relationship with Angelus, but it's not something that she wants Angel, the one with the soul, to know."

Joyce's eyes fell, and the hand holding her coffee mug began to shake. "She's my baby. All I ever wanted was for her to be happy."

"She is. After a long, hard year of struggling with his demon and her growing feelings for him, she really is happy with him."

Jenny nodded and reached for Joyce's hand. "Vampires...Joyce, they're not cuddly. Pain is something they all enjoy, both causing and suffering it. Most vampires are simply killers, monsters. But some, like Angelus and Spike, still feel human emotions if they'll let themselves. Love can temper any relationship, even one with a demon."

"I believe that I never thought I'd see Angelus as worried as I did earlier today. He reminded me of Angel. His love for Buffy is the same love his soul felt for her. I believe that."

Joyce squeezed the younger woman's hand and tried to swallow her fear for her daughter.

Spike finally caught up to the angry vampiress as she entered the park near the mansion. Grabbing her arm, he spun her around, and frowned down into her demonic eyes. "Why are you so angry?"

"He loves her," she hissed, trying to wrench free of him, all her good feelings regarding the emotion of love gone in the blink of an eye.

"He loves her more than me," Drusilla wailed, beating at Spike's chest with her free hand until he grabbed it. "I'm his dark princess, his black goddess."

"And you still are, luv," he soothed, keeping his calm as he tried to control her flailing limbs. "She can never change that."

At the tears sparkling in her suddenly human eyes, Spike felt his heart sink and he sighed softly. "We loved your first."

Slowly Drusilla quieted, sinking against his solid body, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I'll wither and die alone, Spike. You know that, right? He knows that?"

"No one is leaving you, Drusilla." Releasing her hands, he wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her back.

"How about...I promise it won't return until the moon falls into the sea and all the stars wink out."

"I shall hold you to that promise, my William." Standing on tip- toes, she placed a kiss on his nose, then broke away from him. She backed into a patch of moonlight and swayed seductively. "Make love to me in the moonlight?"

Smiling at the surge of lust through him, Spike pulled off his jacket as he strolled to her.

The front door opened and everyone rushed into the hall. Sobbing in relief, Joyce pulled Buffy into her arms.

"Oh baby, I nearly went insane waiting." Pulling back slightly, Joyce gave her daughter a quick once over, wincing at the sight of the bandages on her arm and another one peeking through the tears in the front of her shirt. "Are you really okay?"

"Bruised, not beaten." Buffy tried to smile, but now that she was safe, exhaustion was overwhelming her. "I'm just really, really tired."

"Yeah, the circles under your eyes...Okay, okay," Cordelia hastily added as Willow and Xander both glared at her. "I'm glad you're alive, Buffy."

Gently Willow hugged her best friend. "We were all so worried, but we knew you'd win."

"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. I just want to sleep for a hundred years or so."

"But, then you'd miss out on such thrills as high school graduation," Xander quipped, leaning in and kissing her cheek. "You're winning was never in doubt."

"Baby. Come on, let's get out of Buffy's hair so she can get that much needed beauty sleep."

As Cordelia and Xander said goodbye and gave Buffy gentle hugs, Willow hung back for a minute.

With a final hug and kiss on the cheek, Willow followed her friends out the door.

Giles slipped his arm around Jenny who leaned into him, relief in her tired expression. "Yes, you get some rest, Buffy. I suspect the Council will wish to talk to you tomorrow."

Smiling, he leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead. "I am very proud of you."

"Good night, Buffy," Jenny added. "We're all so very happy you're going to be fine."

As the couple left, Joyce called goodbye to them and closed the door, locking it for the night. Turning, she saw Buffy's eyes welling with fresh tears and carefully pulled her back into her arms.

Panting from exertion, Cordelia turned on her side and watched Willow tremble. The redhead was tightly tied to the bed, her muscles straining against the bonds. She was on her knees, her bottom in the air and her head on the mattress. Short pants of pain and pleasure were echoing from behind her tangled red locks. Her skin was flushed and covered with a fine sheen of perspiration.

Cordelia wriggled out of the strap-on she'd spent thirty minutes using on her slave and frowned as the tension inside her increased. She'd climaxed twice, but it wasn't enough.

Willow shook her head quickly, a shudder of anticipation running through her body.

Cordelia crawled over one of Willow's arms and scooted down the bed. "Lift your head." As Willow obeyed, Cordelia slid beneath her. "Put your mouth to better use while I think," she ordered, and then moaned as Willow's tongue circled her clit.

Sated, Spike rolled into a sitting position on the cold, damp grass, and reached for his cigarettes. Lighting one and drawing deeply on the nicotine, he smiled as he watched Drusilla giggle as she picked at grass stains on her breasts.

Drusilla sat up, her expression crafty as she crawled towards him like a cat. "And I'm hungry and want to eat Watchers. Can I, Spike?"

She began to pout. "They're evil. The moon told me. I want to howl at them and rip out their guts."

"They threaten Angel and thus threaten us all," Drusilla replied, her voice and expression serious. "It's not over. They won't leave politely like good house guests."

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just see..." As her eyes went misty, she moaned softly. "Decisions must be made, choices chosen, the end...We're on the precipice looking down at the ruins of our salvation." She blinked wildly and shook her head. "Red, so much red, the color of pain and passion and roses and noses and..."

Spike caught her as she collapsed, moaning and whimpering. Gently he stroked her back, murmuring nonsensical words to soothe her.

Faith stood in the shadows of the bandstand watching the two naked vampires, the male comforting the female. She was itching to stake them, but she had promised Buffy she wouldn't. It was just unnatural to let them live.

It was unnatural to let them fuck you, too. Even though she'd listened to all the explanations and seen the devotion the vampires had for their human lovers, it was still unnatural.

And the fact that Willow knew that Spike was unfaithful and accepted it was beyond Faith's understanding.

She didn't believe in fidelity for herself, had never really given it much thought, but then she'd never seen such love. William was utterly devoted and enraptured by Willow, yet Spike was obviously in love with the nutty vampiress, too. And apparently Angel was banging both of the other vampires and Willow along with Buffy.

Frowning and shaking her head, Faith silently stalked off in the opposite direction. This town and its inhabitants were just too much.

Buffy sat on the end of the bed wrapped in a fluffy robe and stared blankly into the mirror on her closet door.

It seemed like every inch of her body was bruised. Her jaw was swollen, her forehead was turning purple, there were finger marks around her neck. In the fight she hadn't even realized she'd hurt those parts of her body.

Sighing, she tried to lift her hand to run a comb through her damp hair and winced at the burning pain that lanced through her shoulder. Her mom had washed her hair--Buffy had refused to go to bed with blood-matted hair--and helped her wash the parts of her body not stitched together, but Buffy had then sent her to bed.

Buffy tried again, groaned in pain, and threw the comb all of two feet in a sudden fit of anger.

At the sound of the voice from outside the window Buffy startled. Her senses dampened, she hadn't felt his presence.

Angel climbed easily through the window. "Since you and your mother came in from the bathroom. How do you feel?"

He dropped to one knee in front of her and gently touched her chin. She flinched.

Chuckling at her snippy retort, Angel reached for the ties of her robe. Buffy grabbed his wrists and gaped at him.

"You say that you're ugly and I'll add a couple more bruises to your lovely bottom."

A tingle went through her and Buffy squirmed, moderating her response. "Temporarily ugly?"

He pulled open the robe and ran his eyes slowly over her slender body. She was covered in bruises, from pale pink to dark purple, and one arm and one breast were swathed in bandages. There were several other scrapes on her body, many of which had bled and were now scabbed over.

Angel's nose twitched, and he tenderly cupped her undamaged breast with one big hand.

Buffy shivered as his words reverberated through her. Her stomach clenched in desire and she moaned as already sore muscles pulled.

Shaking his head to clear it, Angel released her and rose to his feet. "Time for bed." Opening a dresser drawer, he pulled out a pair of sensible white panties and a t-shirt with a panda bear on it. Turning back to her, he gently pushed the robe from her shoulders, then helped her into the t-shirt before handing her the panties.

Buffy slid them up her legs, her eyes on the obvious bulge in his pants. "Um, don't you want to have sex?"

Walking up to the head of the bed, Angel pulled back the blankets, then gestured for her to crawl beneath them. As she did so, he removed his clothes, leaving on a pair of navy silk boxers.

Angel scowled and slid into bed next to her. "If your mother walks in, I don't want her fainting at the sight of my manliness."

Snorting, Buffy rolled onto her least sore side and placed her only slightly swollen cheek on his chest. "Some ego you got there."

Angel's hand slowly stroked over her head and down her back. "It's not ego if it's true, baby."

She smiled, then winced at the pain in her jaw. "Maybe I should have let you eat the Watchers," she mumbled.

Chuckling, Angel placed a soft kiss on the top of her head and reached over to turn off the lamp. "Go to sleep, my love."

Cordelia rolled onto her side to face her girlfriend, shrugging her shoulders. "I wouldn't put it past them, would you?"

"I think they might just pull a gun out and shoot her in the head," Cordelia replied candidly.

Willow paled and squirmed closer to the brunette. "And I thought my future sucked..."

Spike watched Drusilla carefully as she skipped ahead of them on their slow meander back to the mansion. He was willing to lay heavy odds on not finding their sire there on their return, so he wasn't in any hurry. Drusilla was singing softly to the trees, then started to laugh as she twirled around a lamppost.

He was always amazed at her wild mood swings, at how soon she could forget the dire futures she saw in her visions.

Unfortunately, he could never forget, and he was very afraid that this vision had pertained to more than just Buffy's future.

Her eighteenth birthday was only four days before their first anniversary. She would be an adult.

In his lonely motel room bed, Quentin Travers tossed and turned and dreamed of renegade Slayers and insubordinate Watchers dying before his flaming sword.

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

Laure Alexander - lara@sunflower.com

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