~ The Queen of Hearts ~
by Hellmouthguy

e-mail: hellmouthadmin@thehellmouthrevisited.com
my story archive can be found at: www.thehellmouthrevisited.com

Second novel in the Meant To Be series, sequel to: The New World.

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

Drusilla wasn't certain how long she had been there, in the dark...how long she had been praying, and crying. She didn't know if it was day or night. She had fallen asleep at some point, and lost track of time.

"Our Father, which art in Heaven," Drusilla whispered. "Hallowed be thy name."

She didn't know how long she had been praying, but she knew she had prayed a lot. And it hadn't helped. She was still in the closet. The two monsters were still in the house. No one had come to help...

No angel had come to save her.

The ropes around her wrists and ankles weren't too tight, but they were nevertheless starting to hurt again now. Darla had come to check on her a few times, at indeterminate points in the past--Drusilla couldn't remember how long ago it was now, it was hard to keep track of time, all the moments got lost somewhere back there in the dark--letting her out of the closet to use the toilet. The last time Darla had come to check on her, Drusilla had been in the closet long enough by that point for the ropes to affect her circulation and she couldn't stand; Darla had to carry her to the bathroom. Other than those brief respites, Drusilla had lain in the same position in the closet, curled up in a ball, since they'd put her in there. She thought it had been perhaps two days; she was hungry, and very thirsty, and she felt she needed a bath. She tried to turn over, and just barely managed it in the small, cramped closet, but it didn't help much. She wondered if she could possibly untie the knots binding her ankles. She thought she might be able to curl herself up into an even tighter ball, moving her legs up behind her until she could reach her ankles with her hands. But her hands were still tied behind her back, and without them she wouldn't be able to work the doorknob to open the door...

"Thy kingdom come," Drusilla whispered. "Thy will be done, in Earth as it is in Heaven."

Sometimes, she'd heard screams...they sounded like Veronica.

If she untied her legs she might kick the door open, or perhaps work the doorknob with her mouth. But that would still leave her with her hands tied behind her back, and Angelus and Darla were strong; Darla alone had overpowered her father and the rest of her family with ease. They were monsters...

Drusilla knew she had brought them there. She knew they were right...that she had been marked by the Devil, that her visions were his stamp on her, and that she was a monster. Didn't monsters belong with monsters?

But she didn't want to be a monster. She had always tried to be a good person...she hadn't asked for the visions, hadn't asked to be what she was...

She started to cry again. The screams she'd heard...Veronica was paying the price, now...first her mother had paid, and now Veronica was paying...paying for the evil Drusilla knew was a part of her, somehow.

Could an evil thing be redeemed?

"Give us this day our daily bread, and...and forgive us our trespasses... forgive us our trespasses..." Drusilla whispered, as she cried. "Forgive us, Lord. As we forgive them that trespass against us."

Whenever Angelus or Darla has closed the closet door, it had sounded like they had propped her desk chair up against it afterwards. It was likely that she wouldn't be able to kick it open. And with her hands bound, she wouldn't be able to use her father's revolver. She knew the revolver was their only chance against the monsters. She had to find some way to get her hands free, and get to the revolver...

She knew she would. She'd seen it, in a vision. And, for better or worse, her visions had always come true before.

"And lead us not into temptation..." Drusilla whispered.

She knew she just had to wait...and, eventually, her chance would come. She just had to hold on...

She wondered where Cassie was.

The closet was black as pitch and her bedroom outside was dark; there was no light coming in through the keyhole. She felt the pillow Darla had left her, and the floor beneath her; they were the only things that gave a clue to where she was. If it weren't for them, she might have been floating in a void... adrift in nothingness. There were moments when the closet, the void, seemed to be all that existed; moments when it seemed her world had been reduced to nothing. The closet was so dark she couldn't even see herself.

There were moments she wasn't sure she existed anymore.

She had seen darkness, in her visions...not just the darkness of the closet but another darkness as well, deeper and more terrifying. After she pointed the revolver at Angelus in the vision, there was only darkness after that...she wondered what it meant. Her visions were sometimes ambiguous things.

Whatever it meant, whatever that darkness portended...she was going to fight. She was going to be strong, for Cassie. She was going to be as strong as she could. She was going to show the Lord that she could be a good person...that she didn't belong in the darkness.

"But deliver us from evil," Drusilla whispered into the darkness.

"He can't hear you, blackbird," the darkness whispered back...

Drusilla gasped, and shuddered.

"He just isn't listening, I'm afraid," Drusilla heard Angelus whisper, from the other side of the door. "He would never listen to an evil, depraved thing like you. But I'm listening, Dru. I'll always listen."

"What...do you want?" Drusilla said. She couldn't wipe her tears away; her hands were tied. Her tears dripped down her cheeks, and off her chin, onto her dress.

"Just to be with you, darlin'," Angelus said. "To comfort you. I'm your father, after all."

"I heard...screams before."

"That? That was just me raping Veronica. Girl's a screamer." Drusilla heard Angelus chuckle.

"But you said...that you wouldn't," Drusilla whimpered. "You said...if I was with you..."

"I said we'd try it out for awhile," Angelus said. "And we did. But then Veronica got on my nerves."

Angelus had tried to force Veronica to disown Drusilla, to tell her that she hated her; it's what he wanted them all to do. But Veronica refused to say the words, no matter how much he beat her, or raped her. He was going to give her one more chance, but he didn't think she'd give in to him. He'd had to alter his plan because of Veronica, but it didn't really matter. Olivia and Cassandra weren't anywhere near as strong as Veronica and he knew they could be made to do what he wanted. And altering his plan had inspired him to come up with something really special to do with the father...something that he knew would take Drusilla right to the brink.

"Have you...hurt Cassie?" Drusilla whispered.

"No," Angelus said. "She's been a good girl."

"I want you to be a good girl now, Cassie," Darla said.

She was sitting with Cassandra, on the bed in her room. She'd spent most of her time with Cassandra the past two days, ever since they had put Drusilla in the closet; it was part of Angelus' plan. The room was decorated like Drusilla's, with the same painted furniture, and the bed was a sleigh bed like Drusilla's too. There was a draughts board on the writing desk, with all the red and white pieces set in their positions, ready for a new game, and there was a dollhouse, just like Drusilla's, sitting on the floor next to it. But there were no porcelain dolls on shelves lining the walls; instead, Cassandra's walls were covered with paintings. Landscapes, and portraits of her family. Darla thought the paintings were still somewhat rough, the work of an artist mastering her craft, but the portraits were splendid nevertheless, capturing the likenesses with a keen eye; Darla noticed that Drusilla's portrait predominated. In all her portraits, Drusilla was smiling. Unlike the painting in the parlor, Drusilla's smiles in these paintings looked genuine.

Cassandra had done the paintings; Darla saw an easel by the window. There was a canvas on the easel with another portrait of Drusilla, half-completed: Drusilla sitting in a wicker chair on the veranda, laughing and fussing with her hair, with the garden seeming to go on forever behind her, a universe of green, dotted with flowers as bright as stars.

Cassandra's paintings weren't as polished as the family portrait in the parlor, that one was obviously the work of a more experienced artist. But Cassandra captured likenesses extremely well and her paintings had more spirit to them: they were explosions of life and warmth and color, often eschewing fine detail or strict adherence to the rules of composition or perspective in order to emphasize some aspect of their subject that, while not necessarily accurate to life, was nevertheless perfectly accurate to the subject's inner life. The paintings seemed impatient things, created in haste; the short, broad, thick brushstrokes seemed the work of an artist in a hurry, as if the work was burning inside her and needed to get out. The family portrait in the parlor was technically flawless, but it was so formal, so posed, that it drained the life from its subjects; they may as well have been mannequins. Cassandra's paintings had life; they had beating hearts.

The family portrait in the parlor may have been more acceptable, but it was a drab thing; it may have been more valuable, but it was like dull, faded silver compared to Cassandra's vibrant, lustrous gems. Darla wondered why the Morgans hadn't hung one of Cassandra's paintings in the parlor instead, or anywhere else in the house for that matter. Darla found that she wanted to hurt Olivia and her husband, now; they were just prey before, the means to an end. But now she realized she actually hated them. She found that interesting. She found it interesting that she could actually hate someone.

Darla held Cassandra's hands in hers, and watched her eyes, as they darted around the room, looking everywhere but at her: even though Darla had spent almost all of her time with Cassandra these past two days, she knew the girl was still afraid of her. She found herself thinking of those flowers in the glass domes on the mantle in the parlor, as she looked at Cassandra. Beautiful things, trapped, locked away.

"You have to promise to be a good girl for me now that I've untied you," Darla said.

"I'll be good," Cassandra said, looking down at the floor. There were oil paint stains on the floor, ingrained in the wood.

"Look at me," Darla said.

Flinching, Cassandra looked up at her, without looking in her eyes.

Darla realized she had come to like this girl. It was strange...the girl was weak, the weakest of the three sisters, weaker even than the mother. And she was appallingly naive. But for some reason, Darla liked her. There was something bright and beautiful, and fragile, inside of her, that came out in her paintings. The fragility added to its beauty. The girl was soft and skittish, like a deer, and her green eyes were like sun-dappled leaves, and she smelled like flowers.

In her human life, Darla had always wanted a daughter...but she was a whore, and that kind of love was denied her. And she was finding now that the tenderness with which she treated Cassandra, though it was all part of Angelus' plan, wasn't feigned. Tenderness came easily to her, when she was with Cassandra. She could hardly believe, it, but she didn't want to hurt her...she wanted to protect her.

Of course Darla knew she didn't actually care about the girl; that would be preposterous. But still...there was something about Cassandra...something that brought out the mother in her.

Darla thought she might turn her. If they were going to have a daughter, why not two?

"And there are some things you need to do for me if you're going to be a good girl," Darla said. "All right?"

"All right," Cassandra said. She spoke in a flat, languid monotone. She sat very still, her hands folded in her lap.

"First, from now on, I want you to call me 'mother'," Darla said, and smiled, and touched Cassandra's cheek. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Cassandra said.

Darla raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"Yes...mother," Cassandra said.

"Good girl," Darla said, and kissed her cheek.

Cassandra seemed to relax a bit. But she was still tense; she sat rigidly upright on the bed, looking at Darla without really looking at her, because she was afraid to. Looking in her eyes, Darla knew Cassandra was somewhere else... hiding from her.

"Draughts," Darla said, looking over at the draughts board. "Where I come from, we call it checkers."

"Checkers?" Cassandra said.

"Because of the checkered board, dear," Darla said.

"Oh," Cassandra said.

"Do you like to play?"

"Yes...I play sometimes. Drusilla and I...we..."

Cassandra started to cry. Darla hugged her. She knew Cassandra was here, now...she had stopped hiding, for the moment.

"It's all right," Darla whispered. "Mother's here now. Mother will protect you."

"Drusilla," Cassandra whispered. "Is she...?"

"She's perfectly fine, Cassie," Darla said. "We would never hurt her. I promise. She's part of our family now. I'm her mother too, and I'd never hurt one of my daughters. All right?"

Cassandra nodded. She didn't hug Darla back, but Darla could feel Cassandra's body relaxing a little.

Darla looked her in her eyes again, and this time, Cassandra really looked back.

"But you need to be a good girl, and be strong for your sister," Darla said. "Can you be strong for Drusilla?"

"I can," Cassandra said. "I'll be strong. I'll be strong for Dru."

"Good. You know, I was quite a hand at checkers...draughts, in my day," Darla said. "Are you up for a match?"

"All right," Cassandra said.

Darla got up and brought the draughts board to the bed, and set it between them. "Do you play often?" she said.

"I play Dru a lot," Cassandra said. "We have tournaments every week."

"Doesn't Veronica join you?"

"No...she doesn't like draughts. She's always out with father."

"I bet you win the tournaments all the time."

"I win a lot," Cassandra said, and smiled, a small smile. "I'm very good at draughts."

"Well it's been awhile since I've played," Darla said, and smiled back. "The last time was in Barcelona, a very long while ago; I bested an old Moorish soldier three games out of five and won a bottle of rum and some excellent cigars. But I bet I can still show you a thing or two."

"You've...been to Spain?"

"Oh my yes, many times. You haven't?"

"No. I haven't...really been many places."

"Why on earth not? You have the means, certainly you could travel."

Cassandra shrugged her shoulders, and looked down at the draughts board.

"What color do you want?" Cassandra said. "White always moves first. Do you want to be white?"

"I'm always the red," Darla said, and smiled. "You can move first. I rather think you'll need the advantage."

Cassandra smiled again, a bigger smile this time.

"We'll see," she said.

Cassandra made her move, quickly and confidently. Darla countered.

"What's Barcelona like?" Cassandra said.

"Since they ousted the French, Spain has been unstable, with bands of revolutionaries controlling large areas of the country," Darla said. "I don't think Isabella will be on the throne much longer. But it's a lovely country, and Barcelona is my favorite place there; it's where I always go when I visit. It's right by the sea, and it's wonderful there in the summer and even the winters are mild. England is gray and dreary and wet but Spain is absolutely vibrant, especially in summer. It's very warm, but it's dry, not appallingly humid like it can be here. The days are bright and beautiful and the nights are even moreso; Barcelona never seems to have a cloud, and you can see the stars go on forever there at night. The factories haven't blotted out the sky there yet."

"My father travels sometimes," Cassandra said. "He takes Veronica with him sometimes. She's been to France and Italy with him. He doesn't take me or Dru. I don't think...I don't think he likes Dru."

"Why not?" Darla said.

Cassandra moved.

"She's sensitive about things," Cassandra said. "She doesn't want to go hunting with him or go to cricket matches like Veronica does. And her dreams frighten him."

Darla countered.

"They should," Darla said. "They're true."

Cassandra moved, a defensive move, to block Darla's advance.

"How...do you know that?" Cassandra said. "True how?"

Darla brought another piece up and neatly skirted around it.

"Dru dreamed of me, and Angelus," Darla said. "She dreamed we would be her new family...and that we would always love her and take care of her, because your father and the dog never did. Your father should be frightened; we're taking Dru away with us so he can never hurt her again."

Cassandra grew pale, when Darla referred to her mother as a dog. But it soon passed. Darla had spent two days with her, and she always referred to Olivia as the dog; Darla could see Cassandra was getting used to it now. Cassandra wasn't close to her father but she was close to her mother; Darla knew separating them would take time. It began with Olivia on a leash.

Cassandra moved, tentatively; it was an error.

Darla advanced a piece. She caressed Cassandra's hair, and smiled at her.

"But Dru's dreams don't always tell her everything, Cassie," Darla said. "She didn't see you in her vision of us; she doesn't know where you fit. She doesn't know if you're going to be with her...she's afraid you won't. That you'll choose to stay here, with your father and the dog, and not come with her, when we all leave. She's desperately frightened she'll lose you."

Cassandra countered, a good, strong move this time, and looked up at her.

"She won't lose me," Cassandra said.

Darla moved; she saw a weak spot in Cassandra's line and moved to exploit it.

"Even if that means you have to come with me?" Darla said. "But you'd have to endure such dreadful things, Cassie. Why, I'd take you and Dru to Barcelona with me and we'd drink rum and laugh and show those hot-headed Spaniards how draughts is played. I'd show you the canals of Venice, and the Sistine Chapel. I'd see to it your marvelous paintings escaped this dreary house and hung in a proper gallery in Paris. Do you really think you could tolerate such unremitting tedium?"

"You'd really...take me to those places?" Cassandra said, and moved, not paying attention; Darla immediately saw her error.

"Yes, you and Dru together," Darla said, and moved a piece, and laid her trap. "I suppose you'd find it all terribly trying."

Cassandra giggled.

"It does all sound rather trying, but I suppose I might muddle through," Cassandra said, and smiled.

Cassandra moved, and made an error; she didn't notice Darla's gambit and she fell into the trap; it put three of her pieces in the wolf's jaws.

"I've got three jumps," Darla said, and took the three pieces off the board. "Where is that pretty little head of yours?"

"I can't believe I didn't see that," Cassandra said. Darla thought she had the most precious little pouty look on her face, when she said it.

"I told you, I'm quite the hand," Darla said, and grinned. "And I even gave you the first move, too. Are you certain you've won all those tournaments, dear?"

"Just watch," Cassandra said, and concentrated on the board, and Darla thought her brow furrowed in the most adorable way, as she thought carefully about her next move.

"The proof's in the pudding, dear," Darla said.

Cassandra moved.

"Tell me more about Spain?" she said.

Darla countered; she sacrificed a piece to open the board.

"Aha," Cassandra said, and smiled, as she took Darla's piece. "Told you. I'm paying attention now."

"We'll see, dear," Darla said, and moved again, leaving another of her pieces vulnerable.

"Where is that pretty head of yours?" Cassandra said, and giggled, and took the piece. Darla giggled too.

Everything was going according to plan...

"Go on about Spain," Cassandra said.

Darla moved.

"There are people, especially English people, who think of Spain as a backward country," Darla said. "I suppose because there are so many beautiful little out of the way towns there that don't have quite the modern amenities they're used to when they travel. English people go to Spain and they see illiterate peasants. But I go there and I see people who are alive: people who laugh, and argue, and drink, and have passion, have fire. I'll take one Spanish bullfight over a dozen English cricket matches. I'd rather sit all day long in a tiny little bar in Barcelona drinking rum and playing cards with a wild group of drunk old Spaniards than have to attend yet another dull English banquet. There's a Spanish painter I think you'd like, Francisco Goya. Have you heard of him?"

Darla smiled as they traded moves; she was making steady progress through Cassandra's ranks now, attacking Cassandra's pieces and sacrificing some of her own to draw Cassandra's attention where she wanted it; away from the two red pieces that were heading, inexorably, toward Cassandra's king's row.

"I've heard of him, but I haven't seen his work," Cassandra said. Darla thought she looked worried now; she'd finally noticed what Darla was doing. Cassandra saw the two pieces heading for king's row and knew she wouldn't be able to stop them both...

Cassandra moved, trying to head off one of Darla's pieces.

Darla countered.

"You'd love his work, it has fire, like yours does," Darla said. "In fact yours reminds me very much of his. You have the same wonderful grasp of light and shadow as he did, and you have the same passion; you capture the intensity of moments the way he did. Someday, if you'd like, I'll take you to see his work."

"I'd like that," Cassandra said, and blocked one of Darla's pieces from reaching king's row. But it left the way open for the other piece.

Darla moved the piece, one rank away from king's row now, and none of Cassandra's pieces were in position to stop it.

"I'll take you and Dru," Darla said. "We'll all go, the whole family."

Cassandra regrouped. She needed to reach Darla's king's row with one of her own pieces as soon as possible now. She considered the board.

"Would you like that?" Darla said. "You and me and Dru, in Spain, looking at Goya's paintings?

Darla had considered her strategy well, Cassandra thought. She saw no way through Darla's ranks, not without sacrificing too many of her pieces and leaving the rest vulnerable; those initial three losses had hurt her more badly than she thought. She moved a piece, but she knew it didn't matter now; most of her pieces were blocked and she was outnumbered, and Darla had a clear path to king's row...

Cassandra realized the game was lost; Darla was too good a player not to press this advantage. Darla wouldn't make a mistake now.

"Yes...I think I'd like that," Cassandra said. "If...if Dru was with us."

"She will be, Cassie," Darla said.

Darla moved her red piece into king's row.

"King me," Darla said, and smiled.

"The game is lost," Cassandra said, as she capped Darla's piece. "Perhaps I'm not so good as I think."

"I've lived a very long time, Cassie. I'm very old and I've seen many things and played quite a lot of checkers...draughts. We can play three out of five. You'll have every chance to redeem yourself and give me a right thumping."

"All right. You're not old. You're pretty."

"You think I'm pretty?"

Cassandra nodded.

Darla hugged her. This time, Cassandra hugged her back. Cassandra was tentative when she hugged Darla back, and she only did it for a couple of seconds, but she did it.

Darla looked at her. Cassandra had a beautiful neck; it was long and white, like a swan.

"You're such a little angel," Darla whispered, and decided she would begin taking Cassandra's blood soon. She knew Cassandra would come to like it in time, and it would bring them closer. "But trust me Cassie, I'm much older than I look."

"Really?" Cassandra said, and looked at Darla, studying her face. "But you don't look much older than Dru."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Darla said.

Veronica slept on the floor in her bedroom, huddled in the corner where Angelus had left her the night before, tied up and bloody and beaten, and dreamed of cigar smoke.

Her father's cigars were such smelly, awful things, they stunk up the whole house...

Her pain woke her up again.

She wondered how long she had managed to sleep this time. She looked toward the window. Angelus had drawn the heavy curtains, but she could tell it was still day outside. The ropes were cutting into her wrists and her ankles, cutting off her circulation; Angelus had tied them very tight. Her wrists and ankles felt numb now, and they were drained of color, except where they were lacerated from the ropes.

The pain was all flowing back now, from every part of her. It never went away for long. One of her arms was broken, and her left eye was swollen shut. Her lips were swollen so large that she could hardly speak through them anymore; Angelus had punched her in the mouth, and she had lost two of her front teeth. Breathing through her nose felt strange; it still throbbed, and she thought it was probably broken. She was hungry and thirsty and nauseous and tired; she had slept, a little, but not nearly enough. Angelus had come in and roughly awakened her every few hours, and raped her again. Each time, the beating was worse. Each time, he asked her the same question. Each time, she had said, "no".

Her body shook sometimes, all on its own. The pain in her broken arm was an insistent pounding, like a heartbeat, and getting worse. The bruise on her arm looked black now. She needed to go to the bathroom, badly; she had told Angelus a few hours before and he had just smiled and told her to piss herself. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. But she knew she couldn't hold it much longer, and she would give in to him soon...first in the small ways, and then, eventually, in the larger ways. She would piss herself, soon. And he would come in again to rape her, and when he told her to spread her legs for him like he always did, she wondered if she would have the strength to resist him, this time...the other times, she had always fought him, always made him force her...and he beat her. And she didn't know if she could take another beating...she didn't know if she was strong enough.

The funny thing was, she agreed with him. She knew this was all Drusilla's fault. She had never much liked her daft, moonstruck older sister, with her bleak poems and her babbling talk and her ridiculous porcelain dolls, never really felt a kinship with her. And she hated her now, for what she'd brought down on them. And all Angelus wanted her to do was tell Drusilla that. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Veronica knew that Drusilla and her blasphemous visions had brought all this down on them. Her father should have sent her away, sent her to that convent forever and washed his hands of her....

She knew Angelus would be there soon, to rape her, and beat her, and ask the question again...and he had said he would ask only one more time. Veronica knew if she refused to do what he bid, if she refused to disown Drusilla, he would kill her this time.

She cried, as her bladder, stressed beyond its limits, finally emptied itself. She felt her urine, warm, filling up her drawers, and soaking them through, and then soaking through her petticoats, and her dress...it puddled a dark, golden yellow on the floor beneath her, and filled the room with a putrid smell.

She wriggled her way out of the urine, and leaned her head against the wall, and cried.

She heard Angelus laughing.

She looked up. He was leaning in the doorway.

She didn't avoid his eyes, didn't flinch, didn't look away from him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Get it over with," she hissed, through cracked, swollen lips.

"You need a bath, darlin'," Angelus said. "You smell like piss. You smell like some filthy whore I found in an alley."

She didn't respond. She knew he wanted her to say something, to become angry, or outraged...to show him he was getting to her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I could let you have a bath," Angelus said. "And I could tend to your wounds, fix that broken arm up. And I could even stop hurting you. It all depends on how you answer my question."

He crouched down beside her.

"It's just four words, Veronica," Angelus said. "Say those four words to Drusilla, and I won't hurt you anymore...I won't rape you anymore."

His breath stank of blood. His eyes had nothing in them.

Veronica thought about the words. She saw herself, saying them.

You're not my sister.

The funny thing was, she wanted to say them. For what Drusilla had brought down on them all, she wanted to say them...

"Will you say the words?" Angelus said.

Veronica remembered her father, and trips to the seaside...he always took her with him, because she was his favorite. They went horseback riding together, and he had even let her hunt pheasant with him. She didn't know where her father was, now. After Darla had burst in and somehow overpowered them all and then tied them up, she'd dragged her father away...she didn't know where she'd taken him.

The last time she saw him, he was bleeding, bound and gagged and straining ferociously against his bonds, being dragged away upstairs by Darla like some captured animal...as if beating him near to death in front of his family had been sport for her...

Angelus was waiting for his answer...

Her father always smelled like cigar smoke...she always badgered him about them, those horrible obnoxious cigars, told him the things were smelly and awful, and he would always just laugh, and muss his fingers through her hair, and kiss her cheek...his moustache always tickled, and she always laughed and rolled her eyes...

Looking back on it all now, she didn't think his cigars smelled so bad.

"No," Veronica whispered.

And then she whimpered and squealed, like some captured animal, as Angelus grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of the room.

Drusilla heard a commotion in the room; it was the first sound she'd heard in hours.

She heard someone whimpering...it sounded like they were gagged. It sounded like a woman...

She moved her head against the closet door, and listened as hard as she could in the dark. A light came on in her room; she saw it through the keyhole, like a shaft of sunlight stealing through storm clouds.

She heard the chair being pulled away from the other side of the door.

A moment later, the door opened and blinding light assailed her. She shrank away from it and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Come on out, blackbird," she heard Angelus say. "I've something to show you."

Drusilla tried to look, tried to see, but the light was too bright...it hurt too much. She squinted into it as best she could.

"I bet you're having trouble walking," Angelus said. "Darla told me she had to carry you before. Let me help you, darlin'."

She felt his hands around her, gently lifting her up. The room was a hazy jumble of half-glimpsed shapes and colors. A sea of rough brown flitted through her field of vision, and was gone; she assumed it was the hardwood floor. Something flat and roughly square rushed by, and there was something blue on it. She thought it might be her bed. Then, everything was yellow, and her body brushed up against her writing desk. She suddenly felt the desk's wooden chair beneath her, and then she was sitting. Her legs felt numb. She had some feeling in her hands, but they were tingling. The room was beginning to cohere into something recognizable, the discrete objects and colors coming together now to form connected patterns, objects she could recognize. The things in the room started falling into place like puzzle pieces, as the light became tolerable. She heard the whimpering again, and looked around. She couldn't find its source yet. The square thing turned out to be her bed after all, the blue thing on it looked like a blanket, and the whimpering was coming from there.

"It'll take a moment to adjust to the light," Angelus said. He was standing in front of her, running his cold hand through her hair. "Are you thirsty, or hungry? Darla said she gave you a drink when she let you out of the closet to go to the toilet, but that was awhile ago."

"I'm...thirsty," Drusilla said. She could see much better now. She looked up at him. He was smiling down at her, and Darla was beside him now; she hadn't noticed her before. Darla held a glass of milk and a plate of cranberry muffins in her hands.

"I made this for you, precious," Darla said. "You must be absolutely famished." Darla placed the food on the writing table, and knelt down and untied Drusilla's hands. When Drusilla's hands were free she found it hard to move her arms much, and they were still tingling from her wrists down to the tips of her fingers. Darla gently took Drusilla's hands in hers, and slowly unbent Drusilla's arms, and then she rubbed them with her hands to get the blood flowing in them again. She looked up at Drusilla while she was doing this, and smiled.

Drusilla heard the whimpering sound again, and she knew it was coming from the bed. But she couldn't see the bed; Angelus was standing directly in front of her, blocking her view.

When Darla was done rubbing the life back into Drusilla's wrists and hands, she kissed her cheek.

"There. All better now," Darla said. "Now have something to eat, dear. I made you cranberry muffins."

"Cranberry muffins?" Angelus said, glancing at Darla with a hint of amusement in his dark eyes.

"I'll have you know that in my day I was an excellent cook, Angelus," Darla said. "I still know my way around a stove."

"You're always full of surprises, love," Angelus said.

Drusilla gulped down the entire glass of milk, drinking it so quickly some of it dribbled down her chin.

"Easy, precious, easy," Darla said, and dabbed her chin with a napkin. "You don't have to wolf it down. If you want more mother will bring you some, all you have to do is ask me, all right?"

"Where is my mother?" Drusilla said.

"Why, I'm right here, Dru," Darla said, pretending not to understand her question, her smile not wavering in the slightest.

"I mean...I mean...Olivia," Drusilla said. "Where is she?"

"You mean the dog?" Darla said. "She's in her room, on her leash. Would you like to take her for a walk tonight? She should go for a walk soon, or she might end up peeing on the floor. I've been walking her, but I think she'd like it if you came along."

Drusilla wanted to cry. But she just didn't have the energy anymore.

"Have a muffin, Dru," Darla said. "I know you're hungry."

Drusilla took one of the muffins from the plate, and took a tentative bite. It tasted good. She ate the rest of it almost as quickly as she'd drank the milk, and started in on another.

She heard the whimpering sound again.

"What's...who is that?" Drusilla said.

"That's what I wanted to show you," Angelus said, and chuckled, and stepped aside, so she could see...

She saw the blue thing on the bed. It was Veronica. She was wearing the same blue dress she'd had on the last time Drusilla saw her...when Darla had come in, and taken them all...

Veronica was tied up, and gagged. She was bruised and bloody; she had been beaten. Her arm looked broken. Her face was flushed, and she drooled a little out of one side of her mouth.

Drusilla had seen a fox hunt, once. Her father had brought her to see, on one of the very few occasions he had deigned to bring her anywhere with him at all. She was ten years old, and she hadn't yet told anyone of her visions, and she didn't think he hated her then like he did now. She'd rode with him, one cold, drizzly day in a covert in the countryside, watching all the horses as her father's men rode ahead and whipped the hounds onward: the horses trampled the grass with thundering hooves, their legs working like pistons; their long, beautiful, muscular necks strained against their bridles, and their breath made little puffs of smoke that rose up into the air and disappeared into the iron-gray sky. The hounds harried the poor beleaguered fox, running it ragged, coursing after it as it darted through the wet brush; everywhere it turned, the hounds were there, and the whippers-in after them, and Drusilla and her father were right behind. In the end, the hounds cornered the fox, and hemmed it in, growling and baring their fangs, and Drusilla watched the fox, as it lay there in the dirt, exhausted and defeated, and waiting for death.

It had reddish-golden fur and a white underbelly and a long, bushy tail with a white tip. The fox looked up at Drusilla...for a second, their eyes met. Its eyes were golden, with pupils like a cat...

Her father raised his rifle, and put a bullet through its right eye. Drusilla spent the rest of the day crying, and didn't say a word to him.

When their eyes met, Veronica was looking back at Drusilla the way the fox had.

Drusilla started to cry again.

"Daddy's going to put on a show for you, dear," Darla said, and put her arm around her. "Isn't it grand?"

"Aye, that it is," Angelus said, and chuckled, and unbuttoned his pants, and took out his dick. Veronica whimpered again. Drusilla looked away.

Darla wiped Drusilla's tears away, and gently turned her head back toward the bed.

"No, Dru," Darla said. "Mother wants you to see this. Be a good girl for me and watch."

Drusilla watched. She could do nothing else.

She would get to the revolver. But not now...not yet. She had to wait for her time...

"Where's Cassie?" Drusilla whispered.

"In her room, working on her latest masterpiece," Darla said. "Our Cassie's really wondrously talented, isn't she?"

"Is she all right?" Drusilla whispered.

Darla kissed her cheek again. "Not a scarlet hair out of place, precious," she said. "I locked her door. We don't want her finding her way here and seeing this. It would upset her, and our Cassie's such an excitable girl."

Drusilla watched as Angelus untied Veronica, and then took her gag off. When he took her gag off, Veronica coughed, and spit up a little blood. She didn't move her arms, even though they were free now; Drusilla knew they must have been numb, and she could see a large black bruise on the one that looked broken. They were white and colorless, save for the bruise and the spots where the rope cut through, leaving ugly red welts on her wrists, and on her ankles too. Angelus hiked Veronica's dress up to her waist, and ripped her petticoats and drawers down, and then he stood above her, with his dick, now fully erect, jutting out of his pants like a rifle. He smiled down at her, baring his teeth like the hounds.

"Spread your legs for me," he said.

Veronica looked away from him, as tears filled her eyes, and she opened her legs for him.

"No foreplay this time, eh?" he said, as he climbed on top of her, and roughly entered her. She whimpered, and started crying now. "Probably for the best. You're looking pretty rough. But at least you don't smell like piss anymore now that we cleaned you up a little. I can barely tolerate plugging your dirty hole as it is." He chuckled.

He grabbed Veronica's unbroken arm in one hand, and held it to the bed as he began thrusting into her in earnest. Veronica squealed with every thrust, and began wailing and screaming as she cried. Angelus chuckled again.

Drusilla closed her eyes, as her tears flowed down her cheeks.

"I said I want you to watch, Dru," she heard Darla whispering in her ear. "Veronica was a bad girl, so she's being punished. You and Cassie have been very good girls so far...I don't want that to change."

Fear knifed through Drusilla's stomach when Darla mentioned Cassandra. She opened her eyes, and made herself look at Veronica again.

Darla took Drusilla's hand as they watched Angelus raping Veronica, as if they were two ladies watching a cricket match.

Angelus took his time. He raped Veronica for a full half hour, while Darla held Drusilla's hand, and made her watch.

The worst thing about it, Drusilla thought, was that by the end, it had gotten boring. She'd cried throughout the entire ordeal, but the initial intensity of emotion she'd felt when she first saw her sister being violated was too difficult to keep up; it had exhausted her after only a little while. Angelus was brutal with Veronica, relishing her pain and reveling in her tears, and to Drusilla it seemed to go on forever, and by the end, she'd felt like all the emotion she could possibly feel, all the tears she could possibly spill, had been wrung out of her...she didn't think she had anything left to give.

Veronica didn't once look back at her.

But then Angelus looked back at Drusilla, as if he had sensed what she was thinking...and sprang one final surprise.

His face changed to vampire form, and he smiled...

...And he sank his fangs into Veronica's neck, and tore her throat out in front of Drusilla's eyes.

Blood exploded from Veronica's neck like a geyser, and her body spasmed. She made a small gurgling sound, and then she died.

Darla clapped and laughed. Drusilla screamed. The moment she did, Darla covered her mouth with her hand.

"We wouldn't want to alarm Cassie, dear," Darla said.

Drusilla kept screaming under Darla's hand anyway. She screamed, and screamed, screamed until she was out of breath, screamed until her throat burned...screamed until there was nothing left in her, until the revulsion and the horror and the despair she felt were no longer inside her, no longer in her heart, but out of her now, out in the room, polluting the air like those terrible reeking plumes of smoke the factories spewed into the sky...

When it was all outside of her, Drusilla caught her breath, and cried.

Darla hugged her.

"It's all right, precious, it's all right," Darla cooed in her ear. "The bad girl's gone, and all we have now are our two beautiful daughters. Our two beautiful daughters."

Drusilla tried to pull away but Darla's grip was strong as steel. She wailed into Darla's dress, as Darla held her close, and wouldn't let her pull away.

"Mother's here now," Darla whispered. "Mother's here."

After Drusilla had calmed down a little, Darla let go of her, and made her look at her sister's corpse. Drusilla tried not to, but Darla said, "Just one little peek, precious, and then you won't have to look anymore, all right?"

Drusilla opened her eyes, for just a second, and saw what was left of her sister. Veronica was staring up at the ceiling, her skin white as snow, her neck covered with blood, gathering in thick, dark pools above her breasts. Her blue eyes were flat and dull. Her mouth was open, her last screams frozen there. She didn't look like Veronica anymore; her face looked like a mask. She lay still.

"All right. That's enough," Darla said, and kissed Drusilla's cheek. "You're a good girl, Dru. You and Cassie are my good girls. Now put your hands behind your back for me, and then you can go give Daddy a kiss goodnight."

Drusilla put her hands behind her back. Darla took the rope from the writing desk and tied them again, careful, like the last time, not to make the ropes too tight. Then she helped Drusilla up, and led her back to the closet. Angelus joined them there. His face was still in vampire form, and it mocked Drusilla, leered down at her like a demon. His mouth was caked with Veronica's blood. Drusilla looked away from him.

"Look at me, darlin'," Angelus said.

Drusilla looked at him. She felt Darla's cold hand running through her hair.

"I raped your sister," Angelus said. "I raped her and then I killed her. She was a virgin, you know. The first time I raped her last night, she was so tight she screamed as I stuffed it into her. Her little cunny loosened up some after that but she was always pretty tight; it hurt her every time. Made her bleed every time, even after I took her cherry."

Drusilla tried to look away from him again, but she couldn't...he held her in his eyes...she was cornered, run to ground...like a fox.

"And all the things I did to her? They were your fault," Angelus said, and smiled. "You saw them in your blasphemous visions, you brought them down on poor Veronica. Because you hated her, didn't you?"

"No, no..." Drusilla whimpered, and shook her head, and started crying again. "I didn't...I loved my sister."

"You hated her, you hate the old man too. The only one you really give a fig about is Cassie."

His eyes held Drusilla...she tried to look away, but she couldn't.

"You killed Veronica, Dru," Angelus said. "Your hatred killed her. Your depravity killed her. You brought me here to kill her because you wanted her dead. You wanted to escape this house, escape this family, this life, and you were willing to kill to do it. You killed Veronica and you're gonna kill the rest too...all save Cassie. You'll protect her, because even a monstrous thing like you can feel love...you love Cassie. You don't want to harm a hair on her pretty little head, so I won't either. You brought me here, Dru. I'm only doing what you want, after all."

He laughed.

"I'm your humble servant, darlin'," he said, still laughing, and bowed to her.

Drusilla held her head in her hands, and shook, and nearly collapsed; Angelus grabbed her arm, and held her up. Darla caressed her hair.

"Darlin'," Angelus whispered, and caressed Drusilla's cheek, and tilted her chin, so she was looking up at him...so his eyes could hunt her down, and bring her to bay. His face looked normal again, now...handsome. But he still had Veronica's blood on his lips.

"The old man and the dog and Veronica never cared for you," he said. "But Darla and I do."

He wiped her tears away. His hand was gentle.

"We're your family now, blackbird," Angelus said.

She couldn't look away from him. She felt like she was collapsing inside, falling...his gaze, and the nothingness it contained, was a black abyss now, and Drusilla felt herself being sucked down into it...she felt herself falling into endless cold, endless dark...

"Kiss Daddy goodnight, now," Angelus said.

"Be a good girl, Dru," Darla said. "Give your father a kiss goodnight. Show us that you and Cassie are our good girls, and you don't need to be punished. It would be so terrible if Cassie had to be punished, wouldn't it?"

Drusilla wanted to close her eyes...but she couldn't. Angelus still held her, in his eyes...

Drusilla kissed him. He kissed her back, softly. His lips tasted like blood.

"Good night, blackbird," Angelus said, and gently lifted Drusilla in his arms, and set her down in the closet, and shut the door.

Drusilla heard the chair being propped against the closet door again. She heard Angelus and Darla laughing.

"I'm a damned rooster over here," she heard Angelus say.

"Let me take care of that," she heard Darla say. "And you better not play any of your malicious games with me this time. I've been very supportive of this over-complicated scheme of yours and I expect to be treated like a lady."

"Of course, love," she heard Angelus say. "The finest lady in the world."

The light went out in the room outside, snuffing out the gossamer-thin beam that stole into the closet through the keyhole, and Drusilla heard the bedroom door close. She was alone again...the closet was black as pitch again.

Darkness surrounded Drusilla again...

She felt it crawling over her skin, like a living thing now. It insinuated itself into her.

She felt it filling her up.

Angel stood with Darla...or the ghost of Darla, or the illusion of Darla...in a room he used as a study. She'd said she was tired of the jasmine flowers, tired of being surrounded by Buffy's scent, and she wanted to go somewhere else. The walls and floor and ceiling of the room were cold granite, but Angel liked the spartan quality it had. It lent itself to thinking...to considering things carefully. He'd put some furniture in there; a leather couch and leather chairs and an antique mahogany desk, and a bookcase that had once been in Theodore Roosevelt's house. It had vases and statuettes and old books and candles on the shelves, things Angel had collected in his travels; he liked collecting things now. He'd spent decades living on the streets with nothing, subsisting on rats; shortly after that he'd spent nearly a century in a hell dimension. It gave him an urge to have things. So he collected knick-knacks. The room was dim, lit by a brass chandelier in the shape of a crown, the light turned down low. There was a big fireplace, with a fire going now, and an alabaster statue of Aphrodite stood in a corner.

"You always did have fabulous taste, Angelus," Darla said. "I taught you well."

She wasn't wearing the cheerleader outfit anymore; it had suddenly changed as they walked into the room. Now she was wearing a simple black dress, and nothing else. She looked beautiful in it.

She sat on the couch. Angel thought it was strange, watching her sit; for a moment she didn't seem to be touching the cushions. She almost seemed like an image, a projection of a person, rather than a person. But Angel supposed the rules were different for ghosts...or whatever she was.

"Sit with me," Darla said, and smiled.

He sat next to her. She crossed her legs. She wore nothing else other than the dress; she was barefoot. She had great legs; she always had. He felt an old, familiar longing.

Darla...what are you doing here?" Angel said. "I saw Leah Maguire tonight, just before you arrived. You remember her?"

"Hmm...no, I don't think I recall her," Darla said. "She was a girl you killed, of course? The name sounds Scottish."

"You don't remember?"

"Why should I?" Darla said, and giggled, and looked at him like he was just slightly out of his mind. "She was food. She was a rabbit."

"We raped her," Angel said. "The same night I first saw Dru."

"Ah, yes, now I remember. The girl looked like Little Red Riding Hood. And you took a fancy to her, so I brought her home for you and you fucked her up the ass and killed her."

Angel looked away from her, toward the fireplace.

"Or perhaps you'd like to remember it some other way?" Darla said, and laughed. "How about...you took her out for a romantic evening, and gave her flowers, and when she offered herself to you, like all the girls do, you refused because you're so honorable and noble and heroic, and you gave her only a single, chaste kiss. Better?"

Angel looked at the fire.

"Perhaps we could embellish this fairy tale further," Darla said. "Perhaps after the chaste kiss, you two embarked upon an epic romance. You swept her off her feet, and she swooned for you. All the girls do; none of them can resist my darling boy."

Darla got up, and paced around the room.

"Perhaps we could even replace Leah in this fairy tale with a new character," Darla said. "How about...a naive young girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. A pretty blonde cheerleader." Darla stopped in front of the statue of Aphrodite, and leaned against it, and smiled down at Angel...smiled like a wolf.

"And the cheerleader, who also happens to be a Slayer, meets my darling boy, and falls under his spell...like all the girls do," Darla said. "Like I did. And even when she found out he was a vampire, the thing she was put here to destroy, she couldn't resist him...and they fell in love. What a wonderful fairy tale."

"It's not a fairy tale," Angel said, still looking at the fire.

"Ah, but it is, Angelus," Darla said. "Not from her perspective of course. I have no doubt that Buffy loved you, and gave you what there was of her; gave you whatever it is a sixteen-year old blonde twit who knows nothing about life or the world could possibly have to offer. Something meager and thin and cold, I'd think, compared to what we had. We burned."

Angel looked at her.

"You didn't know her," Angel said. "You don't know what she had to give. She loved me."

"Past tense?" Darla said, her eyes stabbing into him, her smile distorted into a cruel leer. "Aw, baby. Is the fairy tale over already?"

Angel looked away from her, into the fire again.

"Did you become bored with her, Angelus? Or did she leave?"

He looked into the fire, and didn't respond.

"She left," Darla said. "Well I'll say this much for the cheerleader; she may be the first woman in history to ever leave you first. How does it feel? Are you absolutely heartbroken that you won't be able to take her to the prom? Who's the next girl? Have you picked her out yet? How about that new Slayer, Faith? Now she's interesting. Not all prissy and prim and pipe-up-the-ass proper like the cheerleader. She reminds me of myself, awhile ago...I bet she could show you some things in the bedroom."

"I love Buffy," Angel said.

Darla laughed.

"Love?" she said. "Love? That soul really has made you dim-witted. You don't love her, you never did. Oh, you were smitten with her for awhile. She was new, for awhile, a fresh young thing. And I suppose you were fond of her, in your way, though I shudder to think what you and her could possibly have talked about. Music videos, perhaps? Hairstyling tips?"

Angel looked at her again, met her eyes...looked into her nothingness.

"Remember Cassandra?" Darla said. "I wanted her. She was a little thing, but she made me happy. And you denied her to me."

She sat on the couch with him again, and looked into the fire.

"I wondered about that, about why you did that to me, for a long time afterwards. Years," Darla said. "Giving me Cassie wouldn't have interfered with your plans for Dru. You could've let me have her and still broken Dru. But you didn't. You arranged your plan to take Cassie from me. At first I thought you did it because you were jealous...you were my lover but you were also my son, and maybe you didn't want me to have a daughter; maybe you didn't want to share me with anyone else. But that wasn't it. Eventually I realized the answer was much simpler than that. You took Cassie from me because you wanted to hurt me."

She was right, Angel knew.

"She made me happy, happy in a way I had never been," Darla said. "And you relished the thought of hurting me in a way I hadn't been hurt before. So you did. Because, although you doted on me and followed me, although I was always in your thoughts, although you were a devoted son and an ardent lover, you never really loved me. You were fond of me, as you were fond of the cheerleader. But not enough to keep from hurting me...or her. You knew taking her cherry might activate your curse and you didn't care. So you took her. Because that's what you do, Angelus. You take what you want. It's what you always do."

"I didn't know you felt so close to Cassandra," Angel said.

"Oh, I didn't love her, or even care about her really," Darla said. "But I was very fond of her, she made me happy, and I would have cared about her, cared for her, perhaps even loved her, in time. You never gave me a chance."

"I'm sorry," Angel said.

"Oh, please," Darla said, and got up again, and moved to the fire. "Grow a dick, dear. If I was alive I might throw myself in the fire and have done with it rather than have to listen to anymore of your craven-hearted mewling."

She looked down into the fire. A tear ran down her cheek.

"You're grown cold, Angelus," Darla said. "And it breaks my heart."

He stood up, and moved beside her.

"Did you ever love me, my angel, even a little?" she said, crying now. "Did you ever care for me?"

"I...cared for you," he said, and tried to wipe her tears away. His hand went through her.

"I want you to hold me and you can't," Darla said. "Doesn't matter anyway. You don't love me. I thought...for years I thought that perhaps you could never love. That the darkness in you, the darkness that caught my eye, was too strong even for me to live in. That you simply didn't have it in you to love...but you did. You just didn't love me. I should've seen it. I should've seen it...when you were with her, the look in your eyes...I should've realized then who it was you truly loved...who you still love, even now."

"Buffy," Angel said. "I love Buffy."

Darla smiled, as she cried.

"No," she said. "And Buffy doesn't love you...not anymore."

"It's a dangerous game you're playing with Drusilla, Angelus," Darla said. "You could lose her. We could lose them both."

Darla lay in Angelus' arms. They were naked together on the couch in the parlor. They had dumped Veronica's body in the horse stable along with the bodies of the servants and then they had come back in and had some spectacular fucking, and Darla was content now: Angelus had given it to her hard and painfully, hurting her just the way she liked.

"Both?" Angelus said. "You're not gettin' attached to that little red-headed thing, are you? Girl's the runt of the litter."

"Don't say that," Darla said.

"She's weak, Darla. She's the weakest of the whole lot, she can't even look at us. She's hiding inside herself, somewhere."

"No. I mean, don't say I'm getting attached." She turned over, and caressed his long, dark hair, and smiled. "I've only ever gotten attached to one person."

"Aye, and a drunken bore he was, for a fact. You should've been more careful, darlin'. Fallin' for an Irish rogue like me."

"You have your charms," Darla murmured, and kissed him.

"Well I have heard it told I've somewhat of a way with the ladies," Angelus said.

"Mmm, you do, my angel. You can see right through us...penetrate us, right through to our hearts."

"I penetrate you in other ways too. Penetratin's rather my thing."

"Ah, now there's the drunken bore who made me swoon a century ago," Darla said, and giggled. "I've been wondering where he'd got to. I was worried he might have gotten buried. Lost beneath a veneer of gentility. That would have been tragic; to become so distastefully common. London has a way of corrupting people...even the best. Even the very worst."

"God damned Englishmen," Angelus growled. "Napoleon should've just invaded the damn island and had done with it."

"Well the food would have been better at least. But getting back to my point, do you really think it wise to allow Dru to escape? She's not broken yet, I can see she's still fighting us. The moment she realizes she can leave that closet then she will."

"And we could lose her. That's what makes the game, darlin'. Gotta be some risk or it's not a game worth playin', now is it?"

"She and Cassie are very close. And I wouldn't like it if I lost Cassie, Angelus."

"You do have a thing for that girl. I could tell you were putting a lot of extra effort in with her. What do you see in her?"

"She's...fragile," Darla said. "I like her fragility; she's a soft, beautiful little thing. I want her. You want Drusilla. I want Cassie."

He turned and looked curiously at her. She always could surprise him...

"You're serious, aren't you?" he said. "You really want to turn that girl. Spend eternity with her."

"I always wanted a daughter, when I was in Virginia," she said. "And she feels like a daughter, for some reason... she smells like a daughter to me. And besides, it can only help with Drusilla, she'd be lonely without her sister."

"More than that, if I don't kill Cassie I can use her to get what I want from Dru, break her down faster. Dru's trying to protect her...our dear Cassie's the most important thing to her. More important even than her own life. I can use that, when Dru escapes from the closet."

A thought occurred to Angelus...he knew Cassandra was more important to his plan than any other member of the family, and he'd been trying to determine how best to use her. He had planned to force Cassandra to reject Drusilla, but now he realized that doing just the opposite could be even more effective...

He smiled. He saw it all in front of him, saw the endgame now. He saw all the moves and countermoves; like an expert chess player, he was thinking a dozen moves ahead.

He knew Darla would be hurt, and furious with him. That would make it even better. It had been awhile since he had really hurt her...since he had hurt her in a way that was really special.

"So you still intend to allow her to escape?" Darla said. "It's a risk, Cassie or no. What about that gun? If Dru knows about it..."

"Don't you worry your pretty head about that," Angelus said, and smiled his wolfish smile. "It's all part of the plan."

Drusilla managed to sleep, for awhile, in the closet. She'd cried so much and for so long that it exhausted her, left her utterly spent. She slept, and dreamed.

She dreamed of Veronica...

She dreamed Veronica was in the closet with her. They were lying together, curled up side by side in the dark. Veronica's neck was bloody, and her skin was pale. But her eyes...her eyes burned.

"You did this," Veronica said.

For some reason, even though the closet was completely dark, Drusilla could see Veronica perfectly. Veronica had lost two of her front teeth, and her arm was broken, and her lips were swollen. When Veronica talked, her voice came out in a hiss.

"I'm sorry," Drusilla whispered.

"You're the Devil's spawn, Drusilla," Veronica said.

Drusilla started crying, and turned away from her.

"Father should have sent you away," Veronica said, and grabbed Drusilla by the neck with hands like claws, wrenching her head around and forcing her to look at her, to look into her burning eyes.

Veronica wrapped her legs around Drusilla, coiling them around her body like a snake and holding her fast. When Drusilla looked at her again, Veronica had a face like a demon's, and long, pointed teeth.

"You're not my sister," Veronica said.

And Drusilla could suddenly hear other voices too...dozens of voices... whispering...

Veronica smiled like a wolf...like Angelus. Drusilla screamed...

And the other voices, the dozens, the hundreds of voices, screamed and cackled and gibbered and hissed at Drusilla, mocking her...

"You belong to the Devil, you always have," Veronica whispered, but Drusilla could barely hear her now over the other whispers, the hundreds of whispers that filled the little black closet until she thought it would burst. "And he has sent his dark angel to take you to him, to drag you down to Hell where you belong."

"No...NO!" Drusilla screamed, and shook her head. "I'm good, I'm good...I don't, I don't, I don't, I don't..."

"Of course you belong in Hell," Veronica said, her voice a single distant whisper nearly lost in the cacophony of whispers assaulting Drusilla's ears. "You're there right now. Can you not hear the voices? The voices of the damned, whispering in your ear? All those damned souls, they're calling out to you, Drusilla...they know you belong with them."

Veronica grabbed Drusilla's hair in one long claw, and held her still. She growled at Drusilla, as Drusilla shrank away from her, and tried to escape...but there was nowhere to go...

"They're calling," Veronica snarled, and smiled, showing Drusilla her fangs, as the voices all turned to animal sounds now, snarling and growling and roaring. "They're calling..."

Veronica sank her teeth into Drusilla's neck, as Drusilla screamed...

Angel sat on the granite bench in the courtyard again, looking up at the stars, surrounded by jasmine. He'd gone back to the courtyard after Darla left him. He didn't want to be alone, and he didn't feel so alone when he was in the courtyard. He felt like he was part of the world, when he was there; part of the living world, instead of some dead thing; a walking corpse who should have been left rotting in the earth more than two-hundred years before.

Darla had simply disappeared, like Leah had. When Angel had pressed her for answers, asked her what she was really doing there and what she wanted, she had simply said, "For you to see."

Then she had smiled, with tears in her eyes, and disappeared.

So Angel sat in the courtyard now, surrounded by jasmine, and looked up at the stars.

He wondered where Buffy was. He wondered if she had finally left him.

"Run away, count to ten," a woman's voice sang.

It was a sweet voice; a jasmine voice. It echoed softly through the black night air, a whisper on honey wings, flitting around the courtyard and lingering a moment, before it flew away on the breeze.

Angel knew the voice.

Drusilla stepped out of the darkness, a wolf stalking toward him.

"I'm looking for you again," she sang, and smiled her little girl's smile, and looked down at him. Angel couldn't see worlds anymore, in those ice-blue eyes; they had been hollowed out. The light in them had been extinguished. But he still thought they were beautiful.

Drusilla was wearing a pretty red satin dress, and long, black gloves. Angel had bought the dress for her, a few months after he'd broken her and killed her and turned her...when he was still soulless...when he was Angelus.

Angel remembered they had passed a dressmaker's shop in Marseille, and Drusilla had seen the dress in the window, and just had to have it...

"Please, Daddy?" she had said. She always looked beautiful in red. And he never could say no to her.

"Hello, Dru," Angel said. Her scent came to him. She was there, physically. But her scent hadn't been there a moment before. He hadn't heard her approach. Like Leah and Darla, she had simply, suddenly just appeared...

"I missed you, Daddy," Drusilla said.

Drusilla woke up in the closet, screaming hysterically. For a long while, all she could hear were her own screams...

Eventually, she forced herself to calm down. Screaming wouldn't help...it wouldn't help Cassie.

Then, she thought she heard voices...

First, just a few...then dozens, hundreds...

Whispering...

Calling to her.

Drusilla had been in the closet for sixteen days.

Drusilla didn't know that. She had lost track of time...lost herself in the dark, and the whispers...

But Angelus knew. He knew exactly how long he'd kept Drusilla in the closet; he kept careful track of the time, as he sat on the other side of the door throughout the long days and all through the nights, listening to her. He liked listening to her; he liked being with her. She had the most beautiful voice, and the most beautiful scent: she smelled like roses. The only drawback to keeping her in the closet was that he couldn't see her eyes; the light in them was exquisite. He wanted to devour that light...take it into his darkness and keep it for himself, forever.

Sometimes Drusilla prayed, and sometimes she screamed, and sometimes she cried...and sometimes she came back to herself, for a little while, and tried to be strong.

That's what she was doing now. Angelus smiled. They never lasted long, these moments of strength; but they were entertaining to listen to...

"Not real," Drusilla whispered. "None of you...you're not...you're not real. I won't listen. Cassie. Cassie. Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie Cassie."

Angelus took Drusilla out of the closet three times a day, for a little while, to eat and bathe and use the bathroom. It was about time for her bath now.

But today would be special: today began the next phase of his plan.

"You're not," he heard Drusilla whispering again. "I won't hear you. You're all trying to confuse me. You're not real. Shut up, Miss Edith! SHUT UP! SHUT UUUUUUUUUUPPPPPPPPP!!"

She started banging her head against the door after that, and Angelus heard her sobbing.

It had a strange effect on him. He didn't know what the feeling was that went through his stomach, whenever he heard her sobbing...he didn't recognize it, and could never think of words to describe it. He just knew it always annoyed him. He frowned.

Eventually, Drusilla stopped banging her head against the door. It was a good thing; he would've had to stop her because he didn't want her to hurt herself, and that wasn't the tone he wanted to set for their encounter today.

"Cassie," Drusilla whispered. "Red robin...they're not real. None of them are real and I won't let them hurt you. Big sister will stop them."

"Of course I'm real," Angelus whispered.

He felt Drusilla stiffen; felt her eyes, searching him out in the darkness. He felt her fear...smelled it. Not just fear. Her heart rate was speeding up now, too. In anticipation. Sometimes when he talked to her, she knew that meant she'd be let out of the closet for awhile. Not for too long...just a little while. But Angelus knew Drusilla lived for those moments now.

"How are you, darlin'?" Angelus said, to the door. "How would you like to leave that closet for a spell?"

"I'd...like that," Drusilla said, to the darkness.

He noticed she always seemed stronger, after he talked to her; more focused. As if he were her tether to the real world. He found that interesting. On the one hand, it wasn't what he'd had in mind for her and it was annoying; it could potentially jeopardize his plans for her. On the other hand, part of him...the part he didn't understand, the part with the strange feelings he couldn't put words to...was pleased by it.

"I'd like to see Cassie," Drusilla said. "Could I...please? Please?"

"Sure, blackbird," Angelus said. "Anything for my girl."

In the closet, in the dark, tears filled Drusilla's eyes, and she smiled.

She heard the chair being moved away from the closet door.

The door opened. Light assailed her. She blocked her eyes.

"Thank you," Drusilla whispered, as the tears ran down her cheeks. "Thank you."

She couldn't see. It always took her eyes awhile to adjust. Angelus touched her cheek, and she leaned against him. Whenever he opened the door, she always leaned against him, and cried...

They always remained like that for a time, when he first opened the closet door. Being in the dark, alone, the first thing she needed was to feel like she was part of the world again...to touch someone. He always let her lean against him. It was always the first thing she did.

She was crying now. He wiped her tears away, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the light.

Eventually, she looked up at him. He smiled down at her.

"Cassie misses you, blackbird," Angelus said, and began untying her, starting with her ankles. "We all miss you...the whole family."

Angelus gently massaged her ankles after he untied them, until Drusilla felt life returning to them.

"Is Cassie all right?" Drusilla asked, as Angelus untied her wrists.

"Of course," Angelus said. "She's part of our family. We'd never hurt our little Cassie."

"Can I go to see her now?" Drusilla said.

"Well, I think you'll want your bath first, love," Angelus said, and untied her wrists, and started massaging them. "And you must be hungry again too. And after that, Mr. Morgan wants to see you. You have a busy day ahead today."

"He wants to see me?" Drusilla said. "My fath--"

She looked down at the floor.

"I mean...Mr. Morgan?" she said. "He wants to see me?"

Angelus smiled. Drusilla hadn't called him her father yet, but she had stopped calling Mr. Morgan her father at least, and she had stopped calling Olivia her mother too, because Angelus and Darla had told her not to. She was making progress.

"Let's get you taken care of, Dru," Angelus said. "All soft and clean and pretty, with your hair done just the way you like it. And then you can have something to eat, and we'll have a visit with Mr. Morgan. And then we'll see Cassie after."

"All right," Drusilla said.

Angelus massaged her wrists for a little while longer, and when Drusilla felt she could move them again, he took her hand and gently stood her up. He walked her out of the room, into the bathroom at the other end of the hall. There was a bath already drawn; the water was hot. There was a dress, petticoats, a corset and underwear, on a hanger on the doorknob.

Angelus shut the bathroom door behind them, and they stood together in the little room.

"Well, the water's not gonna stay hot forever darlin'," Angelus said, and smiled like a wolf, showing her all his teeth.

"I...need to undress," Drusilla said. "You can't be here."

It was the same every time. He always stayed with her while she bathed and she always protested. He allowed her some things, some say in how she was treated. But some things he refused her. He always made her undress in front of him, and he always bathed her.

"Of course I can, Dru," Angelus said. "I'm your father. No secrets between us."

She looked up at him. She looked over at the bathtub. She looked down at the floor.

"Get undressed, Dru," Angelus said. "I'll wash your back. You like when I wash your back."

Drusilla looked at herself in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked thin, and pale, and haggard. Angelus stood behind her, and cast no reflection. Drusilla had long since ceased to be surprised by that, or to wonder what it meant. She knew he was a demon, sent to take her to Hell.

Angelus touched her hair, and caressed her neck, and leaned in close to her. He ran his hands across her shoulders. His hands were cold, but his touch was gentle and Drusilla found herself enjoying his caress. She tried to pull away. But she couldn't; he was too strong. He was always too strong. He controlled her.

He turned her around, and kissed her. His lips were soft, and warm.

She blushed, and looked away from him.

Angelus smiled. She always blushed, every time, when he kissed her.

He slipped her dress off her shoulders. She held it in place, and didn't let it fall, and looked down at the floor.

"Please don't," she whispered.

He turned her toward him, and raised her chin, and made her look at him. He held her in his eyes.

Drusilla thought he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Angelus moved his hand up her leg, caressing it, and lifting her dress.

"Please," Drusilla whispered, and grabbed his hand. She tried to look away from him, but she couldn't...his eyes held her fast.

He was beautiful...the kind of man she had always fantasized about.

She made herself think about Veronica, and what he did to her. She made herself think about how ugly he had looked then.

"No more hemmin' and hawin' now, Dru," Angelus said, and took her hands in his. Her dress fell to the floor, and she stood before him in her petticoat, blushing. "Time for your bath, precious. Get undressed for me."

She knew she had no choice. She knew he'd force her, if she didn't comply. And they had Cassie.

He knew she'd get undressed for him. She did it every time. The protestations, they were just part of the dance.

She took down her petticoat, and her under-petticoat, slipping them slowly down over her knees and to her feet, as she blushed.

She stood before him in her corset now, and looked down at the floor .

"I can't...do the laces all myself," she said.

"I know, precious, let me help with that," Angelus said, and turned her around, and unlaced her corset in back. It was a red corset; Angelus thought the color looked perfect on Drusilla.

Drusilla was shaking a little, as he undid her corset. She always shook a little. Usually it was entertaining, but he wanted her relaxed today. She needed to begin to trust him, today.

He kissed her neck.

"You London girls do require a bit of unwrapping," he said.

He noticed Drusilla smile, just for a second.

"This corset is very pretty on you, Dru," he said. "You look beautiful in red. That's why I picked it out for you."

When he had her corset off, he turned her around, and lifted her chemise. She raised her arms, and he lifted it over her head. She covered her breasts, standing before him in only her drawers now, and didn't look at him.

Her nipples were hard; he knew she didn't want him to see.

He took her hands in his, and kissed her. This time, he felt her respond; he felt her kissing him back.

He released her hands, and held them down at her waist. He kissed her again, and cupped her breasts in his hands, as she looked at the floor, blushing again.

"Look at me," he said.

She looked at him. He gently pulled down her drawers, kneeling down in front of her as he slipped them off her feet. He looked up at her and smiled, as she stood naked in front of him.

"I can be gentle, Drusilla," he said, as he stood up and put his arms around her. "I want to be gentle, with you."

She nodded. She made herself think about what he did to Veronica.

His hands cupped her breasts again. Her nipples were hard and she felt herself becoming wet, between her legs. Her body was betraying her. She tried to look away from him but his eyes held her again...

"But first your bath," he said, and lifted her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all, and gently set her down in the tub.

It was always embarrassing for Drusilla at first, having to bathe herself while he watched. But it was just one more thing to get through every day...one more obstacle to surmount in order to see Cassie...

He washed her back, and his hands were gentle and his touch was pleasing on her skin. He washed her feet, and smiled.

He didn't speak. He helped her bathe, and smiled, and he was gentle, even tender with her; and he was handsome, and part of her wanted him to kiss her again.

She had never been with a man before, and she found that her body was continually betraying her now; it thrilled to his touch. It had been betraying her more and more with him, every day. She felt like she was tingling. She felt flushed, and her heart felt like it would explode right out of her chest. Every place he touched her, she felt warm and full, like she was about to burst, like she had been in a cocoon her whole life and she was finally about to break free of it. She felt the blood beneath her skin, pulsing through her.

When she had finished bathing, he lifted her out of the tub, and dried her off. When she reached for the clean underwear on the hanger, he shook his head, and lifted her up in his arms again.

"But...Cassie," Drusilla whispered.

"Afterwards," Angelus whispered, and kissed her, and carried her naked back to her bedroom.

As she lay naked on her bed, watching Angelus undress in front of her, Drusilla was calm.

They'd done this before. Every day, he brought her naked back to the bed after her bath, before he dressed her and put her back in the closet.

Every day, he left it up to her. Every day, she refused him.

But she had seen it, in her vision...she had seen the moment, and she knew it was going to happen eventually.

Angelus was going to take her, eventually; take her virginity, in the same bed he raped her sister on. There were clean sheets on the bed now at least.

After a moment he stood naked in front of her, and his body was pleasing to the eye as always, muscular and well-proportioned. But, lying on the same bed he'd violated and murdered Veronica on, Drusilla no longer felt warm, no longer felt flushed. Her body didn't tingle. She just felt tired.

She wasn't scared of him, of this; she wasn't apprehensive. She knew it was going to happen eventually and she had resigned herself to it, during all those long, lonely days in the closet. It was simply one more thing she would need to survive, one more ordeal to get through to see Cassie.

In all her visions, Cassie was always alive. She prayed that meant Angelus and Darla would be true to their word, and let Cassie live as long as she did everything they said.

She would be strong. She would do everything she needed to do to get to see Cassie, and protect her...

She would be strong...

She heard a whisper.

And then another...and another...

She looked around the room. She saw Angelus, smiling down at her. She saw her porcelain dolls behind him, smiling down at her from their shelves...

The dolls were whispering to her.

They were making demonic faces and saying terrible things, and calling Drusilla evil, and wicked; a harlot, a slut, a whore. A betrayer of her family...

Angelus laid himself on top of her, and began gently kissing her. She stayed calm, because she knew she had to; she knew she had to be everything he wanted her to be. She hardly noticed his kisses anyway; the whispers were getting louder. The dolls were all laughing at her now, telling her she deserved to be raped for what she had done, for what she had brought down on her family...

Drusilla closed her eyes, and tried not to think about the whispers. They weren't real.

Angelus kissed her neck.

But the whispers were getting louder...

"You belong with me, blackbird," Drusilla could just barely hear Angelus saying, as she shook her head, and squeezed her eyes shut tight, and tried not to listen to the whispers...

Whore, the whispers said.

Judas, the whispers said.

Evil, the whispers said.

"No...no..." Drusilla whimpered. She knew the whispers weren't real, they couldn't be real...

We're coming to take you to Hell with us, the whispers said.

She felt Angelus now, hard against her, between her legs...

"No..." Drusilla whispered, and couldn't even hear herself amidst the other whispers filling the room. She started to cry...

"Look at me, blackbird," Angelus said. "Look in my eyes."

She looked up at him.

And he held her in his eyes...

And the whispers went away.

The room was quiet, as she looked up at him...stared into his nothingness.

"You belong with me, blackbird," he said. "You belong with me, love. You always did."

The room was quiet, but for his voice. He caressed her cheek. She felt his cock against her. He was big; she had never been with a man before and she hoped it wouldn't hurt too much, when it eventually happened...she hoped he would be gentle with her, like he'd said. She hoped he'd give her a choice today, like he'd always done before.

They looked into each other's eyes. His eyes were dark and beautiful, and empty. But Drusilla thought she could lose herself in them...she thought she could remain in them, and be protected. As long as he held her in his eyes, the whispers couldn't get through. She felt them, felt the whispers trying to get through to her ears, but they couldn't reach her now. She was focused on him...his eyes drew her in and held her, concentrated all of her in him, and when she was in him the whispers couldn't get through. She felt disconnected from herself when he drew her into his eyes, and held her there; she felt like she was melting away into him...a weak, flickering candle in a vast, endless night. She didn't know why exactly, why the whispers couldn't reach her when she was with him...when she was in him. She only knew that he protected her.

"Say it," he said.

He kissed her again. His lips felt soft, and warm.

"Say it, blackbird," he said.

"I belong with you," Drusilla whispered, as tears fell down her cheeks.

He smiled, and kissed her again...

She kissed him back.

"Is today our day, Dru?" Angelus said. "Is today our day?"

She shook her head, as Angelus knew she would.

Then he played his card.

"Cassie misses you," he said. "Are you excited about seeing her tonight?"

Drusilla nodded.

"How would you like to see Cassie every day from now on?" he said.

"See her...every day?" Drusilla whispered.

"She misses you, love," Angelus said, and stroked her hair. "We all do. Darla and I were thinkin' we should take dinner together from now on, the whole family right and proper. Me and Darla and you and Cassie, every night. Would you like that?"

She nodded, and tears fell down her cheeks.

Angelus was always gentle, with Drusilla. He kissed her again, and took in her rosy scent, and held her in his eyes. She was still afraid of him, but she responded now, when he kissed her; she responded a little more each day, and lately she had been kissing him back. Hesitantly at first; soft, little pecks, but as the minutes passed now she became more relaxed. He touched her tongue with his, and her tongue retreated from his at first, but eventually it came out of hiding, and brushed against his, lightly flicking it. Her nipples were hard under his soft touch, and her body was warm...

Angelus liked her scent. He liked her blue eyes locked on his; he liked the light in them. She was still tense, her body stiff underneath him, but, little by little, her body was beginning to adjust to his; she was beginning to soften for him now, to yield. One of her hands, soft as silk, light as a bird's wing, ran lightly down his arm, stroked the hard planes of muscle there where his triceps ran down toward the elbow.

He kissed her neck again, and her breath was warm on his cheek. Darla never felt warm that way. She was beautiful but she was cold...Drusilla was warm.

But she was still crying. Tears rolled down her cheeks unceasingly, as she responded to him; as her body softened and grew flushed beneath him. Her face was wet, but her most intimate place, the place he was up against now, was dry. With other girls, he simply forced his way in. He didn't want to do that with Drusilla, so he always asked her; always gave her a choice. She always said no.

"You'll need to be a good girl for Daddy, if you want to see Cassie every day," Angelus said.

"What...must I do?" Drusilla whispered.

He took each of her nipples in his mouth, and gently sucked them, taking his time with each one. Drusilla closed her eyes, and let out a moan, like a bird trilling. It was soft, almost imperceptible, but Angelus had excellent hearing. He kissed her hard, flat stomach, and ran his fingers down her thighs. They were lean and muscular, like Veronica's, but they were pale; Drusilla's complexion was sickly. Veronica was ruddy and tanned; she lived in the sun. Drusilla belonged with the moon.

"You know," he said. "Today has to be our day. And then every day after this has to be our day too. "

Angelus gently opened her legs, and positioned himself between them, his lips inches away from her pussy.

"I can...see Cassie every day?" she said, blushing now as she cried.

"You'll have to walk the dog with her afterwards, too," Angelus said. "Cassie gets emotional when she has to walk the dog. You know how excitable she is. It would be easier for her if her big sister was there to support her and comfort her. You can be strong for Cassie, can't you?"

Drusilla wiped her tears away, took a deep breath, and nodded.

"Can Daddy give you a kiss now?" Angelus said. "Or would you rather not join us for dinner?"

"You can...you can kiss me," Drusilla whispered.

"Is today our day?" Angelus said. "And all the days after?"

Drusilla nodded.

And then she sobbed, as Angelus did something he hadn't done with anyone but Darla in more than a century...

"Why, Arthur, you smell like piss," Darla said, and threw a bucket of cold water on the naked, emaciated form of Mr. Morgan, curled up pale and shivering on the floor of the attic in his own filth. "It's terribly unseemly."

The water woke him up, spluttering and coughing. His hands and ankles were tied, and he was blindfolded; neither the ropes, nor the blindfold, had been removed since Darla had first applied them, sixteen days before.

He trembled at the sound of her voice; she had beaten him every day. She smiled, as she saw tears falling down his cheeks.

Darla never allowed him to bathe; the bucket of cold water was his daily bath. But unfortunately Angelus insisted that Mr. Morgan be made to piss and shit in a bucket too, and the attic smelled terrible. Darla found it all extremely trying. She'd complained to Angelus, who wasn't too fond of the smell either, but he'd said that allowing the father to use the facilities like a human being would have worked against his plans. The smell was a constant irritant now and Darla wasn't too happy about having to prepare Mr. Morgan's meals either; but they'd killed all the servants, so someone had to do the cooking...

Darla liked cooking for Cassie and Dru but cooking for their parents was annoying. She grit her teeth through it, and made Angelus promise that when this was all over he would take her to Spain again for a nice, long vacation.

Thankfully, that morning Angelus had told Darla that Mr. Morgan had been sufficiently softened up and it was time for him to go; the daily beatings had worked wonders, and Darla had taken his blood at regular intervals too, whenever she felt peckish, and that had sped the process along. Angelus said there was no real reason to keep him around any longer; he knew Mr. Morgan would give him what he wanted now and Drusilla was ready to hear her father say the words.

Angelus hadn't needed to torture him very long at all the night before to get him to agree to do what he wanted, shrieking his assent amidst his tears. Mr. Morgan had deteriorated very quickly over the sixteen days of his captivity, languishing naked in his own filth in the cold attic: the strong, healthy, confident, commanding man Darla had beaten to within an inch of his life that first day she'd burst into the house was gone, now. He'd wasted away; in his place was a pale, weak, sick, terrified creature, a prey animal, a rabbit in a trap. He looked like he'd aged a decade in those sixteen days; being starved and beaten and drained of blood and kept blindfolded the whole time had a wondrous effect. The blindfold was Darla's idea; she wasn't sure what would happen to a person if they weren't allowed to see anything for a prolonged period of time but she was curious to find out and Angelus thought it could prove to be entertaining.

It had made Mr. Morgan afraid: he never knew when the next beating would come, never knew if someone was watching him, never knew when the torture would begin again until the pain was upon him, like a stalking wolf suddenly moving in for the kill.

"Are you ready for your big day, Arthur?" Darla said. "Soon you'll be back downstairs and reunited with your family...well, all save one."

He nodded, looking down at the floor.

She crouched beside him, and removed his blindfold. He flinched, when he felt her hands against his skin. When the blindfold came off, he whimpered, and held his hand over his eyes; the attic was lit only by a single oil lamp, but the light was harsh after sixteen days wearing a blindfold and he still couldn't see.

"Your eyes will take some time to adjust to the light," Darla said. "In the meantime, you can have a bath; a real one, and then you can get dressed."

She smiled, and caressed his red hair, and straightened his moustache.

"All the things we took away from you will now be given back," she said. "But just remember, Arthur, not to deviate from the plan. If you do, if you fail to meet our expectations, we'll kill you. But we'll make you watch us kill Olivia first. Do you understand?"

He nodded. "My wife," he whispered, hoarsely. "Is she...?"

Darla backhanded him in the mouth. His mouth bled; he spit blood.

"No talking out of turn, Arthur," Darla said. "You don't ask questions. You answer the questions put to you."

He nodded again.

"I hate you," Darla said. "I suppose you've managed to figure that out by now. But do you know why I hate you?"

He didn't say anything. He seemed to collapse in on himself a little, bringing his legs up to his chest and curling up in a ball. He sat very still, and looked down at the floor, and shook a little.

Darla smacked him in the mouth again. He screamed, and began sobbing.

"I asked you a question, Arthur," Darla said. "And I would prefer it if you answered me without my having to coax you, because as much as I enjoy hurting you, you smell like piss, and I'd like to keep our time together brief. I don't hate Dru, or Veronica, or Cassie. Just you, and Olivia. Do you know why?"

He shook his head.

"Well, part of the reason I hate you is the way you look at me," Darla said. She was still stroking his hair. "You look at me like I'm beneath you. Oh, I wouldn't blame you for disliking me now, but you looked at me that way from the moment I first entered your house. Do you know I had originally planned not to hurt you? Well, not much at least. The plan was to knock you about a bit and then tie you up, but I hadn't intended on going overboard. But when I saw that look in your eyes I decided you were an arsehole, Arthur. I decided you're an arsehole, and I wanted to hurt you. And so I did. But the way you look at me is only part of it. It's why I decided to start hurting you, it's why I initially disliked you, but it's not why I hate you now, and why I hate Olivia too. I hate you both because of what you've done to Cassie."

She wrenched his hair, pulled him closer. He screamed, and looked away.

"Look at me, you piece of shit," Darla snarled. "Or I swear I'll rip your fucking throat out right here and Angelus and his plan can go hang."

He quailed, but he looked at her: looked into her nothingness.

"You're her father," she said. You're supposed to care for her, you're supposed to encourage her and be proud of her, love her for who she is. But you don't. Do you know how talented she is? Her paintings are splendid. Someday, despite your influence, she could become one of the all-time great artists, someone they write books about. But did you hang up even one of her paintings? No. Even if her paintings were rubbish you should have hung them up, because she's your daughter. But you don't care about her, you don't want her, so even though she might be the next Goya you refuse to hang her paintings in your own house. How do you think that made her feel?"

Darla had tears in her eyes now. She grabbed Morgan by the shoulders and shook him, flailing him around like a ragdoll.

"Fathers are supposed to care for their daughters!" she screamed, as she shook him, and he cried. "They're supposed to love them! They're supposed to love them! Why couldn't you LOVE HER?! WHY?!"

Her face changed to vampire form, and she growled at him, and showed him her fangs. He whimpered, and tried to look away, but she held him fast.

"You're just like my father was," Darla snarled. "He didn't care either. And you're just like him. And now look at me. LOOK AT ME!"

She spit in his face, and let him go. He fell to the floor, and cried.

"I was sad without you, Daddy," Drusilla said, glaring down at Angel out of the shadows like a predatory bird. "I do so relish your vicious games."

"What are you doing here, Dru?" Angel said, and stood up, and faced her...faced those ice-blue eyes. He wasn't at all sure that this was really Drusilla, but she acted like her, and if he was going to get any information out of her he thought he'd have to do it on her terms. "What happened to Spike?"

"My little Spike was naughty," Drusilla said. "Making googly eyes at the Slayer. I know what he's up to. I can see. And then he ruined our party. The world would've been so pretty, all the people were going to be little dollies and I was going to play dress up, and then we were all going to join Miss Edith for tea. But then Spike came and he said we couldn't have our tea party, and Miss Edith was very cross with him. Now the world is ugly again, and no one comes to tea."

"Dru," Angel said. "Where's Spike?"

"Gone, gone, flew away....we're sad, Daddy, Miss Edith and me; Miss Edith is so sad, I had to pluck out her eyes to stop her crying. She just sits on the shelf now and refuses to talk to me. But I know what she's thinking. She whispers to the other dollies, when my back is turned. Whispers nasty, nasty things," Drusilla said, with a smile that showed her long canine teeth.

Then she turned away from him, looking down at the ground.

"My little Spike, he tried to hurt me after he took me away, but it wasn't the same. Every time he whipped me, he wanted to be whipping the Slayer. I can see. I can see. And Miss Edith snickered at me the whole time. She's such an evil dolly."

"And now you're here," Angel said.

"Spike always said he and I were supposed to be forever," Drusilla said. "And I believed him, for awhile. But fate plays tricks. Fate cheats. Sometimes, the one you think you're meant to be with...isn't. Sometimes, they fly away... sometimes they're meant to be with someone else."

She turned and looked at him again, and smiled.

"But you know that all too well, don't you Daddy?" she said.

"I've had a long night, Dru," Angel said. "Not really up for one of your riddle games right now."

"But it's always a game," Drusilla said, and snarled at him...but she still smiled. "It was a game when you raped me, and took my family away from me, and a game when you killed me. A game when you broke me, and turned me, and told me you loved me, and a game yet again when you sent me away. But you never could finally put an end to me, could you? I wonder why that is?"

"I should've put an end to you," Angel said. "I should've killed you last year."

"Oooh, Daddy, spank me again, you know I'm bad," Drusilla said. "So where's your Slayer off to? Where's the love of your life tonight?"

"Is that why you're here? Are you going to try to hurt Buffy? I won't let you, Dru."

"Oh, don't be cross with me, Daddy. I'm just playing a little trick on you. I know exactly where the love of your life is. And I know where your Slayer is too. She came to me, when I was with Spike, when he was hurting me, trying to make up for ruining my party. I saw her, behind his eyes. Hide and seek, hide and seek, peeking out, peeking out. The Slayer laughed at me from inside him. Drusilla, you're such a flighty, frivolous thing. I don't know what Spike could possibly see in you. And every time he hurt me, I knew he really wanted to be hurting her. So I left."

"And you came to Sunnydale," Angel said. "Why?"

"I knew you were back. Spike didn't believe me but I knew, I always know. I knew you were back to bring me presents, because I've been very good. So I asked Miss Edith what I should do...and..."

Drusilla took one step toward him, like a stalking wolf.

"SHE..." Drusilla almost shouted, her voice reverberating like a gunshot through the silent courtyard, as she put her left foot down, and froze, crouched there, watching him; holding him in her eyes, and smiling like a jackal.

Drusilla took another step toward him.

"WHISPERED..." Drusilla barked, as she put her right foot down, and froze again, standing close to him now.

She put her mouth to Angel's ear.

"Run away, count to ten," Drusilla whispered. "Daddy's back, playing hide and seek like that dreadful Slayer, the one who got stuck in his eyes...the one he thinks he loves."

She giggled, and pirouetted away from Angel like a ballerina.

"But you cast her out, Daddy," Drusilla said, twirling around the courtyard now. "You cast that horrible girl out, and then you came and found me, because I'm always very good, and we were planning our tea party. But then Spike came and ruined it, because she found her way in through his eyes too, and she's stuck there even now, laughing at me, and making faces at Miss Edith, who is too well-mannered to respond in kind. So I came back. I know the Slayer's secret places; I know where she hides. She thinks she can hide from me but I've played games here before, I know all the secret paths."

She stopped spinning, and picked a jasmine flower, and held it to her nose.

"Got her scent right here, I do," Drusilla said, sniffing the flower, and staring at Angel over the top of it. Her blue eyes were portals to some cold, empty place, freezing him where he stood.

Angel could hear a growl rumbling up from Drusilla's throat now.

"Dru. I won't let you hurt Buffy," Angel said.

Drusilla smiled at Angel again, her mouth a black maw, stinking of blood; her teeth a gate of knives.

"I thought you liked when I hurt people, Daddy?" she said. "Have I been bad again? Bad girl. Bad daughter. Lock her in the closet. Do you hear them?" Drusilla held the jasmine flower to her nose, and smiled, as she suddenly looked all around her; as if she could see something that he couldn't. "Do you hear the voices, whispering all around?"

"No," Angel said.

"You never do," Drusilla said. "They're afraid of you. You always send them scurrying away."

It had taken Angelus a long time; Drusilla was afraid, and she was a virgin, and she was tight; he didn't want to hurt her. But Angelus was patient. He'd licked her between her legs first, and although Drusilla had tried not to enjoy it, she'd grown wet for him after awhile. When he judged that she was ready, he'd moved between her legs, and kept up a steady pressure against her, and kissed her as he did.

She felt warm, when he finally entered her...

Now they were done, lying naked together on the bed, the same bed he had raped her sister on. And she was crying; not because he'd hurt her. He had been very careful not to hurt her. He knew she was crying because it was the last thing, the last thing she had been keeping from him, the last thing she had that was only for her. And now he'd taken that away from her too. She had nothing left now, and so she cried...

He held her in his arms.

"We'll get you something to eat, darlin'," he said. "Then Mr. Morgan wants to see you. And after that, later on tonight, since you've been such a love, we'll go have a visit with Cassie. All right?"

She nodded.

The whispers still hadn't come back. As long as she was with him, the whispers couldn't reach her...

"Every day is our day from now on," he said. "Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Will I...have to go back into the closet?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "Because you're still an evil thing, Dru. The Lord's not done punishin' you yet. But I'll always be there, on the other side of the door, watching over you. I'll make sure you're safe."

Her crying got worse; she buried her face in her hands.

He held her; she tried to pull away. He didn't let her.

"Do you want something with you, in the closet?" he said, and cursed himself for saying it; it wasn't part of the plan. It was weak, giving her something. He had no idea why he'd said it...

"Something with me?" she said, and looked up at him, with that beautiful light in her eyes...

"You can have something, something to keep you company. A blanket perhaps, something to hold onto."

"One of my dolls?" she said.

"Sure darlin'," he said. "You can have one of your dolls."

"Miss Edith," Drusilla said. "She's always whispering to me from the shelf but sometimes I can't hear what she's saying because she's too far away."

"All right Dru," he said, and smiled. "You and Miss Edith can have a right good time together from now on."

Darla had allowed Mr. Morgan to bathe and shower and dress in his finest clothes, and eat, and even have a cigar. He sat in one of the overstuffed leather armchairs in his study now, still squinting a little even though the study was dim. He wasn't tied up at the moment, but Darla knew he was too terrified to try to escape, not that it would have done a lick of good if he did try.

Angelus sat across from him, in the other armchair. He smoked a cigar too. He didn't breathe, but he liked cigars; he liked how they tasted. He knew Darla liked them too, but cigar-smoking among women was unheard of in London and Darla was being a proper lady for the moment. She was sticking to his plan perfectly, making sacrifices for him. For a moment he nearly felt guilty about his plan, about the secret part of it he hadn't told her: the endgame he foresaw. Of course, that endgame was only one of many possible outcomes and much of it depended upon Drusilla. There were risks...but he liked risks.

He smiled, and smoked his cigar, and watched Mr. Morgan. He noted with amusement that Morgan seemed even more afraid of Darla than of him. Angelus had gone through the motions when he beat Morgan; he liked torturing women but he found torturing men to be rather boring. But Darla liked torturing men and she especially liked torturing Mr. Morgan; she beat him with relish every day, remarking once to Angelus that Morgan reminded her of the johns she used to sleep with when she was a whore. She said that Morgan looked at her like she was beneath him. Angelus almost felt sorry for him after that.

Mr. Morgan was a slave, and he knew it: Darla had beaten him, and taken his blood, and broken him, and now he sat in his study, and held a cigar in his shaking hand, and looked down at the floor, because the candle was too bright; and he waited to play his part in Angelus' plan.

Mr. Morgan didn't like the idea of denouncing his daughter at first; although he was mortally afraid of the beatings now and Angelus knew he would do whatever he was told in order to avoid another one, Angelus could see that Morgan still didn't like it. And that wouldn't do; Mr. Morgan needed to mean what he said, when he played his part. Drusilla needed to believe it.

So Angelus had lied to Mr. Morgan, and told him he'd let him keep Cassandra and Veronica and his wife if he agreed to give Drusilla away; if he agreed to disown her, and call her the Devil's spawn, and tell her that he hated her and that he had never loved her, not even when she was little, and, most importantly, tell her also that Angelus was her father now. Angelus told Mr. Morgan that he and Darla were the Devil's messengers, and that the priest had been right: that Drusilla was evil, a Hell-born thing. Mr. Morgan, addled by pain and weak from blood loss and lack of food and sick from sixteen days of lying naked in the cold, damp attic, had believed everything he said. Angelus saw it in his eyes. Morgan had cried a little, too. And Angelus had allowed it: he gave him that moment, and didn't beat him again, nor did he allow Darla to beat him. Angelus knew those tears were the last link between Mr. Morgan and Drusilla; when they had run dry, the link would finally be severed.

Now Morgan was done crying, and they sat together, smoking cigars.

Angelus had decided to give Mr. Morgan one last moment as a man before he was disposed of. Being beaten by a woman for sixteen straight days would be hard on any man. There was something perverse about it, Angelus thought; it just didn't seem right. Though he didn't tell Darla that.

So he gave Morgan this last moment, as a man, while Darla watched and smiled, and Drusilla lay in her closet, whispering to her doll, and waiting.

"Don't be soft with her, Arthur," Angelus said. "Dismiss her from your house, from your family, and be firm. You can beat her if you want. When we're done here I'll take Dru from you and then Darla and Dru and I will be gone and you'll be reunited with your family. Eventually this will all seem like a bad dream."

Morgan nodded, without looking at him. Darla sat down on the arm of Morgan's chair, and smiled, her blue eyes catching the candlelight and looking beautiful in the darkness; for a moment Angelus thought it made them look as if there was something in them. But he knew there wasn't. He wanted to be back with Drusilla.

"Arthur's an honorable man, Angelus, a man of his word," Darla said. "He'll do what we agreed."

She touched Morgan's hand. His hand shook, much worse than before.

"Won't you, Arthur?" she whispered in his ear.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Time to fetch Dru," Angelus said, and stood up.

"I'll keep this big, strapping man company until you get back," Darla said, and smiled up at Angelus, and held Morgan's hand.

When Angelus returned to Drusilla's room, Drusilla was arguing with her doll about him.

"He's not," Angelus heard Drusilla whispering, in the closet. "He's not handsome. He's not nice. He wants to hurt us."

Silence.

"No, I think you fancy him, Miss Edith. I, for my part, find him very rude."

Silence.

"I did no such thing. I'm a good girl. I would never do such a thing. Good girls don't do things like that."

Silence.

"I didn't like it."

Silence.

"That's a horrible thing to say. You're a horrible dolly. I hate you."

"Dru," Angelus whispered, to the door.

"It's him," Drusilla whispered. "Be quiet, Miss Edith, he'll hear you."

There was a word: sometimes Drusilla forgot it for awhile but she knew she could always go back to it, because she kept it hidden in a little box inside her mind. The box was a pretty little silver jewelry box lined with red velvet inside, and it had a lock on the outside. Even the whispering voices didn't know about the word, because only Drusilla had the key to the box. Even Miss Edith didn't know about the word. The word was just for Drusilla, and even though she forgot it sometimes, with all the whispers all about her, she knew she could always go back to the little box, and the word would be there waiting for her.

Revolver.

"Dru," Angelus said. "It's time to see Mr. Morgan now."

"All right," Drusilla said, to the darkness.

"I'm your Daddy now," Dru," Angelus said. "You need to admit it, and start saying it from now on. All right?"

Silence.

"Dru?" Angelus said.

"All right, Daddy," Drusilla said.

When Angelus brought Drusilla down to the study, Darla was still sitting on the arm of Mr. Morgan's chair, smiling. Mr. Morgan wasn't smiling. He looked scared; his face was pale and drawn. Angelus thought Darla had probably hurt him again. But once Morgan's eyes lit on Drusilla, the fear was gone; in its place Angelus saw indignation...he saw rage. But he saw resolve too, and control. Morgan knew he had a script to stick to and he seemed determined to get it right.

"Hello, Dru dear," Darla said.

"Hello, mother," Drusilla said.

Darla smiled, and walked over to her, and hugged her. Drusilla hugged her back. She didn't look at her father...hadn't even glanced at him once yet.

"I'm going to make you a wonderful dessert to go with your dinner tonight," Darla said, and kissed her cheek. "Because you're such a love."

"Thank you, mother," Drusilla said.

"How about a pound cake?" Darla said. "Cassie likes them, and I've found some delightful pound cake recipes. Would you like that, dear?"

Drusilla nodded, and smiled, and leaned close to Darla, and didn't look at her father.

Darla looked up at Angelus. She knew Angelus had fucked Drusilla today; she saw it in his eyes, and in Drusilla's too. She wasn't sure she liked the fact that he'd fucked Drusilla, or that he'd most certainly be fucking her every day from now on. She'd known it would happen eventually, but now that it was here she felt strange...as if she had lost something. She resolved to forget the feeling; it made her uncomfortable. And she had to admit she was impressed: Darla wasn't sure Dru was quite broken yet but she seemed well on her way. There was still something in Drusilla's eyes, though...Darla thought Drusilla was scheming. But she wasn't actively resisting them anymore; instead Darla thought Dru was hiding now, being stealthy and secret, and very quiet...

"Pound cake?" Angelus said, and grinned. His dark eyes looked amused.

"I'll have you know I make wonderful pound cake, Angelus," Darla said. "It's simply scrumptious."

"'Course it's scrumptious. Hell, there's not a doubt in my mind, darlin'."

"I see that insolent gleam in your eyes."

"Insolent. That's me. I'm the very word."

Drusilla was still holding onto Darla, and Darla was stroking her hair. Drusilla still hadn't glanced at her father.

"Be careful Angelus, or there won't be any cake for you," Darla said.

"Guess I better be on my best behavior," Angelus said. He gently took Drusilla's arm, and turned her toward him.

"Daddy?" Drusilla whispered.

"Dru, Mr. Morgan wants to talk to you," Angelus said.

Drusilla nodded, but she still didn't look at her father. Angelus turned her toward him.

Drusilla stood between Angelus and Darla, looking down at the floor.

"Go ahead, Arthur," Darla said. "Tell us why you wanted to see Drusilla today. We're all very curious."

"Drusilla," Mr. Morgan said. "I'm talking to you. Look at me."

His voice was soft, but it became louder as he talked, and his anger lent it strength.

Drusilla looked up at him, met his eyes.

"Come here, girl," he said.

Drusilla didn't move.

"Go ahead, Dru," Angelus said. "We'll be right here."

Drusilla shuffled a few steps forward, and stood in front of her father, looking down at the floor, as the whispering voices floated around her, and called her terrible names. She wondered why no one else could hear them. There were so many of them now and they were all so loud...

She wanted Miss Edith. Miss Edith always comforted her but she had left her in the closet.

She tried to remember her word; she couldn't now. She couldn't concentrate with all the whispers. But she knew the word would be waiting for her in the little box.

"All your life, you've been a disappointment to me," Morgan said. "The day you were born, I knew you would turn out this way. I knew you were an evil, ugly thing."

She looked up at him. The whispers were suddenly gone.

No, not gone, she realized: they were still there, the horrible creatures who always whispered to her; they were still all around her, floating through the air. She could see them now, sometimes...they always smiled like wolves.

But they were silent for the moment. They wanted her to hear this. Because this would be worse than anything they could ever whisper to her...

A tear rolled down Drusilla's cheek.

"All your life, I hated you," Morgan said. "I tried to keep you away from your sisters, tried to keep you from tainting them with your evil. Veronica knew. She knew what you were..."

Drusilla glanced around the room. The room was spotless; he never let anyone in here. She saw the Bible resting on its pedestal. She used to sneak in sometimes, and read it...she had her own Bible in her desk, but she liked his; it was beautiful. Soft, sumptuous old leather, with pages gilt in gold...

He caught her sneaking in there once, when she was fourteen, and beat her. She tried to tell him she only wanted to read his Bible but he didn't believe her. He actually laughed when she said it: he laughed and asked her what she could possibly want with a Bible.

She never read his Bible again after that. She never read hers again, either.

Drusilla felt Angelus behind her. She felt his eyes on her. For a moment she felt like she was in a play...giving a performance. Or perhaps her father was giving the performance?

She didn't like that room. The books on the shelves, perfectly arranged, the smell of his cigars...she wanted to be back with Miss Edith.

"But Cassandra fell under your spell," Morgan said. "Thankfully I've managed to save her."

She looked at him again.

"What...what do you mean?" she said.

"I never loved you, Drusilla," Morgan said, blowing out that awful cigar smoke; Drusilla waved it away from her face. "I always wanted to get rid of you, because I knew you were an abomination. The priest said so too. Your monstrous visions are the Devil's work. Those two fiends behind you are proof."

Angelus chuckled. He had to give Morgan credit for that; the old man had some steel left in him after all. Angelus glanced at Darla. She was frowning.

Good for you, Arthur, Angelus thought. Let's show these damned women who's boss.

"I'm giving you away, Drusilla," Morgan said. "Mr. Angelus over there, he's your father; he's the one you belong with. You don't belong with a God-fearing family like ours; you're a fiend and you belong with fiends. You're a devil. And some day the Lord will send you to Hell. Until that day you can go with Mr. Angelus and be damned and I'll be well rid of you."

Drusilla started to cry.

"I didn't...I didn't mean to," she whispered. "I tried. I tried so hard."

"Get out of my sight," Morgan said.

Drusilla stood before her father, looking down at the floor again now, and weeping.

"Angelus," Darla whispered, and took his arm. "She's had enough. Stop this."

Angelus ignored her. Drusilla held her head in her hands, and wept.

"Get out!" Morgan suddenly shouted, jumping up out of his chair at Drusilla. "Get out! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Angelus smiled. It was all going perfectly...

Drusilla looked up at her father, and wiped her tears away.

"Not without Cassie," Drusilla said.

Morgan backhanded Drusilla across the face. She stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, and started wailing.

Darla tried to go to Drusilla. Angelus grabbed her arm and held her back.

"Don't you dare even mention her name," Morgan said, pointing down at Drusilla, his face red, his hand shaking. "Don't you ever mention any of our names again! You'll not sully Cassandra with your presence, you fiend, you devil, you scum! Do you hear me? You'll never see her again!

"NO!" Drusilla screamed, and lunged at him, scratching at his face. He fell backwards, onto his chair.

Angelus chuckled again. This was perfect. This was the most fun he'd had in years...

"You won't take her! I won't let you have her! I WON'T! I WON'T! I WON'T!" Drusilla screamed, still scratching at his face, digging deep and drawing blood, as he tried to fend her off.

"Enough!" Morgan screamed, and grabbed Drusilla by the throat, and throttled her.

"Stop this!" Darla hissed to Angelus.

"Not quite yet, darlin'," Angelus whispered. He didn't think Morgan would kill Drusilla, that wasn't the deal...

Angelus held Darla's arm, held her in place.

Morgan was still throttling Drusilla. He had both of his hands about her throat. Her face was red, she couldn't breathe...

Angelus watched carefully. In a few more seconds, he would have to intervene...

Morgan hurled Drusilla away from him. She went flying, bounced off one of the bookcases, and fell to the floor, crying hysterically.

"A whipping, is that what you want, whore?!" Morgan growled, and took off his belt, and stalked toward Drusilla, holding one hand against the scratch wounds on his face. "Shall I whip the evil out of you?!"

Drusilla screamed, and tried to cover up, as Morgan began whipping her with his belt...

It was perfect, Angelus thought; he couldn't believe his luck. The whipping was the perfect stroke of serendipity.

But that feeling came back to him, when he saw Drusilla being whipped... the feeling he didn't understand, the one he found annoying.

Drusilla was screaming...

Darla wrenched herself free of Angelus, and ran to her.

"Get away from her!" Darla screamed, and tore the belt out of Morgan's hand, and grabbed him by the throat. "GET AWAY FROM HER!"

She could ruin it all, Angelus thought. He couldn't let her kill Morgan now, not this way. It wasn't the plan...

"Darla," Angelus said.

Darla had Morgan by the throat; she was holding him suspended in the air with one hand. He was choking to death.

"You bastard I should kill you," Darla snarled at Morgan. "BASTARD!"

"Darla!" Angelus hissed.

She turned to him. For the first time since he'd known her, he saw something in her eyes.

Tears.

"You want him?!" she snarled. "HAVE HIM!"

She flung Morgan away from her. Morgan sailed across the room and crashed into Angelus, knocking them both to the floor.

Darla looked down at Drusilla, crying on the floor.

She felt something...a strange feeling. She didn't know what it was...she didn't have words for it.

Darla knelt beside Drusilla, and put her arms around her.

"I'm here, Dru," Darla whispered. "I won't let him hurt you again."

Drusilla threw her arms around Darla, and held her as tight as she could, as Darla brought her to her bosom, and rocked her, as she screamed, and cried.

Angelus flung Morgan away, dusted himself off, and stood up. Morgan was crying now too.

Angelus looked down at Darla, holding Drusilla in her arms.

Darla looked back up at Angelus, with tears in her eyes.

"Are you satisfied, Angelus?" Darla said. "You win again."

She looked back down at Drusilla, and smoothed the hair out of her eyes, and wiped her tears away.

"You always win," Darla said.

That night, Angelus stood with Drusilla, in the front yard.

Mr. Morgan was tied to a tree, and gagged.

Angelus had a bullwhip in his hand. Drusilla had Miss Edith. Miss Edith was a pretty porcelain doll, about two feet long, with long, blonde hair in curls, a red evening gown, big, blue eyes, and a somewhat mischievous smile.

Drusilla was looking down at Miss Edith, and smiling; sometimes she shook her head at the doll, and sometimes she nodded.

Darla wasn't with them. Angelus knew he would have to have a talk with her. The incident with Mr. Morgan had touched something in Darla, and she had nearly ruined his plan because of it. He'd sent her away after that, and he had to actually tear Drusilla away from Darla when he did. He'd put Drusilla back in the closet for a couple of hours, with her doll, until she calmed down. Angelus wanted her level-headed when she watched her father being killed. Darla went to Cassie's room, and they played checkers. Darla was still with Cassie now.

"This man tried to hurt you, Dru," Angelus said. "He hurt Cassie too. He's not your father. He never was."

"We won't let him take Cassie away from us," Drusilla said. "Miss Edith and I have decided."

"No, he won't take Cassie," Angelus said, and touched Drusilla's cheek. "No one will ever break up our family."

"He never hung up any of Cassie's paintings," Drusilla said. "And his cigars always made Miss Edith cough. I think Miss Edith hates him."

Drusilla wasn't looking at Angelus, or her father. She was looking down at her doll, as she had been since Angelus had brought her out there.

"He whipped you," Angelus said.

Drusilla looked down at Miss Edith. Angelus took her chin in his hand, and raised her eyes to his, and held them in his.

"He whipped you," Angelus said. "He said terrible things. He called you terrible names. He doesn't care for you. But Darla and I do, and so does Cassie. "

"We're a family," Drusilla said, and smiled.

She wasn't broken yet. Angelus knew he'd made progress with her, but he still saw something there, in her eyes...a spark of resistance. She was still fighting him. Only in small, secret ways...but he knew she was scheming.

"I think Mr. Morgan deserves a whipping, don't you?" Angelus said.

"As you say, Daddy," Drusilla said.

Angelus began whipping Mr. Morgan. Morgan screamed into his gag. Drusilla watched, without expression.

Morgan began bleeding immediately; the whip shredded his clothes and his blood flowed freely. Whipping was a slow death; it was painful, and death came from blood loss. Morgan was unconscious after a little while; Angelus kept on whipping him, long after that. The night was quiet, and warm, and still. The gardens smelled wonderful. The harsh crack of the whip, echoing through the darkness and seeming to go on forever, was the only thing that broke the silence.

After about twenty minutes, Angelus gave the whip to Drusilla, and made her whip Mr. Morgan too. She cried a little, as she did, and she screamed, and she smiled, all at the same time.

It took awhile for Mr. Morgan to die. By the time he did, he didn't look like a person anymore. He looked like a hunk of bloody meat.

Angelus left the body tied to the tree. Later, before Darla took Dru and Cassie to walk Olivia on her leash, he'd remove the body and dump it in the horse stable. For now, he liked the way it looked; a pale, cold, fleshy thing, tied to a tree, dressed in hanging rags, standing in a pool of blood. He thought the sight was strangely beautiful.

He took Drusilla's hand, and walked with her to the house. She whispered to her doll, and held it tight.

She didn't once look back.

Drusilla dropped the jasmine flower to the ground, and stepped on it, crushing it beneath her heel.

"You always send the voices away, Daddy," she said. "You send them away, because I'm your daughter. You send them away, because you love me."

She pirouetted back to him, and stood in front of him, smiling her little girl's smile again. A thin shaft of moonlight fell upon her then, and she was cold and beautiful in that light, like a statue made of ice.

"Dru...I'm not...the same as I was before," Angel said.

"You love me," Drusilla said. "You always did. You loved me even before...even before we played all your wicked games. That night when we were heading to the opera, when my carriage passed you, and you caught my eyes, you thought you had me trapped. But you were wrong, Daddy. I trapped you. I trapped you in my eyes, and held you there, and I never once let you escape. Even now, you're still in my eyes. You're still in me. And you always will be."

"I have my soul again, Dru," Angel said. "I'm not like that anymore...I'm not the same person anymore."

Drusilla laughed again, and looked up at the sky.

"Can't I smell it on you?" she said. "Poor Daddy. Poor sad, naughty Daddy. Saddled with that horrible burden for so long, because of those nasty gypsies. Forced to scamper about, creeping and crawling like a bug, filthy, living in alleys, covered in shame, eating rats, dining on ashes. All those years. Wearing that filthy soul like a funeral shroud. Hiding, always hiding, hiding from the sun, hiding from all your days, from all the things you did, from all those sad faces. Hiding from me. The worst thing you did. Me."

She turned back to him, and moved close to him. Her hair smelled like roses. But her breath smelled like blood.

"And all the while, every day, every moment, you were burning," Drusilla whispered. "That filthy thing inside you, it burns you, Daddy...I can see it, burning you away. Inch by inch, moment by moment, you're turning to dust."

"Dru..." he whispered.

"Lie to me, Daddy," Drusilla whispered back. "Tell me that dirty cast-off soul doesn't burn you. Tell me you wouldn't give anything...anyone...to be free of it again. You were free for awhile...and didn't we enjoy ourselves? Didn't we play some perfectly horrible games? Didn't we love? You brought me a beating heart for Valentine's day. You were so thoughtful...you knew just what a girl wants... how to make a girl feel. You always did. You still do. And you're burning. Not just because of that soul. You're burning for me."

She smiled up at him, and held him in her eyes...

And he knew she was right. He hadn't trapped her. He hadn't ever trapped her. She had trapped him. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, more than a century ago, she'd trapped him, and held him...

"Lie to me," she whispered. "Tell me you're happy. Tell me you're a good dog, happy on your leash. Woof."

He didn't say anything. He looked down at his blackbird, and wanted more than anything else at that moment to be running free with her again...to have a family again...to put down his burdens...to forget all the faces.

"That soul burns you but it doesn't matter," she said. "You're still my Daddy. You're still my love. Don't you see? Spike left me because I'm not meant to be with him. Buffy left you because you're not meant to be with her."

"How...did you know...she left?" Angel whispered.

"I saw," Drusilla said. "I always see. I saw the Slayer, with that other one...that new Slayer...Faith. Buffy's true love, the one she was always meant to be with...the love of her life."

Angel turned away from her. He looked around the courtyard...he looked at the life he had tried to build.

"Oh, such a sad Daddy. You thought you let her go, but she was already gone, wasn't she?" Drusilla said. "Gone, gone, flew away...flew into another's arms. Fate plays tricks."

Everywhere he looked, he saw jasmine flowers.

"You know my visions always come true, Daddy," Drusilla said.

They were beautiful flowers. They were strong, and just a bit reckless...

"Fate plays nasty games," Drusilla said. "Almost as nasty as yours."

Once, he thought they smelled almost too sweet...and then he came to Sunnydale, and fell in love...and knew that he wanted the scent of his love around him, all the time. He never wanted to be away from her scent...

"Darla thought you were hers," Drusilla said. "She thought she was your true love. But fate tricked her too."

He knew all he had left of Buffy was her scent now. Jasmine.

"But she played her part in your life, Daddy," Drusilla said. "She played her part in fate's game. She brought you to me. Where you belong."

He smelled Drusilla, close behind him. She smelled like blood and roses.

Red, Angel thought. Red was always Drusilla's color.

"But we can play our own games," Drusilla said. "It took us more than a century, but we solved the puzzle. We made it through the maze. We found the ones we were meant to be with...we found each other."

Angel remembered how sweet human blood tasted...how sweet Leah Maguire tasted. How sweet Drusilla tasted, the night he took her, and turned her.

"I have a soul now, Dru," Angel said. He still had his back to her. He couldn't let her see his eyes. Couldn't let her see...that he knew she was right.

Drusilla smiled.

"It doesn't matter," Drusilla said. "Buffy doesn't matter, and that soul doesn't matter. You're still a bad dog, deep down inside. A wolf. And the wolf is more powerful than that puny soul that's polluting you. Your darkness is stronger than its feeble light. The wolf can devour that light, if you'll just let him off his leash."

She moved beside him, and put her mouth to his ear.

"You belong to the Devil, you always have," she whispered.

Darla sat with Cassie in front of the mirror in Cassie's bedroom, and brushed her hair. They'd been together sixteen days now and Cassie wasn't afraid of her anymore; Darla had been steadily chipping away at her, and like a skittish fawn, Cassie had gradually become less nervous around her, had gradually become used to her, until finally they could sit like this, and talk, and laugh, and Cassie liked her company now. When the crack of the whip had echoed through the yard, Darla hadn't allowed Cassie to look out the window to see what the noise was. She knew Cassie was a sensitive girl, and it would upset her. Instead, she sat her in front of the mirror, and brushed her hair while Angelus whipped her father to death. Cassie didn't even seem to mind anymore that Darla cast no reflection; it had made her nervous at first, but she had become used to it.

Darla always smiled, whenever she talked to Cassie. She always made sure there was something gentle in her eyes, when she looked at her. She spoke softly to her, never once raising her voice, never allowing even a trace of impatience into her tone. Her hands were soft, when she touched Cassie, and Cassie didn't flinch at her touch anymore, when Darla did her hair, or caressed her cheek. Darla called Cassie her daughter, and told her she would always take care of her, and never let anyone hurt her.

Darla told herself she was just following Angelus' plan, at first; but it was a lie and the lie grew wearying after awhile. Darla had decided, sometime over the past two weeks of playing checkers with Cassie and watching Cassie paint and doing Cassie's hair and cooking her meals and talking to her about the wide world outside her window, that she would just have to accept that there had been an empty place inside her, a place she hadn't even noticed, until she'd met this girl. Darla had decided to accept the fact that she wanted a daughter...she had wanted a husband, and she had found Angelus. Now she wanted a daughter too, and she had found Cassie.

Cassie had a bandage on her neck; Darla had been taking some of her blood every day. She'd told Cassie that it was just a special kiss, a kiss goodnight before bedtime, and though it would hurt the first couple of times, eventually it wouldn't hurt, and she would come to like it, and want it. Darla was smart and she had been around a long time and learned a lot of things: she knew that sometimes it was in a vampire's best interest to be inconspicuous, especially if said vampire wanted to enjoy a nice relaxing vacation in Barcelona or Venice or Shanghai. Leaving a string of corpses in one's wake tended to attract attention, and it could all become a dreadful nuisance when she was trying to unwind and enjoy herself. So Darla had thralls; she had dozens of them throughout the world.

She'd hunt someone she took a particular fancy to, and she'd drain them, but not fully; she wouldn't kill them. But she'd make sure they understood that she could have killed them, and that they were alive now at her whim. As long as they let her take some of their blood, whenever she wanted, they would be allowed to live. And it would be a good arrangement for them, too; she promised them they would come to like it in time, and they always did. Some humans could very quickly become addicted to having their blood taken, Darla had found, and she had become quite adept at recognizing which humans were most susceptible. Of those, she chose only the most beautiful and the most interesting, and over time, they fell in love with her. She allowed that, as long as they didn't become too bothersome about it; she allowed them to think of her as a lover, or a mother, as the case may be. Sometimes she even fucked them: her male thralls were handsome men, it was one of her criteria for choosing them. The sex didn't mean anything to her; it was a pleasant diversion for an hour or so. But it meant something to them. To them it was a spiritual experience. They loved her.

And their love was useful; sometimes Darla and Angelus had needed a place to stay in emergencies, or some extra money or new clothes, or some consideration from the local authorities, and these thralls who worshipped her were willing to give, and do, anything for her, just to be near her. There had been a time when a particularly persistent vampire hunter named Holtz had tracked her and Angelus throughout Europe, relentlessly following their trail with a veritable platoon of armed soldiers at his side; that was more than fifty years ago now, and he had eventually given up the chase, but he had nearly managed to capture them both, on several occasions. Darla's network of thralls kept her and Angelus one step ahead of the hunters during those hard decades; the thralls provided money and clothes and shelter, and, most importantly, food, when she and Angelus desperately needed it. Holtz was gone now, but Darla still remembered those difficult days. Now that she had money and the finer things in life again, she rewarded her thralls for their aid and their devotion. Some of her thralls now were the children and grandchildren of the thralls before them; whole families were devoted to her. She visited them, when she was in the neighborhood, and brought them gifts; they loved her, and gave her their blood.

Darla wanted Cassie to love her too. She wanted Cassie to think of her as her mother. So she took Cassie's blood, and as she predicted, it had brought them closer together. Taking someone's blood repeatedly also made them extremely susceptible to suggestion too, which was helpful, with Cassie. Whenever Cassie thought about things Darla didn't want her thinking about, Darla could look in her eyes, and make her forget them for days at a time with a few well-chosen words.

Cassie had been very afraid, that first time Darla took her blood; she was shaking a little, as Darla came to her in her bed, and laid down beside her, and took her hand, and told her to close her eyes. Darla bit into her neck, as gently as she could; her teeth were razor sharp and the sting was less than it might have been but she knew it would still hurt the girl. Cassie had whimpered, and cried, and shuddered, and held on tight to Darla's hand, as Darla took her blood, careful not to take too much; it tasted very sweet. Darla bandaged the wound when she was done, and then she tucked Cassie in, and told her to sleep.

The second night Darla took Cassie's blood, Cassie said it hurt less; the third night, Cassie said it didn't hurt at all. By the fifth night, she had begun to enjoy it; she moaned.

On the ninth night, when Darla had finished draining Cassie, and told her to sleep, and got up out of the bed, Cassie pulled her back toward her, and asked her to stay. They slept in the same bed that night, and Cassie rested her head against Darla's bosom. There was nothing sexual about it; Darla didn't like girls, and as for Cassie, she'd had no experience with girls or boys and as far as Darla could tell she didn't seem to know what she liked. She held on to Darla under the covers after Darla drained her, and drifted off to sleep in her arms. They slept together that way every night now.

Today, while they played checkers and ate muffins, Cassie had asked if Darla could take her blood more than once a day, but Darla had refused; it would be too much. She told Cassie she would just have to be a good, patient girl, and wait. Darla knew Cassie was addicted now. She had seen it in her from the moment she first met her; she knew Cassie would be particularly susceptible to it. It was the perfect stroke of good fortune...

Darla finished brushing Cassie's hair, and put it up in a chignon bun the way she liked it, and smiled.

"There," Darla said. "My daughter's pretty as a picture."

"Are you making that pound cake I like tonight?" Cassie said.

"Well that depends," Darla said. "Have you been a good girl?"

"I've been a perfectly wonderful girl, mother," Cassie said, and grinned. "I even let you beat me at draughts today."

Darla laughed.

"Yes, dear, I'm sure you did," Darla said. "I suppose I'd better get cracking on that pound cake then."

Darla had found to her surprise that she liked cooking; or rather, she liked having someone to cook for. The food seemed tasteless to Darla, but she knew Cassie liked it, and they ate together. They took all their meals together in the dining room now, talking long into the night about all the exotic places Darla had seen, the places she planned to show Cassie someday. Cassie was still afraid of Angelus, her hands beginning to shake whenever he was near; Darla had eventually told Angelus he would have to stay away from Cassie, and he had assented. He was thinking about Drusilla, and there was no room for anyone else at the moment anyway. But starting tonight, they would all be eating together; not only would Angelus be joining them for dinners from now on but Drusilla would too. Cassie was afraid of Angelus but she loved Drusilla and missed her terribly, and Darla thought she'd be able to put aside her fear of Angelus if Drusilla was with him. Cassie had asked about Drusilla every day; eventually Angelus had sped up his timetable for Drusilla, at Darla's insistence, because Cassie missed her so. The original plan had been to keep Drusilla isolated for at least six weeks before allowing her to see her sister, but Angelus had grudgingly assented to allowing Dru to join Cassie for a meal every night, on the condition that she also walked Olivia with her.

"Are you excited to see Drusilla tonight?" Darla said, as they sat in front of the mirror together, and only Cassie looked back at them.

Cassie nodded, and smiled.

"She'll be joining us for dinners from now on?" Cassie said. "Dru will be with us every night for dinner?"

"Yes, and when we walk the dog after dinner too," Darla said.

Cassie's smile disappeared. Darla stroked her cheek.

"Walking the dog still makes you sad sometimes, doesn't it?" Darla said.

Cassie nodded.

"The dog needs to be walked," Darla said. "She needs to relieve herself. If we kept her locked up in here all day, she'd relieve herself on the floor. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Cassie shook her head.

"It'll get better, Cassie," Darla said. "And Dru will be with us on our walks from now on; she always makes you smile."

Cassie nodded.

"And I know how to get a smile out of you myself," Darla said, and touched Cassie's waist. "I know a certain girl is very ticklish in a certain place. If I can't get a smile I may have to resort to drastic measures."

Cassie grinned. "I have a theory that you're ticklish too, Darla," she said. "I just haven't found the spot yet."

"You can keep trying, but I keep telling you, I'm impervious to your efforts."

Darla walked Olivia twice a day, in the morning a little before sunrise and at night after the sun went down, and she had Cassie join her on the walks at night. The first night they'd walked Olivia across the grounds, Cassie couldn't look at her or at Darla; she looked at the grass, and the flowers, and the stars, and she cried, and Darla didn't make her hold Olivia's leash. But the second night they walked Olivia, Darla gave Cassie the leash, and although Cassie cried again, she held it, and walked Olivia, while Darla walked beside her, and held her hand.

Slowly but surely, Darla was separating Cassie from Olivia...she intended to destroy Olivia in Cassie's thoughts, reduce her to an animal, a thing to be pitied and laughed at. And after Cassie had finally abandoned Olivia, finally stopped thinking of her as her mother, Darla would dispose of Olivia, and turn Cassie when she was ready, and then they would be happy together.

Darla was going to show Cassie the world. Cassie would paint landscapes in Shanghai, she would paint portraits in Vienna...

Darla wondered what Cassie would be like after she turned her; she thought it would be a tragedy if Cassie lost that bright, beautiful, fragile thing inside her.

The dog-walking sessions were important, perhaps the most important part of Darla's plans for Cassie, and she couldn't allow Olivia to interfere. So she'd had a good long talk with Olivia the first night Cassie was to come along, as she put the leash around Olivia's neck; Darla told Olivia in no uncertain terms exactly how she expected her to behave on their walks with Cassie, and she told her exactly what she would do to her and her entire family if she didn't behave, and then she spent a full hour demonstrating that she meant what she said. Darla had lived a long time and had learned a lot about hurting people over the centuries; she knew how to inflict pain without leaving any visible wounds. By the time Darla was done hurting her Olivia would have done anything to make the pain stop; Darla was certain Olivia would have disowned Drusilla like Angelus wanted right then and there, but Angelus had said it wasn't time for that yet. When Angelus came up with a new scheme, everything had to be just so.

Darla told Olivia that she expected her to piss and shit the way a dog does, by a tree in the yard. Olivia had been losing a lot of weight; she'd been tied to the bed ever since that first night Darla and Angelus had arrived and she hadn't been given anything other than water for the first couple of days. But once Darla had decided she wanted Cassie she began feeding Olivia to make sure she'd be able to shit on their walks; it was very important to Darla that Cassie see her mother defecating on the ground like a dog.

That first night that Cassie came along went perfectly. Darla had been taking Cassie's blood for a week by then and Cassie was becoming addicted; it made her calmer, less excitable. Olivia crawled dutifully around the yard, naked on her leash, and she was careful, as Darla had instructed her, not to look at Cassie even once. She sniffed at things, like a dog, the way Darla had told her to. When Darla stopped at a tree in the yard, and gave Olivia a little nudge with her foot, Olivia pissed and shit by the tree, looking down at the ground.

Cassie couldn't look. She held her head in her hands, and covered her eyes, and cried. Darla hugged her.

The second night, Darla had Olivia fetch a stick. She took Olivia off her leash to do it, but it wasn't a risk; Olivia had been down on all fours for so long Darla thought she'd have trouble standing, and even if she did manage to stand Darla could run the woman down with ease. And Olivia always did whatever she and Angelus told her to, because Olivia knew her family were hostages...

Olivia didn't know Veronica and her husband were dead. She never asked about her family, because Angelus had warned her never to talk without being spoken to. Olivia's eyes told Darla she still had some hope left, hope of surviving this ordeal with her daughters alive, and Darla knew Angelus needed that hope to remain, for a little while longer at least.

Now that he'd finished with Veronica, Darla knew it was just a matter of time before Angelus turned his attentions to Olivia. She was broken already, Darla knew Olivia would do anything Angelus said. But the walks on the leash with Cassie along were having exactly the effect Darla wanted, and she didn't want Olivia dead just yet; she had told Angelus that she wanted Olivia alive for the time being, and he had assented.

"Are you looking forward to dinner with Dru tonight?" Darla said.

"Yes, mother, very much so," Cassie said. "Will...will Angelus...I mean...father...be there too?"

Darla knew Cassie was still afraid of Angelus. It was one of the reasons they had decided to have dinners together as a family now; Cassie needed to become used to him. It would take her some time; she was a skittish girl. But Angelus had promised to be on his best behavior. And Darla thought perhaps she'd let Angelus take Cassie's virginity, as long as he promised to be gentle with her. Darla knew Cassie was attracted to him even as she was frightened of him, and she also knew Angelus could be an angel when he wanted to; he could make girls fall in love with him, even without taking their blood. She wasn't sure, though; part of her wanted to keep Cassie for herself. Angelus already had Dru.

And Darla was angry with Angelus; she was angry with him, for what he put Drusilla through with her father in the study.

It felt strange to Darla, being angry over that; but she was, and though she didn't really understand why she should be, the fact remained.

"Yes, he will," Darla said. "But I'm sure you'll find that he can be wonderfully kind, if you'll just give him a chance, Cassie. Will you give him a chance? Will you be nice to him? His feelings would be terribly hurt, if you were short-tempered with him. He's really very sensitive."

"I'll be nice to him, mother," Cassie said.

"Good," Darla said, and kissed her cheek. "Now what say you help me get started on that pound cake?"

Dinner was perfect that night; it was even better than Darla could have hoped. They had a lovely six-course meal culminating in roast duck, which both Dru and Cassie complimented her on. Dru sat close to Angelus and seemed very comfortable with him, and she and Cassie were all laughs and giggles for the whole meal; they acted like they had never been separated. Cassie had been nervous around Angelus at first, but he had a way with girls, and he had charmed her, and smiled, and told his ridiculous old Irish jokes, and played the clown for her amusement, and held her in his eyes; within fifteen minutes she was practically eating out of his hand.

He gave Darla a look, after he'd been at the table with the girls for a few minutes, and he had managed to make Cassie laugh that first time; Darla knew Angelus backwards and forwards and she knew the look was an apology. He took her hand under the table, and they held hands for the rest of the meal.

After the meal Angelus insisted they have their cake in the parlor, and it turned out he had a surprise for them: when Darla and Dru and Cassie followed him into the parlor they saw one of Cassie's paintings, a portrait of herself and Dru, hanging on the wall above the sofa, replacing the old family portrait that had hung there before. He'd hung it up while they were cooking. They sat on the couch together after that, eating pound cake and laughing, and Darla leaned her head on his shoulder.

Even Olivia's walk afterwards went off without a hitch: Cassie was much calmer with Drusilla there, and for whatever reason, Drusilla wasn't making a fuss. It was the first time Drusilla had seen her mother since she was put in the closet, but she hardly even bothered to look at her. Instead she looked at Cassie, and held Cassie's hand as Cassie held her mother's leash, and she held Angelus' hand, too.

Olivia did what she was told; she knew if she didn't she'd be killed. She thought her daughters would be killed too, because that's what she had been threatened with, and that and the pain Darla inflicted upon her every day kept her compliant. Darla liked hurting Olivia. Olivia should have stood up to her husband, should have fought for Cassie and Dru, and she didn't. Some days, when they were alone and Darla was torturing her, Darla came close to killing her. Every day now, she gave Olivia an hour of pain. It made Olivia a perfectly obedient dog.

"I think the dog would like to play a game," Darla said, taking Olivia's leash off as Olivia shit beside a tree. Olivia didn't cry anymore on their walks; Cassie became disturbed when Olivia cried, so Darla had begun stressing, in her daily sessions with Olivia, the importance of not crying. Darla allowed Olivia to cry when they were alone together on their morning walks just before sunrise, but not on the evening walk with Cassie. "Who'd like to have the dog fetch a stick?"

Cassie looked down at the ground, and stopped smiling, the moment Darla said it; Darla knew Cassie hadn't completely let go of her mother yet, and it would take time. But she was making progress; Cassie didn't cry anymore, when Darla made Olivia fetch the stick. She became sullen, but she didn't cry, and her mood always became bright again later, when Darla took her blood, and they went to sleep together.

Drusilla suddenly giggled.

"I want to see doggie fetch the stick," Drusilla said, and picked up part of a tree branch from the ground, and whacked Olivia across the shoulders with it, hard. Olivia yelped, but she didn't look up at Drusilla; Darla had warned her about making eye contact with her daughters.

"Go fetch, doggie!" Drusilla shouted, and giggled again, as she threw the branch across the yard. Olivia crawled toward it. She'd gotten used to moving on all fours now, and although she couldn't move very quickly, she no longer collapsed when she did it. Her arms had become much stronger. Olivia made it all the way to the stick without resting on the way, and picked it up in her mouth.

Angelus watched Dru carefully while Olivia fetched the stick, and Darla kept her eye on Cassie.

"Oh, the doggie won't bring the stick back," Drusilla said, frowning suddenly, as Olivia took a moment to rest before coming back. "Doggie's trying to keep the stick to herself. She's a bad doggie."

Angelus turned Drusilla toward him, and looked her in the eyes.

"You think she's a bad doggie, darlin'?" he said.

"Doggies should know tricks," Drusilla said. "She's not doing it right."

"What do you think we should do?" Angelus said. "How can we make her a good doggie?"

Darla noticed that Cassie was watching Drusilla very carefully now. Cassie had a nervous little half-smile on her face, and her eyes seemed very moist.

"We should punish her, Daddy," Drusilla said. "Unless she brings that stick back right now we should give her a good smack on the nose."

Angelus looked at her, held her in his eyes, tried to read what was there.

Then Drusilla did something she had never done before.

She broke his grip. She turned away from his gaze, before he released her.

At that moment, any random passerby could have knocked Angelus over with a feather.

"Dru?" Cassie said.

Drusilla looked at Cassie, and smiled, and held her in her eyes.

"We're a family, red robin. This is our Daddy," she said, and kissed Angelus' cheek. "And this..."

Drusilla put her arms around Darla, and hugged her. Darla was taken by surprise at first, but she quickly hugged Drusilla back.

"This is our mother," Drusilla said.

Drusilla held her hand out to Cassie. Cassie took Drusilla's hand, and Drusilla brought her close, and Darla brought Cassie into their embrace too.

"We mustn't get too attached to pets, Cassie," Drusilla said, still smiling at her little sister. "They can be disobedient. They can be bad, and they can be a nuisance. Sometimes they do their duty in the house. Sometimes it's better not to have a dog. Maybe we could get a cat instead."

"Would you like that, Dru?" Angelus said, watching the three of them like a hawk. Darla looked back at him; he could tell she had no idea what game Drusilla was playing at either. "Would you like a new pet? But it would mean getting rid of the dog." He wasn't sure where he was going with this; she'd thrown him, and he was scrambling to catch up now. He needed to feel her out; get a sense of her.

"I'd very much like a cat, I think," Drusilla said. "An Abyssinian, perhaps. They're very pretty cats."

"But...what about the dog, Dru?" Cassie said.

Darla smiled. It was a breakthrough; it was the first time Cassie had referred to her mother as a dog.

"The dog was never very nice to us," Drusilla said. "I don't think the dog ever cared for us at all. She was Mr. Morgan's dog, Cassie, she was never ours. She was Veronica's dog."

Darla watched Cassie. She could see Cassie putting things together. Darla had always known it would only be a matter of time before this came up. She and Angelus had both known it would be a risk...

"Dru...did you see Veronica?" Cassie said.

Everything depended on Drusilla now.

"I told you, Cassie, Veronica decided to go away," Darla said, in her gentlest, most reassuring tone. "We asked her to be part of our family, and she said no. So she packed some things and left. I believe she said something about seeing France."

Drusilla looked at Cassie, and smiled.

"Scotland," Drusilla said. "Veronica always wanted to go see Scotland. That's where she told me she was going, with Mr. Morgan, when I saw their carriage off."

"When did they leave, Dru?" Cassie said.

"Last night," Drusilla said. "I told them they should say goodbye to you, but you were sleeping and they were in a hurry. I told them they were being very rude but it didn't matter, that we had our real family here with us anyway."

Cassie nodded, and looked down at the ground. Angelus and Darla could tell she believed Dru, but she looked depressed now. But she moved closer to Darla, and leaned her head on her shoulder.

Drusilla smiled at her again.

"This is our family, Cassie, right here," Drusilla said. "You and me, and Daddy and mother. The dog is just a pet. The dog isn't part of the family. Especially when they're bad dogs, and they can't do a simple trick."

Angelus looked toward Olivia. Olivia was making her way back now. She was tired, so she moved slow.

Drusilla suddenly pinched Cassie's waist. Cassie jumped, and giggled.

"Do you think Daddy's cross with us?" Drusilla whispered in Cassie's ear, glancing mischievously at Angelus out of the corner of her eye, and smiling.

"Now why would you think that, precious?" Angelus said.

"Then why won't you give us a hug?" Drusilla said. "Mother's giving us a hug, and she made us that wonderful cake. But you're positively pouting over there. I think your britches are too tight."

Cassie giggled again.

"Yes, Angelus, do stop pouting," Darla said, and giggled herself. She knew Drusilla was up to something, but she didn't care: whatever Drusilla's scheme was, it was working wonders with Cassie. "Come here and give your pretty girls a hug."

Angelus met Drusilla's eyes. She didn't flinch from him. For a moment, as he looked at her, Angelus wasn't sure what he saw there...but then he understood. He knew she was scheming; he knew she wasn't broken yet. She was pretending, and doing a very good job of it too, but she was holding on to part of herself... exactly as he wanted her to. Exactly as his plan required.

He smiled, and joined their embrace.

"Now we're a happy family," Drusilla said, and thought about her little silver jewelry box, with the red velvet lining inside and the lock on the outside, and the word it contained.

"Tell me, from the beginning," Giles said. They were sitting in the living room. Buffy sat on the couch, with a big shopping bag full of first aid supplies on the floor in front of her. He sat on the recliner. They drank tea.

Buffy had done this a hundred times before, but tonight felt different...

Everything was different now.

"I can't stay long, I want to get Faith home," Buffy said.

"Did she finally give in? Is she staying with you?" Giles said.

"Yeah. It was like banging my head against a wall but I finally got through to her. You just gotta be patient with her. And occasionally scream at her, and eat egg mcmuffins with her."

"Well if she didn't give in soon I would have made her stay with me. And I'm fairly certain my record collection and my complete lack of cable television and all the other things you're always complaining about here would have driven her to distraction, so it's a good thing she finally came to her senses."

"Yup, all kinds of stuff to drive Faith to distraction here," Buffy said, with a little smile. "Anyway I think my Mom being on vacation for a couple weeks made it a little easier for her to say yes. Faith's...weird around my Mom."

"Joyce is a delightful woman. Why wouldn't Faith like her?"

"It's not that. It's...Rebecca."

"Yes. I see. That's going to take time, Buffy."

"I got time. Okay, so...there's not much to tell. I show up at the Bronze after laying down the law with Willy and a couple of those wolf vamps have Faith down and Xander and Willow are on the floor too."

"Are they all right?"

"Yeah, bumps and bruises. But they're gonna be staying at my place too. These vamps are after Will and I have no idea why and I can't take chances, I want her and Xander with me. And the vamps didn't want to kill her, at least not right there. They wanted to take her. They tried to drag her out of there."

"Strange. But we can assume it has something to do with her magic."

"Maybe they heard about what she did to Kakistos?"

"If they were afraid of her power why not simply kill her there? Why try to kidnap her?"

"Good point," Buffy said, and sat back and sighed, and sipped her tea. "No idea. Add it to the humungous pile of stuff we don't know."

"Was Willy any help?" Giles said.

"He had an address for one of the vamps who delivered the package. But that's backburner stuff; we've got the Key now. We need to figure out how to go at these new vamps, and what they want with Willow."

"If this vampire is your only lead, well, a slim lead is better than none."

"I'll check it out once Faith is a hundred percent. I can't leave any of them alone, Giles. Not with these new vamps out there. Sure, we'll be at my house but these new vamps strike me as the types that would have no problem just burning my house down and forcing us all out. Regular vamps try to keep a low profile, but these guys, twenty of them ran right into the Bronze."

"I should check on Faith. I can help with the bandages."

"No, I'll take care of her," Buffy said, and got up. "I've watched you fixing me up enough, I can do bandages and a splint and stuff okay. I want you looking through your books and figuring out why these vamps are after Willow."

"All right," Giles said. "I'll come by tomorrow to see Faith and I'll let you know if I've found anything."

"These swords," Buffy said, and pointed down to the scabbard she had hanging from her belt, and smiled. "If she didn't have that sword, Faith would be dead and Willow would be gone. So...you were right about the swords."

"I told you," Giles said, and smiled, that winsome smile he had that showed off his dimples. "Rule number one. Your Watcher is always right."

"Rule number two maybe," Buffy said. "You're being insufferably pleased with yourself, aren't you?"

"Well, not quite insufferably. Perhaps inordinately."

"Yeah, that's it," Buffy said, and giggled. "You're being totally inordinate. I gotta go."

She picked up her shopping bag, and walked away. Then she turned, and looked at him.

"You're very impressive, you know that?" she said.

"I do have my moments," Giles said.

"Okay," Buffy said, and got in the car and gently rested Faith's head back in her lap, and put her shopping bag down by her feet. She made sure Faith was warm under the coat she had draped over her, tucking it in tight all around her like a blanket, as Xander pulled away from the curb. "How's she been?"

"Just sleeping," Willow said.

"And saying goofy things," Xander said.

"Yeah, she does that," Buffy said, and smiled. "What about?"

"Sounded like checkers," Willow said.

"I'm not sure, and I'd need to check the Watchers Chronicles with Giles, but she might be the goofiest Slayer ever," Buffy said.

"I think she's definitely in the running, but she's also up for the gold in most guts ever too," Xander said. "Not to mention ass-kicking. She medals in three different events."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "She does. Actually four."

Willow grinned, and then blushed.

"Okay, so my house then Will's, stop off for donuts real quick then your place," Xander said. "And then it's time for chef Xander to strut his stuff."

Xander," Buffy said. "We have to have a fight now."

"Uh...what?" Xander said, and turned and looked at her. Willow turned too...and when she saw Buffy's eyes, she knew.

"We're gonna fight," Buffy said. "Because I'm gonna tell you something you don't wanna hear. But before I do, there are three ground rules for this fight."

"Should I be like, scared here?" Xander said.

"No," Buffy said. "But you're gonna be angry. But there are ground rules, Xander, okay? First ground rule is, Faith's trying to sleep so I'm not kidding Xander, don't raise your voice. Don't yell."

"Uh...okay," Xander said. "What else?"

"The second rule is we are where we are. We've got all these super wolf vamps after us and guys out there still trying to end the world and I'm making tough choices. And you both don't have to like them all but I need you to get onboard. I'm sorry it sounds so bitchy but we're at war and that's just how it is. We didn't ask for it but we've got it. You've both almost been killed twice in twenty-four hours and I can't allow that. So I need you both to fall in line and get behind the decisions I make whether you agree with them or not."

"That does sound bitchy," Willow said. "Doesn't just sound it. Kinda is."

"I know, Will," Buffy said. "This isn't like I don't think you guys pull your weight, you know that. You think I don't know who the most powerful person in this car is? That I don't know it's not me, or Faith? But we're under attack, and yeah, I'll listen to both of you and when I make a move I'll want your advice first, you know that, that's how it's always been and that won't change. I respect you both, I respect what you both bring to the table. I always have. If I didn't you wouldn't be out here with me. But I'm gonna be the one who decides in the end. We can debate stuff around for awhile and I'll listen and maybe you'll change my mind about stuff, I won't make a move without running it by you guys. But I'm the Slayer and at the end of the day I have to do this. At the end of the day the final decisions are mine."

"What do you think Faith will say about that, General?" Xander said.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," Buffy said.

"Weren't there three ground rules?" Xander said.

"The third rule is I love you," Buffy said. "I love you both and I'm sorry about this. I don't want it to come between us. If it does I won't forgive myself."

"It won't come between us, Buffy," Xander said.

"You haven't heard what I have to tell you, Xander," Buffy said.

"It won't," Willow said, and took Buffy's hand. "Though, um, there's probably gonna be a lotta grumpiness first."

"You know, don't you?" Xander said.

"Yeah," Willow said.

"And you didn't tell me," Xander said.

"Not my place," Willow said. "It's Buffy's place."

"Yeah, okay, I guess I get that. Okay, so, after all that build-up I'm assuming this isn't Buffy tearfully admitting that she got my Smashing Pumpkins CD all scratched up," Xander said.

"Angel's alive," Buffy said. "And we need him, and I'm gonna ask for his help on this."

Xander sat silently for a moment, looking straight ahead at the road.

Then he said, "You have got to be fucking shitting me."

He turned and looked at Buffy, his face red. "You have got to be fucking shitting me!" he shouted.

"Ground rule number one," Buffy said.

"What, and if I disobey it you're gonna send me to the fucking stockade, General?" Xander said, still very loud.

"Faith's trying to sleep!" Buffy hissed.

Xander shook his head, wrenched the car to the side of the road, slammed the brakes, parked about five feet out from the curb on a quiet side street, shut the motor off, and walked out the door without bothering to shut it. Buffy and Willow watched him walking down the deserted street in the dark, alone.

"You knew this day was coming," Willow said.

"Yeah," Buffy said. "And would you believe it's actually going better than I thought it would?"

"I'll go talk to him," Willow said, and started to get up.

"No, Will," Buffy said, and put her hand on her shoulder. "I have to talk to him. It has to be me, I have to fix this...if it's even fixable. Could you just stay with Faith for me? I don't want her alone."

"Buffy...I don't...I just want you to know that I'm...I'm okay with it. You and I argued last month in the cemetery but...I know he's got his soul back. Yeah, the stuff he did...to you and me and Jenny and...those kids...not saying I'm all fine with all that, but...I know Angelus and Angel aren't the same."

"Thanks. I just...I always wanted to tell you he was back, Will. I mean, I didn't ask for him back, he was just suddenly there one day, even he doesn't know how or why he was sent back...but...I always thought you wanted him gone just as much as Xander, especially with the whole 'dust him' thing."

"'Dust him'?"

"The message you told Xander to give me, when I went to fight Angelus. 'Dust him'."

"Um...what are you talking about?"

"You know, when Xander met me near Angel's mansion. I asked him if you had any luck with the re-ensouling spell, and you told him to tell me to forget it and dust Angel, remember? But then it was weird because you really did manage to re-ensoul--"

"I never said that! Xander told you I said that?"

"What do you mean you didn't say that?"

"I told Xander to tell you to stall! I never said for you to dust Angel! I told Xander I wanted you to stall as much as you could during the fight so I'd have a chance to complete the re-ensouling spell! I thought, if I could restore his soul before he opened the portal, before you had to kill him..."

"Xander lied to me," Buffy said.

She looked out the window, and watched him walking down the street.

"He lied to me," Buffy said, again, her lips pursed in a thin, hard line.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," Willow muttered, her cheeks red.

Buffy got up and stormed out of the car.

"First I get to kick his ass," Buffy said, leaning on the window. "Every square inch of it. You can have what's left of it when I'm done."

"Sounds like a plan," Willow said.

Xander stood on the corner, under a streetlamp, looking out at a softball field a block away. The street was quiet and dark and deserted and still. The moon, a bright yellow sliver, hung low and heavy in the sky above them, like a pendulum. It was a clear, cold night; Xander was wearing his heavy denim coat with the wool lining. Buffy stopped beside him, her lips still pursed in that thin, hard line. She didn't have a coat; she'd left hers with Faith, to make sure she stayed warm. She held her arms folded across her chest, and shivered a little.

"I scratched your Smashing Pumpkins CD too," Buffy said.

"Figured that, since you've had it for like eight months," Xander said.

"So who kicks whose ass first?" Buffy said. "Because boy am I gonna kick your ass. You said Willow wanted me to dust Angel when she said no such thing, said the exact opposite actually, and my boot's got your name on it."

"You're cold," he said, and took his coat off. "Put this on."

He held it out to her.

"I'm still gonna kick your ass," Buffy said. "This isn't gonna make it less of an ass-kicking."

"Fine, but I don't like seeing you cold," Xander said. "And I'm gonna kick your ass too by the way."

Buffy put on Xander's coat. "Thanks," she said.

"What are friends for," he said.

She nodded.

They sat on the bleachers in the softball field, and looked up at the stars.

"Nice night," Xander said. "Except for how my teeth are chattering. I thought this was supposed to be California."

"I have this theory that it's all Faith's fault," Buffy said. "Ever since she got here she's been changing everything around to make it the way she likes it. I think she decided the weather should be like Boston. We're probably all gonna start talking like the Mayor from The Simpsons and saying 'five by five' next."

"Plus clam chowder and baked beans. But I refuse to root for the frigging Celtics. So why does she always say 'five by five'? What does it mean?"

"No idea. Just another part of the endless mystery that is Faith."

"So, ladies first."

"Why did you lie to me? I've never lied to you."

"Right, and Angel being alive when you acted like he wasn't, so not a lie. More like a little white lie. Maybe a fib. Maybe you just exaggerated the amount of his deadness."

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you."

"So not telling the truth isn't the same thing as lying?"

"Maybe it just wasn't any of your business, Xander! Ever frigging think of that? I told you when I was ready."

"None of my business?!" Xander shouted. "What he said to Willow makes it my business! You think she's not still scared? I sleep with her, Buffy, I hear the things you don't hear. She has nightmares about him. Still. Even after all this time. Yeah, okay, our Will, she's all a super-powerful wicca goddess, right? Lightning bolts and energy shields and mind-melds. But she's still Willow. And she wasn't as powerful then as she is now and she was scared and she didn't know what to do. He scared her, Buffy! He made her...he made her feel like a victim. He didn't even have to touch her to do it. Did she tell you what he said?"

"Just...that he said he was gonna kidnap her and kill her. But...she didn't really want to talk about it," Buffy said.

"Yeah, she won't talk to me about it either. One thing about your boyfriend, he knows just how to scare people. The Master, Luke, Darla, Spike and Dru, all of them...none of them understood people like Angel. None of them were anywhere near as scary. The Master might have been tougher, but he was still just your basic asshole bad guy. He wanted to kill us all because we were in his way. But Angel..."

"Not Angel!" Buffy shouted, shoving her finger in his face. "Angelus! Angel never would have hurt any of us and don't you act like you don't know that! He saved your life and Willow's life and all our lives more than once! He put himself on the line for us! For you! Angel didn't do all those, those horrible things! Angelus did those things! SO YOU FUCKING GET IT RIGHT!"

He looked at her. Buffy's face was red; there were tears in her eyes.

He looked away.

"Fine," Xander said, eventually. "Whatever. Angelus. He wanted to hurt us because he liked us in pain. He didn't want us dead right away. He wanted us scared first, he wanted us feeling despair. He was a twisted son of a bitch and yeah, I wanted him put down for what he did to Willow and no, I'm not apologizing for it."

Buffy nodded.

"You still have the photos?" Xander said.

"Yeah," Buffy said, and hugged herself. She saw her breath, floating away in the cold. She thought of Angel's hands.

"Maybe...it's time to stop holding onto those photos, Buffy."

Buffy shook her head.

"It wasn't your fault," Xander said.

"Yeah it was," Buffy said. "Always will be. Because I loved him. He lost his soul because I loved him."

"There are a lot worse things than loving someone too much, Buffy."

They looked up at the stars.

"Pretty bright, tonight," Xander said. "Don't usually see stars like this around here. Like that group of big ones over there," he said, and pointed up at the sky. "They're pretty cool."

"Orion," Buffy said. "The Hunter. Those stars in the middle there?" she said, pointing. "They're Orion's belt."

"I'm sorry, Buffy. Not for wanting Angel dead. I'm sorry for lying to you about what Willow said."

"Tell her that. You think I wanna kick your ass? She's polishing up her boot. But not just because of the lie."

"No? What else did I do?"

"You wanted Angel dead because of what Angelus did. I get that. But that wasn't the only thing you had against him. You were jealous. You were jealous because he was my boyfriend and you weren't."

"I'm past that. I thought we were both past that."

"Willow isn't. Xander, use your head. How do you think she feels? She's had a crush on you like, beyond forever and you passed her up all those years, always looking for something better. She was, what? Your safety net girl?"

"That's not...how it was."

"Bullshit."

"She was...I saw her as a friend."

"Yeah, a friend you asked out when everyone else passed. Finding out tonight you lied about what she said just brings all that back for her. Because she knows part of the reason you did it was you had a crush on me. And now I have to deal with it too. Whether I like it or not she'll resent me too, a little. She won't mean to, she won't want to. But she will, because you wanted me and not her."

"I'll fix it."

"Good luck. You know she's always been a little down on herself. Even though she's always been pretty, and confident, and strong, she doesn't think she's any of those things. And now just when she was starting to feel a little bit good about herself this comes up."

"Okay, sure, fine. I admit it, I was a jerk, okay? And I'll fix it, I'll find a way to fix it. But maybe another little thing that's gonna be on her mind now? Besides the fact that I had a crush on you? Is the fact that the guy who threatened to kidnap her and kill her is back and you wanna invite him over for pizza."

"That was Angelus," Buffy said, quietly.

"Funny thing about Angelus," Xander said, and looked hard at her. "He always looked just like Angel to me."

They looked down at the ground together.

"We need him, Xander," Buffy said. "You know, whether you admit it to me or not I know you know that when Angel has his soul he'd never hurt Willow, or you, or me. And we need him now. I'm at war and I need soldiers."

"When I see him I'm gonna see the guy who said those things to Willow," Xander said.

"I'm bringing him in, Xander. And I need to know you're okay with it. That you'll deal. I need him but I need you too. I can't do this without you."

Xander laughed. "Why? Need someone to fetch donuts that bad?" he said.

Buffy looked at him, looked into his eyes.

"You're a real dope sometimes," she said. "I need you because you're in my heart, Xander. If I didn't have you by my side I'd wither up and die, I wouldn't be able to face this every day. This life? If you could, y'know, call it that? I wouldn't be able to get up in the morning and face it every day without you. I would've died a long time ago."

"How the hell did we end up here?" Xander said, shaking his head. "Remember back before you knew there were vampires? When the most pressing thing in your life was, what? Finding a date Saturday night? Homework? Getting your learner's permit? What the hell happened to us? Where did our lives go?"

"They just...faded away," Buffy said. "But...we have each other, right?

"Yeah. That makes it okay. Plus hey, Scooby Gang's got a new member."

"I'm still Daphne. No way is Faith Daphne."

They looked up at the sky again.

"What's that one?" Xander said, pointing up at the sky.

"Big Dipper," Buffy said.

"Why's it called that?"

"Looks kinda like a pan. See like, the handle over there?" Buffy said, pointing at it.

"How do you know this stuff again?" Xander said.

"I was an astronomy geek when I was a kid," Buffy said. "Telescope, the works. Plus chemistry. And dinosaurs."

"Yeah, dinosaurs are cool. I was all about stegosaurus when I was a kid."

"Yeah, me too. I mean, the T-Rex is flashy and everything, but I really liked stegosaurus. All the big plates on its back and the tail spikes were neat."

"I kinda got back into dinosaurs a little when Jurassic Park hit. I was all about velociraptors for awhile."

"Nah, the velociraptors in that movie were fake. According to the fossil record they were a lot smaller in real life. Plus they would have had feathers."

They sat together for awhile, quietly. It was cold out there but it wasn't uncomfortable.

"So, not that I'm eager to risk pissing you off again, but..." Xander finally said.

"Oh God," Buffy said, and smiled. "What did you do now?"

"I talked with Faith. She's gonna get me in shape, teach me how to fight, how to use weapons."

"Wonderful. That just made my frigging day."

"Will's out there with you, Buffy. I can't have her out there without me watching her back. And I can't watch her back if I can't at least handle myself in a fight. I'm doing this."

"Sure, whatever. And hey, maybe when you die me and Will can be all weepy at your funeral and you can be all looking down from Heaven like, 'Yup, I was the man. Check out the hotties crying over me.' And maybe you'll die real heroically and we'll even build you a statue."

"Don't be pissed at Faith. I asked her for this, she's giving up her time to do me a big favor here."

"I'll kick her ass later," Buffy said.

"Don't kick her ass," Xander said.

"Don't worry. I can never stay angry with her. Believe me, I've tried."

"So. That thing with the mind-meld in the car..."

"Yeah."

"You love her."

"Yeah."

"And she loves you."

"According to Will's weird-ass mind-meld mojo. Are you...you're not gonna freak, are you?"

"Nah. You guys...I like you together. She makes you happy."

"Yeah. Thanks. It's...weird. We're feeling our way through it. Neither of us expected this. But...we both want to try. See where it goes."

"Yeah. I, uh, never thought you preferred girls."

"Preaching to the choir."

"So are you...uh...a lesbian now?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "I guess I always was...but...I was always confused before. I mean, I dated guys, and there was Angel...and then at the same time I always thought girls were pretty too. But I never gave a lot of thought to that, to girls...until I met Faith. I met Faith, and then...being with her, I just knew. I just knew that was where I was supposed to be."

Xander grinned.

"What?" Buffy said.

Xander started giggling. Buffy smiled.

"What?" she said. "Oh my God I'm giving you such a punch in a minute."

"Maybe you guys should have a cat," Xander said.

"Shut up," Buffy said, and started giggling too.

"And like, drink herbal tea," Xander said.

"Shut up."

"You can wear loose sweaters, and birkenstocks..."

"Shut up."

"And like, cut your hair short. Maybe buzz cuts. You guys would look cute with buzz cuts."

"Shut up."

"You could both move to San Francisco."

"Shut up."

"Ani DiFranco albums."

"Shut up. And besides, I like K.D. Lang."

They giggled together, and she took his hand.

"Buffy, how could you love Angel?" Xander said. "I never understood it. After the things he did? I don't mean the recent stuff, you didn't see that coming. I mean what he did a couple-hundred years ago. Yeah, okay, he had his soul when you fell in love with him. But he still did those things...part of him that's still there, even when he has his soul, did those things. How could you love him?"

"We don't get to pick who we're gonna fall in love with, Xander," Buffy said. "Love picks us."

"Do you still love him?"

"Yeah. I always will."

"What about Faith?"

"I love her too."

"But...Buffy...you're gonna have to choose one of them."

Buffy looked up at the stars again.

"Already have," she said.

"I had to choose, Daddy," Drusilla said, as she stood before Angel in the courtyard, a blood red rose in a garden of jasmine flowers. "I had to choose, between you and Spike...my father and my son, my old love and my new. So I made my choice. I chose you. And now you have to make a choice, Daddy. You can have these withered old flowers, dying on the vine. Or you can have me, your thorny rose, your bloody beating heart. Your blackbird. But you can't have both. That would be cheating. Naughty."

Her scent came to him...roses. The scent of the jasmine flowers came to him too. But Drusilla's scent seemed much stronger than the jasmine now.

"Do I look beautiful in red?" Drusilla said.

"Yeah," Angel said. "You always did."

Drusilla took off her gloves, and slipped off her shoes. She smiled, and turned around modestly, and slid out of her dress like a snake discarding its skin.

"Do you want to be gentle with me?" she said, looking at him over her shoulder, and snarling a little now as she smiled. "I rather think you don't."

She unclasped her bra, and dropped it to the ground. She pulled down her panties, and stepped out of them. She turned to him, and stood naked before him.

"I belong with you," Drusilla said.

Drusilla sat down on the granite bench, and crossed her legs demurely.

"Play a game with me, Daddy," Drusilla said. "You know I love our games."

She laid herself down on the bench, turned over onto her stomach, and thrust her ass up into the air. She stretched out on the bench on all fours, scratching at it with nails so sharp they could eviscerate a man, and smiled up at Angel and showed him her teeth like an animal ready to pounce. Her hair was night black and her lips were full and red as strawberries and her eyes were ice blue like a winter sky that went on forever, but her skin was pure, unblemished white. Her body, stretched taut, was lean and sinewy, all sharp angles and hard planes. She had a predator's body, strong and fast, built for hunting, for running prey to ground, but her skin was soft and smooth as cream. She was fierce and beautiful and she burned for him, but Angel knew Drusilla was cold...he knew she was a dead thing. She rested her head on her hands, and smiled, and watched him, and waited.

Angel wanted her. He felt like he hadn't ever wanted anyone so much in his whole life. And he knew he could have her...

But was this even really Drusilla? And if not, what was she?

He looked down at her. She smiled up at him.

"You and Spike never got along," Drusilla said. "Ever wonder why?"

"Always figured it was because Spike was a royal pain in my ass," Angel said.

Drusilla smiled dreamily, and shook her head.

"It had nothing to do with him," she said. "And everything to do with me. You used to take me all the time, my jealous Daddy...and you always made sure my little Spike knew it."

"I took a lot of things in those days," Angel said.

"But only one thing that belonged to you. I love you, Angelus. I belong to you. I was always with you...even when I was with him, I was with you."

Angel nodded.

"Do you love me?" Drusilla said.

"Yeah," Angel said...and he knew that he did. He always had.

"Show me," Drusilla said. "Take what's yours. Play a game with me."

Angel approached the granite bench.

He thought about Buffy.

But he could never have her...and he knew he had lost her. He knew Drusilla was right.

He reached out to Drusilla, to touch her hair...

"Not that game," Drusilla said, shaking her head. "A new game. The thing that's burning you away, it can be gotten rid of. We can shoo it away, you and me; we can send that evil thing flying back up into the sky. Fly away, fly away...you just have to take what's yours, Daddy. You just have to let yourself be happy again."

She was beautiful. She smelled like roses. At that moment, Angel thought she was even more beautiful than...

"Buffy," Drusilla said. "Take her, Daddy. Take Buffy, the way you took me. Stab into her, bury that burning thing inside her, lose that disgusting soul in her, throw off your burden forever. Lose your guilt, your hesitation, your weakness, lose it all in her. Have that moment of perfect happiness, that perfect release..."

Drusilla growled, like a hungry wolf.

"Taste her blood," she said. "You know it's sweet, you've tasted her before. Gobble her up, drink every last drop of her. When you take her light into your darkness, and snuff it out, there will be no more whispers...all those souls that haunt you, that lie to you and whisper terrible things, that tell you that you shouldn't run free, they'll fly away, and be gone forever. When Buffy dies, you'll finally be able to live again...with me."

"So we're good?" Buffy said, as she and Xander headed out of the park. "About me bringing in Angel?"

"I won't try to kill him," Xander said. "That's it. Take it or leave it."

"If he agrees to help, he'll be staying at the house with us."

"Yeah. You know, you're gonna have your hands full with Faith on this. She doesn't know the first thing about Angel, all she knows about is whatever Rebecca told her about Angelus. Convincing Faith that Angel's one of the good guys now will be tough."

"Yeah. I know. Not looking forward to that discussion. It's...gonna test us. It's gonna test what we have."

"Worried?"

"Yeah. But if what we have is meant to be? If it isn't just...I don't know, puppy love, a mutual crush, whatever? It'll survive it."

"Oh, hey, almost forgot. Today's Faith's birthday."

"What? Really?"

"Yup. November fourteenth. Will saw it in her head. Faith's eighteen today. We should do something tomorrow. A cake and presents and stuff."

"Yeah. We will. So she's a couple months older than me. I didn't know that. Weird."

"Weird?"

Buffy took off Xander's coat. "She's just kinda like...a little sister to me," she said. "I always sort of think of her as younger. I like taking care of her. Here. Take this. The last thing Will needs to see right now is me wearing your coat."

"Good point," Xander said, and put his coat back on.

"Xander...Will says she'll be okay with Angel. But...will she be? I can tell him to make sure she doesn't see him. He can do that. He's good at disappearing."

"Yeah. He stays the hell away from me too? Bonus."

"I'm gonna kick your ass," Willow said, when they got back to the car.

"Bring it on, Will," Xander said, as he started it up. "I deserve it. I'm sorry, but sorry doesn't cut it. So I throw myself on the mercy of the court."

He looked at her. Her face was red, and she was sitting as far away from him as possible, looking out the window, and avoiding his eyes.

She turned, and looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Will," Xander said. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

She nodded, and took his hand.

"The ass kicking?" he said.

"When we get home," she said.

"How's Faith?" Buffy said, sitting in back with Faith's head in her lap.

"Talking in her sleep about James Bond movies," Willow said. "She likes Adrian Paul."

"Paul? Seriously?" Xander said, as he pulled away from the curb.

"I like Paul too," Willow said.

"Yup, and he was awesome," Xander said. "Best Bond ever. I just...uh... didn't think Faith had good taste in Bonds. Thought she'd pick like, Moore."

"Aw, that's sweet, how you're groveling," Buffy said. "You give good grovel, Xander."

"Keep it coming," Willow said, with a little smile.

After Drusilla left--simply disappearing, as if she had never been there in the first place, the way Leah and Darla had before her--Angel went back into his mansion, and plodded down the cold, dark, echoing halls, to the bedroom. He needed to think, and maybe sleep...and he was tired of jasmine.

He snuffed out the candles on the mahogany nightstand, threw himself on the bed, and let the silk sheets embrace him...

He frowned. The jasmine scent was here, too. But it wasn't flowers, this time. It was faint, but he could still detect it...Buffy's scent...it had been a couple of months, but she was still there.

He thought about what Drusilla had said...how Buffy was with Faith now. Drusilla never lied to him. Not since he turned her.

He had never seen Faith, but he knew her scent: fruity, like a peach. With a hint of muskiness underneath. Buffy had Faith's scent on her the last couple of times he'd seen her; Faith's scent had been strong on her. He thought of Buffy, with Faith...he thought of her, letting Faith kiss her...letting Faith love her.

Faith could have Buffy, in a way he never could again...if he tried to have Buffy that way, he could lose his soul...

Take her, Daddy, he heard Drusilla saying. It seemed to echo through the room.

Taste her blood.

He looked out into the darkness. The room felt cold.

He thought about it. He thought of himself, taking Buffy. He saw it in his mind.

He saw Buffy beneath him...crying, helpless, pleading...like all the others. He smelled her jasmine scent.

He had never taken her before. He had loved her, and been gentle with her. He had given himself to her. They had shared themselves with each other. He had taken thousands of women, but never her.

But he knew he could take her...if he really wanted to, he knew she wouldn't be able to stop him. Because she would hesitate...part of her would refuse to believe it was happening.

She wouldn't be able to stop him. She'd stopped Angelus once before, but Angel knew that when he was Angelus, he could be impulsive, undisciplined. He was himself now. He was patient. Methodical. She was stronger but he knew he was the better fighter. If he went after Buffy now, stalked her, hunted her, he knew she would never see him coming...by the time she understood what was happening, it would be too late...he'd have her.

Are you satisfied, Angelus? he heard Darla saying, more than a century before. You win again.

He knew he could have Buffy. He knew he could have anything he wanted, if he just reached out his hand, and took it. Anything in the world could be his...or anyone. He just had to take it...take them.

You always win.

He could come up with a plan. It would be easy. He could capture Buffy and take her; maybe even turn her. He could have both Buffy and Drusilla in his bed in a matter of days. He could go after Faith too, after he'd taken Buffy; he could use Buffy as a hostage, draw Faith out. If she loved Buffy like Drusilla had said, he could force Faith to turn herself over to him. He could make Faith watch, as he took Buffy in front of her...

Was life about good and evil? Or was it simply about strength and weakness?

He knew he was weak. But there was a time when he had been strong... when he had been hard, cold, merciless...taking what he wanted...

He felt the demon inside him. He felt Angelus, laughing at him. Biding his time...waiting for Angel to make that one mistake, to indulge in that single moment of weakness...to let his guard down...to set his burden down.

That moment would be all Angelus needed. Angel knew if he took Buffy, Angelus would take him...and then he would be gone for good.

But would that be so bad? He didn't want to live; he hadn't wanted to live since his soul was returned a century before. Life was a burden, it was a weight around his neck. And that weight would be there forever...he wasn't even allowed to die.

Buffy was allowed to be a predator...she was allowed to be happy. But he wasn't. She was allowed to be what she was...but he wasn't. She could revel in her strength, but he wasn't allowed to revel in his own. She could be a Slayer... with Faith...

Buffy hadn't even waited. He had to love her forever, and not ever have anyone else, while she moved right on to the next man...or the next girl.

Angel knew taking Buffy would be painful; it would break his heart, it would tear him to pieces. But he thought that pain might only be fleeting...and when it was over, he might be happy again: he'd be sharp and strong and fast, black, pitiless, immortal and endless, with an ice cold heart, and his eyes always burning...he'd be a hunter again, a predator. If he let himself take Buffy, stab into her, he'd have his moment of perfect happiness...his perfect release...

No, he thought. Not perfect happiness...perfect despair.

And perhaps the demon that would be unleashed when he took Buffy would be some new creature: not Angelus, but something even more terrible...a monster with a soul...

He shook his head. He was being ridiculous; he knew he wasn't going to hurt Buffy. He was a vampire, and he had a demon inside him; and having a demon inside him just meant that sometimes these sorts of thoughts came to him. But he always dismissed them, because he was a person, too. He could fight against the demon inside him, and the thoughts the demon put into his head. He could choose: choose to be good, to be strong.

He had a soul. And it hurt, and it burned, and it was a burden...and it meant having a choice. It meant having to choose, every single moment.

Life was about strength and weakness. And, as much as he wanted Buffy, he knew taking her would be weak.

So Angel decided he was going to be strong. This moment. The moment after this didn't matter yet; he would cross that bridge when he came to it. For this moment, Angel was going to choose to be strong.

But when he thought about Buffy with someone else...when he thought of Buffy letting that girl make love to her...it still felt like a betrayal. It felt like a sword through his heart.

He felt his soul. It felt heavy.

It was a burden...and he wished he could just set it down.

He tried to stop thinking about Buffy and that new Slayer...he tried to stop thinking about Buffy letting the girl make love to her...but he couldn't.

"Faith," Angel whispered, to the darkness.

And the darkness whispered back...

"What about her?" it said. "I got an idea. How about we forget her. How about we concentrate on us."

Angel sat up, and looked around the room.

Out of the darkness, a shape was coalescing...

He smelled jasmine.

He saw golden blonde hair.

"Buffy," he said.

She was wearing a skirt that showed off her long legs, and the boots he'd bought her. For some reason, there was a scabbard hanging from her belt; she was carrying a small sword.

She stood in front of his bed now, smiling down at him out of the darkness. She was warm and bright in that cold, dark granite room, like the sun had refused to set, and remained in the sky, blazing through the night and burning away the darkness and sending the moon and the stars into hiding. She was beautiful; she was radiant.

"Hi baby," Buffy said, and smiled.

Cassie was getting confused.

Darla had been taking her blood for two months now, every night just before bed, and then they would sleep together. They spent almost all of their time together: Darla liked Cassie's company, and she especially liked her scent too, and Angelus was spending all of his time with Drusilla now anyway, sitting outside of her closet and listening to her increasingly inane babble. Darla had no idea what he found so fascinating about it, but he could sit there all day long, just listening to her. And he wanted Darla to have as little contact with Drusilla as possible, after the incident with Drusilla's father; Darla only saw Drusilla now at dinner, and on Olivia's evening walk afterwards.

But Darla didn't care because she liked being with Cassie, and she liked that Angelus wasn't there: Cassie was hers. But being with each other all the time and sleeping together in the same bed was becoming confusing for Cassie: she always slept in Darla's arms, and Darla didn't mind that, because she thought of herself as Cassie's mother now, but lately Cassie had been kissing her. They always had a kiss goodnight: Cassie had started that, and Darla had allowed it; it was a gesture of affection, nothing more. But though it had started out as a kiss on the cheek, Cassie had been making it a kiss on the lips lately, and last night, Cassie had entered Darla's mouth with her tongue. Cassie's hands had started wandering too; they brushed against Darla's thighs sometimes now.

Darla hadn't put a stop to it yet, because she didn't want to hurt Cassie's feelings, but at the same time it was important that Cassie have the correct idea of her: Darla wanted to be her mother, not her lover. She thought that's what Cassie really wanted, too, but Cassie had never been with anyone sexually before, and sleeping in the same bed with Darla every night, especially after giving her blood to her, was confusing the girl. Darla knew that having their blood taken could be a profoundly erotic experience for humans; she used that aspect of it to enslave them. She became their love object, their goddess, and in return they gave her everything they had: their blood, their money and possessions, if Darla required them, and ultimately, when Darla decided they'd reached the end of their usefulness, their lives. Darla's thralls always gave their lives willingly, when Darla told them it was time: when they had become too old to arouse her sexually, or when she'd simply grown bored with them. And Darla always made sure she was gentle, when she killed them; they deserved that much, for their devotion.

Darla intended to enslave Cassie too, to become a love object for her, but not a sexual one. Cassie's confusion was a problem and it needed to be dealt with soon. Darla could smell it on Cassie every night now; she could smell that Cassie was wet for her. Darla knew Cassie would just go further and further in her advances, and she also knew that rejecting Cassie's advances could hurt the progress they'd made.

Darla knew what she had to do.

Cassie was ripe; she needed to be plucked.

"You want me to deflower her, eh?" Angelus said, as he sat outside Drusilla's closet the next morning, and gave Darla the bare minimum of his attention. "You sure you want to hear your precious new daughter scream? You know I'm rough with the ladies, especially the virgins."

In the closet, Drusilla was whispering. Most of Angelus' attention was focused on her, but he couldn't understand what she was saying at the moment; it was a stream of nonsense words, which she would punctuate by occasionally banging her head against the door. Drusilla had been in the closet for sixty-eight days now, and she was almost completely broken; so she whispered to Miss Edith, her porcelain doll, and she cried sometimes, or screamed, and she banged her head against the door. Luckily it was a good sturdy door and she hadn't been able to damage it, but she banged her head against it so often that Angelus had to intervene sometimes because he was worried she might hurt herself. Though he was careful not to let Drusilla use that to her advantage: if he opened the door every time she started banging her head against it, the progress he'd made with her might be threatened. So sometimes he didn't intervene; sometimes he let her bang her head against the door all night long. One morning a couple of weeks before, he'd found Drusilla unconscious and bleeding from a head wound when he opened the closet door to take her out for her bath. Luckily it wasn't serious, and she was soon healed. But he'd had to threaten her after that; he'd had to threaten to hurt Cassie, if Drusilla ever hurt herself like that again. Drusilla was very nearly insane now but she still responded to Cassie, and when Angelus used Cassie's name it did the trick. "Yes, Daddy, I'll be good," Drusilla had whispered, and obeyed him. Drusilla didn't bang her head against the door quite as often now, and she was always careful not to hurt herself.

"I don't want you to be rough with her, in fact I forbid it," Darla was saying. Angelus was barely listening. He stared straight ahead at the closet door. He fought the temptation to open it, just so he could glimpse Drusilla's beautiful eyes again...so he could drink in their light. The temptation was difficult; it was a daily battle for him now. "But she's becoming confused, Angelus, and it's making things hard; she needs to be with a man. But you'd have to be gentle with her, and I'd have to be there too, because she'll be frightened."

Angelus let Drusilla out of the closet three times a day to bathe, use the bathroom, take meals, walk Olivia at night with Cassie, and to be fucked. Angelus had sex with Drusilla every day now after her bath, and though she hadn't enjoyed it at first, she had eventually come around. He was gentle with her, and their lovemaking sessions were spectacular now; he hadn't realized he could so enjoy being gentle. She came for him every time now, and she did other things too; she'd agreed after awhile to take him in her mouth, and just the past week she finally allowed him to take her from behind. There was really only one new territory left to conquer with her and he thought she'd let him do that to her soon.

Angelus liked being with Drusilla better than being with Darla, but he was careful to betray no sign of that when he was with Darla. Though he barely made time for Darla at all now, and he was sure she knew something was different. When he did make time to love her, he was harsh with her, even harsher than usual, to make up for his tenderness with Drusilla, but Darla liked being treated harshly.

Drusilla was whispering to Miss Edith now; something about a girl with blonde hair. Angelus didn't think she was referring to Darla...

"Will you do this for me, Angelus?" Darla said. Angelus frowned. Darla's voice sounded harsh and grating after Drusilla's sweet honey whispers. He supposed he would have to actually consider what Darla was saying.

He thought about it. He knew Cassie was Drusilla's one tether to her sanity, and the world outside her thoughts; the world outside the closet. He had been looking for a way to use that to his advantage, and enter the endgame he had planned for Drusilla. She wasn't quite ready yet; he had been planning on giving her another month in the closet before allowing her to escape. But that was dangerous; the darkness and the isolation had an unpredictable effect on Drusilla. It could snatch her away from him if he gave it another month; he could lose her, before he was ready.

It was a delicate balance he needed to strike with her. She needed to be nearly broken, nearly insane, but not quite; she needed to have enough of herself left to escape the closet when he wanted her to, so his endgame could be brought about...so he could deliver the final blow, and shatter her.

Angelus thought about it. He thought he could use Darla's idea to his advantage...

"And you'll be there too, eh, darlin'?" he said, and finally turned, and looked up at Darla. He felt a twinge in his stomach, when he looked at her; he couldn't put a name to the feeling but he knew it was the same feeling that had stolen into him the day he had made Mr. Morgan disown Drusilla, and Morgan had whipped Drusilla with his belt, and she had broken down in tears.

Angelus didn't like the feeling. It made him uncomfortable.

"Yes," Darla said. "I need to be there."

When he looked up into Darla's eyes, and thought about the endgame he had planned, a sudden urge came to him; to hold Darla in his arms, to kiss her, to tell her...

"You're my lady, Darla," Angelus said, and stood up, and took her in his arms. "You'll always be my lady. Never anyone else for me, love."

He looked into her eyes, and she looked back into his...he saw something strange in her eyes for a moment. Then she smiled.

"I was...beginning to doubt it, my angel," she whispered, as if she was afraid of the words, afraid of saying them too loud, and giving them power. She looked down at the floor.

He gently lifted her head, so he could see her eyes again. He caressed her hair. It was done in a chignon bun today; he knew Cassie liked doing Darla's hair that way.

"Don't ever doubt it," Angelus said, and kissed her.

He felt her respond; felt her body become soft for him, melt into his. She wasn't warm, like Drusilla was. But he knew he'd miss her, if she was gone...if he ever lost her.

He didn't want to ever lose her.

"Will you do this for me?" she said. "Will you help my girl?"

"Sure, love," he said, and caressed her cheek. "Anything for my lady."

She smiled again. Darla had the most beautiful smile.

"Besides, you're gonna be there too. That'll make it interesting," he said.

"You remember I already indulged that particular juvenile fantasy of yours with that Scottish girl?" Darla said. "I'll be in the bed, Angelus. But I'll be there to whisper assurances to my daughter, and hold her hand; nothing more."

"Damn. There you go again darlin', rainin' on my parade," he said. "That girl's made you an old mother hen." He chuckled, and sat back down in the chair, and looked at the closet again; but he gave Darla a sly smile.

She giggled, and leaned down close to him. "Don't think I won't give you cause to regret that remark later, darling," she whispered in his ear. "I'm your mother too, Angelus. Perhaps I'll find myself a switch and teach you some manners."

"Come now, love," he said, and chuckled again, and sat her down in his lap. "You know you'd hate it if I ever learned my manners."

"Yes, I can see it now; you'd be a terrible bore," she said, and kissed him.

Angelus laughed, and suddenly pushed her down over his lap, and lifted her dress.

"Angelus! Don't you dare!" Darla said, laughing.

"You know I don't respond well to dares," he said, and ripped aside her petticoats and her corset; she lay astride his lap with her dress lifted over her head, and only her drawers covering her nether regions.

"Don't you dare!" came her voice again from under her dress, as her whole body shook with laughter.

Angelus tore her drawers in half, and Darla's shapely ass was revealed to him. Darla swept her dress away from her head, and looked back at him, her face red. But she was still laughing. Angelus smiled, and raised his hand; it hovered above her ass, waiting.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Darla said.

"And why wouldn't you?" Angelus said.

Darla tried to jump out of his lap. He held her down with one hand. She struggled against him, to no avail.

Angelus laughed again, and brought his hand closer to her ass. He raised his eyebrow expectantly.

"Shall I offer you a bribe, my love, to escape this confinement?" Darla said, and moved her hand over Angelus' crotch, and squeezed his cock. It was hard. But then it almost always was.

"You've got my attention, darlin'," Angelus said.

"If you like me in your lap, I promise you'll absolutely love me on my knees," she whispered.

"Intriguing," he said, and let her up.

She stood up, and slowly removed her clothes, until she was completely naked before him.

As she was about to kneel down in front of him, he beat her to it, and knelt in front of her. He kissed her between her legs, and looked up at her, and grinned.

"This wasn't our deal," she said, and smiled, and ran her fingers through his long hair. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Everyone knows I'm an untrustworthy scoundrel," Angelus whispered, as he began licking her pussy. Darla leaned back against the closet, and moaned; Angelus thought it was a beautiful sound. Even more beautiful than Drusilla's whispers.

Then that feeling came to him again...the one he didn't have words for. The one that made him uncomfortable. He tried to ignore it, and concentrated on the beautiful flower in front of him.

"You ripped my dress," Darla said. "I liked that dress."

"I'll buy you another one," Angelus said. "Besides, you look better without it."

"Tonight then?" Darla said. "Tonight you'll bed her for me?"

"Aye love, if you desire," he murmured. Her pussy tasted delectable. It always had.

"And you'll be gentle with her, Angelus?" Darla said. "You'll make it special for her?"

Darla was running her fingers through his hair. He always loved when she did that. He took her foot in his hand, and kissed it, kissing his way all the way up her leg, and back to her pussy.

"Bring your switch," he said. "In case I get out of hand."

She giggled again. He took her other foot in his hand, and kissed it, working his way up to her pussy again from that direction.

"Don't think I won't," she said. "But I don't suppose I'll be needing it. You've always been a good boy for me."

He began servicing her pussy in earnest now, darting his tongue inside and gently sucking on her clit. Darla threw her head back, and closed her eyes.

"You've always been my darling boy," she whispered.

"It's been awhile," Angel said.

Buffy looked down at him from out of the darkness, and smiled.

She looked like Buffy; she was beautiful, and warm, and alive. Angel could hear her heart beating.

He wanted to take her in his arms.

He didn't.

"I've been...busy," Buffy said. "There's been a lot of...I mean, there's this whole thing with these guys trying to end the world and..."

She smelled like Buffy. Jasmine...but there was another scent too; Angel realized that Buffy was covered with it.

Peaches...with a hint of muskiness underneath.

Buffy looked down at the floor, and tears came into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, baby."

"Buffy," Angel said, and got up, and went to her...to take her in his arms...

She turned her back on him, and walked away.

"You can smell her on me, right?" Buffy said. "Faith. You can smell her."

"Yeah," Angel said.

"We've been fucking," Buffy said. She was standing far away from him now, on the other side of the room, in front of a big antique mirror Angel had bought, specifically for her; so she could see herself in the morning. She looked at herself, considered her reflection. She moved her hair out of her eyes, with a shaking hand.

Then she turned and stared back at him, from the shadows.

"Faith fucks me," Buffy said.

Angel nodded. He had always known this moment would come...he had always known he'd lose her someday...he tried to center himself.

"I didn't...I didn't want her to," Buffy whispered.

"What?" Angel said. "What do you mean?"

"The first time...she...she..." Buffy whispered.

"She what?" Angel said, and approached her again. She shrank away, when he tried to touch her.

She walked away from him again, and sat on the floor in the corner.

He watched her. She was sitting with her legs drawn up to her chin, huddled in on herself.

"Buffy...what's wrong?" Angel said, and moved closer to her again. But there was something he had never seen before, in her eyes...it reminded him of someone...for a moment he couldn't remember who.

Then it came to him.

The look in her eyes reminded him of Drusilla's sister...Veronica. She'd looked at him that way...when he was Angelus...when he...

"Buffy. What are you saying?" Angel said. He tried to keep an even tone to his voice, tried to be calm, centered. He felt a pressure in his chest, slowly building. He felt hot.

Buffy shook her head, and held herself tight, and looked down at the floor.

"Buffy," Angel said, gently. "Talk to me. If there's something wrong, let me help. You know I love you...you know I just want to help."

She looked up at him, with tears in her eyes, and then she looked down at the floor again.

"Buffy," he whispered. "Are you saying...Faith...hurt you?"

"She made me, the first time," Buffy said, softly, still looking down at the floor. "I kept saying no but she's stronger than me. I kept saying no but she held me down, held my arms so...so I couldn't move and she...she...did stuff to me."

Angel watched her. He remembered what Drusilla had said, about Faith... he couldn't reconcile it with this. It didn't make sense...

"She said I'd like it eventually," Buffy said. "She didn't hit me or anything. She just...held me down...and...and...made me..."

Buffy held her head in her hands, and started to cry.

"She said I'd like it," Buffy whispered.

"You'll like it, Cassie, I promise," Angelus said

He was lying naked in bed with Darla and Cassie, in Cassie's room. Darla and Cassie were both naked as well, but Cassie was under the covers, holding them all the way up to her neck. The girl was shy. But Angelus could smell that she wanted him. He knew how to deal with girls like this; he knew just what to say, just how to smile, just how to touch them. It had been more than a century since he'd bothered to put the effort in, but the old moves were still there.

He was bored, and he was thinking about Drusilla. But he gave Cassie just enough of his attention to achieve Darla's aims...and his own.

He'd made progress, in the last few minutes; Cassie was at least able to look at him now. He knew Darla's presence helped; Cassie held on tight to Darla's hand under the covers, and Darla caressed her hair, and kissed her cheek. Cassie had a bandage on her neck; Darla had been taking her blood, and had just finished draining her before he came in. The girl was relaxed...or as relaxed as she ever got.

She only looked at his eyes, though; she hadn't looked at his dick yet. He wasn't hard, because the girl didn't excite him; she was a weak, dull little thing and he had no idea what Darla saw in her.

"Cassie," Darla said. "Do you trust me? Do you trust mother?"

Cassie nodded.

"You need to be with a man, darling," Darla said. "You're of the proper age and it's time for you to learn about men, about their needs, and how to satisfy them. But also how they can satisfy you. I know you're curious, and your father and I are going to teach you. All right?"

Cassie nodded again. Darla knew she was still nervous; Cassie was a talker and when she wasn't talking it meant she was nervous.

Darla looked over at Angelus. He wasn't hard yet; Darla knew Cassie bored him. Darla looked at his dick, and frowned. He grinned, and shrugged his shoulders.

Darla supposed she'd have to get things started...

"It's going to feel good, darling," Darla said, and took Cassie in her arms, and kissed her: a good one. She gently parted Cassie's lips with her tongue, and penetrated her; she caressed Cassie's tongue, and ran her hands across Cassie's breasts.

"Now we're talkin'," Angelus said, and chuckled. "You girls want me to leave the room?"

"Shall I go fetch my switch?" Darla whispered, looking askance at him as she finished kissing Cassie. Angelus chuckled again.

Cassie's face was the color of a tomato after the kiss, but her pussy was wet now; Darla could smell it. Cassie's nipples were hard, too, beneath Darla's fingers. Darla caressed Cassie's breasts, and looked down into her eyes...

"It will feel just like that, my love," Darla said. "Did you like that?"

"I love you, Darla," Cassie whispered. "I love you, mother."

Darla smiled. "I love you too," she whispered, and kissed Cassie's cheek. She noticed Angelus rolling his eyes. She frowned at him. He was helping her, as he promised, but he was bored; Darla knew he was dangerous when he was bored. He needed direction, guidance: he always had. He could be an impetuous boy.

Darla took the covers down from Cassie, revealing her to Angelus. He still looked bored. He'd seen thousands of naked girls; Darla knew it took something special for a girl to catch his eye. In a way, it was a good thing, Darla thought. She didn't want Angelus to take a special interest in Cassie. Cassie was hers.

Darla took Cassie's hand in hers, and brought it to Angelus' cock. She made Cassie stroke it.

"This is his dick," Darla said. "Look at it."

Cassie was getting nervous again. Darla kissed her cheek.

"I'll be right here the whole time, all right?" Darla said. "Mother will be right here. Now I want you to look at Angelus, not me."

Cassie nodded, and looked at Angelus...looked at his cock. Darla held Cassie's hand in hers, and ran both of their hands up and down Angelus' cock, going all the way down to his balls and back up to the head, gently stroking it.

"It's getting bigger," Cassie said.

"Yes, that's what happens with men," Darla said. "You need to make their dicks hard before they can be inside you." She took her hand away, and let Cassie stroke Angelus' cock herself.

"Like this?" Cassie said. "This is how you do it?"

"There are lots of ways to get a man ready, this is just one," Darla said. "Just like there are lots of ways to get a girl ready, too. A man needs to be hard, and a girl needs to be wet between her legs. You're wet now, because of my kiss."

Cassie blushed again, but she went on stroking Angelus' cock. Darla noticed he still wasn't fully erect. She frowned at him again. He grinned at her.

"You became wet from my kiss," Darla said. "You can kiss a man, and that can get them excited too. Kiss your father now."

Cassie hesitated. She was turned toward Angelus now, looking into his eyes.

Darla gave Angelus a look; he knew what it meant. He supposed it was time to get to work...

He caressed Cassie's cheek, and gently kissed her.

"She said I'd like it," Buffy said, still looking down at the floor, holding her head in her hands, and crying. "She was strong and she held me down...I kept saying no but she just laughed. I kept saying I was your girl, that I wanted to be loyal to you, but she just laughed and said that I should be ashamed of myself, for being with you...that it was disgusting, a Slayer being with a vampire...that I might as well go dig up a dead body from a graveyard and go fuck that instead. She...touched me, between my legs. She..."

Buffy looked up at him. Angel had tears in his eyes now too.

Angel watched her. Buffy's face was a shadow... Angel couldn't see her.

"She made me come," Buffy said. "And I cried but...then she laughed at me some more. She laughed and told me she knew what I was...she said I was...a dyke. That she could smell it on me. She started staying over my house after that. She'd sleep over, and she could be like, funny, and charming? My mom likes her and she keeps asking her to come back. Faith...she won't let me see you. That's why I stayed away. She's always watching me, I had to sneak out to see you tonight. She doesn't like go to school or have a job or anything? So she watches me all the time. When she sleeps over my house she comes to my room at night. The first time she came to my room I said no, that I would fight her? But...but she...she said I shouldn't fight her because my mom was in the house and she wouldn't want my mom to get hurt. And I got scared after that, scared for my mom so I...let her again. She licked me between the legs that time. After I came and she was done with me she said the next time she was gonna make me do stuff to her too. And she did, the next night. And every night after that. She fucks me every night now and...somewhere along the way, I don't know how baby but...I just...got used to it. I...like it now. I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Angel tried to go to her again. She shrank further back into the corner.

"Don't..." Buffy said, and held her hands in front of her face. "Don't touch me. Please? Don't."

"Why not?" Angel said.

"'Cuz...'cuz, I mean...I'm a whore, right?" Buffy said. "All I am is a whore now. I'm Faith's whore now."

"What the hell are you saying? Don't say that," Angel said.

"But it's true," Buffy said, smiling a little now.

For a second, Angel saw something frightening in her face, when she smiled...he saw a darkness there...a darkness that was deeper than the shadows surrounding her.

"I like it now," Buffy said, looking him in the eyes, and smiling...but her eyes were still full of tears, and she was shaking a little. "I like when Faith fucks me now. I like when she licks my pussy. I even like licking Faith's pussy. She bought like, this sex toy? It's like a dildo thing that she can wear? She fucks me with it every night now and I love it. Every night she makes me tell her that she fucks me the best, that I like her dick better than yours. So, yeah. I'm thinking... I'm thinking..."

She started to cry again, her whole body shaking now, and looked down at the floor.

"I'm a whore," Buffy said. "I'm Faith's whore. She fucks me every night and she had to force me at first but now I like it so I'm a whore for liking it. She made me her whore."

"You're not a whore!" Angel said, and tried to go to her.

She looked up at him, with panic in her eyes.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed, and got up and ran away from him, to the other side of the room. "Don't!"

"Buffy, why won't...why won't you...why are you afraid of me?" Angel said.

"I'm not, baby," Buffy said, and sat on the bed. "But I'm...dirty. I'm a whore. I don't want you touching a dirty thing like me."

"Stop saying that!" Angel shouted.

"But it's true," Buffy said. "It's like...you know what it's like? It's like what you did to Drusilla."

That rocked him; he felt like he'd been punched in the face.

"What?" he whispered.

She looked up at him again.

"You never told me, but Willow knows what you did to Dru," Buffy said. "You made sure Willow knew all about it, when you were Angelus. Will won't talk much about what you did to her but I can read between the lines. So yeah, I know about Dru now...how you broke her and turned her. How you raped her. How you forced her at first, but then she started liking it. Just like Faith and me. She forced me the first few times...I guess she raped me. But I like it now. Faith broke me, like you broke Dru. And...I love her now. Faith takes care of me now."

"Buffy, you're talking crazy! You're not making any sense!" Angel said. "How could you love someone who does...does that to you?"

"How could Dru love you?" Buffy said. "But she does. It's obvious Dru loves you. And hey, while you're working on that brainteaser, here's another one for you. How can you love her? How can you love someone, if you were able to do that to them? But you do. I know you love Drusilla. Don't try to deny it. Don't try to lie to me."

He looked away from her again.

Something was wrong.

He had assumed he was dealing with ghosts when Leah and Darla arrived. But then Dru had come next, and as far as he knew she was still alive...

He was sure now that whatever she was, she wasn't Dru. Even if Dru hadn't disappeared like Leah and Darla before her, he would have known she wasn't Dru, for the simple reason that Dru wouldn't have left at all. Dru always wanted to stay with him; she only left when he sent her away.

They all smelled right, they all acted like who they were supposed to be, they all knew things that only those people could know...but they weren't them.

Leah, Darla, Dru, Buffy...other than the fact that he had known them all, and that he'd slept with them all, he knew they had one other thing in common...

Buffy didn't want him to touch her...he thought he knew why.

But her words still hurt him...it still hurt him to see he cry...and he wasn't sure how much of what she was saying was the truth...

So he watched her, and listened, and tried to center himself...

"Do you love Dru?" he heard Buffy saying. "Just answer me honestly, Angel. Do you love her?"

"Yeah," Angel said.

"Faith told me she loves me tonight," Buffy said. "And I believe her. Yeah, she did to me what you did to Dru, but...now that she's taken me? She takes care of me. At night, after she fucks me? She just holds me in her arms and kisses me, and tells me she'll always protect me. I love her, Angel. Just like Dru loves you, I love Faith. But...I know it's wrong. I know I shouldn't...I shouldn't. I shouldn't love someone who hurts me."

He turned, and looked at her. She was crying again.

"But then...you hurt me too, didn't you?" Buffy said.

"I love you, Daddy," Cassie murmured.

Angelus was tempted to roll his eyes at her. But Darla was watching, so he had to be on his best behavior...

Cassie was a boring lay; he could've gotten as much pleasure fucking the bed. After awhile he'd realized he wasn't ever going to come if he actually concentrated on what he was doing so he let his mind wander. He thought back to that first day, when Drusilla had cried, as he made her watch Olivia give him a blowjob, and hold her leash.

That got him off. The ordeal with Cassie had lasted an hour by that point and Angelus thought that was an hour of his life he'd never get back and that he was going to have to fuck Darla long and hard and painfully to make up for it, and then he would fuck Drusilla too. But he got the job done; Cassie was over the moon, babbling that she loved him, and he smiled and tried not to think of throttling the little rabbit right there and having done with it.

"I love you too, precious," Angelus said, and smiled.

Cassie curled up against him, and kissed his chest.

Angelus rolled his eyes. Darla frowned at him.

After Cassie had mercifully drifted off to sleep, Angelus and Darla left her, and went downstairs to the dining room. Angelus wanted to be back with Drusilla, sitting in the chair in front of her closet and listening to her sweet honey whispers. But he knew the final phase of his plan was about to be put into motion and he and Darla needed to talk.

They sat in the dining room, in the dark, and Darla made tea.

"You do recall you're a vampire, don't you?" Angelus said.

"I happened to like tea very much, before the Master turned me," Darla said. "Making tea for Cassie every day has reawakened that in me, I guess. Actually, you should try it. Tea is one of the few things that has any real taste to it anymore. Believe me, with all the cooking I've done here the past two months I do believe I've sampled every food known to man. Tea, rum, and lemon scones; everything else can go hang."

"No cranberry muffins?" Angelus said, and chuckled at her. He wouldn't be trying any tea, or lemon scones for that matter. He liked his meals warm and whimpering.

"Unfortunately not, and it's a terrible tragedy because I know my cranberry muffins are positively delightful," Darla said, and smiled in the dark, and brought the pot of tea back to the table on a tray. The tea service was silver and the cup was porcelain. She poured herself a cup, added milk and honey, and sipped it thoughtfully. "I'm a wonderful cook. The fact that I can't actually taste what I cook is actually rather depressing."

"You taste our darling little Cassie every night though," Angelus said, watching her in the dark. They liked the dark; they were predators. They liked experiencing the world through their noses rather than their eyes. The room was nearly pitch black. Only a single candle in the window provided any light. But the flowers outside smelled wonderful and the tea had an interesting spicy smell too; although he didn't plan on drinking any Angelus liked how it smelled. The little room was dark, and quiet, and it smelled good, and he had Darla with him: Angelus was content for the moment. "Bet she's positively delightful," he added.

"She is," Darla said, and watched him over her cup, and licked her lips, and showed him her teeth. "And I know you, Angelus; now that you've fucked her you want to taste her. I'll warn you just once. I forbid it. If you take even a drop I'll whip your hide. You think you gave Mr. Morgan a whipping? I grew up in Virginia colony; people knew how to handle a whip there. Touch my Cassie and I'll show you what a whipping is."

He laughed out loud. It echoed through the quiet house.

For a moment a strange feeling came over Angelus; he remembered when he was small, and he would be restless in his bed at night, and sometimes he would sneak downstairs and see his father and mother, sitting in the kitchen, talking softly and drinking tea by the light of a candle. He realized that he and Darla were the father and the mother now; they had their own family now. "You're getting me all hot under the collar love," he said, and dismissed the thought; something about it made him uncomfortable. "With all your sassy talk of whippin' me I'm gettin' to be a damned rooster over here. I wonder why we've never tried it? Could liven things up a bit on occasion."

"Oh, I'm game if you are, my love," Darla said, and giggled. "But not tonight."

She stood up, and walked around to his side of the table, and knelt in front of him. She unbuttoned his pants, and took out his cock. He immediately swelled to his full size at her touch. He always did.

"Tonight it's all soft, gentle kisses for my angel," she murmured, and began kissing his cock.

"Well, if you won't give me a whippin' I guess I'll just have to make do with this," he said. She giggled again.

"Thank you, Angelus," she said, as she cupped his balls in her hand, and licked his cock, licking her way up the shaft, and then kissing the head, and licking her way back down the other side, back down to his balls. "I know Cassie didn't exactly thrill you and I know you were bored. Thank you for helping me with her."

"You're gonna have to teach that girl some things if she's gonna be any fun at all in the rack," Angelus said. "Girl just laid there like a dead horse."

"Oh, you better believe I'm going to teach her some things," Darla murmured, and took him in her mouth. She looked up at him; he was leaning his head back, and closing his eyes; savoring the moment. Darla knew she gave an amazing blowjob. She'd had centuries of practice...

But he wasn't pulling her hair. It wasn't as much fun when he didn't pull her hair...

She brought his hand to her hair. He smiled, and yanked it hard.

She winced in pain, and felt her pussy getting wet...

After Angelus came, and he'd made sure Darla had swallowed every last drop, he let her up. She fixed her hair, and sat back down, and poured herself some more tea.

"Better?" she said.

"For now," he said. "You know you're always makin' me a damned rooster." Blowjobs were one thing Angelus knew Darla beat Drusilla in, hands down. He hoped Darla would agree to teach Drusilla a few things too.

"We've had our fun, now we need to make plans tonight," Darla said. "We've been here two months and we can't stay forever. Even with that doctor we turned, people will get suspicious eventually and we can't kill or turn everyone who comes to the door. The Morgans were too well-known; whenever I go out shopping there are always questions."

"The cholera story's still holding up?" Angelus said.

"Yes, our doctor sells it well. But at some point someone else is going to show up at the door, it's just a matter of time. I don't know how much longer you need with Dru but I'm ready to turn Cassie now. If you need much more time with Dru we should think about moving them both somewhere else, perhaps out of the country."

"Hold off on turning Cassie. I need her for Dru."

"How much longer? I want her, Angelus; I'm patient but my patience has limits. I've taken her away from Olivia and she's ready to be with me now. Speaking of which, I don't need Olivia anymore. You can kill her whenever you please. I assume you'll want to put on a show for Dru."

"No. I've been giving that some thought. Arthur went out like fireworks but I think it's better if Livvie goes out like a candle. She can just flicker and fade, and I'll tell Dru she's gone but I won't let her see it."

"Why?"

"To show her that Livvie doesn't matter; that Livvie's an afterthought, nothing more. You can kill Livvie, and do it how you please; I know you don't like her, after what Cassie told you. Just don't mention anything to Dru, I'll handle that."

"And what of your plan for Dru? How much more time do you need?"

"I'm going to let her escape tomorrow."

"Do you think there's enough left of her? I'll admit she's somewhat lucid when she accompanies Cassie on Olivia's walks, but otherwise the girl seems like a loon to me. You could open that closet door and she might never walk out."

"Oh, my Dru will walk out," Angelus said. "Don't you worry about that."

"And if she knows about the gun?" Darla said. "You could lose her."

"Risk makes the game, darlin'," Angelus said, and smiled like a wolf.

After Darla tortured Olivia for awhile, she had her do some tricks. It was their last day together, and Darla wanted to make it special.

It was a couple of hours before dawn. They had sat together on the veranda--or rather, Darla had sat; Olivia was down on her knees at Darla's feet--and Darla had given all of Olivia's pressure points a good seeing-to. Olivia was gagged, of course; her screams would have disturbed Cassie. Darla didn't allow Olivia to make human sounds within earshot of her daughters. Cassie had forgotten Olivia now; on their walks every night Cassie happily took her leash and had her fetch a stick. But Cassie was an excitable girl, and Darla didn't want to take any unnecessary risks; Darla was Angelus' mother and she knew the bond between a mother and her child was too strong to ever be completely severed. Cassie had forgotten Olivia but Olivia was still there, somewhere in her heart, buried deep; a cherished thing in a dusty box in a black cellar. But Olivia was there nevertheless, and only killing her, and then turning Cassie, would destroy the bond completely.

The sky was a deep, dark, crystal clear blue and the air was warm and the scent of roses was strong in the garden; the rose bushes were in full bloom now and they overpowered the scents of most of the other flowers. Only the jasmine flowers withstood the onslaught; they had a strong, sickly-sweet scent. Too sweet, Darla always thought. She never liked them and had been meaning to have them removed. But they'd killed all the servants, and gardening was so dreadfully tedious.

Darla looked up at the sky, and smelled the air. It was warm, but not humid for once; autumn was coming and there was an invigorating breeze that gave the night air some bite. The moon was full; it hung bloated and orange in the sky like a rotten fruit. Olivia was shaking and whimpering and crying at her feet. She smelled bad; Darla never let her bathe. She threw a bucket of cold water on her every day, and that was Olivia's bath. Olivia hadn't bathed or shaved her legs since the day Darla and Angelus had arrived and it had a wonderful effect on Cassie; it made Olivia seem like an animal to her. Olivia's legs were covered with hair now, and Cassie had actually started calling it fur.

Darla had done what she'd set out to do; she'd made Olivia a dog, and taken Cassie away from her. Brutally, moment by moment, day by day, she'd destroyed Olivia in Cassie's mind, reduced Olivia to nothing, to less than nothing. Darla held Cassie in her eyes every night, after she took her blood; she held her, and spoke softly to her, words that Cassie wouldn't consciously remember but which would subtly guide her thoughts. Cassie was Darla's thrall now, and that, together with watching her mother walked on a leash, had finally brought about the desired effect. Olivia no longer served a purpose now. Darla had drained her, just as surely as she drained her daughter's precious blood; she had taken everything Olivia could give. She knew it was time for Olivia to go now.

But Darla hated Olivia, so she took this time to hurt her, before she killed her. Now that she'd finished with the pressure points she'd decided to have Olivia do some tricks.

"Look at me, Olivia," Darla said. Darla always called Olivia by her name when they were alone together, because it reminded Olivia that she had once been a person, and it hurt her more. For what Olivia had allowed her husband to do to Cassie, Darla liked hurting her.

But they had never done tricks when they were alone before. Darla had been saving this for Olivia's last day, and now it had arrived.

She took Olivia's gag off.

"Bark for me, Olivia," Darla said.

Olivia didn't look away from her; she knew that if she looked away from Darla when Darla was talking to her, she'd be punished. Olivia looked into Darla's eyes, and barked like a dog.

"Good dog," Darla said. "Now give me your paw."

Olivia held out her hand, and Darla took it.

"Roll over," Darla said.

Olivia rolled over on the veranda, coming to a stop on her back, with her arms and legs up in the air.

Darla watched her, and smiled. Olivia was haggard, but she had put on some weight; Darla kept her well-fed so she could shit on their walks, and so she could crawl on all fours without becoming unduly tired. Olivia's arms and legs had become noticeably thicker; all that crawling had gained her some muscle. But she looked like some wild animal; her hair was long and thick and tangled up with leaves and dirt, her fingernails and toenails hadn't been cut in months and she smelled bad. The palms of her hands and the soles of her feet were black with ingrained dirt from the constant crawling; they actually looked somewhat like paws now.

"Good dog," Darla said.

Darla tapped her leg, and Olivia crawled back to her. Darla patted her head.

"I'll take care of Cassie, Olivia; I won't let anyone hurt her," Darla said. "She'll be safe with me."

Olivia began to weep. Darla smiled, and tied her gag back on.

"You didn't actually believe Angelus when he said you'd get your family back, did you?" Darla said, still gently patting Olivia's head. "You won't be getting them back. You should know that Veronica is dead; Angelus raped her and tore her throat out."

Olivia screamed into her gag, and began to shake. Darla held her in place by the hair.

"Arthur's gone too," Darla said. "I tortured him every day, and then Angelus whipped him to death. We threw Arthur and Veronica's bodies in the stable, with the servants."

Olivia was crying and drooling at the same time now; Darla thought it was a grotesque display but at the same time she couldn't get enough of it. Olivia was a prey animal she had cut open and gutted, and now all the viscera was leaking out...it was disgusting, but Darla also found it strangely beautiful.

Darla yanked Olivia's hair, and looked her in the eyes.

"You should have fought for them," Darla said. "You should have fought for Cassie and Dru, instead of letting your prick of a husband belittle them all their lives. He tried to make them dead inside, turn them to stone like him, and you let him. And you should have fought me when I put that leash on you. You shouldn't have let me parade you around like a dog in front of your daughters. You would have lost, but you still should have fought. Better to lose that way than this. I would have killed you quickly then."

Olivia wet herself; her piss began spraying out on the floor. Darla smiled again. Olivia didn't realize it but she was already dead; Darla had cut her open, gutted her like a fish and it was all coming out now...

"You tell yourself you let us do this to you because you were afraid for your daughters, and perhaps that was true in the beginning," Darla said. "But you saw what we were doing on our walks, you saw that I want Cassie for myself and Angelus wants Dru. You saw how we were with them, how gentle we were. That we love them and couldn't ever hurt them. But you still allowed us to do this to you, because you were afraid for yourself. You didn't care how much it hurt your daughters to see you this way, you only cared about how much I would have hurt you if you failed to do what I told you. You should have scratched my eyes out for making your daughters see you like this, you should have fought me and died a quick death. And though I still would have hated you I would have respected you then at least; respected you as a mother. But now all you are is a dog. We didn't kill your family. We saved it. We saved Cassie and Drusilla from you."

Darla stood up, tied Olivia's leash to her collar, and gave it a yank. Darla walked into the yard, and Olivia crawled behind her. Darla didn't bother looking back at her; she knew Olivia wouldn't try to attack her, wouldn't even try to stand up, if she even could after all this time on all fours. Olivia was broken; destroyed.

She walked Olivia to the far end of the garden, under a tall cherry tree. There was a deep, freshly-dug hole there, and a shovel.

Darla took the leash off, and used it to tie Olivia's hands and feet together behind her back.

"Play dead," Darla said.

Olivia didn't look at her, or struggle. She wasn't crying anymore. She looked down at the dirt.

Darla grabbed Olivia by the hair, and tossed her into the hole, and looked down at her.

"Cassie told me Arthur used to beat her and Dru," Darla said. "He beat them so badly sometimes that a doctor needed to see to them. He beat them both, for nothing, because they were sensitive girls. Because they weren't like Veronica. He didn't want them, he didn't love them for who they were; he tried to change them to his liking and when that didn't work he hurt them. And Cassie told me that you never once tried to stop him. You sat there and watched while he hurt them. You cried, but you watched. So I made Cassie and Dru watch while I walked you around on a leash like a dog. And they cried, too. But they watched."

Darla took the shovel, and started filling in the hole.

Olivia screamed into her gag...but they weren't human sounds anymore.

When Darla returned to the house fifteen minutes later, Angelus was waiting for her in the parlor, sitting on the couch in the dark beneath the portrait of Cassie and Dru that Cassie had painted.

His dick was hard; it stood up like a tent pole in his pants.

"I watched the whole thing," Angelus said.

"The craven cunt got what she deserved," Darla said.

"You better get that dress off in a hurry darlin'," Angelus said. "Because I'm about to rip it off you."

Darla smiled, and stalked over to him, and stood in front of him.

"I think you're going to have to rip it off me," she murmured.

He grinned, and growled, and stood up. He kissed her, tearing into her mouth, biting her lips and drawing blood. She moaned, and screamed.

He tore her dress in two, and her petticoats and corset after that. He ripped her drawers down, and flung her onto the couch on her stomach.

"Give it to me," she snarled. "And you'd better give it to me hard. You'd better hurt me the way I like to be hurt."

He smiled, and showed her his teeth. He was still growling, but he managed to speak.

"No worries on that account, love," he said, and ripped his own clothes off. Darla stuck her ass up in the air for him.

He laid himself on top of her, and rammed into her from behind, and grabbed her hair and pulled it hard.

She screamed, and bit down on one of the pillows, as he filled every inch of her.

"The other hole too," Darla whispered. "When you're done. I want you up my other hole too."

"No worries on that account either," he whispered, as he held her down, and yanked her hair, and fucked her.

"Hurt me, baby," Darla whispered, as she moaned. "Hurt me, angel..."

"You always hurt me, Angel," Buffy said. "And I loved you for it. And now Faith hurts me, and I love her too. Love's a bitch, huh?"

"Yeah," Angel said. "It is."

She was lying in his bed now, staring up at the ceiling.

Angel knew there was nothing to see up there. He'd done his share of staring at it.

"I didn't want this, baby," Buffy said. "I didn't. I didn't want to do this to you. I'm sorry."

Angel nodded. He needed to figure out what she wanted...what they all wanted.

"So now what?" Angel said.

"Will you protect me? Will you protect me from Faith?" Buffy said, and looked back at him. She looked afraid, and alone. Angel wanted to take her in his arms, and tell her he would make it all right...

He didn't.

"I'll always protect you," he said.

Buffy nodded, and looked up at the ceiling.

"So you like Willow, huh?" Buffy said, after a moment. "You got like, a little crush on her? I mean, it's obvious that you have a thing for her, after what you did to her. And hey, I totally get it? Will's a cutie. I've always had a crush on her too. She's my strawberry girl." Buffy grinned. "The ironic thing is? Faith was right. I'm a lezzie. I mean, I liked being with you but I am queer as a three-dollar bill, baby. And I always had a thing for Will and I just never really admitted it to myself. Too bad Will's straight."

Angel turned away from her. He was standing near the mirror now. It stared back at him, empty, save for Buffy.

"Buffy...what is this?" Angel said. "What are you doing? Why are you talking this way?"

"Um, am I going too fast for you?" Buffy said. "What's so hard to understand? Okay, cliff notes, genius. Faith made me her pussy-licking whore, and now I like it. She had to force me at first, but I like being her whore now. And you turned Drusilla into what she is...you locked her in that closet and raped her every day and she started to like it eventually too. You made Dru your whore like Faith made me her whore. So...questions? Comments?"

Her words cleaved into him. They were like knives, like swords. He felt like he was shaking. He stayed perfectly still.

He knew life was a series of moments. But this one...he wasn't sure he would survive this one.

Buffy got up, and walked over to him. She stood behind him, looking in the mirror over his shoulder. He felt her body heat, and her breath; her breath was warm against his cheek. He heard her heartbeat. He took in her jasmine scent.

"Life is about strength and weakness, right baby?" she said. "Isn't that what you said the Klingons...wait, wait, I know this...the Kree'shon are all about? You sort of admire them, right? The purity, the simplicity of their lives? Strength and weakness? Black and white? Taking what you want?"

He didn't look at her. He looked into the mirror. He looked into the mirror, and only Buffy looked back...

All that he was, he realized, was the effect he'd had on other people. He didn't feel as though he existed, on his own...he had no identity other than what he created in the people around him. He was a reflection. And Buffy, Drusilla, Darla, Spike, Jenny Calendar, all of them...they were his mirrors. He saw chaos, when he looked at them; he saw destruction. He saw a pestilence.

He felt small. He felt insubstantial...like he might fade away. He remembered the hell dimension. He still didn't know how or why he'd returned from it. He wondered now if it had only released him temporarily. He wondered if it might pull him back someday...

Or perhaps it already had.

"You can take what you want, baby," Buffy whispered. "I know you have fantasies...stuff you'd never tell me, stuff you're ashamed of. It's okay baby, it's not your fault, it's the demon in you. You won't have to force me. Faith had to force me at first, but you won't. I love her, because she made me love her? But I love you more. You can take me. And you can take her too...we can capture Faith together. You can take me in front of her; she'd hate that. And then you can take her, for what she did to me...wouldn't you like that, baby? To have revenge? To get some satisfaction? To reach out your hand, and have the whole world in the palm of it? You can. All you have to do is be strong...let yourself be strong."

Angel looked at the mirror.

"Kill Faith, baby," Buffy said. "She turned me into her whore and I know you want to kill her for it. Kill her, baby. Kill her for what she did to me. And then we can be together again. Yeah okay, the perfect happiness thing is a drag? But there's other stuff we can do. Stuff I've always wanted to do so much with you. Faith licks me between my legs but I always wanted you to do that for me. And I want you in my mouth too, baby. I'll suck your dick all night and I'll love it. And, um, perfect happiness? Maybe I can get you up to like seventy percent with that, but no way a hundred percent, so I figure we're safe."

Buffy giggled, and walked away from him again.

Angel looked in the mirror...at nothing.

"Baby?" Buffy said, a moment later. "Look at me."

He turned. She was lying naked on the bed.

"I love you, Angel," Buffy said. "Come to bed? Let me suck your dick?"

Angel sighed. He was tired.

"Okay," he said. "I've played along with this whole thing. With Leah, and Darla, and Dru, and now you. I've played along, to try to get some answers, and so far all I'm getting are a bunch of speeches. Never was too keen on bad guys making speeches. Even when I was the bad guy. I thought up to now that you were four separate...whatever the hell you are. But you're not, are you? You, Dru, Darla, Leah...you're all the same."

Buffy giggled, and looked up at the ceiling again, into the darkness.

"The great hero," she said. "Took you long enough to figure it out."

"What you said about Faith would never have happened," Angel said. "Buffy would never let anyone make her a victim."

"That's where you're wrong, dummy," Buffy said, and looked at him again. Her eyes had nothing in them now. The light that had been there a moment before was gone. "She let you make her a victim, didn't she?"

He looked at her, and didn't respond.

"Touched a nerve, huh?" Buffy said. "You saw, didn't you? When you guys were doing the tai chi stuff here a couple of months ago. You saw what Buffy's hiding. You saw what you did. Don't tell me you didn't victimize her."

He walked away. He couldn't face her, couldn't let her see his eyes...

"You know, if I really wanted to fool you, I could've," Buffy said. "But I didn't come here to fake you out. I didn't come here to trick you into doing stuff."

"Then why did you come here?" Angel said, to the wall. "You can feel free to tell me what the hell you are anytime now too."

"I came here to make you see," Buffy said. And as for what I am?"

He turned, and looked at her again. She showed him her teeth.

He felt something hit him, like a physical blow, when she did that. He'd never felt anything like it before. But he knew what it was.

It was hatred. But not the kind of hatred humans feel, not the emotion of hatred. This was hatred as a physical force, as a living entity...he could feel it, in the room with him now...coming from her, stabbing at him, relentless...

"You can't even imagine what I am, baby," Buffy said.

In her closet, Drusilla whispered. Angelus listened.

Angelus had been sitting by the closet all day, listening to Drusilla's whispers. Most of the time they made no sense; they could be snippets of songs she'd heard, or bits of verse she'd written, or merely strings of nonsense words. On the rare occasions her whispers did make any sense, they were usually pleas to the voices she heard in her mind to stop tormenting her. He loved listening to her anyway. Even though she never really said anything, he loved to hear her.

"We put the dog to sleep last night, Dru," Angelus said.

The whispering stopped.

He'd been waiting all day for just the right moment to tell her about her mother. It was the appetizer...the main course would come later.

Though he let Drusilla out of the closet three times a day he made sure she still spent more than twenty hours every day in there; it was important to Angelus that Drusilla spend nearly all of her time in a dark, small place, alone. She was spiraling down into insanity now; Angelus knew Drusilla had crossed a line at some point and even though she wasn't completely broken yet, even though he still saw a tiny flicker of resistance in her eyes sometimes, he knew she wouldn't ever be coming back. He knew that sometimes she said and did things for his benefit, playing her little games and making secret plans, but she couldn't fool him, and he knew she had lost her mind. She held on to little parts of herself but she would never again be whole.

Veronica had started the process and her father had continued it, and seeing her mother on a leash every day had steadily chipped away at Drusilla too. Angelus was curious to see how she would respond to the news of her mother's death; he thought it would push her a bit further, but it wouldn't be the final blow. Drusilla had abandoned her mother. She pretended she'd done it because he wanted her to but he knew the real reason she'd left her mother to her fate was that she was marshalling all her strength for Cassie. He knew Drusilla saw her mother as an acceptable sacrifice, if she could escape with Cassie. Abandoning her mother had hurt Drusilla in ways she wasn't even aware of yet; Angelus knew the bond between a mother and her children was the strongest one in the world. He knew it would come back to haunt Drusilla, but not yet; right now Drusilla was thinking about Cassie...when her thoughts were hers. When she could push the voices away for awhile.

Losing her family had driven Drusilla toward insanity but Angelus knew it was the darkness that had really pushed her over the edge. The little pitch-black closet had finally broken her mind: it was her coffin.

When Angelus fucked Drusilla now, he thought her growing insanity made her even more beautiful; he could see his masterpiece taking shape. He had steadily chipped away at Drusilla, as a sculptor shapes a stone, and now he could see his blackbird coming to life, a little more each day.

Sometimes Angelus heard a scratching sound coming from the closet; he'd asked Drusilla what she was doing but she never answered him. Whenever he asked she whispered the answer to Miss Edith, and told him he should ask her. After two weeks of listening to the scratching sound and asking Drusilla about it whenever he let her out of the closet and getting a bunch of whispered nonsense talk between Drusilla and Miss Edith instead of a straight answer, Angelus finally opened the door one day while she was actually making the sound, because he was curious to see what she was doing: her wrists and ankles were always tied and he wondered how she had managed to scratch at the walls in there.

When he opened the door that day, Drusilla was biting the walls. The inside of the closet was covered with teeth marks.

"They whisper I'm a wolf," Drusilla had said, as her ice blue eyes stabbed at him out of the darkness. "The voices, they say I need to practice with my fangs. Someday I'm going to tear her throat out, Daddy, and I need to be ready."

"Who's that, precious?" Angelus had said. He was interested; it had been weeks since Drusilla had been this lucid without Cassie in the room. "Who's throat are you going to tear out?"

"It's a secret. But, oh, you're going to think I'm naughty," Drusilla had said, and laughed. "The moon will conquer the sun."

"I thought we didn't have secrets, darlin'?" Angelus had said.

"We don't," Drusilla had said. "But if I tell you he'll know, and you wouldn't want that, Daddy."

Now, Angelus watched the closet, and listened. The whispers had stopped. She could be quiet sometimes; Dru could go hours without whispering sometimes. And he could listen, for hours; when she didn't whisper, or scream, or cry, he listened to her breathe. He listened to her heartbeat. He never got bored.

"It's for the best," Drusilla said, after a moment. "The dog was old."

Dinner that night was subdued. Darla made a wonderful ham, which Cassie complimented her on profusely, and Angelus was charming with Cassie, playing the dashing boyfriend, and holding her hand under the table. Having to pretend Cassie was of the slightest interest to him was tedious but it was necessary to his plan tonight; she had to think he was courting her. She'd asked him to come to her room tonight after dinner and he'd accepted; he thought it would be the last time he would have to fuck her. At least, he hoped it would. This time Darla wouldn't be there, and she had made him swear he wouldn't hurt Cassie, or take any of her blood. He grudgingly accepted Darla's terms, and knew he'd have to abide by them; she could always tell when he was lying. "A mother knows," she always said.

Darla watched him like a hawk with Cassie at dinner, and so did Drusilla. He knew Drusilla could sense what was going on between him and Cassie, which was exactly what he wanted. When he caught Drusilla's eyes he saw peculiar things there; the news of her mother's death, and Cassie's casual dismissal of it as they conversed at the table, was a blow to Drusilla, though she was keeping herself together. Angelus thought she was separating herself from it, locking it away somewhere inside her, to be dealt with later. He knew people had deep wells inside them, that went down nearly forever, and sometimes, when something was too hard to look at, they would throw it down into the well, and it would disappear into the darkness. But the wells people had inside them weren't bottomless, and everything that was thrown down into them was always there, waiting...

That's where Arthur and Veronica and Olivia were, now. They were at the bottom of a dark well, in Drusilla's mind. Angelus knew that someday Drusilla would have to go to that well again...

There were other things in Drusilla's eyes too. Fear was one; Drusilla could tell he was focusing on Cassie now and he knew she was afraid of what he would do. Jealousy was another; though he had forced her, raped her, killed her family, he was still tender with her. When he fucked her now, he held her in his arms for a little while afterwards, and told her he loved her, and that he would always take care of her. She enjoyed their lovemaking, though she hated herself for enjoying it, and part of her didn't want to share him.

Drusilla was a woman, and Angelus knew that meant she would occasionally think ridiculous things. She was probably wondering if he found Cassie more attractive than her. She was probably thinking that perhaps she should do something different with her hair...

Angelus hated women. They were so unreasonable, so foolish, so flighty, and yet so mundane. Men had dreams, ambitions; they cared about changing the world, achieving things. Women cared about trivial matters. When men went out to war women went to get their hair done. When men gave thought to matters of weight and import, when they debated ideas that would come to shape future philosophies, women gave thought to whether the beds were made and the pantry was adequately stocked. Men made art; women made dinner. Men conquered; women were enslaved. Men played chess; women played checkers.

Darla was the most interesting woman he'd ever met, but she was still a woman and she wasn't immune to the weakness that afflicted her kind. She made dinner and spent a good deal of time making sure everything was just so, right down to the arrangement of the silverware. She was concerned with minutiae. She played checkers.

But Angelus played chess, and that was why Darla didn't see his endgame coming...wouldn't see it until it was too late...

After dinner, Drusilla was flirting with him on the way back up to the closet. She was transparent; he knew she wanted to entice him away from Cassie. She was also rather comical; he thought Dru was beautiful and he could take in her scent and drink the light in her eyes and listen to her honey whispers all day, but the girl knew nothing about sex or romance beyond what he'd shown her, and she had no idea how to flirt. Or give a proper blowjob for that matter, but she was at least making strides there.

"I miss you Daddy," she said, as they entered her room. "After we love, I miss you all day. I want you at night too."

"Is that so, precious?" Angelus said, hardly listening. He took the rope from the bed. She held out her hands. He didn't tie them; he waited.

"I'll be good, Daddy," she said. "You don't have to tie me anymore. I'll be a good girl in my closet. Haven't I always been a good girl for you?"

She knelt down in front of him, and unbuttoned his pants, and took him in her mouth. She had stopped using her teeth, finally; now she just needed to learn about technique. But she was making progress.

He was tempted to let her blow him but if he came now he'd last forever with Cassie and he wanted to finish with Cassie as quickly as possible. He gently lifted Drusilla back up to her feet, and kissed her.

"You're right, Dru," he whispered. "You're a good girl, and I trust you. No more ropes for you, all right? And I won't prop the chair against the closet door anymore when you're sleeping. I know you'd never leave me."

Drusilla smiled, and nodded, and leaned her head on his shoulder. She cupped his balls in her hand, and caressed them.

Her hand was warm. He moaned.

He was tempted to stay...

He knew a woman would have stayed. A woman would have lacked the discipline to follow though with the plan. She would have listened to her heart, and gotten tangled up in it...believed its lies. Angelus knew hearts always lied.

He kissed Drusilla, and looked into her eyes; basked in their light.

"Go to bed now, precious," Angelus said.

"Yes, Daddy," Drusilla said.

She opened the closet door, and walked in, and laid herself down on the floor.

"Good night, Daddy," Drusilla said, and smiled again, and shut the door.

Fucking Cassie was like riding a dead horse again but the thought of what was about to happen with Dru livened it up, and when Angelus sensed Drusilla standing in the hallway, listening to them, he was able to come. Cassie seemed to enjoy herself at least; he counted two orgasms and there would have been a third and probably a fourth if he had lingered longer while caressing her pussy.

He didn't lick her pussy; that was only for Darla and Dru. He used his fingers on Cassie there, but never his tongue. The girl probably wasn't even aware that people did that anyway.

The most annoying thing was having to stay in bed with Cassie afterwards, and hold her in his arms, and pretend she mattered. But he could sense Drusilla out in the hallway; her rose scent came to him, and he could hear her breathing. She whispered softly to herself, too; so softly Cassie couldn't hear, but he could. He didn't think Drusilla was even aware she was whispering; he knew she was trying to be quiet.

He was glad it was all coming to a head tonight; Dru was almost gone. Another month in the closet and she wouldn't have been able to escape...

Cassie drifted off to sleep after a little while longer, and he got up and put his clothes on, and made a great deal of noise doing it, and plodded out of the room, making sure Drusilla could hear his footsteps approaching. After a few seconds he heard her scampering off back to her closet.

It was done. He walked back downstairs, to meet Darla in the study.

Everything depended on Drusilla now.

"After this, you're taking me to Barcelona," Darla said. "And perhaps Venice after that. I think Cassie would enjoy Venice."

"Anything you like, darlin'," Angelus said.

They sat in the study, talking quietly. The room was dark; the fireplace was the only light. Angelus sat in one of the overstuffed leather armchairs by the fireplace. Darla sat behind Arthur's desk, with her feet up, and smoked one of his cigars, and drank tea.

Angelus had Arthur's Bible in his hand. He was reading it by the firelight.

"The Devil can quote scripture to suit his purpose," Darla said, and grinned, and blew smoke rings.

"Maybe the Devil can, but I can't," Angelus said. "This stuff makes me want to bang my head against the wall. Maybe I should've given Dru a Bible instead of Miss Edith. Probably would've broken her a month sooner from the sheer tedium."

"So why are you reading it then?"

"Curious, I guess. It's a fairy tale, but so many of these rabbits believe it. They take comfort in lies, and this book is one of the worst of them."

"I don't think it's all lies," Darla said. "I've read that book--nothing else to read in Virginia when I was growing up--and there are some truths in there, I'd wager."

"The most effective lies always contain some truth," Angelus said.

"Not everything I told you was a lie, you know," Buffy said.

She was still lying naked on Angel's bed, looking up into the darkness. He was leaning on the mahogany nightstand, watching her. She looked like Buffy, but she was more...she seemed boundless, now. As if his eyes couldn't fully encompass her. She laid there on his bed, bobbing her foot up and down over her knee, and she smiled, and looked, and smelled, and talked, like Buffy. But she wasn't Buffy...

"You haven't really told me anything," Angel said. "But hey, keep making the speeches. They're really engrossing. I could stay here all night and listen to you talk about how great you are."

"You know, I really hate sarcasm," Buffy said. "The world was better before sarcasm. Maybe I can go back in time and find the person who invented it and convince him to kill himself. And you have no idea how tedious it is by the way, having to think like Buffy for extended periods of time. She's the dumbest smart girl I've ever met, and then she compounds it with that annoying pretense of cleverness she always uses to avoid actually thinking about what's going on around her? And, well...I sort of want to throttle her to death."

"Kinda hard, when you can't touch anything," Angel said. "Unless that's something you can change when you want to?"

"Pumping me for information huh?" Buffy said. "Well, since you can't just pump me I guess you'll have to settle for this. It's too bad, Angel. Before those gypsies got hold of you, you were really something to see. Especially in the bedroom. I was watching, you know. All those years, all those girls, I was looking over your shoulder. But to humor your clumsy attempts to interrogate me, yeah, can't touch anything. Total drag. Believe me, if I could touch stuff the world would be a very different place."

"I guess you'd try to kill everyone and enslave them, since that's what bad guys with zero creativity or imagination do. You want to talk tedious? Trying to sift through your bullshit, now that's tedious."

She giggled, and looked at him. She opened her legs. Beckoning him.

"I really do like you, you know that?" Buffy said. "Even the new and drastically not improved eunuch version. Angelus was a great time, but I like your single-mindedness. His mind could wander...things could distract him. He always thought he was the perfect version of you, y'know? The strongest. All that badness, distilled down to its pure black essence. But he was wrong...and he's wrong now, pacing around down there in that cage you keep him in. You're stronger when it's the two of you together...you're stronger when Angel is in charge, not Angelus."

"Not telling me anything I don't know here," Angel said. "You can close your legs if you want, since I'm not gonna be having sex with you."

"Come on baby, not even if I cry and scream first?" Buffy said, and giggled. "Isn't that what gets you hard?"

Suddenly, she changed; she looked afraid. She began to cry. Bruises began to appear on her face...her nose bled. Her lip bled. One of her eyes swelled shut.

Her hands began to shake.

A wound appeared on her neck...on the left side. Blood began dripping from it.

"What are you...?" Angel said. "What the hell are you doing?"

"No, please! Buffy screamed, and shrank away from him, shaking her head and holding her hands in front of her face, as if she was trying to ward him off. "No! NO! Please...please don't...please don't hit me again. I'll...I'll do it, okay? I'll do what you want, I'll do what you want...please don't...please don't kill me? Please..."

"Stop it," Angel said.

Buffy moved off of the bed, and got on her knees, and crawled over to him. She was shaking all over now. He saw her tears, falling to the floor. He saw the blood from her neck, dripping down her side, leaving a trail behind her.

"Stop it!" Angel shouted.

"I'll do it," Buffy whispered, naked and bruised and bleeding, shaking from head to toe, looking up at him now in terror. "You don't have to...have to hurt me. Please don't. Please don't. Please don't hurt me anymore. Do you want me to...do you want me to suck your dick first? I'll do that, and then...then you can fuck me if..."

"STOP IT!" Angel screamed, and tried to grab her by the shoulders, and haul her up to her feet. But his hands went right through her.

Buffy laughed, and stood up. Her blood and her bruises disappeared. There had been a light in her eyes for a moment, as she knelt in front of him; it was gone now.

"Angel," she said, and walked away from him, still laughing. "Angel, Angel, Angel...you are such a fucking sap."

She laid herself down on his bed again, and spread her legs.

"But of all the monkeys on this forsaken little ball of dirt, you're one of my two favorites," she said. "I'd fuck you if I could, baby. That's not a lie."

"Bet everything else is," Angel said.

"No, baby, it isn't. Yeah, okay, Faith never hurt Buffy, Faith didn't make Buffy her whore. The thing about that story though? It wasn't exactly a lie. Think of it as a parable. It was true, in that it illustrated a truth about you. That story wasn't about Faith and Buffy, it was about you and Drusilla. You raped Drusilla, victimized her, took her family away, broke her. And then you fell in love with her, and she fell in love with you. Yeah, sure, you forced it, you forced her to love you, but the point is she does. Are those feelings any less valid because of how you arrived at them?"

"Still waiting to get a single straight answer here."

"Okay, baby, I'll tell you what. Because you're one of my favorite monkeys in the whole world, I'm gonna answer all your questions. But quick though, because I gotta take off soon."

"Yeah? Where you headed? Big date with Casper the Friendly Ghost?"

"Actually I'm going to Whoville. I'm gonna steal Christmas."

Buffy shook her head, and sighed.

"It is so tedious, having to talk like this," she said. "I think I'll go back to being Darla after this. I liked Darla."

"I like the way Buffy talks," Angel said.

"You understand maybe about forty-percent of what she says."

"I like it anyway. What are you?"

"Right back to pumping me, huh baby? Okay. I'm the First. The first thing that was created. Some people call me the First Evil, but that name doesn't really do me justice."

"The First Evil. I've heard of you. Thought you were a myth."

"Oh no, I'm real, baby. But 'evil' is a word you monkeys invented. It can't come close to defining me; it doesn't even scratch the surface. Real evil, pure evil? It isn't a pale reflection of good, or a shadow of it. It isn't a perversion of good. Those ideas imply that evil is dependent upon good somehow, jealous of it, covetous of it. No, evil exists, separately, with its own rationale, its own agenda; evil is a force, antithetical to good, and every bit as powerful as good."

"Yeah? I bet if the First Good was here she could at least touch stuff."

"There is no first good. The first thing that was created was me. I was infinite, and perfect; I was pure black. Not just the absence of light, but black as a thing in and of itself. It's beautiful, baby. I'm beautiful. If you could see me as I really am you'd worship me, Angel."

"Seen lots of girls. Not much for worshipping."

"You worshipped Darla. You worshipped Dru. Not so much Buffy though. But then she didn't really have a place, did she? Darla was your mother, who chose to make you her son. Dru was the woman you chose to be your wife. Buffy...she was...what? A hell of a lay? Actually, you should see her with Faith. You think she showed you a good time?"

"And we're back to talking about bullshit again."

"Fine, fine. But when Buffy gets here in a little while and you smell Faith's pussy on her lips, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Buffy's coming here?"

"Yup. She'll be here tonight. And she's bringing some friends. Why do I have the feeling they won't be happy to see you?"

"Why is she coming?"

"The problem with you asking me all these questions, besides the fact that I'm pressed for time and you keep asking about stuff that doesn't matter? Is that you aren't really gonna believe my answers anyway because I'm like, evil? But whatever, I'll tell you the truth and you can do what you want with it. Buffy's coming to ask for your help. She spent her afternoon kissing Faith's feet and eating her pussy by the way. Seriously, not lying. She got down on her knees and kissed Faith's feet for awhile and told her she wanted to worship her back in Faith's motel room, and then she ate Faith's pussy for forty-two straight minutes. Seriously, I clocked her. The girl might be absolutely clueless when it comes to sucking dick but damn, can she eat a peach."

Angel walked away from her.

"Aw baby, I'm sorry. It hurts, huh?" Buffy said. "Okay, let's forget all about Buffy licking some girl's pussy and talk about me again. So let's see, where was I? Right. I was alone. The first thing that was created. And I liked it that way. I was complete, in myself. I was happy; the universe was mine. But then the universe started getting crowded...it started filling up with small, stupid, blind creatures. I hated them. I hated all these new things, that suddenly existed outside of me. Over the years I've watched them...watched you. I've watched you live your lives in ignorance: ignorance of what you are, of how the universe really works. I felt only contempt for most of you...but there are some I've always found interesting. You interest me, Angel. Only one other person in the world right now interests me more."

"Why?" Angel said.

"You're strong. Even now, when you're confused and weakened, when part of you is kept in a cage, you're still strong, still disciplined. You'd be amazing if you ever reconciled your two halves, you know. You provide the purpose, Angelus provides the drive. You're cold, methodical, relentless; Angelus is hot, passionate, poetic. Together you're perfect. Even separated from yourself as you are now--and, this just in? You and Angelus aren't so separate as you think--you're still the most amazing man I've ever seen."

"I could reconcile my two halves?"

"Sure."

"Without losing my soul?"

"Yup."

"How?"

"Perfect happiness is a trap. So don't go looking for it. Look for perfect satisfaction instead. I know you want to kick the shit out of Faith, I know the image of Buffy kissing her feet and licking her pussy is burning a hole in your heart right now. So do it. Find Faith, hurt her, fuck her, kill her. Make Buffy watch. Then do the same thing to Buffy. If you really think you want Buffy by your side forever, fine, turn her. Then grab Dru--and maybe Spike if you don't think he'll piss you off too much--and you can slice this world up any way you want. You'll still have your soul, you'll still be you. But you'll no longer feel trapped. You won't be the pawn of the Powers, or those gypsies, or some misguided morality, or even your dick anymore. You'll have Angelus' boundless fire at your disposal, giving you power, giving you energy to burn. But you'll still be Angel. Angelus will be the engine but you'll be in the driver's seat, you'll be the guiding force. You'd love it, baby. The whole world would be spreading its legs for you, just like I am now."

"No," Angel said.

"Hey, you asked," Buffy said. "You want to be dumb and squander your time, feel free. It's not infinite, you know. I can't see the future with perfect clarity but I can see it in flashes, I can see part of the road ahead, and I'm telling you, Angel, if Buffy and Faith don't die, one of them will kill you someday...and it will be a lot sooner than you think. You're powerful enough to overcome any foe, but Angelus alone isn't; not without you he isn't."

"Why are you here?" Angel said. "What do you want, here, now?"

"So my dire prediction for your future doesn't even get a reaction? No furrowed brow? But you look so cute when your brow gets all furrowy."

"Why are you here?"

Buffy sighed.

"I'm gonna miss you when you're gone, Angel," she said. "Okay, why am I here? Let's see...how about, to make this a better world?"

"How about, cut the shit."

"Not kidding baby. All you monkeys? You're weaker than animals, because at least animals know why they're here. A wolf doesn't bitch and moan and feel all guilty and wonder about the meaning of life when it snaps a rabbit's neck. The wolf hunts, and eats, and fucks, and most of all? Gets satisfaction. But you monkeys don't. Before they stopped hurling shit at each other and started getting smart, monkeys knew what life was about. For them, it was about power. Hierarchies. The top monkeys get the best food and the best females, and the monkeys under them get scraps. When a top monkey becomes weak, another monkey kills him, and takes his food and his females. The powerful spread their genes and have their way, so the race becomes stronger with each generation. The inferior live shit lives and die an early death, because they're mistakes and they shouldn't be polluting the gene pool. Every single creature in the world knows these things except human beings. Monkeys knew these things, but when they got smart and became you, they forgot. They conceived this ridiculous, misguided idea that the weak deserve something too. The weak should be slaves and they shouldn't be allowed to pass their inferior genes on. The strong should rule. But they don't. In this world you monkeys created, the weak flourish and the strong--people like you--feel lost and confused and adrift because you can feel that the world is wrong somehow, but you don't know how to fix it. I know how to fix it."

"And how's that?"

"Raze it to the ground. Destroy the weak, useless, counterproductive structures you monkeys created and let chaos reign for awhile. It's happened before, you know. When chaos is the only law, you monkeys have a wonderful way of discarding all the bullshit ideas you've allowed to weigh you down. The strong always, always, always come out on top and reorganize things the way they should be. The strong fuck the prettiest girls and eat the best food and have the shiniest toys and the weak go back to living on scraps and being hunted and killed as they should be. Unfortunately, the more of you monkeys there are the easier it is for you to get confused, so in order to really fix the world there's gonna have to be a lot less of you...say, cap the world's human population at ten million. Also, this time I'll be in charge. The top monkeys can fuck and eat all they want, but they'll be reporting to me."

"Thought you hated us all. Why bother making the world a better place?"

"You know, it's funny? I do hate you all...well, most of you. But the thing is? You surprise me, and nothing else in existence can do that. When I was alone, I was everything, and there were no surprises; there was nothing outside of me. Now there are surprises. And yeah, mostly they're annoying surprises? Sort of like your car not starting in the morning or a sudden roach infestation, those kinds of surprises? But sometimes they're interesting surprises. Like you. You were an interesting surprise."

Buffy got up off the bed, and picked up her clothes from the floor.

"So hey, I gotta go?" she said. "But before I do, I'm gonna make you an offer."

"An offer?" he said.

"Yeah," Buffy said, as she sat on the side of the bed, and pulled on her underwear, and slipped into her bra. "It's a really generous offer by the way, and I don't need to make it. I'm making it because I like you. If you refuse I could give two shits, I don't need this. But you sure need it, so listen up, handsome."

"How is it that you can't touch anything and yet you're putting on clothes?"

"They're illusions."

"So why bother with them?"

"The devil's in the details, baby," she said, and looked up at him in her bra and panties, and smiled.

A shudder went through him, when she smiled.

"Okay, so here's the dealie-o," she said.

She sighed.

"I'm the oldest, most powerful living thing in the universe and I just said 'dealie-o'," Buffy said. She shook her head, and put on her skirt and her sweater. "I hate Buffy. Okay, anyway. There's a war on and I'm gonna win. And not in like, a thousand years? Or a century, or even a generation. Now. This world is going to fall. But like I said, you monkeys are occasionally of interest to me. So you can have Illinois."

"I can have Illinois?"

"Plenty of room, good land for farming, lots of livestock. All the drinking water you'll ever need from Lake Michigan, moderate climate. A tornado once in awhile, but they keep life interesting. Plus you get Chicago, one of your greatest cities. If you agree I'll allow humans to live in Illinois, untouched, forever. As long as the population stays capped at ten-million and no one ever leaves the state humanity will never be troubled by me again. The rest of the world will be for me and mine, but you can have Illinois and a starting population of one-hundred thousand people. You can pick the people if you want. I wouldn't do it randomly. Pick the strongest and the smartest."

She pulled her boots on, and buckled her belt and her scabbard around her waist.

"You're serious," Angel said. "You actually mean this."

"Take the deal, baby," Buffy said. "One-hundred thousand's better than zero. And zero's what it's gonna be soon if you say no."

"Assuming you're not full of shit, and it's a big assumption, why are you making this offer to me? Why not...I don't know, the President. The United Nations. Buffy."

"There you go, baby, thinking like a monkey again," Buffy said, and stood up, and faced him. "The President is a fat, stupid old man who needs guns to be strong. The United Nations, same deal. When I raze this world to the ground stupid people won't be able to have power. Only strong, cunning people will be able to have power. People like you. Buffy? Yeah, she's strong, she's smart, but she's a child. You've experienced the world, turned over all the rocks and seen the horrible things underneath them. She hasn't yet. She's naive. You're not. If there's one person on this Earth who should have the authority to make this deal, to determine the fate of your species, it's you."

"If I take the deal, what happens next?"

"I give you six months to choose one-hundred thousand people. Once you've chosen, give me the list of names and I'll see to it they're protected. Then my army marches, the world burns, and you lead what's left of your kind to the promised land."

"If I don't take the deal?"

"Humanity's deader than disco."

He considered it.

"Angel. Seriously? Take the deal," Buffy said. "If you don't you're gonna die, one way or another. And I don't want that, baby. I'm not talking as Buffy now, okay? I'd miss you if you were gone. The universe would be a colder place for me without you. This is a one-time offer. If you refuse I won't make the offer again. Take the deal."

He watched her. He looked into her eyes.

She was warm. She smelled like Buffy. She was beautiful. He wanted to take her in his arms...

He thought about Buffy. He thought about what she'd say, if she was there.

"No," he said.

"Red robin," Cassie heard someone whispering. "Red robin, wake up."

Cassie turned over, and ran her hand over the bedsheets. Darla hadn't come to bed yet. She frowned. She wondered where Darla was.

She felt weak; Darla had taken her blood not long before and it always took her some time to recover. It was still dark outside, whatever time it was. She yawned, and squinted up into the darkness.

Drusilla was staring down at her. She had a gun in her hand. Cassie gasped, and shrank away from her.

"Dru...what...what are you doing?" Cassie whispered.

"We have to go," Drusilla said. "Before they all come back. Before they start whispering again."

"What?" Cassie said. "Who's whispering? What are you talking about?"

Drusilla wiped a tear from her eye, and touched Cassie's hand. Drusilla's hand was shaking.

"I'm sorry Cassie," Drusilla said. "I get...I get confused sometimes. Big sister can be a silly bird. Don't pay any attention. But we have to go. Take your coat, robin; it's chilly."

Cassie looked closely at her. Drusilla's eyes were puffy and red. Her hands were still shaking. She was wearing a nightgown and slippers and a coat. One of her porcelain dolls was sticking out of her coat pocket.

"Where are we going?" Cassie said. "Where's mother?"

"Dead and buried in the yard," Drusilla said. "Now come on!"

She yanked Cassie out of the bed.

"Whispers now," Drusilla said, as she walked Cassie to the closet, and grabbed one of Cassie's coats, and put it on her. "We have to be quiet as two mice. Put on your shoes."

"What happened to mother?" Cassie whispered. "What do you mean, buried in the yard?!"

"Put on your shoes!" Drusilla hissed, and pointed the gun at her.

Cassie shrank away from her again, and started to cry. Drusilla held her head in her hands, and looked down at the floor, and started shaking all over.

"I won't, I won't, I won't listen," Drusilla whispered. "I won't listen to any of you. You're all trying to trick me. Shut up, Miss Edith! You're not helping either. A hairbrush doesn't matter right now, I have to get her out of here."

Drusilla looked at her sister again.

"Please, Cassie, for me," Drusilla said. "For big sister. Put...put on you shoes? Please?"

Cassie hesitated. She searched her sister's eyes.

She sat down on the bed, and put on her shoes.

"Tell me what happened to mother," she said, as she put them on. "It sounds like you're talking about the dog."

"Darla killed her," Drusilla said, looking toward the door now, and listening for footsteps.

"Yes, she killed the dog," Cassie said. "The dog had to be put to sleep. Darla told me that. But Darla is all right?"

Drusilla knelt in front of Cassie, and put her hands on her shoulders. They were still shaking.

"Cassie, Darla is not our mother," Drusilla said. "And Angelus is not our father. They killed our mother and father, and they killed Veronica too, and we have to leave before they kill us. Now hurry up!"

Drusilla jammed Cassie's feet into her shoes, yanked her up, and started walking her out of the bedroom. Cassie planted her feet, and refused to move.

"Darla is our mother," Cassie said. "What are these horrible stories? Why are you saying such horrible things about our parents?!"

Drusilla suddenly whirled around, staring up at a point on the wall, just above the window. She seemed afraid of what she saw there, but when Cassie followed her eyes, she saw nothing but flowered wallpaper. Drusilla spun around the other way, and looked toward the closet, with the same ghastly expression on her face. Then she suddenly fell to her knees, and held her head in her hands.

"No," Drusilla whispered. "No. I won't. I won't."

"Dru?" Cassie said, and knelt beside her.

"Not...not real," Drusilla whispered. "None of you are...Miss Edith, tell them...tell them to stop."

"Dru," Cassie said, and hugged her.

"Make them stop," Drusilla whimpered, and started to cry. "Please? Make them stop? Why won't they? Why won't they stop...they never stop..."

"Dru," Cassie whispered, and held her close. "You're sick, Dru. You need to be in bed. Let me take you back to bed, and I'll put on some tea, and I'll tell mother, and she'll call the doctor. Let us take care of you."

Drusilla shook her head, and looked down at the floor, and cried.

"Dru, I love you," Cassie said, and started to cry now too. "Let me help you. Let me bring you to bed and see to your needs. Please?"

"How much...how much do you love me?" Drusilla said.

"What?"

Drusilla looked up at her again, and wiped the tears from her eyes. She wiped the tears from Cassie's eyes too.

"How much?" Drusilla said.

"More than anything in the world," Cassie said. "You're my big sister."

"I always take care of you," Drusilla said. "Right?"

Cassie nodded.

"And I want to take care of you too," Cassie said. "Let me bring you to bed. Let me call for the doctor. Please, Dru. You're scaring me."

"I don't sleep in a bed," Drusilla said. "Angelus makes me sleep in the closet in my room."

"What?" Cassie said.

"You only see me at dinner, and on the...on the walks afterwards. Did you ever wonder why?"

"Mother always said...that you and father were...spending time together."

"He was raping me," Drusilla said. "Every day, he raped me."

Cassie's face went chalk white. She started crying again, and trembling.

Drusilla took something out of her pocket, and unfolded it, and held it up in front of her.

It was a small, blurry photograph, of Drusilla and Cassie...and their father, and their mother, and Veronica. They stood on the veranda together, in the sun.

"This was our family," Drusilla said. "Until Darla and Angelus came, and killed them."

"No," Cassie said.

"That first day, Darla tied us up and made us watch as Angelus raped our mother."

"No," Cassie said.

"Then Angelus put me in the closet in my room, and I had to live in that closet every day. He started raping Veronica after that; the last time he raped her, he made me watch. And he killed her in front of me."

Cassie shook her head, and tried to look away. Drusilla grabbed her by the chin, and made her look at the photograph.

"He started raping me too," Drusilla said. "Every day. I let him. I didn't fight back. Because I knew playing along was the only way I could escape. The only way I could find you, and free you."

"Stop," Cassie whispered, and shook her head. "Stop..."

"Angelus whipped our father to death in front of me," Drusilla said. "You would have heard it; it echoed across the grounds that day."

Cassie started wailing; she buried her face in her hands, and Drusilla hugged her.

"Darla killed our mother last night," Drusilla said. "She buried her alive in the yard under the cherry tree. Angelus told me."

Drusilla held Cassie for a moment longer, as Cassie wept. Then she lifted her chin, and looked her in the eyes.

"I love you," Drusilla said. "All I've ever tried to do is protect you."

Cassie nodded.

"Do you love me?" Drusilla said.

Cassie nodded.

"Then come with me now," Drusilla said, and held out her hand. It wasn't shaking anymore.

Cassie took her hand, and they stood up together.

"How can you do that?" Angelus said. "Smoke rings. You don't breathe."

"I'm full of surprises, my love," Darla said.

"Aye," he said.

They were still in the study, waiting. Angelus read the Bible. Darla drank tea and blew smoke rings.

"They sure are doing a lot of crying up there," Angelus said.

"My Cassie's excitable," Darla said.

"You realize Dru's trying to undo all the progress you've made with her."

"I can fix it. I'll look into her eyes, and whisper sweet nothings to her. By tomorrow morning she'll think it was a dream."

Angelus looked up from the Bible.

"I've always admired how you can do that," he said. "Why can't I do that, hypnotize people? The Master can do it, and we're both of his bloodline."

"I'm not sure, my love, but I think only the females of his blood have this particular gift," Darla said. "The males can hold a person's eyes to varying degrees, but they can't implant suggestions, can't guide a person's thoughts."

"It'd be a nice trick. I suppose that's why you have all those thralls out there? That, and to make me jealous when you allow them to bed you, of course."

"Why, Angelus," Darla said, and smiled. "Are you actually jealous of my thralls? That's adorable."

"Adorable," Angelus said. "That's me. I'm the very word."

"Well I suppose we'll know whether my theory is true soon," Darla said. "Once we turn the girls, we'll see if they inherit the gift. And then it's off to Barcelona with the lot of us."

Angelus cocked his head, and looked up at the ceiling. So did Darla.

"Here they come," Angelus said.

"They're coming, Angel," Buffy said. "My army's going to sweep over this world, very soon. You'll need to prepare your troops. Buffy and Faith have no idea what's coming. Even after you tell them, they'll have no frame of reference for it. They haven't seen the things you've seen."

"Want to give me a pep talk too?" Angel said. "You're the strangest bad guy I've ever met, you know that?"

Buffy smiled.

"I'm gonna miss you," she said, and turned away from him.

"Wait," he said.

She turned back to him.

"You said I was one of your two favorites," he said. "And you said only one person interests you more. Who is it?"

"Jealous, baby?" Buffy said.

"Curious," he said.

"How about we split the difference and just call you vain," she said.

"So are you gonna tell me? You said you'd answer all my questions."

Buffy walked back to him, and whispered a name in his ear, and smiled.

"Not who you were expecting?" she said.

"No," he said. "I was expecting someone I never heard of, maybe. Not her."

"And it's all your fault, baby," Buffy said, and laughed...and disappeared.

"Now where would you two be headin' off to?" Angelus said, as Drusilla and Cassie crept down the stairs, quiet as mice, but not nearly quiet enough.

Drusilla froze on the stairs. She held the gun in front of her, and pointed it at Angelus.

Angelus was leaning on the wall, far from the entrance hall, giving Drusilla a clear path to the door. Darla stood beside him.

"Hello, darling," Darla said to Cassie, and smiled. "This must all be terribly confusing for you. But mother promises it will all be over soon, and then we can go back to sleep together."

"You're not...you're not my mother," Cassie whispered.

Darla's smile wavered for a second, but only for a second.

"Of course I am, my love," Darla said.

"Don't try to stop us," Drusilla said, and kept walking with Cassie toward the entrance hall, holding Cassie's arm. "I'll shoot you."

"Adams double-action revolver," Angelus said. "Good, solid gun. Rapid-fire, good stopping power. Fires five shots."

He stuck his hand in his pocket.

He took it out, and dropped a bullet to the floor.

Drusilla stopped moving.

Darla looked at Angelus, and smiled.

Angelus dropped another bullet to the floor...and another...and another.

Drusilla's face went white. He hands began to shake.

"Didn't check to make sure if it was loaded," Angelus said, and shook his head. "The old man always kept it loaded, so you didn't check. If you're gonna outwit me, love, you need to play the game a bit smarter."

You...dropped four," Drusilla said.

Darla turned, and stared at Angelus.

"Left you one," Angelus said.

"I'll...I'll kill you," Drusilla said.

"By all means, do," Darla said, and moved closer to Drusilla. "Shoot me. Shoot me now, Dru."

"If you're gonna outwit me, you need to play smart, Dru," Angelus said, and watched her. He watched Darla, too. If she tried to take the gun from Drusilla he would stop her.

Darla tried to run to Cassie. Angelus grabbed her arm and held her still.

"What are you doing?" Darla hissed. "What is this?"

"Risk makes the game, darlin'," Angelus said. "It's Dru's move now."

He looked at Drusilla. She was shaking, and Cassie stood like a statue beside her. He knew Cassie had retreated again, like she used to in the early days; she was pretending it wasn't happening.

The house was quiet. The room smelled like cigar smoke and tea and flowers. The floor creaked beneath Drusilla's feet, and then was silent again. The old grandfather clock ticked softly; it sounded like footsteps.

Angelus knew his future was approaching. He knew it was all in Drusilla's hands now.

It was an exhilarating feeling, he thought, being powerless...giving all his power to Drusilla. The rest of his life would be determined by her actions here.

"Cassie, it will be all right," Darla said.

"We're going," Drusilla said.

"Now how are you planning on doing that?" Angelus said, and chuckled, and looked toward the entrance hall.

Drusilla looked toward the entrance hall too...

Then she looked down at the floor.

"Dru," Angelus said. "You wouldn't want to break up our happy family, would you? Think about how happy Cassie was with me, last night. Cassie's gonna be happy with me, every day forever."

"Cassie," Darla said. "Cassie, look at me. It's going to be all right. Mother will make everything better, okay? I promise."

Cassie didn't look at her. She looked at a spot on the wall, somewhere in the middle distance.

"Cassie," Drusilla whispered. "Look at me."

Cassie looked at her. A tear rolled down Drusilla's cheek.

"I love you," Drusilla said.

"No," Darla whispered.

Drusilla raised the gun...

"NO! NO!" Darla screamed, and wrenched herself free of Angelus, and ran toward Cassie...

Drusilla shot Cassie through the temple, and Cassie fell to the floor, dead.

Darla froze.

Drusilla dropped the gun to the floor, and fell to her knees beside Cassie... she knelt in Cassie's blood. It pooled on the floor beneath her feet. It was splattered all over her face.

Drusilla held her head in her hands, and cried.

Darla knelt beside her.

Darla touched Cassie's hair. She smoothed it out of her eyes.

Drusilla got up, and walked back upstairs.

Angelus followed her.

"How could you do this to me?" Darla whispered, as he walked past. She was still looking down at Cassie. "You planned it all along, didn't you? This is what you wanted."

Angelus stopped, and looked down at her, as Drusilla plodded up the stairs.

"How could you do this to me?" Darla whispered again, and looked at him now, with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I don't know," Angelus said.

He wanted to take her in his arms, and tell her he would make it all right...

He didn't.

He turned away from her, and followed Drusilla up the stairs.

He reached her room a few steps behind her. Drusilla had Miss Edith in her hand now, and she was smoothing the doll's hair. She wasn't whispering. She wasn't saying anything at all.

"Dru?" Angelus said.

She turned, and looked at him.

She wasn't crying anymore.

But the light in her eyes, the beautiful, intoxicating light that he drank in, every single day...

...Was gone.

Drusilla turned away from him.

She stepped into the closet, and laid herself down on the floor, and shut the door behind her.

Angelus listened at the closet door the rest of the night. Drusilla didn't say a word. When he talked to her, she didn't respond.

In the morning, when Angelus went downstairs, Darla was gone. He searched the house, but there was no sign of her. She had slipped out sometime during the night, he realized, while his attentions were focused on Drusilla's closet door; while he was desperately listening for a whisper that never came.

He wasn't sure where Darla had gone, but he knew she wouldn't be coming back to the house. He wasn't sure he would ever see her again.

Cassie's body was gone too. The blood was cleaned up.

When the sun went down, he explored the grounds.

He found a freshly-dug grave in the yard, with roses arranged on top.

He kept Drusilla in the closet for two more months after that. He didn't know why he hesitated to turn her.

She didn't say a word. She did everything he told her to do. She laid beneath him on the bed while he fucked her, and she sat in the tub while he bathed her, and she ate when he told her to eat. He wasn't a cook so he had her do the cooking. Once a week, at night, he took her out shopping and she bought food.

He talked to her, and she never replied. He looked at her, and saw nothing in her eyes. She held Miss Edith, and smoothed her hair. She laid in the closet, more than twenty hours a day, every day, and he sat by her door, and listened for whispers that never came.

Eventually, he stopped fucking her. Instead, he laid with her on the bed for an hour a day, and held her in his arms.

After Drusilla had been in the closet for one-hundred and thirty-one days, he turned her. He told her what he was going to do, before he did it. He told her about vampires. He told her she would become one.

She didn't say anything.

It was a cold night in November. It was raining. The sky was black. The rain pelted the window; it sounded like bullets falling to the floor.

Angelus bit into Drusilla's neck--gently, so as to hurt her as little as possible. She whimpered, and cried, as he killed her.

He cried too.

"He's here," Buffy said, when they parked outside of Angel's mansion.

"How do you know?" Xander said.

"I can smell him," Buffy said. She got up slowly, careful not to disturb Faith's sleep, and got out of the car. She leaned on the window, and looked in at Willow and Xander.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said. "But there's no other way. Just remember he has his soul again. He'd never hurt you guys."

Xander nodded. Willow looked straight ahead at the road.

Buffy stood in front of the mansion a moment, before going inside. She let her senses reach out.

She knew he was there; she smelled him. He smelled like a vampire.

She stood looking up at the mansion's stony, brooding facade, and shivered in the cold breeze. The mansion rose up monolithically in the dark before her, a series of intricately ornamented, interlocking concrete blocks, built into an array of connected rectangular shapes that made it all look like a Mayan temple on the outside. It had always seemed mysterious and exciting and romantic, just like him, whenever Buffy had been there before...it always seemed as if there would be secrets there for the taking; a place where hidden knowledge was revealed, where the secrets of the universe would be made explicit, if only you knew the right questions to ask...

But Buffy knew that mansion fostered secrets instead of revealing them, and now it didn't even look mysterious to her anymore: it looked like a pile of ugly, decaying stone. It looked like a crypt...a place to bury dead things.

The scent of jasmine greeted her on the cold breeze, wafting out from the interior courtyard. Angel liked jasmine.

His scent was still there; the jasmine couldn't disguise it. He smelled like a vampire...like rotten meat. Buffy wondered how she had gone so long without really noticing that before. Or maybe she had, and she had always ignored it? Gotten used to it, somehow?

For just a second, she wanted to cry.

Faith's scent came to her then. Faith always smelled a little fruity, with a slight muskiness underneath. "Like a peach, baby," Buffy had whispered in her ear, when they'd made love in Faith's motel room earlier that night. Buffy could detect Willow and Xander's scents too, but Faith's was stronger.

Buffy entered the mansion's circular stone courtyard. Jasmine flowers, white with five petals each like little stars in the darkness, hung in pots all over and grew climbing everywhere along the granite walls, and the smell of it was strong and very sweet now, overpowering Angel's smell; he wasn't nearby. But Buffy knew she couldn't lose his scent even if she wanted to. He was a vampire and his scent trail was like a neon sign to a Slayer.

She entered the mansion proper, her shoes echoing along the granite floors, and she hugged herself a little. It was cold. She felt like she was underground, walking through tunnels. The walls were stone decorated with mosaics of figures from Greek history and mythology and the ceilings were stone too, and very low. The air was stale. But Angel didn't breathe.

She walked down the long main hallway, glancing at the mosaics as she went; she had never really noticed them before. They were beautiful, but she had only ever had eyes for Angel. She noticed them now, for the first time. She saw Apollo and Athena at war over Troy, and three-hundred Spartans at Thermopylae, braced for the final Persian advance. She saw minotaurs and nymphs, and Zeus throwing lightning bolts, and Poseidon sending storm clouds at ships over the sea. She saw the gods feasting together, laughing on the terrace of a golden palace on a mountaintop under a bright sun.

There were torches along the walls; Angel had them lit tonight. They were sandalwood and they were pungent when they were lit, and fragrant. But the torches didn't warm that place, and the light was feeble. Buffy walked through the shadows, through the scent of sandalwood, toward the scent of rotten meat.

She came upon him in the room he liked to use as a study. Angel sat on the leather couch near the statue of Aphrodite, with a book in his hand. He sat very still as he read, serene and centered within himself. There was absolutely no wasted movement. To Buffy he always looked like he was meditating.

He was beautiful, Buffy thought: even now, after everything that had happened between them, he was still one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. He was like a statue of a god in repose. A mate for Aphrodite.

But Faith was even more beautiful, Buffy thought.

Buffy and Angel had kissed, naked together, on that couch; they liked it better than the bed. Under Aphrodite's smiling gaze they had been naked in each other's arms, and they had kissed, and told each other they loved each other, just a year ago...a lifetime ago now.

Angel was reading The Scarlet Letter. It was a battered old leather hardcover; the binding was broken and the cover was partially detached from it. Buffy had no doubt in her mind that he bought it for the modern equivalent of maybe twenty cents in a bookstore somewhere in Europe sometime in the nineteenth century and had lugged it around with him for a hundred years; that's just the way he was. He still had tickets to a ballet he had seen in 1890 and he still had his old riding cloak that Buffy had tried on three occasions to throw away and he didn't understand why bread didn't cost a nickel no matter how many times Buffy tried to explain to him about inflation. Angel didn't get inflation.

The book had gilt edges that Buffy knew would be real gold. It was old and damaged but still beautiful in its way, like him.

He wore stylish black pants that fit him well and black shoes and a maroon silk shirt and his hair was perfect as always, and he looked ridiculously handsome. But he still smelled like rotten meat.

"It's been awhile," he said. He didn't look up from his book.

"I've been...busy," Buffy said. "We need to talk."

"I know," he said, finally looking at her. He reached out, and took her hand for a moment. He needed to make sure she was solid.

It was awkward; somewhere between a handshake and a caress. Time was, he would have taken her in his arms and kissed her instead.

He knew he couldn't do that anymore.

"Have a seat," he said.

She sat in one of the leather chairs.

He looked at her. He waited.

Angel never really initiated conversations, and Buffy wished just this one goddamned time that he would. But he didn't. He just looked at her, and waited, as always. Angel was always consistent. Buffy always knew what she was getting, with Angel. Until one day she woke up, and he had lost his soul, and his eyes when he looked at her had nothing in them anymore...not one single thing.

Buffy knew Angel could smell Faith all over her. Buffy knew that he knew about her and Faith. But he didn't say anything, and he waited.

"There are these new vamps," Buffy said. "I came to warn you, and ask for your help."

"Tell me," he said.

"We ran into them in King's Park Cemetery. They must have a hideout underground there. There were more than a hundred of them. They look like wolves, and they all have these tattoos..."

"The Vigil of Saint Vigeous."

"Yeah," Buffy said, and grinned. "It's kind of annoying how you always know everything. What happened to the French poetry by the way?"

"Got kinda tedious after awhile," he said. "Translating was a bitch."

"After how long awhile?"

"End of the first poem."

"You hung in there though."

"Yeah. It's one of the things I know how to do. Unfortunately the poetry never got any less annoying."

"Scarlet Letter, huh? Never read that one...though actually I think maybe I was supposed to. Maybe in tenth grade. What's it about?"

"Sin. Tell me more about the vampires. They attacked you?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Like a hundred of them. They wanted this rock thingie that's actually like a Key? And Giles says it can release the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

"Did they get it?" Angel said, leaning forward now, his tone suddenly very urgent.

"No. These vamps were delivering it--normal vamps, not the Vigil guys--and the Vigil guys had these four like, priests with them?"

"Did the priests have gold pendants around their necks? A sword, a wand, a cup, a pentacle?"

"Yeah, thought I saw some kind of gold bling around their necks. Didn't get too close a look though. Anyway Will did like this smoke spell and we were able to steal the Key and get the hell out of there. But it was close and we almost all got killed. At first there were only like a dozen of the wolf guys but then once the smoke cleared there were more than a hundred. Plus they're tougher than regular vamps too. If Will didn't throw up an energy shield it would've been over. And it gets worse. Twenty of them came after Willow at the Bronze, they wanted to kidnap her for some reason. I wasn't there, I was down at Willy's smacking him around at the time. If Faith hadn't been with Willow I would've lost her. I need your help. These guys are still after us, and--"

"Faith. The other Slayer."

"Yeah."

"How are you two doing? You told me it was rough at first."

"We...we're getting better. We don't fight so much now. I think it was just, y'know, two Slayers together..."

Angel thought of Buffy and Faith together. He saw them in his mind, together.

She spent her afternoon kissing Faith's feet and eating her pussy by the way. Seriously, not lying. She got down on her knees and kissed Faith's feet for awhile and told her she wanted to worship her back in Faith's motel room, and then she ate Faith's pussy...

Angel tried to dismiss the image from his mind. He tried to ignore Faith's scent on Buffy...on her lips.

"What do you need me to do?" he said.

"These wolf guys walked right into the Bronze, they're not afraid of public displays of grumpiness," Buffy said. "For all I know they'll attack my house. Faith took them down but she's hurt and needs to recover. I need you at the house. Don't worry, my Mom's gone for a couple weeks. Will and Xander and Faith are staying with me until we figure this out."

"Is Faith okay?" Angel said.

"She's pretty beat up," Buffy said. "Broken bones, fractured skull, a bad slash took a chunk out of her stomach. But she's tough. She'll be okay, she just needs time."

She ate Faith's pussy for forty-two straight minutes. Seriously, I clocked her. The girl might be absolutely clueless when it comes to sucking dick but damn, can she eat a peach...

Angel tried to center himself.

"Good," he said. "They'll try for the Key."

"They need to do the ceremony at sunset on the seventeenth," Buffy said.

"Last day of the waning moon."

"And again with the knowing everything."

"A lot of ceremonies include it. It became really fashionable for awhile, it was the cool new thing. Nowadays it's just kinda quaint."

"Problem is there's a last day of the waning moon every month forever and Giles doesn't think the Key can be destroyed. With these Vigil guys still out there I need you."

"Do you?" Angel said.

"I just said so," Buffy said.

He got up, and walked to the statue of Aphrodite.

"I've been thinking about moving to Los Angeles, Buffy," he said. "I've been thinking about leaving."

"Leaving?" Buffy said. "Why?"

"I can't...I can't be what you need," he said, still looking at Aphrodite, and not turning around. "I can't give you what you deserve."

She leaped up out of the chair and ran to him.

"I don't want you to leave!" she shouted. She spun him around. "You... you can't just...just leave me again!"

"Buffy...are you gonna talk to me about Faith?" Angel said. "Or are you gonna make me actually ask the question?"

"I have to go in there," Willow said.

She had been looking straight out at the street the entire time. She hadn't said a word until this moment.

"What?" Xander said. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm still afraid of him, Xander," Willow said. "I'm tired of being afraid."

She got up, and left the car.

"Hey!" he shouted, and jumped out of the car and ran around to her and grabbed her arm. "What are you...what are you doing?"

"Getting past this," Willow said, and tried to walk away from him. But he didn't let go of her.

"Then I'm going with you," he said.

"No," she said. "One of us has to stay with Faith. It's night and it's dangerous around here and vampires can get in the car."

"If I'm not going in there you're sure as hell not," Xander said.

She looked at him.

"Do you know how much I love you?" she said, and stroked his cheek, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "How much I always have? How I'd do anything for you?"

"Then do this for me," Xander said. "Don't...don't go in there alone. Please. I don't want him...near you, without me around. The things he said..."

"Those things are why I have to go in there and face him alone. I'm afraid all the time, Xander," she said. "I can't live, being afraid of him. Having nightmares. You've seen me wake up screaming a couple of times. I can't do it. I can't live like this. If you love me you'll let me...you'll let me do this, sweetie. You'll let me help myself."

"Please. I don't...I don't want you there with him. Buffy said he'd stay away, that he'd stay out of sight and avoid us at the house."

"If I don't do this I'll be afraid of him for the rest of my life, Xander. I've done stuff for you. If you really love me as much as I love you, you'll do this for me. Please, baby. Let me...you gotta let me do this."

He let go of her arm. She kissed him.

"Thanks," she said, and walked away.

Then she turned to him, and smiled.

"Still kicking your ass later," she said.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he said.

"Do you love her?" Angel said. They sat on the couch now, holding hands.

"Yeah," Buffy said. "She's...in my heart, Angel. We've...slept together."

"Kinda guessed that part from her scent being all over you. Didn't think you liked girls."

"Everyone keeps saying that. For the record, I didn't think so either. Can't wait for the conversation with my Mom."

"Joyce will understand. All she wants is for you to be happy."

"Maybe. But there's gonna be a whole lotta freaking out first. Still, no condom lecture. That'll be a nice change of pace."

"Does Faith love you?"

"I think so. I hope so."

"Does she make you happy?"

She hugged him.

"Yeah," Buffy whispered, with tears in her eyes.

He held her. But Buffy thought his hands felt cold.

"I didn't...I didn't mean to, Angel," Buffy said. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Angel said. "You're happy, Buffy. That's all that matters. That's the only thing I've ever wanted."

"What about...what about you?" she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Don't you get anything? Don't you...get to be happy?"

"No," Willow said.

Buffy and Angel looked up.

Willow was standing in the doorway, looking at them.

Her eyes were black.

"Will....what...?" Buffy said, as she and Angel stood up.

"Willow," Angel said.

I felt only contempt for most of you...but there are some I've always found interesting. You interest me, Angel.

Only one other person in the world right now interests me more.

"Hey, lover," Willow said, and smiled. "Miss me? Miss your old, y'know, tied up in the closet girl?"

"Will," Buffy said, and stepped between Willow and Angel, and shuddered when she saw those black, black eyes....

"What?" Willow said, without looking at her.

"Look, I know there's...I know Angelus said stuff to you," Buffy said. "But you know Angel's got his soul back now. You gave it to him. You know he wouldn't...he wouldn't ever..."

Willow walked away from her. She looked around the room.

"Nice," Willow said, looking at everything in the room. "Chandelier's a bit much, but yeah, it's sorta you. Walls could use a little something. Maybe a rug too. But hey, fireplace? Nice. And I really like the Aphrodite statue. I mean, alabaster? Can't go wrong with alabaster." She made a circuit of the room, and ended up standing in front of a closet. She opened it, and looked inside. There was nothing in there.

"Is this my closet?" Willow said. "Is this where you were gonna do it to me? I don't see a pillow in here. Dru got a pillow."

Buffy looked at Angel, her face suddenly pale. He couldn't meet her eyes.

She stepped away from him.

She stood in the center of the room, halfway between Willow and Angel.

"Willow...what...are you doing?" Buffy said. "Please talk to me. Please?"

"Aw, sure, sweetie, let's talk," Willow said, and turned to her, and smiled. "Always up for, y'know, a good talk with my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Hey, let's talk about Faith. If she wakes up out there, exactly how many seconds do you think it will take her to figure out there's a vampire in here and then run in and try to kill him?"

"She's...asleep," Buffy said.

"You better hope so," Willow said. "Because Xander sure can't slow a Slayer down, I don't care how hurt she is. And y'know what? I'm thinking he won't even try. She wakes up, she'll hop all the way in here on one foot to dust your fucking boyfriend."

It was the first time Buffy had ever heard Willow swear.

"Will...you....you know Angel isn't evil anymore," Buffy said, and slowly walked toward her. "You know all that stuff...it was just because he lost his soul."

"Hey, you wanna see something nifty?" Willow said, and held out her hand. "Look what I just figured out how to do!"

The fire in the fireplace suddenly leapt straight into Willow's hand, and formed itself into a ball. Buffy gasped, and immediately ran in front of Angel, blocking his body with hers.

"Hey, I thought we were gonna talk, Buffy?" Willow said. "Pretty one-sided conversation so far."

"Buffy, go sit down," Angel said. "This is...about me."

"No," Buffy said.

"Aw that's so sweet," Willow said. "Our little Buffy, all standin' up for her man. Would you choose him over me, Buffy? Over Xander, Giles? Your Mom? Would you choose him over Faith? If you had to decide, right now...who would you choose?"

"Buffy, get out of the way!" Angel said, and tried to push her aside. Buffy didn't move.

"No!" Buffy shouted, not taking her eyes off Willow.

"Bored now," Willow said. "Wait, I know how to liven up the conversation. Hey Buffy, wanna know a secret? Me and Angel, we got a secret."

"Will...what...?" Buffy said.

"Hey lover," Willow said, smiling at Angel. "Tell her what happened in the car."

Angel looked straight at Willow...and didn't say a word.

"C'mon, don't you remember?" Willow said. "I do. I remember every single second."

Willow's smile disappeared.

"I have nightmares," Willow said. "Every night."

"Willow...I'm..." Angel started.

"Don't you say you're sorry to me or I swear to the Goddess I will fucking burn you to death," Willow said.

She turned away from them and paced around the room some more, balancing the fireball in her hand. She ended up back at the closet. She looked inside again. It was dark, and small. The light from the fireball revealed it...but there was nothing there.

"Nothing," Willow said. "That's what...what I was gonna be."

Buffy approached her, came as close to her as she could. The heat from the fireball in Willow's hand affected the air around it, distorting it in waves.

"Will..." Buffy said.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Buffy. I could never hurt you," Willow said, with her back turned to her...still looking in the closet. "Stop...y'know, acting all scared of me. It's freaking me out."

"I know, Will," Buffy said. "I know you'd never hurt me. But...you're really scaring me. I'm worried. Not about me. I'm worried about you, Will."

Willow turned, and Buffy backed away from her, as the heat from the fireball scorched the air around her. "Wanna see a neat trick, Buffy?" Willow said. "Check this out."

And Willow extended her hand...

And the fireball shot out of her hand like a rocket, straight at Angel.

"NO!" Buffy screamed, thinking to jump in front of it, but the fireball was already across the room before she could even move...

Angel didn't move. Didn't even blink...

The fireball stopped, a foot from Angel's heart. It stopped, and remained there, suspended in the air in front of him.

"Made you look," Willow said.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Buffy screamed. "Please, Will! Please don't do this."

"'Please'," Willow said. "That was Angel's favorite word. That's the word he wanted me to say. Y'know, when I was all, tied up in the closet. He was--"

"Will! You have to stop this!" Buffy shouted.

"I'M TALKING NOW!" Willow screamed, and waved her arm through the air. Buffy was instantly hurled the length of the room. But she landed on one of the leather chairs without being hurt.

"Buffy!" Angel shouted, and tried to move, but the fireball flared, and moved with him, holding him back.

"Interrupting is, y'know, kinda rude, Buffy. So sit, 'kay, sweetie?" Willow said. "There's an energy shield in front of you. Don't touch it."

Buffy stood up. "Will...what...what did you...?" she said.

"You keep interrupting," Willow said. "It's kinda pesky. You needed a time-out."

Buffy took her stake out of her boot and reached out with it. Electric sparks flashed through the air in front of her. Buffy looked at Angel. She looked into Willow's black eyes.

"Will," Buffy said. "Please don't do this. Please?"

"Stay away from the shield, okay, Buffy?" Willow said. "Don't touch it, it can hurt you. Okay?"

"Willow," Angel said.

Willow turned to him, and smiled. Angel looked into her eyes. It was like looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Yes, lover?" Willow said.

"Do me a favor," Angel said.

Willow's eyes widened. Her mouth became a little perfect circle.

Then she burst out laughing.

She laughed hysterically, doubled-up, hardly able to breathe...

"Oh my...oh my God, oh my God, that is just...that is just priceless," Willow said, gasping, her cheeks red. "Priceless! A favor. Do you a favor."

She laughed like Willow. The laugh was loud, and goofy, and infectious. It was innocent. Despite the situation, it made Buffy smile...like it always did.

When she finally had her laughter under control, Willow looked Angel in the eyes again. "I gotta hand it to you, lover," she said. "You do know how to surprise a girl. Asking for a favor. From me. From the closet girl. While my fireball is a second away from barbecuing your undead ass. You've got balls, Angel. Big ones, to go with that big dick. Okay. Just because you had the balls to ask, yeah. A favor, sure. Anything you want baby, just name it. C'mon, swing for the fences, baby! Gimme your best shot."

"Don't hurt Buffy," Angel said. "Do what you have to do with me. Leave her out of this."

"That's the favor?" Willow said.

"Yeah," Angel said.

Willow shook her head, and walked away from him. She walked back to the closet, and stood in front of it with her back turned to him.

"Waste of a favor," she said. "I'd never hurt Buffy. I'd die first."

Willow sat down on the floor in the closet, in the dark, and looked out at them. The shadows swallowed her.

But Buffy could still see Willow's black eyes...

"Angel...Angelus...came up on me in the parking garage at the mall one night," Willow said. "My Mom was out of town so I had her car. He was so fast... I didn't even see him move. He was just...suddenly there. I tried to get away but... he smashed the window, got in the car."

"Willow, you...don't have to sit in there," Angel said.

"He made me take him down by the old train tracks," Willow said. "He put his arm around me as I drove. I was wearing a skirt and he said I looked pretty in it. He...touched my leg. His hands were cold. He talked to me as I drove, with his arm around me. He told me what he was planning on doing to me. Not then, not that night, but soon."

Buffy looked down at the floor.

She was thinking of a number.

"When we got to the train tracks, Drusilla was there," Willow said. "She... she called me 'red robin'. She made me sit in the back seat with her, and she held my hand."

Buffy felt Willow's eyes on her. She looked back up at them. They looked like two holes had been cut out of the world.

"Do you know what Angelus did to Dru?" Willow said. "You've talked to her, Buffy, you know Dru's insane. Do you know how she got that way?"

"No," Buffy said.

"Never told her, huh Angel?" Willow said, and looked at him. "Gee, I wonder why."

Angel looked away from her.

"Darla found Dru, in England in 1860," Willow said. "Dru was special, because she had psychic visions. Darla thought Angelus would be interested in Dru. It's one of the things Darla did for Angelus. She found him victims. Girls to rape and murder. Darla led Angelus to Dru, and he was fascinated with her. So instead of just raping Dru and killing her like all the rest, he wanted to turn her. And before he did, he wanted to drive her insane. So that when he finally did turn her, that pain she felt would be preserved forever, and she'd never be released from it, never have any rest from it. She would be his greatest achievement. His masterpiece. That's what he called her. His masterpiece."

Willow looked around at the closet. She touched the walls. Then she looked back down at the floor.

"Darla managed to get them invited into Dru's house," Willow said. "They killed the servants, beat the father and the mother and tied up Dru and her two sisters. The father they locked in the attic. The mother they stripped naked, and then they put a dog collar and a leash on her. They kept Olivia like that for months, on a leash and down on all fours like a dog, and they made Dru and her sister Cassie take her for walks in the yard every night. They didn't allow Olivia to talk in front of her daughters. They didn't ever let her stand up or wear clothes. She had to crawl around like a dog and go to the bathroom by a tree in the yard, while Dru and Cassie held her leash. Oh yeah, plus Angelus raped her too, of course. I mean, hey, perfectly good woman right there, might as well rape her, right? Made Olivia blow him in front of her daughters."

"Why...why are you telling me this stuff?" Buffy said.

"Maybe because Slayers shouldn't fuck vampires," Willow said.

Buffy's face turned red. She looked down at the floor.

"Buffy," Willow said.

Buffy looked up at her again.

"I'm sorry," Willow said. "I didn't...I didn't mean it like that."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Buffy said. "Finish the story."

"Drusilla had two sisters, Veronica and Cassie," Willow said. "Dru was the oldest, Veronica was a few years younger, and Cassie was the youngest; she was sixteen. Dru and Cassie were sort of shy. Dru wrote poetry and collected dolls. Cassie painted."

Willow smiled.

"Cassie was a wonderful painter," Willow said. "If she'd lived she could have been one of the all-time greats. She did a lot of portraits but her landscapes were even better, they were beautiful. Her stuff was like, impressionist, sort of? Except she came up with her style independently, before the impressionists started exhibiting their stuff in public. She was a genius. She could have been the next Cézanne, the next Goya. She was only sixteen and her stuff was already amazing. If she'd lived, she would've been..."

Willow's smile disappeared.

"But she didn't," Willow said. "None of them did. Angelus figured out the family dynamic pretty quickly, he always could read people. He planned to use Dru's family against her. He saw that Dru was closest to Cassie. Neither of them was close to Veronica; Veronica was sort of a tomboy and she had no time for art or poetry or dolls or being girly. She was always out with their father. Veronica didn't like Cassie much and she couldn't stand Dru, not just because they were different but because their parents were worried about Dru's visions and the local priest told them Dru's visions came from the Devil. Veronica always sided with her father, and her father wanted to send Dru away to a convent."

Willow hugged herself, and looked down at the floor again.

"Dru's Dad, he didn't love her," Willow said. "He beat on her. He beat on her for just...just for...for no reason. He used to always just...hit her."

There were tears in Willow's eyes now. She looked up at Buffy.

"Parents...they shouldn't...they shouldn't hit their kids," Willow said. "They shouldn't. Dru never did anything bad. She tried to be good, tried to be what they wanted but her Dad, he always kicked the shit out of her. He smacked her around, y'know? He beat on her real bad. He..."

Fuckin' little twat, Willow heard.

She shook her head like there were mosquitoes buzzing around it.

Always causin' trouble since the day I shit you out.

"Will?" Buffy said. But Willow could barely hear her.

Teach you to fuckin' talk back to me you worthless little...

Willow held her head in her hands, and tried to concentrate. She felt Buffy's eyes on her; she felt Buffy's concern. She felt Angel's eyes on her too. But he was just confused...Willow felt like she was in deep water now, sinking... she felt cold. She saw herself, fading away, down into the shadows under the water. She could only catch a glimpse of herself, now; she thought if she lost that glimpse, she'd be gone... she'd be gone forever.

Willow felt herself starting to panic.

Suddenly, there wasn't enough air. She was drowning. She couldn't breathe...

She thrashed around, and reached out...for something, anything, to hold onto...some way to keep her head above the water...

She couldn't breathe...

It's all right, Rebecca said.

Willow looked up. Angel's mansion was gone. She was in Rebecca's kitchen, in her nightgown. Rebecca knelt in front of her, holding her hand.

Willow didn't feel like she was drowning anymore. She held onto Rebecca's hand, as tight as she could. Rebecca's hand was strong. Willow knew Rebecca wouldn't let go.

Rebecca hugged her, and pulled her from the water.

You'll always have a place with me, Rebecca said. You'll always be my girl. I won't stop caring about you. I won't. Do you understand?

Willow nodded. She was still shaking a little. But she felt better now...she wasn't in the water anymore. She felt the earth beneath her feet again...

She knew where she was again. The room was coming back to her now. She could see Buffy, coming into view now. Rebecca was still there, kneeling in front of her and smiling, but she was fading away...

That's my girl, Rebecca said.

Rebecca hugged her again, and kissed her cheek. Willow felt it...it felt warm. Rebecca always felt warm.

Willow smiled.

"Will...?" Buffy said. "Are you okay?"

Rebecca faded away. Willow looked back at Buffy.

She remembered Buffy's scent...jasmine. She remembered holding her in her arms, and kissing the back of her neck...

The memories weren't hers. But they were still part of her...and they always would be...

Willow set the memories aside, and made herself focus.

"Um...yeah...so...um...Angelus knew Cassie was the key," Willow said. "Cassie was the one Drusilla loved most. Angelus raped and killed Veronica, because he didn't need her. But he made Dru watch him do it, made her watch him tear her throat out. Meanwhile they kept Olivia on the leash like a dog, and they kept the father--Arthur--locked in the attic, where Darla tortured him every day. Cassie stayed with Darla, and they didn't torture Cassie, because Angelus had something else in mind for her, and because Darla liked Cassie anyway. She wanted to turn her. And, all this time? Right from the first day? Angelus kept Dru tied up in a closet in her bedroom. He only untied her and let her out to eat, and wash, and use the bathroom...and to rape her. He raped her every day. He made her live in a closet and he raped her every day."

Willow looked at Angel. Angel looked back, into her black eyes...

Only one other person in the world right now interests me more, he heard the First saying.

And it's all your fault, baby...

"One-hundred and thirty-one days," Willow said. "That's how long Dru lived in that little dark closet. Pretty soon she was hearing voices and whispering to herself and biting the walls. Even more than what Angelus and Darla did to her family, that closet is what broke Dru...living in the dark, only being let out for an hour here and there to watch her mother being walked on a leash like a dog, or to be raped...it broke her mind, eventually. She held out as long as she could. She tried to be strong, for Cassie. But you broke her. In the end you broke her."

"Yeah," Angel said.

Willow looked back at Buffy.

"After Veronica, they killed the father next; but first they forced him to tell Drusilla he didn't love her and that he was giving her away to Angelus to be her new father," Willow said. "After Arthur said that, Angelus tied him to a tree and whipped him to death, and made Dru whip him too. Darla was taking some of Cassie's blood every day by then, and y'know how Dru can do like that hypnotism thing? The way she killed Kendra?"

Buffy nodded.

"Darla could do that too," Willow said. All the females of the Master's bloodline can do it. Guess it's lucky for us the males can't. Darla took Cassie's blood every day and implanted hypnotic suggestions in her mind. She convinced her that she and Angelus were her parents and that Olivia was a dog. Angelus got around to having sex with Cassie eventually--hey, you knew that was coming, right? But he was gentle with her; Darla made him be gentle. He was gentle with Dru, too. He never hit Dru, never hurt her physically. And trust me, that was a rare thing. Angelus liked to beat up girls. When Angelus raped and killed Veronica in front of Dru, Veronica had a broken arm and she was missing some teeth. Nope, no walks on the beach for Veronica. No flowers braided in her hair."

Buffy's face became red again.

"After that it was just Dru and Cassie and their mother, and Dru and Cassie had to walk their mother like a dog every night," Willow said. "Seeing Olivia naked and crawling on a leash and shitting like a dog in the yard was a lot more effective against Dru and Cassie than just killing her would have been. Darla really wanted Cassie to see that every night, to finally break the bond between Cassie and her mother, so Darla could be her new mother. But Angelus had his own plan, that he wasn't telling Darla about. Darla thought she would turn Cassie, but Angelus planned on using Cassie against Dru; Cassie was going to be the last thing, the thing that pushed Dru over the edge."

Tears fell down Willow's cheeks.

"It worked," she whispered.

Willow wiped her tears away.

"Angelus planned on letting Dru escape from the closet," Willow said. "Her father kept a gun in the house, always loaded, and Dru knew about it. It had been more than two months by then, and Dru was insane, but part of her was still holding on, for Cassie. By then Darla decided Cassie needed to be with a man--Cassie was a virgin--so that's when Angelus had sex with Cassie. After that, Darla killed Olivia; she didn't need her anymore by then. She buried Olivia alive in the yard. Angelus told Dru about it, as he sat by her closet door. He always sat by the closet door and listened to Dru. He told her they put the dog to sleep."

Angel remembered Drusilla's closet door...he remembered her sweet honey whispers. Those days spent sitting by her closet had passed so quickly...he missed them. He missed Drusilla's voice, and her rose scent.

"Dru knew Angelus was having sex with Cassie," Willow said. "They all had dinner together every night by then, as if they were like, a real family? Y'know, instead of like, two girls and the vampires who were raping and killing them. At dinner the day after Angelus had sex with Cassie that first time, Dru could see something was going on between them. It was the thing she feared the most. After dinner Angelus took the rope off Dru's hands when he put her in the closet, and he didn't prop the chair against the door. He knew she'd walk out and she did, just in time to see him having sex with Cassie again."

Willow looked straight at Angel. The fireball in front of Angel flared, grew larger.

"Will...don't...?" Buffy said. Willow ignored her, and looked at Angel.

"Dru got the gun," Willow said. "She tried to get Cassie out of there. She had lived in a closet for more than two months and let a soulless fucking monster rape her every day, just to have that one chance, that one chance to save her little sister, who she loved more than anything else in the world."

Willow was crying now.

"You took all the bullets out of the revolver...all but one," Willow said. "You knew what Drusilla would do...you knew she'd kill her sister to keep her out of your hands...and she did. She did."

Willow looked down at the floor, and held her head in her hands for a moment.

"Will?" Buffy said. "Are you...are you okay, baby?"

Willow shook her head.

"I didn't...Dru...Dru didn't say a word after that," Willow said. "Angelus kept her in the closet another couple of months. She was in there for a hundred and thirty-one days all together, by the time he finally turned her. But she never talked again, after she killed Cassie. After she killed Cassie, Dru was dead too."

Willow looked back up at Buffy. The tears were streaming down Willow's face now; she didn't bother trying to wipe them away anymore.

"When Angelus had me down by the train tracks he said he was gonna kidnap me," Willow said. "Not then, but soon. I wouldn't know when, but I wouldn't be able to stop it. He said he was gonna take me and bring me somewhere, and strip me naked, and, and, tie me up and lock me in a closet. He said he would rape me, every single day, because he thought I was cute and because I look like I give great head and I'd love his big dick. And I could never leave the closet. I'd have to live in the closet."

Buffy held her head in her hands, and started to cry.

"He said he'd take some of my blood, every day," Willow said. "To get me used to it, and he...um...he...he was gonna...make me watch while he killed Xander and my parents and Giles and everyone I loved. He said I was...I was the new Dru. I was gonna be his next masterpiece. Dru held my hand in the back seat while Angelus told me all this stuff. She called me 'red robin'. That's what she always used to call Cassie. Cassie had red hair and green eyes, like me. While Angelus told me this stuff, Drusilla was crying."

Willow sat in the closet, in the dark, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Buffy sat in the chair, holding her head in her hands and sobbing. Angel stood motionless, staring straight ahead, at nothing.

"He said there was no way to stop any of this, that it was gonna happen, that it was inevitable," Willow said. "His voice was soft when he talked, not all, y'know, snarky and sarcastic and yelling the way he usually was. He caressed my hair. He told me this was for real, that it wasn't just another mind-game to screw with us, that he wasn't playing around, that it was gonna happen and that I needed to prepare myself. He told me he'd had his eye on me for a long time and he'd always wanted to do this. He said that some things are just...just meant to be."

Willow's black eyes looked out at Buffy, from the shadows. Buffy looked back at them.

"That some things are just gonna happen, no matter how hard we try to stop them," Willow said. "They're inevitable."

Willow's eyes were blacker than the darkness around her....they were absolute black. The absence of light.

"He said he was gonna capture you by taking Joyce hostage and luring you here," Willow said. "He was gonna give you a choice. Step into the chains he had waiting for you on the wall or he'd rip Joyce's throat out in front of you. After he had you chained up he was gonna beat you every day and rape you in front of me every day and make me watch. He was gonna...he was gonna...make me join in. He said I'd join in, because if I didn't he'd, he'd, just kill you right there. He was gonna let Joyce go, because he figured you'd make him promise anyway in exchange for letting him have you and he wanted her to live with the knowledge that you being captured was all her fault."

Buffy looked up at Angel. He didn't look back at her. His scent came to her. Rotten meat.

"He said...said after he was done...beating you and, and, making me help him rape you he was gonna...gonna turn me," Willow said, and started to tremble. "Either that, or he'd make me live in the closet for the rest of my life. He said...if I...if I said 'please'? He'd let me out of the closet and turn me. And then...he was gonna...he was gonna make me...make me be the one who kills you."

Buffy was still looking at Angel. He had tears in his eyes now too.

"And then...and then...Angelus...he had Dru...look in my eyes," Willow said. "She...she said she was sorry as she did it, she was crying as she did it. But she...she made me look in her eyes and...held my hand and..."

Willow held her head in her hands, and looked down at the floor again. Both of her hands were shaking now.

All the color drained from Buffy's face.

Buffy felt something in her stomach...a cold thing.

"Angelus said...he said...he was gonna give me a taste. A taste of what was coming," Willow said. "And Dru...she looked in my eyes and hypnotized me and she made me...she made me...read her memories. All her memories, from the day Angelus and Darla walked into her house. But...not just read them. She...I don't know how she was able to do it but she...it's like she forced them into my head and...she made me...she made me...live them."

"No," Buffy whispered, and shook her head, and started to cry again.

"I lived Drusilla's memories, every second of them, as if they were happening to me," Willow said. "I was...I was in the closet. I was in the closet. I lived in the closet for a hundred and thirty-one days."

"No, baby," Buffy whispered, still shaking her head.

Willow looked up at her.

"I still remember it all," Willow said. "I remember walking Olivia on her leash. I remember how bad Olivia smelled, because they never let her take a bath. I remember whipping Arthur. I remember the look in Veronica's eyes, when Angelus killed her in front of me. I remember Darla's perfume. I remember killing Cassie. I remember...I remember...Angelus raping me every day."

"No, baby," Buffy whispered. "No, no..."

"I remember," Willow said. "I remember, I remember. I remember it all..."

Willow closed her eyes, and held her head in her shaking hands, and cried, her whole body trembling now.

"I'm afraid, Buffy!" Willow screamed. "I'm afraid of him, I have, I have nightmares. Nightmares of him saying it's gonna happen and I can't stop him and...I'm...I'm afraid of my closet. I can't...I can't hang my clothes up anymore."

The fireball hovering in front of Angel disappeared. Angel didn't move.

"I'm afraid," Willow whispered, crying.

Buffy leaped up and ran straight for her. The energy shield was gone, but she hadn't even thought about it and didn't even realize it was gone until after she reached Willow. Buffy skidded to a halt and dropped to her knees on the floor in front of Willow, and took her in her arms.

Buffy pulled her from the closet, and brought her into the light, and shut the closet door.

And she held Willow in her arms, and they cried on the floor together.

"I love you," Buffy whispered. "I love you, Will. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Willow nodded. "I love you too," she whispered.

"He won't help," Buffy said. "Okay? He won't come to the house. We'll, we'll do it without him. We'll figure something else out. You'll never, never see him again. I promise. Never again."

Willow looked up at her. Her eyes were green again.

"No," Willow said. "We need him, Buffy."

"No. We'll find another way," Buffy said.

"You have to let me be strong, Buffy," Willow said. "You have to let me stop being afraid. You have to let me face this. If I don't face this, if I don't face him? Then I can never make it past him."

"But...I...I want to protect you, baby," Buffy said.

"I know," Willow said. "It's part of why I love you." Willow wiped the tears from her eyes. "But, protect me, protect us too much? And we can't ever become strong. We need to be strong, Buffy. We need you to let us be strong."

Willow got up. Buffy didn't let go of her. She stood up with Willow, with her arms still around her.

"If not we'll lose, Buffy," Willow said. "If not this fight, then another one someday. Me doing magic, Xander learning to fight...it doesn't sound like much now but you're gonna need us. You can't do it all alone. I won't let you. I love you too much. If you told me to, y'know, just stay home? I'd follow you around."

Buffy smiled, and nodded. Willow gently pulled away from her, and walked right up to Angel. And looked him in the eyes. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now.

"I'm afraid of you, Angel," Willow said. "But I'm a little less afraid than I was. You took something from me and today I got some of it back. I'm still afraid of you, but someday, I know I won't be afraid. What you did won't be a part of me forever. I won't let it."

"Good," Angel said.

"I know it wasn't you, not really," Willow said. "I know...you wouldn't hurt us. But there's a monster in you and it will always be there, Angel. And maybe you should kill yourself. Because yeah, tryin' to be the big hero? If you had killed yourself instead Angelus would never have gotten out. The people you've saved, the monsters you've fought back, are they worth Jenny and those eighteen girls? Are they worth the next batch of people who are gonna die if Angelus gets out again? You died more than two centuries ago, Angel. This life you have, this life being the big hero? It isn't yours. You stole it. You stole it from all the people you've murdered."

She walked away from him, and noticed the book on the couch.

"The Scarlet Letter," she said, and looked at him.

He looked back at her, and nodded.

"I'm gonna find Dru, Angel," Willow said. "I'm gonna find her, and I'm gonna kill her. Not because of what she did to me. Because of what you did to her. I don't want her to have live with that pain anymore. I'm gonna release her from it, so she can have some peace. If you try to stop me, I'll kill you too."

Her eyes were green, now. But when Angel looked into them, they were just as cold and hard as they had been when they were black...it was still like staring down the barrel of a gun.

"I'll be at the car, Buffy," Willow said, and left the room.

Buffy stood in the middle of the room, away from Angel, looking down at the floor, and hugging herself. She felt cold. Angel stood alone, looking at a spot on the wall.

Buffy was aware of the stake in her hand.

"How could you do this to me?" Buffy whispered.

"I don't know," Angel said.

"How could you do this?" she whispered, with tears in her eyes now.

Angel shook his head. He couldn't look at her.

"Do you know how much I loved her?" Buffy said, still looking down at the floor. "Did you know she was the one I loved, before you, before Faith? That she was the one I wanted to spend my life with? Did you know that?"

Angel shook his head again.

"I loved her and you...you..." Buffy said, and started to cry.

"Buffy," Angel whispered.

"Oh, God!" Buffy screamed, and started shaking her head back and forth. "Oh, no, oh God....oh no...oh no..."

She fell to her knees, and began to shake.

"You locked her in a closet!" Buffy screamed, as she cried. "You made her think she was locked up and, and, you hurt her. And...and you...you made her think you...you made her remember you...you..."

Buffy vomited on the floor.

And then she held her head in her hands, and cried...

"Buffy," Angel whispered. He approached her.

She turned, and looked at him.

She was still crying. But her eyes were bright and hard as diamonds...

In all the time he'd known her, Angel had never seen her eyes like this.

"Buffy," he whispered. "I'm...I'm...sorry."

He reached out his hand, and touched her shoulder...

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Buffy screamed, and leaped up, and punched him in the face. He went flying across the room, and smashed into the far wall.

"DON'T EVER FUCKING TOUCH ME!" she shrieked, and leaped at him, covering the entire room with one bound. "DON'T EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!"

She tackled him before he could even begin to get up, and started raining down punches, pummeling his face, smashing his head into the floor over and over again.

Buffy was growling now.

"Do you know what you DID?" she snarled. "Do you know what you DID TO ME?!"

She roared, and grabbed him by the hair.

"I LOVED HER!" Buffy screamed in his face, showing him all her teeth as she did, and began pummeling him again. He tried to cover up, but he didn't fight back. "I LOVED HER! How could you do that?! How could you do that to me?! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!"

She grabbed him by the throat, digging her fingernails into his flesh and drawing blood, and stood up. She roared, as she flung him across the room like a frisbee. He went sailing through the air and smashed into the bookcase, shattering it and sending all the beautiful, fragile things on it clattering to the floor. Buffy ran at him, still roaring.

"YOU RAPED HER!" Buffy screamed, and picked up the statue of Aphrodite and swung it at him. It smashed into Angel's face and sent him flying again. He bounced off the chandelier, dislodging it from the ceiling and sending it crashing into the floor. It made a pretty sound, like chimes.

Buffy leaped after Angel again, roaring and brandishing the statue of Aphrodite like a baseball bat.

Angel was on the floor, in the corner. His face was covered with blood now. Buffy stood above him, and looked at him with diamond eyes that pierced him, all the way down. She held the statue of Aphrodite above her head. "What ARE you?!" Buffy snarled. "What are you that you could DO THAT TO ME?!"

Buffy screamed, and smashed the statue of Aphrodite down on top of him. The statue exploded into pieces.

Angel's nose was broken now. He was barely conscious.

Buffy growled, and showed him her teeth. She looked around for her stake. She saw it on the floor a few feet away, and picked it up.

Then she leaped on top of Angel with her stake in her hand, and pinned him to the floor by the neck.

Buffy thought she heard something behind her. She wasn't sure what it was. Everything was a red haze now. All she could hear was herself, roaring...all she felt was her blood, pounding in her ears...and her tears, running down her cheeks...and her stake in her hand.

She roared in Angel's face. Saliva dripped from her lips.

She heard something again. She ignored it.

She raised her stake, for the killing blow...

"Do it," Angel whispered. His face looked like a piece of bloody meat.

Buffy held her stake above Angel's heart. Her hand shook.

Everything suddenly came into focus. The whole room seemed to coalesce, around the stake in her hand. The red haze went away. The pounding in her ears subsided. Angel's scent came to her. The scent of his blood came to her. She felt her energy spiking, when she smelled his blood. She growled again, louder.

He winced as she roared at him and raked his face with her fingernails, making a deep gash, taking a chunk out of it. She lunged at his neck, and nearly tore into it with her teeth. She stopped herself, at the last second.

But her stake remained exactly where it was, poised above his heart.

She looked down into his eyes. Her eyes penetrated his, and held them.

She growled at him, like a lion. Her saliva dripped down onto his face.

"Buffy!" she heard.

A new scent came to her. Strawberries.

A hand touched her shoulder. It was warm.

Buffy roared at Angel again. She lunged toward his neck again. She held her teeth an inch from Angel's neck, growling and slavering at him. She wanted to feel his neck snap in her jaws, but she didn't like the way he smelled. She focused on the strawberry smell instead. She liked that smell.

"Buffy. It's me," Willow whispered in her ear. "Come back to me, sweetie. Come back."

Buffy turned, and saw Willow. Willow touched her hand, the one holding the stake. Buffy still held it above Angel's heart.

Buffy was growling. Willow could see every one of her teeth. They looked hard and sharp. Saliva dripped from Buffy's lips. Angel's blood covered her fists; bits of his skin hung from the fingernails of her left hand. Buffy's whole body was taut, like a lion ready to spring. Her eyes were two pinpoints of light, focused directly on Willow now.

Willow froze, when she looked in Buffy's eyes. She wanted to hide herself, to cower on the floor and close her eyes and cover her face...she began to tremble.

Buffy could smell Willow's fear. She didn't like it. She didn't like the way it changed Willow's pretty strawberry scent. She didn't want Willow to be afraid. She stopped growling.

Buffy tried to remember how to speak. She tried to remember the sounds she could make with her throat, the sounds that described that strawberry scent, and those green eyes, and those warm hands...

"Willow," Buffy whispered.

Willow couldn't look away from Buffy's eyes. The light in them was bright as the sun and cold as ice and it pierced Willow like knives.

Willow had seen Buffy's eyes like this only once before...when she saw them in Faith's memories. The night the Slayer made love to her. But it in no way prepared her for the sight of them now...and so she trembled, and felt small, and wanted to hide herself.

"Willow," Buffy whispered, and touched Willow's hair, and caressed it.

Willow nodded.

Neither of them talked. Buffy caressed Willow's hair, and held her stake above Angel's heart.

After a moment, Willow stopped trembling.

Buffy caressed Willow's hair. She took Willow's hand, and kissed it.

After a moment, Willow tried to lower Buffy's stake. Buffy growled at her, but quickly stopped herself. Willow pulled her hand back like she had just touched a hot stove.

"Vampire," Buffy snarled.

"Buffy," Willow whispered. "It's me, sweetie. You...you remember me?"

"Willow," Buffy said. It was Buffy's voice, but it wasn't. To Willow it sounded like a cold wind rustling through leaves at night...it sounded like stealthy footfalls in the tall grass...

Buffy heard the prey animal beneath her cough, and felt him move a little. She whirled around and roared in Angel's face. He stopped moving.

Willow put her arms around Buffy, and kissed her cheek.

"Buffy," Willow whispered in her ear. "Do you remember me? I need you, sweetie. I need you back now."

Buffy turned around in Willow's arms, so she could look at her. She caressed Willow's hair again, with her free hand. The other hand still held the stake. It hadn't moved an inch. It was still directly above Angel's heart.

"Strawberries," Buffy whispered.

"Yeah," Willow said, and smiled. "That's me. I'm the strawberry girl."

"Willow," Buffy whispered. "Strawberries."

Willow smiled. Buffy caressed her hair. They looked in each other's eyes.

Buffy's eyes were ancient. They were the eyes of some primeval predator, who had survived this long because she was the strongest...

Willow looked into Buffy's eyes, and remembered Buffy holding her in her arms in the motel room, after they'd made love; holding her and giving her gentle kisses, and telling her she would always take care of her. Buffy had looked down at her, with eyes just like these, when she said those things, and held her tight, and kept her warm.

Willow wasn't afraid of Buffy's eyes now.

"I need you to be my strong girl now, Buffy," Willow said. "I need you to be my strong girl, and come back to me. Can you do that for me, honey?"

Buffy leaned her head against Willow's shoulder. There were other words now...she felt like she was dredging them up, from some deep, dark place... bringing the words up into the light. There was Willow...there was strawberries...

"Love," Buffy whispered. "Love Willow."

"I love you too," Willow said. "We all do. And we need you back, Buffy."

"Faith," Buffy whispered.

"She's in the car, remember?" Willow said. "We have to get her home."

"My baby," Buffy whispered. "Needs me."

Buffy held her head in her hand.

"We gotta get her home," Willow said.

Buffy nodded.

"My baby," Buffy whispered.

Buffy looked up. She looked around the room. She looked back at Angel.

She looked at her stake.

"We need him, Buffy," Willow said. "Remember?"

"Vampire," Buffy snarled, looking down at Angel.

"Remember those new vampires?" Willow said. "How there were more than a hundred of them? Remember how they want to release the Four Horsemen? We need Angel. We need his help."

"Dead thing," Buffy said, and turned, and looked down into Angel's eyes. "Prey. Kill."

"We need him, Buffy," Willow said.

Buffy looked down at Angel. He looked up at her. Buffy felt Willow's arms around her. She smelled her scent. She held her stake above Angel's heart.

"Angel," Buffy whispered.

Buffy's hand started to shake again, as she held the stake. She was quiet.

Her eyes didn't leave his. A moment passed, and then another...

Buffy's senses reached out.

She was aware of everything around her...of the room. Of the feel of her stake in her hand. Willow smelled like strawberries. She'd always loved Willow's scent...

Angel's scent came to her. Rotten meat.

His eyes had a light in them...they were beautiful. His nose was broken, and his face was bruised and bloody, and there was a deep gash running across it. She had hurt him.

And then, Buffy's senses reached in...

And she was aware of herself. She was aware of every part of herself, as if she was just now discovering herself...

She knew she was the Slayer. But she was more than just the Slayer...

She was aware of the girl she had been, before the Slayer had become part of her...Buffy Summers. But she knew she was more than her, too.

She knew now that she was more than she had ever suspected. She felt the Slayer in herself, and she felt the girl too...but neither of them seemed like her, now. She knew she wasn't either of them.

She knew she could be more powerful than either of them were alone. But in order to do it, she knew the Slayer needed to let go. And the girl needed to let go, too.

They needed to stop fighting each other. They needed to accept each other.

Buffy saw the girl, the girl she had been, standing alone, in a dark place. That place was hot and lush and vivid; everything seemed magnified there, everything felt deeper. There were eyes, diamond eyes so bright they burned her, staring at her from the darkness; the eyes were all she could see. But she could hear screams, and snarls, and beautiful moans emanating from the darkness in that place, and all of the smells were sweet: the place smelled like blood, and sex, and fear, and prey. Buffy knew the girl didn't understand that place; the girl didn't understand how to move in the dark, how to hunt, and the smells and the sounds scared her...

Buffy knew the Slayer understood that place. Buffy saw the Slayer, staring back at the girl out of the darkness, with eyes like diamonds, and not a trace of humanity...the Slayer belonged in that place. But the girl was afraid of that place, and afraid of the Slayer.

The Slayer was afraid too. Afraid to trust...afraid she'd be locked away...

Buffy didn't want them to be afraid. She loved them; she loved them both.

Buffy knew what she had to do.

She walked into the dark place. She saw the girl, and the Slayer, standing alone, separate.

She took their hands in hers...

And she remembered something. Something that had been kept from her...

She got it back.

Tears came into her eyes. She felt warm. She felt her soul, inside her; she felt joy.

She looked down at Angel. She didn't like the way he smelled. Part of her had always wanted to kill him. Part of her had always loved him.

But there were no more parts of her, now. There was just her. There was just Buffy. Buffy Summers: the Slayer. They were the same thing now.

She looked down at Angel. Her eyes weren't diamonds anymore. But they still pierced him.

"You're a vampire," Buffy said. "A monster. That's why you could do that to me. You're a monster. I should have killed you the day we first met. I wanted to. Got no fucking idea why I didn't."

"We need his help, Buffy," Willow said.

Buffy nodded. She lowered her stake.

She turned, and kissed Willow's forehead. Then she stood up, and helped Willow to stand with her. Angel sat up, on the floor. He looked dazed. There were tears running down his cheeks.

"You're not gonna die, Angel," Buffy said. "You're gonna live. You're gonna live with what you did to Willow. You're gonna live with what you did to Dru. And you're gonna live with what you did to me."

Angel nodded.

"Angel, are you...all right?" Willow said.

"I'll...be okay," Angel whispered, and coughed, and tried to stand. He nearly fell. Willow caught him, and steadied him.

"Thank you," Angel whispered.

Buffy stepped between Willow and Angel. She kept Willow behind her.

She looked at Angel. He looked back.

She wanted to kill him.

But then, she wanted to go to him...she wanted to take him in her arms and tell him she would take care of him, that she would make everything okay...

She didn't.

"Will you help?" Buffy said.

"Yeah," Angel said. "Do you...want me at the house?"

"Don't come until tomorrow night," Buffy said. "I need to explain to Faith about you first. She doesn't...doesn't know anything about any of this."

"Okay," Angel said.

They stood there. Buffy looked down at the statue of Aphrodite, in pieces. She remembered lying naked with Angel, on the couch, and looking up at that statue, as she told him she loved him...

But that was another life...the girl's life. Before she accepted who she was.

Buffy looked into Angel's eyes. They were dark, and still beautiful.

"When this is over I want you gone," Buffy said.

Then she turned away from him, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

Willow hugged her.

Buffy cried, silently. She didn't want Angel to see.

"C'mon, sweetie," Willow said. "Let's get Faith home."

Buffy nodded, and held onto Willow, and they walked out of the room together, without a backward glance.

Angel watched them go.

He listened, as their footsteps echoed down the cold stone hallway for awhile...

And then they were gone...

And he was alone.

Continued...

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