Unglued by Tango


E-MAIL: Tangofic@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: Of course I don't own them, although I wish I did!
DISTRIBUTION: Sure, just let me know.

FEEDBACK: I REALLY, REALLY appreciate everyone who has been giving me such
great feedback so far. Please keep me going by letting me know what you
think of this one! Thank you!

RATING: NC-17 - What else? *g*
LYRICS: All lyrics are from Fiona Apple.

SPOILERS: Challenge from Heather - Full description of the challenge is at
the end of the fic

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Heather, this one's for you. I hope you like it! (And I hope
it's what you had in mind.) Cheers, Tango


//i wanna spread the news that if it feels this good getting used
well, you just keep on using me until ya use me up //

The thrill of shagging The Slayer out in the open, down in the grass, was
more of a thrill than Spike had imagined - if that was possible. Snuggled
between her warm thighs, he frictioned his way into oblivion inside her.
Cool night was wrapped around him, creating a buoyancy to their movements
and her quiet moans sent tingles down his spine.

She didn't love him. Somewhere deep inside himself, far below where hope was
allow to venture, he knew she never would. Buffy Summers would never, ever
love a soulless demon. He felt like the immense shadow of his Grande Sire
Poof followed him wherever he went nowadays. Being with Buffy, didn't make
him feel guilty to his Sire, it made him jealous that he couldn't rise above
the eclipse over her heart Angel had caused.

When he was making love to her, he was sure that half of the time, when she
squeezed her eyes closed that she imagined another vampire making the pain
disappear. The truth was, that even though he loved her, this woman was not
who he fell in love with. He didn't love this empty shell of Buffy nearly as
much as he had the unreachable, larger than life, pre-death Buffy. The fact
that she yielded to his touch was undeniable proof that she was dead inside.
That knowledge lay deeper, it fell into the cracks of subconsciousness left
over when his soul fled.

The tortured, impassioned Slayer beneath him was better than the other in
one very important way - this one was his. Angel didn't know this girl,
hadn't loved her. He smiled as he moved harder and deeper inside her.
Peaches lost his Buffy. She died and hadn't came back. All that remained was

//so what would an angel say
the devil wants to know//

Spike smiled more broadly when he thought about what Angel would say, what
he would think if he could see them now. He knew Angel's torture soul would
break into chaotic panic at the sight of them rutting on the hard cold
ground like a couple of animals. Spike's successful intrusion of The Slayer
was proof that he was not less than the Poof, he was more because he had
beat harder odds. He hadn't won her heart, but he had gained access to the
emotions that no one else could even see. He got to see the true behind her
constant lies to herself and those around her.

He was the champion here. And Buffy could not resist coming back for more.


//Oh, it's evil, babe, the way you let your grace enrapture me
When well you know, I'd be insane - to ever let that dirty game recapture

Spike's fluid, undaunted, perfect motion created a tidal wave of pleasure
inside Buffy that chased everything else away. And she hated him for it. She
hated that he was the one who could touch her, that nothing else could make
her feel. She despised every tiny fraction of love he felt for her and the
person she had become.

She thought Angel had taken everything when he left, but the tiny semblance
of Buffy Summers that had remained when she lost him, was gone when she was
resurrected. It was a sad revelation that she didn't hate Spike nearly as
much as she hated herself. She hated the person who was lying in the grass,
spreading for a soulless demon when she wasn't working at a fast food
restaurant. She never had a lot of dreams for her future, but the few that
she kept tucked in the center of her clenched fists contained nothing of her
present reality.

Spike was right, she did close her eyes and she did try to pretend that the
vampire making love to her was Angel. The problem with that scenario is that
without a soul, the love Spike felt for her was a pitiful mockery of the
true emotion and nothing about his touch except it's coldness had any
resemblance to her ex-lover's. Buffy laid back and allowed Spike to take her
fears away, clenching her eyes closed tightly. Every now and then, for a
second at a time, he felt like Angel.

//is that why they call me a sullen girl - sullen girl
they don't know i used to sail the deep and tranquil sea
but he washed my shore and he took my pearl and left an empty shell of me//

This time as Buffy closed her eyes, she could feel Angel. It was almost as
if he was approaching, gently nudging his memory over the demon who she was
allowing to touch her. The feeling of her soul mate was like a psychic cure
to her indifference and she moved her hips up against Spike's, feeling heat
and a much greater arousal course through her suddenly very alive veins.

Just as her climax was approaching, she opened her eyes and allowed herself
a peek at her lover, just to make sure. But the muscular shoulders of Spike
greeted her, his blonde hair blurring in the fury of his movements. Allowing
her gaze to settle over his shoulder, she looked directly into the
anguished, brown eyed gaze of the only person she could hurt that much.


//your gaze is dangerous and you fill your space so sweet
if i let you get too close, you'll set your spell on me//

Angel walked slowly through Sunnydale, letting his body relax into the
humming sensations of The Hellmouth. The mystical energy here was always a
shock to his sensitive system and he found himself walking in time to his
old feelings. Buffy's presence washed over him and he knew she was not far.

He began moving in her direction, dropping the fake, drippy grin from his
handsome face. He was safe here, inside Buffy's love. Even if they weren't
together, he knew that she loved him, that at least a little part of her
would always be his. That thought almost made him smile but he didn't. Angel
had smiled enough lately. He didn't want to smile, he wanted to float and
dream and be close to her.

Buffy was never a "person" like Angel's friends expected him to be. She
never was that kind of human. Maybe it was The Slayer in her, but he didn't
think so. He thought it was the soul she carried inside her. One that would
have been just as beautiful without her incredible duty to the world. She
never expected him to just get over it and smile. She knew the weight of
world and tipped it carefully over her fingertips. Not to say that having
fun and smiling wasn't nice but he hadn't smiled a genuine smile since he
was in her arms. And as he walked through the streets of his love's home, he
was afraid he never would again.

He walked along and felt as if his heart was close to beating inside his
chest as he neared her. He could almost smell her perfume wafting in the air
already, he could almost hear her voice. As he closed in on her, using his
natural instinct toward The Slayer to guide him, he did smell her and he did
hear her. What he smelled was her distinctive arousal and what he heard was
her moans of pleasure.

He picked up the pace toward her, even though his mind was screaming for him
to run in the opposite direction. He couldn't believe his other senses this
time. He had to see it. He slowed to a walk as he entered a denser tree
lined place in the cemetery. Her moans were getting louder and the scent of
her sex was violent, almost feral. He finally reached the couple making love
under the shadow of a tall grave.

First he saw Buffy moving obscenely beneath her lover, which in itself was a
shock to his system, but then he saw that the lover was Spike. Even though
he couldn't see his face, he knew that a vampire was fucking his mate and he
knew inside himself that it was one of his children. The bleach blonde hair
of his kindred was flashing sign of identity. Angel shook his head, trying
to make the vision disappear but his eyes wouldn't obey his mind's begging
scream. Buffy's eyes reached him, glazed over with pleasure and his soul
snapped in half.


//angel come on down from heaven yesterday
stayed with me just long enough to rescue me//

One moment Spike was a second from coming inside the searing Slayer and the
next his head was cracking loudly against a gravestone. His shoulder scraped
painfully along the rough cement as he slid to the ground.

"Bloody hell, Slayer," he yelled, holding his head and looking around for
the lover that had tossed him off of her with superior strength, "What the
hell -"

He stopped speaking but left his mouth open as he saw his Sire's hulking
frame standing just a few feet from them. Buffy pulled on her jeans and
tried to pretend that Spike wasn't there, as if he would disappear by sheer
force of will, that Angel would forget what he had just seen. A low growl
was coming from her ex-lover and he had turned to his game face.

Buffy could handle every humiliation in the world. She could live without
school and without a good job. She could handle her friends' distance and
her sister's anger. She could handle her self-loathing for being with Spike.
She could handle it all if only Angel hadn't been there to see it. His
witnessing of her fall from grace made her whole pitiful existence become
painfully real.

She approached him gingerly, whispering his name, pleading forgiveness in
the soothing recitation of his name. He growled louder, snarling fiercely
first at her and then at Spike and back again. The closer she got to him the
louder he growled. She reached out her hand in an attempt to touch him and
he turned away and ran.


//but, oh, it's so evil, my love, the way you've no reverence to my concern.
so i'll be sure to stay wary of you, love, to save the pain of once my flame
and twice my burn//

Just as Buffy was about to touch him, Angel ran away. He didn't need the
rest of her extended hand to reach out any further to know that she wouldn't
actually touch him and he didn't need the heat of eternal flame to know he
was back in Hell. The interesting thing about Hell was how deceivingly
erratic it was in it's appearance and texture. It wasn't always hot but it
always burned. It was predictable in that way. It was a constant ebbing flow
of torment and pain.

He recognized the scene before him before his eyes connected with the
realization part of his mind. The stinging familiarity of the sught of Buffy
with Spike was a recreation of a thousand recreations of a thousand
afflictions he had while during his visit to Hell. It was exactly as it had
been before, every smell, every look, every moan was identical to what he
had been replayed again and again.

He whimpered as he ran, thinking about the other scenes he might have to
relive and how many times he would have to see this one again. Buffy
screwing Spike wasn't even one of the worst. His growls and whimpers
intermingled as he thought about his escape and knew there was none. He
wanted to wait for day and turn to dust but knew it would never come. There
would be no release and he didn't deserve it.

He tried to search his mind, trying to remember what had happened to bring
him back to eternal torment but he couldn't make the sequence of events come
together in his mind. He had driven to Sunnydale, hadn't he? He was just
visiting, wasn't he?

He thought, trying to clear his mind with logic while he had it - or
something close to it - but the vision of his lover running after him,
screaming his name was breaking his will to stay lucent. She would chase him
forever, she would make love to other men, other demons, while he looked on,
helpless. She would disembowel him, kill him and he would never die or he
would come alive again long enough for her to kill him again. He would come
back to that place where Spike was making love to her, where she was moaning
with the release of her pleasure with her beautiful legs wrapped around him.
She would smile at the sight of him and dig in with her icy green eyes. Her
smile would send a cracking whip into his soul, causing unmendable rips to
form and he would bleed with the knowledge of her hate for all eternity.

It wasn't hot here but Angel knew Hell and this was it.


//you'll never touch - these things that i hold
the skin of my emotions lies beneath my own
you'll never feel the heat of this soul
my fever burns me deeper than i've ever shown...to you//

"Fuck!" Spike yelled as he zipped up his pants, watching Buffy sprint after
Angel. There was no escape from reality this time. There was no hiding
behind the fake knowledge that he could somehow hold on to a part of her
that Angel could not have. In the barest drift of time that just passed, he
lost anything he might have held of her - which wasn't much.

She literally tossed him aside for another and he knew now that he never had
any part of her. He had sex. She used him to feel. The emotion that covered
her face for Angel was the fiercest feeling she had since her death. He knew
that for certain.

He leaned against the gravestone and crossed his arms, wondering where he
could possibly go from here.


//let me know the way before there's hell to pay
give me room to lay the law and let me go
i've got to make a play to make my lover stay//

Buffy ran after Angel as quickly as her shorter legs could carry her. She
panted as she ran, screaming his name over and over. Instead of slowing him
down or causing him to stop, her voice seemed to push him further away. It
was as if her screams urged his feet to move even faster.

Buffy couldn't wonder what she was going to do or say when she finally
caught up with him. She couldn't allow her mind to get that far. She didn't
know how she was going to explain it, she just knew she had to catch him.
His forgiveness had to be in him somewhere. If it wasn't, then the last
shred of her need to survive would disappear.

He didn't stop until he made it to the mansion and she followed him inside.
He finally turned to face her, snarling like a wild beast. She was certain
he still had his soul, but she couldn't see it in his eyes. All she saw was
pain, fear anger...and the loss of hope.

"Angel," she said, stepping closer.

He backed up when she stepped forward and growled his warning. His eyes
darted around the room for a means of escape and the only place he found he
could go was back outside. It looked like the Sunnydale sky half an hour
before dawn but he knew it would not come. Sunrise never came in Hell.
Nevertheless, he feared that doorway into what threatened sunshine.

Buffy saw him look toward the door and horror filled her entire body. He
would rather face the day than look at her. She had never known true defeat
until today - not even when he had left her. He edged to the side and she
sidestepped, blocking his possible escape. Angel snarled and charged the
phantom of his lover. He didn't fear her getting hurt because this
apparition was not Buffy but it tormented him to hurt her just the same.

Buffy ground her feet in and pivoted, sweeping his feet out from under him.
He stood and charged again, trying to gain access to the door. His large
fist made contact with her solar plexus, knocking her back two feet and
forcing the wind from her chest. She gasped for breath and Angel took the
opportunity to run toward the door.

Buffy grabbed his arm and swung him back into the room. Angel pushed back
off of the wall that he smacked into and attacked the demon wearing his
lover's face. The delicate hand, identical to Buffy's, flew out, swiping the
side of his head and he was reduced to peaceful darkness.

And he was grateful for it.


//what i need is a good defense 'cause i'm feeling like a criminal
and i need to be redeemed to the one i've sinned against
because he's all i ever knew of love//

Buffy fell on top of Angel's unmoving form and hugged his large form against
her as she sobbed. She laid her head against his chest and let every second
of her life out, crying every tear that should have been shed had she been
able to feel until now. She pulled his heavy arm over her and pretended that
he was holding her, that he understood and still loved her in spite of her

She cried for a long time against his broad chest and hoped harder that she
had ever hoped before that he would wake up and love her, forgive her. But
she was certain she had driven him insane. She recognized his behavior as
when he had returned from Hell. It was almost as if the love she had healed
him with before had disappeared in the one moment he had seen her with
Spike. And here she was, making it back full circle to the pain and guilt
she thought she had healed from - that she thought he had healed from.

She hoped he would forgive her but knew he wouldn't. She was sure he
couldn't and as she laid there, she imagined herself sucking up all the pain
from him and inserting it inside herself. She wanted to be the one to bear
the wounds this time, but there were already too many inside him for her to
take them all.


//you'll remember me like a melody
yeah, i'll haunt the world inside you //

Angel woke up with a pounding head and found that his arms were wrapped
around Buffy. He looked down at her golden hair and for a second thought
that he was okay. But as he took in her scent and the remnants of Spike's
scent, he knew this was just another painful part of his torture. He waited
for a moment, pretending his arms were around Buffy, pretending that he was
actually back in the arms of his lover. He was truly confused on whether the
truth or the pretending was more painful.

Then he looked out and saw daylight streaming in from between the heavy
drapes. He blinked several times and kept looking at the beautiful sunshine
that had actually come. He eased himself away from her and stood, mesmerized
by the possible release that waited for him there. He knew it was dangerous
to believe he could actually die and be carried away from this place but he
couldn't turn away from the sight of those rays.

He wasn't sure if dusting himself would even be an escape. He had died many
times before inside Hell but as always, he wanted so badly to believe he
could get away. He took a step toward the light and it remained there,
waiting like a dream for him to come into it. He glanced over his shoulder
and saw her still sleeping where he had left her.

She was so perfectly shaped, so flawlessly Buffy. He was almost tempted to
believe it was actually his love lying on the floor. He was tempted to
believe that this was actually the mansion and that the feeling inside him
was really coming from her. But he shook his head, trying to force the
thoughts from his mind. He had been here before and knew none of it was

He approached the light and reached his hand out, touching it with his
fingertips. Longing turned to rejoice as pain covered his hand. He watched
his skin searing in the light and smoke rising from it. He felt his face
shift but he smiled over his fangs and began to step forward.


//heaven help me for the way i am
save me from these evil deeds before i get them done
i know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand//

Buffy woke with the absence of Angel and opened her eyes. She found him
standing with his hand out in the thin ray of sunlight that trinkled in from
between the drapes.

"Angel!" she yelled standing and running towards him. His eyes widened with
surprise and he hurried into the light, hoping it was an escape and not the
doorway to another torment. Buffy launched herself at him, pushing him away
from impending death. She landed on top of him and he struggled to get away.
He looked back at the light every few seconds as he wrestled The Slayer, or
something that looked like The Slayer, fearing that his chance would

Buffy could not keep him down on the floor. She thought he might have grown
stronger since he left or maybe she just didn't remember clearly how strong
he really was. She glanced over at the chains across the room but they were
too far. There was no way she was going to get an enraged, suicidal vampire
all the way across the room, let alone chain him up.

"Damn it, Angel," she yelled, slamming his head against the floor, "Stop
trying to kill yourself!"

Her only answer was a growl as he continued to struggle. He grabbed her by
her narrow hips and threw her across the room, scrambling to his feet as she
hit the wall with a sickening crack. If she had stopped to think, she might
have noticed the flow of blood coming from her head and dripping a lovely
stream down her body. If she had stopped to think, she might have wondered
why the man she knew loved her had just hurt her. Maybe she had been abused
a little too much with Spike. She already hundreds of bumps, scraps and
bruises on her body from her time with Angel's Grande Child. But she wasn't
thinking of anything but keeping Angel from the light he was so desperately
trying to reach.

The coffee table, long covered with dust from time waiting on Angel's
return, lended itself as a useful weapon. It broke in half over his dark
head and he fell beneath it, unconscious again.


//but as the scenery grows, i see in different lights
the shades and shadows undulate in my perception
my feelings swell and stretch; i see from greater heights
i understand what i am still too proud to mention to you//

It had been the longest day of Spike's unlife and now he waited anxiously
for the last bits of dying day to fade beneath the horizon. He had nearly
burst in flame several times when he got a bit too close to the window in an
attempt to spy his lover coming, which of course, he never did.

Spike wasn't much with the thinking ahead, so as he stomped out of his
crypt, moving at a pace that was akin to hunting his prey, he didn't know
what he was going to do or say to remedy the current disastrous situation.
All he knew was that he couldn't wait one more second without knowing what
was going on. He made short work of the distance between his lair and his
Sire's previous one. He crept through the mansion until he could see Buffy
and Angel.

Spike was more than a little surprised at what he saw. He wasn't really sure
what he was going to see but he didn't think it would be Angel chained to
the wall. His hands and arms were charred as is he had been out romping in
the sunshine and his constant growl did not lend the lovey dovey type mush
that Spike expected. Buffy's blonde hair was matted on one side with blood
and her clothes were spattered with it, as was Angel. The coffee table was
lying in the middle of the floor in two broken pieces and the wooden legs
called to Spike. He wanted to rip one of them free from it's hold on the
splintered table top and force it through the chest of his Sire.

But he was content to wait for awhile since they didn't seem to be anywhere
near close to shagging. Not that they could. Maybe this was better than he
thought. Maybe he hadn't lost her altogether to the Bloody Poof. Maybe she
would come back...

Spike looked on at the exchange between the ex-lovers with the hardening
knowledge that Buffy would not come back to him, even if Angel left again.
He saw the disgrace on her pretty face and the sag she was trying to hide
under her defiant shoulders. She was ashamed of what she had done and more
ashamed that Angel not only knew about it, but had seen it.


//you say love is a hell you cannot bear and i say gimme mine back and then
go there for all i care//

Angel could not stop growling and he didn't want to. If he could, he would
have beaten the bloody apparition of his love until she could haunt him no
longer, even though he was sure she would just reappear and begin her abuse
again. She tried to touch him several times but thanks to his ferocious
snarls, she kept away. The only thing worse than her constant pretending to
be Buffy was that she kept talking to him. That was far worse than just
looking at her.

Finally, he spoke for the first time and the venom of his words, burned like
acid, "Shut the fuck up, bitch/"

She gasped and took an involuntary step back. She whispered, "Angel," with
hurt in her voice. She had never heard him speak that way. Not even after he
had lost his soul. Angel kept his body and soul hardened against her. She
wasn't real. She wasn't Buffy. He wasn't really hurting her. He kept
reminding himself of that one fact but he was weakening more with every

"Stop talking to me," he growled.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Angel," she whispered, sliding against the far wall, "I've
been so...off since I got back from heaven."

Angel wanted to laugh out loud. The demons haunting him knew nothing of
heaven. He certainly knew nothing of heaven, except for the light shining
out of her eyes. That was the closest to heaven he had ever been and he was
beginning to believe it was possible he was heading there now.

*No,* he told himself sternly, *This is not Buffy. They will break you and
your sense of self will slowly disappear.*

He knew that he had to hold on just like he had last time and remember that
the visions they tortured him with were the reason he wanted to live. For
Buffy. He stared at her, his angry golden eyes meeting pure pain in her
green ones and the ice over his heart began to crack. This couldn't really
be Buffy...could it?

"Angel," she said, holding onto his gaze with dear life, even though his
anger and pain was slicing into her, "I...when I got back..." She stared at
the floor trying to make the words make sense when she voiced them, "I've
been empty inside. Leaving heaven was like nothing I had ever felt before.
Worse than losing you."

She hung her head and looked down for a moment trying to gain the strength
to talk to him. She looked back up at him, hurt and chained to the wall, and
was thankful that at least he wasn't trying to attack her and had actually
spoken. That was something, at least.

"The only person I could talk to was Spike. He seemed...he seemed to
understand. No one else did. He was the only person that could make me feel
something. Anything at all."

"I don't want to hear this," Angel said, trying to keep the hardness in his
voice and failing.

"I know," she said, her voice cracking, "I don't want to say it but I have
to. I need you to understand."

"Why should I listen to you? Huh? I don't even know who you are. You're not
Buffy, that's for sure."

//This mind, this body, and this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant
ways so don't forget what i told you, don't come around, i got my own hell
to raise//

"That's really harsh," she said, allowing her tears to flow for the first
time, "Please Angel. If you ever loved me at all...try to listen and
understand. I need you to. Please."

"I don't want to listen," he said, the growl creeping back in his voice,
"Buffy would never fuck Spike...I don't love you."

Buffy stared at him with wide eyes and let the shock of his words sink in
before she began to sob openly. She didn't care about pride or strength. All
that mattered wa that Angel just said he didn't love her. Angel didn't love

But Angel did love her and when she started to sob like that - the way that
only Buffy could, he was suddenly very confused. Even in Hell the illusions
didn't last this long. She was being too kind. None of it made sense. He
watched as she cried and felt his own eyes tearing up. Even if this wasn't
the real Buffy, everything about her was exactly like his mate and her tears
were killing him.

He didn't mean to speak, but the words just kind of fell of out his lips,
"Shhh, baby, don't cry."

She looked up at him, startled and her eyes narrowed in anger, "Don't cry?
Don't fucking cry? You just told me you don't love me and I'm not supposed
to cry? What the hell do you want from me?"

"I want to be free from these chains," he said, taking on her anger, "I want
to get the vision of someone who looks like my mate fucking Spike. I don't
want to be in Hell anymore!"

"Angel, I know I screwed up. I know sleeping with Spike was the wrong thing.
I'm sorry, I really am. I need to make you understand!"

"Buffy," Angel said, shaking his head, "or whoever you are..."

"Who ever you are?! Why are you being so mean to me? I know you're angry
Angel, but I know you have more compassion than this!"

Angel stared at her. Compassion?

He shrank back as she rushed across the room to him. Her hands were warm
against his chest, so warm and her sweet breath was close to his lips as she
spoke. The feeling of her was so real and he was sinking. Hell was winning
and he knew that one more second of this and he would have to relent.

"Please don't touch me," he begged, gripping his chains tightly, "I can't
stand it."

"Am I that repulsive to you?" she asked, drowning him in her tearful green

"You're not Buffy."

"Angel! What's wrong with you? Why do you keep saying that? I'm Buffy. I
know I've changed, but I'm still Buffy!"

"How do I explain to Hell that I'm in Hell?"


"You're a torment from Hell," he said, feeling strange as the words came out
of his mouth, "You look like Buffy, you smell like her and talk like her.
God, you feel like her, but the minute I give in you will disappear. If I
reach out for you, you'll be gone. If I let myself love you, I'll be lost."

"Angel," she said, pulling in closer, "You're not in Hell. You're with me.
Buffy. The real Buffy."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "No."

She pulled the keys to his chains from her pocket, knowing that if he ran,
at least it was night now. She unlocked his chains gently, pausing to wince
over his charred flesh. She slipped the keys back in her pocket and kept her
stance in front of him.

"Touch me," she whispered close to his lips, "I'm real, Angel."

"Before," he whispered back, "with Spike. I saw it when I was in Hell. It
was exactly the same...everything. I have to be..."

"You're not, honey," she said, looking up in his eyes, "You're on the
Hellmouth, but you're not in Hell. Touch me."

"You'll disappear," he said, his voice broken, "and it will..kill...me."

"No," she said. She waited, hovering in front of him. The few inches of air
between her body and his was buzzing with chemical want. Angel clenched his
hands into fists and steeled his strength. He took a step back and found he
was against the wall. With no where else to turn and nothing else to do, he
reached out and touched her.


//and there's too much going on
but it's calm under the waves, in the blue of my oblivion
under the waves in the blue of my oblivion
under the waves in the blue of my oblivion
it's calm under the waves in the blue of my oblivion//

Spike stood watching, knowing that he was just slightly outside of their
peripheral vision. If they turned, they would see him. But he couldn't look
away or move from his spot. He waited for Angel to kiss her and after a
long, full, drawn out minute, he did.

Spike watched with silent awe as his lover melted against Angel, forming
with him. He could plainly see that all of her emotions and love were poured
into the kiss. She had never kissed him like that, never clung to him that
way and he found himself in a backlash of rearing jealousy as he watched. He
was envious of a kiss when Angel couldn't even make love to her. But Spike
knew, as Buffy did, that there was more intimacy in that single kiss that
all of their nights of lovemaking combined. There was more emotion there
than Spike had ever seen and certainly more than he had ever felt while he
was a vampire.

He nearly toppled over when the scent of her arousal reached his sensitive
nostrils. He knew her arousal well and the stages she went through. In
Angel's arms, she skipped all the preliminary levels. Spike was no longer
jealous, he was outraged. How was it possible that just being in his arms
could make her so wet that it made Spike's whole body quiver? He could tell
by the way Angel was kissing her that he knew the response well. Angel knew
what effect he had on her.

Spike backed away from the door, not wanting to see anymore. He kept alive
one tiny light of reassurance as he left her to her eunuch. Angel could not
make love to her. The familiar sense of evil deviousness made Spike smile.
Maybe he would never make love to her again but neither would Angel.


//i've got a lot to lose and i'm betting high
so i'm begging you before it ends just tell me where to begin//

Angel broke the kiss and slipped quickly from the between the wall and
Buffy. He was panting unneeded breath as he stumbled across the room,
needing more distance from her than was ever possible.

"Angel," Buffy said, turning with him as he crossed the room.

"Buffy," Angel said, shaking his head with confusion, "If I'm not in Hell,
then you really were having sex with Spike."

She nodded.

"How could you...I mean, I don't get it."

She shook her head and felt the tears, which had never stopped, increase
their pathway on her face. Angel crossed the room again and pulled her into
his arms.

"I guess I'll never understand," he whispered, absently inspecting the wound
he had caused on the side of her head. It had healed completely and seemed
to be a minor contusion. He whispered his apologies against her hair and
held her more tightly.


//once my lover, now my friend
what a cruel thing to pretend
what a cunning way to condescend
once my lover, and now my friend//

Buffy watched Angel's car leave Sunnydale at 3 AM and walked slowly to a
house that no longer felt like home. Trying to cope with all that had
happened since his arrival was mind boggling at best. There was no way to
wrap these feelings up and shove them in the closet again this time. After
those kisses and a night of soul baring solutionless conversation and more
kisses, Angel left.

She tried not to concentrate on the feeling of him leaving and the emptiness
returning. She tried not to focus on the future that she was very unsure
about. She was trying not to focus on anything at all, which is why she
nearly collided with a very tense bleach blonde vampire.

"So I see the bloody Poof left you again," he said, "and a little worse for
the wear, pet." He gestured at her bloody hair and torn clothes for
emphasis, but they both knew that was not what he meant.

"What do you want Spike?" she asked tiredly, suddenly exhausted.

"So we're back to that, are we, love?"

"First of all, I told you not to call me that and Second, yes. We are. It's
over," she said, more harshly than she intended. She turned and began to
walk away, holding on to the strength Angel had given her. She had to end it
now before the strength was entirely gone. Spike pulled her back, spinning
her around to face him.

//you wanna make me sick; you wanna lick my wounds//

"So that's it?" He asked, "That's all I get? Peaches strolls into town and
messes everything up and leaves again and now I'm out of the picture? He
left and I'm all you have left. If you leave me now, what will you have?"

"Dignity," she said, staring back at him coldly. She yanked on her arm,
pulling it from Spike's grasp and turned around again and walked away.


//i'm building memories on things we have not said
full is not heavy as empty, not nearly my love, not nearly my love, not

Every mile that took Angel from Sunnydale made him wonder more why he was
leaving. Guilt and love were the two strongest emotions battling for the
brood. He should have swept her into his arms again and never let her go. He
should have told her that his soul was anchored. He should have never left.

He wasn't sure what made him walk away again except that he was hurt. He was
destroyed by the sight of her having sex with Spike. The vision in his mind
was almost more than he could handle. He tried to make himself remember the
normal life excuse, but the fact of the matter was if she wanted a normal
life, if she really could have one, she wouldn't be sleeping with Spike.

Being in her arms again was more perfect than he even remembered. Those
feelings running through him again were more surreal and aching than he
thought possible after all this time. He had allowed himself to forget what
being loved felt like. It was easier to go on with his life if he didn't
live with that every day.

It was not easy, however, to drive away, which is why he turned around and
went back.


//darling, give me your absence tonight
take the shade from the canvas and leave me the white
let me sink in the silence that echoes inside
and don't bother leaving the light on//

Buffy stepped into the shower with a heavy heart. And it hurt. A lot.

And she was thankful for it.

It was blissful affliction. Angel left again. She broke up with Spike. But
she felt almost alive. She like she was half a step away from being someone
who could function again. She was a couple of inches from being at least
part of a whole. She washed blood and Angel and Spike from her body. She
washed death from her skin.

When stepped out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom, she took a deep
breath. She decided, as she slipped into her robe, feeling the aches, cuts
and bruises on her skin smart with her movements, that she would start over.
Starting now, she would live again.

The house was quiet and everyone was asleep. She wondered if anyone even had
worried about where she had been. She decided they probably hadn't. She
hadn't been around much and besides Dawn's snappy comments and her friends'
occasional hints, they all seemed content to carry on with their lives
without her.

Strange thing was, she wasn't sure how she felt about that. She knew the
Scooby core would never be what it was. She ached for that relationship, for
that team. She missed Giles. She brushed her hair out as she walked down the
hall and thought about what time it was in London. Maybe she would call. She
was in the middle of configuring the time zone change when she walked
through her door and found Angel leaning against her windowsill.

//he rose, brilliant as the moon in full
and sank in the burrows of my keep//

"Angel," she whispered, "I thought you left."

"I did," he said, with a fire smouldering in his eyes, "But there's a few
things I didn't say and I decided that I want to say them."

"Okay," she said, nodding. She wanted to be wondering what he was going to
say but she was trapped in his stare. He was beautiful, leaning against that
window again, in his casual-not-so-casual way and it made her nervous. It
made her remember. Mostly, it made her want him, as if she hadn't spent
every second wanting him before.

//all my armour falling down, in a pile at my feet
and my winter giving way to warm//

Angel willed himself to begin speaking but he couldn't take his eyes off of
her body. It wasn't her robe, which was blue terrycloth and covered most of
her delectable flesh. It was that there was only a loosely tied sash between
her robe and her naked body and he gripped the windowsill as he always did
to keep from touching her.

Memories came flying back as he remembered all of the times he climbed
through her window, to talk to her, to wake her up or watch her sleep and he
always found himself holding onto the windowsill, as if it was the only
thing keep his soul from leaving his body. He was actually surprised he had
never ripped it off the wall before now.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm angry with you," he said, in a low, soft
voice that rubbed smooth lines of love over her skin, "I'm angry that you
would turn to Spike instead of anyone else on the planet. I understand why
you didn't come to me but I'm pissed that you went to Spike, that you gave
that unworthy bastard such a precious part of yourself. I'm upset that you
are working at a burger joint -"

"I need money," she said, interrupting him, "I have to take care of Dawn."

"Buffy, why do you always underestimate yourself? You are smart and
resourceful. You could do anything!"

"It was a short interviewing process and -"

"Bullshit," he spat, "that's bullshit and you know it. You thought you
weren't good enough to get anything else so you didn't try. That's the same
reason you were with Spike."

She didn't say anything to agree or disagree. She didn't need to. She waited
for him to finish his tirade.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry that you didn't want to come to me, that
you felt you couldn't. I'm sorry I left - both last time and this time."

He crossed the room and stood close to her, making sure she heard every
syllable of what he was about to say, "I love you, Buffy. My life is
darkness. You know that. But more than anything I want you back in it."

"Me too," she whispered, her lower lip trembling the way it did when she was
trying not to cry. Angel pulled that adorable lip between his own before
delving into her warm mouth. Angel swiped the belt of her robe and slipped
his hands inside and around, pulling her naked body to his fully clothed
one. He ran his hands over her back and felt the injuries over her skin.
Pulling away, he looked over her.

"What is all this?" He asked, inspecting her naked skin now as a doctor
would instead of a lover. She stared at him, not wanting to let Spike's name
come into the moment. He nodded silently, buckling his anger down inside
himself. His childe was going to pay for every bruise, bump and tiny little
cut on his beloved's body.

//he goes along just as a water lily
gentle on the surface of his thoughts his body floats unweighed down by
passion or intensity yet unaware of he depth upon which he coasts and he
finds a home in me for what misfortune sows, he knows my touch will reap//

He mapped out her injuries, giving each one his undivided attention and his
gentle kiss. Slipping the robe from her shoulders, he skimmed lightly along
her body, worshiping her the way that Spike could not. Buffy rolled with the
feelings of his lips and hands on her skin, standing before him, running her
fingers through his hair, touching him when she could. His touch had been
gentle and he strayed from erogenous zones, focusing on the parts of her
that were hurt but when he finished his journey, he moved on. Kneeling
before her, he kissed her stomach and hips, while he slipped his hand
between her legs to touch the wetness he knew was there.

"Soul," she murmured, in a statement of fact.

"Not an issue," he whispered against her belly button.

"How?" She asked as he circled her clit, causing a little moan to escape
from her lips.

"Later, love," he whispered, dipping in to taste the honey he missed for
more days and months that he cared to recall. She silently agreed as he
sucked her clit in and out of his mouth, swirling his tongue around her.
Mere moments were necessary before she exploded. Her legs were trembling and
made of rubber. She grabbed hold of the wall for support as Angel, stood and
took her lips in his again. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her
far enough off the floor so that he could walk to the bed and keep her lips
on his.

He laid down on the bed, taking her down under him as he went, feeling
unbearable waves of lust and love shoot through his body. Buffy yanked his
coat off of his shoulders, causing the arm to rip slightly as she shucked it
to the floor. Together, they tore the rest of his clothes from his body and
he sheathed himself fully inside her, closing his eyes as he arrived home

"I love you, Buffy," he said hoarsely as he moved inside her with urgency.

"I love you, Angel," she said back, sliding her hands over his silky, pale
skin, re-memorizing each plane of him. He laved her nipples, sucking them
roughly between his smooth lips as he thrust inside his love. She wrapped
her legs around his waist and moved in time with his strokes.

They reached orgasm together. Completely whole, both lost souls had begun
their journey home. Angel rolled, pulling Buffy to lay directly on top of
him and he glanced over at the door, which was slightly ajar. Reaching on
either side of him, he pulled the comforter over them like a taco, covering
their flushed, bare skin.

"I want you to come home with me," Angel said, kissing her sweaty forehead.

"To LA? Dawn has school and there's the house and..."

"We can work it all out," he said, in his sexy bed voice that always made
her believe that anything in world was possible.

//he's all i ever knew of love//



Courtesy of Heather

While Angel was in hell, he was tortured by among other things visions of
Buffy and Spike having sex. When he hears that Buffy and Spike have had sex,
it triggers extreme flashbacks of his time in hell, completely driving him
insane. He becomes convinced that he never left. I think the entire Connor
and C/A storylines should be left out. It would just complicate the story
too much.