Hollow

Author: Dark Star Email: eternity_ds@hotmail.com Website: Scribes of Angel Summary: Sex and death and love and pain - it's all the same damn thing to you. (Buffy Conversations With Dead People.) Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is creator and owner of all things Angel and Buffy Timeline: Some future date, when Buffy and Angel finally decide to stay together. Rating: R/NC 17 . Pairing: B/A Category: Dark. Distribution: Just ask, please Notes: It has been established that vampires have dark and sadistic natures. While Angel might fight against his nature, he is still a vampire, and I think that any long-term relationship would have to address this. ******** Buffy shivered while she waited for Angel to unlock the door to the room. It was just an ordinary room, one of the more remote areas of the Hyperion, but she hated that room. Angel had to keep the place clean and tidy, because Buffy refused to venture inside unless she had no other choice. She heard the soft click of the key, saw Angel hesitate before he turned back to her. His expression when he faced her was unreadable, closed off and unyielding. You dont have to do this, he said quietly. Relief flooded her, as she understood that he was giving her a way out. But they both knew that she wouldnt take it. You know that I do. Angel swallowed. Buffy Dont. She said carefully. Its just for one night, Angel. I can do that. Her voice trembled slightly when she remembered exactly what she was agreeing to. Just one night. The dark eyes met hers, searching for assurance in her anxious gaze; she closed her eyes briefly, before saying strongly, Lets get it over with. Angel straightened and stepped back from her, allowing her to pass by and enter the room first.

Buffy walked into the room, standing quietly in the centre to wait for Angel. Fear made little goose bumps appear on her arms and she tried to shut down her over-active imagination and just wait for what would happen next. She heard Angel come in behind her and close the door firmly. Her skin prickled at the sound, and her heart rate speeded up in dread anticipation. She finally turned to look at him, but there was no comfort to be found there in the face of the man she loved. He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression controlled and hard. Buffy took a deep breath. This was always hard for her to adjust to when her Angel disappeared and he allowed the baser instincts of the demon to come forth. They faced each other in tense silence, Buffy waiting to see if Angel would speak first. He stood completely still, his arms still folded and his dark eyes hooded as he observed her. Buffy shivered; she knew what he was waiting for, and she knew that she couldnt put the moment off any longer. Slowly, nervously, her trembling fingers went to the buttons of her blouse as she carefully unfastened each one before moving on to the next. When the blouse hung limply from her shoulders, she slid it down her arms and dropped it to the floor. The clasp of her bra came next, and she peeled off the enticing scrap of fabric and dropped it carelessly on top of her silk blouse. Buffy was deliberately taking as long as possible to get undressed, attempting to postpone the inevitable for as long as she could. Another time, she might have felt sexy taking her clothes off in front of her man, but this night wasnt about sex, and she doubted that Angel would even fuck her tonight. This was about pain, and blood, and this night was Angels. By now, she had removed her shoes and was in the process of wriggling out of her tight jeans, trying not to look at Angel because his silent assessment of her was unnerving to say the least. Finally, she reached her tiny white lace panties, and pulled off the skimpy garment to drop them on top of the pile of abandoned clothing. She straightened up, feeling exposed and vulnerable; her emotions were all knotted and tangled, and she wasnt certain what she felt. Fear, certainly. Anticipation and excitement, too. The fluttering in her stomach made her feel queasy with nerves, and when Angel slowly approached her naked form, her heart rate broke into a gallop. An irrational wave of anger swept through her when she realised Angel could tell how she was feeling could smell her fear and arousal and her skin burned when he took her hand gently in his own.

She forced herself to look up at him, the brown eyes so sad that she had to fight the urge to run and hide. They held eye contact for a long time, Angels asking the silent question, Are you sure? She broke eye contact and looked down. Angels hand squeezed hers and he led her over to the imposing four-poster bed that dominated the room. Walking round to the end of the bed, he positioned Buffy between the two posts before turning her to face it and raising her arms to place them against the polished wood. Rings and chains had been fastened on the solid frame, and Angel selected the ones he wanted and chained Buffys wrists securely against the bedposts. Angel let his fingers trail across her soft and inviting skin, his fingers barely touching the curve of her hip before moving back, and Buffy guessed that he was watching her. Why did he do that? Did he know that it worried her? Was he just enjoying the view or trying to decide what to do next? Finally he moved away, going to the large chest in the corner of the room. Buffys breath caught as he went toward it, suddenly afraid because she knew that he kept his toys in there. Her stomach lurched and she pushed aside the urge to vomit. The things in that chest had caused her so much pain that she dreaded him going anywhere near it. She couldnt even look at it without trepidation, and when he began pulling things out she looked away, not wanting to know what was in store for her. While Angel sorted through the items in the chest, Buffy pulled gently on the chains to see if they were fixed securely. They were, of course. Angel knew his craft, and Buffy wondered how many people played with bondage and chains the way that they did. But she knew that it wasnt - couldnt - be the same. For them, it wasnt a game. Having selected several things from the chest, Angel stood up and returned to the bed, and placed them down on the sheet, his body deliberately blocking them from Buffys view. Buffy really did not want to know, but a kind of morbid fascination made her look. She watched with an oddly dispassionate air as Angel brought each item into her line of vision and painstakingly laid each one neatly out on the bed, in readiness for use later on. First, there were two leather whips one with a single leather strand, and one with thin leather strips that Buffy knew stung like a bitch. Next, Angel placed down a small ivory knife that had a very narrow - and very sharp blade, and Buffy remembered the intimate touch of that very clearly indeed. A long chain with tiny links went down next, and as Angel brought the final item - a soft leather roll, into her a view - Buffys blood turned to ice. She tensed as a chill crawled up her spine and travelled down her limbs, spreading goose bumps all over her body.

As if he could sense it, Angel looked up and stared directly at her. Fear. Buffy squirmed. Somehow, knowing that he could sense her alarm was worse than standing before him naked and exposed, and she flushed with shame. He stood up and came over to her, his expression gentle as he threaded his hand in her hair and leant down to kiss her. The kiss was controlled and deep, but held none of Angel's normal passion. They both knew it was a gesture, a tiny straw to help her through her ordeal. Finally the kiss ended, and with some regret Angel pulled away and stepped back. Her eyes were wide with apprehension but calm, and he returned to the bed to finish his task. With the same meticulous care that he had used on the other items, Angel unhurriedly unrolled the leather parcel that contained his most vicious tools. Each metallic implement was cocooned in its own little pouch, and Buffy tried to turn her head away from the sight but found herself perversely captivated. Her stomach churned; the vile things Angel could do with that kit were indelibly printed on her memory and made her skin crawl. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Calm. She told herself. Keep calm. She closed her eyes and concentrated on slowing down her breathing. Angel would not use the nastier equipment to start with; he always started lightly and at first the pain would be bearable - but at some time during the night he would cross over into real pain. Angel was damn good at it too, and he could keep her simmering for hours at any level of pain that he chose to. It was a sobering thought to her that he was, quite probably, going easy on her. Buffy had managed to calm her laboured breathing and opened her eyes to see Angel watching her intently. But she couldnt help herself and her gaze drifted back to the objects spread out on the bed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Angel moving, and she turned her attention back to him. In an attentive slow motion, she watched Angel unbuckle the belt of his jeans, drawing the soft leather back through the loops and pulling it away from his body. Without taking his eyes from her, he then folded the belt in half, holding the buckle in the palm of his hand and silently went to stand behind her. Buffy took another calming breath and tried to prepare herself for what would soon follow. And so, it begins again ******************

From his vantage point in the armchair, Angel watched the sleeping occupant of his bed. She looked peaceful now, but he couldnt help remembering what had transpired just a short time ago. Would she hate him when she woke up? He had the same fear every time he put her through this. Would she still love him? Would she call him a perverted monster, and send him away? And she would be right, he was a monster, and he didnt really understand why she let him do those appalling things to her. A vampire woman would expect a relationship with pain, with violence and brutal sex. Buffy was not a vampire, her body was softer, and warmer, and it was much more receptive to his touch than that of the undead. If he was brutally honest about it, it was that very humanness that made torturing her so damn satisfying. It awed him that she had such total trust in him to endure the unbelievable pain that he would not hurt her in any other way; it was the reason he didnt usually have sex with her - he couldnt take that from her as well. She sighed in her sleep, and the cover slipped back from her shoulder to reveal all the black and purple bruises that he had inflicted on her the night before. He tried not to, but he was mesmerized by the pattern made by the red wheals marring her skin, and heard again her screams and cries of distress. He closed his eyes, but the images just got stronger and he remembered the gorgeous curve of her back as she arched away from him, and the violent twisting of her body as she tried to escape the pain. His human side recoiled in disgust, but the demon welcomed each picture, embracing every remembered torment with erotic pleasure and his body responded accordingly. Buffy sighed again, and Angels gaze returned to her face to watch her wake up. Her eyelids fluttered, and when she opened them she blinked to orientate herself and then they locked on him. Angel waited for her reaction to him. Waited for her anger and hatred; instead, the soft smile took his breath away, and he smiled guiltily back. Buffy frowned, wriggling her hand from under the covers to stretch silently toward him. She couldnt quite hide the wince of pain that the movement cost her, and Angel cringed with the thought that he had caused it. He stood up and stepped toward her to take her outstretched hand. He knew she wanted him to join her, but he was afraid that his embrace would cause her even more pain and he hesitated. Angel, she murmured, and he climbed on top of the covers and carefully took her in his arms. He brushed her hair back from her face, remorse in every tender move he made. Buffy he began, but she put her fingers against his lips to stop him and shook her head gently.

Im he tried again, but Buffy stopped him again. Weve been through this, Angel, she smiled tiredly at him. Its all right. It isnt, he whispered. Nothing about this is right, Buffy. Sssh. She drew his head down to her shoulder and waited for him to settle cautiously against her, using great care to make sure he didnt hurt her any further. Her arms wrapped tightly round him and hugged him close to show that he was forgiven. He would not yet be able to forgive himself, and today he would deny her nothing; later, when she felt stronger, he would make love to her for hours, a desperate attempt to erase her memory of the previous night, and show her how much her sacrifice had meant to him. Until it begins again End. Note: This story now has a sequel which can be found here: It Begins Again

It Begins Again
Author: Dark Star Email: eternity_ds@hotmail.com Website: www.roses.darkstarfic.com Summary: How had they reached this point? Sequel to Hollow. Disclaimer: Joss Whedon is creator and owner of all things Angel and Buffy Rating: Adult - NC 17 Warning: This story deals with sadism and BDSM Notes: This is the sequel to Hollow, and its best if you read that first. More notes: Dlgood, SJ Smith, Leni and Jo asked about the events that led up to Hollow. So this, guys, is for you Pairing: B/A Category: Dark , future Distribution: Just ask, please **

How had they reached this point? Buffy pulled herself upright, using the heavy chains to support herself. Her shoulders ached, her muscles locked tight from standing still so long. She flexed her fingers to get the feeling back in them, pins and needles stinging her hands in response to the stiff movement. She knew that Angel was seated behind her although she couldnt see him. It pleased him to watch her and admire his handiwork. Buffy found it unnerving, because it gave her far too much time to anticipate his next move; during those breaks her body tried to heal

itself, and Buffy reflected that slayer healing was not a bonus if it meant prolonged periods of misery. The chains rattled as Buffy tried to shrug her shoulders to clear the tension in them, but the action caused searing pain up her arms and she bit her lip to remain silent. She was bored with staring at the wall; she knew she needed to distract herself from her morbid musings or it was going to be a very long night, and her thoughts returned to how it all started. Once upon a time there was a vampire she thought wildly to herself, and resisted the urge to giggle hysterically. She was often stunned by the odd direction her subconscious would take when trying to deal with Angels torments. The vampire met a beautiful slayer and they lived happily ever after. Buffy winced; that was how it should have been, but Angel had told her once that this Wasnt some fairytale. And he was right, it wasnt. Because this pain, blood and misery - was the harsh reality of living with a vampire. Everything had been great at first; they had been so happy to finally be together again, and for good this time. They had their ups and downs, like most couples, but then Angel started to act a little oddly. It wasnt anything specific at first; he was just a bit more cranky than usual. He brooded more often, became more aggressive during sex, more vicious when they went slaying. Sometimes she actually felt sorry for the slayee having his rage vent on them. She knew something was wrong, although he refused to talk about it. But she knew suppressed emotion when she saw it, and she tried to figure out how to help him. Angels sour mood grew. He became snappy with his crew, irritable with her, and it seemed as though he went out of his way to upset everybody around him. One day she returned early from a shopping trip, and as she crossed the lobby she heard a terrible squealing noise coming from the basement. Fearing that some evil creature had accessed the building, she abandoned her purchases on the counter, and headed downstairs. Halfway down the stairs the noise stopped abruptly, and she saw Angel standing in the gloom, the limp body of a rat in his hand. Angel? she frowned. Whats going on? Rats. Her gaze travelled from his blank expression to his hand, and he went smoothly to the trapdoor that led to the sewer and dropped the body into it. Its just a rat, he said again, going past her and up the stairs.

Buffy stayed motionless on the stairs. Just a rat didnt explain the horrible squealing that shed heard or the guilty expression shed glimpsed on Angels face. Maybe hed been feeding, and was embarrassed about doing that? She turned and went slowly back up the stairs, replaying the scene that shed just witnessed. That had to be it, she decided. He was embarrassed. And she tried to ignore the blood shed seen on the little creatures body and the unnatural angle of its limbs. The ache in her shoulders brought her painfully back again to the present, and Buffy moved her feet in an effort to make her stance less of a strain on her upper body. Her whole body felt stiff and sore, and the blood that had trickled down her legs and dried there made her feel sticky and dirty. She jumped when a cool hand touched her lower back; she had been so deep in thought that she hadnt heard Angel move. His hands went round to her front to grasp at her breasts. She tensed, fearing that he would twist hard on her nipples, but that wasnt what he had in mind. Instead, he groped and squeezed at her sore breasts and lightly caressed her stomach. He ran his hands up her arms until his fingers passed over her manacled wrists and he gripped her hands with his own. He pushed his body tightly up against hers, forcing her tender skin hard against the wall. She whimpered at the undignified assault on her abused body, and tried to disregard Angels hips thrusting energetically up against her damaged rear. Although she could feel his erection straining at her, she knew he wouldnt use it. He no longer included sex as part of the session. She remembered, before they got into this, how violent Angel could get during sex. It wasnt just the rough handling - she could cope with that. Hell, there were times when she instigated it. There was something very erotic about being taken hard, thrown against the wall and screwed frantically against the solid surface. It was more than that. It was the feeling that he was doing it deliberately to hurt her, and every so often shed respond with anger and he would back off for a while. It seemed to run in a cycle with Angel getting more and more brutal until she called him on it, and things settled down again. Things might have jogged along like that for ever if they hadnt found the nest. A tip-off sent them to an abandoned building in downtown LA, and Buffy and Angel quickly took care of the stray vampires in the lounge before heading upstairs. The noise was appalling; and Buffy was horrified by the sight that greeted them in the huge bedroom. Vampires sprawled everywhere, and the savage coupling that was taking place all around her made her want to heave. To cover her embarrassment, she turned to Angel, intending to make a quip about rutting time at the zoo but saw the expression on Angels face and the words died in her mouth. Following his line of vision, she saw that he was looking at a shrieking, naked woman spread-eagled face down on the bed, her limbs tied securely to the four corners. The whole area between her shoulders and her knees was torn and bleeding; the male vampire beside her was viciously laying into her with gusto, and Buffy winced as she saw the lashes of his whip bite deep in her pale flesh.

She turned questioningly back to Angel, but his expression was carefully neutral. Before she could say anything, he stepped forward, his stake in hand and went to work. Buffy joined him in the slayage until finally, they were the only beings left standing amongst the thick dust in the room. Nothing was said about the nest, and Buffy tried to forget what she had seen. But that night, as she waited for sleep to come her subconscious dredged up the events and continually replayed them in her head. Not for the first time, she wondered if it bothered Angel to kill his own people. Did it sadden him to do it? When she had first seen the bound woman, she assumed that Angel knew her; perhaps she was an old flame of his. She didnt think so, because he hadnt hesitated at dusting her, so she didnt think it was personal. The whole scene sickened her because it had been so incredibly gross; the enthusiastic violence, the eager feeding, the whips and other implements shed seen laying around had really shocked her. But the image that haunted her the most was the wistful longing that shed glimpsed on Angels face. The next day, Angel was irritable and moody. When she could stand the tension no longer she snapped, What the hells wrong with you? Wrong? he repeated, and Buffy didnt like the leer he gave her. Nothings wrong with me, Buffy. He turned and strode away without another word, and furious, Buffy watched him go. This couldnt go on, she decided, and when she left the hotel and walked into the sunshine a few minutes later, she had a mission in mind. That evening, after yet another run-in with Angel, Buffy silently handed him a brown paper bag. Intrigued, Angel took the bag and pulled out the object inside it. Whats this? Well duh Its a whip, Angel. She replied dryly. I I know that, he stumbled, staring her curiously. But why have I got it? Because I want you to use it, she said boldly, and Angels eyes widened. You know you want to. She knew shed said the wrong thing the moment the words were out of her mouth. Angels expression closed right down, and he abruptly dropped the whip back in the bag. No. He replied firmly. They faced each other without moving, and Buffy didnt know what to do next. She didnt want to back down, and she mentally checked through her options. Aware that Angel was a creature driven by his instincts probably more than most people realised

she suddenly peeled off her tight sweater and dropped it on the floor. She hadnt worn a bra because she hadnt wanted to leave any distracting marks on her skin, and she slowly turned round and offered her bare back to Angel. Do it. Feeling incredibly self-conscious, Buffy waited to see whether Angel was going to take the bait. Long moments crawled by, and Buffy was just beginning to wonder how she could retrieve her sweater and beat a dignified retreat, when Angel said gruffly, Not like this. Yess. Carefully composing her features so that she gave nothing away, she turned unhurriedly back to him. How, then? she asked gently, afraid that by speaking too loudly he might back off from her. Angel Ill do anything that you want. Angel cleared his throat, his expression an odd mixture of desire and alarm. Come with me, he said lightly. He took her hand and led her into the bedroom. When they reached the room, Angel paused and looked around, as though he was searching for something. Then he escorted her over to the side of the bed and asked her to bend over it and use her arms to brace herself. Excited and a little afraid, Buffy did as Angel asked and waited to see what he would do next. He moved up behind her, and she felt his hands fumbling with the button of her jeans, before peeling them back and sliding them and her underwear - smoothly down her legs. Buffy moved to stand up so that she could help him, but the palm of his hand came down hard on her rump and made her yelp at the unexpected pain. Stay down, he ordered, in a tone of voice he had never used with her before. Startled, Buffy hurriedly returned to her position and wondered what on earth she had gotten herself into. When she was naked, Angel returned to stand behind her and gently smoothed his hands all over her soft curves. Buffy wanted to stand up, but she didnt dare to. Since she had told him that she would do anything that he wanted, she thought she had better obey him. She was beginning to question if that had been such a good idea after all. Beautiful, Angel breathed, his hands becoming still as he leaned forward, and asked, Are you ready, Buffy? Yes. Her reply was firm and strong, and she was immensely proud of herself for managing to do that. She heard Angel rustling with the bag and pull the whip out.

Oh god Its a good one, Angel said approvingly. He dangled the whip over her shoulder and let the leather strands trail down over her breast. You chose well. Buffy gulped, and shuddered with excitement when the strands touched her bare shoulder; she was absurdly pleased that Angel accepted her choice of whip. She hadnt had the faintest idea which one to buy, and had chosen at random from the vast range of them in the store. The strands tickled her breast as the whip was removed from her shoulder, and Angel stepped back. In a businesslike voice, he warned, Brace yourself. Buffy braced. She tensed up everything that she could possibly tense, and waited fearfully. The first sting of the whip made her gasp, but she was relieved that it hadnt been as painful as she had expected. Perhaps Angel was just trying it out? The second and third lashes created a similar effect, and by the fourth, Buffy was beginning to relax into the pain. This isnt so bad, she thought with relief. I can do this. She had been afraid that she would shame herself by not being able to take it, and she was thankful that it hadnt been as bad as she thought. She stayed bent over for a long time. Angel developed a smooth rhythm with his whip, concentrating mainly on her upper back and shoulders. Buffy tried to be brave, doing her best to stay quiet and flinching as little as possible. It was easy at first, but after a while her skin grew hot and sore from the constant stinging, and she began to dread the next strike. She tried not to make any noise but in the end she couldnt help it, and gave in to the instinct to squeal with each stroke of the lash. The whipping seemed to go on forever, and when it was over, Buffy felt exhausted, her throat was dry, and her body was shaking from the rush of adrenaline. But Angel wasnt done. Up on the bed, he instructed bluntly, and he helped her position herself shakily on her hands and knees, while he took her roughly from behind. Buffy came almost as soon as he entered her because she was so worked up, and when the session was over, they discussed the things that they had just done. When Angel tentatively asked if she would ever do it again, Buffy surprised herself by admitting that she found the pain a powerful aphrodisiac and had gotten something incredibly erotic from the session. By mutual agreement, flogging became a regular and strangely enjoyable - feature of their lives. Angel channelled his darker instincts into the sessions, and the improvement in his behaviour at other times made her feel that the whole thing was worth bearing. Angel took things very slowly, gradually increasing the pain that he gave her and introducing new things to keep it interesting. Buffys pain

threshold already high increased in line with Angels careful training, and she found that over time, her body learnt to take more and more punishment. She became blas with the whole pain thing, and she laughed the first time Angel had told her that he was going to cane her. Was that meant to worry her? British schoolboys got the cane what fear did that have for a slayer? Shed glibly told Angel that It couldnt be that bad - and his simple reply chilled her. It is the way I do it. She didnt laugh any more; Angel had taught her that lesson. The cane could be a very painful, vicious implement, leaving her bruised skin in a weeping bloody mess, and her respect for British schoolboys went up dramatically. But still Angel kept pushing her boundaries, kept introducing new things to use. The first time he had included outright torture in a session had been a nasty shock, and not a development that Buffy approved of. It worried her that Angel might have been holding back before then. Did he think she was too weak to cope with it? She decided then that she would take whatever Angel wanted to do to her. She could handle a little pain anyway, couldnt she? Werent slayers tougher than normal people? The torture element increased as Buffy learnt to handle the pain and it became a much bigger part of the sessions. Angel also introduced bloodplay as a regular event; although he never opened a vein, he liked to beat her until she bled, or cut her and drink from the wound. The bloodplay replaced sex, and Angel stopped fucking her although he still enjoyed bringing her to a screaming orgasm. After several sessions where the real pain began after shed come, it dawned on Buffy that it was a kind of trigger, and to postpone the agony she started holding back. She knew that it was futile; that it was a battle she couldnt possibly win. But it was her way of trying to take back a little control of her body, because she hated that Angel could make her do anything that he wanted her to. She had a nasty suspicion that Angel was playing with her in all senses of the word and that he could bring her off whenever he wanted. Nor could she shake the feeling that Angel was indulging her, and it made her more determined to hold out. On one occasion she managed to last for four hours before he sent her shrieking into the abyss, and with the release came tears that she couldnt stop. The tears came in great heaving sobs, and she let them come; giving in to her anger, resentment and frustration that things had worked out the way they had. When she had calmed, she was aware that Angel still knelt between her legs, his hands on her hips and he was watching her closely. He hadnt moved at all, and his face was still damp from being buried between her legs; the lethal combination of his experienced tongue on her clit and the fingers of both hands probing at her sensitive tissues had been enough to finish her.

Angel waited patiently for her recover her composure. She did this sometimes, and he lost her to her emotions or the overwhelming pain. He always waited for her to come back to him before he did anything else - he liked to make sure that she was completely aware of everything he did to her. The chains on her wrists prevented Buffy from wiping her eyes or her nose, and she knew she looked pitiful, but she was too exhausted to care. She had no dignity here; Angel had put her though so much, seen her through her all her worst moments that it no longer mattered what she looked like. Angel had seen it all, every last degrading thing, and he didnt care either. She didnt want to look at him, but he waited her out, and in the end, she had no choice but to meet his unfathomable gaze. He hardly ever spoke to her during a session, usually only a command or some words of encouragement, and now he uttered just two words. Im impressed. Buffy snorted. Fuck you. Angel stood up, and Buffy groaned inwardly. She really, really, didnt want Angel to hurt her anymore tonight, and her body still ached from the assorted whips and floggers hed already used. Reaching for a cloth, he tenderly wiped her eyes and nose, his face expressionless as he generally tidied her up. And then, unexpectedly, he unchained her and caught her when she slumped forward. He took her in his arms and carried her to the door. The session was over, finished early, though Buffy never really understood why Angel hadnt ever used sex in a session since. Behind her, Angel was reaching up to unfasten the chains on her wrists. Her elation turned to dismay when he turned her to face him, and skilfully rechained her to the wall. She moved stiffly, and she was so tired that she just wanted to lean against the wall and rest. But her back had been so lacerated that it would be a very bad idea to do so until she had at least begun to heal. Before Angel finished with her tonight, she knew she would need the walls support, but she could forgo it for now. Angels knee was pushing persistently at her legs, prising them apart. She complied as best she could, her sore joints protesting at the extra strain on them. She watched him kneel down, his hands travelling down her body with him, until they encircled her ankles. She knew what was coming next, as Angel spread her legs even further apart and secured them with a metal bar. She didnt like the bar very much; it made her legs ache, and stretched the muscles in her thighs. It was an undignified way to stand, affected her balance and made the strain on her shoulders even more acute, when she was chained like this. But it was why he was using the bar that bothered her; whatever he was going to do was something she wasnt going to like, and the bar was insurance that she couldnt close her legs against it. Angel looked up from his kneeling position, and Buffys heart sunk. She preferred it when he worked behind her and she wished sometimes that he would use a blindfold so that she could pretend that it wasnt really him causing her such suffering. But Angel enjoyed watching the emotions that played out in her eyes far too much, and he never used them. It was hard not to take his actions personally, and it upset her to see how

much pleasure he gained from hurting her. Once, the sadistic smirk shed glimpsed on his face had reminded her so much of Angelus, that it was almost more than she could take. Angel stood up, and stepped back. He was looking down at her legs, deep in thought, and turned away to cross the room and headed over to the chest. Buffy looked away, and concentrated on shifting her position to make herself more comfortable focussing on other things so that she didnt have to think about what he was going to do to her. At any other time, in any other place, Angel would protect and cherish her with everything that he had. The rules in this place were different, though Buffy knew that she could call a halt to the proceedings at any time she wanted to. Angel would stop immediately, no hard feelings and no recriminations. So why had she never asked him to stop? Why, even though he could make her scream in agony, beg him to back off or curse him with every fibre of her being had she never said no? It was a question Buffy had asked herself hundreds of times, and there was no easy answer. All she knew was that Angel needed to do this, and she needed him; every last sadistic, beautiful, brave and loving inch of him. All of him. Because when it came down to it, being without him hurt much more acutely that any physical pain ever could, and this was her way of making sure forever worked for them. After all, wasnt that the whole point? End.