Common Enemy


This little spew is based on three gigantic impossible Ifs: What if Faith had succeeded in turning Angel back into Angelus? What if Giles had been betrayed by the Ninja-demon who was supposed to fake the spell on Angel? What if the scooby gang hadn't busted in? How would the mansion scene in the episode, Enemies have gone down?

Timeline: Right after Faith's rant in the mansion, near the end of the episode, Enemies.

So, here's my spew......(I guess I miss Angelus sometimes....)

"I never knew you had so much rage in you," said Buffy.

"What can I say," Faith smiled over her shoulder at Angelus, "I'm the world's best actor,"

"Second best," said Angel.

Faith turned, her face falling. "You played me! You played me!"

Angel giggled. Or rather, Angelus giggled. Buffy's heart went cold. She quickly looked at the cuffs on her wrists. He really had locked them.

"Actually," he said, sauntering past Faith and standing before Buffy, grinning, "I played both of you," he leaned toward Buffy, his eyes glinting into hers. "Pretty slick, huh, Buff?"

"Faith," said Buffy, in alarm.

Faith was frozen with confusion. "I don't know what you thought was going to happen," she said, vying for control, "But it's my party, now,"

"Wrong," said Angelus; he seized Faith by her hair and swung her into the wall. She was stunned by the blow and hesitated long enough for him to pick up an iron poker by the fireplace and deliver a blow to her temple that would have killed a non-Slayer. Faith folded onto the floor. Angelus kicked her viciously in the chest, then reached behind a chair and pulled out a roll of duct tape; he bound her arms together with two layers of tape, then thrust her into the chair and bound her to it. She groaned, tossing her head, trying to shake the blackness. Angelus dusted his hands off and grinned at Buffy. "Not the Mayor's party, not a Slayer's party, just mine,"

"So, who are you planning on killing first?" said Buffy.

"You mean, right now? Nobody, yet. I have an agenda," Angelus jerked the chains that were fastened to the cuffs on Buffy's wrists off the hooks on the wall, twisting them and tossing them back again, so that Buffy was still chained up, but now facing away from him. He seized a large, plush chair and dragged it under her, lifting her in one arm and tossing her onto all fours on the cushion. The chains rang; the jingling sound echoed across the bare walls of the mansion. Faith looked up.

Angelus pulled Buffy back against his body, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his cheek to the back of her neck and smiling at Faith.

"Torture," he said dreamily, "Is a fine art. It's a gift. Not everyone is naturally endowed with the instinct," he thrust his hips against Buffy, and she gasped involuntarily; he was hard as stone. "Or the," he drove his hips against Buffy again, and a grunt escaped her. His hands began to explore Buffy's body, gently, carefully, as he gazed at Faith.

"You'd love this, Faith," said Angelus, "You'd be a pushover. Every Slayer is an adrenaline junkie, but you're flat-out desperate. Desperate for anything. Any attention, any feeling that your existence might matter to never did, am I right? Your rotten childhood is written all over you. Poor Faith, she's a victim of the system, or a broken home, or is it MEN?"

Buffy kept silent, hoping that rage might strengthen Faith and drive her into action, but Faith was silent, her eyes glimmering with barely contained misery.

"She's everything you never got to be," Angelus' voice had dropped in pitch and become soft, "And she's going to hate this. Like you never would. If I fucked you dead you'd love every second of it, you'd go happy. That's not the point, do you see, Faith?" his hands were slipping inside Buffy's shirt, warmly caressing with Angel's touch, gliding downward into her pants and panties, teasing her belly like Angel used to. "The point is misery. Suffering. Pushing the right buttons. Going for the hot spots. Your jealousy, and your desperation, and your abject loneliness are going to make this TOO easy. What could be worse than to watch her getting another thing you can't have?"

"Don't flatter yourself, dead boy," sneered Faith.

"Lame," said Angelus, "Keep trying to make me mad, though. It makes me hard. Or harder. Doesn't it, sweetheart?" he whispered to Buffy, slipping his hand into her panties and between her legs. He snickered. He pulled his hand away and held it up in the candle light, admiring the way his fingers glistened.

"Check it out," he said to Faith. "She's so wet right now. But then, so are you, aren't you, Faith?"

"I'm going to kill him, B," announced Faith.

Angelus giggled. "The sisterhood of Slayers makes a comeback! Well, you'd better get on it," he said, "Because I'm about to make Buffy come her brains out right in front of you. Now would be the time, Faith," Angelus began undressing Buffy, carefully ripping the sleeves of her shirt apart, gently pulling off her shoes and pants and panties. No violent motions, just a perfect imitation of Angel's touch, the touch Buffy craved like a desert craves rain, the one thing she could never have again, being lavished on her. A sob escaped her. Angelus sighed happily, "This is too perfect. Buffy's going to hate me for making her come, and you're going to hate me for NOT making you come, and you're going to hate her for getting it. And best of all," his grin widened until it took his features completely into an evil sneer, "You're going to hate yourself, for not ever being quite what you should have been. For not being her. That's a lot of hate in one fuck. I've hit the motherlode,"

"I'm not going there again," said Buffy, "You know I can stake you now,"

"Interesting," mused Angelus, "I wonder if you could, if I was a direct threat to anyone, maybe. But what if I wasn't? I think a couple of eons in Hell might have paid off my debt to society. That's what you'd be thinking, without being able to stop yourself," he was undressing himself now, pausing as he peeled off his shirt to give Faith a good view, "It would be all about buying time, wouldn't it? Get to Willow, get her to curse me again, so you can never get fucked again. Not properly, anyway. You're drooling, Faith,"

"Fuck you,"

"Sorry. It would make Buffy miserable, but I couldn't get it up for you. Here's the important difference: it's not just that Buffy will hate this. It's also the way she doesn't wear her sex drive like a neon sign. That's why you keep finding those unfulfilling relationships. A slut's a slut. Buffy, now," he had slipped out of the last of his clothing and pulled Buffy back against him, his hands stroking slowly over the curve of her rump. Buffy dug her fingers into the upholstery and lashed backward with a lightening kick, connecting with his hip and sending him sprawling. He snarled in rage as he leaped from the floor and charged, but he paused before he reached her.

"I've got an idea," he said. He stalked over to Faith, grabbed a metal hook from the case full of torture implements and thrust it into Faith's ribcage. Faith cried out, buckling over. Angelus sawed in and out of her chest with the hook, then stopped.

"Do anything like that again," he said to Buffy, "And I'll give her an injury that even a Slayer won't heal from. She'll live, now. But not if you pull any other tricks. Got me?"

"Yes," said Buffy, "Leave her alone,"

"Buffy has class," said Angelus, "She can't have anyone suffer. Even someone who betrayed her. She'll throw herself in the volcano first. She's a real Slayer, living to serve and protect. It's repulsive, but it's so much fun to bring her down a peg or two," Angelus took a bottle from a table, poured something into his palm, and rubbed his hands together, "The perfect Slayer. With the hots for me. Isn't that sublime?" He slid his oiled hands over Buffy's body smoothly. He spoke softly to her, "Do you wonder if Angel was a little curious about Faith, Buffy? If her pussy would be as hot, if she could suck cock like you? Maybe he wondered, just for a second, what it would be like...maybe he-"

"Maybe he wondered if I ever fucked Scott, because we never discussed it,"

He grasped a handful of her hair and jerked her head backward violently. "I know you never fucked him,"

"Do you?"

Angelus' features twisted in anger, then relaxed.

"No, you don't," he said, "This is going to be fun, and you're not going to distract me,"

"I'll stake him," Faith said. "You might not be able to, B. I know I can,"

"I'll gag you in a minute,"said Angelus.

"Shut up, Faith," said Buffy, "Or he'll kill you," Then she gasped; Angelus was rubbing another palmful of oil over her, caressing her breasts with slippery fingers, stroking her nipples with practiced precision. Buffy arched, panting, and bit her lip.

"Here's the challenge," said Angelus lightly. His arms and chest shone with oil in the candlelight; his sex stood high and glistening, and his hand slipped over it. He glanced wickedly at Faith, "The challenge is to make her come until she almost blacks out, until she's too exhausted to do anything. Then I'll kill you, and get a nap,"

"You'll get a nap, all right," snapped Faith.

"Faith, shut UP," said Buffy.

"Want to see what you're missing?" Angelus sauntered to Faith, taking her by the scruff of the neck. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Hey, Buff. Should I tease her a little?" he chuckled, "Look how bad she wants it," He began slowly stroking himself, making low growling sounds of pleasure. He stared down at his sex as it slipped in and out of his fist, thick and hard as rock. Faith stared despite herself, eyes fixed on him. It was unbelievable. But she was starting to hate him.

Angelus became annoyed; even with Faith's growing hate, this was no longer fun. He released her and returned to Buffy.

"What's worse than wanting something you can't have?" he said, massaging another handful of oil over Buffy's back, "It's ALMOST getting what you want. Coming within a hair's breath of what you want. The mirage of water in the desert. The prey that gets away, just barely gets away. The cock that's ALMOST right where you want it," he began to push his hips against Buffy, moving his sex along the crevice between her legs, up and down. He hissed in appreciation.

"I've fucked countless women, Faith. Probably in the high hundreds. But none of them were ever like this. Buffy gets wet like the French make wine. It's decadent. It's lush. And she's so hot, she's hot like the tropics. She's got that Slayer physicality, so every muscle reacts to everything she feels. She grips you like a hungry cobra," He slipped a little finger into the entrance of Buffy's anus, very gently, "If this were to hurt, that would be all right, because then she could enjoy hating me. But Angel's tedious. Every little thing has to be tender. That's what will make it unbearable. I'm going to fuck her up the ass, but I'm going to do it just like Angel would do it,"

The oil on Buffy's body had crept down her arms; she repositioned her hands on the back of the chair, twisting her wrists, and a jolt of hope went through her. The cuffs on her wrists were a little loose anyway. Enough oil, and she might be able to slip out of them.

Angelus slipped his first finger into Buffy now, gradually loosening her; he was moving his other hand sweetly over her haunches, a warm, soothing touch. "See this ass, Faith? Amazing. You've got a little tiny ass, a boy's ass. Some men like that. Myself," his hands were gliding over Buffy's entire body now, effortlessly stroking her in the slick, warm oil; he slipped a finger into her again, deeper now, and Buffy moaned helplessly. "I've always liked a little softness around the edges. Nobody could look at this ass and not know it belonged to a woman. She's firm, but she's ripe, she's right at the peak of her bloom. She's like a perfect peach off the tree," He slapped Buffy's rump gently and leaned foreward, planting kisses along her spine, creeping upward. When he reached her neck he leaned his cheek on her shoulder. "I'm going to fuck you in the ass, lover," he whispered.

"Whatever," said Buffy, "But you had to chain me up to do it,"

"So that makes this a victory for you, right?"

Buffy was silent. Angelus leaned foreward and looked at the quiet resolve on her face.

He giggled. "If I let you out of those cuffs at the right moment, you wouldn't be going anywhere. You'd stay right where you are and beg for more. You know it and I know it,"

"So are you going to do it or are you going to talk me to death?"

"Oh, I'm going to do it," Angelus slipped two fingers into her and stroked them in and out. A surge of heat and chill moved through Buffy; goose bumps rose all over her. Her breath rushed out and then trembled back in. She shuddered. He probed more deeply, angling his fingers so that Buffy crooned in pleasure; she had expected this to be painful, and nothing more. She was dismayed, but her body had it's own ideas. He drew his fingers out of her and stepped to the side of the chair; he put his hand tenderly on her cheek and brought her face around to look at him. With his other hand he began to caress himself.

"It's going to be a tight fit," he said softly, "But if we do it right, you won't mind that. Just look at it, Buffy. It's all yours,"

"It never was," Buffy sneered.



"Yes you are. One night with this cock and you fell in love with it. You're spoiled forever. You'll never feel like that again. It's-" his voice took on a mocking tone, "It's just so unfair,"

Buffy's eyes glinted with rage. Angelus paused.

"Damn, I did it again," he looked at Faith, "I pissed her off. Now I've got to get her back in the mood,"

He walked behind her again and knelt, twisting his body and slithering beneath her in the chair; she was on all fours directly over him now.

"Do I need to remind you?" he said, looking up at her, and Buffy's breath caught, because with his features so softly lit and calm, he looked like Angel in a pensive moment, just like Angel; most of the time the change in his features had been obvious, but now her mind refused to put the demon to the face. She closed her eyes. "If you try anything, I'll kill her," he said.

"I know you will" sighed Buffy, "Just get it over with,"

"Sorry, but this can't be done in hurry," his voice went velvety, "This is going to take a while," he curled an arm around her and brought her down onto his chest; the contact with him, her bare skin against his, drove a sob out of her. Her heart raced, and she sobbed once again and then bit her lip. She glanced at Faith, who was swaying in her chair, rocking with pain; the Slayers exchanged solemn looks, glances of shared anger, before Buffy's eyes rolled back and she gasped. Angelus was taking greedy mouthfuls of her throat in his mouth and releasing them, his tongue moving like a thirsty snake. His fingers gripped and slid along her arms and legs. He cupped her breasts firmly in his hands and assaulted her nipples with sucking and nibbling. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and made a desperate, keening sound before the pleasure claimed her; she shouted, writhing against him. Her body exalted, helplessly. Her cries bounced off the walls, and he continued. He wanted to soak her completely, drain her of energy. She tried to push her thoughts elsewhere, to think of a plan of escape, a way to defeat him, but her body moved on him voraciously and she couldn't stop it. His hands were everywhere, his mouth taking her in, his tongue rippling on her skin. He was sliding downward and Buffy had to contain herself, because she was about to beg, beg him to stop. It would only inspire him. His fingers were gliding between her legs and then his tongue followed; he was doing it so artfully that it was hard to tell where his fingers ended and his tongue began. He took her clitoris tenderly in his mouth, drew on it a few times, and then released it. He slid two fingers into her anus in one long stroke, to the hilt. Buffy's cry tore against her throat. It didn't hurt at all, it was wonderful, and she cursed to herself. His tongue circled her clitoris, teased it in little flicks, then moved to her sex and slid into her. He worked her then with his tongue in her heat and his fingers deep in her behind; he managed to push three fingers into her and she actually screamed in pleasure. She was afraid she might weep. Angelus paused, turning his head to address Faith.

"Her clit is so swollen," he said, "It's plump right now, it's throbbing," he slurped it into his mouth and Buffy made a trilling, bird-like sound. He nursed it carefully, bringing Buffy to the very verge; she trembled violently, panting, and gave a ragged cry of frustration as he let it slip from between his lips at the crucial moment and began licking her belly. Buffy's nails dug into the chair and she swore under her breath, not willing to give him the satisfaction of saying anything out loud. One of his hands was gliding over her hips, the other steadily pumping three fingers in and out of her behind, and even this put her in danger of surrendering; she arched her back, gritted her teeth, and tried again to think of something else. He had crawled upward in the chair and was nibbling languidly on her nipples, his fingers still probing her, twisting in the oil. Buffy's sex throbbed hungrily on itself, gripping an aching emptiness. He was deliberately ignoring it, and her moisture flowed freely. She shivered as he licked her nipples and then she gave over again, shrieking.

He slid downward once more, licking a long line down her belly and again closing his mouth over her clitoris, this time swishing his tongue around it rapidly, and another orgasm seized her quickly. He lapped at her until it subsided.

"Is your pussy hungry, lover?" Buffy refused to answer him.

"Poor baby," said Angelus, "Nothing at all for your pussy. Just in your ass. So close, and yet so far," he slid out from under her and picked up the bottle again, rubbing a large amount of the oil over Buffy's behind.

"Faith," he said, "Wondering just how good this is going to feel? Too bad you'll never know,"

"I'll live,"

"Well, actually, you won't, but that's another issue," he turned to Buffy, "It's almost time, lover," he purred. "You ready?"

Buffy steeled herself. "Yeah," she said, "Whatever,"

He laughed as he leaned against her and Buffy gasped at the feel of his sex pressed against her; she'd forgotten how huge it was. Her body contracted desperately. His fingers entered her again, softening the tight opening and working the oil into her. He forced his sex downward, into the proper angle, and began to rub the head back and forth over her. He put a hand on her hip and pushed gently; Buffy felt the thick tip of it throb as it pushed into her, and she cried out. Now, it hurt, and a wave of slight nausea moved through her. She took some satisfaction in that. At least he wouldn't get her with this; so far, this sucked. Then he pushed deeper and Buffy drew in a long, tremulous breath and heard herself croon. No, it didn't suck anymore. It was amazing. He pushed again, deeper, and Buffy's entire body seemed to clench onto him, every cell of her was receiving him, opening to him, begging for more of him. He slid even further in; Buffy screamed as the pleasure took her. He began to stroke in and out of her smoothly and with every swing Buffy felt it beginning again, a new unbearable surge, and his name was coming out of her mouth, over and over.

"How good is it, baby?" he growled.

Buffy craned her head back and screamed again. Angelus' hands slipped under her body, caressing her lavishly. Buffy was lost. She was babbling his name, tossing her head, and her body was completely taken by him. She'd never felt anything like this, it consumed her. Pleasure built on pleasure, growing harsher and harsher, shaking her to the roots of herself. Her entire being became a sheath for him. For over a year she had been virtually without his touch. Even after having him back, even after he had redeemed himself to everyone else, even after they had negotiated the treacherous ground between them, she still hadn't had any real relief from her unhappiness, that sadness and relentless craving for him; her need for him had to go unsatisfied every day. It was the kind of low-grade misery that makes people older, and Buffy realized now that she had been feeling ancient. Her heart felt like a dried-up riverbed, with painful cracks that were deepened even more every time she couldn't really hold him, hold him with her real desire, kiss him with the longing she really felt. Now she was filled with him and she soaked him up as helplessly as the riverbed would a flood. Her mind, her conscience, her duty moved aside. They had to. She needed him, right now, and nothing within her power would change it. She took the only course open to her, she screamed from the depths of her soul, the orgasm crashing over her again and again.

"I'm going to give it to you now, right now," Angelus' voice was no longer calm and sarcastic, it held a desperation, and Buffy just kept crying out his name and waited for the cold spurt deep inside her; his sex swelled and then she felt it, a rush of coolness, and she began to weep. His arms went around her, crushing her against him, his sex still pulsing inside her. She managed to stop sobbing; now would be the nightmarish part. He was going to kill Faith and she was powerless to stop him. Buffy glanced over and saw an empty chair, with twisted fragments of duct tape clinging to it. He was still gripping her, his face mashed into her shoulder. Buffy panted, feeling his sex shrink and withdraw on it's own. A tingling overcame her, and a sudden sleepiness. Her muscles shook. He grabbed the chains again, twisting them and throwing them back so that she fell onto her back on the chair. He went on all fours over her, crouching and looking down with a smirk.

"Maybe I'll feel sorry for you and give it to you for real, in a bit," he said. He rose and saw the empty chair, and an enraged snarl exploded from him. "Well," he said, "I guess it was just too much for her. But I bet she runs to the rugrats," he looked at Buffy, "We're leaving,"


"That's right," He was pulling his clothes on.

"Do you think I'm going to be a nice traveling companion for you?"

"With enough restraints. You're light. I've got hideouts here and there,"

"I just realized the biggest difference between you and Angel. IQ's,"

"Good thing it's not dick size, though, right?"

"Just go," said Buffy, "You'll get a head-start. I'll UPS your books wherever. Oh, that's right, I bet you can't read,"

"You have no idea how tedious he is," grunted Angelus, as he dressed her, pulling on her pants and shoes, "You'd miss me. He's all read and no action. And he writes. The most self-indulgent, stupid crap you've ever read. He'd bore you after a while,"

"You wish,"

He was wrapping her ankles together with duct tape. He started on her arms. "Don't make me gag you. Just imagine how miserable you'd be if you couldn't nag me,"

Her arms were sealed together in tape. "You ripped my shirt up," said Buffy.

"Just relax, fashion plate," said Angelus, as he tied the ragged cloth of her shirt around her chest in a makeshift covering, "Nobody's ever going to get a look at you again but me, anyway," he unlocked the cuffs on her wrists and lifted her, slinging her effortlessly over his shoulder.

"How far do you really think you're going to get?" Buffy grunted.

"Don't worry, lover, it's close by," he said, "And then we can get down to some real fun," he strode through the mansion, past the fireplace with it's dim flicker, and suddenly he buckled and fell to the floor. Buffy rolled away and looked back at him in time to see a golden light fill his eyes and then subside; he crumpled, sobbing. Buffy had seen it before. She closed her eyes and thanked Willow silently.

Angel was looking at the floor, shuddering. He glanced up and saw her, and his features contorted in shock. He crawled to her and began to rip at the tape, tears still running down his face. He sniffled as his eyes flickered over her.

"Buffy-are you OK?"

Buffy sensed a movement and looked out into the garden; she saw Giles lower a crossbow and turn away. His shadow disappeared in the trees.

"I'm OK," she said.

"Who did this?" he began to look around in alarm.

"It's OK, just get me out of this,"

His hands were trembling. "What happened?"

Her hands were free. She cupped his face and kissed him. "It's over now, it's all right,"

He had freed her. He frowned, gaining his bearings, and pulled her to him. "What happened to your shirt?"

"It's OK now,"

"You'll be cold," he pulled off his coat, wrapping her in it, "I'll get you a shirt,"

"Not yet," she pulled him back against her and held him. He sniffed again, blinking. They were quiet for a while. She stroked his cheek.

"You've been gone, you know that, right?"

"I-yeah..." he said, struggling. He looked at her, eyes full of fear, and clutched her to him again, tightly. He shook. Buffy's heart caught in her chest.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, softly.

He didn't answer, he just rocked her, and she knew it was bad. She couldn't tell him everything tonight, but they had to talk, soon. Sunnydale was bad for him. And him being in Sunnydale was bad for her, for both of them. It made both of them too vulnerable.

They stayed together through the night, curled around each other . As the sun began to rise Buffy guided him upstairs and put him to bed. She put on one of his shirts and walked home, admiring the soft colors of sunrise. As she approached her house she saw a figure sitting beneath her bedroom window. It was Faith.

Buffy stopped. The Slayers looked at each other, deliberately not squaring off.

"I called Willow," said Faith.

"I know," said Buffy.

"That ends the truce," said Faith.

"There was a truce?"

"It's over. I'm back with the Mayor. You should bolt, B. Just get out of town,"

"You know I can't do that,"

"Take him with you. Get away from here,"

"I'm staying, Faith,"

"Then you'll die, with everybody else on the wrong side of the Ascention,"

"I'll beat him. And you."

Faith rose. "I wish it could have been different," she said.

"It still could be,"

"It never will be. You're you and I'm me. But you should try to hang on to him. Anyway you can,"

"It's your choice," said Buffy, "We could have done so much good,"

"Yeah, well, the war's back on. See you around," Faith dug her hands deep in her pockets and walked away.

Buffy climbed into her room. She sat on her bed and looked out the window. The sky was filling with light. A familiar feeling was creeping over her. She had Giles. She had Willow, and Xander and Oz, and even Cordy, in a strange way. She would always have Angel. But right now, and somehow forever, she was absolutely alone.