When the Sun Never Rises
Buffy thought as a Harker she would be protected from this sort of manhandling, that Lord Angelus wasn’t allowed to toss her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He wasn’t supposed to be able to touch her at all. She fought the urge to buck away from him, knowing her fear and revulsion would only please him and that she wouldn’t be able to escape. Instead, she hung limply over his broad shoulder and refused to meet the eyes of any vampire or servant who looked over her curiously as they passed.
She was just getting used to his broad gait and the rhythm of his steps when he hoisted her back over his shoulder, setting her on her feet, keeping one of her wrists trapped beneath his strong fingers. He was grinning wolfishly and as she turned to see what he was so happy about, she heard three female voices chiming in a chorus of trance-like whispers, “Mmmm…Angel…”
Buffy looked over the three deadly, beautiful creatures that hovered over a giant king sized bed in the center of a decadently lush bedroom. The four poster bed was impressive with a thick wooden frame adorned with intricately carved writhing bodies, intertwined against each other in both pleasure and pain.
“Do you know who they are?” Lord Angelus growled happily as he jerked her from the doorway toward the massive bed. The women floated over the black silk covered bed, none of them touching its surface, wearing black robes that slashed across their bodies in uneven swipes, leaving one breast free on each of them and a healthy expanse of thigh on their opposing leg. They were all different – one blonde and fair with her hair in long ringlets and fierce green eyes that were glazed over in surrender, one dark with toffee colored skin and equally expressive golden eyes and finally the middle child, with warm almond skin and glittering black eyes.
“N-no,” Buffy stuttered honestly as he dragged her closer to them.
“They are the Angry Ones,” he answered, smiling at them hungrily. He pushed Buffy roughly when they reached the end of the bed and she tried to catch herself before she was sprawled on top of it, but failed, landing bent over the mattress. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut as he leaned over her, grinding his aroused groin almost painfully against her backside.
“The Furies,” he continued in explanation, his voice hoarse with anticipated pleasure, “the Avenging Goddesses, born of blood from the murdered child…and the three hottest cunts this side of the Mount Olympus.”
“Mmmm….Angel…” the goddesses agreed in voices that hinted at the passion to come.
“You can’t touch me,” Buffy muffled into the black comforter, grasping blindly for the confidence and dulled feelings she had when she walked into the Feast of St. Vigeous hours earlier. She searched her mind for the protective rules of the Harkers. She couldn’t be ruined. She had to be pure. Raising her voice she continued, trying to pull away from the leather covered vampire groin rubbing against her, “I’m a Harker! You can’t do this to me! I’m pure. You can’t …you c-can’t … touch me.”
“You’d be surprised what I will get away with,” he growled softly. She cringed as his ridged face brushed against the nape of her neck.
Buffy bit her inner jaw to keep from screaming as she realized her tormentor had pulled away and left her chained and completely trapped to the end of his bed. Panic seized her as she heard the rustling of his clothes being dropped to the floor and the anticipatory moans of the Furies.
Wiggling and yanking at her chains, Buffy fought to move from the bed, but found that the chains only allowed her to scamper from side to side. She was completely trapped and would be subjected to whatever the vicious fiend had planned for her. Fearfully, she peeked over at the Furies who sank to their knees on top of the bed. Angelus strutted over proudly nude and joined them.
Buffy had a lot of time to experiment with her bonds. She discovered, to her relief, that if she contorted herself sufficiently that she could actually sit on the bedroom's cold, stone floor, though her arms were pulled over her head painfully. She could deal with the pain. It was better than having to be front and center for the unbridled debauchery of Lord Angelus and his three whores.
It had been hours and Buffy was still blushing a bright, crimson red. She was a chaste girl, pure in every aspect. Of course, she heard talk, she knew what sex was - theoretically. Though she had to admit that some of the acts in which Lord Angelus and the Furies engaged were far beyond anything she could have imagined. She couldn't envision that such sordid things could be appealing. But obviously they were. For the duration of her confinement at the end of his bed, Buffy had listened to nothing but the Furies' constant moans of pleasure and the continual chorus of "Mmmm …. Angel."
Just when Buffy was certain she couldn't stand one more pleasurable moan, the bedroom door was thrown open with enough force to make the bed frame tremble. All moans and sighs from the bed ceased immediately, quickly replaced by the sound of rustling clothing. In the doorway stood a vampire, her shoulder length blonde hair complemented perfectly by the fact that she was dressed from head to toe in black leather so tight it was a good thing she didn't need to breathe. She did not look happy. She ignored Buffy, glaring at the bed as she snarled, "Get out."
Oddly silent, the Angry Ones quickly floated out the door, giving the vampire a wide berth. She turned and watched them go, finally slamming the door shut and stepping into the middle of the room. From the bed, Angelus chuckled darkly. "Darla," he nearly purred.
"You insolent whelp," she snapped, "is that any way to greet your Sire?"
He released a long, purring sigh and Buffy could imagine the look of bored satisfaction on his demonic features. "Tonight my veins run with the blood of the Chosen sacrifice. If you have any desire to partake in the feast, it is you who should be greeting me."
Darla frowned darkly, her eyes finally lighting on Buffy cowering at the end of the bed. She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Don't you ever tire of this game?" she asked, though her anger had apparently faded as she walked over to the bed, reaching up to undo the zipper at her throat.
"No," he replied lightly. "Their terror is one of the few things that will never bore me."
Buffy listened to the mattress creak as Darla climbed onto it. If Buffy thought that listening to Angelus and the Furies was the pinnacle of sexual debauchery, she was sadly mistaken. There was snarling and the sound of rending leather before Darla's shirt landed on her. Buffy shook it off distastefully, wishing there was some way she could blot out the sounds and smells and feel of their violent coupling.
Buffy woke up with a start, fearfully realizing that she had fallen asleep even with the debauchery of Angelus and his blonde bitch of a Sire fucking like fiends. All the revulsion and exhaustion had made their way through her whole body until even the pain faded into numbness. Now with the morning, she felt as if her internal organs had been swapping places all night and her muscles were cramping.
She eased herself up, trying to use her legs rather than her sore arms and moved to a crouch to peer over the edge of the massive bed. Lord Angelus was lying sideways, his body tangled in the sheets with his face nestled in the valley of Darla’s breasts. Buffy shuddered and bowed her head quickly to look at the floor, but wasn’t quick enough to miss Angelus’ tongue creeping between his fangs to lick the wound he had left on the inner curve of his vampire lovers’ breast.
“See what I mean?” Angelus growled fitfully, stretching and purring like an overgrown cat, “The moment she wakes up, I can feel her fear filling the room. Fuck, every second in the presence of any Harker in my bedroom is like a rollercoaster.”
“Send her off to do … human things,” Darla bit out distastefully, “She reeks of goodness and purity. It makes me sick.”
“You need to learn to enjoy the finer things in life,” he chuckled, springing from the bed and landing securely on his bare feet. He sauntered around to the end and pulled Buffy to her feet, nearly dangling her before his Sire’s eyes. “This bitch is like a constant cock jolt,” he said, leaning in to lick her neck, “She tastes like humiliation and fear. There’s nothing better.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Buffy croaked, squirming to get away from the naked vampire she was held against even though every movement made the chains scrape painfully against her skin, “P-please let me go.”
“How could you not like this?” Angelus asked silkily as he strolled to his discarded pants and pulled out a set of keys. He unlocked Buffy’s manacles, making sure his body was in full contact with hers during the entire process, keeping his hands sliding over her skin with every gesture. He laughed out loud and bounded back on the bed as Buffy ran out of the room, holding her robe up to not trip over her own feet.
“You’re sick,” Darla spat, sliding back to move away from him. “She’s a human, Angelus!”
“I never said I wasn’t sick,” Angelus snarled grabbing a handful of her blonde hair and pulling her against him once more.
After Buffy showered, scrubbing every inch of her body to rid herself of the death and sex that clung to her skin, she redressed in her same robe and wandered out of the bathroom to look through the rest of the house. She made sure to steer clear of the bedroom, hoping desperately that Darla would keep Lord Angelus busy for a long time. Although she knew he wasn’t technically allowed to defile her, she still had the terrifying thought that he could …and would if given the chance.
She shuddered with the mental image but was stopped in her tracks as she opened a door and looked into the most beautiful library she had ever seen. The walls were lined with shelves from ceiling to floor overloaded with volumes of all shapes and sizes. There was a world of fantasy to delve into and become blissfully lost.
Entering the room in excited childlike steps, she looked more closely, peering at the haphazard order of the shelves, which seemed to have no rhyme or reason. Thankfully, they were not all of the dark world and magicks, but were widely varied from the newest best seller to the oldest tome. Lost in the exploration, she squeaked out a high pitched sound as a large box in the corner greeted her in a succinct British tone. “Good day,” the box stated, “You must be the newest Harker.”
Buffy jumped, her hand covering her racing heart.
"Beg pardon," the box said, "I didn't intend to frighten you. My name is Rupert Giles. Giles to most."
“I, uh ... “ Buffy stuttered, cautiously venturing closer until she could peer inside the box and see the middle-aged human smiling warmly. “I’m Buffy,” she said lamely.
“Very nice to meet you, Buffy,” he replied cordially, though there was a pronounced sadness in his eyes.
“Not to be rude, Giles,” Buffy ventured, “but what are you doing in that box?”
Giles laughed ruefully. “It amuses Lord Angelus to keep me in here,” he explained dryly. “I’m a Watcher by birth and he finds my research skills most helpful. It would be sufficient to merely confine me to the library, but I’m afraid he fears I may find potentially incendiary material in some of his more valuable books.”
“He thinks you’ll burn up the library?”
Giles smiled at Buffy gently. “No,” he said, “that’s not exactly what I meant. I was referring to the knowledge that could be gleaned from some of his texts. It could prove quite illuminating in the literal sense.”
“Not following you here, Giles,” Buffy said with a frown.
“I know,” he said sadly. “So let the first lesson begin here. As I have already told you, I am a Watcher, and you, my dear, are a Slayer.”
“I’m a Harker.”
“No, Buffy, Harkers is the name given you by the vampires. You are a Slayer.”
“A Slayer? I have never killed anything in my life,” Buffy whispered in confusion, “Besides, I’m just a human. What on earth would I be killing?”
“Vampires, of course,” Giles answered with a twinkle in his eye. “That is your destiny. The Slayer is the Chosen. The one girl in all the world with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread-“
“Ooookay,” Buffy said, nodding with an official air, “I think the big evil in there has kept you in this box a little too long.”
“Perhaps I ought to back up our story,” Giles said with a sad smile, “A thousand years ago, the entire sky was brightened by a large star we called the sun.“
“There are stars all over the place and none of them brighten the whole sky,” Buffy interrupted. “If he ever lets you out of this box, you should look out the window.”
“That’s true,” he said, “but this star was bright enough and close enough to the Earth to light up sky during the day and its rays were deadly to the vamp-“
Footsteps startled Buffy and caused her to scramble to her feet and away from the man in the box. She bit her lip as she tiptoed toward the door and peeked out. There she found a Renfield girl carrying a load of towels in her arms. When she saw Buffy smiling at her in relief she hurried toward the bathroom.
“Wait!” Buffy called in a voice just above a whisper. “Don’t run away. I’m Buffy.”
“Amy,” she said with a nod. She picked up the pace and quickly flung the towels as neatly as she could into the cabinet. She was shaking like Buffy was some sort of beast ready to pounce on her and edged around Buffy as if touching her would singe her skin.
“I don’t bite,” Buffy said. Her first instinct was to be insulted, but the girl looked so afraid she couldn’t. Smiling lightly, she realized that Amy probably needed a friend. “Do you work here every day? Maybe we can be friends, you know, until I die.”
“Look,” Amy softly, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have it as signed and sealed as you do. No offense, but please don’t talk to me.”
“Why not?” Buffy asked. “Besides, you probably know what’s up with the raving loony in the box in the library.”
Amy yelped in pain and Buffy watched in horror as Angelus, wearing nothing but a pair of leather pants pulled the squirming Renfield against his chest. “Tsk, tsk,” he growled in evil mirth, holding the girl tighter. “The servants know better than to be speaking to my Harker.”
“Please, Master,” Amy pled, “I meant no harm. I didn’t wish to speak to her.”
He seemed to consider to pleas for a moment and then shrugged, tearing into her neck so violently that Buffy heard his fangs scrape against Amy’s spinal column. Buffy shuddered, turning away as he noisily glutted himself on the young woman’s blood. When finished, he dropped the corpse to the ground, staring at it wistfully. He reached out, grabbing Buffy’s chin and forcing her to look into his blood-smeared face. “The servants are forbidden to speak to you,” he said with a smile.
She stared at him, her anger overcoming her fear. “You could have warned me,” she yelled defiantly.
He laughed at her. Spunk. Spunk was always good. Of course, it wouldn’t do to have her thinking she could speak to him in that manner. He grabbed her wrist, dragging her out of the bathroom and across the hall into the library. He tossed her towards the large table that was the centerpiece of the room, knocking the breath from her lungs.
Slowly, he strode into the room. “You don’t get to speak to anyone except for me and,” he pointed to the box, “him. Only because nothing short of cutting out his tongue can seem to keep him quiet when it comes to his precious young girls. Sadly, I rather need him to be able to speak.”
He made his way to where Buffy was half sprawled across the table, face down. He blanketed her back with his body, grinding his leather clad hips against her ass. “Disobey me again,” Angelus purred in her ear, “and you’ll find out just how far I can take things without defiling your purity.” Buffy’s eyes searched the room and she found Giles watching them intently, a murderous look on his face. Angelus saw him too and laughed openly. “Ask him,” he said, “he’ll tell you what happened to the other girls.” Grabbing a handful of her hair, he jerked her backwards and proceeded to lick her neck before once again shoving her forward and striding out of the room.
Shaking and feeling violated, Buffy slumped to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself. She lifted her tear-filled eyes to Giles, whose expression was stern. “His threats are not idle, Buffy,” Giles said, “you cannot imagine the horrors which he can inflict.”
Buffy spent part of the afternoon in the library with Giles and then wandered to the marketplace that he told her about once Angelus left to do whatever it was he did when he was away from his home. She found all of the girls huddled in the back of a clothing shop that sold to primarily human customers, just as Giles had directed. The woman who ran the shop, Janna, was Giles’ betrothed before he was taken prisoner.
“How is he?” Janna asked, grabbing her gently by both shoulders and looking intently in Buffy’s eyes, “Tell me, is he alright? Is he still alive?”
“He’s…okay,” Buffy said reluctantly, stepping backward from the woman’s pleading eyes. She had no idea if Janna was aware that Giles lived in a box these days, but if she didn’t, Buffy decided she wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. “Are the others here?” Buffy asked quietly, shifting her eyes to the racks of clothes.
“They’re in the back,” Janna said, waving toward a doorway covered by a brightly colored curtain. Buffy took an awkward step toward the doorway before she turned back to Janna and said, “He misses you. He didn’t say it, but when he talked about you, I could tell.”
The other girls looked decidedly different from the last time she had seen them. There was no weeping, no hysteria. They looked bored. Some of them sat on the floor playing cards, two of them were reading. The next Chosen, Faith, was sharpening a knife. Looking up from the whetstone, Faith’s eyes met Buffy’s. “Well lookie if it ain’t the new girl,” she said with a mirthless smile.
Buffy nodded to the room and found that most of her fellow Harkers looked at her with a good deal of pity. She found herself avoiding their eyes. It was bad enough what she had to endure as Lord Angelus’ Harker, but she hated the idea that other people knew about it. One of the older girls, Justine, motioned for Buffy to sit next to her. As she took her place on the floor, Justine handed her a piece of bread and Buffy realized with some shock that she was starving. She ate the bread ravenously. As she was chewing, Justine leaned over and whispered, “He’s just trying to scare you.”
Slowly, Buffy ceased her chewing and looked into Justine’s face. “What?”
“They can’t touch us,” Justine said. “My Master, Penn, is very loud. He’s always bemoaning the number of things he can’t do to me. Lord Angelus’ threats are to scare you. He lives on fear. Our purity is necessary. Touching defiles us. He would never risk defiling his Harker.”
Buffy swallowed the piece of bread in her mouth, trying not to get excited. Even Giles had seemed to regard Lord Angelus’ threats as very serious. But what if Justine was right? Lord Angelus had already been quite vocal about the fact that he loved her fear. Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe his threats were simply made to keep her in a constant state of fear. Buffy looked around the room and found the other girls nodding in unison. All except Faith, who seemed lost in her own thoughts.
“Don’t mind her,” Justine said, motioning to Faith. “It’s always hard being the next one to go.”