Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. They all belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy and the WB Network. Please don't sue.
Author's Notes: 'It is far safer to be feared than loved' - Niccolo Machiavelli
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Spike lounged against the wall of the mansion watching Drusilla. Dru was working a spell, dropping things into a large cauldron, waving her hands about, muttering things. It all looked very magickal. Of course since Dru was quite mad it could have just been gibberish. But Spike hoped it would work.
It worked. Angel appeared, naked, in front of them. Spike grinned. Angel rushed at him. When he got within five feet of Spike he doubled over in pain, slowed to a stagger. He backed up to a safe distance and glowered at Spike. "What have you done?"
Spike rocked back and forth on his feet, still grinning. "My Dru worked a little bit af magick. We brought you here to play." Spike rushed forward. As Angel folded in agony, Spike kicked him in the stomack with a steel- capped boot. Angel fell to the floor groaning.
---In a small dorm room at Sunnydale Community College, Buffy stirred uneasily in her bed. Her eyes flickered open and she glanced at the clock. 11:24 am. She'd only been asleep for just over two hours. Maybe she felt wrong because she didn't usually sleep during the day. But she was so tired. She'd been up all night patrolling and studying. Buffy rolled over, pulled her quilt over her head and drifted back to sleep.---
Spike picked up a long stick and alternately prodded and kicked Angel around the room. He stopped abruptly, leaving Angel bruised and bloodied under a blacked out window. Spike turned to Dru. "Got my toys, pet? Chuck me one?"
Drusilla tossed a large stone to Spike. He threw it at the window. The glass broke in a jagged hole and sunlight streamed through hitting Angel's stomach. The exposed flesh steamed, bubbled and burst into flame. Angel screamed.
---Buffy awoke with a jerk. Something was wrong. Her heart hurt. She looked around groggily trying to convince herself that if any of her friends were in danger she'd know for sure. That it wouldn't just be a feeling. Maybe, she told herself, it's just the exhaustion doing things to my mind.---
Spike pushed at Angel with his stick, moving him out of the light. He skirted the stream of sunlight and crouched down next to Angel. He patted the charred mess that was now Angel's belly and whispered in his ear. "I'm done for now. Dru's turn to play."
Drusilla sat beside Angel with a bucket of holy water and a sponge. She touched his head with her hand. "Oh my poor Angel. I'll make it all better." She dipped the sponge in the water ind wiped it across his forehead. The skin blistered. Holy water ran down into Angel's eyes. It sizzled briefly, blinding him.
---In her bed, Buffy writhed and sweated. Her body fought instinctively against the feelings that engulfed it, but it wasn't enough. Buffy lapsed into unconsciousnes.---
Spike proudly watched Drusilla playing with Angel. He winced when her little finger got wet and burned, and tenderly issued a warning. "Careful, baby. You don't want to get hurt."
Drusilla looked over at him. "It's alright Spike. Sometimes I like to hurt."
Dru repeatedly wet the sponge and stroked it over Angel's body. Angel writhed and screamed as he gradually became a smoking, blistering, bleeding mess. When Dru was satisfied with her work she stood up carefully, dusted off her old-style black lace dress and upended the bucket, tipping the remaining holy water an Angel's chest. He shrieked in pure agony. Angel crumbled into dust.
---In her bed Buffy whimpered softly. Her heart broke and started to bleed. Buffy died dreaming of her Angel.---
The End.
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