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The Silken Cage: Journey	By : margotlefaye Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 21206 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel or any of the characters therefrom. No profit is being made from this work of fanfic, which is intended as commentary on the original, not as a derivative work. No infringement intended.

Chapter List
- 1-The Silken Cage: Journey
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 9-Part 9
- 10-Part 10
- 11-Part 11
- 12-Part 12
- 13-Part 13
- 14-Part 14
- 15-Part 15a
- 16-Part 15b
- 17-Part 16
- 18-Part 17
- 19-Part 18
- 20-Part 19
- 21-Part 20
- 22-Part 21
- 23-Part 22a
- 24-Part 22b
- 25-Part 23
- 16
- 17
- 18
Buffy’s second bath of the day went off rather better than the first had done. This time, when Angelus carried her into the tub of warm, herb-infused water, the pleasant lassitude he had himself induced made her more tolerant of his smug assurance. She didn’t challenge him and, well pleased with her earlier sensual responsiveness--as he always found pleasure with her-- he was not inclined to taunt or tease.
He held her in his arms, the heat of the water lending a spurious warmth to his chill, unliving flesh, and she could pretend, if she wanted to, that she was lying content in the arms of her Angel, made somehow human, instead of lying imprisoned in the embrace of her demon lover.
She wanted, rather badly, to pretend. And for that very reason, she didn’t dare. Time enough to dream of Angel, later. Now she needed to focus on what was happening around her as she planned her escape.
Angelus himself was enough of a distraction.
He was purring as she rested in his embrace, a rumbling growl that should have frightened her, reminding her of how very much more animalistic the vampire nature was, but she could only feel secure, safe.
Beloved.
She shied away from that thought. It was too dangerous, rousing the woman in her to remember only his tenderness as a lover, his skill in bringing her unfailing pleasure. And it was too illusory, as well. They were not contented lovers, they were enemies engaged in a sensual war. Angelus wanted her, but he wanted her broken, and remade in an image utterly subservient to him. He didn’t want a strong Slayer, opposing him, unless he was guaranteed each victory. He wanted her as his mate, but he wanted her strength and abilities suborned to his will.
She was an ultimate weapon against evil, and he wanted her disarmed.
No matter how tender a lover he had been, no matter how exquisite the pleasure that he had brought her, she could not let him have his way in this. The less the woman in her wanted to escape his embrace, the more the Slayer in her knew she must.
Things could not continue as they were. Angelus had not attempted to take a single human life since he had succeeded in capturing her. But Riley’s blood was still on his hands, a reminder to her, if she needed one, that Angelus was a vicious, remorseless killer. Sooner or later, he would hunt. Sooner or later, she would have to stop him, or die trying.
She was the Slayer, and there was no other choice.
There was one further truth that she could not hide from: Angelus’ ambitions did not stop with making her his lover and his consort. He wanted to bring her into the night, and turn the Chosen defender of the innocent into a monster of appetite and blood hunger against which the innocent would have no defense. According to Angelus, no one had ever succeeded in turning a Slayer. Maybe, if she were lucky, it wasn’t even possible. Maybe whatever supernatural forces went into making her what she was also imparted some sort of immunity to the vampiric state. Maybe, if Angelus tried to turn her, she’d just end up dead. But, if he did succeed, and if her Slayer strength and abilities stayed with her through the change, she would rise as one of the most formidable, powerful vampires the world had ever known. And together, she and Angelus would represent a threat before which the Watcher’s Council itself, and whatever hapless girls were Chosen after her, would tremble.
She was the Slayer, and she could not permit that to happen.
And that was why, even as she closed her eyes and rested her head against Angelus’ broad chest, listening to the rumbling purr that denoted his satisfaction, she went over in her mind the steps she would need to take to get away.
It wouldn’t be easy. Whatever Mai was, she wasn’t human, and Angelus was doubtless planning to set her as some kind of guard over Buffy. But, save for Angelus himself, Buffy had never met the demon she couldn’t outfight or outwit. She’d find an opportunity. Or create one. But she would get away.
"Penny for your thoughts," Angelus said lazily.
"I’m wondering what to wear," Buffy answered truthfully. She needed something that would give her unrestricted movement, and at the same time, something nondescript, that wouldn’t call attention to her when she tried to blend in with a crowd.
Unaware of the real reason for her concern, Angelus threw back his head and laughed. "How very female of you, my love. You probably will complain that you need to buy something to wear that’s suitable for going out in to buy things to wear."
"Well, duh!," she returned calmly. "I mean, have you thought about what’s needed in a good shopping outfit? You want something that’s stylish and comfortable, but also easy to get in and out of."
"That won’t prove a problem," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. "All of the clothing I ordered for you is easily removed."
"Even the jeans?" she asked dryly.
"Even the jeans. Well, for me, anyway." Buffy shivered at the primal images his words invoked: Angelus ripping the clothes from her body, his hunger for her intemperate and undeniable, her own hunger instantly rising in response . . . . Yes, she thought, forcing her mind back to practical matters, even the jeans would be easy for her to get out of, and they would add a layer of protection should she find herself running through the jungle. But in the Hawaiian heat, they might add a degree of discomfort she really couldn’t afford.
"Think I’ll stick with a sundress," she said. "If I have any left that you haven’t ripped to pieces." He chuckled.
"I’m sure one or two are still in tact. I’m also sure you’ll have no trouble replacing the ones that aren’t."
"Probably not," she agreed cheerfully.
Angelus left her to finish up by herself, saying he had one or two matters to discuss with Mai. He wasn’t back when Buffy emerged from the bath, and she wondered if she should make a run for it now. A peek outside the blinds showed Robert waiting impassively beside a white Miata. No escape that way. She turned her attention to finding something to wear.
At some point since their arrival, probably while they had been out at dinner the night before, the bags Angelus had brought for them had been unpacked, and the items inside neatly hung up, or folded away. Buffy wouldn’t have been surprised to find that a maid had ironed the sundresses and summer skirts now hanging in the closet, which had held only evening wear the last time she’d looked. She settled for a sundress in a cotton candy pink that made her changeable eyes look more gray than green. It was easy to get in and out of, and with luck, she’d be able to purchase something else easy to get in and out of which she could switch into as soon as she managed to get away from Mai. She decided to wear her hair loose, but slipped hairpins into her purse, so that she could disguise the length, later. The scarf she slipped in with them would further the disguise. If, once she got away, Angelus had people looking for a petite blond with long hair in a pink dress with flat sandals, then she wanted to be as far from that description as she could get.
Of course if he took a hand in the hunt himself . . .
Buffy forced the disquieting thought aside. If she managed to escape, Angelus joining the hunt wasn’t just a possibility, it was a dead certainty. Over and over again, he had made it clear that he wasn’t going to let her go, and that he would make her very, very sorry if she tried to leave him. She knew him well enough to be terrified of what that would mean, if she let him catch her.
But if he had hoped to cow her by those repeated threats, if he had hoped to break her will, and keep her from acting, he had miscalculated. The only thing he had done was to make her keenly aware that if she got away, she had better not let him recapture her. His threats had done nothing to ensure her compliance with his will.
Ah, but there were other things. Buffy frowned at the thought. Oh, yes. Angelus had done things to her that made her very compliant, indeed. Insane as it was, impossible as she would have believed it, in the week of her captivity, Angelus had somehow placed his own claim on her heart. If there were only herself to consider, if she thought there were a chance in Hell that she could keep him from ever harming another human being for the rest of his unlife, and that he would honor her desire not to be turned, she would not be looking for a way to leave him: she would be looking for a way to make sure he never left her side again.
But that wasn’t how things were. Angelus had made no bones about his intentions: he was going to spoil and pamper her, and train her to be the perfect consort. And in a few short years, he would drain her dry, force her to drink his blood, and make the demon that would animate her body his eternal mate. Buffy had no idea whether she would rise as simply another vampire, or if being the Slayer meant she had the potential to become something even more deadly. The only thing she knew for sure was that she couldn’t afford to find out.
Buffy dressed quickly, and put on minimal makeup, before fixing her hair. Satisfied with her appearance, she was about to leave to join Angelus in Mai’s apartment when another thought occurred to her.
She didn’t have a penny on her. Angelus would doubtless give whatever money he was planning on letting her spend directly to Mai. Buffy was no ordinary kidnapping victim. She couldn’t go to the police for help, unless she wanted a majorly pissed-off Angelus wiping out a police force that couldn’t possibly comprehend what he was, or be prepared to deal with him. Her best hope was to place a collect call to Giles, letting him know she was alive. Giles could wire her money, send her an airline ticket, or call in some other contact that could help.
But, she might not be so lucky. Giles might not be home when she called, or something else could go wrong. If she didn’t have cold, hard cash, she needed something portable and valuable that she could exchange for cash. Buffy glanced at the bedside table, where the jeweler’s box lay, next to the dragonfly pins. Damn it, she liked those pins. Buffy fixed them back in her hair. A moment later, wrapped in the scarf, the necklace was settled in the bottom of her purse along with the hairpins, a small foldable hairbrush, and a tube of lipstick. She’d never get as much as the necklace was worth, if she had to pawn it or sell it, but it would surely bring her enough money get her off the island, and keep herself fed and housed until she got home.
And the dragonfly pins could probably fetch a few bucks, if it came to that.
Feeling more in control than she had in a long time, Buffy stepped onto the veranda–which Angelus had told her at some point was called a lanai, here in Hawaii–and took a deep breath of the flower-scented air. It smelled a lot like freedom.
Robert was still waiting by the Miata. It looked like he had hadn’t moved a muscle in the time she had spent getting dressed. Buffy spent a few minutes on the lanai, leaning out from the protective shade until she could feel the sunlight on her face. God, she missed the sun. Buffy closed her eyes, savoring the warmth, but she really didn’t have time to linger. If this worked, she was going to spend a week basking in the California sun. If not. . .
She refused to go there. Buffy straightened up, then walked down the steps leading to Mai’s apartment.
Mr. Sung opened the door with a polite bow before she was able to knock. Scary. Buffy gave him a polite smile and crossed the threshold.
Mai and Angelus were standing at the far end of the room, conversing in low voices. Angelus was holding a brandy snifter filled with blood. Mai, it seemed, was having orange juice. Seeing Buffy, Angelus grinned appreciatively, and extended a hand to her. The picture of obedience, Buffy returned his smile and took the offered hand, allowing him to draw her to his side. He pulled her close, his arm wrapping loosely, but possessively, about her waist. Mai gave her a cool smile, and offered her a glass identical to the one from which Mai herself was drinking. Buffy accepted it, took a deep swallow, and realized that some people did not consider 10:00 a.m. an ungodly hour at which to start drinking. Then again, Mai, whatever she was, wasn’t exactly people. It didn’t really matter, though. How drunk could she get on one Mimosa? Buffy took another drink as Angelus and Mai continued their conversation.
"I’m not sure that it is really necessary," he told Mai. "Buffy isn’t used to shopping that way, after all."
"It is not my lord’s intention that she should become used to it?" All but invisible from a few feet away, the white on white embroidery of Mai’s silk dress was dazzling when seen up close, especially against the woman’s–demon’s?–golden skin, her night-black hair and eyes.
"In time, Mai, in time. And, time is rather the issue right now. Are you certain your modiste can have things ready in time? We’re leaving in two more days."
"My lord, my servants would no more fail me, than would your own," Mai assured him. Buffy repressed the urge to roll her eyes at the fulsome speech. She wanted Mai to underestimate her, to relax her guard. Smart remarks wouldn’t do that, so Buffy kept her thoughts to herself, and played along.
"I’m going to get to go to a modiste?" she said ingenuously, as if the idea thrilled her. Well, it did. Or, it would have, under other circumstances. Shopping was fun. Shopping in an expensive store like Bloomingdale’s was more than fun, it was a rare treat. But, to go shopping in a private establishment where clothing was not tried on from a rack, but picked out from a model, and fitted to one personally–that was the stuff dreams were made of.
Too bad that Angelus was footing the bill, and the dream was more of a nightmare. Also, it put a bit of a crimp in her plans to find an alternative to her candy pink dress. . .but, she’d see how it played out.
Angelus smiled down at his mate. She was certainly worth the expense of a modiste, and her eagerness was charming. Of course, he was betting that part of her eagerness was due to what she probably saw as a possibility of escape. His darling girl wasn’t about to just give up. He had discussed the likelihood with Mai. The demoness, aware that she was dealing with a Slayer, had already taken that into account. Buffy would try the bars of her cage and find them as fast as ever, despite the illusion of freedom he would permit her to enjoy.
And, clever girl that she was, she would do the intelligent thing: she would recognize her limits, and content herself with the illusion he provided.
"The choice is yours, my love," he told her now. "I want you to enjoy your outing. There are shops and stores in Hanalei that you’d find vastly entertaining. But, Mai is right. A wardrobe designed for you personally might better suit your station as my mate."
"Can’t we do both?" Buffy asked, turning to face him. "I mean, see the shops, and what they have to offer in the morning, a nice lunch, then a trip to the modiste in the afternoon?"
"If that is your desire," Mai said, "although my lord had led me to believe you might prefer spending the afternoon on the private beach attached to this cottage. However, perhaps that can be managed afterward."
"Liking the beach idea," Buffy admitted truthfully. Who wouldn’t want to sunbathe on a private beach on Hawaii’s Garden Island? Too bad she had more important things to do. "But I didn’t see a bathing suit with my other things, so, unless your modiste can have one ready for me by this afternoon, I still think we should hit the regular shops, first. Plus, there’s other stuff. Girl stuff. Like sunblock with an SPF of 30 and another shade of lipstick."
"As you wish," Mai said, and left Angelus with Buffy while she gave Mr. Sung instructions to change the appointment that had been arranged for Buffy.
"So, how much are you giving me to spend?" Buffy asked the question that would have been foremost in her mind if she had really been about to indulge in a shopping trip.
"I’m not giving you a penny, darling," he said, amused. "Mai will take care of things."
"Meaning, I can spend as much as I want?" she said enthusiastically.
"Meaning that Mai will see to it that you don’t bankrupt me," he returned. Buffy pouted. He laughed and kissed her. In truth, she would have to work long and hard to bankrupt him. Before Angel had appeared on the scene, Angelus had spent one hundred and forty-five years establishing the kind of financial empire that would keep himself, Darla, Dru and Spike supplied with enough money to indulge their every whim. Angel had never gone anywhere near that money, despising it as the fruit of murder and worse, but in his absence, those whom Angelus had set in place as stewards of his wealth had done quite well by him. His reputation, even one hundred years after the fact, had been sufficient to keep those stewards honest, at least as concerned their dealings with the Scourge of Europe. Buffy could shop to her heart’s content without making an appreciable dent in his resources.
Mai waited for Angelus to break his kiss with Buffy before approaching them again. "Shall we go?"
"Sure," Buffy chirped, then turned back to Angelus for a final, parting kiss. She kept it brief, casual, the kind of kiss you gave your lover when you expected to be seeing him again in a few hours. She did not let herself dwell on the fact that, if she were lucky, it was likely to be the last kiss they ever exchanged.
Angelus could feel the suppressed excitement thrumming along his lover’s nerves as she gave him a brief, light kiss. Too bad he couldn’t put that excitement to better use. Ah, well, there would be other opportunities. He held her tight, making the kiss a little harder and a little longer than she had planned, delighting in the way her resistance melted, and she began to mold against him as he prolonged the moment. Satisfied, he let her go, then walked with her outside, where the protective shade of the lanai ensured that he was in no danger.
Robert opened the passenger’s door for Buffy, and she slid inside. As she fastened her seatbelt, Robert walked around the car and opened the driver’s side for Mai. It seemed an awful waste to have had the guy standing around in the heat just to make sure Buffy didn’t make a break for it, but Angelus was nothing if not thorough. She couldn’t let that intimidate her. As Mai fastened her own seatbelt, and turned the key in the ignition, Buffy turned to wave jauntily at Angelus, where he stood in the shade, and blew him an airy, entirely impudent kiss. His laughter followed her as the Miata headed down the drive to the highway waiting behind the screening jungle.
- 16
- 17
- 18
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The Silken Cage: Journey