Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

The Silken Cage: Journey	By : margotlefaye Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Angel(us)/Buffy > Angel(us)/Buffy Views: 21218 -:- 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
- 7
- 8
- 9
She knew when they docked. She could feel the difference in the way the ship moved, and she could smell the difference in the air filtering into their cabin. The omnipresent smell of the sea was overlain with other smells, land smells, odors of flowers and of green, growing things. Buffy had not realized how much she missed such homely odors.
But her pleasure in those simple things was mixed with dread. The day she had been waiting for was finally here…and she was by no means certain she was ready for it. Docking meant that she was about to get a chance at freedom, one which she didn't dare waste. But she had to go carefully. Her strength was compromised and Angelus surely had to suspect that if she were going to try to escape him, now would be the time.
And how could he doubt she meant to escape?
Oh, he had made her want him as badly as she had ever wanted Angel. She went willingly into his arms whenever he beckoned. But she was still the Slayer. She still had a sacred duty which demanded that she free herself and take up her calling once more. What better opportunity would she have than now, when they were making their last landfall still in US territory? He had to know that she would try something, just as she knew that, whatever he knew or suspected, she had no choice but to act. She would simply have to be more careful than ever. She couldn't afford to fail, this time. Her last attempt had ended disastrously…and not nearly as disastrously as it might have. Angelus had been amused. If he had been truly angered, she might be dead…or worse. She trembled as she realized that, if she did fail, she might find herself dead or turned this very day.
Right now, Angelus was not amused. It had started when he'd gone for his daily bag of blood. The day before, he had grimaced as he'd swallowed it down, but had said nothing. Buffy thought it might have been tainted with something like the steroids the Sunnydale High swim team had been taking in her junior year, and didn't think much of it. Today, though, he'd growled in disgust after the first mouthful, and discarded the rest of the bag, pulling another out of the refrigerator. Which fared no better than the first.
"Spoiled," he grumbled, tossing it into the trash. "I'll have to replace the whole damned lot while we're here."
Which meant that he was going to be hungry, and would want to hunt. It might also mean he would be just a little edgy, just a little careless. Which just might provide the opportunity she had been seeking. Buffy tried to remain calm, pushing her fear aside and concentrating on the issue at hand. She needed more information if she was going to come up with a feasible plan.
"Where, exactly, is here?" she asked, plumping the pillows behind herself as she sat up in bed.
"Hawaii," he said, confirming her earlier guess as he began to rummage through the dresser for fresh clothes. Buffy watched him, admiring, despite herself, the play of his muscles as he moved about the cabin. He was evil incarnate, wicked and vicious… and still the most purely beautiful creature she had ever seen.
"Hawaii is a large state," she continued. "All those islands." Not all of them heavily populated, which might prove critical in the course of her escape. "Which one are we on?"
"What does it matter?" he said as he pulled out a pair of dark dress socks and a clean undershirt, tossing them casually onto the bed beside her, where a pair of black slacks was already waiting. "We aren't going to be here long."
"You mean you weren't planning on taking me to a luau?" she said dryly. He glanced over at her, eyes glinting. She was so lovely, so young and so utterly transparent. Did she think he couldn't guess what she was trying to do? However much he might have made her crave his touch, she was still one of the strongest, most resourceful and courageous Slayers there had ever been, and it was inevitable that she would try to escape him now. That she would fail was a given: he would never let her go. But it would be so delicious to watch that failure, to see the look of torment that crossed her face when she realized that he had, once more, defeated her. And, of course, her rebellion would give him all the excuse he needed to punish her.
He wondered how much pain he could make her feel and still force her to orgasm? Not anything damaging, of course. Such rough sport could wait for a long, long time, perhaps until he turned her and she had the endurance for it…and the vampiric taste for it as well. Such a delicious prospect to look forward to. But that was for the future. For the moment, he had better answer her questions, perhaps tease her, raising the possibility that he wouldn't let her off the ship until they reached Japan.
"What makes you think I was planning on taking you anywhere at all?" he drawled. "I pretty much like you just where you are; naked, in my bed."
Buffy licked her lips, thinking quickly. Every day she remained in Angelus' power, her strength declined and her chances of success diminished. It had never occurred to her that he wouldn't take advantage of their docking to go ashore, if for no other reason than to have a fresh kill, instead of the refrigerated blood he'd been living on. If that blood was spoiled, he had even more reason to leave the ship. Ideally, she would be able to stake him before he hurt anyone, preferably while they were moving from ship to shore and his attention was distracted. But in her weakened state, she was prioritizing her need simply to get away from Angelus, whether or not she managed to kill him. Not because you are afraid that you can't kill him, her inner voice mocked. She ignored it, concentrating on the immediate problem. If they weren't going ashore, her opportunities would be limited. She'd have to find a way to either kill or elude Angelus and escape from the ship. Not impossible, though a long way from her first choice. Angelus was going to be damned hard to elude and nearly impossible to kill. But whatever she hoped to accomplish, the odds were better for her on land, where she could disappear quickly, leaving the ship, Angelus, and his paid lackeys behind. To even have a shot at doing that, she needed to convince him to take her ashore.
"Well, as beds go, this one isn't the most comfortable," she said in a tone she hoped was suitably casual. "And I thought you'd want to take me someplace because you're as bored by being cooped up here as I am."
"Bored?" he said thoughtfully, pausing as he looked through several neatly folded shirts. "Is that what you've been, Buff?" He had to give her points for perseverance. He had thrown a hitch into her escape plans, and she was trying to unhitch them. Of course he would let her…but not quite yet.
Angelus put down the shirts and walked the few steps to the bed. Buffy shifted uneasily on the mattress, pulling the covers further up over her breasts protectively. He smirked, noticing her discomfiture, and did not stop until he was leaning above her, hands braced against the headboard. She was looking up at him, hazel eyes huge, full lower lip trembling just a bit. He couldn't resist the temptation to lean down and lick his tongue across that lip. Delicious. She gave a tiny moan, and he pressed his mouth against hers. "You've been bored?" he said mockingly against her lips.
"Bad choice of words?" she sighed back.
He chuckled and kissed her again. It was inevitable that he didn't stop there, but pressed her back against the pillows, pulling the covers from her body, until there was nothing between them. Her thighs parted for him even as he parted her lips for the invasion of his tongue, and a moment later he slid into her welcoming, wet depths in one swift, powerful thrust. She moaned against his mouth, lifting her hips to meet him, taking him deeper, tightening around him, her arms sliding around his neck so she could tangle her hands in his hair.
She was afraid she loved him, she admitted to herself as she returned his feverish kisses. The distinction between Angelus, the demon and Angel, the soul had become too blurred for her to follow these past endless days. Demon or soul, it was the same mouth she kissed, the same hands which caressed her, the same body possessing hers. Both of them elicited responses from her that no one else could. And both of them, she now understood, loved her absolutely, if in very different ways.
The only distinction that remained was that she would die to protect Angel, but she would die trying to kill Angelus before she allowed him to slaughter more innocents. That hadn't been an issue on the ship, while he drank packaged blood. But she wasn’t about to let him feed on anyone living, if it was in her power to stop him. She acknowledged that it might not be in her power at all, but she was going to at least make the attempt to take him down.
Such thoughts fled her mind as he thrust deeply inside her, making her cry out in pleasure. So knowing his touch. So skilled his hands, coaxing her nipples into tight buds, the better to tempt his cool mouth, before those skilled hands found their way between her thighs and teased her into an even more avid, more desperate reception of his body within her own. She arched against him, her breast pressed into his mouth, her hips rising to meet his, to offer more of herself than he had already taken. Her hands pressed his head closer, encouraged him to suckle harder. He growled appreciatively. Her responsiveness was so damned arousing, he could feel himself grow yet harder for her, swelling inside the silken prison of her soft flesh. The pressure building inside him was an almost unbearably sweet agony. He thrust harder inside her, ravishing her willing body, reveling in the feel of her tightening around him, embracing him intimately. There was nothing in his unlife to compare to the feel of being inside Buffy…
She felt herself begin to come apart, and clung to him as if only he could protect her from the ensuing chaos. Climax washed over her, hard and fast, and she screamed his name. He left off suckling her breast and his mouth claimed hers again as he swallowed her cries. As it often did, her pleasure triggered his own, and he quickly spilled inside her, his deep guttural moans mingling with her breathy cries. They strained together for several long delicious moments, until, passion spent, he collapsed upon her.
Buffy was reluctant to let him go. As she lay beneath him, relishing the feel of him pressing her into the mattress, she was keenly aware that if she succeeded, this might well be the last time she would hold him so. In a few hours he might be dust. It was what she wanted, what she had to do. But she thought she had never hated being the Slayer so much as she did at that moment.
She clung to him, and it was not lost on him that she held him a bit more tightly, and for a bit longer, than usual. Reluctant, my love? he wondered. Your Slayer's honor demands that you try to get away at the first opportunity, but you don't really want to leave, do you? The thought pleased him vastly, and he tightened his arms about her. A pity he didn't have time to give her even more reason not to leave him. After a few minutes he kissed her again and pulled away. He sat on the side of the bed, reaching for the clothes that had fallen to the floor during their lovemaking.
"We're on Kauai," he told her then as he began to pull on his socks and slacks. "And we'll be leaving the ship as soon as you're dressed."
Buffy looked at him in surprise.
"But you said–"
"We have a three day layover, which is damned unusual for a freighter. Normally, the range is eighteen to thirty-six hours, but the captain has some private business to handle, and the cargo he's carrying through to the Orient isn't perishable. I thought I'd take advantage of the situation. I may not be bored–I've had longer journeys in worse conditions and with far less entertaining companions–" Buffy blushed at his smirk, as his eyes raked over her nude body. "But I do need to…stretch my legs."
Buffy shivered slightly. She had caught the hesitation in his voice and knew he had changed what he'd started to say. Even in her weakened state, he didn't want to tell her that he needed to kill, but she wasn't deceived. He was like some big, feral cat, restless in captivity. Vampires were supreme predators and none more so than Angelus. For him, the hunt wasn't simply a means to the end of feeding but an end in itself. He enjoyed selecting and stalking his prey, enjoyed the physical challenge of tracking and overpowering his chosen victims. The first time he had turned–she'd read enough about that in the Watcher's Diaries to know that he wasn't content to go after attractive young women, or scavenge from the homeless and destitute who had been found in abundance on the streets of most major cities for most of the centuries he'd lived through. No, Angelus wanted prey that had a chance to fight back and escape. Not that they ever succeeded. But that was because no matter how good they were, he was better, not because he hadn't selected the strongest, smartest and fastest.
Perhaps that explained, in part, why the demon was as attracted to her as was the soul. Because she had the potential to fight him back. A potential she had better realize to the full. Buffy said nothing further, but left the bed and headed for the bathroom to clean up.
Angelus quickly packed everything they would be needing for their brief stay. He was going to have to prevent her from making her escape attempt just yet. Once she openly defied him, he would have to punish her, and he had other plans for their interlude on the island. He did not examine why he had made those particular plans, any more than he examined why he needed her to find pleasure in his arms when his own pleasure was all that mattered. As he never examined why he, the Scourge of Europe, a vampire of such fearsome repute that he could have any female demon on the face of the planet as his mate, had chosen to make the girl who should have been his mortal enemy his immortal mate. No, such considerations were unimportant. What was important was that Buffy was his and that he would never let her go. It was unthinkable that she should escape him, and therefore, he would prevent it from happening. She would fight him, and the demon in him appreciated that, even enjoyed it, though the lover in him resented her defiance and longed to put a permanent end to it. One thing only was clear: alive or dead, on Earth or in Hell, Buffy would spend the rest of eternity in his arms.
Buffy was unaware of his dark musings, as she hurriedly went about getting ready to leave her prison. Angelus had set out a simple white sheath dress for her to wear, along with a pair of bikini cut white panties and a strapless lace bra. The slip for the dress was another eyelet cotton, similar to the one she'd worn a few days before, cooler and more comfortable than commercial lycra or nylon. This time he had also provided hose and shoes, as well as a small purse. He really had planned this out. She shivered, hoping he hadn't planned so well that she would be defeated before she started. She shook off the pessimistic thoughts. The last thing in the world she needed right now was to dwell on how small her chances of success were, or on the probable consequences of failure. If she let herself think about those things, she might well end up curled in a little ball of gibbering terror in the corner of the shower, and never come out. She was the Slayer, she reminded herself, and made of sterner stuff.
Buffy showered quickly, her mind racing even more quickly. She didn't have anything remotely resembling a stake, but they were bound to walk down some sort of gangplank to the shore. Would he have a vehicle waiting for them, or were they headed someplace close by? Would they be by themselves, or would she be surrounded by his minions? Finally, would she be better off trying to escape immediately, or would he be prepared for that? Might it not be wiser to wait until they returned, when she could hope that her docility had lulled him into an overconfidence she could use to her advantage? Or are you just getting cold feet at the thought of killing your lover? she demanded of herself. It was a question she couldn't answer. She pushed it aside as irrelevant. What was clear was that she didn't have enough information to do a lot of advanced planning. She'd simply have to think on her feet. Which was, after all, her stock in trade.
Comforting herself with that thought, Buffy stepped from the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, drying off and dressing herself in a matter of minutes. She brushed her hair out, then pinned it up in a becoming knot that was suitable for the humid warmth of the island…and would keep her hair out of her eyes during combat. She checked her appearance a final time in the mirror, slipped the brush into her purse, then left the bathroom.
He was fully dressed when she got out. Buffy noticed that there were two bags packed and waiting on the bed. He stood facing her, looking cool and gorgeous in a lightweight jacket and white shirt, open at the neck. He might have been advertising the latest in men's casual summer attire for Details magazine. He seemed to approve her appearance as well.
"Almost perfect," he said.
"Almost?" she queried with raised brows. He gave her an amused smile, pulling a small blue box from his jacket pocket. He wondered how she would react to its contents. Not well, he suspected. But that only made it more amusing.
"Just needs one finishing touch," he said. "Come here."
Eyeing the box warily, she approached. When she stood next to him, he opened the box and she drew in a shocked breath. Angelus smirked down at her. He had gone to a lot of trouble to get this made to his specifications in the brief time he had remained in LA after killing Kate. He had wanted it to be perfect. Her reaction was all he had hoped it would be.
"No," she said instinctively backing away. He thought her exquisite in her sorrow. More than ever, he wanted his hold over her proclaimed to the world.
"You will wear it," he said softly, the threat unmistakable for all that. Her gaze flew to his, as she fought back tears. His dark eyes were merciless, but she had to try to find some mercy in him.
"Angel gave me a claddagh. How can you expect me to wear one from you?"
"You're forgetting what the claddagh means, lover: that you belong to someone, that you're taken. When we leave this ship, I want it perfectly clear that you are taken." I want the whole damned world, human and vampire, to know that you are mine, he thought.
"You don't need that," she insisted. He felt a brief triumph. Did she realize what she had just said?
"Why, lover, I'm touched. You admit you belong to me."
She looked away, unable to meet his burning gaze. Angelus was delighted. She indeed knew whose she was. He came closer, making up the step she had taken away from him.
"Stop fighting me, Buff," he said, his voice almost gentle. "You know you won't win. Give me your hand and let me put the ring on."
She wanted to resist him in this. It seemed yet another violation. But she was close to making her bid for freedom. If she fought him now, she might lose her opportunity. Wordlessly, she held out her hand.
He slid the band of cool metal onto the ring finger of her left hand. Angel's ring had been sterling silver, but Angelus was never one for understatement. This ring was white gold, and the heart was formed from an emerald. Diamond chips flashed in the crown. The point faced toward her, announcing that she was indeed taken. It was beautiful and unquestionably expensive. But it wasn't a token of love, so much as of possession. Where Angel's simple ring had proclaimed that she was his by virtue of his love for her, Angelus' more ornate ring proclaimed that she was his by virtue of what he was willing to expend in order to keep her. One ring was the symbol of a marriage, even if only a spiritual rather than legal union. The other ring was a symbol of enslavement.
Angelus looked down at the band of gold he'd placed on her finger, his claim on her made physical, and expressed in a way the world could appreciate. The ring proclaimed her as his mate, his wife, and it gave him a savage satisfaction to see it there. She was his, she had always been his. Now, everyone who saw her would know that, as well.
He was still holding on to her hand, she realized after a moment. She looked at him questioningly. He smirked, raising her hand to his lips and kissing the ring he had just placed on her finger. She shivered, remembering how she had kissed Angel's ring that night on the docks. She could tell that he was remembering that moment as well. Another memory tainted, another passionate gesture between herself and Angel recast in Angelus' image. Just how many times was her heart supposed to break, anyway?
Finished toying with her, Angelus used his hold on her hand to slip her arm through his own, then led her out the doorway. Buffy was not surprised to see a sailor waiting on the other side. The man entered the room they had just left, reemerging a moment later with their bags.
This was her first glimpse of the ship outside their cabin. They were in a narrow hallway, and she could see stairs at either end. She was a bit surprised when Angel took her down a flight, instead of up, until they emerged onto the deck.
The freighter they were on was a small ship of the container variety. The deck was divided into numerous sections, or containers, filled with goods. They walked down a narrow stretch of deck between the containers, headed for the metal gangplank leading to land. It was dusk, rather than full dark. Although the light was indirect, and no danger to a vampire, it was still ample. Beyond the docks that were almost identical to those in Sunnydale and probably a million other ports around the world, Buffy had a magnificent view of lava cliffs towering in the distance beyond a jungle of Eden-like lushness. She appeared to focus on that vista when in fact she was rapidly calculating distances and possibilities. Could she pull herself up one of the compartments? Would she be able make a run for freedom from atop the maze of containers? A winch ahead of her was idle, waiting to assist in unloading the next round of goods. Did she have the strength to leap up to it, and could she use it to strike at Angelus? Would she be better off trying to push him off the gangplank as they made their descent to land?
Angelus was keenly aware of the tension in the small body at his side. This opportunity to escape would be one she could not pass up. He could almost hear the thoughts in her head as she considered and discarded possible options. Any moment now, and she would choose.
And he would stop her.
Buffy was aware that her heart was racing and hoped desperately that he couldn't hear it, that she wouldn't give herself away. She had just decided that the winch was her best bet when the opportunity was snatched from her.
He knew the moment she decided. He could feel her muscles tighten as she gathered herself to act. Angelus abruptly stopped, turned and lifted her into his arms.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, her arms going instinctively around his neck to help her keep her balance. She had been just a few steps away from the winch, anticipating the way she would have to jump, the feel of the cold metal in her hands, when she had suddenly been swept off her feet.
"Making sure you get to land safely," he answered blandly. "Between the rolling of the ship, and the way the drugs weaken you, you're apt to be unsteady on your feet. I wouldn't want you falling and hurting yourself."
His words were innocent, but his eyes mocked her. She was certain that he knew she had planned to escape him. But she could hardly tax him with that, could she?
"I'm touched," she said sarcastically, anger and frustration making her less than cautious. Knowing exactly why she was so waspish, he chuckled unpleasantly.
He held on to her even after they reached land.
Buffy relaxed into the arms holding her. He had been, as she had suspected, prepared for her to try to get away. There was nothing she could do right now.
Nothing you want to do, anyway, her inner voice whispered. Buffy defended herself to her conscience. There would be a better opportunity when they returned. She would be utterly docile while they were here, utterly attentive and devoted. Let him think that he had won her over, that his love making had so enthralled her, that she no longer wanted to escape him.
Is that so far from the truth? She refused to consider that unpleasant thought. Stubbornly, she clung to the hope that if she could just convince him that she was truly helpless and needy, he would let down his guard and she would have another opportunity to escape.
Angelus had reached the bottom of the gangway and continued walking toward the end of the pier. Curious, Buffy glanced ahead. She wasn't really surprised that the car meeting them was a limo, with dark windows and a burly chauffeur who looked more like a bodyguard than a driver. The chauffeur opened the door to the limo and Angelus settled Buffy into her seat while the sailor who had followed them from the ship took their bags to be stowed in the trunk. Angelus was in the seat beside her before she realized that they were not alone. A couple was seated opposite them, a Hawaiian man who appeared to be about Giles' age, and a stunningly beautiful Eurasian woman who might have been any age at all. The man was dressed in a white linen business suit, and could have passed as the wealthy CEO of some important corporation. The woman was dressed in a deeply blue silk sheath lovingly hand embroidered with delicate seed pearls. If he was a CEO, she was a trophy wife, a gorgeous decoration to be admired, but not taken seriously.
That illusion was shattered almost immediately. As ever in the murky world of vampires and demons, nothing was quite what it seemed. It was the woman who spoke, her voice soft and cultured and sensuous.
"It is an honor to greet you at last, my lord," she said to Angelus. "Welcome to Kauai."
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Silken Cage: Journey