Independence Day

//My country ‘tis of thee//

Buffy sighed and scowled at Giles, who was not paying attention to her histrionics over the fact that she had to patrol when there were barbecues to attend. And food to eat. And fireworks to oooh and ahhh over.

//sweet land of liberty//

"This is not a revelation to you, Buffy. Slayers do not..."

"...get holidays," she finished for him. "And neither do Watchers," she said pointedly, eyeing the invitation on his desk to a Fourth of July party.

"I am not attending the barbecue. It would be wrong of me to do so when my Slayer does not have that option." He looked at her over the tops of his glasses, and then turned back to his books.

//of thee I sing//

"Now that’s just downright noble of you," Buffy said irritably. "How selfless. How utterly thoughtful and honorable. How..."

Giles cleared his throat and stared at her. "Patrol, please. Then back here for training. Go."

She didn’t say another word, just picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder. Stomping toward the table, she snatched an extra stake and picked up several colored ink markers. Giles watched her curiously as she set about coloring the stake, and when she was done she held it up for his perusal.

He couldn’t help cracking a smile at her artwork. She had colored the top half of the stake blue, and had drawn a dozen little white stars on it, and then she had striped the bottom half red and white. It was a very good re-creation of the American flag.

"Lovely," he told her. "It will make a vampire feel privileged to be dusted by it."

Buffy didn’t reply, merely jammed the stake into the holster at her waist and marched to the door. She had reached it and was about to push it open when Giles called to her. "Buffy."

Turning, she put her hands on her hips and glared. "Yes?"

"Do I need to remind you of the specific danger?"

In her anger and frustration, she was harsher than intended. "What, you can’t even say his name? If I can say it, surely you can."

He was calm in the face of her onslaught. "Please be careful and watchful of Angelus. Although he has been strangely absent lately, that does not mean that he won’t reappear at any time."

"I am not afraid of him any more. Do you understand me? Not any more."

"Are you convincing me? Or yourself?"

She snorted delicately, and left in a huff.

*****

//land where my fathers died//

Buffy idly trailed her fingers over a marble headstone as she walked through the silent cemetery. It was quiet, quiet, quiet. Even the demons took a break on holidays, it seemed, knowing that people were safely ensconced in their homes or in large groups. Made killing that much harder, on holidays, so the demons stayed relatively quiet. Of course, there were always the new ones who didn’t yet know their ass from their elbow, and were always trying to make some kind of trouble somewhere. Those were the ones she was on the lookout for.

The slight smell of charcoal was in the air, making Buffy wistful. The others, save Giles, were in Willow’s backyard, stuffing themselves silly with food and lighting those ridiculous little sparkler things that everyone said were lame, but everyone secretly liked to watch. And then, in about another twenty minutes, the fireworks display at the high school would start, and they would all lay on their backs in the grass and exclaim delightedly over the brilliant show in the sky.

Damn them.

Buffy plopped herself forlornly down in the grass and leaned against the headstone, watching the darkening sky. At least she would be able to see the fireworks from here. She checked her watch. It was close to nine o’ clock. Almost time.

If he hadn’t been careless and stepped on a twig, snapping it with his foot, he would have been upon her before she had time to even look around. But she heard him behind her, giving herself the chance to spring from the ground to face him.

Angelus did not say a word, merely lifted his eyebrows at her and grinned a beautiful, charming grin, the same grin that had enticed hundreds of women for hundreds of years.

Buffy was only slightly affected by it. Her shining, pure love that she had had for Angel had died with him. This was not Angel, this was a stranger with Angel’s face, and she was strong enough and independent enough to withstand the temptation he presented. This was not Angel. Angel was dead.

But oh, was he beautiful.

Angelus leaned casually on the headstone, cocking his head mischievously.

"Poor Slayer," he commented. "Never gets to have fun."

"Fun? This is fun," Buffy replied flippantly. "Come over here so I can kill you. Then I’ll be having even more fun."

He chuckled appreciatively. "I know something we can do that really qualifies as fun." His tongue came out to touch his bottom lip seductively.

Immediately Buffy felt herself grow wet at his suggestion. There was no pretending she did not understand his meaning. His whole persona exuded sex. He was an entirely sexual being from head to toe. He smelled of it. And he wanted her.

Did she want him, as well? Undoubtedly. She shifted uncomfortably, and immediately he sensed her arousal. His nostrils flared slightly, smelling her musk, smelling the blood that was suddenly singing through her, and he pushed off from the headstone and walked toward her.

Buffy’s lack of fear was perhaps dangerous, but she didn’t care. Her eyes traveled to the prominent bulge in his pants, the moonlight glinting off the leather, and when he was standing less than six inches from her, she met his eyes.

There was obsession in the dark depths. No love, no tenderness. He did not love her. If anything, Buffy was wise enough to know that he perhaps hated her and he could not help it. It was predetermined that the vampire would hate the vampire Slayer, and also predetermined that the Slayer hold no feelings for vampires except to want them dead. No, she did not see love in his eyes, and knew he saw nothing in hers. But she saw desire, and temptation, and did not resist it.

Growling, he took her chin in his hand and brought it up to his mouth, his other hand coming abruptly to her breast. He smiled in satisfaction when he found the nipple already protruding, and she whimpered into his mouth when he squeezed roughly. His other hand came down to fit over her other breast, and he molded both of them into his big palms, being neither gentle nor careful.

It didn’t matter. Buffy did not want gentleness, she wanted relief from her ache, and although she was, on some level, distressed that Angelus was giving it to her, she also knew that there was not anyone else alive that would suffice.

Buffy leaned her weight against him and he in turn leaned back against the headstone, sliding his hands around to cup her backside and pull her up against him firmly. Urgently, insistently, she rubbed up against him, trying to push her crotch into the firm hardness. She could hear him snarl as she did it, and then felt his face changing under her mouth.

Her tongue darted out to explore his fangs, feeling the length and sharpness of them, marveling at how different they felt from her own short incisors. She lifted a hand to touch the ridges at his forehead, feeling them ripple, and then he grabbed her hand and brought it down between them.

"Unzip," he grated out, pushing her hand against his hardness, and when she cupped it firmly in her palm, he threw his head back. Quickly she unzipped him, springing him free into her hand, and she started to lower his pants but he stopped her.

"Don’t undress me," he snarled. "Undressing is for lovers."

"What are we?" Buffy asked, curious.

He didn’t, or couldn’t, answer, so she dropped the subject, interested only in his long, thick cock springing from his pants, jerking slightly every time she brushed against it. She dropped to her knees and he gave a muffled gasp as she enveloped him in her mouth, laving him with her tongue and scraping him gently with her teeth. He began to thrust insistently, and she took him easily, tasting the slight tang of pre-ejaculate. She pulled back to circle just the velvet head, using her hand to encompass him while she sucked insistently. She reached under to cup the soft sack, squeezing his balls lightly, and he began to tense up under her.

Roughly, he pulled her up by her hair, ignoring her short yelp of pain. Angelus yanked down Buffy’s shorts and underwear in one swift motion, baring his fangs again when he smelled her renewed wetness, and without warning, inserted a cool finger into her passage.

Her knees buckled unexpectedly, so intense was the feeling, but Angelus caught her with one hand as the other hand moved in and out of her. He realized that she was slippery with her own moisture, and a slight trickle was inching down her leg, and he knew that to waste that would be sinful. Quickly he withdrew and lifted her so she was sitting astride him, as he supported both of their weight by the headstone.

Buffy immediately wrapped both legs about his waist as she felt his cock poking at her entrance. Lifting her hips just slightly, the tip of him slid in, and she wanted to weep with the pleasure.

It was then that the first of the fireworks began. Exploding into the dark sky with a low rumble, a shower of green rain fell from a bright skyflower. The noise startled them both, and Buffy came down firmly onto Angelus’s shaft, eliciting a groan from both of them.

She gripped him tightly around the neck as the sky lit up above them. Yellow, red, and purple rockets showered the couple with petals of light and sound, the heavy thundering booms coming in time with Angelus’s thrusts and Buffy’s gasps. Buffy realized that he was drawing out of her slowly, waiting for the next firework to explode, and when it did, he thrusted back into her roughly, using the deep rumbling boom to time himself.

He drew out the torture for long minutes, and when Buffy opened her eyes to look at him, she found him staring entranced at the sky even as he pulled out and slid back into her. Finally, blessedly, the black sky was lit with hundreds of skyflowers at once, signaling the end of the show, and it was then that Angelus turned his attention fully to Buffy. He slid a practiced hand in between them, using his thumb and forefinger to encircle his shaft when he came out of her, and using his pinky to exert just the right amount of pressure on her tiny bud.

It worked, and as the sky grew dark again, leaving only wispy smoke, Buffy felt herself begin to shudder with climax. She jerked against him, tightening her inner muscles, and it caused Angelus to reach his release as well. He thrusted into her savagely, and without warning, sank his teeth deeply into her shoulder. He suckled hard at the wound, and Buffy let him do it, instinctively knowing that he would not kill her. She could feel him tense inside her, then felt the cool seed spurting deeply as he fed from her shoulder.

He withdrew in time for her to be able to slide down and stand without assistance, the blood loss small enough that she did not feel lightheaded. Avoiding his eyes, she yanked up her pants and looked around for her pack.

When she finally did chance to look at him, he too had casually pulled up his pants and was leaning back against the headstone, licking the corners of his mouth. Gone was the face of the vampire, and only the face of the angel remained in the moonlight.

//land of the pilgrim’s pride//

"That makes for a liberating Fourth, if I may say," he remarked, watching her shrug her pack onto her shoulder.

"Go away," Buffy replied tiredly. Now that her desire had been sated, she once again felt the old anger bubbling up at her enemy.

//from every mountainside//

"Buffy?" Angelus asked softly.

She looked at him.

He leaned forward, as if to tell her a secret, and said quietly, "I’m never going away." And with that, he walked back through the cemetery the way he had came, and Buffy could hear him whistling "America the Beautiful."

She squinted through the trees after him, noticing something that he had tucked into the back waistband of his pants.

Her stake, the white stars winking at her in the darkness.

//let freedom ring.//