Title: Wolf Pack
Chapter Title: The Survival
Author: Baby Blues
E-mail: purely_blissful@hotmail.com
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, but the story is.
Summary: The Slayer Clan gradually accepts Angelus when he organizes the family with a place to call home.
Dedication: To my dad, whose snores wake me up at exactly 6 in the morning, making alarm clocks as useless as mosquitoes.
Excerpt:
Wesley: Why do you fight him, child? He's a good man and werewolf, a powerful and worthy leader. He has put a strong roof over our heads, given us jobs that has good pay, and he has given us hope that we will survive.
Buffy: Anyone could've done it.
Wesley: Could you? . . . Could I? . . . Even more so . . . could Spike?
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Soon enough, the entire pack moved into a large mansion on Crawford Street. It was far enough from the main part of town to hide their secret identities, and close enough not to pull too much suspicion from the villagers.
Everyone in the pack began praising Angelus after he found all the adults jobs around town. Some of the employment even went as far as to LA which was only less than an hour drive from Sunnydale. It was amazing that only after less than two months, he had the family well organized.
Buffy settled into her new room which was conveniently, and as expected, right next to Angelus' Master Bedroom. He did it on purpose. Instead of assigning a room on the South Wing along with the other young women of the pack, he had to put her room right next to his. It was fitting, and completely Angelus.
And even though she just met him and continually avoided him as much as possible, it seemed as though Buffy knew more about him everyday . . . just thinking abut him and watching him.
It was eerie . . . and fascinating. To know he was frustrated and tired whenever his dark eyes darkened even more as he searched through the internet and newspapers about jobs that suited the individuals of the pack. To know he just wanted to kill someone whenever he was venting his silent stress on punching bags downstairs in the basement or in his study room. But through all this pressure, he did it alone, and Buffy wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and comfort and sooth him as he went through the strain of taking care of the pack.
Buffy walked casually out of her bedroom and down the hall, stopping in front of the double French doors of Angelus' large study room. The computer was on, papers were scattered everywhere, and the trashcan overflowed with paper. He stood in the far left, punching a bag with a violent force and concentration. He looked so powerful and completely male as sweat dripped from his naked chest, his sweatpants almost clinging to his legs as he continued on with his assault on the innocent punching bag.
She looked away, fighting the urge to continue watching him. And with a defeated sigh, she headed down the stairs, intent on staying away from him for the rest of the day if she didn't want to kiss him senseless whenever she saw him.
She shook her head. "Elizabeth Summers-Giles, you are so screwed," she said softly to herself.
Angelus had felt her gaze on him the moment she stood outside the study. It heated him to know that he could feel her presence without using any of his natural senses. He just knew. It must have come from the fact that they were now bonded as mates . . . and if only she would take that to the next level and make it official. To be married in the name of 'God' in the human world, and the name of the Moon Goddess in the werewolf world, to sleep in the same bed, and for her to carry his child and finally become part of the Slayer Clan through blood and bond.
He gave the bag a hard punch from the left.
Angelus had gone through some rough roads in his life, but being pack leader has been taking a lot out of him. The responsibility and all that shit . . . but he never stooped low. He never complained or whined about all his troubles, he just continued on even when the stress of it all felt like a huge marble stone on his back.
If only he had the pretty blond by his side (and bed) to make the pain go away. But no . . . the girl was too stubborn and proud to even give a hint of feeling, fondness and care, towards him. And if she did hold any such feelings, she denied it and hid it from him and everyone else.
He kicked the bag.
But he would wait for her to come around . . . he had to.
She was definitely tough, but he wasn't about to back down from the challenge of it either. She had caused something to flare inside of him. It should scare him, but it just made him wonder what it was all about.
It had been a great challenge to win the battle, and to lead the pack . . . and now, all he had to do was to officially win his mate. How? Well . . . he'll think of something.
Buffy found Wesley meditating peacefully in the living room of the mansion. His eyes closed, his legs crossed together, and his chin tilted upwards.
"Why haven't you taken to him?" he suddenly asked, his eyes still shut.
"What?" Buffy asked curiously as she sat down on a couch in front of him.
"The young man, Elizabeth."
"I don't want him," she said through clenched teeth.
"It's already been decided."
"I didn't decide anything."
"Our Mother has resolved it, child. Our Goddess Moon has destined you and Angelus for each other. You cannot fight her power . . . you cannot fight destiny," he said wisely.
"But I can avoid it," Buffy said with determination.
"Why do you fight him, child? He's a good man and werewolf, a powerful and worthy leader. He has put a strong roof over our heads, given us jobs that has good pay, and he has given us hope that we will survive," he told her.
"Anyone could've done it," she said, her chin high in the air.
Wesley's eyes opened. "Could you?" he asked curiously. "Could I?" He smiled slightly, "Even more so . . . could Spike?"
Buffy's gaze dropped to the floor in thought. As usual, Wesley was right. No one in their pack would've been able to be leader. First of all, Buffy was a young woman . . . even if she was male, she knew she wouldn't survive the pressure of being pack leader. Wesley was too old . . . and Spike . . . he was strong willed and powerful, but he was irresponsible.
"Go to him, child," Wesley said, closing his eyes once again, "At least accept him. He's one of us now."
She was dismissed and she obeyed, getting up from the couch. Angelus really was one of them now. He had been accepted by the pack, impressing them with his leadership skills and organization. He had taken control and made sure everyone knew he was creditable and in control. He laid down his authority when Spike decided to rebel against him along with Xander. Their punishment was two weeks out in the woods on their own. The two young males didn't rebel after that.
It might sound cruel, but Angelus had to lay down his own law. He had to be respected as well as feared to lead a pack, especially a pack like theirs.
Angelus continued to punish his punching bag when Buffy entered his domain with a silver tray. He stopped and watched her place it on a coffee table.
"Afternoon," he greeted, panting from the workout.
She nodded at him. "I brought you some lunch," she said, indicating the tray of food.
"Thank you," he said sincerely as he walked towards her. He smirked when she stepped back, hands clasped together behind her back as she looked around the study room nervously. "I'm not going to bite, love."
That earned him a glare, causing his grin to widen at the fact that such simple retorts from him could make her blood boil. "I like the mansion," she ground out, trying to change the subject.
He nodded, amusement still written on his face, "I like it too. I'm glad the past owners kept the place up until someone bought it. The place would've been a disaster area if they hadn't done so."
"It's lovely. And the antique furniture that came with the house," Buffy added.
Angelus gulped down a bottled-water as he studied her form. She was dressed in a knee length skirt the color of her eyes, and a white top that showed off her creamy shoulders. Her dainty feet were adorned with a woven pair of platform sandals that strapped around her ankles. She was undeniably . . . stunning.
"Why did you really come up here?" he asked with a gentle smile.
Buffy straightened. "What? I can't be nice?" she asked defensively.
Angelus grinned. "I'm sorry I asked."
"Fine," she said and shrugged, "I don't have to be here. I'm sorry if I bothered you," she spat out bitterly before heading towards the door. Here she was, trying to be kind, and he brushes her away like she was some sort of criminal for visiting him and trying to make amends.
Angelus couldn't suppress a smile from her fiery attitude and grabbed her arm as he tenderly spun her around. He stared into her stormy blue eyes and gently raised a hand to caress her smooth face. "You didn't bother me. I was just curious," he said truthfully.
She pulled away from him and crossed her arms against her chest. He continued to step towards her, but this time she stood her ground defiantly.
"Are you finally coming to terms with the fact that you belong to me?" Angelus asked.
Buffy stared at him for a moment and turned to walk out of the study. "Maybe . . . " was the answer he heard her say.
Continue to Chapter 12: The Courting
Back to Chapter 10: The Gathering