Payback's a Bitch

By Maayan (maayan42@yahoo.com)
summary: Puppy gets back at VampWillow


Chains are the greatest of inventions. They allow you to control someone stronger than yourself, which is just what Angel needs right about now. The Bitch only ever fed him just enough to keep him alive, so there's no way he could subdue her without the collaboration of forged steel.

He would thank Grand-Daddy for keeping so many kinds of manacles and other assorted handcuffs stored in the factory, but he doesn't feel like going back there anytime soon. The Slayer's probably dead by now. Not that he really cares. She fell for his little woe-is-me act and took him right where he wanted. Caused enough mayhem and allowed him to take the Bitch by surprise. She was so focused on the sight of her Alpha male crumbling to dust on the floor (too bad, he would have enjoyed playing with the boy), she never heard him sneaking up behind her with a set of chains and a two by four.

It took some work to carry her unconscious form out of the factory, but they didn't attract much attention. He dragged her where no one would come looking for them. The highschool gym.

The Bitch is beginning to thrash.

He grabs her by the hair, throws her face first into a wall and smiles when delicate cheekbones give way. He pulls her toward one of those wooden bars ballet dancers use to stretch and fastens the manacles.

She moans. A pathetic little moan. A human moan.

Which pisses him off all over again.

He snatched a couple things on the way out. Scissors, pliers, a box of matches, a small vial of holy water and a crowbar... but he'd rather begin bare-handed.

Warm up. Stretch underused muscles.

He fingers the burns on his own chest. Damn skin itches like Hell.

The Bitch is coming around, raising doe-like, confused eyes. "How did Puppy get away?"

He breaks three ribs with one punch and that shuts her up. She must be stupider than she looks, which is quite a fit. There's a good reason no one ever let him out of that cage. He was Angelus, the Master's Grand Childe, the fucking Scourge of fucking Europe, and there's a certain amount of skill that comes with the title, soul or no soul.

For example, he wrote the book on torture.

And the little red-headed hack thought she could infringe on his copyright.

He grins. Watches her cough up blood.

Stupid, stupid child.

"Puppy?" she moans, uncomprehending.

Gee, now she sounds like Dru. Well he isn't taking responsibility for that one, at least not yet. Maybe in a week or so, when her mind is gone...

"Let me set the record straight, Bitch." His elbow collides with her jaw, and little bits of jagged teeth shred her swollen lips.

Now she almost looks attractive.

"I'm not your Puppy. I'm your fucking Elder. And from now on, you will address me as Master, or not at all. Got it?"

He steps back to admire his handywork. It's been a while. Where to begin?

Decisions, decisions.

"Now, let's see. What to do? Fuck you gently with a crowbar, maybe?" He purses his lips doubtfully. "No. Later. Don't want you to bleed out so soon..."

The Bitch morphs and glares at him.

The gall of those youngsters.

"Have it your way, then."

He grabs the pliers, winds one hand through red hair and pulls the Bitch's head back. Her skull smacks ominously against the wall. Her eyes are dazed and her mouth hangs open. He takes his cue. Forces the pliers inside her mouth.

Rips out one fang.

When she howls in agony and outrage, he rips out the other.

The scream soars again, before dying down to a litany of small sobs. He licks the blood off her chin then draws away in disgust.

Can't believe she's crying already.

"Are we learning yet? I'm really doing all this for you, you know? A vampire should receive a rounded education, and you obviously missed out on the finer points of ultimate suffering."

He picks up the scissors. Watches her shudder as he comes near. He cuts off the leather bodice and rips her blouse away, leaving her bare-chested.

He lifts an eyebrow in disappointment.

Not much to work with there.

With the sigh of the long-suffering, he grabs the matchbox.

And gets to work on her nipples.

"Wmah grmln nuh..."

"What's that, Bitch? Got something to share with the class?"

Damn but he feels good. He's taken quite a bit of blood from her, although she's still conscious, and most of his injuries have healed.

He didn't remember torture to be so... invigorating. He really should have tried harder to get her mate, too. Ah, well. He will just have to endeavor to keep her alive then. Make her last.

*That* will take definite skill.

He crosses his arms and contemplates his oeuvre.

The slashes of the scissors and the cigarette burns combine in lovely patterns, as if someone's been playing some mad game of solitaire all over the Bitch's body. What little blood is left in her system has risen to the surface, coloring the epidermis in delicious shades of brown and blue. There's not much left her face. The delicate bone structure didn't withstand repeated contact with the crowbar. Fingers stick out of swollen hands at odd angles above manacles, which stretch her arms painfully, shoulders dislocated from the broken collarbone. Blood dribbles appealingly through split lips, brought up by collapsed lungs and holy water dripped on er tongue. He's fed straight from the inside of her thighs, leaving bite marks like scattered bee-stings on the bruised flesh. Her ass, forcefully raised in the air, is still more or less intact.

He's rather looking forward to that part actually. It's been a while. He hopes the boy hasn't loosen her up too much.

Beautiful.

It felt good to let go, and he should thank her for that, really.

He sighs in perfect contentment.

But... there's...

He crumbles to his knees with a short cry and grapples at his chest. Closes his eyes.

Feels something tighten then snap.

...

Gets up.

Smirks.

"So, now. Where were we?"

He grabs the Bitch's blood-matted hair and forces the remnants of her face up. Conspiratorial look plastered on.

"Hey, babe. You wouldn't know where a bloke can find a good chainsaw this time of night, uh?"

Sometimes boys just wanna fun.

------------