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The Lady Of Dis

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There were balls in Hell, dances that went on forever. The demons dressed in their finery,
listened to the very best of music, drank the richest blood, and gorged themselves on their

As the Lady of Dis danced with her lover, scarlet silk gown billowing around her, she watched
the others with a hunger that only the demon holding her could see.

It amused him that she wanted every single one of their guests dead, and he wondered if she'd ever adjust and adapt.

Probably not. A Slayer in Hell was unheard of. Her soul, though stained, was too bright to ever become accustomed to the perversions and natural darkness. If he hadn't dragged her with him through the portal, she'd never have ended up here.

And he wondered what would have happened to him without her, because he was secure enough to admit--at least to himself--that she was the reason he'd risen so high in the ranks so quickly. That she'd helped him only to keep herself from being destroyed didn't bother him.

Bargains made in Hell were still, after all, bargains, and there were benefits to this one, more
than the endless balls and high society that reminded him of the glory days in London. As
Angelus pressed a kiss to Buffy's cold lips and felt her eager response, he laughed to himself.

And had a ball.