Scribe shut the door after him, relocking. Angelus was careful to wipe away his expression of amusement before she turned back to him. She regarded him for a moment as if she didn't know quite what to do next, then said, "I'd offer you some refreshment, but I don't have anything... you'd want."

*That's what you think.* Aloud he said, "I can eat and drink regular stuff."

"Really?"

"Sure. I just don't need it to survive. It doesn't nourish me. I mean, I could chow down a Thanksgiving feast three times a day, and I'd still feel like I was starving without my warm red."

"Oh." She looked a little uncomfortable.

"Or a reasonable substitute. But I enjoy human food." His nostrils flared. "That hot chocolate you've had recently, for instance."

"It's just instant, but it's a premium brand. Want some?"

"Sounds yummy."

He followed her into the kitchen. As she reached for a mug and a package of cocoa mix she said, "Yummy? Have you been listening to Xander Harris?"

"Only when I can't avoid it."

She peered into the small pot sitting on the stove, then turned the flame on under it. "It shouldn't take too long for this to heat up."

He came closer and leaned a hip against the sink, crossing his arms. "So, where have you been?"

"I've been at a librarian conference. Didn't they tell you?"

"I'm sort of out of the loop right now. Kind of sudden, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Rupert was supposed to go, but for some reason he couldn't make it, so he asked me to go." She tore open the package and emptied it into the cup, then got a spoon out of a drawer. "A free trip to San Francisco--like I was going to turn it down." The kettle was just starting to whine, and she shut off the flame, then poured steaming water into the cup, and stirred. "Hopefully I'll get all the lumps out. I still end up with sludge in the bottom sometimes, but that's okay. It's like drinking chocolate syrup." She handed the cup over to him, and noticed that he was smiling. "Too much information?"

"Hell, no. The interest is in the little details." He sipped the cocoa, and his head jerked back, as he made a face. He blew on it.

"Too hot?"

"It's not bad. Hey, it's nothing compared to accidentally getting a mouthful of holy water." She blinked. "Long story--don't ask. He took another sip. "Better."

"Mine's cooled down almost to the point of being chocolate milk." She picked up her nearly empty cup from the counter and drank a little more. Angel continued sipping the coco, watching her over the rim of the cup. She was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable. Angel had watched her closely a time or two in the past, but it hadn't felt this... intense. She wasn't normally a nervous sort of person, but she was beginning to feel twitchy. He was smiling again. *He's smiled more since I opened the door than he has since I've known him. What the hell does he find so funny?* She put down her cup and said, "Angel, is this just a visit, or did you come over here for a reason?"

He set his cup beside hers, then let his hand rest flat on the counter, leaning against it. This brought him close to her. He "Can't the reason be just to see you?"

"Ooh-kay. Well, you've seen me. I've provided refreshments. It's too late to play Trivial Pursuit, and I ought to be getting to bed, so why don't you just come over again some other time?"

He put his other hand on the counter, on her other side. Now she was caged between his body and the counter. He wasn't actually touching her anywhere, but she felt the need to take shallow breaths. He said, "I can get behind the going to bed."

Another smile. When was the last time she'd been so close to anyone? Oh, yes--that night at the school, when he'd caught her when she fell of the ladder, then... scented her. She suddenly realized that she would have been able to feel his breath on her face, if he'd been breathing. *I don't believe this. I think I just got propositioned--by a vampire. By a vampire who's the boyfriend of a jealous little blonde who could thoroughly kick my butt.* "How's Buffy lately?"

He sighed, and rolled his eyes. "As plastic as ever, clingier than Saran-Wrap, and terribly, terribly young. I know that most people are young compared to me, but it's hard to believe that she managed to get so boring in such a short time on earth."

"Really? It's hard to picture someone who spends her nights fighting demons and monsters as boring."

"Yeah, there's that, but try to get her to talk about something else sometimes." He made his voice high pitched and nasal. "I am the Slayer. It is my destiny. I'm so alone. Nobody understands how hard it is. Whiiiiiiine."

"Those last couple of statements could come from just about any teenager. Uh, Angel? I'm starting to have some personal space issues here."

"What? Too much? I can fix that." He moved, and she found herself pressed between him and the counter. "I'm afraid I can't provide any body heat, but if you want me to hump a little, you can get warmth from friction."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" She shoved at his shoulders, wiggling, and managed to slide free.

He'd dropped back so that he was leaning forward against the counter again, head hanging. "Heaven's sake. Uh-uh, not that, cupcake." He was in game face as he turned around. "Never that."

Scribe's insides seemed to freeze. If she'd been able to pay attention to physical trivialities, she would have realized that her scalp had tightened in that primitive fear response that most mammals possess--the body trying to fluff its fur, to look bigger and more threatening. "Angel?" she whispered. He shook his head slowly, smiling. She swallowed hard, and said, "Angelus."

"I didn't hear a question mark on that sentence, so I guess they must've told you about me. If they told you about me..." the smile spread to a grin, fangs glinting in the far too cheerful kitchen light, "then you probably know why I'm here." She whirled and ran for the living room, screaming. "Ah, you know." He ran after her.

She knew she didn't have a chance of out running him, but she was hoping that if she could get outside, her screams would alert the neighbors. Maybe she'd really get lucky, and the Scoobies would be patrolling nearby. In the split second she'd seen Angelus' amber eyes and facial ridges; she'd pretty much figured she was going to die. She'd heard a little of Angelus' history, so now she was just hoping that the chase would inspire him to make her death quick and relatively painless.

The hope died quickly, less than halfway across the living room. He caught her shoulder, and swung her around, jerking her into his arms. "Feel free to fight me--that's part of the fun." She kneed him, and vampires still feel pain. He let go, stooping to clutch at the assaulted area, and she headed for the door again. "Shit," he muttered. "I hate it when they do that."

This time she managed to reach the door, but he caught her again before she could get it open. He slammed into her from behind, and now she found herself pinned between him and the door. "I'm gonna assume that was instinct," he said. "Surely you're not trying to make me mad enough to kill you?" She kicked back at him. "What have they been telling you about me?" He nipped her ear. "All true, I'm afraid."

"Just kill me and get it over with." It sounded weaker than she'd have liked, but then she was having the breath squeezed out of her. In fact, if he pressed a little harder, and kept it up long enough, there was a good chance she wouldn't have to keep trying to make him kill her--suffocation by compression would do it.

He turned her again, keeping her pressed against the door. "Now, where would be the fun in that?"

She'd never been intentionally punched in the face by a grown man. She had just enough consciousness before she passed out to decide she didn't like it at all.

Angelus let her crumple to the floor, then regarded her for a moment as she lay on the floor. He rubbed absently at his still aching crotch, and murmured, "You've got something to answer for, and I've got a lot of time to make up for." He looked around. *A pox on wall-to-wall carpeting. There's never a good, large rug around when you need to conceal a body. Oh, well.* He went into the bedroom and returned with a blanket. Spreading it out, he rolled her over onto its edge, then continued rolling her, wrapping her in the blanket. Once that was done he scooped her up easily, draping her over his shoulder, then made his way back to the kitchen. She was completely hidden by the blanket, but she still made a rather lumpy package, and if anyone saw him, they might be stupid enough to inquire. He didn't feel like taking the time to kill anyone else right now.

Spike lounged back on the sofa, watching Drucilla waft around the floor of the abandoned factory. Over the years, he'd gotten to where he could read her moods better than anyone else. This was different from her usual mad drifting. She wasn't moving because Miss Edith wanted to dance, or the stars were singing to her. She was moving because she was bored, and restless. "Dru, luv," he patted the seat beside him, "Come park it."

She paused, frowning at him. "I want to go out again."

He sighed. "You know what Angelus said about that. One kill each a night--then back home--unless he's with us. I don't particularly like it, but I can see his point, what with the Slayer and her little friends riled up."

She settled beside him. "It just isn't fair. Daddy's out having fun, and I have to stay here."

"I'm here." There wasn't much hope in Spike's tone, and Drucilla didn't do anything to inspire it.

She smiled at him and patted his cheek, cooing, "I love you, Spiky." She pinched his cheek, hard. "But Daddy's been away for so long, and he's so much fun when he breaks free after being locked away for awhile."

"Well, he hasn't been much bloody fun so far," Spike grumbled. "Our all night doing who knows what, while we have to sit here like... like..."

"Like Xander Harris on a Saturday night." They both looked up as Angelus came out of the shadows. "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that, Spike. I can do it for you."

Drucilla spotted the thick roll he was carrying over his shoulder, and jumped up with a squeal. Running toward him, she cried, "Did Daddy bring me a prezzie?"

"No, Princess--Daddy brought himself a prezzie, but if you're a good girl, he may let you play with it a little after the new has worn off. Give me some room."

Drucilla backed up a little, dancing excitedly as he lowered the bundle to the floor. "Will you open it now, Daddy?"

"I suppose I'd better. She might suffocate if I left her in there too long." He put his foot against the side of the roll and gave a hard push. The bundle made one turn... and stopped. "Crap. In the movies they always roll till they're undone. I guess whoever's inside helps it along. Okay, Drucilla, you get to help Daddy open his present. You take that end." They both squatted down, putting their hands on the side of the roll. "One, two, three, push!"

The blanket unrolled, and Spike got up and came over. He didn't want to appear too interested, but he couldn't deny his curiosity. Angelus didn't usually bother to bring his prey home, so this one must be a little special.

What rolled out of the blanket didn't look all that impressive. She was a lot older than he would have expected--not old, but definitely not young. She was fairly pretty, but nothing out of the ordinary. Spike studied the attire. The loose robe had fallen open to show a baggy sleep-shirt--with a cat on it. "You're abducting housewives now?"

Angelus spared him a scornful look. Drucilla prodded the limp woman experimentally. "She's still warm."

"And she'll stay that way for a long time, as long as we don't play too hard with her." Angelus grabbed Drucilla's chin and turned her head roughly, forcing her to look him in the eye. "So you won't touch her unless Daddy says you can, understand?"

She looked demure. "Of course, Daddy. Don't I always wait for permission?"

"I seem to recall a certain page boy I'd been playing along for almost a week, and then just when I was ready, I found him drained."

She pouted. "Oh, but you were taking so long with him, and he was so pretty..." Angelus' hand tightened, and she winced. "I'll be good, I promise."

He let go, and patted her shoulder. "Good girl." He glanced up at Spike. "This, Spike, is no ordinary housefrau." He reached down and lifted the flap of her robe over, so that it once again concealed her legs. "There's something very special inside this terrycloth."

Spike snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like your average human to me, mate. What's so special about her?"

"Well, for a start... We've discussed the Watcher before. Well, this..." he stroked a hank of curly hair off her face, his thumb tracing over a rising bruise on her cheek, "is very important to him."

"Oh!" Drucilla clasped her hands in delight. "Is she his special girl, Daddy?"

"Not quite, kitten--he wants her to be." He smiled slowly. "But Daddy's going to get there first, and make sure that he knows it."

Drucilla giggled, and Spike gave a bitter chuckle, then said ironically, "Yes, that makes her pretty special. How could I have ever doubted you?"

"That's not the only reason, though," Angelus assured him. "I'd have gone after this one, even if she had no connection to the Slayer and her friends. Take a good, close look at her, Spike." Spike squatted beside him and squinted at the unconscious woman, giving her an intense scrutiny. He gave Angelus a questioning look. "All right, I didn't phrase that well. Do more than just look."

Spike shrugged, and took one of her hands in his. He stroked the skin, feeling the temperature and texture, then flexed each joint, finding that none moved in an odd way. Finding nothing unusual, he dropped the hand, then began to pass his hands up and down her body, about an inch from the surface, like a faith healer feeling for the affected area. He made an expression of fierce concentration, as if he was JUST about to discover something significant. Then his hands dropped, and he honked her breasts. "Nice tits, and they seem natural. That's pretty unusual around..." Angelus slapped him hard, knocking him on his ass. "What? You said I should..."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood, asshole. You seem to have forgotten most of what I've taught you. Scent her, you idiot."

Spike's nose crinkled, but Drucilla tugged at Angelus' arm. "Can I, Daddy? Please!"

"Go on, Dru. Show Spike how it's done."

Drucilla sat cross-legged on the floor, reached out, and dragged the woman's upper torso into her lap. She slipped an arm under the woman's back, lifting her, then bent her head and delicately sniffed at the woman's face. She lingered over the lips, and said, "Chocolate!"

"That's right, Dru. She made cocoa for me before I, um, persuaded her to come for a visit."

"That was very nice of her. Usually the humans just act silly--running, screaming, trying to kill us..."

"Like I said, she's a nice woman. Those are the most fun to play with. Keep going." Drucilla sniffed some more, moving down toward the neck. "And you be careful of your fangs." Drucilla lifted her head. "She smells sweet and clean. That's much nicer than some of the people I've eaten around here."

Angelus looked at Spike expectantly. When he got no response, he shook his head. "You have to have your face rubbed in something before you get it. Dru, give her to Spike."

Dru hugged the limp body closer, looking down at her almost tenderly. "She's sort of like Miss Edith, isn't she?"

"Dru..." he said warningly. She made a face, but shifted her burden over into Spike's arms. "Go on, Spike. Just like she did, and pay attention! I know that you probably haven't run into this scent for some time--it damn sure isn't as common as it used to be."

Spike bent down and inhaled deeply. He closed his eyes in concentration, sifting through the various nuances of her scent. There was something there all right--elusive, hard to define, but there, and vaguely familiar. Yes, he'd smelled this before. Where? For some reason he thought that it should be associated with someone much younger than...

His eyes popped open, and he pulled back abruptly, staring down at the woman in disbelief. He looked questioningly at Angelus, who nodded. "No fucking way. Not at her age. Not unless you raided a bloody convent."

"Oh, yes, Spike." He held out his arms. Spike, reluctantly now, passed her over. Angelus settled the woman against his chest, like a father cradling a sleeping child. There was something very unnatural, though, in the way that he stroked her hair, then her throat. "This is a very, very rare thing, Dru. This is a post adolescent virgin--on the West Coast... and she's all mine." He dropped a kiss on the woman's forehead. "Kids, meet Scribe--Daddy's new pet."