"So, how many do you s'pose she has now?" Scott asked, his eyes riveted on the hunched figure of Xander's newest plaything.

Vincent glanced at the other vampire, his contempt blatantly reflected in his pale blue eyes. The demon who had once been a sixteen-year-old boy by the name of Scott Hope had long since passed the level of being merely annoying. His new status as Willow's sex and torture toy had given him an inflated sense of importance. Vincent would've liked nothing better than to kick the unholy shit out of the smaller vamp, then run a wooden stake through his dead heart.

"I don't know. Twenty, maybe. Thirty. I haven't been counting."

Scott straightened up and nudged Vincent with a 'watch this' grin. "Hey, Cordelia! I like your collection. It's real pretty."

The crumpled girl kneeling on the floor looked up through a hank of dirty, dark hair. Eyes, wild and uncomprehending, glittered yellow behind the curtain. She ignored them then, her fingers reaching out to rearrange the pile of tiny corpses on the concrete floor. For a week, the newly-created vampire had scurried and crawled around the Bronze, in and out of the basement and rafters like some kind of squirrel, hunting mice for her ever-growing collection. Xander, after initially letting her drink from him, had refused to let her hunt, so she had been forced to find whatever creature she could to sate the gnawing hunger for blood.

Vincent knew that some of the vampires in their cadre had taken pity on the girl and brought her more substantial gifts; the occasional dog or cat would turn up, ripped apart by her frenzied, untutored feeding. But, for the most part, she was left alone, no longer of interest to the minions now that she was one of them. Even the rare attempt at mating with her had been abandoned when she went into flamboyant hysterics at the slightest touch.

Therefore, Cordelia was left alone, to mutter to herself and hunt mice, sucking them dry, then shaping their broken little bodies into an evolving artwork. Vincent found her unnerving.

Tossing aside the magazine he had been glancing through, Vincent rose to his impressive six foot five height, looming over Scott. "I wouldn't torment her, if I were you. Xander'll skin you alive and he doesn't like you anyway. It wouldn’t take much."

Scott snorted, unimpressed. "What's his problem with me? I didn't do anything to him."

"You fucked his woman."

"You got it all wrong, my friend. Willow fucked me. I just laid back and enjoyed her considerable charms," Scott smirked.

Vincent almost laughed. The other vampire's conceit was getting on his nerves, but he took comfort in the fact that Xander would get his revenge.

Eventually.

Scott's days were numbered.

As he walked out of the main room of the nightclub, he could hear Scott taunting Cordelia. He shook his head; let him get her all agitated. It would just earn him a vicious beating from Xander.

Maybe get himself killed, if there was any justice at all in this miserable world.

The sun was creeping toward the horizon when Buffy awoke. With her eyes still tightly closed, she stretched drowsily. Her body ached in all sorts of interesting places, but it was the best kind of ache she had ever felt. Every inch of her skin, every muscle, was alive with new sensations.

Including the cool pressure of Angel's body against her back.

Her eyes snapped open as visions of their early morning lovemaking flooded her memory. It had been nearly noon before Angel had finally let her fall into blissful, exhausted sleep. Even now, she could still feel his phantom touch on her breasts, her face, inside her. The memory alone made her body tingle and her core moisten.

Twisting in his embrace, Buffy turned onto her back, pushing her face into the smoothness of his neck. She trailed her fingers over his arm as she pressed soft kisses against his throat.

A rumble vibrated through his chest and his arms tightened around her waist. "Hey, sleepyhead."

Buffy looked up to see Angel's dark eyes, half-slits, fastened on her, a soft smile curving his lips. "You're awake."

"With you wiggling in such a delightful way, you expect me to sleep?"

From the feel of the erection nudging her thigh, Buffy figured sleep was the farthest thing from his mind. She smiled and turned to face him. "Do you want me to stop? I can, you know."

With a jerk of his arm, Angel tugged her atop him, arching his hips so his cock slid against her wet cleft. Buffy gasped, trembling as he pushed up into a sitting position. His large hands cupped her breasts, his fingers dancing lightly over her hypersensitive nipples. "I think you should do whatever you want."

Any thought of getting out of this bed fled her mind. Splaying her palms over his smooth chest, Buffy rocked back and forth on his stomach, leaving a smear of wetness on his cool skin. The preternatural chill of his flesh felt wonderful between her thighs, cooling her overheating skin. The fact that he was a vampire, a demon with the face and body of a man no longer fazed her. The only important thing to her was his love and the way he made her feel.

She wanted him inside her, stretching her, filling her with his cold essence. Closing her eyes, Buffy concentrated on all of the sensations assaulting her body; Angel's fingertips on her nipples, brushing them with a feather light touch; his cock, steel-hard and curving against the roundness of her ass; his muscled stomach, flexing underneath her hips.

And then, there were his eyes. Buffy didn't need to open her own to feel his gaze burning through her, the devotion and desire like a blanket warming her soul.

"I need you, Angel. . . " she moaned, unable to wait any longer. Rising up on her knees, Buffy eased herself onto his cock, a gasp tearing past her lips as her tender, well-loved flesh protested the invasion. Bracing her hands on his broad shoulders, she thrust down on him, the brief discomfort disappearing as heat flooded her core.

"Ahhh, God, Buffy! Oh, baby. . . " the vampire cried out as he was enveloped in pure fire. Grasping her hips in his hands, he helped her to slowly work herself on him. Buffy's eyes flew open and she stared down at him with an awestruck look. A sweet smile curved her lips as she took control. Slowly she rocked back and forth on his cock, patiently taking her pleasure.

Raising his knees, Angel braced his feet on the bed and gently pushed Buffy back until she was leaning against his thighs. The position brought his cock even deeper into her body and Angel could feel her inner muscles flex rhythmically along his rigid flesh. Laying his palm low against her abdomen, he pressed inward. As Buffy rose and fell on him, he could feel himself.

Buffy was lost. He was hitting spots inside her she had no idea existed and she knew that this time was going to be very, very good. Reaching behind her, she wrapped her hands around Angel's thighs, her fingernails digging into his flesh. She groaned as he slipped his fingers between her slick folds, touching her where they were joined.

"Angel. . . it's so. . . so. . . "

"Tell me, baby," he whispered, his gaze full of her.

Buffy could only sigh, her hips moving with increasing urgency. Droplets of sweat made her straining body glisten in the soft lamplight, the moist slap of their flesh and their soft whispers the only sounds.

She was so wet now that it all but dripped out of her and the sweet scent that was uniquely Buffy filled Angel's senses. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and his hips rotated frantically under hers. Slipping his fingers into her heat, he stroked the tiny bud of her clit.

Her scream echoed against the stone walls as she exploded in ecstasy. Her inner muscles clamped down on him so hard he almost screamed with her. Watching her climax, so long and hard, Angel was sure he had never seen anyone as beautiful as the woman astride him. Buffy's hair fell in a tangled mass of gold around her shoulders and her face glowed with rapture. Their eyes met and locked, emerald green to chocolate brown, every unspoken emotion they felt passing between them.

Buffy was still trembling and crying from the force of her orgasm when Angel twisted, tossing her onto her back and driving forcefully back into her. His demon face surfaced, his eyes glowing gold and his fangs lengthening. Pushing one hand underneath Buffy's ass, he lifted her so that he could fill her completely.

Lifting her legs around his waist, Buffy arched into his frenzied thrusts, her body spiraling back into an abyss of mindless pleasure. She clung to him as another scream bubbled up from her throat. Angel joined her this time, growling as he spilled his cold seed deep into her belly.

With a muffled cry, Buffy kissed him, her hands coming up to cup his face. Angel lost himself in the erotic act, his tongue sweeping over her full lips before dipping inside. He gently sucked her tongue into his mouth, his teeth nipping at the tip. Buffy's hands were gliding over his back, her fingernails sending shivers down his spine.

"Buffy, I love you, baby. Forever, I'll love you."

Buffy smiled and pressed her face against his shoulder, her eyelids already beginning to grow heavy. Angel pulled her over onto her side as he lifted himself off of her completely sated body. As they clung together, sleep drawing them, the vampire and the Slayer shared a lingering kiss.

"Angel?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Angel pulled her close, their legs and arms entwined.

Buffy lifted her face to gaze at him drowsily. "Never leave me?"

If he'd had a living heart, Angel was sure that it would have burst from the intensity of his feelings for her. He nuzzled Buffy's damp neck, smelling her blood so close to the surface. "I'll never leave you, my love. Not even death could part us."

"Promise?" she whispered, her voice sounding very far away as sleep began to claim her.

Angel pressed a kiss to her lips, right over the scar.

"I promise forever."