Overnight, a gale had blown in from the Pacific and Sunnydale was getting torrential rainfall. Only just after midnight, Buffy was considering packing it in and going home. The weather was so nasty even the vamps were staying indoors. Not that it would have done them any good to go hunting; what was the point when your food supply was locked tight in their houses?

After making a final pass through Sunnydale's largest cemetery, Restfield, Buffy gave up. She was soaked, cold and hungry, and ready for a hot bath and bed. Slinging her favorite crossbow over her shoulder, she headed back towards town.

A sharp bolt of lightning lit up the sky and Buffy flinched, waiting for the answering crash of thunder.

She never heard it as a heavy blow to the back of her head sent her sprawling to the pavement. With a Slayer's speed and stability, she was back on her feet, only to be driven back down to her knees by another strike to the temple. Blackness encroached on the edges of her awareness and she struggled to stay conscious.

Raising a hand to her temple, she felt the sticky heat of her oozing wound. Pain shot through her skull as clawed hands grabbed her by the back of her jacket and jerked her up. Buffy met the golden eyes of the triumphant vampire towering over her. He grinned and leaned in towards her, fangs bared in hunger.

In the next moment, a shimmering cloud of reddish dust marked his discontinued existence and through a haze of blood and pain, Buffy saw Angel's welcome figure, a sharpened stake in his hand.

"Angel. . . "

With a groan, Buffy fell forward in a dead faint.

Warm.

Felt good.

Stretching slowly, Buffy sighed at the sensation of satin sliding against her skin.

Her bare skin.

Her green eyes flying open, Buffy sat straight up, wincing as a wave of dizziness nearly sent her back into unconsciousness. The sheets, sensuous black satin, slid to her waist, leaving Buffy with the realization that she was completely naked.

Gasping at the remnants of pain, the Slayer gingerly touched the cut on her temple, finding it almost healed. She tugged the sheets back up over her breasts and looked around the dimly-lit room.

She was sitting in the middle of a huge four-poster bed, the black satin sheets and vermilion velvet comforter in a tangled mass around her long, pale legs. A large armoire stood against one wall, a doorway beside it opening into a small bathroom. An overstuffed armchair was pulled near the bed, a book lying open on it, a light blanket thrown over the arm.

Turning to look at the small nightstand beside the bed, Buffy saw a crystal pitcher of water and a glass, along with a bottle of Advil. Reaching over, she poured water into the glass and took two of the painkillers.

The memories of the night before began to come back. The vampire ambushing her and hitting her; his fangs gleaming as he moved in for the kill; the cloud of ash that marked a vampire's death; Angel catching her as she fell.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was in Angel's home, in his bed and that he had put her there.

Buffy blushed crimson as she realized that it must have been the vampire who had undressed her and put her into bed.

Her anger flared and she intended to find the depraved monster and give him a piece of her mind.

Then maybe the business end of her stake.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Buffy stood up.

Promptly, she fell to her knees as her vision split double and the room swam before her eyes. Gasping in pain, Buffy crawled back up on the bed and pulled the sheets up around her shoulders. She lay back against the pillows, on her side, closing her eyes tightly as she willed away the pain.

"I'm going to kill him," she muttered to herself, as she curled into a ball, swallowing against the nausea that threatened to empty her stomach. "Stupid vampire. How dare he!"

She fumed silently, appalled and embarrassed that he had seen her naked and even more irate that she actually cared about what he thought. Rolling over onto her back, Buffy stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. She hated this weakness! She hated caring and being cared for. It messed everything up, it made her powerless and it scared her. It was almost easier to have someone like Merrick in her life, at least she had no expectations of love or affection from him, nor did he expect it in return. He was happy as long as she let him fuck her once in a while and keep her distance from him the rest of the time.

Turning back onto her side, Buffy choked back a sob. She tried never to think of her parents, ever, but it was times like this, when she was alone or feeling vulnerable, that memories of her life with them came back to haunt her.

Scenes of birthday parties and Christmas, shopping expeditions and school recitals played through her mind and Buffy shook with the effort to hold them at bay. Sometimes she just wanted to give in to the madness that remembering promised.

She wanted to forget she was ever a happy young girl named Buffy Summers.

Burying her face into cool black satin, Buffy wept bitterly.

Angel heard Buffy's weeping long before he reached the bedroom. Concerned, he quietly opened the door and looked in.

The sight that greeted him made him quiver with desire.

The Slayer was curled in the middle of the huge bed, the bedclothes vibrant against her ivory skin. Her legs, bare nearly to the hip, were tangled in a prison of ebony silk and the sheets had slipped to uncover a fair portion of her back. Her hair, still in its braid, was a pale rope against the dark fabric.

One hand, slender and trembling, was pressed to her eyes, struggling to hold back the tears. Angel fel her pain and wanted only to take her in his arms and soothe the hurting little girl. He moved closer to the bed, whispering softly.

"Buffy? Are you okay?"

At first, Angel wasn't sure she had heard him, but the hand slowly moved and he was greeted with the burning fury of her glassy, emerald gaze.

Sitting up swiftly, Buffy grabbed the nearest thing her hand touched and threw it. Angel ducked the as the crystal goblet sailed through the air, its contents splashing him. The glass hit the wall and exploded into pieces.

"You filthy bastard!" Buffy screamed. She started to get out of the bed only to remember she was completely naked. Jerking the velvet comforter around her nude body, she took a couple of steps and lurched violently to the side, as her head refused to cooperate.

She caught herself against the armchair, one hand pressing to her temple. "Oh! Goddamnit. . . how dare you?"

Angel stepped forward cautiously. She was injured, but still the Slayer and a pissed-off one at that. "Buffy, you were hit pretty hard; you should get back in bed," he said, his handsome face creased with worry.

She doubled over for a moment, but glared up at him. "Oh, I just bet you'd like that! Get the Slayer in bed! Take advantage when she's hurt!"

"That's not why I brought you here. . . "

"You've been sniffing after me for weeks now! I'm not stupid, you know!" Buffy yelled as she slowly sank to her knees. Angel rushed forward to help her, but the young woman held him off with a vicious look.

"Buffy, I-I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable. It wasn't my intention," Angel said softly as he knelt in front of her, only an arm's length away.

Laying her head against the arm of the chair, Buffy sighed and looked at the vampire with world-weary eyes. "Isn't it what you want? Just a chance to fuck the Slayer?"

"No."

The disbelief in her eyes spoke volumes.

Angel sighed and looked down at his hands, large and pale. Hands that had ended the lives of a thousand innocents and more. Hands that ached to touch the distrustful girl in front of him.

He wasn't going to gain her trust by lying to her.

"I'm not going to lie to you and say that I'm not attracted to you, because I am. Very, very much." He paused as Buffy frowned. "But, I also want to take care of you. Watch over you."

Buffy snorted. "I don't need anyone to watch over me. Least of all a vampire. I can take care of myself."

She tried to pull herself to her feet, but sank back down as Angel reached out and laid a stilling hand on her arm. She looked at him peevishly.

The vampire only smiled at her. "Buffy, it isn't the Slayer that needs protecting. It's the little girl inside her."

"I don’t know what you mean. . . "

"Don’t you? Why were you crying, just now? When was the last time someone held you in their arms and let you grieve?"

Buffy turned her head away, pain filling her heart with swift brutality. Angel didn't miss the quivering of her chin as she struggled to hold back her tears and failing miserably.

"When was the last time someone told you they were proud of you? Kissed you and bought you pretty things?" Angel continued, creeping closer to her. Buffy's face was wet with tears and she swallowed convulsively.

"Stop it. . . " she whispered.

"When was the last time someone told you how beautiful you are?"

Buffy lashed out at him, catching him with a glancing blow to the cheek. Angel rocked back from the force, significant considering that it wasn't even a full Slayer punch. He had a brief vision of the damage she could do at her full strength.

Jumping to her feet, Buffy pulled the heavy comforter around her and stalked off. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

Angel turned to watch her and his eyes fell on the fragments of glass that littered the floor. He jumped to his feet and reached out for her, but not before Buffy stomped on the razor-sharp shards.

She screamed and stumbled back. Angel caught her up in his arms as she tried to regain her balance. Swiftly, he carried her into the bathroom, kicking the partially-open door out of the way. Placing the now-sobbing Slayer on the edge of the sink, Angel knelt on the floor and picked up her left foot.

The scent of her blood, as intoxicating as the finest wine, washed over him and he fought against the lure of the demon within. Turning her foot so he could see the bottom, he winced.

In four or five places, shards of glass had penetrated the soft skin. Blood oozed around the cuts and dripped over his fingers. He closed his eyes and forced himself to ignore the hunger that swelled in his belly.

When he looked back up at Buffy, she was staring at him through a haze of tears. "It hurts."

"I know, baby. Let me get some tweezers and we'll get them out."

Angel stood up and leaned over so that he could reach the medicine cabinet. Buffy found herself pressed against him, her knees jutting against his muscular thighs. She trembled as his arm brushed her bare shoulder. Unbidden, a wave of heat spread from her belly down to her toes.

After gathering a couple of towels, a pair of tweezers and some antiseptic, Angel began gently removing the fragments of glass from Buffy's feet. On second glance, it wasn't as bad as it had originally looked. One foot had several shallow cuts and the other had a few scratches that were already healing. By morning, they would just be shadows.

"This may sting a little. . . " Angel said as he dabbed the antiseptic on the cuts. Aside from a quick jerk of her legs, she endured it in silence.

"There. All better." Angel stood up and smiled at Buffy. She was looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"Let's put you back to bed."

Without protest, Buffy let him gather her back in his arms and carry her back into the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed and watched as he walked over to the armoire and took something out of it. He came back and handed her a white silk shirt.

"I thought you might like something to put on. Your clothes were wet and muddy," he said as Buffy wordlessly took the shirt from him.

"I'll clean up the glass. You go ahead and get some sleep."

When Angel returned a few minutes later with a broom and dustpan, Buffy had changed into the shirt and was once more under the covers. The vampire quickly scooped up the glass and made sure that no dangerous fragments remained on the hardwood floor.

"Angel?"

Angel turned and looked at the Slayer. She had propped herself up on one elbow and was staring at him, her uncertainty evident. She had unbraided her hair and the golden mass fell in silky waves to her waist. She looked angelic.

"You need to sleep, Buffy."

"Do you really think I'm pretty?"

The words, spoken so hesitantly, so innocently, cut straight through to his unbeating heart. Angel walked over to the bed and sat down. Gently, he smoothed a strand of hair away from her face. Looking deep into her eyes, he could see the doubt and humiliation in their emerald depths.

"Buffy, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known. The day I saw you for the first time, you were standing outside of your high school in LA and I know that not even one of Heaven's angels could surpass what I saw in you that day."

Her eyes widening, Buffy shook her head in confusion. "LA? I don't understand."

Angel took Buffy's hand and held it sandwiched between his own, dwarfing her tiny fingers. "When I said you were my destiny, what I meant was. . . I was approached by a demon, a good demon, named Whistler. It was spring of 1996. I was living in New York, if that's what you want to call it. I was existing, barely."

Shifting as Buffy sat up, Angel moved closer to her, their legs touching through the covers. The little blonde listened intently.

"Whistler said he had something to show me. So, we ended up in LA, in a beat-up old car with the windows blacked out. In front of your Hemery High. Waiting for you."

"1996. In March. I was there the day Merrick came to you and told you that you were the Slayer."

Buffy was speechless with shock. This man, this vampire, had known of her for the past three years. "But, why?"

"I wanted to help you, be there for you. Whistler said that you would be moving with your mother to Sunnydale. Soon, within the year," Angel looked down at their hands. Buffy had entwined her fingers with his and she was lightly rubbing his fingers with the other.

He smiled to himself. If she only knew what her innocent touch was doing to him, she would probably stake his sorry ass.

"But, it never happened. We moved to Cleveland."

"Yes. That day, when I saw you in the sunlight, so happy, so in love with life, that's when I first found you beautiful," Angel whispered. "That's when I fell in love with you."

He felt her hand clench around his and he looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes.

"I'm not that girl anymore, Angel. I'm not. . . I don't look the same. . . "

His head snapped up and saw the pain in Buffy's eyes. She blushed and raised a hand to her mouth, hiding the faint scar. He took her hand and pulled it away.

"Never hide yourself from me! You are beautiful, if anything even more so. It's your heart that I love, Buffy. Even if I don't deserve it."

Any objections Buffy might've had over Angel's affections faded into nothingness as he gazed at her with his fathomless black eyes, the look on his face full of hope and longing. Rising to her knees, the sheets falling away from her body, Buffy fell into his open arms.

Angel wrapped his arms around Buffy's slender body, clad only in the thinnest of silk. The heat of her body scalded his soul and he buried his face into the soft curve of her neck. His hands came up to slip into her hair, letting the heavy waves spill through his fingers.

He sighed in utter contentment.