Title – Complete

Disclaimer - not mine.

Rating - NC17! You asked for it, you got it, *but* if you can't read it, then don't. In my opinion, it's not very graphic, but it's *my* opinion, you've been warned.

Spoilers - everything ever.

Pairing - Buffy/Angel.

Synopsis – consummating desires:).

Feedback - always.

AN – Buffy's POV.

"Dawn, you're late!"

"I'm not late, I don't have classes until ten!"

A typical morning in the Summers' house, or so it seems. It's either *everyone* woke up on the right side of the bed this morning, or it's just me, affecting everyone else, it's really hard to tell. I know one thing - it's been a long time since this house was half as alive as it is this morning. I can't help but feel a pang of guilt in my chest, if I really am the one causing it, because that would just mean that for three years I was also the one who cast a shadow of grief over all these people, the people I love, and they lived in the dark because of me.

As I sip from my coffee, I look at those I've grown to call my family, and I'd like to say things will be better from now on, and in some sense, they already are. But something tells me the bad isn't quite behind us just yet. Maybe I'm just afraid to be completely happy because I'm afraid it'll all go away in a flash, as fast as it came, and I'll be swallowed back into the darkness of solitude. Or maybe it's my Slayer-senses warning me something is up I don't even know of yet. I should be used by now to my life flipping in the least expected moment and leaving me hanging high and dry in the air, not knowing what to do, but I'm not. I can't be. I lost him two times already, and both of these times the world came crushing down on me and left me in a bubble of indifference and obscurity where if I don't care about nothing, nothing hurts because nothing is real. And I know that if it happens again, the entire cycle will repeat itself because when your heart is ripped out, regardless to whether it might return one day, the pain is still the same pain.

"Buffy, where is Connor?"

I look at my sister for a moment before her question registers properly in my head. "Did you check in his room?"

"He's not in his room," she rolls her eyes impatiently, as though it should be obvious, otherwise, she wouldn't be asking in the first place.

I stare at her, trying to ignore the concern steadily growing inside of me. I only now shamefacedly realize I completely forgot about Connor. With everything that happened, I barely gave him a moment's thought. I inhale a deep breath as I stand up and walk aimlessly over to the front door and halt there for a moment before returning to the kitchen, where I acknowledge everyone is eyeing me strangely because I must be looking as ridiculous as I feel. How careless could I be to allow that slip my mind? I can't even begin to process what he must be going through and I was too busy with myself to even notice him for a moment. Where am I supposed to look for him now, what is he doing? Is he even planning to come back anytime soon? What am I going to tell Angel?...

"Buffy!" I'm clearly too rapt in my thoughts because I only hear Dawn saying my name when she repeats it for the third time. "He took the car, how am I supposed to get to college? If I pulled something like that, you-"

I sigh, causing her to break off her rant. It's unbelievable how we all put things into our own selfish perspectives when we need something. "Leave him alone, Dawn, he's been through enough for one night already." I watch as an understanding drowns upon her and she nods weakly, and though I can still detect the slight spark of annoyance in her orbs, I know the anger is gone. She has her own confusion to deal with, just like everyone else, only the more she's grown up, the more I learned that her way of dealing is becoming too busy with her life to notice anything change around her. I don't exactly know what triggered it and when it happened, though she might have taken that example from me and my dealing with mom's death, which, if true, is another item to add to the list of those I should feel guilty for. But me or not, wherever she picked it up from, she definitely thinks the best way to deal with blows of any kind is to ignore.

"I'll try Liz's later, maybe he's there. Or at least, she might know where he is," I suggest, unsure whose concerns am I trying to allay here, their or mine.

"Xander can drive me," she suggests without a hint of hesitation and as I meet my friend's eyes over the newspaper he's supposedly reading, I know he's been expecting her to do just that. "He always hangs around here like he doesn't have a home, so he should pay for that by driving me to college. Come on," she drags him out of his chair by the sleeve, until he finally cooperates and with a chuckle, rises to his feet. As he is following my sister out of the kitchen, I hear him mutter something, but the only line I can perceive is, "I never bought that apartment for me anyway."

And I know whom he did buy it for.

I don't know if Dawn heard that, too, but she should have. She should have never brought up that argument, no matter how funny she thought it'd sound. We all knew when exactly Xander practically 'moved' into our house and we all knew why. I guess it was an innocent slip, maybe aiming to amuse, she never meant any harm, but I still wish she hadn't done it, if only because the glimpse in his eyes when she did reminded me of myself.

We are a weird assembly in the kitchen this morning, I realize as I watch Xander leave. We all have something in common, and that something is the worst thing possible. We all lost a loved one at one point or another in our lives. Some of us turned to vengeance that could end our own lives, some turned to dark magic. Some of us repressed it all so much there was barely anything left to remind them of their loss. And some shut themselves off from the world and from themselves and chose to live a lie. It's funny how you obviously can't save the world without paying a price, funny how we dedicate our lives to saving others but when it comes to saving the ones we love most, we're completely helpless. Giles will always hold a tiny picture of Jenny in a corner of his heart, a part of Willow will always hold on to the memory of Tara, and a part of Xander will always love Anya, no matter how far away he'll try to push her memory.

And that moment I realize that I'm the luckiest person of us all. And again - all I feel is guilt, because I don't need a picture and I don't need a memory, because all of my memories are alive and we will take thousands and thousands of pictures to create more memories.

The yearning to go back to him suddenly grows so strong I forget why I left him and came down to the kitchen in the first place. My feet are itching to move and I practically have to fight myself to stay put. I force all reason out of my mind and all I want to do is just hold him, be close to him, do everything I was robbed off for the past three years.

But I can't.

Because I need answers, and most importantly, *he* needs answers. He has the right to know where he came from, how and why. We can't really build ourselves a future until we resolve the past, we tried that before and it doomed us, and I'm not letting that happen again.

I inhale and resolutely turn to look at my Watcher. "Giles?" I draw his attention from the morning paper, even though I didn't exactly have to because I know his eyes have been secretly following me all along. It seems he could sense something was up underneath the surface from miles away. Kinda reminds me of someone.

"Yes?" he clears his throat and puts the newspaper down on the table. He adjusts his glasses and focuses on me and I know I have his complete attention just by looking into his eyes. I love his eyes, they have the tenderest shade of blue, and it's always so clear and so honest, it always makes me feel like I'm all he sees whenever he looks at me. It feels like he's not only seeing the exterior of me, but also the inside, seeing what I'm feeling, what I'm thinking, what's bothering me even before I manage to put it into words, it always makes me wonder when has he learned to know me so well? Sometimes it seems that only yesterday I was the sixteen-year-old schoolgirl struggling for a normal life and instead getting a stuffy British librarian on my head with always too much to say. And still, as I smile inwardly at the memory, I know for sure the blue that peered at me that day years ago from behind his glasses when he showed me the book on vampires is the same blue that's reflecting in my eyes right now. And it's really been almost ten years...

"I umm... I sort of," I sigh, a pointless attempt to calm my nerves. "I need you to help me. I need to know what's going on and...why. I have to know why." I don't say too much, or too little, just enough to make my request relatively reasonable, if you know the backstory. I don't know, maybe I'm the one with the issues. After all it's not every day I get to ask my Watcher, and my best friend, for that matter, who is standing right behind him, probably looking more confused than I am, to help me research the return-from-the-dead of my lover. Oh wait. On second thought, been there, done that already. But things are still different now, they're far more complicated than a vampire being brought back from hell, at least because there is no vampire and it's a pretty safe bet to say there was no hell.

"We'll help, Buffy, we'll look everywhere, I promise," Willow gives me a warm encouraging smile that, as usually, possesses the unique power to melt every bit of fear and concern in me I can possibly conjure up.

"We'll start right now, i-if you want," Giles immediately backs up her words. "I can start looking into leads and..."

"What leads?" escapes my mouth before I can even think about what I'm saying, only to rub my nose into the absolute hopelessness of our situation.

"I-well, I-" I watch as he exchanges a worried glance with Willow and let out a sigh. Did I really expect him to grasp at straws just to make me feel better when there are no straws to grasp at?

"We'll figure it out," Willow makes a resolute step forward and puts a hand on his shoulder, her firm gaze never leaving mine. "It's not the first time we don't have a starting point, we'll deal," she smiles again and, surprising myself, I smile, too. I believe her, because she's Willow, and she stood by me even through our hardest times and she will never disappoint me when I need her the most.

"Thanks, guys," I nod, pulling myself a chair and sitting by the table opposite to Giles. "So how soon are you free to begin the research party?"

They don't answer for a moment, then exchange awkward looks which I don't know the meaning of but they give me a feeling of wrongness I can't understand. "Buffy..." Willow finally looks at me and it's obvious she's speaking for the two of them. "Is there a... reason why you wouldn't want Angel here for that?"

"I..." Why wouldn't I want Angel here? And yet, here I am, leaving him almost as soon as I wake up when all I really want is to *never* leave him, and coming down here to discuss the mystery surrounding his return when all I should care about is him being back. So yeah, either something is *really* messed up with me or... I'm just being Buffy, make it seventeen or twenty-five, still the same Buffy. As my Watcher, in moments like these, Giles should be proud.

"I don't know," I mumble, as I look down from them. "He's been on this hunt for two years at least, and he's come up with nothing-"

"He found you," Giles made a point.

"H-he did," I nod, but still unconvinced. "But other than that, he knows nothing more than we do right now and that *is* nothing. The only things he's been able to uncover, and yes, I get it it was new to him at the time," I see Willow's lips part and add quickly before she can make that observation, "is what we already know. But he has no clues as to what was done to him, by whom or why, and that does leave us a blank page to start with. Anyway," I sigh, running my hand through my hair. The urge to go back to Angel takes over me again and I'm more than willing to obey this time. "I'll be right back, okay?" I look at my best friend and Watcher for affirmation. "I just wanna check on him for a moment."

"I-I don't think you have to do that anymore," Willow says quietly, and when I follow her gaze I see she's looking pointedly right over my shoulder.

"Angel," I gasp, as my heart stills momentarily, while I wonder for how long exactly has he been standing there without me knowing. I obviously should have paid more attention to my own instincts, which instead of telling me to go see him, were telling me he was already there. Maybe I'm rustier in that department than I thought...

I need a minute to take in the sight of him and it seems I'm staring at a statue of a Greek God instead of my lover, the sight of him alone mesmerizing me and now I can't break loose, I can't even avert my eyes for a moment. He's leaning with one hand against the doorframe and staring at me with those soft brown orbs I could never resist, the exact ones that make me feel as though he's peering right through me. He's not wearing a shirt, and at first I ask myself why, but then I remember it's because it's on me and that realization brings a tiny smile to light the corners of my mouth, I even think I'm blushing, but I'm not sure. I don't know why, but when I look at him now, all logic seems to desert me and all I can think of is how much I want to rip every piece of clothing he does have on him, how much I want these hands to caress every curve of my body, how much I want these lips to kiss every spot...

I swallow hard when I realize my gaze betrayed me and he slyly quirks a brow at the same thought. Bastard.

"Coffee?" Willow chirps in, tastefully intruding on our private moment. When he doesn't answer, she clears her throat and in a small voice, asks, "You do drink coffee, right?"

Angel blinks a couple of times, obviously attempting to free himself from the same thrall that possessed me. "I... I usually don't... actually," he rubs his neck, uncomfortably avoiding meeting her eyes. "I just don't," he adds, "I don't even know why."

"It makes you jittery."

Of course, all eyes instantly turn on me.

"The caffeine," I try to clarify, glancing up at Angel. "It makes you jittery. You told me once," I offer a small shrug, beaming impishly.

He chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around my middle and crushing me to his chest. "Anything else you might want to tell me about myself?" he whispers in my ear and I grin at that.

"Maybe," I reply, with a slight touch of mystery to my voice, which only draws another chuckle from him. I hold my breath as I feel his warm hand sliding under the fabric of my shirt and his palm resting on my belly. I gulp, realizing I was overestimating my Angel-immunity. I don't know just how much is he aware of the enormous effect he has over me, but a few more minutes and I might do something not exactly appropriate for an audience.

I don't miss the knowing glimpse in Willow's eyes when they pass across mine and I subconsciously reach under the shirt for Angel's hand to remove it before it does any further damage. I don't even know why I'm reacting to him like this, I mean, I never was indifferent to Angel, but not like this. I spent an entire night in his arms and he never tried anything *once*, never mind that he could have and we *both* knew I wouldn't try to stop him even for an instant. It was the right thing to do, or so it felt at the time, that we wouldn't rush into things. So what changed all of a sudden?

Before things could cross the line any further, I slip from his hold, take his hand and pull him after me out of the kitchen.

"You're not playing fair," I hiss, as soon as we're completely out of Willow and Giles' sight and I'm back in his arms.

"Come upstairs with me," he whispers, as his hand roams upward under my shirt and cups my breast. I steal a glance over his shoulder around the corner at Willow and Giles, to make sure they really are oblivious to us and I'm relieved to find they are. Not that Angel would go that far, if they were watching, *not* that it makes this entire scenario any less improper. My rational side insists we're well hidden behind the wall separating the kitchen and the hall, but I'd still rather we'd be alone, because if his hormones are half as mad as mine, there is no telling how far he can go. Obviously he feels the same way, otherwise he wouldn't have suggested going upstairs at all.

"I-I can't," I murmur, my voice shivering as he lets go of my breast and brushes his fingertip down my front to my navel, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my already overly-sensitive to his touch skin. Why does he have to do that to me? Because he's Angel. And because he can. And because he *knows* he can.

"Why?" he asks casually, as his hand dives into the ocean formed by now inside my panties and I suck in a sharp breath when he pulls me closer until his hard is rubbing against my lower back in the perfect spot to increase the flow.

I open my mouth to say something that would make sense but I can't. I can't even form a rational thought, all I'm conscience of is his hands just in the right places and there seems to be nothing else. Again, I wonder if he knows just how helpless I am in his arms. "How do you do that?" I manage, my voice low and hoarse as I try not to make any sounds that might draw unnecessary attention from the adjacent room. "How can you walk in on something important and make me forget it exists?"

"It's important for me, too," he replies, his lips tenderly caressing the sensitive skin of my neckline with each word. He retrieves his hand from my pants and encircles his arms around my waist, gently, and yet sharply at the same time, turning me to face him. "But I need you," he says, almost pleadingly, and when I look into his eyes, I don't think I ever saw him more serious. "I need to forget everything but you... just for a little while."

"Angel-"

"Guys?" Willow's hesitant voice cuts in and I quickly drop whatever I wanted to say, partly grateful for my best friend's perfect timing. In any case, I don't think trying to convince him we can't *yet* is the right thing to do, especially seeing as I can't even convince myself of that.

"Y-yeah?" I stutter, endeavoring to steady my voice when all I want to do is hide my face in Angel's chest because I think I now look worse than an overripe tomato.

Willow's green all-knowing eyes skim over the two of us as she quietly informs what not so deep inside, I've been dying to hear for the past few minutes. "Giles and I have to go... someplace."

"You need us to-" I stop when I feel Angel's arm warningly tighten around my waist and I grin inwardly at my own stupidity. Well, if there is anyone in this world I can safely blame for robbing me of my ability to think straight...

"No," she hurries to refuse my self-invitation and I inwardly ponder over her anxiety to leave. Are we *that* obvious?

"It's just research, Buffy, we can contact you both later if we need anything," giving an absolutely lame excuse, Giles pitches in.

"Okay," I nod, sending Willow a concealed grateful smile, which she instantly returns.

"We'll see you guys later," she waves at us as she and Giles exit through the door, and a moment later, a hear a key turning in the lock, and then... silence. We're completely alone.

"You were saying?"

I raise my eyes at the cause to this entire embarrassing mess and find him grinning mischievously at me. How does he do that?? I think back at the Angel of years ago, the Angel from 'before', and I wonder, if he, too, would allow himself to act that way, and somehow I don't seem to come up with a solid yes, or any yes for that matter. God, I hate him for being able to do that to me, I wish I could punch that smug grin off his face!

Well, either the line between love and hate really is nonexistent, or I simply *can't* hate that person, because instead of punching I jump up on him and wrap my legs around his waist, surprising him so much, he stumbles backward into the wall as he meets my attacking mouth in a fervent kiss. I intensely deepen the kiss and dig my hands into his brown hair, as he steadies himself on his feet and carries me into the kitchen.

My ears only pick up the muffled sounds of dishes flying from the table and the pleasant familiarity of our situation only hits me when he lowers my back down on it and with his hungry lips never leaving mine, starts working on the obstructing buttons of my shirt. My hands blindly fumble to his fly and help him slide out of his trousers and boxers simultaneously in record time, while he deprives me of mine.

My lips are burning when they finally lose contact with his and I'm panting as his body slithers down mine and he captures my breasts in his palms as he buries his head between my legs. I emit a small yelp of delight mingled with surprise when his warm tongue digs its way into me, stroking and itching allover, making my entire being quiver like it were weightless. My nipples harden as his skillful hands manipulate the flesh of my breasts and I shiveringly slide my palms down the sides of my body to my center until I comb them into his wet hair, urging him deeper into me. He complies and I draw in a sharp breath and tense momentarily when he goes on to tormenting my clitoris and I feel my entire body goes numb and my flow only increases until I feel I'm drowning in myself.

Trough my half-closed and blurry eyes, I watch his head peek up from my crotch and I release a small moan of protest. In response to that, one of his hands leaves my breast and creeps up to my face, where he soothes my quivering lips with his index finger, as his other hand cups my cheek and tilts my head up. My groan turns into one of pure pleasure when I feel the damp tip of his rigid cock rub up my thigh and I know where it's headed because it's right where I want it to. He urges himself atop me and I invitingly pull back to allow him easier access.

Finally, he enters me and I'm unable to conquer the cry rising in my throat as he fills me inside, gently at first, to allow me adjust to his size allover again. I welcome him in, wrapping my trembling arms around his scorching sweat-beading torso, I gather my legs up and around his pelvis, and as he proceeds further onto the table I feel it creaking under the pressure of our joint weight but I don't care. He slides further into me and I gasp when he enters completely as the steaming wave of utmost pleasure washes over me I squirm in ravishing delight as I take in all his size.

I chant his name like a mantra as he glides in and out, each time he thrusts into me seems to go deeper than the one before, rubbing and pressing against my insides, granting special attention to all the hot spots, proficiently knowing where they are. His strokes gradually grow more violent as he shoves harder and harder into me and as I'm convulsing under him, I dig my fingers in the flesh of his back so roughly I soon feel his warm blood coating the tips of my nails as he whispers my name. The wild tempo of his thrusts rises faster and faster, so hard and intense it seems to tear me from the inside and I love it. He's spilling into me, and it only fills me with more pleasure and I possessively press him closer to me. With our bodies always in perfect sync, I lose myself completely, every sensation leaves me with the exception of him inside me and I sink into heavenly oblivion as I arrive.

THE END