118 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go…  

Word travels fast. 

In any place, at any time, news, especially news one does not wish to be known, tends to spread faster than just about anything. The day after Angel’s soul was sent into the aether by an act of love unparalleled by anything either participant ever experienced, news that Buffy was no longer seeing anyone could be heard all over the school. 

No one was sure how that rumor got started, but no one was disputing it, either. 

Naturally, it wasn’t known what happened to her dark mysterious boyfriend and no one in the know was telling, not even Cordelia Chase, and that was perhaps most surprising to anyone. All that was known was that Buffy was once again a free agent: she no longer had a beau, and it was time, to put it succinctly, to put the moves on her. Even if that now ex-beau was still seen about town, it was enough that the rumors suggested he was no longer with Buffy. Anything else was almost insignificant. 

Too bad the town of Sunnydale was so mired in denial that no one bothered to suspect anything more to the situation. But then, really, what could they suspect? Even if they’d known what ruled their town once the sun set, it wasn’t possible for them to fully grasp the situation with the one being who could actually do something about it. 

The high school boys planned out their moves; after all, Buffy Summers was one hot chick and now that she was free…. Moves that, for most of the guys in Sunnydale High, had been on hold since the blonde girl first transferred to the school; she was always off limits to them, no one wanting to get on the bad side of her tall, dark boyfriend, but now was the time to make up for all that. 

It was really too bad for them that the ‘boyfriend’ wasn’t about to allow that. 

Angelus was the jealous type. 

More than that, he was the controlling jealous type, with a need for Buffy that eclipsed all else. Angelus was loath to admit it, couldn’t understand it, but it was there. It was always there, simmering beneath the careful surface he presented to both Buffy and his childer, simmering with his needs and wants, his desire for the small blonde...human. 

Obsession, possession, jealously, need, want, a craving more intense than anything else in the world until he was mad with that need, and ready to kill anyone and anything that stood in his way. But the simple fact of the matter was that, to Angelus, Buffy was his. 

It didn’t matter that she was the slayer, she was his slayer. It didn’t matter that he belittled her at each and every turn, that was his – and only his – right. She was the one he wanted, therefore he was the only one she could see, anyone else was dead. 

Buffy was his, and there was no two ways about that. Sure, she was human and the slayer, and at times he really, really wanted to kill her, plus there was that little incident of making him – the soul damn it, it was the soul! – feel love in an all-consuming kind of way. 

But, idiotic as that soul was, it did one thing right. 

She hadn’t left. Even after all the words exchanged between them, even after all but telling her that he didn’t want her, even after trying to kill her best friend and destroy the world, she hadn’t left. Buffy still wanted him; she only admitted it to herself, and she didn’t understand it, but that didn’t matter. She was still so young and innocent, and Angelus understood that…but he didn’t care. 

He wanted her, and he wanted her to accept him for him, not for Angel. If Buffy hadn’t said that she loved all of Angel (I love you, I love all of you) then it wouldn’t matter. She hadn’t. She’d clamed to love the entire being. And Angelus was that being. 

She was his. 

Buffy had made it so, whether she knew it or not, the moment she whispered her love for him, and he'd kill anyone or thing that tried to persuade her otherwise.  

Buffy was definitely worthy of his affections…attentions, Angelus meant attentions. 

In fact, his little slayer was about the only one Angelus considered worthy of any affection (attention, damn it!) he might have. Never had he felt so consumed by anyone; there was Drusilla, true, when he heard her confession, over a century and a half ago to the priest Angelus had killed moments before. But Dru was different, she could see the future, could see into men’s souls, and Angelus wanted that for himself. Wanted her purity and innocence, wanted to corrupt that, mold that to his liking. 

It was a power play, pure and simple: he saw, he wanted, he conquered. Drusilla was a worthy chase, but she caved beneath his attentions. And once that happened, she lost some of her appeal. But Buffy…Buffy was different: she fought, she scratched, she defended, and she had yet to give in. That infuriated Angelus, but it turned him on in a big way, too. 

Because the capture was so much sweeter when the chase was returned. 

Buffy was his; no one else’s, nor would she ever be. When (If, it was definitely an ‘if’ and a far off one at that) he tired of her, never would Angelus allow her to have anyone else; he’d kill her first. And that was still a viable option. His obsession over Drusilla paled in comparison to his fascination with Buffy. There was an innocence to Buffy, true, but one that was tinged with a darkness that called to him. 

It was a fascinating dichotomy that he couldn’t help but want; Buffy’s darkness was the slayer, and despite the fact that the slayer was born to kill him, Angelus couldn’t help but want that part of her as much as he wanted her innocence. 

Okay, so he wanted that innocence to corrupt, but he wanted it all the same.

The strength, the power, the drive, the need that Buffy held within her was simply enchanting, and Angelus so enjoyed that about her. It was luscious and he wanted more, he wanted it all. Not being one to deny himself anything, let alone that which he craved most, Angelus was going to get her at all costs. 

Buffy would be his last and only love, and he hers; her passion and fire, her love and submission would inspire him endlessly throughout eternity. 

Standing in the shadows of the Bronze, watching his slayer’s pathetic friends try to cheer her up and help her forget the ‘love’ she had for Angel – in a day, right. How blind were they? Still, the worse her friends were about it all, the more chance he had of using that blind loyalty she felt towards them against her. 

Ah, what he could do to her in exchange for their pathetic lives. But for now, Angelus listened to what everyone else said about her. What they wanted to say to her. 

Three of them didn’t make it through the night. 

Brad Torrence, 6’3” blonde hair, blue eyes, was a senior basketball player, he had a scholarship to UC- Sunnydale, and his grades earned him a place on the honor roll. He was smart, nice, and popular. And he wanted the chick everyone talked about for a year. She was funny, he’d say, and give the example on how she’d made him laugh when he received his rejection letter from Duke. She was pretty and attentive, and he knew they’d get on just fine.

The fact that she had a great body, wasn’t afraid to show it off, and knew how to perform moves the likes of which he’d never seen only added to the attraction. That she was obviously strong and quick, that she could probably take him made the basketball player want her even more. 

It was his bad luck that Angelus happened to be right there as Brad told his friends how, now that Buffy wasn’t seeing that older guy any more, he was going to ask her out. “It’s time she got to know the guys in her class, in her school,” Brad said, a smug smile on his face. When his friends asked why he decided to make his move now, he just grinned. 

“A little birdy told me that now was the time.” Poor Brad never realized that the woman who told him of Buffy’s so-called free status did so because Dru knew her Angel needed to exorcise the denial he felt about his feelings towards Buffy. 

Drusilla’s little star couldn’t be touched by so dull a being, by a human; only her Angel could hold such brightness and sparkles. But her poor Angel was in such denial about the slayer that the rest of the stars worried. 

The would-be basketball star followed the blonde slayer outside as Buffy ditched her friends and went to mope in silence. Angelus followed Brad. 

Buffy turned left at the street entrance, intending on patrolling a little before heading home. She’d never admit it, or at least not the truth of it, but she was hoping to see Angel. She’d say it was because she wanted to fight him to…stake him. But the truth was that she still wanted him. Still loved and yearned for her Angel to come back to her, regardless of what he had become. 

She still hoped that he hadn’t changed as much as he, well, really had. That somehow, miraculously, through some extraordinary twist of events, he had turned back into the man she loved. 

It was a hopeless wish, and Buffy knew that. Mostly. 

She didn’t see Brad following her, never even realized that she was being followed, and that really just proved how mired in depression she was. Brad hurried to catch up with her, barely a minute behind her. He saw her turn left at the corner, and just as he was about to follow, a man stepped out in front of him. 

“Now see,” the stranger said, “It’s just not your night.” 

Brad looked at the man before him and realized who he was, Buffy’s ex. Everyone knew what Buffy’s ex looked like; it was pointed out rather quickly at the end of last year when the tall man scared off the senior quarterback, Grant Bulger. Now, as Brad stared at the man, pale in the moonlight, expensive clothes, and what could only be described as an evil glint in his dark eye, Brad wondered. 

What was he doing still following her? Had he turned into a stalker? Was that why they weren’t together any longer? Was that why she dumped him? Had Buffy realized that her boyfriend was a crazed psycho with a penchant for following women who no longer wanted him? 

Well, yes, but Brad would never realize just how close to the truth he was. 

Mustering all his bravado, Brad tried to smile. He was a tall, strong eighteen-year-old, and knew he could hold his own against most men. “I’m meeting a lady, man,” Brad said and nodded to his left, the direction Buffy took; she was no longer in sight, and Brad suppressed a sigh. 

“It’s dangerous at night,” the ex said, and Brad wondered at his tone as a fission of fear raced down his spine. “Ladies really shouldn’t wander around alone, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Brad nodded, “Yeah, totally. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” 

“But that’s another problem,” Angelus smirked, and Brad suddenly wondered if perhaps Buffy Summers was worth the trouble. “You’re following Buffy.” Brad didn’t even question how Buffy’s ex knew he was following her. “See,” and the slightly shorter man leaned closer, “She’s mine.” 

Before Brad had a chance to react, to do more than process that last sentence, the man before him shifted, his face becoming something…not human. A scream built, but never made it past his throat. In seconds, Angelus clamped his fangs into the boy who dared to think he had a chance with what was his, and quickly drained him. 

It didn’t help. Angelus could still feel the rage eating its way through him, threatening his very sanity, his normally steely resolve. But that was alright – the boy had friends.   

Dropping the body on the ground, Angelus turned back towards the Bronze, intent on teaching the now deceased boy’s friends the same lesson. It didn’t matter to him that Buffy was running from him as much as possible. Didn’t matter that he wanted to fuck her into oblivion and then possibly kill her, after he fucked her again. No, all that mattered was that she was his to do with as he pleased. 

And he had no intentions of sharing, ever, with others the very things that enchanted and exasperated him in equal measure. Angelus wasn’t pleased that she attracted so much outside attention, fortunately he was up to the challenge of eliminating those insignificant irritations.  

Brad’s friends, having waited an appropriate amount of time to follow their leader – two minutes, tops – were even now walking out of the Bronze, with the aim of seeing how it played out between the basketball player and the blonde. Angelus was awaiting them. 

Beyond angry over the entire episode, he quickly twisted the shorter one’s neck, laughing at the last boy’s face. “While I can’t fault you boys on your taste,” he said with a smirk and a growl, “I can fault you on your lack of manners. Buffy Summers is off limits. She’s mine, no one is to touch her, look at her, think about her.” 

The boy was frantically nodding and stumbling away, even as Angelus stalked towards him. “I-I-I’m so-sorry, man, I didn’t know…” 

Angelus shook his head, “That’s just no excuse.” 

And threw the last boy against the far wall, grinning in a malevolent and satisfied fashion when the cracking of the boy’s head echoed down the alleyway. Pausing for a brief second, Angelus shrugged and left the boy there, away from his friends who now lay dead side by side. Arranging them all together was a favorite pastime of his, but frankly, he had better things to do. 

Like stalk a slayer. 

This was a lesson she needed to learn, this was something she should have already realized, but Angelus was willing to teach her. Slowly, methodically, Buffy was going to learn the new way of life. 

“You, my darling slayer,” he said as he stalked behind her through one cemetery after another, “Are going to have to learn. And I’ll so enjoy teaching you.”
~~~~~~~~~~  
110 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go…  

“She’s got a new friend,” Drusilla whispered to Angelus as she cowered, naked, at the end of his bed.  

She wasn’t afraid of him, yet she was terrified of him at the same time. Angelus was vicious and cruel; his mercurial temper making him more dangerous than most, Dru knew that. But he was also her sire and was the one person she adored above all others, even her precious William. Angelus was the one to teach her and mold her, and the one to protect her for all those years. Dru knew that her visions were what attracted him to her in the first place, knew he tired of her and that was the reason he went off on his own for so long, to get away from her and from Darla.  

And Dru knew that only the sire/childe bond was what made him come back to her. That and the need to keep his Alpha-male personality in the forefront of everyone’s minds; it always worked, no one forgot Angelus.  

But now, now that his thoughts moved onto another, that bond was not the strongest one he had. It saddened Drusilla to know her daddy wanted another above her, but she knew the bright beautiful things her little star meant to do. Dru wanted to be a part of that, wanted to know that her place was still with daddy, even if daddy was preoccupied with her bright star.  

Sitting upright, Angelus stared at his finest creation. He knew his childe, and knew who she was talking about. Buffy…the thorn in his side, the constant thought in his head and an ache in his dead…obsessive…heart. Though he was loathe to admit it, Buffy was the reason he did everything he did; she was the reason he planned all he did.  

“What friend, Dru?” The sheet pooled around his pale, muscled abdomen as he waited for his childe’s answer, but Angelus didn’t notice.  

He’d taken his frustration in not having Buffy out on Drusilla, used her for the anger he felt at the blonde slayer and the hatred that welled within him at the mere thought of her. Which was often, considering she was the only damn thing he could think about, the only thing he wanted, the one thing he didn’t want to need.  

Dru took everything her sire dished out, loving the attention, the pain, the pleasure. She was what Angelus made her, and she wouldn’t want to be any other way. Her body held the bruising fingerprints of his hands, rough in their treatment of her, and her neck the closing holes where his fangs roughly dug into her skin. But the pleasure Angelus found in her was fleeting, and they both knew it.  

“A werewolf is in their midst: they don’t know it yet, but he’s scared, the power’s new to him, the feelings foreign.” Dru rose to her knees, leaning on the foot of the bed, her hair a tangle around her deceptively fragile and pale face, her eyes dark with things only she could see as she finished, “Darkness surrounds him. It eclipses the stars and the moon, but he doesn’t know it, thinks that nothing has changed.”  

“A werewolf?” Angelus smiled, a werewolf in dear Buff’s midst, wouldn’t it be perfect to bring him over to Angelus’ side?  

Traditionally, weres and vampires were enemies, both strong predators, but the werewolf was nearly mindless in his hunt, no part of the human brain remained, whereas the vampire retained all the intellect of its once human mind. If the human was stupid, the vampire was, but if the werewolf human was stupid, the werewolf was still a vicious creature. Mindless, but vicious.  

“Who is it, Dru?” He didn’t know of anyone who could have been turned into a wolf; there were none in Sunnydale, he’d have heard about them if there were. Then again, if it were Harris, he’d call every Were-Bounty Hunter in the Western Hemisphere himself, sit back and laugh as the boy was hunted.  

And then confront Buffy as he explained her next lesson. Friends were expendable when she didn’t do as he said. But so long as she obeyed him, Angelus could be generous with those beneath them.  

“He’s new, but he’s tangled with the witch.” Eyes drifting closed, Dru smiled dreamily. She swayed back and forth a little as that power washed over her, she wanted it; she wanted some of both their powers. “The witch is strong, but there’s a darkness in her that calls to me.” That darkness made Dru hungry, her powers were so violent, so delicious, so raw and untamed.  

“Witch? The gypsy?” Angelus smiled, the only being whose aura was in any way intertwined with that Gypsy bitch was Ripper. Ripper as a werewolf, all that dark power, all those magicks, ah, wouldn’t that be perfect…  

“No, no, the young one, the slayer’s friend.” Dru was unprepared for the backhanded slap that threw her against the far wall. She whimpered and looked up at Angelus, crawling back to the bed only when he motioned for her to do so.  

“Not what I wanted to hear,” he told her. If it were Xander, Angelus would have the wolf’s teeth as trophies, and Ripper, well, dark magicks and dark magicks, what a wonderful combination. The only being he knew of who was with Willow was that new kid, Oz. What good could he be? None, that was the answer, none…  

Hitting Drusilla again, with a roar of anger, Angelus revised that thought as he processed all of Drusilla’s ramblings. If the wolf was dating the redhead, and said redhead was best friend to the slayer, then maybe that did have possibilities. Anyone who was close to Buff was a target – mother, watcher, friends…and even friends’ boyfriends. Even that annoying chit Cordelia was a potential victim, though Angelus wasn’t sure what to do with her, other than muzzle the bitch.  

Well, maybe muzzle her as he fucked her, just to show her what she claimed to want. All that panting after Angel, disgusting, really.  

“Drusilla,” he commanded, “Come here.” She did so, crawling across the floor once again as her lip bled and her cheek bruised. “My dear Dru, what else do you see about this wolf and the slayer?”  

“Nothing, daddy,” Dru admitted in a small voice, her vision overwhelming her to the point where she reverted to a child. “He’s lost out there, the moon doesn’t guide him; it confuses him. He doesn’t know where to go, but he thinks the sun will still shine.”  

Releasing Drusilla and quickly dressing, Angelus went off to find the werewolf, certain that where he was Buffy would follow. She was such a bleeding heart, after all, how could she resist the temptation of saving such a creature?  

Not finding him as quickly as his patience allowed, Angelus moved swiftly and quietly down the street, looking for a nice meal. The perfect prey presented herself and who was he to resist? Oh, she looked so lost, so scared, so innocent. So perfect, because he knew who she was. Oh, not her name, for that was unimportant, but he knew she knew Buffy. And that was enough for Angelus.  

Any friend of Buffy’s…was good enough to torture, eat, and kill.  

“Hey,” Angelus said with his most charming smile, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Slight confusion, earnestness, it worked every time.  “Don’t you go to school with Buffy?” 

Hook…  

Theresa smiled and asked in a hopeful and absurdly trusting voice because Buffy was every damn one’s heroine, “Oh, you know Buffy?” 

Line…  

Angelus’ smile grew at the thought and his traitorous body tightened at how well he knew the slayer. “Yes, I do, very well.” 

Theresa’s smile broadened, feeling safe with the man who knew Buffy so well. She knew this man, after all, if only in the vague way of Buffy’s boyfriend. She’d thought they broke up, at least that was the rumor, but Buffy never said anything about it and Theresa didn’t put much faith in the high school gossip mill. “Oh.” 

“Come on,” Angelus said and offered his arm in a courtly gesture that had the girl smiling. “I’ll get you home.” 

Sinker...  

Humming an old Irish drinking song, Angelus reflected on the gullibility of this town. Theresa had no idea she was about to die and be reborn just to deliver a message to his Buffy. The things he did to make sure his little slayer didn’t forget him, the gifts he gave to her to show his affection. Smirking at Theresa as she went on and on about the merits of Buffy and how she was such a great person, Angelus quickly shut her up by sinking his fangs into her neck.

Ah, so sweet…

He wasn’t hungry – he was old enough where he didn’t have to feed often. No, he was angry. Buffy had a lot to make up for, and he had to start her payment somewhere. She also had a lot to learn, and this was only the beginning. 

Angelus had just completed the blood transfer, murmuring to the greedily gulping girl his message, when his senses flared. Ah, and here was his original quarry now. The scent of the werewolf couldn’t mask the faintly remembered scent of the boy, Oz. 

“Dru was right about you,” Angelus murmured, then growled a warning at the advancing werewolf. 

He wasn’t letting his present to Buffy go to waste; the wolf was for another time. He’d completed one task for the night, corrupting one of Buffy’s friends could wait, at least he knew the truth now. Not long, he wouldn’t wait long; Angelus thought it’d be so suitable to turn one of her friends to the dark side without really doing anything more than tempting him to choose.  

“Not tonight, little wolf,” he laughed, carrying his present back to where she’d be found sooner rather than later. “We’ll meet again when you’re Oz, and fighting yon beast.” 

The magicks in Oz were such that the boy couldn’t hold out for long against them. It was a temptation, the constant need to hunt, to stalk, and one that only the strongest of beings survived, and even then, not for long. Eventually, Oz would succumb to the wolf inside and let it overtake more of him; it was only then that a true merging of wolf and human could occur, and even that was rare.

Still, Angelus had his nightly Buffy Watch to do, wondering where his sassy slayer was at this moment. A night not spent watching her, as she struggled through her ‘duties,’ just wasn’t a night worth anything. Besides, he wanted to be there when she discovered Theresa’s dead body…and when his newest minion awoke with his message. 

(Angel sends his love…) There was more to the message, more about Angelus and lessons, but Xander killed Teresa before she could complete her only task. She probably didn’t realize that that was her sole purpose; Angelus would have laid money that she thought he’d actually want her once she returned to him. 

No matter, the deed was done, and Buffy knew… 

It was Drusilla who witnessed the scene between Buffy and Xander at Theresa’s viewing. The slayer didn’t see her, too preoccupied with her jabbering friend and trying to deal with the death of another friend…one killed by her lover. 

Hissing as she witnessed the comforting scene between the boy and her bright star, how the boy wanted to touch her star’s heat and light, Dru decided daddy needed to know. And maybe, once he was finished with the boy, daddy would let his Dru play with him. 

“A new toy for his Dru.”
~~~~~~~~~~  
100 Miss Edith Tea Parties To Go…  

A dozen red roses were only the first step.  

The second step was actually twofold. Part one being the gift he’d so lovingly laid out on Buffy’s bed, and part two being the fact that the moment she saw it, touched it, put it on, for Angelus had no doubts she’d be able to resist, he intended on taking her. No one denied him and that’s all his little slayer did.  

Deny his passion, deny his claim, deny her feelings and wants and most of all, deny the truth that she was his.  

He watched her from below just outside the library windows. Watched as she talked with the watcher, with Willow. She seemed distracted, but only to him. To them, she seemed perfectly normal, laughing, hanging out with them.  

“How blind are they?” He wondered aloud. “They don’t know you, my darling. They can’t feel your passions; they don’t know your deepest desires. The watcher should, but he’s blind to your pain, your delicious pain. Poor Ripper, so ill equipped to handle his slayer’s corruption.”  

Turning abruptly from the window just as Buffy’s eyes swept over the glass, Angelus returned to the factory, and his waiting family. Oh, yes, she was worthy. She was fire and passion and heat, and Angelus wanted it. he could no more deny himself than he could forget the way she felt beneath Angel as she came around him. There was still much to do, but the basis was laid.  

And the courtship begun.  

Jealously welled up in Spike as he spat at his grandsire, “You would do well to worry less about Dru, and more about that Slayer you’ve been tramping around with.” 

Angelus resisted, just barely, and he couldn’t place why he even bothered, the urge to rip Spike’s throat out. Was it what Drusilla told him days ago, about Angelus needing Spike? The older vampire didn’t need anyone, let alone a disrespectful pain in the ass grandchilde. Still, he stood and paced away from Spike, saying with a smirk that belied whatever feelings he had (didn’t have, there were no feelings there) for the slayer. 

His slayer. 

“Dear Buffy,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye, a hardening of his body, and a quickening of his blood, “I’m still trying to decide the best way to send my regards.” There was wooing involved first, just to soften his feisty slayer, then the real fun could begin. The fun he planned on having every night with his sweet slayer, teaching her, feeling her, tasting her, and never, ever letting her out of his sight. 

“Why don’t you rip her lungs out?” Spike suggested, tired of Angelus, tired of Buffy, tired of the whole damn town. He hated this place, and everything it represented to him and his fractured family. “It might make an impression.” 

But Angelus shook his head at Spike’s suggestion, dismissing something so messy, so, well, permanent. He had plans for his woman, plans that didn’t include her death. Or, well, not yet. There was time for his endgame, but this was not that. “Lacks...poetry, Spike, doesn’t have the meaning I want to send.”

“It doesn’t have to.” Spike said with a frown as he tried to goad the elder into doing something other than playing with his Dru. His Dru damn it, they were meant to be, damn it! “What rhymes with lungs? 

“Don’t worry, Spike.” Dru said with a soft sigh and a glance back at Angelus, smiling at something only she knew. “Angel always knows...” she looked down at the heart still on the table before her, “What speaks to a girl’s heart.” 

Yes, Angelus thought, he did indeed. Especially this girl. His girl.  

Drusilla insisted on accompanying him, for reasons that only she knew, but she swore that she’d not harm Buffy. Angelus permitted it, thinking that having his beautifully vicious childe with him would distract others from trying to take away his prize.  

That damn kid got in the way.  

If Angelus killed no other of her friends, if he somehow let all of them live, that stupid child, that annoying boy, that pain in his ass friend of hers would find himself dead. Whether Dru wanted him or not. No matter what Angelus had to do to ensure it, Xander Harris would die. As slowly and as painfully as the vampire could manage.  

And he’d had lots of practice in managing it.  

Magicks hung heavy in the air, but the Hellmouth always had some kind of charmed spell-like quality to it, so Angelus thought nothing of it. He watched the boy race into Buffy’s house with the loudmouth girlfriend, watched as both raced past Buffy’s bed where the present Angelus left was loving laid out, and watched as the boy leaned out the window.  

Hey, just because his original plan didn’t include leaving Harris’ dead body for Buffy to find just yet didn’t mean that Angelus wasn’t willing to compromise a little. Besides, the boy’s bloody hand holding Angelus’ gift to Buffy seemed somehow fitting. The vampire saw Cordelia look behind her at Buffy’s bed, saw her notice the gift he’d left, and saw the wheels of her mind working as she tried to process everything.  

But then Angelus was pulling the boy out the window, and the brunette forgot all about Buffy.  

And then it happened. What, Angelus wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew that Buffy was also somehow affected by the strange…strangeness of whatever gripped Sunnydale. And the vampire knew the one to blame for it was Harris. Angelus’d get the boy back later, he decided as he quickly climbed the tree once more, retrieving the gift from the bed, but first things first; he now had to hand deliver Buffy’s little present.  

“You better have been a good girl, my love.” he said as he tracked her scent to the high school. “Or the dead will be your fault.”

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