A Sickly Stain Whispers In Our Hearts

“Sorry to interrupt, Angel. Buffy, has a phone call.” Joyce Summers stood in front of her daughter with a pleasant expression, completely ignorant to the fact that a part of the tutor’s anatomy was buried deeply within his pupil.

“It’s not a problem,” Angelus murmured while briefly retracting his potentially fatal hold. “Just as long Buffy keeps her conversation short. We’re definitely still in the middle of something.” His smooth voice held no real censure, merely friendly firmness.

“Oh, of course.”

“Good,” he replied softly before returning to his place of comfort. This time, however, Angelus slid his fangs in with such exquisite sweetness, such delicious reverence that Buffy’s body fell apart in his arms.

She immediately bit her lips until they bled as the wretched pleasure made a fool of her inhibitions. Her traitorous womb keened with explosive ecstasy while Angelus continued to feed. The feelings intensified when he started cleverly thrusting his lean hips, pushing himself even deeper inside.

“It’s Willow,” Joyce mentioned quietly, conscious to keep her hand over the receiver. “Do you want me to tell her you’re in the shower or maybe studying?”

Mom remembered to keep my ‘tutoring sessions’ secret. She doesn’t want to embarrass me, so she’s willing to cover for me---even if she has to lie to my friends. Faced with another example of her mother’s love, Buffy experienced a dark shame unlike any she undergone so far.

Meanwhile, her vampiric lover continued to invade her body with thorough possessiveness, branding her insides as his---regardless of who was present.

Please stop! Just stop! Don’t you have any shame? This is my mother! Don’t do this anymore! However, she didn’t dare speak aloud the words screaming in her mind. After all, anything above a whisper might very well destroy the illusion her lover had carefully wrought.

At least, that was the only way the impaled girl could justify her miserable silence.

“Buffy?” A small frown creased Joyce’s brow. It was apparent that she was growing concerned over her daughter’s continued silence.

Without turning her head, she knew that Angelus’ predatory gaze was trained on every nuance of her posture. Buffy understood that this moment too gave him depraved sustenance, even though his throat continued to slowly swallow pieces of life from her veins.

“Answer her, darling,” he whispered while still clamped on her shoulder.

She closed her eyes, unable to face the woman who had given her life. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I became this…thing. I’m so sorry. Reaching out with one hand, Buffy took the phone and whispered, “I’ll talk to her. Thank you.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be in my office.” Giving a friendly nod at the immoral man who had her daughter imprisoned in a silken world without walls, Joyce exited the room.

“Good, girl,” Angelus crooned in a ghost of a sigh as he released his mistress’ shoulder. Whether he was referring to Buffy or Joyce was left unknown.

“Hello?” She knew her voice was cheerful and normal, even if her actions were not.

“Buffy! Hey, what are you up to?”

Angelus’ hands had moved to her waist, caressing it with an angelic touch, before going lower. Closing her eye, she gave a guilty start before answering, “Oh, not much. Just hanging out.” Stop, her mind cried even as her secret lips easily parted for his questing fingers.

“Good,” Willow chirped cheerfully. “Then you’re free to go out with me and Oz.”

“What?” the Slyer cried in surprise, completely filled by Angelus as he stretched her delicate tissues from above and below. His cool tongue then began to lazily lap away at the remaining traces of blood left from her healed wound.

“We haven’t hung out in a while, so I thought that we should, you know, remedy that.”

Buffy’s head dropped down as her mouth grew slack with desire. “Uhh…Will…umm…” It was difficult to remember her innocent role while her vampire lover skillfully underscored a drama filled with dark sonnets with each touch of his mouth.

“Besides, you never know who you might bump into.”

Willow’s overly casual statement instantly raised a red flag in Buffy’s mind as her head snapped up. “What do you mean?” She tried to stand when Angelus’ let out a low, warning growl. Glancing over her shoulder, she mouthed the words ‘Let me go’ only to see him return the gesture with the word ‘No.’

“What?”

Giving Angelus a decidedly nasty glare, Buffy turned her attention to the sound of her friend’s voice. Okay, she’s definitely guilty. “Willow,” she murmured in a cajoling tone, punctuated by a hitch in her breathing as Angelus resumed his thorough thrusting. It was apparent he could hear every word being said and therefore his actions indicated there was nothing of interest to him.

Buffy had the feeling that would soon no longer be the case.

“Umm…uh…oh. It’s nothing big.”

“Willow.”

“Oh, okay!” the redhead rushed out in a high-pitched sigh. “It’s just that I thought we should spend some non-Slayer time together. Color me guilty.”

Buffy was not taken in by the lighthearted laughter echoing across a mile of wire. “Out with it, Will,” she demanded while trying to judge how the male behind her would soon be taking it.

A staid pause passed before the feminine voice on the other end spilled the other half in a rush. “And Oz’s cousin is in town, so I thought maybe we could just all hang out.”

Damnit! “It’s not the same cousin who’s ‘Grr’ is it?” A pale hand reached for Buffy’s chin from behind and turned it. Angelus’ mouth covered hers in a voracious kiss.

“Oh, no. That’s his other cousin. Brian is completely human,” she heard through the pounding of her heart.

“So what do you say? Wanna come out with us?”

Buffy kissed Angelus a final time before turning her attention back to Willow. “Thanks, Will. But I think I’ll just keep close to home tonight.”

“Oh, are you sure?” The disappointment in the redhead’s voice was evident.

Angelus wrapped his arms around Buffy’s slim waist and lifted her up, only to turn her so she could face him. Their eyes held, as an indefinable current crackled between them. Within seconds, he slowly impaled her to the hilt, stretching sensitive tissues to the point of exquisitely, beautiful pain.

And all while keeping her gaze captured beneath his own.

I need him. I need this. I can’t live without him. I already tried.

A smirk lifted the corner of his well-shaped mouth, almost as if he had heard her silent pledges. Closing his eyes, he broke the spell and masked his dark stare, but not his emotions. Angelus’ pleasure was unashamedly laid bare to Buffy’s perusal, therefore increasing her own.

I love this man. Oh, I love him so much.

“I mean, you have to go on patrol tonight, so…”

Buffy’s head slowly dropped down and the fingers around the phone grew slack as her body submissively sought to accommodate her lover’s girth. However, her voice, when it finally came, was perfectly modulated as she answered Willow’s question.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Tonight’s just one of those nights, you know?”

A brief moment passed in silence before Willow quietly murmured, “How are things going?”

Buffy’s heart sped up, alerting Angelus that her friend’s question agitated her. He brought his hand to her bowed head and gently tilted it back. His black eyes probed hers fiercely, seeking answers to questions she could only guess at.

Caught beneath his ruthless stare, she could feel her eyes helplessly well up with tears. I don’t want to be weak. I don’t. But times like this…I just…can’t help it. One questions has the power to break me.

After a few enigmatic moments, he brought his mouth down to her naked breasts and began caressing them with his particular brand of razor-sharp pleasure.

Swallowing with difficulty, Buffy lowered her lids and whispered, “As good as it can be.” Let it drop.

“I know it can’t be easy,” Willow pointed out with concern.

She pressed her lips together, desperately wanting to keep her thoughts silent, yet her mouth betrayed her with honesty.

“It’s not.” Angelus paused in the midst of his addictive ministrations and tilted his gaze upwards.

“Buffy…I’m worried.”

Don’t say it. Feeling her lover’s speculative scrutiny, the blonde girl turned her face to the side. “I’m okay now.” She forced a note of joviality to her voice. “Really.”

However, Willow was not going to allow herself to be swayed from whatever was on her mind.

“I’ve never seen you fall apart like that.”

“Willow, I don’t want to talk about this,” Buffy firmly declared.

“We need to,” was the instant response.

“Why?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

Upon hearing her friend’s keen question, Buffy felt her defenses crack. She didn’t have an answer. At least one not fraught with mistruths.

“I…”

Willow abruptly broke through Buffy’s uncomfortable pause and rushed out, “And what about the other, Buffy? If we hadn’t been there, Angelus might have…well…it wouldn’t have been good.”

Despair darkened the Slayer’s features as she remembered.

“I know.”

Angelus pulled away, leaving her body colder than when his flesh was pressed against it. His detached gaze held curiosity within, before uncompromising awareness shuttered all.

He remembers. We both do. And yet, we’ve been able to pretend as if it never happened. Until now.

“I never knew Angel…I mean, Angelus…could be so…INSANE. Buffy, we all thought maybe things were different. That maybe he wasn’t obsessed, but we were wrong.” Willow paused for several seconds, as if remembering the events prompting her next words. “The way he looked at you…I never saw such hatred before. I never saw someone look so out of control.”

Angelus’ features grew remote with each word Willow uttered. Although they were in the most intimate of embraces, she could physically sense him pulling away.

Closing her eyes once more, Buffy dismally wondered just how many times could she fight Fate to keep her life with Angelus.

Even if it was so wrong.

“Seems your master has tired of you, Whore,” the nameless vampire with brown hair sneered. “He thinks you’re so beneath him that he won’t even kill you himself. Instead he sends for scum like us.”

Seeing the Slayer’s face remain still and unruffled, his nondescript, blue-eyed companion crowed with cruel delight, “I can’t even smell Angelus’ spunk on her. Hell, that tells me she’s not even worth a goodbye fuck.”

The brunette creature ran his lustful gaze over Buffy’s barely concealed curves and purred, “Now we can’t let her die so rejected, can we?”

Stepping forward the other replied, “No, we can’t. After all, we’re merciful villains.”

Both began circling her, in sadistic anticipation rather than martial skill.

“What do you think she did?”

“Who cares? She’s a dirty Slayer---that’s enough to tear her fucking arms off.”

The pale-eyed vampire snickered. “I heard that Angelus raped her in front of the Gathering and not only did the stupid bitch take it, she accepted to be his plaything afterwards.”

This seemed to peak the other’s jaded interest. “Is that true, Buffy?” he drawled, adding stress to her name. “Did you become your rapist’s whore willingly?”

Disappointed that the Slayer didn’t even bother to grace them with an offended glance, the summoned assassins took their verbal attacks up one final notch.

“Which end do you want?”

“I don’t know---most of her looks…tasty.”

“Well, I want her ass.”

“Hmm…not a bad choice. Although her ass is still a bit on the scrawny side.” Licking his lips, the dark-haired demon whispered, “I’ll just have to settle for her tired…useless…human…whorish…REJECTED CUNT.”

Buffy finally spoke.

“Wrong.”

Eyeing both of the perverted, wretched vampires, she smiled beautifully before launching into her first attack. However, instead of dispatching her opponents instantly, the Slayer began wordlessly taunting them.

It began with teasing kicks to their unprotected areas of vulnerability. It soon moved to rough shoves that sent the pseudo-men crashing to their knees. It finally culminated to contemptuous slaps across their ridged faces.

And all this occurred without Buffy saying a word.

Of course, the vampires’ reactions were laughably predictable by her standards. The retaliations became less calculated and more a product of raw fury.

Just as Buffy had planned.

As time passed by, the two assassins realized that despite all their concentrated efforts, the Slayer had complete control of the match.

Nothing they said, did, or threatened changed the course of their final destiny.

Once that realization came, both creatures lost control.

And it was only then, after completely breaking their spirit with her actions and silence, that the Slayer made the decision to put them down.

Going through the fluidly macabre motions of vampiric warfare, Buffy’s face held no mercy. She leapt into the motionless air above with stake in hand, finally ready to strike with flawless precision. The enraged beings charging at her stirred no fear or intimidation---merely a sense of duty.

Then it was over.

With a deliberate coordination of tissue and muscle, Buffy thrust her stake into one heart before immediately destroying the other. Landing gracefully on the ground, with a macabre snowfall of ash floating above her, the Slayer could feel a set of demonic eyes on her.

Yet, she dismissed their silent call---just as she had every night for the past week.

Turning away, Buffy strolled out of the cemetery on steady legs and made her way home. She never acknowledged the shadow trailing her steps as she turned the corner. She blatantly ignored the dementia possessing her veins as they traitorously cried out to sustain someone who was no longer a part of her life.

‘It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.’ The internal mantra only made Buffy feel worse. ‘I just won’t think about him. I’ll pretend like it never happened.’ A bitter smile twisted her pink mouth, breaking the unnatural stillness of her face. ‘If that’s so true, then why haven’t I thrown everything he’s ever given me away? Why do I still wear his chains?’

Not having an answer, Buffy spent the rest of her short walk purposely not thinking about anything except putting one foot in front of the other. Soon she was in front of her darkened house. Easily climbing up to her window, she had both hands on the sill when she felt him behind her.

“Buffy?”

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and evenly answered, “I’m still here.”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel bad,” Willow apologized in regretful voice. “That’s not my intention, but pretending like it never happened will only make things worse in the end.”

She glanced up at the cold face of her lover and wondered just how true that was. Buffy could only hope that their night would end up in some semblance of peace.

“We all want to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Well, Angelus can’t continue to…BE…here.”

“You mean you want to help me kill him?!”

“Buffy? I-I don’t understand. Why do you sound like that?”

A small smile of cynical amusement flashed across Angelus’ mouth before sliding away. His mistress’ voice had flared up into barely suppressed rage at the suggestion of ending his existence. Apparently, Buffy’s present loyalty couldn’t be questioned and he should be pleased.

But at the moment he couldn’t because it simply wasn’t enough.

Unfortunately, Willow’s untimely intrusion had brought distasteful memories to life. They had also brought up a reminder of the sick poison that both Buffy and himself eagerly lapped up.

Denial.

Angelus could’ve sworn he could feel the beginnings of a headache, even though it shouldn’t have been impossible. Sitting on the couch, with the accoutrements of tutoring tucked safely away in his black bag, he dutifully awaited for Buffy to arrive home.

And although his expression remained attentive to Joyce’s incessant chirping, inside he felt as raw as the first time he had ever been tortured.

Buffy was rejecting him.

‘She has no choice tonight. She HAS to see me. I know she’ll do anything to keep Mommy-Dearest ignorant and happy.’ Yet, despite his arrogant reasoning, Angelus felt a tremor of uncertainty. So far, all of his courting had earned him nothing but cold silence.

Nodding when appropriate, he kept his senses alert for the faintest pulse signifying his human lover’s presence.

However, as the minutes creaked by, the vampire could feel shameful desperation claw its way through his dead gut. ‘What if she doesn’t come home? Buffy knows tonight is her ‘tutoring’ night. What if she just decides not to show up?’

“No.”

Joyce paused in the midst of declaring how excited she was for Buffy’s grades to come in. “Excuse me?”

Fixing an apologetic grin on his face, Angelus shook his head and murmured, “I’m sorry. I just remembered something and it slipped out.”

“Oh, okay.” With that said, his mistress’ mother continued on with her tale of SATs and upcoming college applications.

Meanwhile, the vampire forced his chest to mimic the motions of breathing and suddenly found the actions strangely calming. ‘Buffy has no choice. She’ll come home to me.’

Training his dark gaze on the entryway, Angelus thought back on the past few days. After the first night, he had sought his erring mistress out, only to find her unwilling to even acknowledge his presence.

He had spoken to her, even walked beside her, yet she no more noticed him than she did any of the other strangers they occasionally passed. He had thought she would’ve at least wanted to shove him into some convenient alley or side street just so no one would see them.

And at the moment, he wouldn’t have cared if her entire pack found out. Apparently, neither did she for she kept her pace even and steady.

When they finally reached the humble Summers’ residence, Buffy never paused on her journey to the front door.

Seeing she had every intention of shutting him out, he pushed his shoulder through and growled, “Buff!”

Buffy had turned around, looked straight through him, and shoved him out before softly shutting the door in his face.

While Angelus could’ve forced the issue, he had reluctantly opted for retreat. It hadn’t been the first time a woman had been piqued with him and he always had the solution.

From then on, he had inundated her with flowers.

Dozens of ruby roses graced her front porch, locker, room, and cemetery. Surely she would view those delicate beauties as the peace offering they were! Waiting patiently in his Sunnydale palace, Angelus had tensely waited for the elevator to open and his blonde pet to joyfully leap into his embrace.

Buffy had not.

Instead, Angelus had eventually found his crimson gifts littering surfaces other than those in her possession. The bouquets placed in strategic areas throughout the cemetery were merely moved and placed at the base of unornamented graves. The roses delivered to her in school had gone to decorate the teachers’ lounge and front office. The ones left on the front porch and her room had been distributed to various people throughout the neighborhood.

It had infuriated Angelus beyond limits to stalk through the streets and smell his gifts adorning various stinking human hovels.

But what bothered him more was that they still existed unharmed.

If Buffy had shredded his roses or thrown them away, then he would’ve smiled in pleasure. He would’ve known he still had the power to affect her.

But her actions were so…so…DISMISSING.

By giving them all away, she was eloquently telling him that nothing he did was of consequence.

And that just couldn’t be possible.

“What do you think?”

Rudely torn from his thoughts, Angelus was completely stumped to what Joyce was alluding to. Tilting his head to the side in charming fashion, he begged her pardon. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question again?”

Despite seeming a little confused by his uncharacteristic behavior, she obliged him. “Do you think Buffy could benefit from an SAT prep course?” Setting her cup on the coffee table, she clarified, “Do you think it’s too late to sign her up for one this semester?”

‘Oh, what the fuck do I care about Buffy and college? When I have my way, we’re leaving this crappy shit hole ASAP! Slayer or not!’ He leaned forward and placed the cup and saucer on the table as well before answering. “I’m sure Buffy could benefit from taking a course. If anything, it would help break her nerves by experiencing a test run.”

“But did I wait too long to sign her up?”

“Probably not. You should check some of the local community colleges in the area and see what they’re offering.” Pasting a friendly smile on his face, Angelus offered, “In fact, I can check for you.”

“Oh, would you? I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind. Buffy is my responsibility and I take it very seriously. I want her success just as much as you do, if not more.”

Joyce’s smile slipped a bit. Despite Angelus’ non-threatening façade, a tiny portion of his ardor had slipped through and alerted her dormant instincts.

‘Shit! I’ve gotten sloppy. I never would’ve made this kind of mistake before. Never!’

“Buffy, Oz and I are coming over.”

“What? No, it’s definitely not a good time.”

“We’ll be there in about ten minutes---without Brian.”

“Willow, I love you guys, but I don’t want to see anybody right now.”

“Buffy, we’re coming over.” The phone immediately went dead.

His mistress stared at the piece of plastic in her hand and immediately hissed, “SHIT! Why does Willow have to get all resolve-faced now? Damnit!”

Angelus carefully took the phone out of Buffy’s hand, drawing her frown to him.

“It always has to come to an end, doesn’t it?” he whispered as he settled his mouth over hers.

Tossing the receiver onto the couch, he settled his hands on her hips and began lifting her up and down. No matter what I or Buffy try to do, it seems that the end is never far away. As a result, Angelus drove into her small body with a fierceness born from knowing their precious time was being unfairly cut short.

In return, Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and ground down upon his rigid length, seeking to aid his pursuit of hedonistic pleasure. “I don’t want you to have to leave,” she moaned in distress against his mouth. “I don’t want…”

Angelus’ moment of weakness came when he whispered in return, “Come with me. Let’s just go.”

Temptation made its mark on her hungry gaze.

“How can I? They’ll be here soon.”

Burying his face against her neck, Angelus moaned loudly as blessed ecstasy began churning for release. He ran his lips across the graceful column, over and over again, before answering. “Tell Joyce you’re going to mall and that you’ll be back by 10:30.”

She clutched the back of his head while shaking hers. “The mall’s closed and there’s no way she’ll let me stay out that late. Not on a tutoring night.”

Careful not to dislodge his position, Angelus abruptly lifted her up and pressed Buffy down against the couch. Holding himself on his arms, he looked into her eyes and felt his demon rail against the foreign tenderness springing within.

“FUCKING BITCH! HOW CAN SHE HAVE THIS MUCH POWER OVER YOU!”

However, instead of falling into the darkness of his being, the vampire merely whispered, “Just come with me. Come.”

The awkwardness of discovery passed, as Buffy opened the door and casually walked into the house.

Angelus’ relief at having to avoid a potentially unpleasant situation was surpassed by the pleasure he felt in being so close his mistress. His eyes flashed golden in welcome as he politely stood up.

“Hey, Mom.” She pointedly ignored Angelus, once more making Joyce unsure of the barely tangible currents swirling around the trio.

Apparently shaking off her doubts, the older woman smiled and murmured, “You’re a little late, Buffy. Did you forget about tonight?”

“Nope.” Before either adult could say anything, Buffy stated, “I just didn’t care.”

While his expression shifted to that of a concerned tutor, inside Angelus couldn’t believe her actions. He had been so sure that this visit would finally be the way back into her graces.

After all, he had exhausted every other avenue available to him.

Where the roses had failed, he had then decided to woo her with his presence. Once she stepped her dainty foot outside, everywhere she went, so did he. The daylight meant little to him in regards to the library. As Buffy sat there with her clueless Watcher and equally clueless companions, he had stood cloaked in clandestine shadow and greedily devoured her scent.

He would watch as she later flawlessly executed the movements that had spelled the mortal doom of so many vampires. Intently studying Buffy’s lithe form as it spun, twisted, and leapt into air, he could feel his arousal pressing insistently for such a dangerous girl.

Confined to the fringes of her daily existence, Angelus’ fangs would elongate, screaming for just one taste of her, just one tiny bead of her sweat and blood. ‘She’s a goddess. She’s MY personal goddess of Death. Her body is capable of so much destruction, yet I’M the only vampire in existence who knows how sweet she sounds when she comes. MY name is the ONLY one she moans.’

Just being witness to this side of her life, kept Angelus in manic state of nearly intolerable joy.

In spite of the fact Buffy ignored his attendance.

However, he KNEW she saw him. While it wasn’t enough, he would have to accept it as long as the sun made its hatefully slow journey across the skies. But once night fell, the tale would be one of a different telling.

‘She’ll come to me. She has to. Buffy’s addiction runs as deep as mine. I’ve taught her body too well.’

So as the hours passed, Angelus had expected his little Slayer to approach him in warning, just so she could offer some sort of protection for her circle of confidants.

He had waited in vain.

Buffy never came to his damned corner of humiliating vigilance and therefore, her message had been clear. ‘You’re not enough of a threat to me, because you’re no one.’

Once the realization set in, Angelus had desired to give into his immediate need for vengeance and destruction. He had wanted to tear the ridiculous library apart, along with everyone in it. But he couldn’t.

While his cold bitch had never directly acknowledged his presence, her eyes spoke of a terrible consequence if he even DARED do more than sulk in the shadows.

Retreating in apoplectic rage, he had been forced to wait for another setting, namely the cemeteries. ‘You won’t punish me for something so stupid, Buffy. I won’t let you.’

Unfortunately, it had been an even greater disaster.

Buffy wouldn’t even look at Angelus. Anytime he had managed to place himself directly in her sight, she saw right through him. The beautiful hazel orbs he had gazed into so often no longer held him within their depths. Once, she saw a world where he ruled the center, but now his throne and court were gone, dissolved beneath the careless poison of conceited words.

And there seemed to be nothing Angelus could do to change it.

Sitting in the darkness, he had felt a twinge of hunger before ruthlessly suppressing it. While he had fed from a pretty girl the night after she walked away out of spite, it had made him ill. Chalking the experience up to a bad batch of blood, Angelus had refused another neck. He wouldn’t feed unless the crimson feast was one given by his mistress.

‘She’ll come to me. I know she will. It’s her pride that told her to keep away in the library. I understand. I shouldn’t have gone there. I won’t do it again.’

But Buffy never came.

As the days made their excruciatingly slow passage, he had refused to recognize the effect her absence was having on him. He stopped showering and had allowed his hair to become a disheveled, dusty mess. His clothes bore the stains of spilled blood, stale liquor, and traces of vomit. He was disgusting but he couldn’t care. ‘Where is she? How can she stand the separation?’

Not bothered by how insane he appeared, Angelus had then begun giving full rein to his frustration audibly.

“What the fuck did I do anyway?” he had shouted at the still-impaled canvas replica. “So what if I said what I did? How different was it to any of the other million asshole things I’ve said to you before?” Grabbing a hapless paperweight, he flung into the fireplace with a roar.

“WHY THE HELL AREN’T YOU HERE?”

However, the oppressive silence was his only companion, slyly reminding him if Buffy were there, it could not exist. If Buffy were there, he wouldn’t have to address her inanimate twin, but her.

Dropping to the ground, he had rested his head against his hands.

“What what have I done?” he whispered in a raw voice. “I drove her away. Just like I did with every single one of them.” Clenching his fists, Angelus choked out, “But this time SHE was different. Buffy loved me.” Hearing the past tense of one word made his stomach roil painfully. He placed a shaky hand against his bare flesh and wondered if the pain was a result of hunger. “I’m not a green vampire. I’m old enough to survive this and more,” he muttered in confusion.

Left with nothing but his thoughts, Angelus could swear he had heard the ghost of Buffy’s laughter. A vague smile had lifted his lips as he remembered when things began to change.

After they had settled into their liaison, she had brought so much life to his home. No longer was Buffy a morally crippled girl who loathed herself and writhed under the lash of guilt. She had been happy. Whether she was talking to him about her day, singing in the shower, or moaning beneath him, Buffy had made eternity beautiful. She had showed him that his existence did not have to burn with the stench of evil in order to be interesting.

Lifting his head, he stared blankly at the painted mural adorning the ceiling. The beautiful woman staring down at him bore HER face and HER smile. “Buffy never noticed that she was the model.” He let out a mocking chuckle as he stated quietly, “I had thought it would be amusing to give her such dubious status when I commissioned it. After all, it was supposed to be a reminder of what my goal was: her seduction and death.”

He had closed his eyes and turned away.

“Now she’s gone and she doesn’t want to come back. And she didn’t run away from town. If she had, I could’ve drug her ass back. And he didn’t hide from me in this town. I could’ve relished the simple challenge of finding her. I would’ve then forced her to me. And she didn’t even try to replace me with someone else. I could’ve then killed him and proved my devotion.”

Angelus’ gaze flew open. Standing up he had violently shook his head and whispered loudly, “No, not devotion. My…intentions.” Satisfied with his word choice, he left the empty room and muttered, “Yes, my intentions. I could’ve proved my INTENTIONS to her with his bloody corpse.”

Stalking into the bedchamber, Angelus had stared at the remnants of their fight. For reasons he didn’t want to examine, he had left everything as it was. A memory of Buffy shrieking in delight as she jumped on the bed playfully assaulted him. All his growled threats only had made her laugh. “Come on,” she had sweetly invited. “It’s fun.”

Slowly approaching the empty bed, he could see thick splinters of wood scattered across the massacred bed sheets.

“I could understand if she did any of those things, but this I don’t.” His brows lowered in genuine confusion. “I’ve watched her sleep at night and she doesn’t cry for me.” Tracing the patterns on the intricately carved bedpost, he murmured, “She doesn’t look like she’s suffering. She’s living her life without me, as if I had never been a part of it.”

Whipping his hand away, Angelus had felt trapped. “I HAVE to see her! I NEED to make this stop!” Pacing through the claustrophobic confines of his gilded cage, he had suddenly remembered his cell phone. “How stupid am I? I forgot I could call her!” Within seconds, he had torn across the room and frantically searched for his phone. Several dusters found themselves on the floor with a vile curse before his hands had found it.

After punching in her number, he held the tiny phone up to his ear. The sounds of ringing were the most glorious music Angelus could’ve heard, second only to the beautiful cadence of her voice.

The connection opened, but he hadn’t heard anything, not even a simple hello. Instead, the silence had been long, its tone thick and heavy. Finally unable to control himself, he rasped, “Buffy?”

Without another sound being exchanged, the phone disconnected.

Numbly bringing his hand down, he stared in disbelief as read the words: “Call ended. 00:01:03”

He had dialed the number again and let it ring. No answer. Hitting the “End” button, he began the process again when Angelus belatedly remembered her number was stored in his phone. His fingers furiously went through the motions of pressing several buttons just in order to save time of redialing four more.

Crouched in the doorway of his dressing room, he agitatedly tapped his fingers against the marble floor. “You’ll eventually get tired of me calling, Baby. You might as well pick up.” Over and over again, he repeated the process of connecting to her number. Every time he thought, ‘Finally!’ only to have a cheerful voice inform him “The party you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try back later.”

Hours had passed while Angelus obsessively went through the same motions and heard the same message. He was beyond furious. He was beyond reason.

“You have to answer it. You have to.”

Finally the phone rang. Only it wasn’t the one in his hand. “Buffy!” Springing up, he hadn’t cared that he would look weak and out of control. He tore into the living area but had found it painfully empty of her presence. “I don’t understand,” he had whispered, while his hand hung limp.

A phone rang again.

Angelus had then realized it was his landline and not the companion to the one in his hand. Walking into his wrecked office, he had shoved several pieces of paper off the phone and onto the floor. Lifting the receiver he had croaked out, “Hello?”

“Mr. Gryphon, this is the concierge. We’ve just received a package for you. Would you like us to deliver it now, or would you prefer for us to wait until nightfall?”

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he had gruffly replied, “Now.”

“Very well.”

Impatiently he had waited in front of the elevator, pacing back and forth while the cell phone was still clutched in his hand. Finally the light appeared, alerting him that an employee was awaiting his permission to enter. Hastily punching in the code, he had barely allowed the door to open before snatching the large envelope from the man’s hand.

The elevator slid closed and began descending as Angelus had stared at the package in his possession. Buffy’s scent was overpowering him. “This was in her hand. She left this for me. Why?” Staring up at him was his name scrawled in her girlish handwriting. A poisoned finger of foreboding touched him as he had opened the envelope.

There was no note, only an item. Tilting the package, it had slid into his hand. He let the empty envelope flutter to the floor as he had lifted both hands into the air. “She gave it back to me. She gave me back her phone.”

Angelus’ rejection had been complete. Not only did her eyes not see him and her voice not reach him, now her ears wouldn’t hear him.

Too defeated to wallow in cleansing rage, he had closeted himself in the small screening room and played countless tapes of Buffy.

Buffy smiling. Buffy screaming bloody murder at him. Buffy baking him a cake. Buffy doing laundry. Buffy watching TV. Buffy sleeping. Buffy laughing. Buffy crying. Buffy moaning softly as she fell apart in his arms.

They had all played at the same time.

Slumped on the couch he watched them with the same intensity he had displayed with the phone. When one tape finished, he had it start from the beginning. His mind had held nothing but the memories of those moments reflected on nine screens.

Then he had remembered what day it was.

“I have to tutor Buffy tonight!”

A sense of urgency had then possessed Angelus. Glancing at a clock he saw that he still had an hour to make it to his mistress’ house. After showering and grooming with extra care, he had spent the better part of fifteen minutes trying to decide what to wear. “It has to be perfect,” he had mumbled aloud as he debated between five different pairs of black slacks.

Eventually the wardrobe had come to together and he had left his building for the first time in two days.

Now he was standing before Buffy and she had just finished saying, “Nope. I just didn’t care.”

“What do you mean that you don’t care?” Joyce’s voice was stern and filled with equal parts shock and embarrassment over her daughter’s behavior. “Angel doesn’t have to spend his evenings helping you. For free at that!” Seeing Buffy’s face remain impassive, she cried, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Are you upset with me?” Angelus softly asked, drawing the older woman’s surprised attention. ‘Back down, Baby. We don’t need to fight in front of your mother.’

She met his dark gaze immediately. “No. I’m not angry with you at all,” she replied in a non-aggressive tone. “I just don’t want to be tutored anymore. I don’t need it.”

“Buffy---” Joyce began before being abruptly interrupted by her daughter.

“Mom, I’m tired of all the work I’m doing!” Buffy exclaimed in a drained voice. “I’m never home because I’m always at school. And when I come home, I have to study with Angel. I’m burning out and I need my space.”

Several seconds elapsed as Joyce mulled over those words. Angelus spoke in the ensuing silence.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before, Buffy?”

“Because Angel---I didn’t need to.”

‘She said that damned name so casually. Even though she knows how much I hate hearing it from her!’

“The only person I should’ve told was my mom.” Turning towards her mother, Buffy quietly apologized. “I’m sorry. I know I should’ve told you this earlier. Then you could’ve called Angel and told him what’s going on.”

Joyce let out a worried sigh. A note of irritation colored her words as she pointed out, “I’m not the one you need to apologize to. It’s Angel.”

Buffy nodded her head in acceptance. “You’re right, Mom.” She met his black gaze steadily and said, “I’m sorry to make you come out all this way, Angel. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but from now on I don’t need you anymore.”

‘Not this too! She can’t do this!’ “I disagree, Buffy. You have finals coming up and while I’m pleased with your tremendous progress---”

“Look, I know you’re probably already busy with other students because finals will be here,” she interrupted with polite finesse. “Like you’ve said before---you enjoy a challenge. I used to be one, but now I’ve proved that I can do this on my own.”

Although her words were appropriate to the topic, Angelus heard the dig. ‘Buffy’s throwing it in my face.’

“Well, Buffy,” Joyce began slowly. “I have to say I don’t like the way this has been handled, but if that’s how you feel…I guess there’ll be no more tutoring.”

Angelus’ mind began drowning beneath a cold sea of bitter shock. ‘I won’t have a reason to come here anymore. No! I can’t let that happen.’ “I have to let it be known, Joyce, that I severely disagree with this choice. Buffy is NOT ready to take responsibility for the decisions concerning her education.”

“Angel, I appreciate your concern, but I trust my daughter. If she says she needs a break, then she does.” Even though she seemed firm in her decision, a flicker of doubt entered her gaze.

Recklessly pouncing on it, he posed, “Should you trust her?”

“Excuse me?” Joyce asked sharply in offense.

Refusing to back down, he ignored the potential problems he was creating by taking on Buffy through her too-trusting mother. “Should you trust your 17-year-old daughter with a decision that will affect the rest of her life?” He softened his voice and added, “We’re both much older and can see further down the road than she can. Buffy may think she can handle her future without our guidance, but I don’t think she can. As her mother, I know you can’t want to take that chance. As her tutor, I refuse to take it.”

Buffy, who had remained silent throughout their debate, finally spoke. “I already said what I want. If you choose to let him come here anyway, Mom, then that’s your choice. But don’t expect me to be here and if I’m here don’t expect me to take up what little free time I have studying with you, Angel. My mind is made up.”

Joyce’s stare roved between Angelus and her daughter. “Is there something I need to know?”

Fear did not cloud his rebellious mistress' hazel eyes and in that moment he knew his carefully constructed web of manipulation was going to be nothing more than broken strands of eliminated power.

‘She’s going to tell.’

“Mom, Angel and I have been---”

“STOP!” he shouted. Turning to Joyce, he hissed, “Buffy has just apologized and wants to talk to me alone.”

“No, she doesn’t,”

“Shut-UP, Buff!” Focusing his dangerous stare on Joyce’s semi-conscious expression, he forced his voice into a soothing cadence. “Buffy has just admitted that she’s scared of success and that’s why she blew off my tutoring. You’ve just comforted her and now you’re going to leave because she wants to talk to me alone.”

Apparently this action was able to do what all his wooing had not before.

“Get out of her mind!” she screeched in rage.

“I’ve had enough of this, Buffy---” His equally loud tirade was cut short as she yanked him by the collar, dragged him into the foyer, and pinned him against the front door.

Although Angelus could feel her struggle to keep anger from possessing her, he smiled in feral joy. She was TOUCHING him. After all the days that had passed, Buffy’s skin was finally against his.

“I’ve missed you, lover,” he purred as he bent down to kiss her clenched fist. Eagerly he waited for the sound of her increased heartbeat. “Have you missed me too?”

“I want you to listen to me,” Buffy whispered, the underlying tone of rage barely contained. “I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t care,” Angelus stated imperiously. “Your place is by my side.” ‘I can’t slip this time. I can’t let out my weakness.’

She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them, there was an emotionless veil covering all. “I want you to listen to me,” she repeated in an even tone. “You’re going to leave and you’re not coming back. Ever.”

‘I’ve never seen this determination in her. She’s not the malleable little girl she was three months ago.’ Mentally shaking his head, Angelus refused to believe the proof in front of him. “Let’s go out for dinner, Buff. Then maybe afterwards…” He let the end of his words trail seductively.

“You’re NOT listening to me,” she yelled before abruptly silencing her voice. Inhaling deeply, she let out one breath and began again. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” he softly taunted.

“You think you can just come in here as if nothing happened and I’m supposed to be okay with that.”

“So?” The feel of Buffy’s body pressed against his made Angelus delirious with lust.

“Get out,” she commanded in a lethal whisper.

“No.” ‘I know you can feel me. I know you still need me.’

Suddenly the world came rushing by as the door disappeared and he went flying through the air. Instinctively adjusting his body so that he landed on his feet, Angelus stared up at Buffy through a curtain of disheveled hair.

“If you try to come back in here, I’ll kill you.”

Her stance was implacable, her tone resolute.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered, the cockiness of his tone destroyed with just one sentence.

Without a further word, Buffy turned around, walked back into her house, and closed the door with a quiet “click.”

The silence of the night mercilessly ground down upon Angelus, mocking him with the knowledge that he was all alone.

“YOU DON’T MEAN THAT!”

“Come with me, Buffy.” Pushing deep within her hot depths, Angelus leaned forward and pressed a kiss against her temple. “Don’t stay here for them. Leave for me.”

“What if---”

“Ssh. It doesn’t matter.” Snaking his arm beneath her hips, he could hear Buffy’s breath hitch as her mound rubbed against his. “It doesn’t matter,” he repeated.

“SHE’S GOING TO DESTROY YOU!” the inner voice hissed, each word becoming a noxious drop of poison in his head.

“Come with me, lover. Come for me,” Angelus achingly whispered into her ear as he once more denied his darker nature.

“Ok.”

Winding her arms around his back, Buffy pressed her face against his neck and moaned softly. She arched her hips against his and immediately felt the tell-tale tremors coursing through her womb.

Buffy’s eyes fluttered shut as she sighed, “I love you, Angelus.”

His delighted moan echoed in her ear before he whispered, “Say it again.”

“I love you.” She licked the side of his neck while she dug her nails into his cool flesh. “I do.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“More,” he sweetly demanded while sucking her lower lip into his mouth.

“I love you. I love you so much. So very much.”

Abruptly stopping the hypnotic movements of his hips, Angelus cupped her flushed face and asked, “Will you ever leave me again, Buffy?”

Staring up at him through a haze of sudden tears, she pledged her devotion without hesitation. “I can’t live without you, Angelus,” Buffy admitted while rubbing her soft cheek against his hand. “I don’t want to live without you.”

A torrent of suspicion and cold desperation plagued his black gaze before vanishing. “Swear it to me!”

No matter how small a moment it was, he showed it to me. He showed me his vulnerability. Warmed in a way she hadn’t been in so long, Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered, “I swear, Angelus.”

He smiled once in deep satisfaction. Yet his fears hadn’t diminished and so needed further assurance.

“You’ll never let anyone come between us?”

“Never.” Running her fingers across his pale brow, she gave voice to her own fears. “Do you believe me?” Several moments passed while she suffered the expectant pain of rejection. Please.

Angelus lowered his head until it rested against her shoulder. Lying there motionless for many seconds he finally answered with one word.

“Yes.”

Buffy let out a strangled sob of happiness as tears of joy seeped from her tightly closed lids.

“Don’t cry,” he softly murmured with much of his old arrogance. “I didn’t say no.”

Laughing through her tears, she leaned forward and kissed him. “You’ve made me so happy.”

An enigmatic expression slid across his handsome face. “They’ll be here soon. We have to go.”

She rubbed her wet cheek against his and whispered, “Soon.”

Hungrily clinging to one another, Angelus and Buffy chose to shut themselves from the rest of the world. The only thing that mattered was falling into one another, to become so deeply a part of the other that there was no beginning and no end.

“Harder!” she whimpered. Buffy needed to feel the strength of his thrusts shaking her small body to send her to orgasm. I’m so close! Just a little bit more…

In response, Angelus obeyed while digging his fingers into her hips. She’s almost there. His fierce actions immediately inspired her to keen with overwhelming excitement.

“Yes…yes…yesss!”

The dark vampire clenched his jaw in satisfaction as his mistress reached the pinnacle of passion. Shedding his prior control, he began slamming into her repeatedly. Ensuring Buffy’s release allowed him to focus on achieving the addictive release swirling inside his loins.

She in turn clutched his back and whispered sweet words on encouragement. “Come for me. I want to feel your come, Angelus.” Raising her legs higher, she groaned, “Please, Master.”

Those two words were all he needed to send him over the edge.

“BUFFY!” He smashed his head against the couch cushion as the emotions threatened to send him out of consciousness. I’ll never tire of her. I know I won’t.

Ignorant of his thoughts, she joyfully cried out as his claws drew blood. It feels so good. It feels so good because I know it’s for me. This side of Angelus is for me. Releasing her crushing hold, she felt her arms drop listlessly to her sides as the air rushed into her heaving lungs. Buffy stared up at the ceiling in contentment, knowing she was one step closer to Angelus loving her.

He believes me.

Grinding his hips against hers, greedy lest the slightest sensation be lost, Angelus found heaven. Physically and emotionally.

“You’re happy,” he stated while raising up on his arms.

“How do you know?”

Leaning forward, he nuzzled the site of his mark. “Because I can FEEL it.”

Buffy nodded her head and answered, “I am.”

“Good.” He paused for a moment before repeating, “Good.”

If he were a different man, she would’ve sworn he was nervous. However, the thought vanished the moment she looked into his eyes.

“I would have you happy with me, lover. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she replied, even though she didn’t quite.

He seemed to study her for several moments before coming to a silent decision. “Buffy, I want you to leave---”

“Whoa! You’re right!” She abruptly sat up, instantly pushing him out of her body. “They’re going to be here! We gotta go!”

A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth briefly. “No, you’re right. Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No. You were going to say something else, weren’t you? And I totally interrupted you, didn’t I? I’m so sorry! What were you going to say? Tell me, please?”

“Baby, we have to get out of here now. It’s going to be enough of a stretch as it is with that mutant’s nose.”

This threw Buffy’s attention completely off track. “Mutant?” Who’s he talking about?

“Yeah, mutant.”

She frowned in confusion briefly before realization dawned on her. “You mean Oz?”

“Mmm,” Angelus answered with a sound of assent as he re-buttoned his pants.

“Why are you calling him a mutant?”

He flashed her a devastating grin and answered, “Because he’s not a real werewolf, Baby.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “Is too!”

“No, he’s not. Real werewolves don’t look like him.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re a hell of a lot better looking and a hell of a lot stronger. Plus, they don’t go on the rampage and kill everything in their path. They’re too cunning and power hungry for that.”

“Cunning?”

“Your quasi-wolf has no memory of what he does when he changes, right?” Waiting for Buffy’s nod, he continued. “A true werewolf doesn’t lose his reasoning along with the change. He’s quite in control as a wolf and a human.”

She looked off in the distance, still shocked by this revelation. Following her shock came curiosity. “I don’t get it. How’d he become a mutant? Is it some kind of fluke?”

“No. It was very deliberate.”

“How?”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Angelus, you can’t just bring this up and not tell me all you know.” Her brow furrowed deep in thought as she slowly murmured, “Is he some kind of genetic experiment?”

“Not him, but his kind. Yes. That strain is a result of experimentation gone wrong.”

“Our government did it?”

He stood up while letting out a cynical laugh. “Nope. Something far older did that.”

“When?”

He seemed reluctant to answer, but he finally did after several seconds of silence. “Centuries ago.”

Buffy was floored. “No way! The technology wasn’t there!”

“Lover, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Genetic tampering DID NOT start with this century. Now let’s go.”

“But I’m not finished---”

“Yes you are! I don’t want to fucking talk about this anymore! Now get your ass up and let’s go!”

Buffy could hear that the topic had somehow strayed to something that was a sore spot with him. Why?

Not waiting for her to move, Angelus grabbed her by the arm and pulled her off the couch. He immediately began adjusting her clothes with an impatient hand.

She stood there docilely, her mind whirring with all that she had just learned. “Angelus?”

“Hmm?” he murmured, dropping to his knees so he could fix her stockings.

“Did…did…something…happen to you?”

He paused in the midst of his ministrations and looked up at Buffy. The tiny cinder of rage was quickly masked, but she saw it.

“Something did, didn’t it?”

Snapping her stocking in place, he smirked at the small sound of pain she let out. “Go wait in the car. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“But---”

Standing up he looked down, flicked her skirt, and ordered, “Not another word, Buff.” Even though his voice remained soft, an unmistakable note of steel had entered in his voice.

She snapped her mouth shut, but not before she stuck her tongue out at him.

“I saw that.”

Flushing guiltily, Buffy quickly asked, “But what about my shoes?”

“You don’t need any.” Angelus handed her the keys and said, “Now go.”

She obeyed her lover without another question---however, that only lasted for a few seconds. “Wait! Where are you going?”

Buttoning his shirt, he answered, “To see Joyce.”

Buffy bit her lip with indecisiveness. I don’t like him doing that, but I do want to leave with him. But it’s wrong. But I can’t just tell her, Hey Mom! I’m going to sleep at my tutor’s. Be back tomorrow!

“Why are you still here?” He settled his impassive gaze upon her. “Unless you don’t want to go?”

Violently shaking her head, she cried, “I do! It’s just…”

“Just what?” he asked while putting his black bag in order.

“I don’t like you doing that to her.”

Angelus zipped it shut and walked over to Buffy. Touching her cheek lightly, he committed a rare act of kindness. “It doesn’t hurt her, lover. Knowing the truth, however, would. Why do you think I go through all this? Because I’m scared of her?” He laughed softly and remarked, “I do this for you. Hurting her hurts you, so I’m willing to perform whatever illusion I must to avoid that.”

Buffy was so overcome with emotion she couldn’t bare to look him in the eye. I can’t believe he just said that! It’s one of the nicest things he’s ever said to me. Warmth wrapped its tendrils about her heart. Could it mean he loves me? Can I take the risk of asking him?

It was such a foreign thought to have, but not unwelcome by any means. Especially considering where they had been just two days before.

UPDATE: APRIL 29, 2004

Without turning around, Buffy could feel HIM behind her. Her heartbeat increased, betraying her to the one who no longer meant anything in the useless scheme called her life. ‘No. You shouldn’t be here!’

“I can hear you, lover,” Angelus rasped, his voice sounding rusty and hoarse while an undertone of restrained madness scored each syllable. “I can hear your pretty blood calling to me.”

Closing her eyes briefly, Buffy ruthlessly commanded her body to dispense all weakness.

“It doesn’t matter you know. It doesn’t matter what you do, what you think, what you FUCKING pretend---I’m still here.”

She carefully turned around and barely reined in the shock at his appearance. His hair stood up from the scalp in random clumps, no longer the perfect coif he took such pains to achieve. The clothes he usually wore with such sensual vanity were wrinkled and torn, as if subjected to a violent attack.

Yet, the differences didn’t stop with hair and wardrobe.

Angelus looked paler than ever, his eyes two burning coals of hatred, his mouth a slit of rancor. Black smudges clung beneath his accusatory stare, while flecks of blood adorned his sunken cheeks.

While her gaze remained cool and unruffled, inside she screamed, ‘Oh, my God! What have you done?’

“What’s wrong, Buff? Can’t speak to me?” The dry chuckle that slipped out of his throat raked across her spine with sinister glee. “Or are you thinking about how you want to deliver me to Hell?”

Crouched on the roof, ready to spring into action at any moment, Buffy coldly replied, “I told you last time. I meant it.” ‘WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!’

“Well, well, well.” Running his fevered gaze across her body, Angelus purred, “Seems like my little girl has blossomed into her full potential. She can kill someone she loves.” With careful movements he pulled open his shirt and exposed his unprotected chest. “Congrats, Baby---you’re finally a killer.”

Refusing to disprove Angelus’ reckless challenge, Buffy bit out, “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?” he shot back, the soft, cajoling note of his voice gone in a hiss of rage.

‘Don’t do this to me. Don’t force me to kill you.’ A stab of misery pierced her shuttered heart at the thought of fulfilling her threat of before. Hoping to avoid the trap she had rashly set, Buffy dismissed him.

“Leave.”

“What? Giving second chances?” A scornful laugh passed his dry lips. “I thought you didn’t do that, lover.”

“Don’t call me that,” she ordered in a tight voice.

“Lover? So I’m to control every last bit of my speech then?” He dropped his head slightly, presenting her with a crimson view of sin.

The sight of blood sickened Buffy. It was a blaring reminder of exactly who she had taken into her body and heart. “What did you do?” she demanded without further pretense.

Angelus appeared confused for a moment and took no pains to hide it.

“What?” The one word was drawn out.

“There’s blood on your mouth,” she pointed in icy accusation. “Who did you kill?”

“Kill? Kill?” He closed his eyes and a tick of agitation erupted in his cheek. “Kill. Kill. Kill.” Angelus continued to repeat the one word over and over again. Insanity, bewilderment, and doubt flitted across his face as he feverishly murmured, “Kill. Kill. Kill.”

Buffy dug her nails into her palms as the urge to cry suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Oh, my God. This can’t be. Oh, Jesus. You did it, didn’t you? You killed someone. You killed a human.’

“Kill. Kill. Kill.”

Crouched in front of the vampire who she loved so fiercely, Buffy felt as if her whole world was unraveling. ‘I can’t let this pass. I won’t let this pass.’

“Kill. Kill. Kill.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, easily slicing through the delicate tissues with blunted teeth. The coppery taste of blood flowed down her throat and made her stomach roil in nausea.

“Kill. Kill. Kill.”

Buffy couldn’t take the disturbing cadence of his words any longer. In a motion too quick to detect with human eyes, her hand shot out and slapped Angelus across the mouth.

“Stop it!”

He instantly drew back in shock. Gingerly touching his lips, he plaintively asked, “Why did you do that?”

Too consumed with her own volatile emotions to notice the child-like question, she growled, “What did you DO?”

“Nothing that you care about,” was his sullen reply.

“Like hell! Did you kill someone?” Waiting for the answer that would destroy her, Buffy thought, ‘Please don’t be this much of monster. Please.’

“Yes.” His hand still hovered about his mouth, although the pain could only be a phantom one by now.

She collapsed against the window ledge as all strength left her body. Too numb for tears, she bled her grief silently. “What’s wrong with you, Angelus?” she whispered. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dropping his hand onto the roof in a heavy gesture, a look of betrayal transformed his still-handsome features. “YOU are what’s wrong with me. YOU!” Not giving her a chance to respond, the vampire bit out, “You’ve done something to me. I know you have!”

“No…”

“Yes! Tonight I’ve killed because of you. I’ve MURDERED because of you!” His voice dropped into a hoarse declaration. “You’re nothing but a worthless human. Easily replaceable.”

Closing her eyes, Buffy dropped her head into her knees. ‘Oh, Jesus. I should’ve known. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! Why didn’t I think? Why didn’t I think about him taking out his anger on innocents? He’s the Scourge for fuck’s sake!’

“But I won’t give you up. Stupid and worthless as you are, you belong to me and I WON’T give you up!”

She felt the nausea roil in her gut as bitter tears threatened to escape from their tightly closed prison. ‘I can’t forgive this. I can’t blindly turn my head to him murdering people. They didn’t deserve to die. There’s only one thing left for me to do.’

Angelus leaned closer and muttered, “Do you understand what I’ve done? Do you?”

Buffy took a deep breath and looked up at him. “No, my question is do you understand? Do you know what you’ve just forced me to do?”

A brittle laugh hissed past his tightly closed lips. “I know about force. I know about your power, lover. I can’t feed, I can’t rest, I can’t THINK and it’s all your fault.”

A crack in Buffy’s armor formed while a sense of injustice bubbled within. “MY fault?” She slammed her hand against the roof in anger. “How was anything that happened between us MY fault?” ‘Damn you! You’re the one who killed! You’re the one who wished me dead! You’re the one who broke my heart with those words!’

“Because it is!” A tortured look captured his features, making Buffy wince with an undefined emotion. “Didn’t I give you everything you wanted? Didn’t I buy you whatever you liked? Whenever the burden of slaying became too much, didn’t I take you away from this world? Didn’t I?”

Reluctantly she nodded. ‘And I would’ve followed you to the end of the world. Not because of what you could buy me, but because I wanted to be with you. Right or wrong, I only wanted you. But now it’s different.’

“Then why this? Why are you turning away from me?” Darkness overtook his expression as he whispered, “Do you not love me anymore?”

Buffy glanced away from his face. “Don’t be like this,” she answered in a low voice. ‘I don’t think I’m strong enough to lie. I’m barely strong enough for this.’

“Why not? Is it because I’m right?” His aura dangerously shifted along with his face. “Do you have someone else you fucking bitch?”

Her head whipped back. “I’m not a bitch, you asshole!” Driven by needs she refused to contemplate, Buffy honestly answered in a gruff voice, “And no I don’t have anyone else. Jerk.”

“Then why won’t you come to me?” he growled.

Unable to maintain eye contact with his fierce countenance, she fixed her stare onto a near-by tree. “Because there are certain things that can’t be undone.” ‘And certain things that can’t be forgiven.’

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re not that dense!” she cried, her eyes narrowed in hurt rage. “What you said to me…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered his casual malice of before and his casual ignorance of now. “Those were the cruelest words you could’ve ever spoken to me. The cruelest.”

“Why?”

“You killed, Angelus. You killed.”

The sound of small pebbles being crushed echoed in the night air as he shifted his feet. “I didn’t kill,” he murmured. “I murdered, Buff. I murdered.”

This time tears rolled down her cheeks as the hopelessness of the situation became real. “Why, Angelus?” Her voice rose in frustrated helplessness. “If you know it’s wrong, WHY?”

“Because I had to.” Dropping his head, he traced absent patterns on the dark shingles with one finger. “I had to.”

“Because of me?”

“Yes.”

Several minutes of silence elapsed. Buffy bit her lips to still her sobbing, but the grief lay heavy to the taste.

Angelus looked up, noticing her tears. “Don’t cry, Baby,” he smiled, flashing a dangerous mouth full of fangs. “No one knows yet. I covered my tracks and no one knows.”

‘I KNOW!’ she screamed silently. ‘I know and it kills me! Don’t you understand?’

The smile disappeared and his face fell. “But they will,” he solemnly declared. “They will.”

“I can’t let this pass. You know that, right?”

Angelus appeared to mull over her brittle question. However, his response indicated otherwise. “This is your fault," he boldly declared. "If you were dead, I wouldn’t be suffering this.”

A gush of pained air escaped Buffy’s lungs. Closing her eyes, she mumbled, “That’s why you said what you did, isn’t it? You hate me so much, don’t you?”

“Ah, fuck. That again? It’s not like you actually had a prophecy, Buff. Get over it.” Angelus delivered his command with a familiar arrogance that made her grit her teeth.

‘I should just tell him. If anything, just to wipe that smug look off his face.’ However, Buffy knew she wouldn’t. Maybe it was her pride or maybe just stupidity, but she knew it was her heart who begged for silence. ‘I know I wouldn’t be able to bear it. If I tell him and he laughs or says more of the same, I’ll explode. My heart will just explode and I’ll die.’

“And even if you did, you would’ve told me just to try to make me feel bad. As if that was possible.”

Buffy took in one deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah.”

“So what difference does my words make, right?”

“Right.”

“Besides, you’re tougher than that.”

“Sure.”

“Are we done now?” Angelus face returned to human and a pleased smile lifted the corner of his mouth in a familiar smirk.

“Yes,” she whispered. ‘He’ll never change. He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t understand the human heart. He only knows how to break it. Now, I only have one choice left.’

“Good.” He leaned close to nuzzle her mouth. “Let me in, darling,” he sighed in longing. “I’ve missed your taste.”

Buffy’s hand whipped up and held him by the neck. Ignoring the rage and confusion contorting his features, she coldly stated, “We ARE done. I thought I made it clear when I left, ignored you, returned your phone, and fired you as my tutor.” When Angelus began pulling back, her hand tightened. “But apparently you’re slow. There is no us. I’m not your lover anymore.”

For the first time since their twisted interaction had begun, she could feel all the emotions that made her human disappear. It fled to the place inside where all her ugliness lay to be locked away.

Standing up, Buffy looked down at Angelus from her petite height and commanded, “Run.”

A look of wariness flashed once in his dark eyes. “I don’t understand.”

Pulling out a stake, she held up in the air. Inside, a part of her escaped from her soulless box and screamed in agony. ‘No! You can’t do this!’

“Are you going to stake me?” Angelus’ face was remote, his eyes hooded and distant.

Her fist tightened about her weapon.

A scornful laugh filled with mockery hung in the dangerous silence. “You’re giving into your own darkness, the darkness that’s been there all along. Go ahead, Buff. Put me out of my fucking misery.”

All the rage returned to slam Buffy inside and out. ‘It’s not fair! It’s not fair that I have to do this again, God! You already took Angel away from me! Why do I have to lose him too?’

“Oh, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he sighed with an unmistakable tone of sadness. “You are more like me than ever.”

‘No, I’m not.’ She narrowed her eyes and gritted out, “I should stake you right here, but…”

“But what?” His voice was filled with old defiance, the edge of misery and madness gone.

Lowering her arm, she softly stated, “I’m not going to. I’m giving you the chance you didn’t give your victim. Get out of Sunnydale.”

Angelus stood up carefully, keeping his gaze fixed on her face. “Never. I’m not leaving. At least not without you.”

Her guise of control evaporated as her lower lip began to tremble. “Then you’re giving me no choice!”

“You always have a choice, Buff. You always did.” A smile of predatory intent curled his mouth. “And so do I. But if you’re itching for a fight, then by all means. Let’s go.”

Without another word, Angelus leaped onto the lawn and took off running.

Buffy’s shoulders slumped in despair. ‘You said I have a choice. What choice now?’ She stared into the quiet darkness and felt the unwelcome burden of duty settle itself on her spirit. Following his lead, she landed on the damp grass and pursued her prey.

In spite of the minutes that passed between both predators, Buffy was able to find Angelus rather quickly. ‘He left me a trail.’

What she didn’t notice was the still forms of her friends standing just a few yards away.

What she never even suspected was that they saw Angelus come into the cemetery.

And it was this lapse that threw destiny into another lock with human tenacity.

“You’re still here,” Angelus murmured, pointing out the obvious.

Buffy’s eyes were large with confusion and guilt. Even if it means he might grow to love me, I don’t like this. I don’t like the lies. I don’t like it at all. I don’t like hurting my mom. But what’s worse? Lying to her or letting her find out that I’m with Angelus?

“The longer you wait, the harder it will be.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But…” Buffy’s voice trailed off, her meekness angering her before it subsided. This is how it is for us. I understand that now better than ever.

Sensing his mistress’ internal struggle, Angelus approached her tiny form and brushed his lips across her temple in an uncharacteristically sweet gesture. “Just accept it, lover. In order for us to have our life together, there are unsavory things that must be done.”

Buffy reached out and clutched him tightly to her, suddenly afraid.

“Remember this: I won’t hurt her. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Angelus,” she replied quietly while burying her face against his chest.

“Can you trust me on this?” he asked softly, almost kindly, while stroking her back.

And it was that whisper of near benevolence that swayed Buffy to his will. She slowly nodded her head, irrationally not wanting to let him go. Love. I do this for love. He’ll love me one day, I know he will. And it makes me happy. Mom wants me to be happy, I know she does.

Angelus carefully pulled Buffy away, unaware of her thoughts. “Go to the car, Buff. I’ll be out in a few seconds.” His last words held more than just the one meaning. With a gentle push, Angelus brusquely commanded, “Go.”

Silently walking to the door, Buffy’s heart hurt with the knowledge that she was willing to do anything to be with him. Anything. Even go so far as to allow her lover to implant memories that weren’t real into the woman who gave her the ability to live this lie.

Once again, she silently repeated the mantra, which served to justify her existence. I’m sorry, but I need him. I NEED him. Buffy was unsure just who she was justifying herself to, however, the ensuing silence in her mind held the singular reply of condemnation. Frowning slightly, she turned the knob and continued her line of defensive thinking. If Mom finds out what I’m doing with my ‘tutor’, it’ll hurt her more. So it’s better this way. Even if she would want me happy, she won’t understand this.

Closing the door to the sin being committed inside, Buffy whispered, “It’s better this way.”

Yet, her words held no comfort and rang false in the company of introspection.

Until she remembered Angelus gentleness.

Eager to obey her lover, she walked at a brisk pace to the black SUV. Disengaging the alarm, she quickly slid into the cool interior and waited for him. True to his word, Angelus left the house within a minute. Opening up the door, he reached for the offered keys and was soon backing out of the driveway.

And apparently not a minute too soon.

Driving in the opposite direction, they both could see Oz’s van pull up.

“Close call huh, lover?” Angelus murmured while resting his hand lightly on Buffy’s leg.

She nodded her head while keeping her gaze trained on the large vehicle until it disappeared from sight. Only then did she ask the obvious.

“What will my mom say?”

“Only that you weren’t feeling so well and decided to lay down. And also that it’s too late to have visitors.”

“They’ll know it’s a lie.”

“They will, but it won’t matter. Wolf and Red will still have to do what they’re told.”

Buffy’s reply was a small sound that could either be assent or not. I’ll have to come up with another lie tomorrow. And probably another one after that. And after that.

Following all traffic laws, Angelus came to a complete stop at the stop sign before putting the SUV in park and turning to look at her. Staring at her troubled profile for several seconds, he quietly ordered, “Look at me.”

Buffy immediately obeyed her vampire. Seeing the coldness in his gaze recede slightly, she felt hers fill with damnable tears. Without warning, she flung herself against his solid strength and started crying noisily.

“I-I’m sorry…I h-hate being s-so weak! It’s j-just that I’m t-tired of a-all the lies. I’m tired o-of always b-being so…so…so…argh!” Giving out a loud shriek of frustration, Buffy gripped his shirt and pressed her face against his neck. “I c-can hardly t-tell w-who I am! One m-minute I’m h-happy, the next I-I’m so filled with g-guilt I can b-barely hold my s-self-hatred in. I d-don’t understand w-why I-I feel l-like this!”

Pulling away from him, Buffy brought her clenched fists up to her eyes and wailed, “I hate m-myself! I h-hate who I am! Sometimes I-I w-w-wish I’d n-never became the S-Slayer! Sometimes I w-wish I’d never been born!”

Up until her last statement, Angelus had been as comforting as he was capable of being. However, his goodwill apparently had run its course. With an unfaltering hand, he pulled her arm down before delivering a hard slap.

“O-O-OWWW!”

His black gaze remained impenetrable beneath her accusatory glare. Keeping his sight steady with hers, he waited until it faded into wretched grief. Before her face crumpled with more emotional pain, Angelus spoke.

“Wishing for the impossible is a waste of time, lover. You WERE born, you ARE the Slayer, and you HAVE to lie. If it wasn’t about our fucking, it’d be about something else. Either way, you’re always going to have to lie about something.”

“No---”

“YES!” Angelus broke in hotly. “Just as you work for the side of the light, you have to obey the laws of the dark. Lying is just one aspect. Just keeping your silence about who you are feeds the beast, Buff. Not allowing the truth about ghoulies to become public knowledge is another meal. You will always have to lie, always.”

Seeing her breathing settle into a manageable state, Angelus’ voice lost some of its vicious coldness.

“You’re not going to survive if you can’t accept that, Buffy. You have to accept the choices you make and keep going.”

“But---”

“No buts!” he barked. Immediately his tone softened once more. “What’s driving you mad is the constant self-doubt. Am I right?” Angelus waited until she nodded her head. Reaching out with one hand, he smoothed her hair back. “You couldn’t have acted any other way than you did, lover. I wouldn’t have let you. I wanted you more than anything on this planet and I WAS NOT going to be denied.”

“They’ll never understand,” Buffy whispered sadly.

“So what?” Angelus replied bluntly. “No one’s asking them to. Besides, those brats don’t need to know. Ever.”

A ghost of a smile passed across her lips. “Eventually it’ll come crashing down. You know that, don’t you?”

“Says who? You?” A derisive snort echoed in the small confines of the vehicle. “Sweetie, I’ve been alive much longer than you and I’ve behind intrigues much more complex than this one. Those fools only see what they want to. They’ll never know what we’ve been doing, so let it drop.”

Buffy wiped her nose and cheeks before releasing a shuddering breath. Glancing at the side mirror, she noticed a car waiting behind them. “Angelus, there’s someone waiting for us to go.”

“So what? Let them wait.”

She let out a watery chuckle of exasperation. “You’re not king of the road, Angelus. Let’s go.”

He shook his head briefly.

“Not until you’re better.”

Buffy sniffed loudly, feeling acutely embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she parted sweetly.

“You can’t live your life by trying to make everyone else happy---except me, Baby.”

Without another word, she leaned over and brought his head down to hers. Feeling his lips part beneath hers, Buffy moaned softly with pleasure. After a few seconds she released his mouth and rested her temple against his chin. “Since when are you so nice to me?” she asked with spunk.

“Who says I’m nice?” he replied sourly. “Because I’m not.”

Giving Angelus a quick peck on the cheek, Buffy settled herself back in her seat. “I know.” But you are, sometimes.

“Don’t get all soft on me now, Slayer,” the vampire warned with dark amusement as he put the vehicle in drive. “You know how I like you eager and willing to fucked. That’s all. Consider this a one-time deal. Next time you feel all weepy and need of counseling, call a hot-line.”

Buffy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Maybe she was believing what she wanted to believe. Maybe she was just being a fool. Maybe. But somehow Angelus ended up giving her the comfort she needed. It was so odd considering it was such a major role reversal from the other night.

Striding past the well-oiled gates, Buffy found him waiting near a statue of a weeping angel.

“Rather fitting, ain’t it?” Angelus murmured, gesturing to the concrete monument of mourning.

Stopping several yards away, she could feel her body tense up. A tug of otherworldly resistance flared inside, reminding Buffy of just how long it had been since they had squared off like this.

‘How did I end up like this?’

A sense of unreality clouded her stark vision, as if she were not about to attempt to kill the man she loved above all others.

“You need to blow off some steam, Baby. Is that it?”

‘No. I’m here to kill you.’ Buffy’s eyes betrayed her, mourning the agony her duty would not allow her to speak. There was no way for her to back out of the trap Honor had laid. ‘But why now?’ her soul demanded. ‘Why not before when he wasn’t even in your heart? Who knows what he did, but you let him walk. You couldn’t kill him. So why can you do it now? WHY?!’

Her silence, for once, seemed to unnerve him. “You not talking to me anymore?” A smirk of disgust darkened his features.

She ignored his gruff question, finding there was going to be no way for her to speak without screaming out her bitter grief. ‘It’s not fair! It’s not fair! Why couldn’t he lie?’ Immediately, Buffy burned with guilt. How could she even think like that?

‘You knew it was going to end in death,’ she reminded herself grimly. ‘Only this time, it’s not yours.’

Still her logic failed to soothe the unbearable emptiness poised to consume her. Waiting for their match to begin, Buffy wondered with sick fascination if the bond would keep her from fighting him. As cowardly as it was, she knew a large part of her hoped so.

Angelus’ eyes winced imperceptibly. “Such pain I’m feeling and it’s all yours. Why do you cry on the inside, little girl?”

Buffy forced her gaze to remain locked with his.

“Because I’m not a monster.”

He sagely nodded his head and returned, “Not like me, right?” Without waiting for an answer he swiftly asked, “Do you love me?”

Angelus’ whisper reached her ears, softly demanding an answer which no longer had meaning. Buffy kept his tormented gaze and spoke the first word that came to mind.

“No.”

The vampire froze with black shock and putrid disbelief. “What do you mean ‘no’?” he croaked while seemingly drawing further into himself.

“I don’t feel anything for you,” she coldly stated, wishing there was even the smallest possibility of it being true. ‘I love you so much I’m dying from it.’

“You’re lying!” Angelus spat.

Buffy could hear a growl steadily grow in tandem to her purposeful silence. ‘Lie to him and make it easier.’ However, her heart twisted until she could barely breathe.

“You’re saying that to harm me, aren’t you?” A manic chuckle split the night air, sending the fine hairs on her neck to attention. “Don’t you understand, Buff?” he asked in a mocking voice full with loathing. “You can’t hurt me. You can madden me to the point of insanity, but you CAN’T hurt me.”

Angelus pushed away from his place of toxic leisure and strolled over to his rigid mistress.

“Do you love me?” he asked with exquisite sweetness.

“No.”

“Wrong answer.” The unbalanced rage was fading, only to be replaced by something far more deadly. “Do you love me?”

“No.”

“Maybe if you tell me the truth I won’t draw blood.”

Buffy’s hands betrayed her as they crept down to the ever-present stakes hidden within her clothing.

Seeing her actions, he dismissed them with an evil smirk. “Or better yet---if I kill you, maybe we’ll both feel better. Would you like that, sweetheart? Would you like me to make it better?”

“For who?” she taunted boldly. And then she sunk the knife even further. “But maybe you’re right. Because I’m ready to move on and you’re taking up WAY too much of my time.”

“Bitch!” Without another word, Angelus rushed forward to knock her down and ended up eating dirt.

Buffy automatically kept her balance centered on the balls of her feet, ready to deftly avoid contact with the enraged vampire lusting for her blood. Sidestepping his clumsily executed attack, she distantly wondered why his moves lacked the grace he inherently moved with.

Her lapse in concentration cost her.

Angelus’ fist connected with her mouth, immediately drawing a trickle of blood before his hand wrapped itself around her throat. “I hate you, do you hear me, Bitch?” he hissed while lifting Buffy off the ground. “I hate the mess you’ve made of me! I’m going to lose everything because of you! Do you hear me? Do you even fucking understand?”

In response, she twisted her neck, brought her arm up, and drove her elbow into the crook of his arm, immediately releasing his hold. Landing on her feet gracefully, Buffy’s leg shot out towards his knee, only to have Angelus capture her calf and twist it unmercifully. Biting back her shriek of pain, she heard him growl, “I know your tricks, Whore. You’re not dislocating my knee again.”

With a disdainful grunt, he threw her to the ground and began pacing about her downed figure. “I hate you. I fucking hate you so much.” Raking his hand through his hair, he began listing all of Buffy’s faults. “You’re such a mouse. You’re always looking at me with those judgmental eyes of yours and you know what? It makes me fucking sick.”

In full fury, Angelus watched as Buffy quickly gained her feet. “If you’re not scurrying around, you’re always whining and moaning about how life is so hard for you. ‘Oh, poor me! I don’t get to have a normal life. I’m so burdened.’”

Buffy kept her face expressionless, but his angry words hurt her. ‘I can’t help the way I feel! I didn’t ask for this calling. I’m still trying to make sense of it on my own!’

“Well, you know what? Fuck that, Miss Summers. You sleep with a full belly every night, you have a place to sleep that’s warm, and you have companions. You barely wear the same clothes twice and whenever you want something, there’s always someone there to buy it for you. How the hell are you burdened? You’re not. You’re a spoiled, privileged bitch!”

Finally Buffy spoke.

“You done yet?” she managed to murmur in her most lofty tone, despite the fact her feelings were bleeding with raw pride.

“Hardly.” Circling her, he hissed, “Even knowing that, I’m still willing to take you on. Even though you’re an annoying bit of fluff, I’m still willing to have you.” The rancor on his face disappeared. “Do you love me?”

Ignoring the jump in her heart, Buffy steadfastly answered, “No.”

Angelus let out an inarticulate cry of rage. “You’re LYING!” Clenching his fists, he approached her with an unsteady gait. “That’s NOT true!”

Leaping away from his lumbering swings, Buffy ducked behind the angel statue before it disintegrated.

“Come back here, Buff! NOW!”

She wisely ignored him, refusing to admit how frightened she was by Angelus’ lack of control. However, instead of going on the offense, she was firmly on defense. Soon his inept movements evolved with near-deadly precision.

“Beg me!” Angelus irrationally demanded while missing her head by a few millimeters. “Beg me and I’ll forgive your lies.”

Dodging the roundhouse kick which would’ve shattered her jaw, Buffy shouted, “You should be begging me!” Warily circling him, she clarified, “Better yet, you should be begging the poor soul you killed tonight!”

The vampire’s response was a manic chuckle. “You’re funny, lover.” Immediately his head snapped back as she landed a fierce punch on his nose. The sound of bone crunching was unmistakable in the tense silence of the night.

“That’s what’s wrong with you, lover,” she hissed as she brought her knee up to his unprotected stomach. “You’re nothing but a murdering animal.” Buffy instantly drove her forearm against the back of his neck and forced Angelus down.

“So? I’d do it again,” he declared as his leg shot out and nearly swept Buffy off her feet. “I’d do it a thousand times.” Finding his stance, he smiled cruelly. He kept his black gaze fixated on hers as he reached up and rubbed a claw against the stain marring his pale skin. “A thousand times, Darling. A thousand.”

Fighting the strange exhaustion running through her body, Buffy dragged in several gulps of air. Her eyes stayed with his and she despised the lack of remorse on his sinful face. Moreover, she despised the weakness inside begging for another chance. ‘I feel so trapped. I thought I was going to be strong enough to do this, but I’m not. I can’t kill him. I can’t.’

“Why do you play these games? Is it to make me suffer?” Angelus’ voice was strangely soft, with hints of mourning layered subtly within. Even though his fists were swiping through the air, their goal intent on damage.

Buffy found it harder and harder to avoid his blows, yet she still couldn’t make the move to steadily fight back. ‘It’s because I don’t know what to do! I don’t know!’

“If I have to suffer, so do you!” With that statement, Angelus caught hold of Buffy’s shirt and drove her back against the unforgiving cement surface of a crypt.

She bit her lip to hold back her cry of pain, only to find his face mere inches away from hers. “F-Forgive me,” Angelus shakily ordered in a near-whisper, the words seeming to struggle just to escape his throat. “Whatever you need to do, tell me. Just…just…forgive…me.”

“I can’t,” Buffy replied tightly although it was what she wanted to do desperately.

Pulling her forward, he slammed her against the wall again. “Yes, you can!” he roared.

“Don’t you think I want to?” she painfully cried, even though the pain was in her heart and not on the scraped skin on her back. “But it’s not that simple anymore!”

Angelus rested his head against hers and wearily admitted, “I’m breaking down and I don’t know how to stop.”

Buffy’s hazel eyes darkened with agony. “It’s not about me anymore, Angelus.”

“Yes, it is,” he tiredly disagreed. “It’s always been about you. It always will.”

“You killed someone tonight, Angelus.” She looked down briefly, wanting to cry but not allowing herself the luxury of weakness. “I can’t, no, I WON’T let that pass.”

A storm of confusion swirled violently in his expression. His fists tightened, bringing Buffy up on her toes.

“It’s about them?”

“What THEM? You mean there was more than one?” Her stomach dropped as her eyes quickly closed with regret.

“I don’t get this, lover. You spurned me because of what I said then, not what I did tonight.” Angelus’ face contorted with loathing. “They deserved to die and I’m glad I drained those bastards of every last drop.”

Unable to hear his vicious indifference to her feelings any longer, Buffy drove her head against his chin, briefly loosening his hold. Digging her fists into his sides repeatedly, she didn’t stop until his hands dropped.

Grabbing hold of his arm, she reversed their position by throwing him against the pitted wall. “They didn’t deserve to die! No one deserves to die by you, Angelus! No one!”

His eyes flashed golden as he heatedly returned, “So I should’ve let them put a bullet in Joyce’s brain before they fire-bombed your house, is that it?”

Buffy’s grip immediately went numb as the revelation went through her. ‘Did I misjudge him so badly?’ “Who did you kill?”

Angelus’ answer was brutal. The flat of his hand hit her throat with enough force to crush the windpipe before knocking her to the ground. Following Buffy, he held himself above her on his arms. He smiled once before icy lines of rage settled themselves about his mouth.

Meanwhile, Buffy felt the agony of regeneration take its toll on her shattered tissue. Attempting to roll on her side, she felt him dispassionately push her down.

Weakly she tried to force sound out of her mouth, only to make pitiful gurgling noises. However, as sick as it was, Buffy’s tormented mind focused not on his brutal abuse, but the hope that she had been given a reprieve. ‘Please. Please. Please.’

Not completely unaware of the turmoil roiling in her mind, Angelus furiously reproached her with a menacing growl. “If you thought I killed a damned human, you should’ve fucking come out and asked me. Instead, you just pinned that shit on me without even knowing for sure.” Angelus clenched his jaw and spit out, “That’s BULLSHIT, Buffy!”

Drawing his fist up, he drove it into the ground beside her head. “Tonight was going to be your night, lover. My vampire emissaries of Death would’ve put you in the ground, or they would’ve at least figuratively because I’m not sure if there would’ve been much of you left. And there wasn’t shit you could do about it.” Bringing his head closer, the light of mania glittered in his dark eyes. “But I wasn’t going to let that go down. So I don’t care what happens tomorrow because tonight I won.”

Buffy’s mind was a mass of disjointed thoughts stained with shock. ‘Oh, my God. Did he really save my life? How did he know? If he did this for me…Mom! Was someone really going to hurt her? How come I didn’t know?’

“Mom!” she cried with a healed throat as she sought to sit up.

Angelus firmly held her down.

“No one is going to hurt her.”

“How do you know?” she hoarsely shrieked as she struggled for freedom. “I have to make sure!”

“Not until we’re done!”

“I need to get to her!”

“No one is going to hurt her,” Angelus firmly repeated in a strained whisper. “I’ve made sure of it.”

Buffy swallowed gingerly, before rasping, “Are you lying?”

Angelus drew back, completely offended. “Are you mad, woman? I don’t have to lie to you!”

Tears filled her eyes as her brittle defenses began to erode. “Angelus,” she whispered in an aching voice. ‘I believe him. He’s telling me the truth.’

Almost as if he saw her softening, Angelus lifted her head and pressed his mouth against hers.

“You love me! I know you do!”

Buffy’s moan could’ve been interpreted as distress, but the jump in her pulse told Angelus what he needed. “You’re mine!” he abruptly shouted as his face shifted. “Mine! I’m not going to let you walk away from me, do you understand me, you stubborn whore?” Without waiting for an answer, Angelus brought his head closer when a covert movement caught his attention.

Alertly looking over his shoulder, he was prepared to defend his position when a makeshift cross was shoved in his face by a pale yet determined Xander.

“Get off of her, vamp!” the youth grimly ordered, his eyes darting back and forth between his fallen friend and the dangerous creature crouched over her.

“Go home, pup,” Angelus warned in an icy voice filled with barely leashed fury. “This is none of your business. Go find someone else to play hero with.”

Pressing the cross closer, Xander held up his stake with a hand that barely trembled.

“Shut-up! Unlike Buffy, I’ll have NO PROBLEMS doing it---so back off!”

Quickly glancing down at his mistress, the vampire set his jaw and hissed, “Not likely.”

Buffy suddenly sat up and threw Angelus off of her. Willow immediately knelt by her side, ready to provide comfort and support if needed. Buffy’s eyes held his and the plea did not go unnoticed by him. With a sneer and a smirk, Angelus dusted himself off.

“Later, Buff.”

The trio stared at his menacing figure until it disappeared into the shadows. Xander then released a shaky sigh of relief as he collapsed to his knees. “God,” was all he managed to say as the sweat began pouring down his face.

Willow hesitantly touched Buffy’s shoulder.

“Umm, are you…are you alright?”

Buffy slowly turned to come face-to-face with liquid eyes filled with concern and pity.

“We, uh, saw what Angel…I mean, Angelus, did to your, umm, throat. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

She shook her head slowly, unable to mouth even one word. ‘They were here. Did they see everything? What am I going to say? What about Angelus? ’

“That low-life blood-sucker!” Xander spat as he gained his footing. “Ding-dong, his mind is gone, you know what I mean? I can’t believe the nerve Dead-Boy has. He’s lucky Buffy didn’t shove a stake up his butt. Psycho.”

“Xander!” Willow cried in reproach.

“What? It’s the truth,” he replied unrepentantly.

“You haven’t asked how she’s doing,” the redhead pointed out with quiet censure.

“Huh?” Remembering that perhaps the Slayer wasn’t an immortal drew an embarrassed frown to Xander’s mouth. “Sorry I got riled up like that.” He squatted down and softly asked in concern, “You okay?”

She once again nodded her head as she drew her legs up. The unrelenting decision to keep Angelus out of her life crumbled away as she thought of what he had done for her.

Staring at her with growing worry, Xander squatted. “Buffster? Hey, Buffy?” glanced at the other girl. “Maybe she can’t talk, Will. I think we need to---”

“No,” Buffy said with finality. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” ‘I need to get out of here. I need to see him. What am I thinking? I’ve been able to survive all this time without him. How can I go back? I need time to think. I need to be alone.’

Willow didn’t feel confident with her decision. “But---”

“It’s fine, Will.”

“Well, we need to let Giles know about this tonight,” Xander emphatically stated.

Raising her determined gaze to his, Buffy evenly replied, “No.”

A look of astonishment flitted across his face before it disappeared beneath a glower. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ll tell him, Xander.”

“Why just you?” he asked suspiciously.

“Because it’s my business and I said so.” ‘Just go away, guys. Please.’

Hoping to avert an argument between the friends, Willow murmured, “I can’t believe he did this to you, Buffy.” Unfortunately, she picked the worst subject to switch the focus to.

“What’s there to believe, Willow?” the irritated male fumed. “Buffy said it right: he IS an animal. A dirty, disgusting, sack of…of…animal.”

“How long were you there?” Buffy asked woodenly.

“From the beginning,” the other girl answered softly.

“Shit!” she muttered in disgust. ‘I should’ve known they were there.’ Pushing herself up, Buffy trembled with the emotions fighting for control. “Why did you come in here?” she demanded harshly, unable to hold in the resentment seething from having to listen to Xander’s insults.

Both teens were taken aback from their friend’s uncharacteristic tone. “We didn’t want you to be alone with him,” Xander tightly explained.

“Did it ever occur to you that you could’ve distracted me and ended up getting yourselves killed in the process?”

“Buffy,” Willow whispered in a hurt voice.

Remorse instantly washed over Buffy in suffocating waves. Shaking her head, she numbly apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, guys. I’m just…” She abruptly broke off and released a shuddering breath. “It’s not you…” Looking up at the sky, she felt the humiliating tears cloud her vision. Buffy remained silent for several seconds before gathering control of herself. “Just go home.” ‘What should I do? Should I go to him or just let things go?’

“What? No way!” Xander roughly replied.

Seeking to soften her friend’s answer, but wanting to express her similar sentiments, Willow added, “You really shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“And why not?” the Slayer quietly asked. “If you both stay with me, am I going to feel less lonely?”

Both friends were at a loss for what to say and it was obvious to Buffy.

“Do either of you have any clue about what I’m feeling right now?” The silence was answer enough. “No, you don’t. Neither of you have ever had a stranger standing in place of the person you loved. Neither of you have ever been ordered to murder the person you love. So no matter how good your intentions are, there isn’t anything you can say to make me feel better.”

“Love?” Xander slowly asked in disbelief. “Did you just say the word ‘love’ in present tense?”

Buffy glanced down and fought the blind rage pulsating through every vein in her body. The censure in his voice echoed loudly in the confines of her mind.

“I can't believe you. Of everything I said, that’s all you can focus on?”

Raking a hand through his hair, his righteous anger seemed to break. “Help me understand, Buffy. Please help me understand how to see this. Because maybe if you help me, I’ll help you understand what I felt not only tonight, but every time I think of Angel.”

“Angelus.”

“What?”

“His name is Angelus,” Buffy stiffly clarified.

Holding his widespread arms in the air, Xander replied, “Angel. Angelus. It doesn’t make any difference to me. They’re both the same in my eyes.” Dropping his arms, he tightly clenched both his fists and cried, “I just watched one of my best friends get the snot beat out of her and you know what I felt? Hate, Buffy. I felt hate. Hate because you had to fight him and hate because I couldn’t help.” His dark brown eyes glistened with sorrow as he hoarsely asked, “Do you have any idea how that makes ME feel? You’re my friend and I’m supposed to protect you but I can’t! I can’t because you’re the Slayer.”

“The Slayer,” Buffy repeated while nodding her head.

Willow held her silence, sensing that if she spoke the rare line of true communication between Buffy and Xander would disappear.

“I don’t understand how I’m supposed to act about this. Neither Willow nor I know what to say to you anymore. We’ve dropped the topic of Angel out of hopes that maybe you’ll come to us in time, but it’s not working. So please, help us help you, Buffy. Tell us what you need, tell us what to do.”

Xander’s pleas reminded her of Angelus’. Her misery increased as guilt and confusion made a wretched mess of her heart. “Just look at us,” she murmured as a sad smile lifted her lips. “We used to share everything, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, we did,” Xander unhappily answered. “I thought it was going to last forever, the three of us.”

Willow finally spoke. “But nothing lasts forever.” Her words hung miserably between them, taking a small piece of innocence away that should’ve already been gone, but strangely wasn’t.

“Everything has gotten so…ugly. So empty,” Buffy whispered. “I can’t even remember the way it used to be.”

“I don’t think any of us can,” Willow forlornly admitted with a sigh. “We’ve all moved on with life the best way we know how, but inside we know that we’re leaving each other behind in some way. No matter how much we try, we’re doing it.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped as if the weight of it all was too much to bear. “It’s true. Ever since my birthday when Angel…I haven’t been the same person.”

“We know,” Willow acknowledged gently. “We didn’t want to see it though. We wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, that everything was the same. But tonight…tonight we can’t pretend anymore. Angel…us, Buffy, he was completely sick. Half the time we don’t know what he said to you, but we saw enough. He wanted to kill you.”

“Buffy, I’ve never been so scared as I was five minutes ago,” Xander dismally shared. “You barely fought back and he was just so determined. I wasn’t sure if you were going to win tonight and I…” He rubbed his nose in embarrassment as it became obvious that his voice wasn’t going to cooperate. “I never want to see that again. Never.”

“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand hesitantly and gave it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, Xander. I wish you hadn’t seen it. I wish…I wish for so many things.”

Jerkily nodding his head, he returned the sign of affection before dropping her hand. “We need to know something and please just tell us the truth. No matter what, just tell us the truth.”

“What?” Buffy asked in token, already knowing where their conversation was leading.

Xander swallowed once, as if the question was going to be almost impossible to ask.

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes,” was all she thought to say. What she didn’t count on was the ugly sobs that poured from her throat as a result.

Needing to avoid the condemning eyes that were sure to be following her every move, Buffy crouched down, wrapped her arms around her knees, and dropped her head.

“Oh, Buffy,” Willow whispered sadly as she followed her friend down. “It’s okay,” she murmured over and over again as she leaned Buffy into her sympathetic embrace. “It’s okay to cry. It’s okay.”

Clutching her friend in gratitude, Buffy began to sob louder when she felt Xander’s arms close around her in comfort.

“We’re here for you. We’ll always be here for you. Always,” he hoarsely swore as he laid his head against hers.

The trio sat mourning in the absence of forever, while Buffy wailed her grief for Willow, Xander, Joyce, but most of all---Angel and Angelus.

The rest of the short ride was spent in companionable silence. Angelus’ hand remained on Buffy’s thigh, occasionally squeezing or stroking it as he saw fit. Soon they pulled into the private parking area where Angelus solicitously opened the door for his mistress.

Reaching for his hand, Buffy matched her strides to keep up with his. When they crossed the spacious foyer, she smiled in greeting to the two elderly faces that nodded their heads and murmured welcome.

Discreetly looking over her shoulder she saw the concern in Mr. Lomarr’s eyes. Meeting her gaze, he quickly shifted away, almost as if he were afraid Angelus would see him. After they entered the elevator, Buffy asked, “Why do you keep entering through the lobby when we can go through the private entrance?”

A smirk lifted his beautiful mouth.

“Because it amuses me.”

“Why?”

“Because I can smell their fear.” At her gasp of censure, Angelus looked down and shrugged his shoulder unapologetically. “It’s fun.”

Buffy made a disapproving noise in response.

“Argh! Why are you so mean?”

“Why are you so nauseatingly nice?” he shot back with a grin.

Lifting her chin she answered, “Because I am.”

Angelus brought her small hand up and gently kissed her delicate fingers.

“True. You’re also very, VERY sweet.”

Buffy’s cheeks became delicately flushed as a result of his compliment. When his tongue came out and flicked across her skin, she felt her body tighten in readiness.

“Patience, lover. Patience,” he chided playfully. Keeping her hand in his, Angelus hummed a lively little tune and waited for the elevator to come to a halt. After pressing a few buttons, the doors slid open. “We’re home, honey,” he pointed out with a grin.

“Good. I’m tired,” she replied teasingly as she dropped his hand and skipped out into the foyer.

“Ha-ha,” Angelus murmured as he reached out and slapped her bottom.

Buffy looked over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue. As she walked across the smooth floor she wondered at her mercurial change of mood. Angelus really is rubbing off on me. Before I know it, I’ll be as moody as he is.

Entering the cavernous living area, Buffy quickly shed her clothes before plopping down on a leather couch.

“I wasn’t kidding, Baby. I really am tired.”

Angelus slipped off his coat and laid it across the piano. “Was I too much for you, Buff?” he drawled lazily over his shoulder as he went about his nightly routine of going into his office.

The question was filled with masculine pride and she hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. “Maybe a little,” she answered demurely while closing her eyes.

“Hmm. I’ve yet to see the night, lover.” Angelus promptly disappeared around the corner into his masculine sanctuary.

Opening up a heavy eyelid, Buffy softly asked, “Speaking of night…what do you do in there every night?” Even though hundreds of feet separated them, she knew he could hear her question and in turn she would hear his answer.

If he chose to answer her at all.

“Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

A small laugh drifted from the shadows.

“Stuff that keeps me busy.”

“Like what?”

“Stuff that would bore you.”

“It wouldn’t bore me.”

“Very well then. I’m not telling you.”

“Aww, Angelus. Can’t you tell me a little bit?”

A harassed sigh reached her sensitive ears.

“Grown-up stuff.”

“It can’t be that grown-up if you’re calling it stuff,” Buffy grumbled as she shifted on the couch.

“You have a point, Darling.”

“You really not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Fine then,” she huffed. “I didn’t even really want to know.”

“I know.”

“I just asked so to show an interest in what you do, because I love you and all.”

“Thank you.”

A small smile curved her lips as Buffy opened her eyes. They’d had a similar conversation almost every night for almost a month. Except for that one week. Buffy’s brow creased in sadness before she forcibly brushed it off. It happened. It’s done.

Their domestic squabbling definitely livened their not-so-quiet evenings together. Angelus still wouldn’t tell her what he was doing in his office, but she honestly didn’t care. It was fun just to see what new term he’d come up with while completely keeping his business private.

Hmm. Let me think. He’s said meditating, gaming, masturbating, drinking, sleeping, farting…ugh, gross! Umm, I can’t remember what else.

Closing her eyes, she felt the tiredness creep over her. A shiver crawled across her body as she felt the coldness seep into her naked skin. “Damnit, Angelus!” Buffy quietly cursed. “When are you going to raise the temperature in this place?”

“How about never?” came the caustic reply several rooms over.

She rolled her eyes and went in search of the down throw her vampire had bought for her.

“Besides, you know where a blanket is!” same vampire scolded.

“I’m getting it,” she sighed without heat. Pulling the maroon coverlet out of its place in a small cabinet, Buffy quickly wrapped herself up. The feathers captured her body heat, inspiring a happy groan. So nice! So warm!

In a much better spirit, Buffy walked back to the couch and slid back into her spot. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered what Willow was thinking of her cowardly move. Burrowing into her blanket, she guiltily dismissed those thoughts and focused on clearing her mind.

Within minutes Buffy drifted off to sleep.

An hour later, after a few clicks, the discreet camera zoomed in on her peaceful face. Angelus smiled in amusement as he watched a small trail of drool seep from the corner of her mouth. “Guess she wasn’t lying.” Scanning the documents on his desk, he felt an undignified thrill surge right through him.

Buffy kept pestering about his private activities and while she hadn’t seriously pushed, he knew she still took pleasure asking her wifely questions. If asked directly, he would probably deny it, but he enjoyed it as well.

However, if she had any real idea of what he had been doing, Buffy would probably seriously rethink his level of insanity.

“But it doesn’t matter because I was right!” he whispered to himself, unable to keep the triumphant grin from creeping across his lips. “I’m strong enough and because of that, I knew I’d find the answer! I knew it!”

Angelus closed his eyes and basked in the heady thrill awaiting him in the future. Without looking down at his hand, he fingered the small necklace over and over again.

Memories of old taunted his mind, only this time Angelus’ response was merely an evil smile. “Those fucking pricks are probably turning over in their graves right now,” he sneered spitefully. Remembering the pain and humiliation he suffered at the hands of those so-called men of God, took nothing away from Angelus’ victory.

“I hope they’re burning with rage in their own hell right now, because there’s only one thing to stop me after this. And even that, I’ll figure a way around. I know I will.”

And if there was one thing to be said about Angelus it was that he was determined.

“Not feeling so cocky now are you?” The priest shook his head in false sorrow. “I’m so disappointed to see you in this sorry state, I truly am.” He set down the cruel weapon in his fist carefully before reaching for a damp handkerchief. Fastidiously wiping his hands, the soft-spoken priest set his stern eye upon the creature dangling in chains.

“But, the Lord has bestowed me my own cross, Angelus. That he has,” he stated gravely. “It would never please Him to know we complain about our divine purpose. After all, even abominations like you have a place in His will,” he finished imperiously while flicking his fingers in Angelus’ direction.

The starved vampire merely lifted his head, albeit weakly, and narrowed his eyes, not deigning to give his tormentor the satisfaction of an answer, even though his skin was on fire.

However, his disgust was obvious.

“Ah, you’re not hurting my feelings, Scourge. Instead, you’re committing blasphemy, my son.” Hearing the rasping growl, the burly sadist tilted his head in interest. “Strange. I think there’s a spot I missed.”

Quickly approaching the unflinching vampire, the priest pried Angelus’ mouth open and shoved a cross down his throat.

Despite his enormous will, Angelus could not contain the muffled screams of his agony.

The ticking of a clock and the soft sound of Buffy’s breathing were the only noises to be heard in the aftermath of those memories. Standing up, he took a deep and unnecessary breath, unable to shake off his human habits even after centuries. If there was ever a point in his undead existence that had changed him, it was those two months. Up until he had been captured, Angelus had been a murdering vampire but not an unnecessarily cruel one.

But unrelenting pain had a way of changing even the most stalwart of beasts and so afterwards he had truly become the monster he was often accused of being.

Angelus’ pensive expression became grim as he thought, I was damaged but never broken. Not during their torture and not during Angel’s reign. I came back. I took control of the clan. I got Buffy. And now this.

His world might be falling apart, but it didn’t matter. Winning was the only thing that mattered. Not suffering, not pain, but winning.

With triumph firmly in place, Angelus left the office and quietly made his way towards his sleeping mistress. Although he had no intention of sharing his monumental success with her, he did feel the need for celebration. After all, Buffy had inspired the stamina for this obsessive discovery.

It seems going crazy has that effect on me. Maybe I should try it more often, he thought silently to himself in a bit of odd humor.

Soundlessly entering the mammoth room, Angelus’ gaze instinctually went to the young girl slumbering peacefully on his couch. A rare, genuine smile crossed his lips as he gracefully made his way towards her. For someone who kept late nights regularly, Buffy seemed to need her sleep quite a bit. Maybe it’s BECAUSE she keeps late nights,’ he acknowledged wryly.

Bending his back, Angelus slid his hands beneath her shoulders and thighs. As he lifted her small body up, Buffy’s eyes immediately flew open. Not wanting to disturb her, he commanded in a soft voice, “Sleep.” With only a second’s hesitation she obeyed. Situating himself on the couch, he tucked her next to him, before covering them both with the blanket.

As the minutes slipped away, Angelus grudgingly admitted that once again he felt a sense of calmness descend over him. Even after all these weeks, Buffy still had the power to amaze him, simply because it seemed like it was only a short while ago he fantasized about destroying her.

Supporting his head on his hand, he remembered her mini-hysteria.

“I hate m-myself! I h-hate who I am! Sometimes I-I w-w-wish I’d n-never became the S-Slayer! Sometimes I w-wish I’d never been born!”

Although he didn’t say it at the time, it was true that life would most definitely have been easier. However, Angelus still believed in what he had said. “You were meant to be mine, Slayer,” he whispered beguilingly, not caring that she couldn’t hear him.

Gently running a finger down her small nose, he smiled once more as Buffy wiggled it, apparently tickled because of his actions. “You are the oddest thing, little girl,” he whispered. “My hatred for you consumes me day and night. I truly hate you and yet…”

Angelus’ words trailed off into nothingness, drawing a slight frown. His mind couldn’t finish the rest and something inside shuddered with relief. Before the vampire could give reason to his actions, he leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers in a feather-soft caress.

This feels right. No matter how many other lips I might kiss, these are the only ones that feel right.

Pulling back reluctantly, he stared at Buffy’s sleeping face in consternation. We fit together like a hand and glove…perfectly. Yet he fought it. While one gloved hand viciously kept her close, the other cruelly pushed her away.

Even now, in the height of his newest triumph, he wouldn’t let her go, but apparently Buffy was also unwilling to completely free him.

A small burst of bitter laughter flavored the air with echoes of impossible happiness. If I were a different kind of creature, I would have already made her my wife. Unable to resist touching her, Angelus stated aloud in a flat voice, “But I never will. I learned from Angel’s mistake. The best you’ll ever be is my favorite whore.”

Ignorant to her lot in his life, Buffy kept to her dreams and sighed softly.

Closing his eyes, Angelus shook off the grasping tendrils of discontent and instead focused on her rhythmic breathing.

And once more he thought back on the madness that had consumed them both such a short time ago.

Angelus stumbled into the alley with a gait of an alcoholic hopped up on a lethal amount of liquor. His whole body ached and his chest hurt with the memory of phantom death-beats. “Fuck!” he hissed as he tripped over a stray crate. Clutching his breast, Angelus blearily looked at the dirty segment of world he just hid himself in.

The similarities to Angel’s penance did not go unnoticed, even in the midst of his enigmatic agony. He took a shallow breath through habit and leaned his head against the wall. ‘What the hell is happening to me?’ Angelus’ insides roiled with miserable intensity, reminding him of a feeling this carnation of his body hadn’t felt since blood naturally ran through his veins.

“Argh,” he groaned as he collapsed onto the dank, smelly ground. If Spike’s spies were around, they were probably having quite a laugh at his expense. Whipping his head away, he nearly gagged as the putrid smell of rot reached his delicate nostrils.

Inelegantly, he scrambled against the wall and fought to find his balance. “What the bleeding HELL?” Just a few minutes ago Angelus had been strolling along, in rage and bitterness, but strolling nonetheless. Buffy’s dismissal in light of her puking friends had struck him in a way not to his liking---although he couldn’t quite explain why. So, he had decided to do what he always did when torture wasn’t an option---stalk through the darkness and look for a fight.

He had barely reached the miniscule, seedy part of town when all feeling seemed to leave his legs. Now he was hiding amidst filth and rubbish like some damned lower demon.

“I bet Buffy is having some pity party with those dumb-asses,” Angelus sneered in disgust as another wave of pain washed over him. Desperately, he closed his eyes and imagined a group huddle between the trio of idiots. In his imagination, they all sighed and moaned over how hard teenage life was, especially when living on the HellMouth.

Before he could muster another insult amidst a stab of brutal agony, a real image popped into his mind before fading away with ghostly precision.

Angelus’ eyes flew open and he instinctively sought to stand. Fixedly staring into the distance, his mind obsessively replayed the scene over and over again. Buffy sat in a messy sprawl, hands over her head as she sobbed with ugly pain. Her companions’ arms were around her, their mouths moving with imprecise speech.

It was then that he knew. The living death visiting him was alive in Buffy.

Biting his lip with an elongated fang, Angelus began slamming his head against the brick wall as a blistering stream of curses flew from his lips. The madness, which had gripped him without cease, was evaporating as Buffy’s pain grew. The vicious demon in Angelus commanded him to, at the very least, go to his building and lock himself away until his bitch’s hurt dissipated.

“IF SHE WERE DEAD THEN HER FUCKING HEART WOULDN’T BE BREAKING, WOULD IT?”

Clenching his fists until his nails pierced through the flesh, Angelus concentrated on the slight pain growing in his skull. His lack of control was burning a hole through the little sanity he was regaining. In the recesses of his logic, Angelus knew what his ultimate decision was going to be.

However, the humiliation of that choice was rapidly burning away the rest of his demon reasoning.

Angelus slammed his head one last time against the crumbling brick before forcing his legs to obey. Unsteadily gaining his feet, he stood still for several moments. Despite the leakage of time, he refused to move from that spot until his body regained some semblance of control.

“If I’m going to do this,” the vampire muttered angrily. “I’m going to do this right.” Cautiously taking one step, he noted with satisfaction how his limbs remained strong and firm. Even though the pain was making a bitter fool of his façade, it would have to be enough.

“Co-dependent bitch,” he hissed as he steadily took one step after another into the night. “Why the hell can’t you get control of your emotions, huh? Do you really think that it’s always nice to share? Well, it isn’t!”

Only a few minutes passed before he could smell the tears of his mistress. Its aroma angered something dark and primal hiding inside his human shell.

Entering the cemetery with purpose, Angelus didn’t bother to disguise his presence. The dust rose in small storms from the force of his boots as they unerringly made their way to the fragile group huddled amidst the dead. From the sudden increase in Buffy’s heartbeat, he knew she was aware of him long before the two beings next to her were.

“It’s going to be okay, Buffy.”

“We’ll get through this together, alright? Just like we’ve always done.”

“Buffy, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

They never got a chance to react before Angelus had a hold of Willow and Xander’s conscious mind. “Get out.” However, his command only seemed to inspire indecision and confusion as they mutely clung to Buffy’s back.

In a choked whisper she demanded, “Why?” Her posture never changed, only seemed to harden with an emotion akin to devastation.

Angelus refused to look at her, even though he understood Buffy was asking more than just the obvious. Ignoring her, he reached down and yanked Willow’s chin up before reaching out to do the same to Xander’s---albeit with more force.

Buffy sat there, suddenly poised to strike yet uncharacteristically seeming to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Not wasting time, Angelus stared down his aristocratic nose and growled, “She cried, you cried, you all cried until your eyeballs ran dry. You’ll see her in school tomorrow and you three can puke out how you’ll be friends until the end. So, let go of Buffy and take your worthless hides home. Now!” This time the two teens quietly stood up, looked down at their friend with a blank stare, before slowly walking out of the cemetery.

Buffy silently watched their progress, looking as if the last lifeline between her normal life and this one was vanishing without a trace. Once Willow and Xander left, she dropped her eyes and shallowly drew breath. The scent of tears grew heavy, filling Angelus’ mouth with their bittersweet taste.

“I know why. We’re all just puppets to you, the great Scourge of Europe,” she murmured with an apathetic voice. Buffy abruptly shook her head. “No, not Europe. The great Scourge of the Free World.”

Awkwardly he stood there, suddenly unsure of what to do. All thoughts of hauling his woman up and dragging her to the penthouse shriveled up and died a quick death. In an unsteady precipice between sharp clarity and fading madness, Angelus could feel each pulse of her heart as a companion to his still one.

And it scared him.

Druscilla’s crazed words of the past drifted in his ear, aptly describing how Buffy looked to him right now. “Like a broken bird falling out of its little cage,” she seemed to coo, the pity and maliciousness mixing into a toxic brew of longing.

Before Angelus could brusquely demand for Buffy to cease her tears, she spoke in a frigid, flat voice.

“No matter how I try to connect to the people I care about, I’m completely alone. No matter how many times I lie, I only make things worse. No matter what I do to keep them safe, I can’t seem to make the right decision. No matter how normal I try to pretend to be, I’m still me. Even though I don't who the real me is the majority of the time.”

Buffy tilted her head back and stared straight up into his hooded eyes.

“And no matter how much I try to hate you, I still can’t.” Her cold visage broke, finally allowing the mournful vulnerability to bleed through. “Why?”

Angelus had no answer, none that would comfort anyway. So instead of mustering a barrage of insults designed to capitalize on Buffy’s weakness, he chose to remain silent.

However, he held out one hand.

A slight wince appeared on his face before it disappeared into immortality. ‘If she accepts, we’ll both be better. We’ll be as we were. All this shit will disappear and we can…just…BE. But only if she accepts.’

Seconds passed while Angelus waited for Buffy to take his impulsive offer.

Her soft, girlish voice reached him first.

“I’ve tried to live without you and I thought I was doing a damned good job. Each night that went by was one less until I was free.” Buffy reached up and wiped her eyes, embarrassed by the rising of tears. “But the more I tasted freedom, the less I saw myself.” Fingering the silver ring on her finger, she sighed and smiled with miserable satisfaction. “The less I saw myself and the more I saw you.”

Unsure of how to take her words, Angelus stubbornly held his hand out, refusing to accept defeat. ‘You’ll come to me. You have to. Your heart is calling to me.’ However much he denied the uncertainty cautiously making its home inside his mind, the vampire couldn’t ignore its existence. And so he fixated his attention to every breath coming from Buffy’s body, to every word tumbling from her pink mouth.

“It felt good, Angelus. For the first time since you came back, I was in control of me. I showed you how I really felt. I MADE you see what you did to me. I made you feel crazy, I made you ugly, I made you pitiful. I made you something you never were before.” A mirthless smile lifted her lips. “I was strong.”

Angelus wanted to crush Buffy’s assumptions into nothingness, but he couldn’t. She was right. He had become all those things and more.

The glimmer of joy in her lovely eyes dissipated and the narrative quality of her words disappeared, only to be replaced by a frenzied telling.

“But it was all fueled by hatred, rage, and spite. Seeing you tonight, fighting with you, it should’ve just made it worse. I should’ve wanted to put this stake in you!” Holding up her hand, she waited until his eyes slid from the pointed death instrument back to her. “Thinking that you killed a human tonight, it was supposed to be what I wanted.”

The silence grew dark, the facets of truth and pride difficult to peer through. Angelus’ patience began to unravel as Buffy’s pain seized his chest once again. “So why didn’t you?” A rasping chuckle split the air. “It sure as hell wasn’t because you couldn’t physically do it.”

Not seeing even a hint of a smile cross her face, Angelus extended his hand further. When she kept her position, he ignored how foolish he looked and asked instead, “What are we doing here, Buff?”

“I thought I knew,” she answered with a heavy heart.

This time he felt something besides her pain. He felt his.

“We keep going in circles. I love you, Angelus. I hate you, Angelus. You make me sick. You make me complete. I feel guilty. I feel happy. Please don’t touch me. Please touch me more. I love you. I hate you.” Raising his voice, he yelled, “Why don’t you FEEL what I’m feeling RIGHT NOW! I’ve had to walk over three miles with your human emotions lodged in my chest.”

Pinning her with his meanest stare, Angelus hissed, “I’m getting really tired of it. We either make up now and this stops or we fuck and then this stops. Either way, this stops, Buff.”

The end of his pre-threat words seized her attention. “What do you mean?” Buffy asked sharply.

“You’re not stupid, lover. I can’t break it down any further without using live-action.”

“No, not that,” she clarified without any vicious heat. Her eyes narrowed slightly in evidence of confusion. “Did you say you felt me?”

“Why do you think I’m here, Buff?” he asked sourly. “After you tossed me aside for those brats, I definitely wasn’t going to come back for more of your abuse.”

“Abuse?” Buffy’s eyes darkened in annoyance before clearing. “We’re not going to get into that now,” she stated firmly. “Why did you come back?”

Angelus’ grin was cocky and smug. “I literally felt your pain and I had to know what was causing it.” With that, he waited for Buffy’s reaction. ‘Come, my darling. Let’s dispense with all this unnecessary drama and get back to where we were before interruption.’

“You felt me.” She appeared floored with the knowledge. “I-I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Fucked up, ain’t it?” Angelus stated rather than asked, trademark smirk firmly in place. His sharp gaze located hers and finished with, “Bonding can be a bitch but it is what it is. You keep fighting it and in the end nothing changes. Accept it.”

Buffy wondered somberly, “Do you accept how it is?”

He narrowed his eyes in suppressed, sudden rage. Did he accept her? Did he accept this burden on his life? Glancing down, he frowned at the dirt marring his cuffs. For the first time in days, Angelus seemed to realize his sorry physical state. ‘Look at you. You lost all your damned pride and power just because this little piece of tail turned you down? It’s sickening.’

In the aftermath of his inner thoughts, he couldn’t tell if it was his demon or his will condemning him.

“Do you?” she repeated, a barely leashed note of urgency riding high in her voice.

Releasing a nasty stream of curses, Angelus whipped his proffered hand in the air and snarled, “We’re bonded. It happened. I’m not going to fight it and neither should you.” With subtle violence he extended it back to her and raised his brow in imperious command. “Now take my fucking hand before I leave you here in the dirt.”

Buffy suddenly released a bubble of laughter. Even though it had a tinge of mania, the expression in her hazel eyes grew clear with peace. Firmly gripping his hand with hers, she waited until he effortlessly lifted her up before saying, “I’m crazy. I really am.”

‘She took it.’ The weight that had been resting heavily on his shoulders for a week slid away. Her body’s heat felt so good, so incredibly warm that Angelus could feel his own body react instantly to it.

“It’s stupid and I know it, but I’ve missed this,” she admitted softly as she lifted his hand to her face. “I’ve missed you being like this.”

“Like what?” he growled, hardly able to focus on her words as the need to be inside Buffy nearly drowned out all newfound control.

Rubbing her cheek against his cool skin, she answered wryly, “All arrogant and bossy. Until you rudely told me to get off my ass, I had no idea how much I missed you.”

Angelus leaned in and sniffed her hair, relishing in the mixture of both their scents. “You are crazy,” he sighed in bliss. “Absolutely insane…just like me.” ‘It’s over.’ Without waiting for consent, he pulled her close. “Insane, Buff. We’re both insane for being like this,” he huskily murmured. “Insane.”

“I know I must be,” Buffy quietly stated. “I must be for needing you so badly.”

Unable to keep his hands from running down her curves, Angelus found his lips murmuring the questions that only seemed to unman him. “Then why did you turn away from me? Why did you seek my head?”

Buffy’s heart began to hammer furiously against his chest and answered her question without words. “You broke my heart, Angelus,” she whispered softly.

The sadness in her voice reproached him.

Before he could even think to respond, Buffy abruptly pushed him back. “Even though I’ve accepted my need for you and we’ve gotten back together, I want you to know one thing.”

Impatiently waiting for her to continue, Angelus curtly nodded his head in answer even as his hands pulled her back to him.

“Don’t ever say that to me again.”

“Say what?”

An incredible expression of misery took hold of Buffy’s lovely face. Before she spoke Angelus felt its echo within his chest.

“Don’t ever say you wish me dead.”

Holding the Slayer within his arms, the dark vampire pondered her words for several seconds. Death. How could such a vicious, ugly state ever touch this beautiful golden girl of his? It couldn’t. It wouldn’t. There was no point in discussing it. ‘I can protect her from all threat,’ Angelus thought in determination. ‘She belongs to me and I won’t let her go.’

Once more, his demon made an unwelcome appearance.

‘UNTIL YOU TIRE OF HER! THEN YOU CAN SLIT HER THROAT AND TOSS HER AWAY LIKE THE GARBAGE SHE IS!’

Angelus could feel a low growl seep into his throat, begging to be released. His hands tightened as the need to push Buffy away took hold. He could feel his bestial side struggling to break free from its human shackles. Angelus kept it back with vicious ruthlessness, but he could sense his will slipping.

Now was not the time to have her close to his darkness, not when she had just accepted him again. ‘I’ll hurt her and it won’t even be as a game.’

Unaware of her lover’s internal war, Buffy clutched him close and waited for him to soothe her fears. However, as the seconds turned into minutes, her face shifted from expectant, to troubled, to scared, and finally to furiously hurt.

Shoving away from his possessive hold, she shouted, “You can’t even lie, can you?”

Snapping out of his private battle, Angelus was suddenly able to lock away the evil. In doing so, he found himself feeling disoriented. ‘What is she yelling about now?’ He reached out to bring her close, only to feel the sting of her fingers. Frowning blackly, he wondered, ‘She asked me a question, didn’t she? What was it?’

Buffy slapped away his hands and stepped back. “You asked what we’re doing here, well now I’m asking it!” she yelled. “‘I hate you, Buff. You belong to me, Darling. You make me sick, Whore. Smile for me, Baby. I want you dead, Bitch.’”

‘Ah, I get it now.’ Instead of reacting with fury, Angelus smiled beautifully and crooned, “Calm down, Sweetie.”

His kind words only seemed to infuriate Buffy further. “No, I won’t calm down! You just don’t get it.” Her mouth tightened as she looked down in disgust. “If I died by some demon’s sword tonight, you’d be jumping headstones in joy. Damnit---”

Angelus’ calm voice cut cleanly through her rage.

“I wouldn’t.” Her surprised pause quickly crumbled away. “I’d be beyond pissed it wasn’t by my sword.”

Buffy’s eyes darkened with angry tears before spilling down onto her pale cheeks. “Then there’s nothing left to say, is there?”

“Oh, I think there is.” Snatching her by the back of the neck, Angelus leaned close and whispered, “If you are ever to die in this world, then it should be by my hand. No other. You belong to me, Buffy. Forever.” Lifting her chin with the tips of his fingers, he growled, “Nothing will take you from me, do you understand?”

Buffy stood within his hard embrace, her eyes brightening with the joy that could only come from toxic love. Her answer, when it came, was in the form of a precious kiss.

Angelus’ mouth curved in remembrance. If they had rutted in a crypt, it wouldn’t have been unique nor would it have been the first time for them, but something unique did happen---nothing. Nothing had happened. There had been no make-up sex for them, at least not then.

From there, they had walked hand in hand to her house but only after ensuring Willow and Xander had made it home safely. Even though he had assured her no vampire was suicidal enough to attack them, she had insisted and he had been powerless to deny her.

“We didn’t…” Angelus paused as he tried to find the right word. “Sleep…with each other immediately, did we?” he whispered to the still-sleeping girl. “It was definitely a first for us.”

It WAS odd for them, especially because the scent of lust permeated the dark air around them. However, the closer they got to Buffy’s house, the more agitated she had become. Her guilt and fear would not be appeased until she had made sure Joyce was safe. And even though her mother had been sleeping heavily, Buffy kept vigilance over her until the early morning light had seeped through the blinds.

It was there in the darkness that Angelus had found himself sitting alongside his mistress, legs stretched in front with only the ticking of the clock and Joyce’s heartbeat to keep them company. With hands still entwined they had talked for hours, hesitant and awkward at first but soon she was regaling him with stories of life in the sun. As Buffy’s head lay on his shoulder, he began sharing what night was like on the Continent, without the bloodiness until she asked to hear that too.

By the time the alarm went off, Angelus felt as if he knew Buffy in a way he hadn’t considered before. The only parts of her he had ever demanded had been her heart and body, but never the pieces that made her unique.

His gaze softened as she murmured incoherently before snuggling close to his chest. Pulling the blanket over her naked shoulder, Angelus leaned down and nuzzled her ear. With little effort, he took in her scent and let it fill his body just as her blood already did.

Although he still didn’t know nearly enough about her, he now knew that the scar on her knee came from sliding down a tree when she was four. And although she had never been to Venice, she knew what it was like to glide through the canals beneath the stars.

“I don’t understand this change you’ve wrought in me, little girl. You’ve welcomed me into your heart, even though I sin against you.” A troubled frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as he stated, “Even though I still sin.”

“Hmm,” Buffy quietly murmured as her eyes fluttered open. As soon as her gaze focused upon his face, a beautiful smile lifted her pink mouth. “Angelus,” she sighed as she reached up to hug him.

Accepting her trusting caress, the vampire dismissed his uncharacteristically guilty thoughts. It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. He pulled back and kissed her temple in greeting. “Let’s go to bed, Sleepy-Head.”

“Already?” Buffy asked with a yawn. “But I’ve just woken up.”

“But you still need your sleep,” he patiently countered.

A small pout replaced her smile.

“Aren’t we going to…you know?”

“Greedy wench.”

“You made me that way,” she pointed out impishly.

“Well, not tonight. Tonight you’re going to be a lady.” Without waiting for her to answer, Angelus lifted her petite body off the couch.

“But I don’t want to be a lady!” she complained. “And it’s not fair. How come you get to decide when we do it?”

Striding towards the bedroom, he nestled her close and abruptly starting laughing. Oh, my darling---you do put a smile on my face.

“What is it?” Buffy demanded suspiciously.

“Nothing, lover,” he lied between chuckles.

The tenor of his laugh was different than any she had ever heard before. This time it sounded…genuine?

“Angelus, what is it?”

A drunk, glittering gaze met hers. Squeezing her tighter, he admonished, “You talk too much, Darling.”

Feeling a tremor of fear, she leaned her head against his chest. Buffy commanded her body to calm itself before Angelus smelled the signs of weakness.

It was too late.

“You scared of a little joy, Buff?” his sanguine voice slyly murmured.

“Yours? Yes,” she admitted with clear candor.

Depositing her on the bed, Angelus reached out and touched her nose with a playful finger. “Don’t be,” he commanded with friendly firmness. “At least not tonight.”

“You’re really not going to tell me?”

“No.”

With a heavy, dramatic sigh Buffy leaned over to the set the small alarm for 5:45am.

“You know that’s what the concierge desk is for,” Angelus dryly pointed out as he slipped into bed with her.

Releasing the button, she leaned back against the fluffy pillows and frowned.

“No way! It’s too embarrassing.”

“Why? They know you’re up here.”

“Don’t remind me!” she cried while her hands flew up to her blushing cheeks. “Oh, my God,” she groaned. “They know we do IT.”

“I hope so,” he breathed lasciviously. “After all, I’d hate for my virility to be questioned.”

“Virility? Wouldn’t I have to be pregnant for that to be proved?” Buffy asked dryly. Although she hadn’t initially meant for her comment to be taken seriously, the stark expression of rage and longing in Angelus’ face shocked her into silence.

“Go to sleep, lover,” he commanded after several tense seconds.

Lying down obediently, Buffy tried to understand what had just happened. She closed her lids and was instantly haunted by the image of a beautiful little boy with dark hair, pale skin, and hazel eyes.

“If you could, would you?”

The somber question brought to painful life a million images she would never have with Angelus.

“Would you?” he asked softly while reaching out to touch her flat, girlish stomach.

Would I? He’s unstable, violent, moody, childish, and way too possessive. He hurts my feelings without caring and consumes my every thought. The sensation of his fingers inspired a strange comfort within Buffy. Her body stirred with awareness, not sexually, but in the knowledge that she belonged to him and that after she stripped away the guilt and confusion, it was what she really wanted.

He’s a bully, yet he’s kind for a vampire, honors his word, doesn’t hurt anyone I care about, and understands me in a way not even my Watcher does. Every time I thought I wouldn’t be able to live up to my expectations he’s been there to push me along. He’s shown me I’m not stupid, that I can learn, and that I can be better. He’s taken care of me when I most needed it. He’s helped me make my Mom proud of me. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel beautiful.

“Would you?” he prompted harshly.

And I love him.

Turning her head, Buffy easily found his hooded gaze despite the darkness. Her answer, although not possessing the power to change the impossible, did speak with conviction.

“Yes.”

Angelus’ mouth twitched with an enigmatic smile. “You know it’d be forever, don’t you?” Reaching out, he brushed his fingers across her womb. “It’d be forever.”

“Isn’t it already forever?” she bravely asked.

He froze in the midst of his caressing and looked down into her face. The vulnerability painted itself across the surface of her mouth, even though Buffy tried her hardest to suppress it.

His demon shouted, “FOREVER IS YOUR DEATH, WHORE!”

His head shouted, “LAUGH AT HER AND MAKE HER CRY! THEN SHE’LL KNOW BETTER THAN TO ASK STUPID QUESTIONS!”

However, something else whispered, “Yes, it is.”

“Forever, Angelus.”

“Forever, Buffy.”

At the scent of her tears, Angelus fit her body to his and felt a softer emotion stir within his loins. When her arms wrapped around his neck in familiar longing, he buried his face against her sweetly scented hair.

It was then that Angelus knew with complete certainty that Buffy was no longer prey but something better. The whole world seemed to wait with malicious breath to see him put her in the ground. Well, fuck the world. And fuck Spike and Dru too. Granted, he had been promising the Slayer’s heart as a token for his mad childe, but he was just going to have to make a lie of those words.

And as far as that traitorous cocksucker was concerned, he could just burst into ashes. Angelus needed to explain himself to no one. Besides, Spike would do what he was damned well told to do!

As leader of their clan, he was entitled to do what he wanted with any human in Sunnydale. So while it had been his decision to kill her, it was now his decision to keep her. Forever.

“Safe. You’re safe.”

“You came. They told me you wouldn’t.”

“Safe.”

“I’m sorry that I believed them.”

“I can’t risk you anymore.”

“Angelus?”

“Close your eyes, my love.”

The nightmare materialized before his sight, staining the room with death and pain. Scowling at the image, he gave into his weakness and shut his eyes. He willed it to disappear before cautiously lifting his lids. The shadows returned back to normal.

I was wrong that night in the cemetery. Buffy WILL NOT die by my hand.

It was as good as an oath for Angelus.

His lips began their familiar journey over her bare shoulder, down her slender arm, and back to her perfect neck. Her soft cries of passion filled his ears while her tongue filled his mouth. Soon their bodies joined together, legs locked in a singular display of gentle lust.

Angelus worshipped Buffy with his body in several different ways as her words of devotion and love spilled across his skin. Buried deep within her backside, he reached down and filled her core with his fingers. Listening to her third orgasm with supreme satisfaction, he finally allowed himself to join her.

Sliding down into the bed, he felt Buffy’s sweat on his skin and irrationally enjoyed the guise of humanity it gave his cold flesh.

“Will you be different tomorrow, Angelus?”

“What do you mean?”

The rustling of sheets whispered her movements as she raised herself on one hand. “Will this be over once the sun rises? Will you change your mind and break my heart?”

Staring off into the shadows, Angelus heard a whisper of fear. Mistakenly, he thought it was hers. “No, Buffy,” he whispered as he tugged her back down. “Tomorrow will be the same. And the tomorrow after that. And the one after that. Nothing will change.”

“I believe you.” Snuggling closer to him, Buffy repeated, “I believe you.”

Angelus reached out and held her tightly to his dead heart. “Nothing will change,” he repeated with determination.

Unfortunately for this sad, little love story, they were both wrong.

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