"Can you contemplate getting over yourself for a second?" she snapped, "I don't love you, Angel. There isn't some conspiracy here. Now pull over and let me out."
"No."
"You can't keep me prisoner!" she shouted, banging her fist on the dashboard in emphasis. He didn't answer her, which only infuriated her more. She swung, attempting to hit him but he caught her arm and twisted it, effectively wrenching her against the seat in a hold she couldn't break free of without dislocating her shoulder in the process. He winced at her yelp of pain but held her there for a moment until she stopped struggling.
"I don't want to hurt you, Buffy," Angel finally said quietly, "But I'm not letting you go, so please don't make this harder. We'll be there in an hour and then you'll have a week with me. If you don't love me by the end of the week, I'll let you go. It's as simple as that."
"You've got to be joking!" she screamed, "I am not staying anywhere with you for a week."
"I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice."
***
//infectious sense of hopelessness//
"They're both gone," Giles said once Willow, Xander, Cordelia and Doyle gathered at his house early the next evening. The search party had left them all exhausted and irritated and most importantly, empty handed, "Disappeared without a trace."
"Do you think Angel took her?" Willow asked, shifting nervously in her seat.
"Of course he took her!" Xander shouted, "Did you see how damn looney he was last night? He all but told us he was going to do it. We're just stupid."
"Speak for yourself," Cordelia said with a dainty snort.
"He'd never hurt the girl," Doyle added quietly. He never really felt like one of the team and he knew that Cordelia was only in the tight knit group when she chose to be. But he had to speak up for his friend, "He wants to wait until the drugs wear off. He thinks she'll be better then."
"Do you know where he's taken her?" Giles asked, his eyes pleading for an answer.
"*I* don't," Doyle started.
"But you know who does?" Willow asked.
"I know who might."
"Who?"
"Spike."
***
//i would have left the world all bleeding
could i only help you, love//
Buffy had tried everything to get Angel to stop the car, including the bathroom excuse, which he knew was probably true, but still wouldn't relent. She had one hour to wait and then they would be there. He had absolutely no intention of letting her out of the car in the freezing cold only to end up chasing her up a mountain for half the day. He felt horrible about it but he was doing what was necessary.
Angel pulled up a unpaved road that was barely wide enough for his car. They traveled along it for several miles, moving slowly as the car jutted in and out of the potholes that the dirt road provided every other foot. He gritted his teeth as the harsh bumps jarred them, knowing he would have to replace the shocks after this little trip. Hopefully, he would be laughing about it with Buffy when he did. Something deep inside him told him there was a strong possibility he would never laugh with her about anything again.
She rubbed her bare shoulders and shivered in the cold. He glanced over at her as he cranked up the heat. She was wearing the little white tank top and cotton pants that she had slept in. Her bare feet were curled underneath her and she huddled up, trying to get warm.
"What are you looking at?" she demanded, pressing harder against the door, "Do you enjoy watching me suffer?"
"No," he answered honestly and pulled his leather jacket from the backseat and handed it to her. She looked at it with disgust and turned up her nose.
"I'd rather freeze."
"No you wouldn't," he said, laying it across her lap, "You hate the cold, Buffy. Just put it on."
"If you know I hate the cold then why did you bring me here, Angel? Why are we in the middle of some god forsaken mountain where no living thing can living because it's so damn cold here? You say you love me, then why are you doing this to me?"
"I do love you," Angel said as he pulled up in front of a small, rustic cabin that looked as if a light breeze would carry it away, "And even if you can't remember that you love me, I know you remember that I love you."
She didn't answer but looked out the window instead, eyeing the tiny cabin with disdain. A week in that tiny place with him alone? She would be insane before she could leave. She turned back around when she heard him get out of the car, his exit punctuated by a gust of freezing air. She couldn't walk bare foot to the cabin in this temperature, even if it was only ten feet. There was no way she would allow that brute of an ex-lover to carry her, so she had resigned to sit in the car until she came up with a better idea.
Angel, however, was not about to give her a choice. He pulled a bag from the trunk, slung it over his shoulder, yanked open her door and swept her into his arms. She kicked and screamed in protest all the way to the cabin, where he opened the door and stepped inside. He set her on her feet and closed the door before heading over to the fireplace to light a fire.
"Whose place is this?" she asked, moving to stand on a rug across the room rather than the planked wooden floor, so her feet weren't quite as cold.
"Lindsey's," he answered as he piled wood in the fireplace and lit a fire. He felt slightly guilty for making Lindsey an accomplice in this, but not enough to keep him from doing it. McDonald was a good guy, but he was also perfectly willing to steal Buffy at any time. That thought alone kept him from feeling *too* bad about it.
"I don't love you, Angel," she said, crossing her arms with determination. He stood slowly and faced her. The pain on his face was almost enough for her to feel something for him. It tugged a tiny bit at her heart and she had to listen closely as he said, "I know you don't, baby."
***
//everything was true
it couldn't be a story//
"Did all you Scoobies pile in the mystery machine to visit me?" Spike said, inhaling deeply on his cigarette when he finished speaking. He sat in the center of his bar, legs propped up on an empty chair surveying the group of people standing before him.
"I want to know where he's taken my niece," Giles said firmly, stepping forward, "Do you have that information?"
"What if I did?" Spike asked. He knew the moment Doyle called this little meeting that they were going to interrogate him about Peaches' little loss of sanity. He'd be damned if he was going to let that wanker of an uncle intimidate him just because he had connections. "Why would I tell you losers?"
"Spike," Doyle urged, "They're just worried about the lass."
"She's outta her bloody mind," Spike answered, leaning back in his chair, "They both are. They deserve each other if you ask me. Location doesn't have shit to do with it. Anyway, I can't tell you where he took the bint. He didn't tell me."
"But you know something, right?" Willow asked timidly, "I mean, he told you that he was going to do it."
"Yeah, pet," Spike nodded, "He told me. Peaches knew you people would go nuts when he took her. He told me to tell you he'd come back in a week when the drugs wore off."
"And?" Doyle prodded, knowing his friend and employer better than anyone else in the room.
"Bloody hell, Doyle," Spike spat as he stood up, "Can't you just pick a fucking side? Fine, mate. Darla's in on this. So's Jhiera, Ford and my old buddy, Penn. They're all in on this master plan to split ‘em apart. Angel has Gunn's guys keeping surveillance on all of them until he gets back - all of them except Ford."
"He's not having Ford watched?" Xander shouted, "Of all the people he should have under surveillance that nut job is rating pretty high on the list."
"He's not having Ford watched," Spike said, "because he has the fucker with him."
"Oh dear," Giles muttered, pulling off his glasses to clean them thoroughly.
"Yeah," Spike nodded with a grin, "The poof has lost his gob."
***
//you're a fucking waste//
Angel waited until Buffy got into the shower and then donned his jacket. He ran swiftly up the side of the mountain, stopping briefly to tuck his car keys into a box and lodge them inside a dead tree trunk. He couldn't have Buffy taking off in the middle of the night. He continued up the mountain, weaving through an almost nonexistent path, breathing heavily in the thinner air as he ran. Finally after five minutes, he stopped at another cabin not unlike the one he had just left. He burst through the door and slammed it shut behind him, leaving the cold air outside.
"You found it," Lindsey said from his comfy position on the couch.
"Yeah," Angel answered with a nod, "Helluva jog."
"Told you."
"Where's sleeping beauty?" Angel asked, glancing around.
"I thought about leaving the bastard in the trunk," Lindsey said with a grin, "But he's in here."
Angel followed him back into the small bedroom and found their very alert and awake prisoner, gagged and bound on the floor next to a sturdy four poster bed. Angel pulled the gag off and Ford heaved breaths for a moment before speaking, "You bastard."
"Oh, *I'm* the bastard?" Angel asked. Bending over, he punched him in the jaw, leaving a bloody lip behind for his efforts. "I don't give a shit what you think, boy. You'd better start praying you have the ability to walk upright when this is over."
"Where the hell are we and what am I doing here? Did you bring me all this way so you could beat me up? You could have done that in LA...where it's warm."
"No," Angel said, "I brought you here because I might need you if she doesn't get better. You have one week to wait. If she regains her memory and is okay, then I'll let you live. If a week passes and she isn't better, I'm going to break your fucking legs before we try again."
"The drug has a cumulative effect," Ford whined, "I can't guarantee she'll be better in a week or even in two weeks. I have no idea how long it'll last."
"Then I have no idea how long you'll walk," Angel said, turning and heading towards the door. He stopped and looked over at Lindsey who had a bit of sadism gleaming in his blue eyes, "By the way, this is Lindsey. He'll be your roommate for the duration of your stay."
Angel walked back out into the main room and waited as Lindsey joined him. Taking on a look of gratitude, he looked at his friend, "I owe you for this."
"Yes," Lindsey agreed, "You do."
"No matter what happens with Buffy. I won't forget this."
"If she chooses me," Lindsey said unsteadily, "You'll walk away?"
"I can't promise that."
***
//oh remember
please//
"Where were you?" Buffy demanded as he walked back in the door. She was wearing blue jeans and a sweater that he had brought her. They were some of the clothes she had left behind at the apartment. She was grateful that he had thought of that. She just wished he had brought her shoes as well.
"Getting some fresh air," he said, tossing his jacket off. He laid down on the couch, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.
"You brought me all the way up here and now you're going to take a nap?" she shouted incredulously.
"I drove all night, love," he said, "So yes, I thought I'd try to get a little sleep."
"What if I do something to you while you're sleeping?" she asked, "What if I leave?"
"You won't do anything to me, Buffy. You're not that kind of person. The car keys are hidden," he said, yawning, "And it's below freezing out there. I think you'll be here when I wake up."
"What if I'm not?" she countered.
"Then I'll go look for you," he said, keeping his eyes closed.
"I hate you," she swore, "I'll never love you."
"I hope that's not true, Buffy."
"It is."
***
Part Nine "Help Me"
***
//tonight i'm losing control
tonight i'm screaming like an animal//
The first four days passed so slowly that both Buffy and Angel were convinced they were the longest days of their lives. Angel spent his time pretending not to watch her and she pretended she didn't notice. They ate in silence, read in silence and looked out the windows with the same deadly silence.
Buffy was confused. She didn't love him. She was certain of it and yet, for reasons she couldn't begin to explain, she thought she should. The nights were the only time she was able to feel anything. She dreamed of him, cried out his name in her sleep and woke up gasping for breath, reaching for him and coming back empty handed. In her sleep she loved him, so much in fact, that she couldn't think straight.
And she was happy - ecstatically, insanely joyful. Before he kidnapped her, the dreams were there but not nearly as vivid as they had become now that she spent every waking second near this beautifully kind and loving man. Those chocolate brown eyes stared at her in the day filled with concern, sorrow and fear but at night they danced with lust, love and happiness. When she was awake she couldn't tap those feelings and the knowledge was eating her alive. The only emotions she could muster were anger and frustration.
Angel spent those nights trying to sleep and desperately trying to block out the sounds of her whimpers and screams. The first night he actually had to put on his shoes and leave the cabin to keep himself from running to her side and holding her. The second night as she writhed and wept in her sleep, Angel ran out of the cabin again, taking that trail up the mountain. He burst into the cabin and found Lindsey sleeping soundly in the bed and Ford bound on the floor.
He flipped on the light, waking them both up in the process, and glared at the man tied up on the floor. He crossed the room in two broad steps and kicked up, making contact with Ford's shocked face. He bent over, picked him up and slammed him against the wall several times, enjoying the sound of skull against wood.
"She cries in her sleep, did you know that?" he growled, looking over his captive's surprised and bleeding face. Ford didn't speak at first, he just stared at the lunatic holding him against the wall. Angel tossed him to the floor with disgust.
"Smart thinking," Angel said, "You should keep your mouth shut because there is no correct answer here. If you say yes, that tells me you've been with her when she's sleeping and that alone is enough to kill you. If you say no, then that tells me that you have no fucking idea what you're doing to her."
"Angel," Lindsey said calmly from where he now stood next to the bed, prepared to save Ford's worthless life if he needed to, "Maybe you should..."
"Stay out of this, Lindsey," Angel said, shooting him a warning look before turning back to Ford, "This is between me and my lover's rapist."
"Wait a minute," Ford objected, speaking for the first time, "I never-"
A boot to the chest not only silenced him, but made him cough up blood. Angel's lips were curled in a sneer as he continued, "You raped her mind. You violated her! And now she cries in her sleep every night. She sobs and screams and writhes in bed like she's being attacked. She calls for help, but I can't help her, can I? CAN I?"
A sharp kick to the ribs forced a strangled, "No," to come from him.
"No," Angel said nodding, "I can't. But let me leave you with this little thought. When she calls for help, she calls my name. She still loves me.
When her memory comes back, I'm going to spend the rest of my life with her just like I planned and the only thing that keeps you alive is that I can't be with her if I'm in jail."
***
//i'm getting so low and all i want is to be with you again//
Angel kept thinking that he would be able to handle being so close to her, that it would get easier to be with her and not touch her. He was wrong. It was aching torment. Every second of every day was like a year in hell. She was cold and distant. She didn't speak and when she did he wished she hadn't because her words were harsh and even mean. He would have done anything to go back a month and half to the day he first laid eyes on Billy Fordham. He could have stopped it all from happening.
Now he spent his days with the woman he loved more than anything, watching her hate him. He kept himself from going up the mountain and killing Ford every day. At night when her sobs of pain filled the small wooden building, he felt a kind of rage that made him want to keep Ford alive just so that he could hurt him again and again. He knew, however, that torturing him would serve no purpose whatsoever except for revenge. The damage was done and all he had left was time to wait.
On the fourth night when Buffy woke screaming Angel's name, she reached for him just as she always did and as usual she came back with nothing but blankets and sheets. That night she slipped out of bed and went into the living room where he slept on the couch. She looked over him for a second, lying on his side, muscular chest peeking out from the blanket that covered him. Taking a shaky breath, she crossed the room, gently moved his arm aside, lifted the blanket and crawled underneath it, pressing her back against his chest. She covered them up again and squeezed her eyes shut. Emotions from her dreams were still washing over her and as painful as they were, they felt real - twisted and broken and real. Nothing felt real anymore but those dreams, those memories. She admitted to herself for the first time that night that something was wrong with her. There had to be.
"You're awake aren't you?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," he said, releasing the breath he had been holding. He was afraid to move, that if he did she would leave. Instead, she pulled his arm around her waist and rubbed the hand that now spanned her belly.
"I loved you, didn't I?" she asked after a long moment of listening to his ragged breathing.
"Yes," he croaked, trying to hold on to whatever strength he might have had left.
"Every night," she whispered, "I dream of you and in my dreams I love you. I love you so much that it hurts inside and then in the morning, it slips away."
"Buffy-"
"Please don't," she whispered, "I need you to know. I can't feel anything, Angel. I don't love anything or anyone. I'm can't even remember loving at all. I can't remember my mom. Why can't I remember her, Angel?"
She started to cry, shuddering violently against him. He whispered soothing words in her ear and held her more tightly as she sobbed. She turned over and pressed her face against his chest as her petite frame convulsed in sorrow. When she finally calmed, she stayed there nestled against him.
Every time Ford had touched her, she flinched but when Angel touched her she didn't. She wanted more of him. With her face against his chest, it was so easy to kiss the bare skin there, so she did. The taste of him was familiar, sweet and addictive. She kissed him again and again, sweeping her soft lips over him, licking the salt from his skin. He laid there frozen with indecision while she moved against him, allowing her hands to move over him. Her mind couldn't remember loving him but her body did.
"Please. Don't," he said, forcing the words out of his mouth.
"I thought you loved me," she said, raising her head to look at his face. She could barely see him in the dark, but she didn't need to with the pain coming through in his words, "I thought you wanted me."
"I do," he said, "I can't make love to you if you aren't making love to me, Buffy. I can't do this knowing it means nothing to you."
"It means something," she answered, "I...want to love you, Angel, I just don't know how. Help me to remember. "
He didn't speak, but laid there in silence, trying to make out the expression on her face in the dark. Finally, when he didn't respond, she stood and stumbled toward the bedroom, ashamed and hurt. She made it halfway across the room before he flung the blanket aside and caught her, crushing his lips to hers. She opened her mouth and sighed into his kiss as their tongues dueled in each other's mouths.
It had been so long since he touched her and she felt like heaven, like everything he had ever wanted. When he told Lindsey that nothing mattered without her, he had been telling the truth. Nothing mattered after she left. He tried to paint but couldn't. He tried to sketch but ended up tearing the sheets from his sketchbook. He couldn't get through a meal without wanting to vomit. He couldn't sleep without her tucked by his side and he didn't want to live one more second without her in his arms. He wanted to be noble and tell himself that he wouldn't be with her if she didn't love him, but the truth was that any part of her was better than nothing at all.
He backed her toward the bedroom, pulling her clothes off as he went. When they reached the bed, they were free of the material obstructions and he was finally able to move his hands over her bare skin again. One would think that a month wouldn't make that much difference, but he felt like it had been much longer. Her skin was just as soft as he remembered and it tasted just as sweet - honey infused with vanilla, sunshine painted over flesh. He brushed aside the twisted blankets and sheets and lowered her to the bed. He took his time as he kissed every inch of her, reacquainting himself with her flushed skin. He moved over her neck, clavicle, breasts and the valley in between. Each rib was given its own moment of adoration. She moved her hands over him, arching against his touch. He pressed back up against her moving hands, silently begging her not to stop caressing him. His hands were shaking as he moved down her inner thighs. She opened easily for him just as she always had, unfolding for his touch. As he positioned himself at her dripping opening, he forced himself not to stop, not to think about it. He entered her fully and felt pain and joy exploding in his chest at the same time. It was wonderful and completely horrible as he moved smoothly inside her. She rose to meet his thrusts and finally wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in deeper.
When she came, he buried his face in her neck, breathing hard against the column of her throat. He let go as well, losing himself in his lover. He collapsed against her, resting his head at her breast, puffing air over her skin. Finally, he slipped out of her and rolled over on his back. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, waiting. She moved over and laid her head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat, she fingered the long chain around his neck. When she reached the bottom, where it lay against his chest she felt the charm there. After a moment, she realized it wasn't a charm at all. It was her engagement ring. Holding it there, she tried to remember loving him, being engaged to him, living with him - all those memories were lost somewhere inside her mind.
"I didn't sleep with him," Buffy finally said quietly, "In case you were wondering."
He stayed silent but gripped her more tightly as she spoke, "Whenever he touched me, I flinched. He felt wrong. I thought you might want to know."
"W-where...did he touch you?" he finally asked, thinking of those nights when he stayed outside Giles' house or Ford's, when she was in there with him where he couldn't see. Most of the nights he had stayed awake thinking of her had been filled with the possibilities of what had happened between them. Finally, he convinced himself that she hadn't allowed him to touch her at all. It was the only way he could sleep at all.
"Here," she said, pulling his hand to her lips, "And here," she whispered, moving his hand over her neck. She took him on a painful journey of where Ford had touched her, moving his hand over her back and down to cup her ass. As she moved his hand around to the front of her, he stiffened and closed his eyes. He didn't want to know, but he *had* to know. Gritting his teeth, he allowed her to move his hand over her abdomen. She slid up to her breasts but just as his fingertips brushed the soft underside, she stopped and dropped his hand.
"I don't think I can live without you, Buffy," he admitted as she settled back against his chest, "and I'm sure I don't want to."
"Do you think this drug will wear off?" she asked, fingering her diamond ring, "Do you think I'll be me again?"
"Yes," he said, "I can't believe anything else."
***
//then the heat disappears and the mirage fades away//
The week came to a close and Buffy wasn't any closer to remembering love. The last few days were better for both of them, though. They stayed in each others arms, receiving comfort from one another, although it was stilted and strange. On the seventh day, Angel left the cabin and trudged up the hill again, grabbing his keys from the stump on the way up and shoving them into his pocket. He knocked on the door sharply before entering and found Lindsey reading a book on the couch.
"Time's up," Angel said sullenly.
"And?" Lindsey said, "Is she better cause I'm getting a little stir crazy in here."
"No," he said, "She's not. Ford in the bedroom?"
"Yep," Lindsey said as Angel went in that direction. Angel stopped just inside the room and looked over him for a full minute before taking another step inside the room.
"What are you going to do with him?" Lindsey asked, leaning against the doorframe.
"I don't know," Angel said, "Maybe we should leave him here to starve to death."
"Nah," Lindsey said, "I'm not going to come up here for hunting season to find his mangled corpse in my bedroom."
"Good point," Angel said, grabbing Ford and dragging him out to the truck. As he tossed him to the ground near the passenger door, he caught sight of a figure a few paces away. He looked up to find that Buffy had not gotten in the shower after all, but had followed him up the mountain. He looked down at her sock clad feet covered in dirt and leaves with regret.
"Buffy..."
"Oh my God," she whispered, moving forward, looking from Angel to Lindsey to Ford and back again, "What are you doing? Are you insane?"
"Yes," Angel said quietly. Behind him, Lindsey nodded his head emphatically. Angel was definitely not playing with a full deck since Buffy left him.
"Buffy," Ford croaked, "Please help me. He's crazy. He thinks I did something to you, but you know I would never hurt you."
"Baby, listen," Angel said, taking a step towards her, "I didn't tell you they were up here because I knew it would upset you. I just needed him to be here in case you didn't get better."
"I'm not better, Angel!" Buffy shouted, "What are you going to do now? Kill him?"
"No," Angel said, "I wouldn't kill anyone. You have to believe me."
"I don't know what to believe. All three of you are...God, I don't even know what you are! You're sick."
"Buffy, please," Angel said, taking another step towards her.
"No," she said, stepping back. He moved toward her swiftly and she turned ran up the mountain, winding around the trees. She tried to watch her step and keep moving forward but the lack of shoes and the cold severely hindered her speed. She could hear his large feet pounding in the ground behind her and she knew he was going to catch up any second. She wasn't even sure why she was running. She wished she could run away from it all, make all this uncertainty and pain disappear.
His footsteps were just a few feet behind her and she turned to check his location. As she turned back around, she tripped on a rock in the path and fell forward. She hit the ground and felt a sharp pain in her side as she landed.
"Buffy!" Angel shouted. He fell to his knees beside her, "Are you okay?"
She stood and winced with pain, pushing him away from her. "Don't touch me," she said through gritted teeth, "Just take me home."
"Buffy," Angel pleaded, "I'm sorry, love. I didn't do this to upset you."
"Just take me home," she repeated, moving back down the mountain, holding her side. He fell into step behind her, cursing underneath his breath.
***
Part Ten "Memories"
***
//i feel like being eaten by a thousand
million shivering furry holes
and i know that in the morning i will wake up in the shivering cold//
Angel was drinking again. Sitting in his apartment with Buffy asleep in bed, he sat in the studio, downing whiskey at an alarming rate while he reflected on the past twenty-four hours. The car ride home had been a shouting match that escalated to screaming. She insisted that he let Ford go and he suggested that they toss his sorry ass off the side of the mountain while there was still a high enough cliff to kill him.
"Let him go," she had said finally in voice that left no room for arguments, "Or I will go straight to the police and turn both of you in for my kidnapping and his."
"You can't be serious," he groaned, fighting the urge to pound his head on the steering wheel, "Buffy, he DRUGGED you!"
"And I will leave town," she said quietly, looking out of the window as she spoke, "I'll get on the next plane and I won't tell you or anyone else where I'm going."
"Buffy..."
"I'm serious," she said, "He's a person. He might be a horrible person, but he is a person. Let him go or you won't see me again unless I regain my memory...and even then I can't promise I'll come home."
"I'll make a deal with you," he said, "Let me take you to the hospital to get your side looked at and promise me you will move back in the apartment until you regain your memory and then I let that jackass go."
"One night," she said, "I'll stay one night and no hospital."
"Hospital," he said firmly, "We go to the hospital and you stay for two weeks."
"No hospital and two *days*," she huffed, crossing her arms and refusing to meet his gaze. Instead she stared out the window, focusing on the passing scenery.
"No hospital, four days and I'll let him go," he grumbled, "And if you're still hurt, I'm dragging you kicking and screaming to the hospital."
Now, hours later, she was sleeping in their bed and he was sitting in the studio staring at that painting he had done of her when she still loved him. His eyes caressed the representation of her sated body, still glowing from his kisses. She had a little half smile on her face as she slept, dreaming the dreams of a woman in love.
She whimpered in her sleep and he took another drink, scowling as he swallowed. Her whimpers grew louder and more frequent but he stayed where he was. He couldn't stand the thought of going in there and looking down on her while she was in pain. He couldn't bear the idea that he had to spend one more night without his true love. Mostly, he couldn't believe that he had actually told Lindsey to let Ford go.
He bent and picked up a paint brush and ran his fingers along the edge of the bristles. The feel seemed foreign to him. It had been so long since he had even touched one or thought about making one swipe of color on an empty canvas. Sighing, he set down his drink, struggled slowly to his feet and arranged his supplies. He stood for a long time, staring at the empty canvas, trying to decide what to paint. The longer he stared, the more it wouldn't come and he knew that thinking about it was the problem.
She cried out his name from the bedroom but he stayed put. Instead of running to her side, he refilled his glass. He was going to cuddle with the only sure warmth in the apartment - alcohol and memories. Closing his eyes momentarily from the painful whimpers coming from her, he went to work.
As he worked, her sobbing ebbed through him, meshing sorrow with his paints, lacing fear on the canvas. He tried to remember her smile, her laughter and the love in her eyes, but the memories always shifted to the blank, cold look she had taken on. He shivered as he continued. The idea of living with their memories alone was frightening. A couple of months ago, he knew he had found the woman of his dreams and now he had no idea how to get her back.
He thought back on the night he asked her to marry him. She had been so beautiful and so forgiving for his jumpiness. He had been a nervous wreck, carrying that ring in his pocket for hours, carefully planning the suave, romantic evening and promising himself that he wouldn't lose his mind if she said no. He lurked around the apartment as she got ready for the romantic evening he had planned. He remembered her asking him to zip up the back of her dress and nearly ripping it as he struggled with the tiny, delicate zipper.
"What's the matter with you?" she had asked, turning around and grabbing his shaking hands, "Did something happen today?"
"No," he said, gulping and losing himself in her eyes. He was always taken by the power she wielded without even realizing it. She looked up at him questioningly and smoothed her hand over his cheek, searching his face, which was filled with more fear than if someone had a gun pressed to his head.
"What is it?" she prodded gently. Her other hand rested on his hip, squeezing gently as he stood rigidly still before her as if she were trying to physically press the answer from him.
"N-nothing. Are you ready to go?," he said, attempting to turn away. She caught him and gripped his upper arms, "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you're acting like a freak. What's wrong with you, Angel?"
"I love you, Buffy," he said more shakily than he had the first time he uttered those words to her, "I never want to lose you."
"You won't," she said, red lips slipping into a slow smile, "But what does that have to do with the way you're acting?"
"I planned all this perfectly," he said, prying her fingers from his arms before moving across the room to reach into the pocket of his leather jacket, "I had the dinner planned and the romantic stroll afterwards."
She watched him as he stalked back across the room, managing to look graceful even when he was covered with apprehension.
"I was going to get down on one knee," he said, lowering himself before her and opening the blue velvet box with shaking fingers, "And ask you to be my wife."
Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears as she looked at the offered symbol before her. She reached slowly out to touch the ring with her other hand as if she wanted to make sure that it was really there. He waited as her silence filled their bedroom and began to take root in his soul.
"I love you, Buffy. I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he whispered through weighted silence, "Will you marry me?" His resolve was waning as she looked into his eyes and he made himself wait there until she answered. He actually was beginning to think he would be knelt there all night and reduced to begging her to agree. There was no way this little blonde goddess would consent to his forever, but then she spoke in a choked whisper, "Yes."
"Yes?" he echoed in confusion. Surely she hadn't just agreed. He had already prepared the second part of the night where he consoled himself with the fact that she had refused him after hours of pleading.
"Yes," she confirmed slipping to her knees as well and pressing her lips against his. He wrapped his arms around her, still holding the ring and returned her kiss.
As he painted, he almost smiled at the memory. They had made love there on the floor of their bedroom and never made it to dinner or the romantic stroll or anywhere else. Hours later, they had rooted around on the floor looking for the ring, which had been tossed aside during their lovemaking. When he finally placed it on her finger, the sunrise was just contemplating its arrival. The sky was beginning to light up but the sun had not yet shone even a slice of her face.
He reached down and gathered the chain he wore around his neck. Looking over the ring for a moment, he wondered if she would ever remember that night they spent reaffirming their love and promising forever. He tried to convince himself that she would wear that ring again, that she would love him again but he couldn't be sure. Right then, she was whimpering in her sleep and he was in a separate room clinging to something that no longer existed.
He dropped the ring and it bounced against his chest as he moved forward to paint once more. Bitterly, he swiped at the canvas, letting his irritation come out in paint. If she never loved him again, he knew that he would never recover. He would become a shadow of the person he had been even before he met her and he would be lost.
***
//i could give you the wrong lines
feed you accuracy, accuracy
look into my eyes
we both smile
i could kill you without trying
that's accuracy, accuracy//
Billy Fordham limped into his apartment and looked around at the sparse decorations of a man who had never intended to stay. He lowered himself into a chair and looked around, cursing his stupidity. He had truly thought that Buffy would stop loving Angel with the help of Penn, Darla and Jhiera and she would fall in love with him. He had so many plans to move her from LA and all it's pretenses. The dreams of whisking her away to the East Coast had seemed so lifelike that it had never occurred to him that they would never happen.
"Did you tell him?" Jhiera said, waltzing through the front door.
"No," he muttered, not bothering to look up at her. He wasn't surprised at all that she was waiting for him, nor that she didn't care that he was obviously beaten and kidnaped. Jhiera was always more concerned with the big picture, "But I'm going to."
"He beat a conscience into you?" she asked, settling onto the couch and looking over his bruised face with disinterest.
"I need your help, Jhiera," he said, "I have to get the drug from Penn and Darla tonight."
"What's in it for me?" she asked with a cold smile.
"I'll do whatever you want," he said, "But if she doesn't get her memory back soon, the damages will be irreversible and I can't lose her. Not like this."
"Why would I help you?" she asked, rephrasing the same question, "Buffy is not what I've invested my time in."
"Angel will be destroyed by this," he said, shaking his head and regretting the movement, "He won't be the guy you want. I'm not sure he'll ever be that guy again."
"Dramatic, aren't we?"
"He's losing it," he said, rubbing his swollen jaw, "And it's just a matter of time before he snaps. Help me. Fuck, baby, help *him*."
"What do you want to do?" she sighed.
***
//i try and laugh about it
hiding the tears in my eyes
cause boys don't cry
boys don't cry//
Angel had resolved to paint and brood until the sun rose. He had promised himself that he would not run in when she cried out, but when her whimpers turned to screams, he unsteadily ran to the bedroom.
"ANGEL!" Buffy screamed as he arrived at the door. She was thrashing on the bed so violently, he was sure she would crack a rib, if she hadn't already. Rushing over and nearly tripping on the area rug next to the bed, he sat down and grabbed her shoulders to calm her but she bucked away, choking on her screams. Angel fought his tiny ex-lover as her fists beat against his chest, "LET ME GO! ANGEL! Please come back! I love you!"
He let go of her at her last words as if the syllables had pierced his skin. The sound her voice saying those three words, even while sleeping, punctured his soul. He wanted so much to believe that she meant it, but he knew that the only thing that loved him were memories and nightmares.
He remembered this dream, even though he hadn't experienced it himself. It was the reaction she had to the dreams in the beginning when she still was his, when he was still part human, part sane. She curled in a ball and scooted away, wincing from the pain in her side. She balled the blanket in her little hands and sobbed against the pillow. He watched for long moments as the tears rolled over her cheeks and splattered on the pillowcase.
"Angel," she cried, chest heaving in ragged breaths, "Don't leave me. I love you. I love you, Angel."
"Buffy," he finally whispered, reaching across the bed to wipe her tears away gently, even as his own welled in his eyes, "Wake up, love. It's a dream."
"Angel?"
"It was a dream," he whispered, "Just another bad dream."
"You left me," she said, shifting to move her head in his lap. She clutched the hand that smoothed over her shoulder so tightly it was painful and he relished the feeling of it. The pain was better than no warmth from her at all.
"I'll never leave you," he said, bending kissing her forehead, "Even if you never remember loving me, I'll stay."
She snuggled closer and he watched as she fell back into her slumber. He doubted she would remember this exchange in the morning, but he didn't care. She had said she loved him again and the voice was of the woman he loved, not of this new creature who wore her face.
***
//and i forget to move when my mouth is this dry
and my eyes are bursting hearts in a blood stained sky//
"Did Lindsey beat the shit out of you again before he let you go?" Angel asked, looking over Ford at his open doorway, "And what the hell are you doing here?"
"Here," Ford said, thrusting a small black pouch into Angel's hands, "It's the antidote."
"Antidote?" Angel asked blankly, opening the pouch to reveal a small vial and a syringe.
"Yes," Ford nodded, leaning heavily on the doorframe and wincing as he did, "She will never remember without it."
"Do you really think I'm that fucking stupid?" Angel demanded quietly, trying not to wake her, "For all I know this is the same thing you were giving her before. This could kill her!"
"It won't," Ford answered, "I'm in love with her. I wouldn't poison her."
"Right," Angel spat, "You're in love with her. That's why you've been screwing with her mind and pumping her with drugs. Remind again why I haven't killed you."
"Because you need me. Without me, she'll never remember," he said, taking a deep breath, "They lied to me. They told me the drug would make her forget you. I didn't know that this would happen. I would have never agreed to help them if I knew."
"Darla and Penn?" Angel asked.
"Yes."
"Do they know you took this?" Angel asked, narrowing his eyes, "Are they in on it?"
"No," he answered, "They're dead."
***
Part Eleven "Ghosts from the Past"
***
i leave you with photographs
pictures of trickery
stains on the carpet
and stains on the scenery
"Dead?" Angel echoed, numbly. He stepped aside and gestured for Ford to enter, "I want to hear the whole story."
"Did someone break in here or what?" Ford asked, stepping over broken objects and things scattered all over the floor.
"I'm sure you didn't come over here to criticize my housekeeping," Angel said as he sat down in his leather chair and waited for Ford to sit down before continuing, "How did Darla and Penn die?"
"After Lindsey dropped me off, I went back to my apartment to think about what to do next and...a friend stopped by."
"I know you're working with Jhiera," Angel said evenly, "And don't leave out any details."
"Okay," Ford said, after a moment of shocked silence, "Jhiera came by and I asked her to help me help Buffy. We knew the antidote was at Darla's house and we knew that she wouldn't just hand it over. So we went over and waited for her and Penn to go to bed-"
"Penn's sleeping with Darla?" Angel asked, and then quickly added, "Never mind. Doesn't matter. Keep going."
"Then we broke in," he said, taking a deep breath, "I bumped into a table and knocked a sculpture to the floor. It was one of yours, I think. Anyway, it broke and we hurried to get the antidote and get out but they woke up and came downstairs."
"Darla had a gun and," Ford said, lost in the memory, "I thought she was going to shoot us. I was sure I was going to die. She had this look in her eyes. It was almost happiness, like she was glad that I betrayed her or something. She told Penn to get some ropes and they tied us up. God, that bitch is evil."
"I know," Angel answered, narrowing his eyes at the thought of Darla. There weren't words to describe his hatred for her, "But how did they die? What happened?"
"Another woman showed up and demanded the antidote," he said, "She shot Penn when he tried to attack her and then Darla started shooting at her. They ran around the house, opening fire and someone called the police. Jhiera and I were trapped there, tied to chairs. The girl got away and I didn't know she killed Darla until the police came in."
"Who was she?" Angel asked, scooting forward and leaning his elbows on his knees as he listened intently.
"Buffy's sister," Ford stammered after a moment. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket when he realized they were shaking and looked back up at Angel.
"Buffy doesn't have a sister," Angel said slowly, "She died in a car accident with her mother."
"No," Ford said, "Faith's alive and she nearly beat the shit out of me tonight for the antidote. Believe me, she is alive. Very alive and pissed."
"Where is she now?" Angel demanded, "How did she get away?"
"She's in the hallway," Ford said as he nodded toward the door. Angel stood and hurriedly crossed the room, opening the door to find a beautiful young woman leaning casually against the wall. How she was Buffy's sister was beyond him. They were complete opposites.
"Faith?"
"That's me," she said, rising to her full height, "Mind if I come in?"
"Sure," Angel said, clearly confused as he watched her sashay into his apartment.
"I can see why she likes you," Faith said seductively, sizing Angel up before glancing over at Ford, "Much better than that piece of shit."
"How did you...I mean Buffy thinks..."
"Yeah," Faith nodded, "Buffy thinks I'm dead. Well, I'm not, cause check it out."
"How did you..." Angel repeated. He was shocked at both her appearance and her carriage. She carried herself like a predator, both lethal and frightening. Everything she did carried with it the fragrance of sex and death, a quality Angel hadn't seen in a person since his life on the streets. She took in her surroundings but was so nonchalant about it that the casual observer wouldn't think she even cared about where she was.
"Look," Faith said, plopping down in his leather chair, "I'll make this quick because I don't have a lot of time. After the car accident, I was offered an opportunity that I couldn't pass up, but I couldn't have contact with my family. Uncle Ripper knows I'm alive, but he's the only one. He called me when all this shit happened with B and I came home since you obviously were jacking things up. Sometimes you just need a woman to get things done. Now, did dumbass over there give you the antidote?"
"Yeah," Angel said, scrutinizing the dark haired girl, "But why should I trust you? You might not even be Faith."
"Have you seen pictures of me and my sister?"
"So?" Angel didn't care if she looked like the girl in the pictures. Hell, he didn't care if she was Buffy's identical twin. He was not going to trust anyone with her again. Ever.
"Call Giles if you don't believe me."
***
i went away alone
with nothing left
but faith
It was a long night. Angel called and talked to Giles, who confirmed Faith's identity with a little surprise that she actually revealed herself. Ford took the first opportunity to bolt. He looked as if he knew his days were numbered and couldn't wait to get away from Faith and Angel. As Ford made a beeline for the door, having done what he came to do, Angel stopped him, gathering a handful of his shirt and hauling him close.
"You touch her again, I'll fucking kill you," Angel snarled, "I don't care if I have to go to jail, the memory of watching the life drain from you will be enough to wile away the dull hours in jail."
"You'll have to get in line after Faith," Ford said, shivering slightly before twisting his way out of Angel's grasp and stumbling through the door.
As soon as Ford walked out, Angel was on the phone to Gunn, who confirmed that they would follow him. A call to Willow was also part of the evening's festivities. Willow, being the best friend that she is, crawled out of bed and met Angel to study the antidote. Faith stayed to watch over her sister as he waited for Willow to identify the fluid in the syringe. He felt bad for how abrupt he was with Willow. Especially considering she got up in the middle of the night to help him, but he didn't like the idea of leaving Buffy alone, even for a minute, even with her sister.
"So?" Faith said, when he came back into the apartment, "It's a go?"
"I guess," Angel said doubtfully, "Willow said that the compound isn't poison and isn't likely to hurt her. I guess it's worth trying."
"How long until it kicks in?"
"Ford didn't say," Angel said, "It took several hours for the other one to set in but she's been drugged so much, I don't know how long it'll take."
"Call Giles when it does," she said, moving toward the exit.
"Are you going to tell Buffy you were here?"
"Yeah," she said, appearing mildly irritated by the question, "Now that I blew it to you, I'm sure I don't have a choice. I know you'll tell her anyway. You're obviously one of those can't-keep-a-secret-from-my-fiancé types."
"What about your...uh...career?"
"Don't know," she said, "I'm going to try and salvage it. We'll have to see what my little trip away has done to it."
"What about the people you killed?" Angel asked, feeling slightly intimated by the girl, which was strange for him. Normally, no one made him feel uneasy but she possessed such a dangerous, sexual quality, it made him fidgety.
"No big deal," she shrugged, turning the doorknob, "They won't trace it back to me. They can't. I'm dead."
"Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"Why did you come back?"
"Buffy's the only thing on this planet I give a shit about," she said in an icy, murderous tone, "And no one fucks with my sister." And then she was gone.
***
i stop and kneel beside you
drained of everything but pain
Buffy woke up just as the sun was peaking into the windows, stretching through the bedroom like a curious cat. She rose with it and looked around expecting to find Angel there with her. When she didn't find him, tears sprang to her eyes. He did leave her. It wasn't a dream. She sat up quickly and grabbed her side, looking down in surprise at the pain she felt there. Carefully, she gathered the material of her shirt and pulled it aside to stare in confusion at the large bruise decorating her side. As she was inspecting her mysterious bruise, she noticed her engagement ring was missing.
She allowed the tears to fall as she stood. He really did leave her. She picked her way carefully through the cluttered apartment trying to remember what happened and coming up with nothing. Each step caused her more confusion. Did someone break in? Did Angel do this when he left? Did she? Their things were strewn all over the place, some broken and some just tossed aside. The living room was just as bad as the bedroom and Angel was nowhere to be seen.
"He left me," she said out loud, announcing her loss to the room as she lowered herself into his leather chair. She stared out the window for a moment as the shock set in before her body was racked with sobs. He had left all his paintings, all his things. He couldn't even stand to be around her long enough to take anything with him. She struggled to remember what happened as she wept. She hadn't actually slept with Ford, had she? All she could see in her mind's eye was Angel's face twisted in contempt and disgust as he walked away. She shuddered at the memory of opening her eyes to look into the eyes of her lover and finding Ford there instead of Angel. She rubbed her bare ring finger as her sobbing became more violent.
"Buffy?" Angel said as he appeared at the door between the studio and the living room.
She gasped in shock at the sight of him. He looked like he hadn't shaved, slept or showered in days. His hair was standing up in more disarray than usual and his eyes were red rimmed and blood shot. He didn't look at all surprised to see her crying. In fact, he looked as if he expected it.
"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, leaning heavily against the door, "Did you have another bad dream?"
"Angel," she whispered, staying in the chair as if she was afraid he would disappear if she moved, "A-are you leaving me?"
"Leaving you?" he asked numbly. His mind raced as his heart started to pound. It had only been a couple of hours. There was no way the drug could have kicked in already.
"My ring is missing," she explained, holding her left hand up for him to see, "My ring is missing and I woke up and you were gone-"
"Buffy," he said firmly, interrupting her. He stood there for a long moment and looked into her eyes, searching. Finally, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes before asking, "Do you love me?"
"I didn't do it," she whimpered, "Angel, I swear, I didn't."
"Buffy," he repeated, opening his eyes, but holding his breath, "Do. You. Love. Me."
"Yes," she gasped. He was shaking as he crossed the room and knelt before the chair. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her so that she was bending forward, looking directly in his eyes.
"Say it," he whispered, "Say the words."
"I love you, Angel," she answered, blinking in confusion, "I love you. Do you...do you still love me?"
"My whole life," he answered, "I've never loved anything else." Angel lowered his head to her lap and wept like a child. Sobs wracked through his large frame as he clung to her.
***
yesterday i got so scared
i shivered like a child
yesterday away from you
it froze me deep inside
It took hours to explain to Buffy what had happened in the space of time that she had lost. She was pretty sure that if someone other than Angel had been telling her this story, she wouldn't be willing to believe it. How could she possibly be missing a month of time? After an exhausting morning, he fell asleep holding her, clutching her against him with dear life.
She finally wiggled her way out of his embrace, kissed him gently and set about cleaning up the mess he'd made in the apartment. If their things strewn about the apartment weren't a sure sign on his sorrow, then the painting she came across in the studio certainly was. She sat down in the only chair in the room and pulled her knees to her chest as she stared at his work.
The canvas was a splattering of emotion, unlike any of his other paintings. The entire canvas was misery personified, swirling madness and choking despair and in the center was her face. She shuddered to look at herself. Her eyes were devoid of emotion and cold, so cold she was sure she had never had that expression. In the corner of the painting was a small speck that seemed to seep into the hysterical paint, leaking into the chaos. She stepped closer and got on her tiptoes to see if she could make it out. The bit of hope in the corner was the diamond from her engagement ring, so small she could barely make it out but emitting so much bright light that she could see it was killing the darkness.
She turned and headed back into the bedroom and looked down on him, still troubled even in his sleep. She sat down beside him and smoothed her hand over his brow. She sat there for a long time, looking down on the man she loved, trying to figure out how she would have lasted that month thinking he didn't love her anymore.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there before a knock sound and she quietly shut the bedroom door behind her as she went to answer the front door. When she opened it, her hand flew to her mouth in shock and she gasped, "Faith."
"Hey B," she replied gently, stepping an inch closer to her sister.
***
Part Twelve "Prodigal Sibling"
***
//sometimes you make me feel like i'm living on the edge of the world
like i'm living on the edge of the world//
She wasn't sure how long she sat there before a knock sound and she quietly shut the bedroom door behind her as she went to answer the front door. When she opened it, her hand flew to her mouth in shock and she gasped, "Faith."
"Hey B," she replied gently, stepping an inch closer to her sister.
"Y-you're dead," Buffy choked as her sister stepped inside the front door, which Buffy stilled held loosely between her fingertips as if it were proof that she wasn't imagining this. Her sister was there. She was standing there alive and breathing.
"No," Faith answered, shaking her dark head with regret, almost as if she wished she were. She pulled the door from Buffy and swung it closed, turning to face her ashen sibling.
"But...the accident," Buffy stammered, "They found your...your body."
"They found a body. Not mine." Faith waited, following Buffy to the couch and sank in next to her shaken sister.
"You've been alive all this time," Buffy asked, staring at her like she was sprouting a third eye in the center of her forehead, "and you didn't even care enough to tell me?"
"I couldn't tell you," Faith whispered back, shrinking under the hurt gaze of the only person alive who could reduce her to caring, "I love you, Buffy. You're my sister...but..."
"But what?" Buffy said, spitting out the words, "It seemed okay to leave me all alone? I was destroyed by losing the two closest people to me in the world! Where have you been?"
"It's a long story."
"I've got time," Buffy huffed, crossing her arms. Tears were shimmering in her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. She was torn between the traumatic loss of her sister and the anger she felt with her return. She wanted nothing more that to pull her into her arms and cry away the time she was gone, but not until she had the truth.
"I was offered a job," Faith started, staring at her hands for a moment before she got up to pace. She couldn't handle the hurt coming from the those hazel eyes. It was so much easier when Buffy thought she was dead. She knew Buffy could love the memory but the person was so much worse than what she remembered, "It was a once in a lifetime deal because the world had to think I was dead for it to work. They were there so quickly, I thought maybe they had planned the whole thing. Maybe they did. They pried me from the wreckage before the ambulance came and left another body in it's place. It was so...mangled, it could have been me."
"Where did they take you?"
"I don't know. They locked me in a room and nursed me back to health and for a long time I didn't know where I was or how to get home," she pleaded, dropping to her knees in front of her sister and grabbing her hands, "I wanted to come home, B. I tried. I fought and screamed, but they wouldn't let me. They told me Mom died and they told me about the job. After awhile, I knew I couldn't come home even if I wanted to."
"Why not?" Buffy asked gently, "I would have been here for you."
"Because of what I do," Faith answered, yanking her hands away from Buffy's.
"W-what do you do?"
"I can't tell you."
Buffy stared at her and stiffened. Couldn't tell her? Faith always told her everything, especially when she didn't want to know. The possibilities of her sister's new job sent chills running up and down her spine, "Why did you come back?"
"Because I found out you were being drugged," Faith explained angrily, "And I couldn't stand the idea of someone hurting you. So, I came back. I got the antidote and made Ford give it to Angel."
A moment of shocked silence followed, until Buffy asked quietly, "Are you going back?"
"I don't know. It depends..."
"On what?"
"On you," Faith whispered, her face twisting into tearful sorrow, "If you can f-forgive me, then maybe I don't have to go back. Maybe I can stay...with you."
"Of course I forgive you," Buffy said, pulling herself to her feet and crossing the room to pull her crumbling sibling into her arms, "You know I'll always forgive you."
With Buffy's arms around her, she was finally able to let go of all the anguish she had carried around with her since she left. As she sobbed in the safety of her sister's arms, she could almost forget all those horrible things she had done. Buffy always brought peace to her tumultuous life. Faith was always the tough one, the bitch, the easy one. She wouldn't let anyone reduce her to emotions, but Buffy, with all her patience and sweetness could bring that humanity out. She could reduce Faith to those emotions with just a glace of disapproval.
Buffy held her for a long time, rubbing her back as she unleashed, shedding silent tears with her. Finally, they lowered themselves to the floor as Faith wiped her eyes. She looked up and shrugged in traditional Faith fashion, as if to ask what's next.
"Well, I'm still going to be pissed off at you," Buffy said, drawing her knees to her chest, "And eventually, I want to hear everything."
"Buffy, I don't think I can ever tell you some things."
"You'll tell me," Buffy said, flashing her sister a confident, mocking smile, "Someday, you'll tell me."
"Whatever," Faith said, rolling her eyes even as breathed a sigh of relief and scrambled to her feet. Buffy forgave her and she could give a damn about everything else. The whole world could go fuck itself as far as she was concerned.
"Are you better now?" Buffy asked, looking over her carefully, as she climbed to he feet as well.
"You know me, B," Faith piped, putting back on her usual attitude as wiped her tears away, "I'm five by five."
"There's the bitch I know," Buffy said, laughing.
***
//remembering you falling into my arms
crying for the death of your heart
you were stone white//
Angel woke up feeling like hell. His head was pounding from drinking enough the night before to take out a small community and his whole body ached. He turned over and looked at the spot in bed where Buffy used to sleep and groaned before heading to the shower. Maybe he had imagined the night before with Ford, Faith and Buffy. He stumbled to the shower and promised himself that when he walked out of the bedroom to find her that he wouldn't be destroyed when she still didn't remember. He rubbed the ring hanging from the chain around his neck before stepping into the warm spray.
Once he had dried off and shaved, he stepped into a pair of jeans and forced himself to smile as he buttoned them. They were worn and old, but he'd kept them because they were Buffy's favorite for some strange reason. He heard music coming from the living room and shook his head to clear the emotion from it. He wouldn't believe she was back until he saw her. He couldn't get his hopes up only to have them shattered under her little, perfect feet.
He stopped in the center of the living room and stared incredulously as Buffy and Faith sat on the couch together. They were laughing and not just little giggles, but loud, stomach grabbing guffaws. Tears were streaming from Buffy's eyes as she forced words out of her mouth, "And then you went up to him at the dance..."
"And told him," Faith said, falling back on the couch, "in front of his date that the disease would...."
Angel watched, missing the rest of the memory as Faith and Buffy both lost themselves in laughter. A smile tugged at him until he almost started laughing with them. It was the cutest thing he had ever seen and for the first time, he had an idea that Faith may actually be a human being with emotions. He leaned against the doorway, watching their laughter die down and disappear into the thumping beat coming from the stereo.
Realizing he wasn't wearing a shirt, he started back into the bedroom when he heard her voice, "Angel!" He turned back around and faced her, shoving his hands in his pockets. She balanced on her tiptoes to give him a kiss and he leaned down into it. She smoothed her hands on his sides and then tugged him further into the room, oblivious to his bare chest.
"I was just going to put a shirt," Angel whispered against her neck.
"I wanted you to see my sister! You've met her already, right?" Buffy asked, nodding at the girl, who was now nervously standing next to the couch.
"Yeah," he answered, "Hello Faith."
"Hey," she said quickly. She pleaded with him with her eyes and he immediately knew that she had not told Buffy about Darla and Penn. Quickly, he made a decision and smiled carefully at her, hoping she caught the look in his eyes. There was no way he was going to tell the happy golden girl by his side that her sister was a murderer.
"You guys are so serious," Buffy chided, "Fine. Go put on a shirt, Mr.-I-Have-To-Be-A-Gentleman. She's family, you know."
"I know, love," he answered, leaning in to kiss her again, "I'll be right back."
Buffy watched him walk back to the bedroom for a second and then turned back to Faith, "I'll be right back, ‘kay?"
"Sure."
"Don't leave," Buffy warned.
"I won't."
***
//perfect moments wait
if only we could stay
please say the right words//
"Hey," Buffy said, coming up behind him from where he stood staring into the closet and wrapped her arms around his waist. She kissed his back and he turned in her arms, looking down into eyes that reflected love and happiness, something he never thought he'd see again. He was overjoyed, but it was so difficult that she didn't remember anything. She had no idea what he'd gone through while she was gone and she probably never would.
"Hey," he echoed, kissing the tip of her nose, "How are you doing today?"
"I'm great," she said, "Better than great, actually, but you're still upset."
"It's okay," he answered, slipping out of her arms and pulling a shirt from the closet, "I'll get over it. I'm just happy to have you back."
Before he knew it, he was being dragged over to the bed and pushed down. He sat obediently and she climbed into his lap, holding his gaze, "I know we have a lot to talk about, but my sister is here and I can't not spend time with her right now. She needs me and I need her. I'm sorry."
"That's okay," he said, feeling redundant today, "I can wait."
"I love you, Angel," she said, kissing him gently.
"Do you?" he asked, seeing it in her eyes but still unable to accept it. He was terrified that any moment he would wake up and she'd be gone.
"Yes," she said, "I love you. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with you and only you. Okay?"
"Tell me again," he requested quietly, staring into her eyes.
"I love you, Angel."
"I love you, too, baby," he groaned, lowering his head to the crook of her neck and tightening his arms around her, "I thought I lost you forever. I didn't know how I was going to live without you."
"You don't have to," she whispered, "I'm here. Forever. I love you. I promise."
She snaked a hand between them and gathered his necklace gently in her hand. He raised his head and looked down at the ring she held, "Do I get this back?"
His hands were shaking as he pulled the chain over his head, released the clasp and pulled the chain out, allowing the ring to fall into the palm of her hand. She handed to him and he took it reluctantly, looking up at her with momentary confusion. She held out her left hand and realizing what she wanted, he slipped it back on her finger. He was trembling violently as he did it - even worse than the first time. He felt like crushing her to him and never letting her go again.
"I love you," she repeated, taking his face into her hands and looking into his eyes, "I love you."
"I love you too," he answered finally, "More than you will ever know."
"I think I have an idea," she teased, kissing him gently and then deepening the kiss. Finally, she broke it off, breathless, "But my sister's gonna accuse me of screwing you in here if I don't get out there soon."
"Well, if that's what she's going to think anyway..." Angel said, as he slipped his hands to her bottom.
"Angel!" she said, hopping out his lap, "Tell you what, my sister gets today and you get tonight. Meet us at the club at around ten?"
***
//it doesn't matter what you do
i know i'll never really get inside of you
to make your eyes catch fire they way they should//
Slinking her way through Ford's house, Jhiera found him in the den, staring out the window, loosely holding a bottle of beer in his hand that had warmed long before. She perched on the arm of his chair and looked down at him. Disgust twisted over her face as she eyed the shell of the man before her, compared to who he had been when he came into town.
"Leave me alone," he said, taking a swig of the ale and then sputtering over the taste. He set the bottle down on the table next to him and rose to his feet, swaying his way toward the kitchen.
"No, I think I'll stay for awhile," she answered, taking her time as she followed him. She watched as he opened the refrigerator and ducked in to fish out another bottle. He twisted off the cap and tossed it into the kitchen sink, which held a family of similar caps. He took a drink while he still stood at the open door, not bothering to glance in her direction.
"Why are you here?" he asked angrily, kicking the door shut and lowering himself into one of six kitchen chairs. He leaned on the wooden table and finally looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, "Can't you leave me the fuck alone? We lost."
"No," she said, sitting in the chair adjacent to his, "You lost. I'm still in the running."
"Are you out of your mind?" he demanded, "Get out!"
"No," she said, shaking her head, "You promised you would do anything for me if I helped you. Since I got tied up and nearly shot to death, I'd say that the bargain is sealed, wouldn't you?"
"No way." He shook his head drunkenly and looked up to see the anger on her face, just as he suspected, "Faith will kill me. She'll kill you. She'll kill your fucking mother. The hell with you. You can't make me help."
"Fine," she said, rising to her feet and heading swiftly out of the room, "I'll kill Buffy and tell Faith it was you. That should solve all my problems, tie up all the loose ends and then Angel will need some serious comforting. Why didn't I think of that before?"
"Wait!" he shouted, chasing through the house after her. He caught her at the front door and grabbed her by the shoulders, "You will not hurt Buffy!"
"Then help me," she offered sweetly, "And your precious princess will be safe."
"You're a horrible bitch," he said, sagging in defeat and following her back into the house.
***
Part Thirteen "The Slayers"
***
//with the lights and the lies in my eyes and the color
and the music's too loud
and my head's all the wrong size
so here i go
here i go again//
Angel was not having a bad day. He was happy. He was thrilled, in point of fact, that he had his precious lover back. The fact that they hadn't actually consummated their relationship was not the point. She loved him. She was again wearing her engagement ring and he was filled with a sort of happy anxiety that he couldn't put a finger on.
Waiting until ten o'clock, however, to meet her at the club was an issue currently plaguing him. He spent the first part of the day painting and then finally gave up after realizing that every depiction he started to created had his lover in it...nude...in wonderfully compromising positions. He cleaned up and took a cold shower before forcing his mind in another direction. Picking up the phone, he called Lindsey, explaining the situation and the success of recent events. He had made sure to emphasize that Buffy was again *his* before hanging up the phone.
His second call was to Willow, to thank her for her scientific efforts the night before and to invite to her and everyone to Buffy's impromptu party at the club. He wanted her all to himself but he knew that he would have to wait a little longer. All of her friends and family were concerned and would be until they were able to look into her eyes and see that she was herself again. So, he asked her to call everyone and have them meet at the club. Buffy would be happy to dance her blues away with her friends around her.
And he would the supportive fiancé-type, until he could get her to himself.
That idea was a good one and would have worked out perfectly well if he hadn't ever actually stepped foot in the club. He waited the agonizing hours until ten and stalled enough so that he didn't walk through the doors until ten on the dot. Winding his way through the gyrating throng of people, he spotted her friends scattered around - Willow, Xander, Doyle, Cordelia - Hell, even Giles showed up.
He stopped next to where they were talking excitedly and scanned the crowd until he found her. She wasn't hard to spot. She was in the center of the dance floor with one arm raised in the air, fingers intertwined with her sister's. They were both in black leather pants and tiny tank tops that allowed ample cleavage visible to the swarm of men who surrounded them.
Angel clenched his jaw as he watched, unable to tear his eyes from anything but the sight of his fiancé inside that center of hormones. There was a twist to her tiny waist that made him immediately hard and furiously jealous at the same time. She was beautiful, desirable and dancing in such a way that made him think that she was available for the taking. He fought the urge to storm in and pull her from the vicinity of the undulating hips of the horny men around her.
He was breathing deeply and concentrating on not losing his temper when he heard a voice beside him, "This is something I thought I'd never see again."
"What?" Angel growled, looking over at Xander in frustration. If anything was *not* going to help this situation, it was the comments of Xander Harris.
"Buffy and Faith," he said, nodding in their direction, "Dancing together like that. We used to call them ‘The Slayers' in High School."
"Why?" Angel asked, indulging the boy.
"Because any man who dared get involved with them was slain. They were notorious for destroying men all over campus."
"This should be interesting," Angel grumbled under his breath, while keeping his focus on the tiny blonde goddess that was currently crushing his heart. Speaking louder, he added, "Destroying men? My Buffy?"
"See how Faith grinds into the poor schmucks and Buffy slips away?" Xander pointed out, not looking at Angel. Both men couldn't tear their eyes from the nearly obscene display, "Most people make the mistake of thinking that Faith was touchable just because she'd allow those guys in her pants and Buffy was the untouchable one because she wouldn't. They had it all backwards. Poor bastards."
"Explain," Angel demanded, trying to soften his reaction, but failing miserably.
"Faith would sleep with them, but they could never touch her. None of them...not even me."
Angel jerked over to look at Xander and even though the boy didn't meet his eyes, he knew that Faith had used him and tossed him aside. He waited for him to continue and finally he did, "No one could ever touch Buffy physically...until you. She wouldn't allow anyone to feel her skin, but her soul was always available. She would give in emotion as freely as Faith gave in the flesh. What ended up happening was a lot of frustrated guys. And so Buffy and Faith protected each other. I once saw Faith break some guy's nose for stalking Buffy at school."
Xander snuck a peek at Angel to see if the story helped, but he could see it hadn't. All that eloquence was rare in him and now wasted on someone who could only see the movements of her petite body.
"Don't worry, Angel," Xander added, after a thoughtful moment, "She loves you. No one could ever touch her. No matter how try."
"You were in love with her," Angel said finally, prying his eyes from Buffy and looking down on Harris' face again. He was surprised he never figured it out before. The guy was so goofy, and involved with Willow, that after he met him, he knew that Buffy would never go for a guy like him. It never occurred to him what Xander might have felt but now it made perfect sense.
"For a long time," Xander answered, moving toward Willow, "But she never loved me back. Not like that anyway."
Angel watched briefly as Xander curled his arm around Willow's waist and jumped in the current conversation, taking on his usual nonsensical self without a thought to the conversation he had just left. It was just as well. Angel hadn't yearned for a heart to heart with him but he was glad that he had shared that piece of the past with him because the thought of someone else touching his lover sent him into a whirlwind of panic and green eyed jealousy of the lethal kind. In fact, he was still having thoughts of going after Ford.
"My God," Lindsey said, shucking off his jean jacket and tossing over his arm, "*That's* Buffy's sister?"
"Yeah," Angel said, not gracing him with a glance, although he knew what he would see if he did. McDonald's countenance would reflect the rest of the men in the room. He could almost see him swallowing and shifting from foot to foot as he watched the two beauties move to the music, "You just get here?"
"Yeah," Lindsey echoed, "And apparently just in time to see...Jesus, she's fucking hot."
Angel smiled for the first time since Buffy left him that morning. The idea of Lindsey going after Faith almost made him want to dance. Going after Faith, meant leaving Buffy alone and leaving Buffy alone was good for their friendship and fantastic for Lindsey's health.
***
//how you move
the way you burst the clouds
it makes me want to try
when i see you sticky as lips as licky as trips
i can't lick that far
but when you pout
the way you shout out loud
it makes me want to start
and when i see you happy
as a girl that swims in a works of magic show
it makes me bite my fingers through
to think i could've let you go//
Spike looked up just as Drusilla swayed her way into his pub like she was making a grand entrance to a ball. He loved that she never wore blue jeans or casual clothing, that she made everything an event. She made him feel as if he had risen to a higher level of being. She seemed untouched by the drunken people there. In fact, she looked as if she failed to notice their presence altogether. She latched onto him with those dark eyes and a hint of a smile played on her blood red lips as she moved towards him.
"Be back," Spike muttered to the man he was speaking to, cutting him off in mid-sentence. He had been irritated that all of his friends had gone to the club down the street to see Buffy and her sister rather than coming here. Even Doyle had asked for the night off to escort Cordy and he was stuck with his backup bartender. He certain that jerk was skimming the till. He was just waiting for his moment to catch the fucker and then he would toss him out on his bloody rump.
All of that was forgotten as Dru floated in, wearing a antique white lace dress as if she had stepped out of an old painting. She rarely came to the pub, so immediately he thought there was a problem and hurried to her side. He didn't care if he looked like a pussy whipped Nancy Boy. He had better things to worry about than appearing to be just as bad as Peaches.
"Dru," he said, the one syllable word coming out throaty, even though he didn't mean it to, "What're you doing here, pet? Thought we were meeting later."
"Dance with me, Spike?" she whispered, pecking his lips and wearing a dizzying smile that he couldn't say no to. His bar was playing music and there was a dance floor but the idea of waltzing there with her was the furthest from his dream of how to embarrass himself in front of his patrons. He couldn't refuse her, however, so he led her to the furthest corner of the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.
She rested her head on his shoulder, smelling of jasmine and feeling like crushed velvet. He smoothed his hand over her hair and relished in feel of her body pressed against his. If he lived to be a thousand, no woman would ever effect him like she did. It never crossed his mind to do anything but worship her and indulge her every wish. His dark queen shivered in his arms and snuggled closer to him, moving not with the music playing but with a rhythm inside her own mind. "What is it, pet?" he whispered, kissing the crown of her beautiful head, "What's the matter?"
"It's dark," she whispered, puffing her sweet breath on his neck.
"It's night, love," he explained, feeling the eyes of his patrons on her as they danced. She was a vision of light swathed in darkness. She drew them all to her and then shed them off just as quickly. Her disdain for other men was a force they could not ignore. She wanted only Spike.
"My Angel," she whispered, "He thinks it's day but it's still night. The bad girl waits around the corner. She waits for a time to strike."
"What bad girl?" he asked, keeping his voice low and soothing.
"The ex," she said, "Jhiera...Take me home, Spike?"
"Course, ducks," he said, kissing her forehead before taking her hand and leading her to the bar, intent on telling his bartender to lock up. Drusilla began laughing uncontrollably at the sight of him and Spike turned to look at her, irritated and enamored with her insanity, "What?"
"Thief," she snickered, pointing at the bartender, "His pockets are full."
"I bloody KNEW it," he screamed, "You're fucking fired!"
"What?" the man asked, blinking in faux confusion at his employer, "What are you talking about?"
"You're skimming the bloody till, you wanker! Now get the hell out before I find a group of blokes to beat my money outta your arse!"
"You're going to believe that crazy bitch over-"
Spike's fist crushed into the bartender's angry face and he punched again as the crowd whooped around him. Grabbing his shirt, he hauled the now bloody employee over the counter and tossed him to the floor. Lowering to one knee, he growled down at the man, "Ever talk about my girl like that again, I'll fucking kill you."
***
//you leave me breathing like the drowning man
breathing like the drowning man//
Angel turned away from the display his lover and her sister were making on the dance floor. If he had to watch for one more moment, he wasn't certain he would be able to control himself. Every time some hard-on with legs moved near her, he felt the urge to rip out the guy's spinal cord and show it to him. Even though she slipped away with a little smile, he knew it was just a matter of time before one of them touched her and then he knew he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.
//i'm the waiting beast
i'm the twisted nerve//
As he turned, he saw her duck out of the circle and weave through the dancers to get to him. He waited, his face screwed into a scowl that even the beautiful sight of her approach couldn't chase away. Buffy hopped up without warning and wrapped her toned legs around his waist. Her skin was hot and adorned with a thin sheet of sweat form her exertions. She pressed against him, feeling his oncoming arousal.
"Hey! You're not leaving, are you?" She asked with a confident, irresistably sexy smile, inches from his lips. He wanted to kiss her, attack her mouth and claim her for everyone to see and at the same time he wanted to growl his objections to what he had just seen.
"I saw you making friends," he bit out, casting an annoyed look at the men who now freely tightened the circle around her sister.
Buffy glanced casually over her shoulder, as if she had already forgotten what he was referring to, "Them? Boys. I like you."
Angel met her cheery gaze with an unamused glare. He didn't find this remotely comical. Buffy tightened her legs around him, pressing her heat against him suggestively, "I love *you.*"
She hopped down as she saw that his unforgiving ice was refusing to melt. She nipped at his neck and licked the tiny wound before repeating the process. In moments, he had almost forgotten the dance entirely. He threaded his fingers through her slightly damp tangle of hair and bent down to slant his mouth against hers, placing a possessive and brutal kiss there. He delved into her mouth and she returned the kiss, tasting of warm vanilla sugar and adrenaline.
"I love you," she whispered again, licking his lips as she pressed against him. After a few moments, she huskily added, "I think you should take me home."
"Home?" he echoed in confusion, "Your friends and your sister are-"
"Going to be just fine without me. I said tonight is for you," she said, sliding a tiny hand over his chest, "and I meant it."
"I don't want to tear you away from them," he answered, struggling to remain focused as she mashed her body against his, "I know they've all missed you, love."
"I want to be alone with you," she answered, threading her fingers through his hair, "I feel like you haven't touched me in so long."
"I haven't," he answered, meeting her gaze with equal lust. A slow smile spread across her lips as she kissed him again and then said, "Just let me tell them all goodbye and you can take me home, kay?"
He nodded as she moved away, joining her circle of friends. He watched as she worked them, jumping in the conversation for a moment and making them all feel loved and needed. She wrapped an arm around Giles and hugged him as she talked to everyone. After a few quick minutes, she had said her goodbyes without anyone looking upset or in the least bit slighted. He smiled proudly at her. She was a wizard with her family.
He watched as she wound her way back onto the dance floor, keeping his eyes trained on her firm, leather encased ass in spite of his efforts not to. She whispered into Faith's ear and the wicked smile at spread over her sister's red lips told him that she had told her the truth. She was going home to sleep with her slighted fiancé. Faith looked up and met his eyes, grinning a knowing grin. He looked back casually as if he had no idea why she was smiling, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. Angel didn't care if the whole club knew what was going to happen next.
***
Part Fourteen "You Belong To Me"
******
//i've never been so colorfully-see-through-head before
i've never been so wonderfully-me-you-want-some-more
and all i want is to keep it like this
you and me alone
a secret kiss
and don't go home
don't go away
don't let this end
please stay
not just for today
never, never, never, never, never let me go//
Buffy jumped in the shower when they got home and when she came back out, Angel had changed out of those wonderful leather pants and was lounging on the couch, reading a book. She was certain it was chalked full of fun words to know and say like "thee" and "thou." But she didn't care.
He was so beautiful. So large, lean and hard all over. She took a moment to take in his deliciously broad shoulders, muscular chest and lean, rippled stomach. His long legs were stretched out on the coffee table, crossed at the ankle as he read, pretending to be relaxed. She wondered if he was actually reading and knew that he probably wasn't as he set the book aside to look up at her.
She shuddered to think of the time that she supposedly went without him. The look in his eyes was still fearful and desperate as if he thought she would disappear. She moved toward him, wearing a little black silk neglige that he had given her as a surprise gift one evening a long time before. Stopping before him, she held out her hand and he took it, pulling himself to his feet. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him toward her, reaching for a kiss. His answer was longing and needy, sucking at her mouth with fierce claiming.
"I'm yours," she whispered, regretting her dance with Faith earlier. She should have known that her little dance with her sister would upset him, but she hadn't really stopped to think about it. It was tradition and her sister always brought out that tiny piece of wild child in her.
"You're mine," he echoed with uncertainty. He wanted to go back a couple of months to the time when he knew she was his and would not hesitate to shout it from the rooftops. He looked over her with equal lust and need as she pulled his hand to her chest, placing his fingertips over her heart. It was pounding inside her chest, drumming steadily there with excitement.
She covered his hand with hers and looked up into those brooding chocolate eyes for a moment before speaking, "You're the only one who makes my heart pound like this. It's only for you. No one else has ever touched me the way that you do. No one ever will. I love you, Angel. I know that some...things happened and I wish that I could remember so I could explain this better, but I know that during that time I didn't let anyone touch me. I know it because my whole life, I've waited for you."
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her against him, "I love you, Buffy. God, I love you so much."
//i love it
i mean you
my face was in your hands
you looked into my eyes
you said i tasted right
and swallowed me alive//
She pulled him toward the bedroom where she had lit a dozen candles around the room. He stood there and looked around for a moment before shedding his boxers and turning to her, gloriously nude and beautiful. She could see that she was going to have to take steps to bring her lover back. He obviously wanted her, but that wasn't enough. She wanted him to believe in himself again. She urged him to the bed and then went to her top dresser drawer and drew out two black silk scarves.
She tied him up expertly, having learned from him how to knot the silk so that it wouldn't slip free or be easily escapable. Still wearing her neglige, she perched on his stomach, announcing that she wore nothing underneath when her moist core came in contact with his skin. He moaned and she knew without looking that his cock was hard and throbbing behind her. She bent and lightly kissed him. He pressed up, wanting more, but she pulled away, only teasing him. Instead, she rubbed against his tight stomach, loving the feel of his skin against hers.
"I'm so wet," she whispered, dipping a finger between her thighs and pushing it inside her silky depths. Seconds later, she pressed that finger against his lips, which he eagerly sucked, lapping her honey from it.
"Please Buffy," he begged, "Let me touch you."
"No," she answered, shaking her blonde head with emphasis, "If you don't believe I'm yours, then why should you be allowed to touch me?"
"Buffy," he groaned, "You're mine. I get it. Now please, untie me, baby."
"Nope," she said. He was silenced as her fingers gathered the edge of her neglige and pulled it off of her flushed and golden body, revealing inch by inch of naked flesh. He arched against her, aching beneath her to be touched as her breasts bounced free and the silk garment was tossed away.
"Do you think anyone else has ever seen me like this?" she asked, sliding her hands up from her stomach to her breasts. She cupped them in her hands, smoothing over them and pinching her own nipples as he watched, licking his lips, "Do you think anyone else has ever touched my bare breasts but you?"
"No," he forced out, trying to tear his eyes from her beautiful breasts, but failing.
"No," she whispered, lowering her right breast to his mouth. He sucked the pebbled nipple between his lips and swirled his tongue around it hungrily. He lifted his head to suck her harder into his mouth but she pulled away and he growled in protest until she moved her other breast within his reach. He responded immediately, taking in a mouthful of soft flesh. She moaned in pleasure but pulled away again and he gritted his teeth, fuming from her teasing.
"How'd that taste, lover?" she whispered, sliding off of his chest and finally focusing her attention on his hard, straining cock.
"Perfect," he murmured as she licked the weeping tip of his cock, "Like honey."
"Mmm, yes," she whispered as she wrapped her lips around him, sucking just the swollen head of his cock, "Perfect."
"Please," he whimpered, arching up despite his efforts not to.
"Please, what?" she asked, squeezing the base of his cock in her tiny hand and kissing the underside of his length. Her words puffed tiny breaths of warm air on him, causing him to strain against his bindings.
"Untie me," he groaned, tensing every muscle in his body as she caressed and kissed.
"Uh-uh," she whispered, lashing her tongue out again and again, her senses flooding with his smell and taste, "Try again, baby."
"Suck," he begged, "Please."
"Like this?" she asked, smiling before she took him into her mouth, lowering just an inch, then two before stopping.
"All the way," he groaned, suddenly hating fucking silk scarves. At that moment, he would have given anything to touch her, to pull her tiny body up his and flip them so that he could bury himself inside her heat. He wanted to fuck the life out of her until she was bruised and screaming.
"I don't know if I should," she said, lapping at the tip like a kitten at a bowl of milk, "If I don't belong to you, then that's a little too intimate for me. Don't you think?"
"Godamn it, Buffy! You're mine," he growled, "Untie me. I want to be inside you."
"You're so sexy when you're irritated," she said, nipping at his hip bone before returning to his throbbing erection, "It just makes me wetter. I'm practically dripping for you, baby."
"Then let me in," he demanded, pulling at the scarves violently, knowing he was going regret it tomorrow when he had marks on his wrists. Right then, however, he didn't care. He just wanted her. He couldn't wait to feel her pussy hovering at the tip of his cock and sliding inside her, feeling her inner muscles shift to accommodate him.
"Why?" she whispered, still teasing him mercilessly. Her voice was innocently carnal as she spoke, "Why should I? Maybe I should just slip my hand between my thighs and please myself. Wanna watch, Angel?"
"No," he roared, "Fuck me, Buffy. Untie me and I'll fuck you. Please. Let me love you."
Moving forward, she straddled his waist and instead of settling on his cock, she pressed against his stomach once more, showing she was in control. She slipped a hand between her thighs and rubbed her clit slowly, forcing him to watch. He trembled with want and ultimate frustration as he watched her fingers slide over her cleft and inside. Her last words were almost a whisper as she said, "Do you think I should let someone else touch me?"
She squealed in surprise as she heard the material rip and his hands shot free of their binding. Seconds later she was on her back, legs spread with Angel inside her, slamming in her dripping core. She bucked against him as he pounded at her core, their bodies slapping as they screwed.
"You are mine," he growled, in an explosion of need and anger, "MINE."
"Yes," she gasped as he nearly cracked her pelvis with the force of the mating. She reared back against him, drilling him inside her harder, deeper.
"MINE," he reinforced, biting at her neck as he reached between her thighs and began twisting her sensitive nub between his fingers.
"Mine," she echoed as she came. He watched as her face contorted in pleasure and she fluttered around him in ecstasy. A few seconds later, he followed and then collapsed on his tiny lover, breathing so hard his entire body heaved.
He rolled over on his back and took her with him, resting her light weight easily on his chest. He was catching his breath as she reached up and toyed with one of the ruined scarves, rubbing it between her fingers.
"That was mean," he said, quirking a smile with his words.
"But it worked," she said grinning and then grew serious, "I needed you to understand. No one has ever had me the way that you have and no one ever will. We belong to each other."
"Mates," he said, kissing her damp forehead, "My mate."
"In every sense," she whispered, kissing his chest as she felt him stir beneath her. She cocked an eyebrow and looked up at him, "Not done yet?"
"Not even remotely," he answered. Slipping his hands under her arms, he pulled her up onto his chest and then moved his hands to her hips. Seconds later she was straddling his head. He pulled her down to his lips and lapped one sinuous lick from back to front, opening her pearled core to his lips, tongue and teeth. As he sucked her clit between his lips, she released a shuddered moan and grabbed the headboard to keep from pressing down harder and smothering him.
"Angel," she panted, as he sucked her harder, biting at her swollen flesh and then lapping it with his tongue. Mere moments were required before she came, writhing above him until he grabbed her hips and held her still. She shook and twisted as he drank down the honey that flowed free from his lover.
Her sex made a sticky trail down his chest and stomach as he positioned her over his shaft. She guided him in and sank down on him, hissing in pleasure as she did. He reached up and caressed her perfect breasts as she braced her hands on his chest and rode him, moving all the way up before falling back down.
"So good," she murmured as he twisted her nipples between his fingers, "Missed you."
"I missed you," he rumbled in a low, sensual voice as she moved in tantalizingly slow thrusts, "More than you will ever know."
***
//i love you more than i can say//
Hours later they laid wound around each other in a bundle of limbs, still breathing heavily. Buffy's head rested on his chest and he kept his hands roving over her, unable to stop touching the miracle that had been returned to him. She traced circles on his abdomen as she caught her breath, feeling love ebb through her, swelling more every second.
"Promise me," she whispered.
"I promise," he choked, stopping his travel over her to grip her tightly.
"Promise me again," she whispered, "I want forever."
"It's yours, Buffy," he answered, "It's always been yours."
***
TBC...
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