She wanted him to touch her. Needed it so powerfully she almost cried out when he faded back into the shadows. For a long moment, she simply stood there, reminding herself that she should be grateful he hadn't attacked, hadn't forced her to stake him. But all she could do was whimper in regret that he hadn't touched her. It was as well he hadn't, the logical side of her mind told her as her passions faded. Had he done so, he'd have no need for brute force. He'd know her secret. That all he had to do was whisper to her in that husky, primal voice of his. Just step closer so she could smell him. Glide his hand over her skin and the stake she now held would have fallen from trembling fingers. Buffy whimpered again, letting her head fall forward.
"Angel..." she whispered longingly. Not the demon, Angelus; the body he shared with her lover, Angel. That was what she wanted. She supposed she should be grateful that each time they met, her rage over his atrocious actions overwhelmed this hunger she felt for him.
But one day... Buffy knew it. He'd find out one day. And then all her dreams and nightmares would come true.

Buffy.... The word whispered from the shadows but only she heard it. It was her name, after all. The others - Willow, Xander, Cordy - kept on walking down the alley away from the Bronze, innocent of the summons. Buffy paused, glancing around.
"Buffy?" Xander called, as always the one to notice her hesitation.

...Almost time...
"Buffy?" Willow asked, but the Slayer had identified the voice that whispered huskily from the shadows. The owner moved in the darkness, stepping forth into sight.

"Angel..." Buffy mouthed, making no sound but her fixed gaze and expression was enough to alert her friends. Cordy shrieked and Xander stepped protectively in front of all of them. Buffy instinctively side-stepped him, moving to the front, unable to let her friend's body occlude those hypnotic dark eyes of her ex-lover.
Angel stepped closer. His entire attention was focussed solely on Buffy and when Xander made some sarcastic comment, Angelus just ignored the foolish attempt at bravado.
Buffy stood there, her eyes frozen, her face a mask of ice, even as her body felt as though it were melting beneath the fire of Angel's gaze.
"Almost time," he whispered again, stepping towards her. By now, Xander and the others were aware this wasn't a standard Buffy/Angelus meeting. Neither had yet thrown any punches.
Buffy felt her insides tremble but was outwardly as strong as ever. She had her hands on her hips, close to the stake tucked into the back of her skirt. She felt like a bird caught in a snake's gaze, but she was damned if she'd show it. In all their meetings, she hadn't yet.

He took another silent step and his scent reached out to ensnare her. Her nostrils flared in reaction to that intoxicating stimulation.
"Time for what?" she inquired, grateful her voice was level.
Another step and he was inside her personal space, almost touching her, their bodies inches apart. He towered over her - he always had - his body inclining down towards hers. She almost whimpered as his leg brushed hers. It was more difficult now than ever before - he hadn't done anything horrible yet. She wanted him to touch her. Needed it so damned much -

"Time to die," he purred in her ear, no breath caressing her skin as a mortal's would. But it was enough. Even the fatalistic promise he offered couldn't erase the sensuality of his tone, of his voice. Her skin tingled with remembered, longed-for caresses. His hand was so close to her hip. The presence of the others had faded away, this meeting occluding their existance.
Buffy wondered what was going on. He didn't know yet, she was sure. This warning must be designed solely to rattle her. But why?

"Are you ready, lover?"

Buffy gasped as her body quaked in reaction to that single word, a word that evoked memories of passion and heat and hunger. Her arousal increased, she felt alight with heat and fire. Her nipples pressed sharply against the thin material of her shirt, hard and aching. Buffy mentally cursed the effect he had on her. Had he noticed?

Of course he had. His black-as-hell eyes dropped away from her face and he stared at her shirt, frozen. Buffy had time to feel smug over the fact that he was so aware of her body, even as she lifted her chin and glared at him defiantly.

"Cold, Buffy?" he demanded in his soft purr. His hand reached up to grab her arm and Buffy shuddered beneath that longed-for touch. Please, she begged silently, let him think it was a shudder of disgust. But her body knew it wasn't and her stance emphasized her reaction. Her hands on her hips pulled the shirt taut across her chest, her nipples standing out sharply against the thin material.

Angel stared down at his prey, astonished. Erect nipples, flushed cheeks, heavier than normal breathing. His eyes narrowed in disbelief. Surely not? The Slayer still wanted him? Oh, this was perfect! Angelus concealed his delight at this turn of events and leant closer, his lips resting beside her ear.

"No, you're not cold, are you?"

He stepped around her body and she stood, visibly trembling, in front of him. One of her friends - Xander, probably - called out to her in alarm, but Buffy ignored him. Angel smirked, his eyes catching Xander's over Buffy's shoulder. Xander's expression shuttered over, implacable rage and hate blazing in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to run forward and hit Angel, but was unsure if the vampire would hurt Buffy first.

Ahh, Buffy... He looked down over her shirt and caught a dizzying glimpse down her shirt. He remembered once, the old Angel wishing she'd get rid of them all, burn them. He'd wanted to be the only one to see her. Angelus mused that he could understand why. Licking his lips, the vampire lifted a hand. His fingertips grazed over the bare skin of her shoulder and she jumped, making a strangled little noise in her throat. A moan? the vampire thought incredulously. By the gods, she was really messed up. She wanted him to touch her.

"You're on fire, aren't you -" he paused a moment, then threw in the word that prompted this discovery, "- lover?"

Buffy whimpered, her cheeks blazing with shame and hunger, but her eyes as defiant as ever, hiding her pain. He spoke the truth - her body felt ablaze, screaming its need for relief; a relief and release only this creature could offer. Buffy knew her secret was out - not only Angelus but her friends knew it too. She saw it in their faces. Disbelief, shock, fear. And, in Xander's, betrayal. Buffy straightened determinedly. This had gone on far enough. So she wanted Angel still. That was just a physical thing, one to be overcome. The desire to stake him was as strong as the desire to touch him.

Slowly, Buffy turned. He loomed above her, his eyes obscured by shadows, but that taunting little smile lingered on lips she longed to have taste her.
"Thats right, Angel," she snapped in a grating voice. Best to let him know right now that this desire wouldn't interfere, wouldn't handicap her as a Slayer. "And you will too. You're going to burn, one day, while you sleep."

Angel looked annoyed at her bravado; he waved his hand in dismissal. "Let's leave murder alond for now, Buffy," he coaxed with a chill smile. "I have more important things to occupy my time." He looked down at her, past her face. He stepped closer, their thighs brushing against each other. Buffy's lashes flew down to hide her eyes as she took a shaky breath.
"Like this," he whispered, extending his hand to touch her breast. His thumb slid over her nipple even as he eyes snapped open and stared at him, wide and dark with aroused horror. Somewhere in the background, Xander snarled something threatening, but neither noticed.

Buffy was too busy trying to regain control of her mind, and Angel was too stunned by his own reaction.

Her nipple dug into the palm of his suddenly trembling hand, and he instinctively squeezed gently, eliciting a ragged gasp from the woman he was touching so intimately. Angel stared in disbelief at the offending hand, feeling the trembling extend to the rest of his body. He was suddenly unsure - confused, and she knew it. Her gaze met his, firm but oddly regretful.

"Its not just me," she whispered, entranced by desire as his tongue snaked out to moisten dry lips. She remembered that tongue; its taste, how it felt on her skin and doing unbelievable things to her body. "Its just our bodies. They remember."
"Remember..." Angelus echoed, staring at his hand upon her breast, as though he couldn't believe it was there. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. She existed everywhere around him; a sweetly intoxicating presence arousing him in ways he hadn't thought possible.
"They still want..." she broke off, her voice ragged.

Angelus jerked his hand back as though burnt, and snarled up at her. "All I want is for you to die!" he rasped, spinning her roughly around and pulling her back against him. His arm pushed against the soft skin of her throat and Angelus was barely even aware that he'd gone vamp.

She stood frozen in his arms. No, not frozen. Heat radiated from her, threatening to burn him. Angel snarled his defiance - he would not submit to this Slayer!

"Angel -" she whispered, tilting her head slightly, even as his head descended, fangs already extruding. Angel silenced her by placing his hand against her mouth. His canines sliced effortlessly through her skin, piercing her vein and then... then... oh god, her life, her blood was roaring into his mouth and he'd never tasted anything so perfect, so sweet, so... arousing....

Buffy was motionless in fear but nothing could have broken the spell just then. She didn't know what caused it. His chest against her back was strong and hard, just as she remembered it. She wanted to touch him, his skin - to taste... And then she felt his lips glide over her neck and nearly screamed with the need vibrating through her body. She couldn't help the hungry moan, nor the way she writhed against his body. Then - oh gods, then she felt the most exquisite ecstacy she'd ever known. Even the pleasure-pain of losing her virginity faded in comparison to this. She'd never been fed upon like this before and she gasped silently, unable to make a noise. Clutching at Angel's arms, her fingers slid caressingly over his skin as she delighted in the ability to finally touch him. Was she dying? Buffy wondered, realizing that apart from the ecstacy and faint dizziness, she felt nothing of impending death....

Angel's thoughts blurred until all he knew was the feel of Buffy in his arms, her blood on his lips. Yes, this was right, this was it. He had his fangs in her now, he was killing her -

And then she moved. Slid against him, the soft curve of her hips gliding over his groin. Her hands raced along his arm where it rested around her neck - not clutching in the throes of death, but caressing as a lover's touch.

With a hungry moan, Angelus pulled away. What madness was this? He didn't understand, but this wasn't right! Disgust and contempt settled over his features. What had he almost done? Nearly killed the Slayer - not out of hate, but from passion!

"No!" he snarled, still wearing his vampiric visage. His gaze flicked from the bemused Buffy to her shocked friends, then he turned on his heel and fled into the shadows.

He pushed her away and Buffy reached for him hungrily. Perhaps the loss of blood made her confused, but in her heart, the Slayer knew she acted out of instinct - out of a hunger more insatiable than a vampire's need for blood.
"No -" she whispered in a silent echo of Angel's cry, half-extending a hand towards the shadows he'd run through. Bemused and dizzy, Buffy took an unwise step after him and stumbled, falling to her knees. "Angel," she cried softly, tears further blurring her vision. Rivulets of blood trickled down her neck as she cried quietly.

Buffy was vaguely aware of Willow running forward to help her, but blood loss sent her fainting into unconsciousness and the next thing she knew she was waking up in a bed somewhere. A far-too-familiar face was leaning over her in concern and, with the memory of what had happened so fresh in her mind, she evaded Giles' paternal gaze in shame.
"We've given you a transfusion," he said quietly in his carefully-modulated British tones. "The wounds have been dealt with but it will take you a day or two to recover."
Buffy automatically lifted a hand to her neck, felt a bandage there. She still couldn't look at Giles, though peripheral vision told her she was in the library. The girl sat up, drawing her knees up to her chest and hiding her face in shame.

There was a long moment of silence, then she heard Giles sigh. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Finally she did look up, her eyes haunted. "What was I gonna say, Giles? You know what he's done. How was I supposed to say that as much as I hated him, I wanted -" Buffy broke off, guilt-stricken. The creature she wanted had killed Giles' lover. "Giles, I'm sorry!" she whispered desperately. "I thought I could handle it, I thought I'd still be able to-"

Giles cleared his throat, nodding sharply. "Yes, well..." His gaze was infinitely compassionate, sympathetic, even if he was slightly embarrassed by the topic. "I know you can't have anticipated this..." he hesitated. "How long have - ?"
Buffy blushed, looked away. "Always. It got worse - got stronger - the last few weeks." Since Miss Calender's death, she silently added, condemning herself. Her teacher, Giles' lover, is killed by Angelus and she just wanted him more?

"You controlled yourself well," Giles murmured. The Slayer looked up in disbelief and her Watcher smiled ruefully. "Until tonight," he amended. "From what Cordelia said, it appeared mutual. Perhaps it has rattled Angelus enough that he'll remain isolated for a while."
"Yeh. Maybe..." Buffy muttered under her breath.
Giles stood, let his hand rest briefly on her shoulder. "You should rest, Buffy. We'll talk about what to do later."

He nodded his head and, with a sigh, Buffy lay down upon the couch. She closed her eyes until she heard the door close behind Giles, then let them slowly open again. For a long moment, the Slayer endured a silence filled with brutal self-recriminations. After a few moments, her inner thoughts became echoed in a deep, angry voice. Xander, Buffy realized, wincing as she heard her own mental rebukes viciously spoken aloud in Xander's betrayed, bitter voice. Tears welled up in her eyes and Buffy sat up rather quickly. She couldn't stay here. She had to get out. Buffy stood, looked around. Her rather wild gaze rested on the window...

Two minutes later she was quietly running across the school lawn. Once she left the school grounds, Buffy glanced around the dark streets, then upwards, placing the moon and guessing at the time. Maybe an hour had passed since her meeting with Angel outside the Bronze. Buffy bit her lip, and wondered where to go. She spent a few moments prevaricating, but her destination was ultimately already decided. Angel's old apartment. The scene of her crime, as it were. She'd spent a lot of time there since Angel's change into the demon, Angelus. Particularly lately. Remembering their night together. As far as she knew, Angelus had never been back, not since he'd moved in with Druscilla and Spike.

As she moved through the silent night, Buffy muffled a snarl. She'd never liked Dru. The fact that she now lived with Angelus, touched him, did god-knows-what-else - it was enough that Buffy could cheerfully have first crucified then staked her.
She was still locked in this cycle of thought, imaginging different variations of the eventual death of Druscilla, when she reached the basement apartment Angel had occupied. To her alarm, the door was ajar...
Thieves? Buffy wondered, stepping inside, alert. The light inside was on and she immediately saw that the apartment was as it had been when she left. Not thieves. Which left only -

"Angel," she murmurred, catching sight of him sitting on the bed. Her lips pressed together, as she fought off memories of their night on that bed...

His head jerked up, his lips curling back into a sneer. "Running after me, Buffy? I didn't think you were that desperate."

That hurt, but then, she'd become accustomed to his hurting her. It was safer. She threw him a chill little smile. "Hardly. What are you doing here? You haven't been back since you changed."
Angel narrowed his eyes at her, a smirk mocking her. "But you have."
She nodded. Let him think what he would, Buffy decided, trying not to be distracted by the hunger she felt for him. He was sitting there, watching her with those sultry eyes, challenging her...

His gaze shifted; Buffy knew he saw her neck. "I did that," he noted in an odd voice. "It was too early for you yet," he explained, almost apologetically. He stood up and moved towards her. Buffy stepped back warily and he gave her a sardonic laugh. "Relax. An hour doesn't make the time right."

The calm, casual nature in which he spoke of her death chilled her as much as his cold fingers, when he reached for the bandage. She couldn't hold back the shiver as his fingertips slid over her skin, hunting for the edge of the bandage. He pulled it off roughly and Buffy muttered something at the sharp pain.

"Oooh, sorry," Angelus mocked, staring down at the open wound - the two pinpoint marks of his fangs. He lowered his head and Buffy tensed. Angelus lifted his head, mocking her with his eyes. His lips were almost touching her cheek as he spoke. "Don't worry. We have ways of concealing ourselves when we have to..." He lowered his head again, his lips pausing just against her skin.

Buffy twisted her head, trying to see what he was doing. Then she felt something wet and silky slide over her injured neck. His tongue?! Buffy gasped at the initial pain, then bit her lip against a moan. The pain faded almost instantly as the wounds sealed over - but his tongue still traced her skin. Buffy tilted her head invitingly and his lips soon joined his tongue.

Angel suddenly remembered the taste of her skin as he licked the wound closed. As well as the taste of her mouth and - other parts of her body. The wound was gone, her skin as smooth and perfect as ever. He had to know if her taste had changed. His tongue glided over her skin, lips nipping lightly at her neck. Angel wasn't even really aware of what he was doing until he heard a ragged, hungry moan escape her lips. Shock and disgust careened through him and Angelus pushed the Slayer away roughly.

Buffy stumbled, regained her balance and twisted to look at him. "You keep pushing me away, Angelus," she said with sweet venom. "But you always come back again. Why is that?"

Black fire pulsed in his eyes. How he loathed this woman. "I've never tasted a Slayer's blood before," he remarked, licking his lips and stepping back further.
"Really?" Buffy replied, her voice lowering a pitch as she taunted him. "Was it everything you hoped for? Did it fulfil your every desire?" she asked, ending the last word on a sultry purr.
He hated her. He wanted her.
"Hardly," he mocked her with her own words. "You've never had that capacity and your blood was just a little... bitter..."

Angelus trailed off with a smirk that hid his reaction to the memory of her blood. Sweet, so sweet... and rich, intoxicating beyond anything he'd ever felt before. He wanted to taste her again.

Buffy crossed her arms and stared at him in annoyed confusion. "So now what?" she demanded of him. The creature across from her arched one eyebrow, feigning ignorance. Buffy sneered, but elaborated. "Do we kill each other, or kiss?"
Her voice sort of faltered on that last word as she looked at him, and it came out soft and breathy. Angel's insides twisted at that erotic sound and his expression became harsh.

"I told you, its not your time to die," Angelus smirked. Perfect. She was coming to him willingly. How devastated would she be, the little fool, when he took her, then rejected her - again? Hadn't she learned? But more grief for Buffy was always a good thing, and Angelus was all for it. Besides, it might calm this odd perversion he was enduring. He considered his reaction to her. Perhaps it wouldn't be excessively repugnant either. He did prefer to enjoy his work.

"So we don't kill each other," the Slayer decided, not moving. Her gaze burnt where it touched him, the expression on her face challenging him.
"Thats right. Tell me," and Angel stepped closer, again circling around her. This time Buffy turned to watch him. "What did your friends say when they found out? What did Giles say when you told him you still wanted me?" he purred against his ear, trailing his fingertips over her hip, inviting her towards arousal.

Buffy bit her lip against the pleasure of his touch and the pain of his words. She burned beneath his hand, and lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Its not you I want, Angelus. Just the body Angel gave you. Besides -" and she smirked up at him, turning fully to face him. "What do Dru and Spike have to say about this little... problem you have? You can't kill me when all you can think about is touching me."
It was a gamble; Angel evidently felt some physical hunger for her, but she wasn't sure how strong it was. Hesitation in his eyes made her want to exclaim in delight. Her lips curled into a smile as she drove her point home by touching him. Not much. Just the barest brush of her fingertips over his stomach.

He made a noise very much like a predator about to strike, his chill fingers roughly grabbing her hand. She didn't mind. Even the old Angel had been rough when he was uncertain. "Don't touch me," he growled at her, stepping back.

"Why not? Play fair, Angel," she taunted him, eyes darkening as she watched the play of shadows and moonlight over his eyes. All she wanted was to go to him, slide her arms around his neck... Push him backwards onto that bed and discover if Angelus tasted as wonderful as Angel had. Buffy took a deep, hungry breath and looked at Angelus, seeing the same longing reflected in his black orbs.

Angel saw it in her eyes. She knew. She'd figured out the horrifying secret he'd discovered barely an hour earlier and now he was as vulnerable and open as she was. "Oh no, you don't," he snarled, leaping. He grabbed her shoulders, pinning her against the wall with the force of his lunge. He wanted to hit her - or something! - but the moment he realized their bodies were pushed full-force against each other, Angelus was lost.

With a desperate groan, he lowered his head as she raised hers. He claimed her lips with his ferociously, damning her with every touch. The kiss began as a battle as dangerous as any of their fights, but then she suddenly softened against him. Her mouth stopped attacking his, started gliding against it. Her tongue grazed his and she whimpered, the intoxicating softness of her body writhing against him. Angel groaned a denial, but his fate was already decided.

Madness! he thought dazedly, clutching at her convulsively. His arms slid around her tiny waist and there she was, in her embrace. And all he could think about was how much he wanted her. Needed her so damned much -

"Angel..." she pleaded against his lips, her tongue teasing his mouth hungrily. She was in heaven and hell all at once. Ecstacy at finally having him touch her and agony because he wasn't touching her where and how she needed him to. "Please -" she moaned, her hands gliding up over his back. He curled around her as they kissed and she loved it, she always had. How easy this would be, how simple to pretend it was still her Angel.

But it wasn't. The creature she so desperately wanted, the creature even now sending her spinning frantically into the dizzying heights of passion, was a monster. He'd killed Jenny Calender, and countless others. Even worse, he'd taken Angel. Buffy felt revulsion swell up within her, her stomach twisting as desire soured suddenly inside her. What was she doing? She was the Slayer, this was a Vampire!

Angelus felt her withdrawal and something died within him. She didn't want him? He lifted his head, her frantic breaths falling across his face. "Change your mind, lover?" he sneered. She trembled in his arms but, even as he exulted in his sense of power, Angel knew it was false. He was as hopelessly entangled in this as she was.

"No - Angelus, you're not him! You're not him!" she cried, struggling half-heartedly. "You killed him!" Her voice rose in an accusing crescendo, and she began punching him. Angel grunted, grabbed her wrists firmly.
"No, Buffy. You did."

She froze, and he cursed himself silently. Angel felt a shudder pass through her delicate frame and wondered what was happening to her, even as his arms closed around her. She looked up, tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, horrified, terrified.
"Shut up," Angel growled, unnerved by the sight of those tears. It struck him more than a physical attack and he lowered his head to eradicate that evidence. His tongue slid along her skin and tasted the tears, drawing them away. She stilled in his arms, her breath stuttering to a halt.
"God help me," Buffy whispered, lifting her head.
"God's not here, Buffy. Its just me," he replied in his chilling voice.
But his eyes - oh his eyes were so hot, full of black fire and passion, and they sucked her in, pulled at her, threatened to devour her.
"No," she protested weakly, but she did not pull away.
"Yes," he growled, his need as hungry and insatiable as hers. Madness this was, yes. But neither could deny it. Without moving, somehow they were pulled together, their lips barely touching. Hers trembled, a mere breath of air away from his.
"I hate you," Buffy whispered fiercely against his mouth.
Angelus hid his pain with a sneer. "Good."

And then - he took her.