Buffy and Angel have feuded once again, but ... this time it went too far! Review, please.
Buffy fell to the ground once more, her limbs splayed. Her right eye was swollen and red, her lip, busted, and spurting blood, her knuckles bruised and sore, her clothes torn and ripped, stained with scarlet liquid. She lay still on the floor, shivering and shaking violently as she continued to whiten and lose more blood from the small, bloody puncture marks on her neck, her foot mangled.
'Haven't you learned anything, Buffy?' a cold, hard voice asked her. He reached down, grabbed her arms tightly, and pulled her up about a foot off the floor. She hung there limply, tears pouring down her rosy cheeks, sparkling in the glare of the silvery full moon that was visible above the church bell-tower.
Licking her parched lips and swallowing the suffocating lump in her throat, Buffy whispered:
'That I love you, Angel.'
Yelling with anger, fire blazing in his eyes, Angel launched her across the dusty yard. She hit the plinth of a large grey statue, half hidden in the shadows, and cried in agony, then stopped moving. Pacing, Angel ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. His eyes rested on Buffy's no longer tranquil figure. She was on her knees, coughing and retching heavily, choking slowly, crying silently.
Taking pity, Angel stood over her, and thumped her on the back. She turned to look at him, wordlessly asking him why with her large, crystal clear, sea-blue eyes.
'You know we can't be together,' Angel muttered quietly. Buffy just clung to his legs, burying her face deep inside his jeans. 'I … I'm too dangerous.'
Wailing with misery, Buffy started to pummel his knees. Angel entwined his arms around her waist, and hoisted her into his arms. She sobbed and cried and sniffled and howled and bawled. Angel carried her inside the church, and jogged through hundreds of dark, dimly lit corridors, Buffy dying in his arms, her bite marks killing her.
Finally charging into an enormous hall, Angel squinted. Lanterns flickered from their brackets. An immense stone table, with strange runes adorned on the edges, sat in the middle of the hall, dusty and infested by lacy cobwebs.
Dumping her onto the table, Angel murmured an ancient spell that would revive Buffy and stop her becoming a vampire. Hastily, Angel wracked his brains, suddenly forgetting the last couple of words, Angel swore loudly, and watched as Buffy clutched her chest, rising and falling rapidly, perspiring, dripping onto the floor and creating a diminutive puddle.
She was dead. Her hand fell away from her chest, and lay flaccidly beside her.
'No! No! Wake up!' Angel whimpered, shaking Buffy's shoulders, hoping that she would arouse. 'Please … Please wake up!' he pleaded pathetically.