"You're bleeding."

That statement puzzled me. I wasn't bleeding, but he proved me wrong as he flipped my hand around. In the middle of my palm was a humongous gash that was still oozing blood. I glanced at Angel; his eyes were trained to my hand. This wasn't helping; I needed to get out of here. Slowly I pulled my hand away, balling my fist. He turned to me, and I felt like I would stop breathing. He looked so worried, and for some reason it aggravated me. Why should he care? I mean he was giving depressing talks to other blonde girls in the sewers; I always thought that was our special thing. I guess not.

"I'm fine." I spat, my voice calm and even; a surprising feat from someone who's hyperventilating. Angel stood, and I thought I had gotten away. How presumptuous of me, and stupid. Angel was not going to let someone walk away with a bleeding wound, no matter how much they want to. He grabbed my hand again, and when I tried to pull away he just held on tighter. He looked at me like I was crazy.

"You're bleeding."

Like that sentence was all the explanation needed. I didn't have much strength left, I felt like I could faint. I hadn't slept in days, the dreams were exceptionally bad this week and sleep was some type of fairy tale. Angel hefted me up in one pull, making sure I was balanced on my feet. He dragged me behind him, holding on to my injured hand. Before I could even ask where he was taking me (asking was all I could do now, if Angel wasn't dragging me along I would most likely collapse) he answered me.

"You need to get that cleaned."

I would scoff if I had energy. I shuffled along behind him. Telling him,'Sure, I'll clean it the second I get home.' was not going to convince him. If I just went with him, I'd be able to escape faster. This man did strange things to my respiratory system. We walked along, and in the reflection of the windows we past I could see the memories of us laughing. My delusions were only becoming stronger every second I stayed near him, and I think that hurt me the most. Since my lovely talk with ''Coffee Guy'', and The Immortal I've come to realize how much I truly love Angel. I've come to see that there is no getting over it and moving on, I could never leave Angel in the past. I've always had him somewhere in my future; I would always be looking around every bend hoping to find him. And I hated myself for that. I know what problems our relationship can cause to my friends, family, and anyone else we come in contact with, yet I still want his touch, his kiss. I want to wake up next to him every morning, and that's why I hate myself. I tried to push him away, but he always finds me. Plus 'Coffee Guy's' dreams have helped me think of Angel twenty four seven, enough time to figure out why these old wounds still hurt.

Bumping into something hard, I realized Angel stopped. Stepping back, I closed my eyes gently rubbing my forehead with my free hand. I felt something cool take my hand and push it down. Upon opening my eyes I saw it was Angel's hand, and he was currently inspecting my forehead for damage. This time I did scoff, I wasn't that fragile. He looked down at me before turning to open the door. I turned my head to see we only walked a few blocks. It would only happen to me, the person I'm trying to run from I just run to their house. I cast my eyes to the sky, Funny.

Angel opened the door, and then led me up a few flights till we got to his apartment door. He held the door open forcing me to go in first. Once inside, he watched me as I looked around sliding my fingers along the walls. I heard the lock click, and I smiled to myself. He still saw me as a flee risk. The lock wouldn't keep me in here, but would alert him that I was attempting to get out. I shivered. But it wasn't a second after, when I felt something fall around my shoulders. Angel had draped a blanket around my shoulders; he took my hand and made me sit on his couch. Angel held my hand in his and frowned. The blood was still gushing out, and running down my arm. Despite the state my hand was in, I was afraid of dripping blood on Angel's carpets. I knew how hard blood was to get out, also difficult to explain to the cleaners…

He wiped up the blood as fast as he could, in an attempt to get a look, but the blood continued to pour out with no sign of clotting. Angel's brow knitted up in worry and confusion, as he dabbed my hand with a wet towel. I shivered each time his finger touched my skin, but he was too worried about my hand. I had been loosing a lot of blood. The fact that I couldn't remember when or where or how I cut myself was troubling at most, but why wouldn't it stop bleeding?

Isn't that a scary fact? So why didn't it matter to me? All I could think about was how close Angel was to me, and the more I thought about that the less I could breath. Something that was very important. I was filled with relief when Angel got up. I took in deep breaths trying to gain all the oxygen I could before he came back. It was a long time before he came back and I was almost breathing normally. Damn that boy, and his timing. He had a roll of gauze, and he grabbed my hand frowning at the sight of fresh blood. He wiped it off once more with the towel, which was covered in blood before wrapping my hand adding on more layers as it bleed through. Once he took care of that he cleaned up, and I stared at my hand. I was wishing it had stopped bleeding, when I could see red poking through the white.

I clenched my hand as he approached; hoping that he wouldn't notice the new blood since he'd spent the last ten minutes cleaning it. He sat in front of me, and looked down at his hands before looking at me. I felt like I was a child in trouble with their dad. But I was always a child to Angel, wasn't I? He is two hundred and forty some odd years older than me. I was never really on his level. I looked down at my hand, hoping not to make eye contact with him. I was foolish to think about a relationship between me and him. I was only a foolish little girl still, right? He sighed, and my eyes snapped back.

"Buffy…" He trailed off. He seemed distracted, and looked away. I tilted my head at him, what was wrong? What did he have to tell me? "I know I don't have any say in this, but you don't look so well. Have you been sleeping… at all?"

I almost laughed, since when did Angel care if he had a say in it or not? I wanted to tell him no, but the room was spinning. I had to make sure the room stopped before I could say anything. Looking down at my hand I could see the blood rushing down my arm. Hugging my hand closer to me, and I forced my self to say something. Angel looked worried; what ever I pushed out of my mouth was not a coherent sentence. Which wasn't surprising since the room was closing in on me, and all I could feel were the beads of blood running down my arm. My breathing became heavy, and Angel grabbed my shoulders.

"Buffy, you have to tell me what's wrong. What's going on?"

I wanted to respond, but my voice wouldn't work. I was going to do something, any thing to tell Angel something was wrong. I had to let someone know, I just had to go. I tried to get up but Angel held me down. He was saying something, his lips were moving but I couldn't detect the sound. I pulled my hand closer to me, he just couldn't see it. He couldn't see the blood. I closed my eyes, but when I opened them Angel was gone. I looked around he was at the door, with that girl, the poor blonde girl he was yelling at. I wanted to yell at her, 'Don't fall in love. He only breaks hearts!' but I couldn't. That's when the room spun, and got smaller and smaller but the door led to freedom. I had to get out. I had to get out now!

With the rest of my strength I pushed my self up and ran towards the door. The girl stepped back and I passed easily, running down the hall. I fumbled down the steps, almost tripping twice but I needed to go. I couldn't hear Angel behind me but I knew he was there and I clenched my hand harder. I pushed open the door to the outside world, I wanted to stop and breathe but my legs wouldn't let me. I kept running, and running. But suddenly I did stop, I ran into something hard. Well it wasn't really a something, it was some one. I ran into someone's chest, looking up I saw Xander. I was so happy; I think a smile reached my face. I looked behind him and saw Willow climbing out of a car. She looked worried.

I could start to see the world around me go dark, and I couldn't breathe again. Sucking in breath I held up my hand. The whole bandage was covered in red, along with most of my arm. Xander was yelling to Willow behind him or Angel behind me I wouldn't know I couldn't actually hear what Xander yelled, I just knew he was yelling. I pulled on his shirt with my good hand. It took all I had to get my next two words out, to make sure they made sense and not just a mumble of syllables like I told Angel. This was important, the most important thing in my slowly fading world.

"Something's wrong."

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Okay, so here's the next part in my story. Thank you to all the reviewers, I'll try to get the next part out soon. But just a warning, the story will be ¾ romance, ¼ plot. So please have patience with me.