It took Angel all of five seconds to determine that this could not really be happening.

"Buffy," he said with great difficulty, averting his eyes from her entirely as he tried to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea. "Stop."

"Angel," she countered, voice ever-so-slightly harsh, whether from desire or annoyance he was not entirely certain, "just take off your pants."

No, this can definitely not be happening. "I don't think- that's a good idea," he said tightly, still averting his eyes, which did no good at all as she let out a low moan and his gaze flashed up against his will just in time to see her arch upward as she licked her lips. This is not a good idea. No, this is insanity. I've been back for less than 24 hours. She is a widow. There is a reason we can't do this which involves death and destruction-

"I'm sorry," she near- purred, disrupting his thoughts as she suddenly crawled toward the end of the bed, skimpy camisole falling downward and giving him a prime view."Did you want me to take them off for you?"

She's been possessed. It is the only possible-

And then she was standing in front of him and any hope of coherent thinking fled as her hands went to his belt, not hesitant and uncertain like he remembered but sure and efficient.

"I know," she said slowly, as she removed the belt with one swift movement and let it hit the floor with a soft thud, "you're thinking-" she sighed in frustration, then shrugged. "Actually, forget it- I have no idea what you're thinking. But I know that you want me. And I know that I have ALWAYS wanted you. Why do we keep pretending all the time?"

He groaned as she reached up to kiss him.

An hour later Angel tried to relax as Buffy curled around him. "Buffy-" he tried to begin even as he snaked an arm around her unconsciously, and she put a finger to his lips.

"Shhhhh," she whispered.

With that, she gently twined one leg through his and closed her eyes.

Buffy stirred what might have been hours or minutes later for all she knew at this particular moment. She felt Angel's arms still around her, body warm from a night of lying beside her, and turned to face him, small smile on her face as she murmured "Good morning," sleepily, looking more content than he'd seen her in a very long time, and he almost couldn't do it.

Almost.

"Good morning," he replied coolly, pulling away from her as her brow furrowed in confusion and he stepped over to where his pants had been abandoned on the floor, pulling them on in one swift motion before reaching for his shirt- only to drop it as though he'd been burned when he saw it had practically been shredded in half. He heard rather than saw her sit up as she asked gently, suddenly sounding far more alert,

"Are you okay?"

"I was just wondering where you learned all that," he forced himself to reply blandly, steeling himself before turning to face her, instantly regretting the decision as he saw confusion and the beginning of hurt flash over her features as he continued, determined to protect her no matter what it cost him. "But then, I'm sure Spike was an excellent teacher."

"You must be joking," she said, standing with a sheet wrapped tightly around her as she headed in the direction of her own discarded pants and he continued,

"Or was he not the only one? I assume he was the first, but-"

Buffy's jaw dropped and she trembled with barely concealed rage as she snapped, "Not that it's any of your business, but I never did that with Spike. Spike fucked me like a man."

She looked remorseful even before the words were out of her mouth, and despite the fact that he knew he had goaded her into it, Angel felt like he had been sucker punched directly in the gut.

"You know I didn't mean that," she said almost at once, a sort of quiet desperation in her voice as she prayed he knew that was true. "I just don't- why are you saying this to me?"

The pained expression on her face almost broke his heart until a new idea occurred to him and he felt his mind harden once more as he said coldly, "I'm not Angelus, if that's what you're thinking. It would take more than mediocre- you know- to accomplish that."

To his surprise she looked mostly amused at that statement before rolling her eyes. "Well, duh," she retorted sharply, shimmying into her jeans. "In case you missed it, that was sort of the point. And," she said, eyes flashing, "Contrary to what you seem to think, I'm not a TOTAL idiot. I can tell the two of you apart." She smirked slowly, adding, "Besides, even if I couldn't, the fact that you can't even bring yourself to use the words mutual masturbation in front of me would sort of be a giveaway."

"It doesn't matter," he cut her off heavily in what she had come to recognize as his 'this is the final word' voice, and she felt intense anger at the fact that he would take that tone with her after everything even before he completed the statement with, "Last night was a mistake. Let's not make it worse by-"

"A mistake?" she asked incredulously, letting out a disbelieving snort. "Well, it's nice to see that your speech doesn't get more creative over the years. Good old reliable Angel, always good for a heartbreak."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Buffy, let's just admit it was a mistake-" he began again, then trailed off, and she wondered if he would ever realize how maddening she found that, how many more hours she had spent agonizing over his millions of half-started thoughts than things he'd actually said outright.

"Care to elaborate?" she demanded harshly. "Or are we still with the cryptic?" After a long moment of silence she sighed. "Okay, then, I guess it's safe to say that we're still with the cryptic." She frowned. "Which actually, I have to tell you, is kind of disappointing." She shook her head. "But I guess that doesn't matter. Why don't we talk about what we can rule out in terms of this whole 'mistake' idea? First of all, I think it's safe to say that that was NOT mediocre." She paused, and then added decisively, "In any way. It doesn't have to be intercourse to be worth something, or were they not teaching that in 17th century Ireland?"

"Actually it was 18th century-"

"My God!" she cried out in disbelief, throwing her oversized sweater over her head and stalking toward him. "You really will say ANYTHING to avoid an actual honest conversation, won't you?"

"Buffy, you're just not hearing me," he said with a tormented sigh. "Why- why open up that kind of pain when it's so simple. Last night WAS a mistake, it will NOT happen again, and I'm sorry to have-"

"Well, I am NOT sorry," she fired back, before looking him in the eye and adding, far more softly but with infinite certainty, "And I don't think you really are either. I just don't get why you-"

Something in him seemed to snap as she began to analyze his feelings and he grabbed her sharply, shaking her slightly as he demanded, "When are you going to understand? We cannot do this. I am not WORTH this. You deserve-"

She yanked away from him, rolling her eyes. "Oh, wait! I know this speech too! And you know what? I am DAMN sick of it. God forbid that a good person should actually get to experience some happiness," she said, voice shaking with the effort it was taking to neither burst into tears, slap him, or kiss him senseless. "God forbid that-"

"I am not a person," he cut her off harshly, and she opened her mouth to protest the statement before her face crumbled and the first of the tears she'd been suppressing trailed down her cheek.

"Okay," she said in a small voice, hating how pathetic and young she sounded. "Fine. Say that that's true. What about me?" Another tear trailed down her face as she took a tentative step closer to him. "Am I not a good person? Do I not deserve happiness? Forget yourself and your STUPID ideas about who you are for half a minute here and think about me."

He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, forcing his voice not to shake as he replied, "You're all I ever-"

"No!" she cried, cutting him off with a sob and taking another step toward him, reaching out a shaking hand before letting it fall ineffectually to her side in defeat. "Think about ME. Don't think about what you think I deserve to have in life and don't think about some ridiculous, irrelevant, outdated picture you have in your head about what my life should be like and what would make me happy and what I want. I'm not a little girl anymore." She shook her head, frustrated at her inability to fully explain before beginning again, "For all your efforts to protect me, I have never been normal. I will never had a normal life. And anything I EVER had that was normal paled in comparison to how happy I was with YOU." She took a deep breath, crossing the rest of the gap between them and placing her hands firmly on his arms, looking earnestly into his face. "So what about ME? Do I not deserve happiness?"

"You know," he said with difficulty, voice rough from the effort it was taking him not to cry himself, "that that's all I've ever wanted for you."

Her face contorted briefly with an emotion Angel didn't wholly recognize as she grasped his arms tighter, inquiring almost desperately, "Then WHY can't you believe that happiness to me is you? Is it NO indication whatsoever to you that every time I see you I-"

His brow furrowed in confusion as he inquired "You?"

"Just want to bask," she said softly after a long moment. "I told you that once, right? And I-"

"No one should bask in me," he cut her off coldly, turning from her, and Buffy felt some long-strained thread inside her finally snap as her face fell one final time before suddenly growing detached. "Fine," she whispered slowly, "You win." Frowning slightly at the unfamiliar words on her tongue, she said them again, louder, "You win," pleased when he turned back toward her despite feeling the pressing need to avert her eyes from his almost immediately, stooping down under the pretext of picking up her red thong. "I am done," she continued, voice gaining strength as she felt all the years of frustration finding an outlet. "In fact, I am so beyond done that I need a new word for done." She blushed, looking slightly abashed as she muttered, half to herself, " Though I do somehow feel this would have more impact if I weren't holding the shredded remains of a red thong that you ripped off my body."

He looked at her, pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry about that, it was-"

"Oh my god!" she cried in exasperation. "NO more sorry! Do I look sorry? The only thing better than you ripping it off me was the expression on your face as you did it." She shook her head in something resembling disgust. "But this just proves my point. It's not about me. It NEVER was. It's all about you and your insane need to punish yourself for things that you didn't even do! And I can't change that, can I?" Her eyes locked with his for an uneasy moment before she whispered sadly, "No matter how much I- I- it's just never enough."

She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment and hoping for strength as she continued, louder, "Well screw this. I mean screw it. This is the LAST time you do this to me. I am DONE. If Ethan showed up right now and wanted to stake you I would stand back and LET him, that is how sick of your shit I am. Because, you know, love is so-"

"Well, that's certainly heartening to hear," Buffy suddenly heard from behind her and she turned around slowly in dismayed disbelief to see Ethan standing at the door, surrounded by men. "I was concerned I was going to need to fight both of you."