************
Angelus fixed his gaze on Buffy. The chip hadn't gone off while he was drinking, probably because she had freely offered and he hadn't really hurt her. Of course, if he'd kept going she would have been drained, and it wouldn't have taken all that much longer, either. Her death would have been an absolute shame. The circumstances weren't nearly dramatic enough to suit Angelus.
Nevertheless, he was pleased. He had taken as much blood as he had dared and then some, enraptured by the taste of the rich, Slayer-enhanced liquid. In fact, he didn't think he had *ever* had better blood. Maybe he should reconsider his plans to do away with Buffy. If he could convince her to become his personal drinking fountain, she'd be worth keeping around indefinitely.
Buffy was staring at him with fear and horror in her eyes as she clutched her bleeding arm. Angelus finally returned to his human guise, and she visibly relaxed. But she didn't come any nearer. That would never do, Angelus decided. He had to fix things. "Buffy?" he murmured as weakly as possible. "Is that you?"
She stifled a sob. "Yes, Angel. You're going to be okay."
"What...happened?" He wrinkled his brow and did his best to imitate Xander's usual expression.
The old "fake amnesia" routine worked like a charm. "You were injured, but everything's all right now. My love brought you back from the brink of death."
'Aren't you forgetting something? I'm already dead.' Artfully, Angelus fluttered his eyelashes.
As he had expected, that little trick brought Buffy scuttling to his side like a crab. "Angel? What's wrong?"
He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Buffy. "Just gathering my thoughts. Tell me what happened?"
Buffy gestured around the untidy room. "I heard about your run-in with my mom, I came over to talk, and I found you lying here. Oh, my God, Angel!" she shrieked practically in his ear, obviously not sparing a thought to the extreme sensitivity of vampire hearing. "What did this to you?"
"A demon," Angelus explained, trying to communicate the full force of his sincerity to Buffy. He actually wasn't lying, and he had to take advantage of the few times he bothered to be honest with her. Because in truth, a demon--or more precisely, two--*had* done the damage. Once Angelus had come up with the plan that afternoon to fool Buffy and win her sympathy, he and Spike had launched into action, trashing the house. Then they'd called a little black magic into effect to create Angelus' extreme pallor. Afterwards, Spike had gleefully helped the older vampire obtain a few nasty-looking external injuries. Predictably, Buffy had shown up at the mansion to find the place in chaos. Spike had already fled the scene, leaving Buffy to draw the obvious conclusion. "Yeah, a demon did it," Angelus repeated.
"What did it look like?" Buffy questioned, slipping into Slayer mode.
"It was...big," Angelus answered vaguely. "It took me by surprise. I didn't get a good look at it, and my memory's still shaky."
Ah, the perfect excuse, which Buffy didn't question after another glance at his limp body. "We shouldn't leave you lying on the floor." She reached over and flipped the overturned couch. "There, good as new. Can you move?"
"I think so." Angelus shifted, pleased that his wounds had almost completely healed. Of course, Buffy didn't need to know that. The injuries had been a necessary evil to trick the Slayer, and not one he'd enjoyed undergoing. Pain was (usually) so much more fun to deal out than to endure. Fortunately, his plotting might have served its purpose. Musing over the odds of success, Angelus abused Buffy's generous and unnecessary help during the move over to the couch.
Buffy brought over a throw pillow and arranged it under his head. "Is that better?"
Her concern was really rather sweet. Angelus hated sweetness. "Wonderful," he lied.
Sinking onto the floor at his side, Buffy laughed softly. "You know, you're going to think I'm being a little foolish, but for a minute there, I was worried that you were, well, Angelus again. You looked at me with those eyes like he used to. But that was stupid. You couldn't have lost your soul because you didn't have a moment of happiness."
"Exactly," Angelus agreed soothingly. "After all, what part of being attacked by a demon would make me happy?"
Buffy cocked her head and listened intently. "Do you think the demon's still in the house?"
Angelus pretended to consider. "No, it ran away. I think I injured it pretty badly. It probably crawled outside and died nearby."
"You can't be sure of that. I have to track it down. Who knows how many other people it might attack if it survives." Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Anyway, I have a score to settle. I've said it before: You can try to do what you want to me, but my boyfriend is off limits! I'm going to kick that demon's ass."
She jumped up and started to storm off, but had only taken a few steps before she swayed ominously. Angelus allowed himself a tiny grin. The blood loss had gotten to Buffy. He watched as she steadied herself against the one leather armchair he had dared to buy.
"Maybe I'll wait a little while," she decided.
"Good idea." Angelus waited until Buffy collapsed upon the chair, then continued with his plan. "So... did you mean what you said? About me being your boyfriend again?"
Buffy opened her mouth. "I...um..." She took a deep breath. "Yeah. I did mean it."
This time, Angelus couldn't restrain himself from smirking in triumph. Buffy was falling right into his clutches.
***
It was a beautiful day even if the sun *was* shining, Angelus decided. His plan was rolling along, he had the house to himself for the time being, and he'd gotten drunk on Slayer blood. Speaking of the Slayer, she had re-declared his love for him, which was just what he'd been angling for. She'd gone home earlier this morning, more or less recovered from her donation of the night before, with a promise to come back later to see him and the implication that they could spend the weekend together.
Yes, things were going well. Except for the condition of the house. Angelus looked with disgust at the filthy mess that surrounded him. True, his handiwork had served an ignoble purpose, but the last thing he wanted to do was spend the day cleaning up the mansion. Still, the splattered blood, the plaster shards, the sheer disarray offended his sensibilities.
As he considered how best to resolve the problem, a noise from the back of the house alerted Angelus to the presence of an intruder. He whirled around to see Spike stroll into the room and remove a heavy plaid blanket from around his shoulders.
Spike tossed the blanket onto the floor and regarded Angelus. "You're still here, so I can only assume my plan succeeded brilliantly."
Angelus snatched up the blanket and threw it over the back of the sofa. "*Your* plan? I was the genius behind it."
"No, as I recall, I suggested it a few days ago. You just made some minor adjustments and stole it for your own uses."
"As I was saying, *my* plan worked like a charm," Angelus went on smoothly. "About all I have left to do is to find an innocent demon to take the blame for the attack on me. I would have done it last night, but Buffy decided to stay over."
Spike shrugged and threw himself onto the couch. "Problem already taken care of. I was thinking way ahead of you, mate. Proves it was my plan, doesn't it? Anyway, one ugly demon carcass is outside your back door as we argue. You can thank me anytime."
Angelus gestured around the room. "I might after you clean up in here. See, living in the midst of squalor might not bother you, but it certainly disturbs me."
"So clean the place yourself, then. I've got worse things to do. Besides, I don't think it's fair that you stole the credit for my plan, *and* you got Slayer blood and I didn't."
"How do you know I got Slayer blood? You weren't here last night."
"Got a brain, don't I? I figured Slutty would come to your rescue the only way she could think up."
Angelus was about to fill Spike in when he heard a second disturbing noise. "Shhh!" He listened intently. "Shit! Spike, get out of here! Two cars just stopped outside, and I detect the mind-numbing voices of Buffy's little friends."
"Whose home is this, theirs or mine? Bad enough I had to stay out all last night and come home during the day." Spike slowly got to his feet. "Fine, I'll go upstairs and watch some telly. Good thing we moved it back there, out of harm's way. I'd hate to have destroyed it for no real reason."
"Keep the volume down!" Angelus called after him.
Fortunately, Buffy and company took their time moving, so Spike was well out of the way before they made their way to the house. As they filed inside, Angelus was able to greet them with his best fake "surprised" voice, growing less enthusiastic by the person. "Buffy. Anya. Tara. Willow. Giles. Xander." Well, matters could have been worse. At least Buffy was still on the outs with Riley and hadn't invited him over.
Buffy beamed at him. "Angel, I told the gang what happened to you and they all felt really bad, so we came over to help you clean up the mess. We even brought our own supplies. See?" She held up a bucket and sponge, while the others displayed their own equipment.
"How...thoughtful." Angelus quickly decided that he rather liked the idea of Buffy and her gang slaving away, fixing the damage *he* had caused.
Judging from the permanent scowl affixed to Xander's face, he was present under duress. Nevertheless, like the others, he set to work scrubbing and sweeping and vacuuming away. Angelus made sure to participate as little as possible, instead answering Giles' probing questions about the previous night's "attack" and his current condition.
He cleverly waited until the house was nearly spotless before "pretending" to remember important information. "By the way, Buffy, the demon that attacked me is lying dead outside the back door, like I suspected last night."
Immediately, everyone dropped their cleaning supplies and moved in a pack to the rear of the house. Angelus lurked inside as they dragged the body up near the back door, where he got his first real look at it. The demon was a skinny, gray, scaly thing with small claws on its limbs.
Giles shook his head as he studied the creature. "Angel, this is a Malkov demon. They are usually very poor fighters. I don't understand how one could have overpowered you, considering your vastly superior strength."
"It did take me by surprise," Angelus covered, wondering if Spike had deliberately chosen a weak demon just to make him squirm. Probably.
"I simply don't understand it," Giles reiterated.
Everyone else regarded Angelus with varying degrees of suspicion (Xander, Anya) and pity (the others).
He couldn't have them questioning his actions too closely. It was time to work on damage control. Buffy was most vulnerable to his trickery. He had to cut her away from the herd. "Buffy, can I talk to you alone?" Angelus maneuvered her into the privacy of the living room and pinned on a sorrowful expression as he launched into his latest lie. "It pains me to have to say this, but I'm afraid your mother's appearance yesterday played no small role in the extent of the injuries I sustained. You see, she said some very upsetting and distracting things to me, so I was hardly at my best when it counted."
Buffy frowned. "What upsetting things?"
Angelus rolled out the token objection. "I don't know if I should tell you."
"*Like what*?" Buffy snapped.
Angelus sighed. "Since you insist on knowing... I'm no good for you, I drag you down, I should stay out of your life, that sort of thing. I shouldn't have let it get to me. After all, it's not like I haven't heard those same words from Joyce before."
"When before?"
"Before you graduated from high school, Joyce came to see me." Which was perfectly correct. It was always best to mix some truths with the lies.
"You never told me about that!" Buffy recalled.
"I shouldn't even be mentioning it now. Please forget I did."
As he had expected, Buffy ignored the request. "Answer one question: Did that talk with my mother play any part in your decision to leave me and move to Los Angeles?"
"Buffy, it's not like she said anything that wasn't true.... All right, yes, it did help convince me to leave. But don't blame your mother. She was doing what she felt was best for you, like any good mother should."
"She was interfering in matters that didn't concern her, you mean." Buffy's lips compressed into a thin line. "Wait until I have a little talk with my so-called 'good' mother."
Those words were music to Angelus' ears. Joyce would regret the day she had poked her nose into his business, or the soul's. Because he might hate the soul, but it was *his* soul to crush down. When some harridan like Joyce Summers took it upon herself to intercede, she had to be properly put in her place. Ah, the intricacies of mental torture. If Angelus could destroy the mother/daughter bond, it would be a very proud night indeed.
***
The much-anticipated weekend was upon him. In preparation for Buffy's likely arrival, Angelus devoted part of Friday to cleaning and decorating the main bedroom of the mansion. Just in case, of course. He couldn't have any particular expectations, considering how hot and cold Buffy had been running around him. When he was satisfied the room was in suitable condition, he proceeded downstairs to find Spike lounging on the sofa, clutching a goblet of blood in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
At the annoying sight, Angelus felt his patience evaporating. "Spike. What are you still doing here?"
"What's wrong with you, mate?" Spike blew a stream of smoke in his direction. "Get up on the wrong side of the coffin?"
"I'm expecting Buffy over at any minute. She implied that we're going to spend the weekend together. In other words, I don't want a third wheel hanging around. Find yourself another place to crash until Monday." Angelus snatched the cigarette from Spike's mouth and crushed it out on the broken remains of the coffee table.
"Hey, that's hardly fair," Spike protested. "*I* live here, not Slutty, *and* I'm your partner in crime. It's in your best interests to treat me with a little more respect. You need me a lot more than I need you."
"Fine. For hell's sake, Spike, will you please haul your undead ass out of this place for the weekend?"
"That's more like it." Spike finished off his drink, handed the goblet to Angelus, and sauntered toward the door. "See you in a few."
"Wait." Angelus grabbed his sleeve. "What will you be up to while you're gone? Remember, you'll have to lie low. Buffy isn't the only one who knows what you look like, and I doubt her friends will be thrilled to see you around."
Spike shook his arm free. "Like I'd allow any of that sorry lot to spot me? Not gonna happen."
"All right, then." Angelus stood back, then remembered his latest idea. "Before you go, there *is* one thing you can do to help me."
Spike raised a brow. "And what's that?"
"Investigate Maggie Walsh. Identify her, figure out her schedule, pinpoint any of her weaknesses. The more preparation we put into matters, the easier the job will be when it comes time to capture her."
"That, I don't know about. You say 'we' a lot, but I'm the one ends up slogging away most of the time. This business sounds like more of the same, and you know what they say: 'Hard work pays off in the future. Laziness pays off now.' I read that on a calendar somewhere and let me tell you, it's sounding pretty good at the moment."
Angelus growled. "Spike, need I remind you that this chip does *not* prevent me from harming other demons?"
"Fine, I'll see what I can do. No need to get nasty 'bout things." Spike trotted over to the door and paused with his hand on the knob. "Oh, by the way, bad luck with the Slayer."
With Spike out of his hair, Angelus spent the next half hour disposing of any signs that another vampire had been in the house. It wouldn't do to make Buffy suspicious. The lingering cigarette smoke caused the most trouble, but after throwing open all the nearby doors and windows and airing out the place, Angelus was reasonably satisfied that Buffy wouldn't notice the scent. He had barely finished his last sweep of the ground floor when the sound of muffled crying reached his ears. Buffy had arrived.
"Angel!" she called in a quavering voice. "I need you!"
Angelus went to greet the sobbing Slayer, wondering who or what had caused her such emotional distress and how he could thank them. "There, there." He patted her on the back, still trying to get used to the gentle, soothing style instead of the forceful smacks he preferred to dole out. "What's got you so upset?"
With a last hiccuping sob, Buffy calmed herself enough to speak clearly. "I confronted my mother and we had a huge fight. It was awful. She admitted she came to see you before graduation and she claimed it was 'for my own good.' I can't trust her anymore. How could my own mother go behind my back that way? Then she brought things down to a choice between you and her, no middle ground. I told her, 'Fine, Angel is the only one who's honest with me so I pick him.' And it's true. You don't lie to me or go behind my back to try to ruin my life. You're supportive and generous and kind and loving, and I don't know what I'd do if you ever left me again."
"You don't have to worry about that happening," Angelus reassured her.
Buffy nodded. "I know." She took several deep breaths, then stepped back and looked him in the eye. "That's why I've come to a huge decision. It's time, Angel. I want you to make love to me. You said you're sure you won't lose your soul and I trust you with all my heart and soul. I know you'd never deliberately do anything to put me in danger."
Ah, the injustice of it all. Like an overripe plum, Buffy was finally falling into his hands. It just went to prove, perseverance paid off.
However, Angelus realized he'd taken too long to gloat instead of answering when, fresh tears glistening in her eyes, Buffy drew back. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think to ask how you felt. If you don't want me anymore, I'll understand."
What would Angel say to repair the situation? Probably a cliche like, "I will *always* want you, Buffy," which Angelus delivered with the most conviction he could muster.
Predictably, that old line worked like a charm. Buffy's lip stopped quivering and she smiled brilliantly. "You don't know what it does to me to hear you say that, Angel."
Well, he had her where he wanted her, and that was when the depressing memories of Buffy and Angel's very boring first (and only) time together surged to the forefront of Angelus' mind. "Vanilla" didn't even begin to describe that night. But really, with some intelligent instruction, how bad could Buffy be?
He was about to find out.
TBC