AUTHOR'S NOTE (1): The original version (NC-17) is available on my website (http://yseultspassion.com).
AUTHOR'S NOTE (2): Characters' thoughts are in italics.

Oz sat on Willow's bed and stared at the wreckage of her room. Whatever had stampeded through here had not been interested in books. Oz pawed through the confused contents and paused when he saw the Pez dispenser. He could still see the excited look on Willow's face when he had given it to her. Willow. There was a horrible ache in his heart. If she hadn't died, he would never have known how deeply he loved her. Oz lay on the bed and inhaled the aroma of perspiration and bodily fluids from their night of lovemaking. I love you, Willow.

Eventually he sat up. Book. He looked under the bed. Yep. Right where I thought. He gathered up the book and Willow's pink fuzzy sweater. He slipped the Pez dispenser into his pocket. The house swayed as a strong tremor rippled through the earth. Time to be gone. He spotted a photo taken at the Prom and added that to the pile in his arms.

When he walked back into the mansion, he was surprised to see the great room resembled Willow's room. Books were scattered, furniture was upturned or broken, and blood stained the floor. Something happened here.

"Buffy? Angel?"

The Slayer walked out of the kitchen with an icepack pressed to her face. She ignored his questioning look and pointed to the bag he was holding. "Did you get it?" she asked.

"Yeah," replied Oz. Buffy had moved the icepack while she spoke. Oz could see the bruise covering her left eye and cheek. "Who lost?" His casual gaze didn't fool her for one minute.

"I'm fine," she shrugged. She didn't want to talk about it. Oz took the hint.

He pulled the spellbook out of the bag and turned the pages. "Here. I'm pretty sure this is the spell Willow used last time." He handed the book to Buffy She read through the listed ingredients and ticked them off in her head. "I grabbed her stash of newts' eyes and frogs' legs and other tasty tidbits," Oz continued. "Between this and Giles' stuff, we should be covered."

Buffy nodded. She glimpsed Willow's sweater peeking out of the bag and touched it. Oz covered her hand with his. "I'm sorry," whispered Buffy. "I'm so sorry. I knew everyone wasn't going to make it, but I never thought…" She began to cry again. It's too much. Too many people. I can't do this. Oz awkwardly rubbed her back; Buffy winced in pain and moved out of his embrace. She walked into the courtyard.

"Oz? Was Wesley already dead when you found him?" she called. The ex-Watcher's body was laying on the cold ground and covered with a sheet. Angel had moved him there earlier.

"Yeah." Oz replied from the great room where he was clearing a space to spread out the ingredients. "Why?"

"Did you know he's got two itty bitty holes in his neck?" There was silence in the great room broken by a mumbled "Oh. Not good." Buffy completely agreed with the standard Oz non-reaction.

Angel prowled the streets of Sunnydale. He was supposed to be on his way to Willy's, but he'd been sidetracked by some of the Mayor's lackeys. He'd managed to squeeze some information out of one unfortunate peon before it was "accidentally" dismembered. Now he was heading to City Hall.

As he walked, he replayed the last two hours. Angel's tenuous hold on the demon had been shattered. The Hellmouth's shenanigans and a semi-nude Slayer had finally serenaded Angelus out of his cell. For twelve very long minutes, Buffy had had to face down a monster intent on rape and murder. Angelus had nearly won. By the time Buffy threw him into the fire, she had bite marks on her breasts and handprints on her thighs. She also had a scar in her groin that matched the one on her neck. Angelus had arrogantly stamped her as his possession.

The flames had scorched the vampire but given Angel a fleeting chance to shove Angelus back into his jail. When he felt like he was back in the driver's seat, Angel had lifted his head and stared into the battered face of his lover. Buffy sat naked against the far wall clutching a stake in her hands.

Angel had picked up Wesley's bloodstained blanket and begun to move towards her. He had approached her slowly, speaking in a soft reassuring voice, and not wiping the tears that flowed from his eyes. Buffy was in shock or worse. He had done this. He had put Buffy in danger because he loved her absolutely.

She silently chanted his name as he drew closer. When he leaned forward to cover, she had screamed "Angelus" and driven the stake into his chest. Luckily for him, she had missed his heart.

The vampire absently rubbed the healing wound on his chest. He could still taste the blood he had taken from her. Her scent was on his skin where his face had burrowed between her legs seeking her life and her sex. In an ironic twist, it was the action of staking Angel that shoved Buffy back into reality. She had swiftly pulled the stake from his chest and looked at him in horror as she tried to cover the hole with her small hand.

"Angel?" She had cradled his head in her lap and gently stroked his face with her fingers. "Angel?"

He could have said a thousand different things that would have made a tense situation worse. Instead he had simply choked out, "Your aim's off," before rolling onto his side in a fit of painful coughing.

She rubbed his back until he was still. Then she asked him how long it would take for him to recover.

"A couple of days," Angel had replied. "How long will it take for you?" And how much longer after that until you trust me again?

Her answer was a flash of the Slayer he knew and loved. "At the rate of your Jekyll and Hyde routine? My whole life or my whole life depending on who I'm dealing with." She sighed heavily. "Angel, if you're gonna heal, you need to feed. I don't think I have the strength to move that far," she added wearily. "Besides, Wesley's creeping me out."

Buffy leaned back against the wall and hesitantly opened her legs so that they formed a V around his head and chest. "Take what you need," she commanded softly.

"No." He had tried to push her away. Her legs closed around him like a steel trap.

"Angel, don't make me force you again. I promise, my aim won't be off." She smiled sadly. "I can't stop this unless you help me. I need you to be whole."

He had lain silently, cradled by her legs, while he considered the wrongness of this idea. He turned it every way in his mind looking for some alternative. There was none; there was also no blood left in the fridge. He had finished it at breakfast. It truly was Buffy or nothing. He didn't want to know how she had managed to find the strength to offer herself again.

"Buffy, I don't want to do this," he whispered before he kissed the bruises on her thighs and traced the wound at her groin. His hands roamed over her abdomen; his fingers twirled the patch of hair at the apex of her legs.

"Shhhhh, Angel, I know. It's okay," she whispered in return as she felt his tears brush over her skin.

He lifted his head and rested his chin on her hip. "It'll hurt less if you lie down." Buffy shifted her body so that she lay on the floor. She lifted her hips as he slid his hands under her buttocks and pulled her closer to his mouth. Buffy tensed as she waited for his fangs to painfully tear again into the artery in her groin. Angel swallowed a few mouthfuls of her healing blood and licked the wound closed. This bite wasn't as deep as the one on her neck, but the demon in him knew the scar would last as long because it was made twice.

When they finally sat up, they exchanged guilty looks at the mess. Angel had sent Buffy to shower while he scrounged clothes for her. When he had showered, he joined her in the kitchen.

"Can we move Wesley?" Buffy had asked as she drank a diet soda. "I'm getting some bad vibes off him. Also? He smells."

Angel lifted Wesley's body out of the chair and carried him to the courtyard. He was covering it with a sheet when he noticed the puncture marks on the throat. When he showed them to Buffy, she silented handed him a stake and went back into the mansion.

He found her staring at the fire. "Somebody knows we're here," said Buffy. "This wasn't a random killing. If it was, they would've gone after Oz. He was in the next room and probably even tastier." She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered in spite of the fire's heat.

"I agree." Angel slipped his arms around his lover. She turned in his embrace. "Buffy, I'm not the only nonhuman feeling the power of the Hellmouth. Maybe we can use that." He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. "It's dark enough for me to walk around," he whispered against her lips. "I could maybe find out what the Mayor's doing next." He felt her stiffen in his arms.

"You mean," she had mumbled into his chest, "you could be Angelus." He had rubbed her back, smoothed her hair, and wisely kept silent. "Sure. Why not? We need to know what's going on. But if you get killed, I'm gonna find a spell that'll bring you back so I can dust you myself." She had hugged him tightly, then abruptly let him go, and resolutely marched into the kitchen.

Angel stood in front of what used to be City Hall. The building was destroyed just like the surrounding structures. His vampiric senses couldn't hear, see, or smell anything moving. The Mayor's gotta be here somewhere. He's a big snake. Not too many places to hide when you're that big.

He did another sweep and still found nothing. Then he realized that was the clue. There was nothing. No sounds, no smells, no colours where there should be sounds, smells, colours. It was as if everything had been sucked into a vacuum. Except for the demon that was bellowing loudly in his body and a nagging voice in his head. Both were saying the same thing: time is running out.