Buffy explained everything to Willow. She told Willow how he came back a
month ago, and how she was bringing him blood every week. She told Willow
everything he had said to her, and she told Willow that she had fucked him
the night before. And when she finally told Willow everything, Buffy sat
and waited for Willow to process everything.
"Oh, god," said Willow, not sure what else to say. "Oh, god. You have to tell Giles."
"I know," said Buffy. "And I will. I just can't. Not yet." Buffy leaned against a desk. "I know I should have told you when he first came back, I wanted to, so badly, but I was so confused. I didn't know what to do. I felt so tied up in side. But then after last night, I felt I had to tell someone, or I would explode."
Willow looked away. She was quiet for a moment, then said quietly, "Has he hurt you?"
Buffy closed her eyes. Angelus had hurt her in everywhere possible, ways that she didn't think Willow could ever comprehend. "You mean emotionally or physically?" She didn't wait for an answer. "He's said so many things to me, he's done so many things, all of which have hurt." She paused to take a deep breath. "And we've fought. And then last night, that hurt the most. He made me want him, even when I knew it was wrong, even though I love Angel. And then afterward, I thought maybe it had changed things, but everything was the same, except that now he has control over me. He could snap his fingers and I'd be there." She took another breath and blinked back the tears. "And you know why? Because part of me wants it, wants him. Because everything he said is true." Buffy looked up and blinked, but slowly tears began to leak out of her eyes. "What am I going to do Will? What am I going to do?"
"I don't know," said Willow. And she truly didn't.
~
Angel stretched languidly in his bed, reveling in the way it felt to wake up with out being chained to a wall. He smiled. Taking an unneeded breath, he filled his lungs with the stale air of his room. No one had been in there for months, and dust created thick blankets on everything. When he had returned to the mansion, moments before dawn, he had gone strait to his bedroom, the largest one the place, and looked around. The bed had been unmade, and there were dead roses covering the dresser.
Angel had gone to move the roses, pricking his finger in the process. Rich, red blood spouted from the pinprick. Angel looked up to the mirror, and wasn't surprised not to see his reflection. He lifted his finger to the glass and wrote Buffy's name in his -her- blood. He looked at it and smiled, then licked the remaining blood from his finger.
~
Buffy had managed to get out of training with Giles easily, complaining that it was that time of the month and she had cramps. In reality she was still a little sore and she didn't want to change into an outfit that wouldn't cover her bruises and scar, reminders of last night. She had gone home and actually attempted to do her homework, hoping to get her mind off of the horrible direction her life was going in.
After and hour, she gave up and put her books away. There were still a few hours till sun down, and she needed to pass the time. She changed and grabbed two stakes, tucking one into her coat pocket, and slid the other into a belt loop on her jeans. Then out of habit, she climbed out her window.
~
Buffy opened the door to Angel's basement apartment. She walked in and shut the door quietly, and leaned back against it. She could feel the cold, hard texture of the door though her jacket. Her hand tapped against it, her rings clanging as they hit. She looked around. Nothing had changed. She hadn't been here since the day after her and Angel made love, and no one had been here since. Thick layers of dust covered everything, and the air was stale. The bed was unmade.
Buffy took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and pushed off the door. She felt as if she were visiting a gravesite, a grave of someone she loved. And in a way, she was. This was the place she had lost too many thing- her virginity, her innocence, her love.
She walked past the bureau and ran her fingers across the top, collecting dust and leaving a shiny streak in their wake. She blew on her fingers and watched as the dust scattered into the air, mixing, floating, and eventually, falling to the ground. She turned on the lamp to her right, the added light creating shadows in the corners. Buffy made her way around the room, looking, touching, remembering. She stopped at the bed.
The bed. Buffy gently ran her fingers over the red silk sheets, remembering how cool they felt against her skin. And how cool Angel's body had been. Hers had been hot, her blood boiling. Fire and ice. She began pulling the sheets and comforter off the bed, placing them in a heap on the floor. She walked to the bureau and pulled out new sheets, realizing that there were only a few shirts and a pair of pants left. Buffy pulled out a shirt, a black, button up, satin one, along with the sheets and began to make the bed.
Once she was done, she laid down, clutching the shirt between her fingers. She remembered what it had felt like to be laying here, with Angel next to her, holding her, while she slept. She remembered each time he whispered "I love you" in her ear, and that she had said it back each time. She remembered everything she dreamed about, only now they seemed more real. Angel seemed closer to her than ever since he had turned.
Buffy closed her eyes and breathed in his scent on the sheets and shirt as she drifted off to sleep, a single tear running down her cheek.
~
Angel ran his fingers over her cheek. "Buuufffyyyy," he whispered into her ear. "Buuufffyyyy." His voice became more persistent as he continued. "Buffy." He moved his fingers from her cheek to trace her lips.
Buffy was almost awake. She could hear and feel, but her mind wasn't comprehending any of it in its dream state. She fought to wake, but her eyes didn't want to open. Slowly, the dream world left her mind and reality came upon her. Her vision was blurry and she blinked. Then she pushed Angel off her and rolled off the bed into a fighting stance, tumbling the shirt to the floor in the process.
"What do you want?" asked Buffy. Her muscles where still stiff from sleeping.
Angel laughed. "I thought we made that clear last night, silly. I want you." He waggled a finger at her.
"Well, you can't have me, not now, not ever again," she said. Buffy figure if she said the words, she might be able to convince herself.
"You say that, but you don't mean it. I know what you feel," he said. "I can read it all over your face. And I can smell it on you."
"Shut up," she yelled. "Shut the hell up." She could feel the little threads of control she had left breaking. Her body began to tremble, and hot tears stung the back of her eyes. "You don't know anything about feeling. You don't know how to love, or to care. You can't." She blinked back her tears. "And I hate, I hate, that you can make me want you. And I hate that I let you touch me." The tears began to fall, dripping from her eyes down her cheeks. She sobbed, "And I hate most of all that I didn't kill you. You said that I needed you, and a little part of me does, but a bigger part can live without you. A bigger part loves Angel too much."
Angel began to speak. "Buffy.Buffy." He made is voice soft, like Angel's, figuring it would calm her, maybe trick her into surrendering to him.
It only enraged her. "Stop it," she yelled. "Stop saying my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you care." She spat out the words like they were poison. Her voice didn't sound like it belonged to her any more. All the anger and hurt that had been inside her had finally come out. "You don't care. You take, you destroy, and you manipulate, but you don't care. You don't care if you break me as long as I still come crawling back, as long as you still have a hold on me. But you don't, not anymore." She sniffed. "I haven't killed you because I had this idea that Angel was coming back. But I know now that he isn't, and that you're not him." She looked him strait in the eye. "You'll never be him, you'll never be half as good as he was."
Anegl was about to speak again, but she cut him off. "You love that you get to me, that you turn me on, because you know how much it hurts. Well, you've done it. You got what you wanted." Her last words held no feeling; her voice was cold and empty, like her heart and her soul. She looked at him, just long enough to see the utter shock on his face before she turned and ran out.
~
Angelus wanted to kick himself. More though, he wanted to kick the voice in his head that was saying, "You finally broke her. Are you happy now?" And he should be happy. It was his nature to be happy at other's pain. But he wasn't happy. He didn't want Buffy broken, he didn't want her dead, he didn't want her turned, and he didn't want her moping over Angel. He wanted her feisty and sarcastic, and wanting him. He wanted her to want him and not pretend he was Angel, he wanted her to know that Angel was never coming back, that she was stuck with him.
A small part of him wanted her to love him.
But only to hurt her, he told himself.
But he had most likely just ruined all chances he had of getting those things. He knew he had to do something to change what was happening. And he hated the one idea that popped into his head.
~
Buffy ran home, crying the whole time. She had willed the tears to stop, begged them, but they preceded to fall, running from her eyes, to her cheeks, then to kiss her lips, and die on her chin. Hot, stinging tears that left glistening trails on her face that sparkled in the moonlight as she ran. Buffy knew she must look like an idiot, but she didn't care.
She continued to run until she reached her room. She climbed in her window, even though her mother was gone. She collapsed onto her bed and buried her head in her pillows.
When Buffy took a second to think about why she was crying, she realized she didn't have an answer. She just felt so confused, and so alone. And she missed Angel so much. And seeing Angelus reminded her of all the good times, as well as the bad. And she was mad at herself for wanting Angelus, and mad at him for taking Angel away from her. She needed to work things out, to clear her head.
But right now she needed to sleep. She managed to stop her sobs and close her eyes.
~
Angel climbed up the oak tree outside Buffy's window and sat on the windowsill. Buffy looked beautiful when she slept. She looked so peaceful and innocent and soft and delicate. All the things she wasn't when she fought.
Angel watched her for what seemed like hours, and it could have been. Then slowly, he crept into the room, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. Angel swept a strand of blond hair off her face, and she moaned. He froze, but she only moved lightly in her sleep.
"Buffy," he said softly. "Buffy, wake up." He gently nudged her and he could feel her begin to wake up. "Hey, Buff." Her eyes opened and her immediately placed his hand over her mouth. "Sshh," he said. "You don't want to wake your mom, do you?" he asked. His tone was taunting, and he cringed. He wasn't here to be cruel.
Buffy shook her head and Angel removed his hand. "She's not here," she said. "Now leave or I'll kill you." Her voice was empty, void of feeling.
"I'm not here to fight." Buffy gave him a questioning look. "I have some things I need to say to you. Everything you said before was true." He took Buffy's hand, but she pulled away and moved to the other side of the bed. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm not capably of feeling love, Buffy, at least not the type of love you and Angel shared. But I don't have to be cruel." Angel moved closer to her. He took her hand again, but this time she didn't try to pull away. "We're stuck Buffy. We need each other, but we can't truly have each other, for too many reasons. And one is that we don't love each other."
As he said the words, Buffy felt something in her heart die. Did she wish that Angelus loved her? She couldn't.
"You love Angel, and I'll never be him." He stroked her arm with one hand while he massaged small circles into her palm with the other. "But I can be gentle. And we can be together, and it can be nice." He cupped her cheek and she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. "I don't want to hurt you, Buffy. I hated seeing you cry this afternoon. But I need you to know that I can't, won't, be him. I'm not going to stop feeding or stay hidden. I'm not going to make love to you." As he spoke, she opened her eyes.
"I know," she said. "I know you're not him. And that kills me. But when you're like this, I know that a part of him is still in you." She got up and kneeled in front of him. His head was right in front of her breasts. She slid her hands into his silky dark hair and tilted his head back. She looked into his chocolately, soulless eyes. "And when you're like this, I want you." She bent down and kissed him. It was light, her lips barely touching his. When she pulled away, she pressed his cheek to her body. He brought his hands around to her back.
Angel sighed. He was going to loose himself in her. She was soft, like silk and velvet. He knew if he didn't regain control, he would make love to her, the one thing he swore he wouldn't do. Illicit sex, yes, but making love, no. He slid his hands down onto her derriere, and began to lay her down on the bed.
Once their clothes were gone, thrown in heaps on the floor, Angel looked at her in the dim light of the moon as it shown from behind the clouds into her bedroom. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling with the steady fast pace of her heartbeat. Angel wanted to kiss every inch of her soft golden body, but he wouldn't allow himself the luxury, at least not now. If things went the way he hoped, he'd get to spend many more nights in her bed.
He hated himself already for being so nice to her. Sure, sex with her was great, perfect even, but he didn't want to go slow. He wanted to ravage her, to take her hard and fast, leaving her unsure of what had just happened. He wanted to hurt her with pain while killing her with pleasure. And he wanted her to love it. As a demon, soulless and heartless, his duty was to destroy, to bring pain to people's lives and feed off their fear. He didn't bring pleasure and content, exactly what he was doing now as he pleasured the Slayer.
As their bodies moved together, Angel kissed her lips deeply and brutally, but not without burning passion. He had to let her know that it was desire that fueled his actions, not love. He nipped at her lips, drawing drops of warm, rich crimson blood. His hands ravaged her body, roughly massaging her skin. But despite his rough play, his body moved gently to her, not invading or pushing.
As pleasure overcame them, Angel grunted and felt his face transform. He licked the soft layer of skin over her jugular, the two tiny scares that had not yet fully healed. He slowly sunk his teeth into her, and she clung to him, his name slipping from her lips as her body quaked with ecstasy, yearning for release. Her blood flowed over his tongue like liquid silk, sweet and rich. He continued to drink form her until he felt her body relax. Her rolled off her, his face returning to normal as he looked up at the ceiling.
Neither spoke, the only sound was the light breaths coming from between her lips, and her heartbeat. Angel knew she was asleep. He slipped from the bed and dressed quickly. Then, he found a piece of paper on her desk and wrote her a short note, before slipping from her room and into the night.
~
When Buffy woke the next morning, thunder cracked outside her window like a leather whip hitting flesh. Moments later, bright light shattered the darkness and lit up her room. She could hear the rain splattering on her window. Buffy shifted in her bed, trying to fall back asleep, but sleep escaped her. She walked dreamily toward her window, the flashes of lightning her only way of seeing. She parted the white drapes and looked out into the dark recesses of early morning. She could barely see the trees out her window, rain and fog distorting her vision.
She looked back at the clock on her nightstand. The red numbers blinked 5:36; the sun was due to rise in just under an hour. When most of your daily activities dealt with the sun and moon, you learned to keep track of the rising and setting times.
Buffy moved back toward her bed. She sat down, moving the sheets so she wouldn't rip them. She lay her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and realized her bed still smelled like him.
Her mind reeled. She wanted to burst out-crying, laughing, yelling, fighting, she didn't know. But too many emotions were filing her, like water overflowing a dam, and there was no way to stop it. She sat up, and punched her pillow, hard, making a hole, and sending feathers around her like snow. But she didn't feel any better.
She showered, even thought it failed to do anything other than rinse him from her body. She scrubbed, rubbed until her skin was raw, trying to remove him from her body, heart, and soul. But as she washed her hair, she imagined that it was Angel's fingers massaging her scalp in gyrating movements, that he was there, watching the water run over her. But it was she alone. She wrapped a towel around her body and walked down the hallway to her room.
As she closed the door behind her, her towel got caught in the door. She turned to pull it out and her eyes caught on a piece of paper on her desk. She walked over and picked it up. She knew instantly, that it was from him. She hesitantly unfolded it, afraid of what she might find inside. His handwriting was looping cursive, old, and beautiful. She read it once to herself, then out loud.
Buffy, I didn't want to wake you, but this doesn't change anything. I'll be around. Angel
Buffy was surprised to see that he hadn't signed it Angelus, but Angel. She folded the paper again and placed it in the top drawer of her desk not letting herself think about it.
~
Angel and Spike stayed out of sight for two weeks. Buffy didn't see them anywhere. She had stopped by the mansion twice and neither had been there and the lpaced looked like it hadn't been lived in for years, and technically it hadn't. Buffy didn't see either vampire while patrolling. Amazingly, there was no increase in death rate. Buffy would have thought they had left town. Except for the single white rose she found on her pillow each morning when she woke up. She began placing them in vase by her window, but the first ones were beginning to wilt.
Giles and Xander still were in the dark about Angel. Buffy knew she would tell them, and she want to, but she knew what they would do. Angelus had tortured Giles mercilessly. He had killed Jenny Calendar, Giles's true love, and cause Giles more pain than Buffy wanted him to ever feel. Giles would be the first to want to kill Angel.
Buffy's life went on as normal. She went to school, patrolled, and slept. But she also looked behind her shoulder more. Spike could show up anywhere, at any time. With the Gem in hand, he could walk around in daylight and kill, and she could kill him. Angel had her by a rope-one pull and she was his.
But right now, she had to keep them a secret and deal with her problems on her own, no matter how much pain in caused her. And the easiest way to deal with it was to slay. She spent most of her nights killing vampires; right now she was at her peak. Giles even noticed that she was killing more vamps in one night than she normally did in some weeks.
Buffy walked through one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries, her eyes and ears open. She was ready for anything to jump out at her. She made her way past rows of graves, most of them faded, revealing their age. Moss and vines grew up the side of some, while others were plant free. Some even had fresh flowers at the bases. When Buffy reached the last one, she read the inscription. "Angelena Carso, 1955-1956. Our Beloved Baby." Buffy wanted to cry. Too many people died too young. She moved on. She walked another mile through the fairly large cemetery, stopping once and a while to read the graves and killing two vamps.
When she was about to leave, she felt it. She turned. About fifty feet away, in the glow of the moon, was Angel, his arm around the waist as a girl, his face in her neck. Buffy ran. Her lungs burned and threatened to burst, but she didn't slow until she landed a jump kick in Angel's side. He tumbled backward and the girl hit the ground, her eyes half open, blood dripping from her neck. Buffy dropped to help the girl, but was instantly pulled up.
Angel's hand closed around her neck. She looked at his face-eyes yellow, red blood at the corners of his mouth- and she saw her death. "What the hell do you thing you're doing, Slayer?" As he spoke he tightened his grip, and Buffy realized he was holding her off the ground. She fought to answer, to breathe, but she couldn't. "I'll ask a again. What are you doing?" His hand tightened again and Buffy felt herself blacking out.
The ground brought her back to consciousness. Angel let go of her and she fell. She landed hard on her ass, and she knew she'd have a bruise. She still wasn't eating as much, and as a result, her skin bruised very easily now. Angel stood towering over her. She leaned back, sending her legs over her head, then rolled up into a fight stance.
"You were going to kill that girl," said Buffy.
"She's not dead, yet," said Angel. His face returned to normal. "Plus, I never said I was going to stop feeding."
"There's a difference between feeding and killing. What I just saw you doing, that was killing." Below her, the girl groaned, and Buffy dropped to her knees. "I need to get her t a hospital."
"Where not done here, Buff," protested Angel.
"Look, if I don't get her some medical attention, she's going to die. Let me take her to a hospital." She looked at her watch. "Be at my house at midnight. We'll finish this then." Buffy didn't wait for an answer. She helped the girl up, and together they stumbled out of cemetery.
"Buff," Angel started angrily, but it was futile. He sighed and walked into the darkness.
~
Buffy waited. She waited until one thirty before she decided he wasn't going to come.
"Oh, god," said Willow, not sure what else to say. "Oh, god. You have to tell Giles."
"I know," said Buffy. "And I will. I just can't. Not yet." Buffy leaned against a desk. "I know I should have told you when he first came back, I wanted to, so badly, but I was so confused. I didn't know what to do. I felt so tied up in side. But then after last night, I felt I had to tell someone, or I would explode."
Willow looked away. She was quiet for a moment, then said quietly, "Has he hurt you?"
Buffy closed her eyes. Angelus had hurt her in everywhere possible, ways that she didn't think Willow could ever comprehend. "You mean emotionally or physically?" She didn't wait for an answer. "He's said so many things to me, he's done so many things, all of which have hurt." She paused to take a deep breath. "And we've fought. And then last night, that hurt the most. He made me want him, even when I knew it was wrong, even though I love Angel. And then afterward, I thought maybe it had changed things, but everything was the same, except that now he has control over me. He could snap his fingers and I'd be there." She took another breath and blinked back the tears. "And you know why? Because part of me wants it, wants him. Because everything he said is true." Buffy looked up and blinked, but slowly tears began to leak out of her eyes. "What am I going to do Will? What am I going to do?"
"I don't know," said Willow. And she truly didn't.
~
Angel stretched languidly in his bed, reveling in the way it felt to wake up with out being chained to a wall. He smiled. Taking an unneeded breath, he filled his lungs with the stale air of his room. No one had been in there for months, and dust created thick blankets on everything. When he had returned to the mansion, moments before dawn, he had gone strait to his bedroom, the largest one the place, and looked around. The bed had been unmade, and there were dead roses covering the dresser.
Angel had gone to move the roses, pricking his finger in the process. Rich, red blood spouted from the pinprick. Angel looked up to the mirror, and wasn't surprised not to see his reflection. He lifted his finger to the glass and wrote Buffy's name in his -her- blood. He looked at it and smiled, then licked the remaining blood from his finger.
~
Buffy had managed to get out of training with Giles easily, complaining that it was that time of the month and she had cramps. In reality she was still a little sore and she didn't want to change into an outfit that wouldn't cover her bruises and scar, reminders of last night. She had gone home and actually attempted to do her homework, hoping to get her mind off of the horrible direction her life was going in.
After and hour, she gave up and put her books away. There were still a few hours till sun down, and she needed to pass the time. She changed and grabbed two stakes, tucking one into her coat pocket, and slid the other into a belt loop on her jeans. Then out of habit, she climbed out her window.
~
Buffy opened the door to Angel's basement apartment. She walked in and shut the door quietly, and leaned back against it. She could feel the cold, hard texture of the door though her jacket. Her hand tapped against it, her rings clanging as they hit. She looked around. Nothing had changed. She hadn't been here since the day after her and Angel made love, and no one had been here since. Thick layers of dust covered everything, and the air was stale. The bed was unmade.
Buffy took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and pushed off the door. She felt as if she were visiting a gravesite, a grave of someone she loved. And in a way, she was. This was the place she had lost too many thing- her virginity, her innocence, her love.
She walked past the bureau and ran her fingers across the top, collecting dust and leaving a shiny streak in their wake. She blew on her fingers and watched as the dust scattered into the air, mixing, floating, and eventually, falling to the ground. She turned on the lamp to her right, the added light creating shadows in the corners. Buffy made her way around the room, looking, touching, remembering. She stopped at the bed.
The bed. Buffy gently ran her fingers over the red silk sheets, remembering how cool they felt against her skin. And how cool Angel's body had been. Hers had been hot, her blood boiling. Fire and ice. She began pulling the sheets and comforter off the bed, placing them in a heap on the floor. She walked to the bureau and pulled out new sheets, realizing that there were only a few shirts and a pair of pants left. Buffy pulled out a shirt, a black, button up, satin one, along with the sheets and began to make the bed.
Once she was done, she laid down, clutching the shirt between her fingers. She remembered what it had felt like to be laying here, with Angel next to her, holding her, while she slept. She remembered each time he whispered "I love you" in her ear, and that she had said it back each time. She remembered everything she dreamed about, only now they seemed more real. Angel seemed closer to her than ever since he had turned.
Buffy closed her eyes and breathed in his scent on the sheets and shirt as she drifted off to sleep, a single tear running down her cheek.
~
Angel ran his fingers over her cheek. "Buuufffyyyy," he whispered into her ear. "Buuufffyyyy." His voice became more persistent as he continued. "Buffy." He moved his fingers from her cheek to trace her lips.
Buffy was almost awake. She could hear and feel, but her mind wasn't comprehending any of it in its dream state. She fought to wake, but her eyes didn't want to open. Slowly, the dream world left her mind and reality came upon her. Her vision was blurry and she blinked. Then she pushed Angel off her and rolled off the bed into a fighting stance, tumbling the shirt to the floor in the process.
"What do you want?" asked Buffy. Her muscles where still stiff from sleeping.
Angel laughed. "I thought we made that clear last night, silly. I want you." He waggled a finger at her.
"Well, you can't have me, not now, not ever again," she said. Buffy figure if she said the words, she might be able to convince herself.
"You say that, but you don't mean it. I know what you feel," he said. "I can read it all over your face. And I can smell it on you."
"Shut up," she yelled. "Shut the hell up." She could feel the little threads of control she had left breaking. Her body began to tremble, and hot tears stung the back of her eyes. "You don't know anything about feeling. You don't know how to love, or to care. You can't." She blinked back her tears. "And I hate, I hate, that you can make me want you. And I hate that I let you touch me." The tears began to fall, dripping from her eyes down her cheeks. She sobbed, "And I hate most of all that I didn't kill you. You said that I needed you, and a little part of me does, but a bigger part can live without you. A bigger part loves Angel too much."
Angel began to speak. "Buffy.Buffy." He made is voice soft, like Angel's, figuring it would calm her, maybe trick her into surrendering to him.
It only enraged her. "Stop it," she yelled. "Stop saying my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you care." She spat out the words like they were poison. Her voice didn't sound like it belonged to her any more. All the anger and hurt that had been inside her had finally come out. "You don't care. You take, you destroy, and you manipulate, but you don't care. You don't care if you break me as long as I still come crawling back, as long as you still have a hold on me. But you don't, not anymore." She sniffed. "I haven't killed you because I had this idea that Angel was coming back. But I know now that he isn't, and that you're not him." She looked him strait in the eye. "You'll never be him, you'll never be half as good as he was."
Anegl was about to speak again, but she cut him off. "You love that you get to me, that you turn me on, because you know how much it hurts. Well, you've done it. You got what you wanted." Her last words held no feeling; her voice was cold and empty, like her heart and her soul. She looked at him, just long enough to see the utter shock on his face before she turned and ran out.
~
Angelus wanted to kick himself. More though, he wanted to kick the voice in his head that was saying, "You finally broke her. Are you happy now?" And he should be happy. It was his nature to be happy at other's pain. But he wasn't happy. He didn't want Buffy broken, he didn't want her dead, he didn't want her turned, and he didn't want her moping over Angel. He wanted her feisty and sarcastic, and wanting him. He wanted her to want him and not pretend he was Angel, he wanted her to know that Angel was never coming back, that she was stuck with him.
A small part of him wanted her to love him.
But only to hurt her, he told himself.
But he had most likely just ruined all chances he had of getting those things. He knew he had to do something to change what was happening. And he hated the one idea that popped into his head.
~
Buffy ran home, crying the whole time. She had willed the tears to stop, begged them, but they preceded to fall, running from her eyes, to her cheeks, then to kiss her lips, and die on her chin. Hot, stinging tears that left glistening trails on her face that sparkled in the moonlight as she ran. Buffy knew she must look like an idiot, but she didn't care.
She continued to run until she reached her room. She climbed in her window, even though her mother was gone. She collapsed onto her bed and buried her head in her pillows.
When Buffy took a second to think about why she was crying, she realized she didn't have an answer. She just felt so confused, and so alone. And she missed Angel so much. And seeing Angelus reminded her of all the good times, as well as the bad. And she was mad at herself for wanting Angelus, and mad at him for taking Angel away from her. She needed to work things out, to clear her head.
But right now she needed to sleep. She managed to stop her sobs and close her eyes.
~
Angel climbed up the oak tree outside Buffy's window and sat on the windowsill. Buffy looked beautiful when she slept. She looked so peaceful and innocent and soft and delicate. All the things she wasn't when she fought.
Angel watched her for what seemed like hours, and it could have been. Then slowly, he crept into the room, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. Angel swept a strand of blond hair off her face, and she moaned. He froze, but she only moved lightly in her sleep.
"Buffy," he said softly. "Buffy, wake up." He gently nudged her and he could feel her begin to wake up. "Hey, Buff." Her eyes opened and her immediately placed his hand over her mouth. "Sshh," he said. "You don't want to wake your mom, do you?" he asked. His tone was taunting, and he cringed. He wasn't here to be cruel.
Buffy shook her head and Angel removed his hand. "She's not here," she said. "Now leave or I'll kill you." Her voice was empty, void of feeling.
"I'm not here to fight." Buffy gave him a questioning look. "I have some things I need to say to you. Everything you said before was true." He took Buffy's hand, but she pulled away and moved to the other side of the bed. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm not capably of feeling love, Buffy, at least not the type of love you and Angel shared. But I don't have to be cruel." Angel moved closer to her. He took her hand again, but this time she didn't try to pull away. "We're stuck Buffy. We need each other, but we can't truly have each other, for too many reasons. And one is that we don't love each other."
As he said the words, Buffy felt something in her heart die. Did she wish that Angelus loved her? She couldn't.
"You love Angel, and I'll never be him." He stroked her arm with one hand while he massaged small circles into her palm with the other. "But I can be gentle. And we can be together, and it can be nice." He cupped her cheek and she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. "I don't want to hurt you, Buffy. I hated seeing you cry this afternoon. But I need you to know that I can't, won't, be him. I'm not going to stop feeding or stay hidden. I'm not going to make love to you." As he spoke, she opened her eyes.
"I know," she said. "I know you're not him. And that kills me. But when you're like this, I know that a part of him is still in you." She got up and kneeled in front of him. His head was right in front of her breasts. She slid her hands into his silky dark hair and tilted his head back. She looked into his chocolately, soulless eyes. "And when you're like this, I want you." She bent down and kissed him. It was light, her lips barely touching his. When she pulled away, she pressed his cheek to her body. He brought his hands around to her back.
Angel sighed. He was going to loose himself in her. She was soft, like silk and velvet. He knew if he didn't regain control, he would make love to her, the one thing he swore he wouldn't do. Illicit sex, yes, but making love, no. He slid his hands down onto her derriere, and began to lay her down on the bed.
Once their clothes were gone, thrown in heaps on the floor, Angel looked at her in the dim light of the moon as it shown from behind the clouds into her bedroom. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling with the steady fast pace of her heartbeat. Angel wanted to kiss every inch of her soft golden body, but he wouldn't allow himself the luxury, at least not now. If things went the way he hoped, he'd get to spend many more nights in her bed.
He hated himself already for being so nice to her. Sure, sex with her was great, perfect even, but he didn't want to go slow. He wanted to ravage her, to take her hard and fast, leaving her unsure of what had just happened. He wanted to hurt her with pain while killing her with pleasure. And he wanted her to love it. As a demon, soulless and heartless, his duty was to destroy, to bring pain to people's lives and feed off their fear. He didn't bring pleasure and content, exactly what he was doing now as he pleasured the Slayer.
As their bodies moved together, Angel kissed her lips deeply and brutally, but not without burning passion. He had to let her know that it was desire that fueled his actions, not love. He nipped at her lips, drawing drops of warm, rich crimson blood. His hands ravaged her body, roughly massaging her skin. But despite his rough play, his body moved gently to her, not invading or pushing.
As pleasure overcame them, Angel grunted and felt his face transform. He licked the soft layer of skin over her jugular, the two tiny scares that had not yet fully healed. He slowly sunk his teeth into her, and she clung to him, his name slipping from her lips as her body quaked with ecstasy, yearning for release. Her blood flowed over his tongue like liquid silk, sweet and rich. He continued to drink form her until he felt her body relax. Her rolled off her, his face returning to normal as he looked up at the ceiling.
Neither spoke, the only sound was the light breaths coming from between her lips, and her heartbeat. Angel knew she was asleep. He slipped from the bed and dressed quickly. Then, he found a piece of paper on her desk and wrote her a short note, before slipping from her room and into the night.
~
When Buffy woke the next morning, thunder cracked outside her window like a leather whip hitting flesh. Moments later, bright light shattered the darkness and lit up her room. She could hear the rain splattering on her window. Buffy shifted in her bed, trying to fall back asleep, but sleep escaped her. She walked dreamily toward her window, the flashes of lightning her only way of seeing. She parted the white drapes and looked out into the dark recesses of early morning. She could barely see the trees out her window, rain and fog distorting her vision.
She looked back at the clock on her nightstand. The red numbers blinked 5:36; the sun was due to rise in just under an hour. When most of your daily activities dealt with the sun and moon, you learned to keep track of the rising and setting times.
Buffy moved back toward her bed. She sat down, moving the sheets so she wouldn't rip them. She lay her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and realized her bed still smelled like him.
Her mind reeled. She wanted to burst out-crying, laughing, yelling, fighting, she didn't know. But too many emotions were filing her, like water overflowing a dam, and there was no way to stop it. She sat up, and punched her pillow, hard, making a hole, and sending feathers around her like snow. But she didn't feel any better.
She showered, even thought it failed to do anything other than rinse him from her body. She scrubbed, rubbed until her skin was raw, trying to remove him from her body, heart, and soul. But as she washed her hair, she imagined that it was Angel's fingers massaging her scalp in gyrating movements, that he was there, watching the water run over her. But it was she alone. She wrapped a towel around her body and walked down the hallway to her room.
As she closed the door behind her, her towel got caught in the door. She turned to pull it out and her eyes caught on a piece of paper on her desk. She walked over and picked it up. She knew instantly, that it was from him. She hesitantly unfolded it, afraid of what she might find inside. His handwriting was looping cursive, old, and beautiful. She read it once to herself, then out loud.
Buffy, I didn't want to wake you, but this doesn't change anything. I'll be around. Angel
Buffy was surprised to see that he hadn't signed it Angelus, but Angel. She folded the paper again and placed it in the top drawer of her desk not letting herself think about it.
~
Angel and Spike stayed out of sight for two weeks. Buffy didn't see them anywhere. She had stopped by the mansion twice and neither had been there and the lpaced looked like it hadn't been lived in for years, and technically it hadn't. Buffy didn't see either vampire while patrolling. Amazingly, there was no increase in death rate. Buffy would have thought they had left town. Except for the single white rose she found on her pillow each morning when she woke up. She began placing them in vase by her window, but the first ones were beginning to wilt.
Giles and Xander still were in the dark about Angel. Buffy knew she would tell them, and she want to, but she knew what they would do. Angelus had tortured Giles mercilessly. He had killed Jenny Calendar, Giles's true love, and cause Giles more pain than Buffy wanted him to ever feel. Giles would be the first to want to kill Angel.
Buffy's life went on as normal. She went to school, patrolled, and slept. But she also looked behind her shoulder more. Spike could show up anywhere, at any time. With the Gem in hand, he could walk around in daylight and kill, and she could kill him. Angel had her by a rope-one pull and she was his.
But right now, she had to keep them a secret and deal with her problems on her own, no matter how much pain in caused her. And the easiest way to deal with it was to slay. She spent most of her nights killing vampires; right now she was at her peak. Giles even noticed that she was killing more vamps in one night than she normally did in some weeks.
Buffy walked through one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries, her eyes and ears open. She was ready for anything to jump out at her. She made her way past rows of graves, most of them faded, revealing their age. Moss and vines grew up the side of some, while others were plant free. Some even had fresh flowers at the bases. When Buffy reached the last one, she read the inscription. "Angelena Carso, 1955-1956. Our Beloved Baby." Buffy wanted to cry. Too many people died too young. She moved on. She walked another mile through the fairly large cemetery, stopping once and a while to read the graves and killing two vamps.
When she was about to leave, she felt it. She turned. About fifty feet away, in the glow of the moon, was Angel, his arm around the waist as a girl, his face in her neck. Buffy ran. Her lungs burned and threatened to burst, but she didn't slow until she landed a jump kick in Angel's side. He tumbled backward and the girl hit the ground, her eyes half open, blood dripping from her neck. Buffy dropped to help the girl, but was instantly pulled up.
Angel's hand closed around her neck. She looked at his face-eyes yellow, red blood at the corners of his mouth- and she saw her death. "What the hell do you thing you're doing, Slayer?" As he spoke he tightened his grip, and Buffy realized he was holding her off the ground. She fought to answer, to breathe, but she couldn't. "I'll ask a again. What are you doing?" His hand tightened again and Buffy felt herself blacking out.
The ground brought her back to consciousness. Angel let go of her and she fell. She landed hard on her ass, and she knew she'd have a bruise. She still wasn't eating as much, and as a result, her skin bruised very easily now. Angel stood towering over her. She leaned back, sending her legs over her head, then rolled up into a fight stance.
"You were going to kill that girl," said Buffy.
"She's not dead, yet," said Angel. His face returned to normal. "Plus, I never said I was going to stop feeding."
"There's a difference between feeding and killing. What I just saw you doing, that was killing." Below her, the girl groaned, and Buffy dropped to her knees. "I need to get her t a hospital."
"Where not done here, Buff," protested Angel.
"Look, if I don't get her some medical attention, she's going to die. Let me take her to a hospital." She looked at her watch. "Be at my house at midnight. We'll finish this then." Buffy didn't wait for an answer. She helped the girl up, and together they stumbled out of cemetery.
"Buff," Angel started angrily, but it was futile. He sighed and walked into the darkness.
~
Buffy waited. She waited until one thirty before she decided he wasn't going to come.