Title: The Pack

Author: Charisma Brendon

Rating: Overall R

Disclaimer: I'm trying to keep this as close to the show without copying word-for-word as I can.

Spoilers: The Pack and possibly any of the five episodes before. But . . . since this is a rewrite, there aren't as many as there could be.

A.N. - This was written especially for Kris's awards so she could start them sooner. Also, the Buffy in this chapter seemed a little like the one in ChloeSarai's fic "When She Was Bad" when I was writing. You can find it on her LJ. Oh, and during the B/A interaction part? I was laughing. :s

Oh, and the thoughts change person...I think you'll be able to tell who's thinking what.

As usual, the Bronze was filled with people. Kids that went to Sunnydale High were mostly sticking to the dance floor while those who were old enough to drink were hanging around the bar. Willow sighed and scanned the room, feeling lonely. After an hour of waiting, Buffy and Xander still hadn't shown up.

She casually stirred the red straw through the fruit drink she'd been staring at for the past ten minutes before scanning the room again. Maybe they're together . . . alone?

"Hey!" Buffy's voice startled her from her thoughts.

Willow jumped when Buffy walked around her and dropped into the seat across from her. "Hey. Where were you?"

Something strange flashed through Buffy's eyes before they became friendly again. "I just ran into a little bit of trouble. No biggie."

Willow nodded with a slight smile. "Was Xander with you?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at Willow's question. "Nope," she answered before leaning forward, "I think you thought we were together."

Buffy stayed close to the table and subtly sniffed the air. She could smell the blood that rushed to Willow's cheeks and it was surprisingly . . . pleasant. She shook her head slightly to clear it.

It took her a moment to realize that Willow was speaking. "Did he seem upset at all on the bus back?"

That weird flash appeared in Buffy's eyes before she shrugged. "I didn't notice anything. Of course, I'm not as hyper-aware of him as, oh, for example, you . . . "

"Hyper-aware?" Willow grimaced.

"Well, I'm not constantly monitoring his moods, his health," Buffy paused before playfully continuing, "his blood pressure."

"One-thirty over eighty," Willow's immediate response was wistful.

Buffy laughed. "You got it bad, girl."

"I'm not the only one!"

"Sorry, Wills, but I think you're the only one Xander-crushing at this table."

"Maybe not Xander," Willow agreed before her tone took on a teasing quality, "What about a dangerous and mysterious older man whose leather jacket you're wearing right now?"

Buffy looked down as if to verify Willow's claim before shrugging dismissively. "It goes with the shoes."

She knew Willow was speaking but all she could focus on were the combined smells of faint peppermint and the cherry from the drink she had just taken a sip of. What's happening to me? Buffy wondered before another scent - How would I know how he smells? - caught her attention. "Angel's here," she whispered, a dazed smile finding its way to her lips despite her confusion.

Willow frowned. "Where?"

"I'll be back." Buffy rose from her chair and moved - stalked - across the edge of the dance floor.

"And again, I'm talking to myself," Willow muttered.

The synchronized strobe-lights flashed over her in time with the pumping music.

Red. Blue. Red. Yellow.

The familiar twinge that usually accompanied Angel's presence flared in the pit of her stomach. She frowned at the difference. Normally, it wasn't this powerful. Or painful.

There he was . . . standing in the shadows, but visible. Waiting for me?

She softly nudged past the couple standing in her path. A hand harshly grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back. "What are you -" she snarled as she was whirled around. "Xander?" Buffy whispered softly.

Xander's dark eyes moved over her face before raising to look past her shoulder. A low growl filled the air. He tugged lightly on her arm and began backing towards the dance floor.

She nodded.

She could feel Angel watching her and - from the savage expression on her friend's face - Xander felt it, too.

Xander pulled her firmly against him and began moving to the music.

Instinct kicked in as the heat his body gave off sank into her. She swayed gently, her arms moving steadily upward until they were lightly clasped around his neck.

Xander's hands were resting comfortably on her hips, fingers digging in and releasing in time with the beat. Buffy molded herself against him, getting as close as she possibly could without pushing him over. She raised her left leg to cling to his hip, continuing to move to the dee-jayed music. In response, his head dropped down and his nose was soon burrowed into the crook of her neck.

She turned suddenly. The movement jarred Xander from his resting place and he growled softly when he saw the reason for the disturbance.

"We need to talk," Angel informed her. The gleam of anger in his eyes brought a pout to her mouth and she walked off the floor without question. The obedience did nothing to sooth Angel's irrational anger at the sight of the boy clinging to her - and trying to keep his face buried in her neck - as she moved.

"There's something weird going on."

"There is?" Buffy tilted her head slightly, giving Xander more room. She whimpered softly when he nipped at her throat.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Angel asked him in annoyance.

Xander released her and made a move forward.

"I'll be fine, Xander," she said softly, her eyes trained on Angel.

He sent a glare Angel's way before he left them to join a stunned Willow.

"What the hell was that?"

"What?" Buffy asked dispassionately, her eyes trained on his ear.

He frowned at the lack of anger his question brought. "What's going on with you?"

She thoughtfully chewed on her bottom lip, which drew his attention to her mouth and away from his ignored question. "You don't smell human."

He suppressed his surprise at that statement. "I don't?"

"So, what's up?" Buffy asked casually, seemingly unembarrassed by her . . . mating ritual.

"Up? We're standing on a hellmouth, bad things are heading this way and y- . . . . Are you looking at my neck?"

"I am." She slowly moved until her face was close enough for him to feel her breath on his neck. She ran her index finger along the pale column of his throat. "You have a nice throat, you know." He heard her soft intakes of breath as she sniffed him, followed by a soft whimper.

She stood on the tips of her toes to reach closer to his ear and whispered, "I wonder if it tastes as good."

Before he could react, Buffy's warm tongue flicked out and traced a small 'A' across his jugular. A growly-moan tore from deep inside his throat.

After realizing that he felt something for her, a moan that sounded suspiciously like a purr escaped from her parted lips. Quickly running her tongue over her lips, she finally pulled away. "Not bad."

His mouth dropped open in shock as she walked away.

He watched her join her friends before he left. Something was definitely wrong with her.

Well, my email alert for reviews was down. So, the only one I could read was from Dogbertcarroll - so, thank you very much for reviewing the first piece of real (or as close to it) Canon that I've written in a while. :)