Author's Note – The full 'adult' version of this chapter is available at foreverfandom dot net for those

over the age of consent (just go to author's and look for D M Evans for my listing)

CHAPTER TWO

Faith licked the salty sweat running along Rom's spine, deciding his 'in-between rounds' breather was over. Rom had more stamina than any man she had ever met. Teenagers could get it up a lot but couldn't last. That's where older men had it all over them. Rom was good for a couple of long rounds, which was far more satisfying. Faith didn't know when she developed a preference for slightly older men but Rom was all she could hope for. Faith collapsed down onto the bed with him. A giggle escaped her lips. She wasn't the giggly type but Rom made her feel different. "That was fun."

"Oh, yeah." Rom stroked her arm, his fingers lingering over her tattoo. "Can you stay for a while?"

Faith glanced at the heavily curtained window. It was almost noon. She had no pressing plans like school, which would have struck her as sad if she had cared about such things. "Sure."

"I can't see you again until Tuesday." He kissed her forehead.

Usually she didn't like being kissed and held. It was too close to being relationship-like, too close to emotions. It scared her but with Rom she allowed it and she was surprisingly disappointed by his announcement. What was up with her? "Okay." She heard the emotion in her voice and was embarrassed by it.

He kissed her again. "It's nothing to do with you, babe. I have to go out of town for a couple of days, personal stuff."

"No problem. I've got a lot of stuff to keep me busy," Faith said, hoping he wouldn't take that as an opening and ask her about it. She should have kept her mouth shut.

"I hope it doesn't mean you have to run off this minute." Rom cupped her buttocks.

Faith smiled at him. "Not at all."

Buffy bounced into Angel's mansion in high spirits, carrying a brown paper bag. "Angel!" she called out just in case he didn't sense her and thought there was an intruder coming to attack him in the middle of the day.

The vampire stumbled out of his bedroom only wearing bright blue silk boxers, his eyes groggy and his hair sticking out all over, threatening to curl at the ends. Obvious he had washed it but not gelled it before going to sleep. Buffy wondered if it would be curly if he didn't gel it to death.

Buffy had the devil's own time tearing her gaze away from the blue boxers. They were perfect and stylish, especially considering their purpose. For a moment her mind turned traitor, trying to make her giggle as she wondered if all men took this much care in their appearance. She remembered her dad just wearing plain K-Mart boxers. She pictured Oz in plain boxers. Did Xander even wear undies? They were probably holey tightie-whities. Giles was probably disappointed boxers didn't come in tweed.

"What's the smile for?" Angel scrubbed his big hands over his face.

"Just trying to picture Giles in silk boxers."

Angel's hands froze and his dark eyes peeked out from between his fingers, canting down at his only garment. "Oh, sorry. Wasn't expecting company."

"It's okay. You look so cute when you wake up." Buffy touched his hair. "A cute porcupine."

The corners of his lips fell as he ran a hand through the thick unruly pelt on his head. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you here?"

"Brought lunch." Buffy waggled the bag and Angel just looked puzzled. "Mom's on a buying trip in San Diego all weekend. Willow's spending the day with Oz before he has to leave for his out of town gig. No clue where Xander or Faith are but that might be for the best. If I find Giles, he'll put me to work."

"And we couldn't have that." Angel smirked and Buffy punched his shoulder. "Give me a minute."

Buffy watched him retreat to his room, her eyes alternating between his buttocks and his tattoo. As she sank into the couch, she knew he was going to put on clothes, a lamentable state of affairs but a wise decision given the way their hormones raced ahead of reason.

She didn't really feel like eating her PB&J. She didn't have her mom's knack for sealing the sandwich just so when she cut the crust off. Dripping out of the sandwich, a blob of lingonberry jelly landed in the valley of her breasts.

Before she could clean herself up, Angel was there, leaning over her shoulder. His thick finger swept her clean and he popped his jellied digit into his mouth. "Sweet."

Buffy smiled. "I've never really seen you eat anything before. I mean, you had that coffee with me once."

"We can eat but nothing really has any taste anymore." He sat next to her.

"So you were fibbing about the sweetness." She pouted.

He stroked a lock of her hair off her forehead. "Not really. I knew it would be sweet."

"But you really can't taste anything?" Buffy tried to imagine the bleakness of that. It was a daunting prospect.

"Sometimes there's a hint of taste, like a ghost of it. Alcohol has some taste."

"Yeah, I gathered that from Spike's behavior," Buffy said sardonically.

"You can't judge all vampires by Spike," Angel warned quickly. "Even by our standards, he has an oral fixation. He always has to have something in his mouth."

Buffy made a face as images popped into her mind unbidden. She knew that at some point Darla, Dru, Spike, and Angel all lived together and slept together but in what combinations? She took a bite of her sandwich and found a lack of taste wasn't limited to vampires.

"What?" Angel asked, reading her expression.

"Always had something in his mouth." Buffy pouted. "I was just thinking...I know how you used to live like a Bloodsucking Brady Bunch only with more sex...but I've never really wanted to know who was with who but when you said that thing about Spike's mouth." She made a face.

Angel's nostrils flared. "What? No! Hell, no! Buffy!"

She threw up her hands not entirely sure she believed him. "Sorry. I can't help wondering. I mean, there's more than two centuries of stuff for me to learn about you and maybe you got bored and experimental or something in that time, though the mere idea of you two gives me the wiggins."

"I meant how much Spike smokes and drinks and eats, real food or blood, not," Angel shuddered. "That! I didn't want that mouth anywhere near me. I usually wanted Dru or Darla washed after they were anywhere near him. And washing was not a priority back then."

"Oh, eww. Don't even want to imagine what you guys smelled like when you only washed once a week." Buffy preferred to think on that over the thought of 'was Angel protesting too much?'

"Um, Buffy." Angel had a weird expression on his face. "it was more like once or twice a year, not to mention the corsets, the multiple under dresses and all the wool."

Buffy set the sandwich down. "And the fact you're already dead. The Slayers back then didn't need to sense vampires they could have smelled them...okay, I don't like this conversation. Let's find another one."

"I assumed you had a reason to wake me up or were you just bored?" He clinked a finger against her dangling earring.

Buffy smiled sheepishly. "Bored and feeling guilty about not helping Giles."

"And this makes you feel less guilty?" Angel's eyebrows raised.

"You and I can brainstorm about the killer a little and that will make me less guilty," she said, when she was thinking all she wanted was some down time with him where they didn't have to think or worry.

"Okay, but I don't really know any more than I did last night."

"I do." Buffy took a sheaf of papers from her lunch bag. "Willow did a search on deaths where the heart was removed going back ten years. There's surprisingly not too many but I figured you might pick up on a pattern Giles missed. The most recent was a young clerk in a clothes boutique down on Main."

"That wasn't this new killer," Angel said softly.

"I didn't think so since the heart was pulled out through the chest wall but you haven't even looked at the papers yet. How do you know?" Buffy took another bite of sandwich. Angel's dark eyes met her and she saw the pain, regret and brutal honesty there. She knew what he was going to say. "Oh."

"It was Dru's birthday," he whispered, hanging his head.

"Oh." The sandwich turned to ash in her mouth.

"I'm sorry." He said it as he had so often any time his past came up with sadness, resignation and a hint of temper.

Buffy swallowed. The ashes of PB&J felt like it suddenly contained glass. "It wasn't you, Angel. It was your demon." Buffy wondered if that was really true. Were they really separate entities? She saw he must be wondering that, too, from the look in his eyes. What was worse was the nagging thought that she could still love him no matter how dark he had been.

"I'll look at these," he muttered, burying his face in the paperwork so he wouldn't have to look at her.

Buffy let him lose himself there for awhile as she struggled to finish her sandwich. "Anything?" she asked as she dug in the sack for her fruit.

"Nothing that jumps out at you."

Buffy pulled her bright yellow banana with its brown freckles out of the bag. They both looked at the rampant phallic fruit. "I could have done better on the fruit selection." Buffy shrugged and settled for breaking it into pieces before putting it in her mouth.

"I've been trying to remember something," Angel said, setting aside the sheets of paper. "I don't see much in there but I think I might remember something similar back when I was leaving Texas in the Seventies."

"You were in Texas?" Buffy smiled. "I can't imagine you there, don't ask me why."

"So long as you aren't imagining me in Seventies fashion I'll be happy," he said and she giggled.

"Did you have Burt Reynolds hair and a moustache? Mom had it bad for Burt," Buffy said, leaning on his shoulder.

"No to both." Angel stroked his face, remembering the fine facial fluff he had been sporting.

"Did you have butterfly collars and platform shoes?" A grin split her face. "Do you think Giles wore that stuff?"

He kissed her quickly. "No, no, and no. Anyhow, things went badly in Texas," he said and she looked up at him. "I didn't kill anyone but I did...he was shot. I couldn't help myself. The scent of blood...." Angel paused, swallowing hard. "Anyhow it was the last straw. I gave up, stopped living in this world until Whistler found me. As I was drifting through Texas, or maybe it was Oklahoma or Louisiana by that point, I might have heard something like these killing."

"Why didn't you say so in the library yesterday when Giles asked?"

"I was so focused on demons that I wasn't thinking broadly enough. And my memories from that time are hazy at best," he admitted. "I was in a bad state of mind."

"So, it's not a demon." That surprised her.

"I don't know what this is." He slid his arm around her shoulders. "But the thing thirty years ago was witchcraft."

Buffy scowled, thinking of Willow and what she was getting into. She didn't like this. "Like Wicca?"

"No, this was a dark art, Native American, much feared but I didn't stick around long enough to learn much," Angel replied apologetically. "I was more of a mind that it was none of my business."

"I guess we should call Giles," Buffy said, loathe to leave the cradle of Angel's arms. "Did you say Oklahoma and Louisiana?"

"Yes, why?" Angel kissed her forehead.

"Because Faith said her new boyfriend was from there or she thought he said that. She wasn't paying much attention." Buffy kissed Angel fiercely then got up. "We'd better call Giles."

"I'll call him." Angel looked as disappointed as she felt. "You ought to see if you can find, Faith. We might need to talk to her new man."

"Tell Giles the guy's name is Romulus Robicheaux and he works at the Bronze."

"All right."

Buffy, as much as she didn't want to, headed out knowing there was no choice. So much for a quiet Saturday with Angel.