Authors Note: Ummm... lol, I was a little pissed off at the whole male population when I wrote this so forgive me for Angel's actions. LOL Also, sorry if there is any weird html codes in here. My computer is a little bit screwy at the moment.

To ka-mia2286: I was actually up when you sent your review at 2:00 in the morning and let me just tell you that I was pretty much shocked that someone was up that late reading this. LOL. Thanks.

Chapter Two

A Burning Flame

The flame danced and flickered across the walls, trying to send little jets of light to all corners of the room. It writhed and it turned, almost as if it were alive. As if it had a soul of its own. Hot wax dripped from the candles slim side as the heat continued to burn, as it consumed its way down the candle slowly. Every inch of me seemed like it was being consumed by the same candle, the same flame. My body felt on fire as imaginary bugs crawled under the surface of my skin as my body tried to knit its torn tissue back together. I had been stuck in this room for two days because of the damn heat. The fever had taken me only hours after I first woke up and for some reason it was refusing to let go. That was the least of my worries at the moment though.

Something was up. I could feel it. Angel had been avoiding me for the past couple of days. Sidestepping conversations, making gestures to get me things that I might need, something was going on, and it obviously wasn't good.

Maybe that's the reason why I got up. That or the fever. But before I knew what was happening I was walking out of my tight little room and out into a hallway that was just as morbid. But I heard voices. They drifted to me, unconsciously leading me straight to them.

The door was cracked slightly at the end of the hall, and flames once again flickered. But this time instead of entrancing me, they only lit my way.

"You seem more repressed then usual tonight." Spike's voice came across loud and clear, causing me to cringe as the sudden noise rocked my head. "Head still hurtin'?"

"Leave me alone Spike."

"When are you going to admit that this is a problem?"

"It's just a headache, not the end of the world."

"And if it is?"

"Is what?"

"The end of the world."

"Give me a break." I saw shadow get up from where he was sitting and move across the room to the book shelvesSpike obviously chose not to respond after that because all that could be heard was the distant crackle of the fire and the swig of a bottle.

"Sooner or later you're going to need to tell her." Spike finally said after a beat.

"Why Spike, are you actually concerned about my well being?" Angel said sarcastically.

A bark of laughter sounded across the room. "I've spent over four hundred years with you Angelus and I don't fancy you living another couple. I would like nothin' better then to see you turn to dust. But if you go, then I might as well be dead too."

"Nice to know you care." Angel said offhandedly as he searched through the many volumes that sat on the dusty shelf.

"Might want to tell her soon though. Now's as good a time as any I think."

"I'll tell her when it becomes too much of a problem." Angel growled out, not even trying to hide the loathing he felt for the man next to him.

"I'm just saying that she's gonna want some answers seeing as she's just overheard our entire conversation."

My breath caught in my throat.

Busted.

Angel was thinking along the same lines as me at the moment. Not a single sound could be heard from him. I could just picture him though, closing his eyes, wishing for all this to go away. My instincts had been right. Something, beside the obvious, was going on here.

The door creaked open in front of me to reveal the exact image I had pictured, except that this time, Spike was standing in the doorway wearing that cocky shit eating grin he always did.

"Well well well. Looks like the bird is up from her nap." He glanced over at Angel who was glaring furiously at him for not saying that I was standing out side the door sooner. "I'll leave the two of you alone to… chat." He said, brushing by me with a whistle and a bounce in his step.

The fact that the man who had stabbed me, the man who I had hated even before my death, had just walked by didn't even seem to register. I just starred at Angel, trying my hardest to give him the Slayer look. My arms were crossed over my chest, my hip cocked to one side, my stony gaze set in place.

"Buffy…" he started, but he trailed off for lack of words.

"What is going on?" I said very slowly, making sure that he got the point that I wasn't kidding, that I wasn't playing games any more. "And don't you dare give me that whole I need to rest talk because I've rested. Now I want the truth and so help me god, if you don't start spilling now I'll get my answers from Spike. I'm sure he'll be more then willing to tell me the truth. Maybe with a little extra details of his own added in."

"It's nothing."

"Spike is concerned. It's obviously something."

"Spike's concerned for his own life. Not mine. If I die, he dies."

"Please tell me that this isn't another stupid bound by blood thing because frankly, I'm getting awfully tired of this shit."

"He'll be the only good vampire left. He'd have to step into my place. It'd just be a matter of time before…"

"You know?" I threw my hands up in the air. "I really don't give a damn about what may or may not happen to Spike because I pretty much plan to kill him in the next couple days, so why don't we get back to the story of us. What do you say Angel? You think you might be able to handle a little conversation?" I walked over to the old sofa and flopped down on its dust cover. A puff of dirt came jumping out as I sat, but I crossed my legs and arms anyways and looked at him expectantly. I refused to show that in actuality I was fighting the urge to pass out, the urge to get away from everything and just curl up and go back to sleep. There would be time for sleep later.

"Buffy, this is neither the time nor place…"

"No, I think it's the perfect time and place." My stomached rolled with nausea.

Gritting his teeth he went over to the bottle of whiskey that Spike had left behind. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"What were you and Spike talking about?" He said nothing. "Alright, you want an easier question? How 'bout, why the hell are we here with Spike?"

He took a gulp of the foul liquid, grimacing as it went down. "Because I trust him." He laughed. "Actually, I don't trust him at all, which is why we're here."

"What?"

"Forget it. You got your answer. Let's move on shall we." He took a good mouthful of the alcohol and looked at me expectantly.

"You're not getting away with just that. Why are we…" I stopped as I heard the door open. Part of me expected, actually hoped, that it would be Spike, that way I could maybe start to get my answers. What I saw though was something much much worse.

"Angel, when are you coming to bed?" There standing in the doorway was Julia, wrapped only in a sheet. I slowly turned my head to Angel, willing him to deny what I just heard. But when he didn't, when he just took another drink of whiskey, my heart dropped.

"In a minute." He said roughly. Julia just shrugged, and with an evil glint in her eye, sauntered off to her room.

My heart racing, the blood rushing to my ears, I starred at Angel in disbelief. "What the hell was that?" I gave myself credit for barley raising my voice above a whisper, for trying to keep myself under control. In a moment though I knew I was going to snap.

"What did it look like?"

"What happened to you? This isn't you Angel."

"Isn't me?" He laughed bitterly. "Buffy, you don't know me anymore. The thing your so in love with, is dead. He's been dead for three hundred years. I'm not the man… demon, you fell in love with when you were seventeen. I haven't been him for a long time."

I got up and crossed to the other side of the room. I had to get away from him. To look at him seemed to make the pain in my side miniscule to the pain that was coursing through me right now. "No. You were him before you left to come here. And don't you dare try to tell me otherwise because I saw it first hand."

He was silent.

"Have you been sleeping with her?"

"Is it really any of your business?" He shot back.

"Answer the damn question."

He turned his head and looked me in the eye, twisting the proverbial knife just a little bit more. "Yes."

The tears that I thought would come didn't, instead the anger just seemed to increase. "For how long now?"

"I haven't stopped."

"You were seeing her behind my back? When we were together?"

"We're far from together Buffy."

Laughter bubbled up out of no where. "Is that what you tell yourself? Does it help with the guilt?"

"What guilt? You think just because I didn't tell my ex girlfriend that I'm out fucking another women, that I'm going to have guilt?"

"Then what the hell is all this about?"

"It's not about anything Buffy!" His voice rose for the first time throughout the conversation. "It doesn't always have to be about something. Look around you! This world is going to hell. People are dieing everyday. People are selling themselves just so they can get a couple dollars to feed there kids…"

"So what are you telling me? That she's a charity case? That you're doing this just so she can earn a little money? Oh how noble of you. That just makes everything better now." I said, not even trying to hold back all the anger and disdain that I was feeling.

"Are you talking about Julia? Hate to get your hopes up but she's pretty much just a good lay."

I ran my hands through my hair, hating every word that was coming out of my mouth more then I was hating his. "So you're putting your soul on the line for what exactly?"

"You actually believe that I can lose my soul with everything that's going on around here?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I don't even know who you are."

"You wouldn't be the only one." He mumbled as he continued to down the bottle. Moment passed in silence, with me just starring at him, trying to figure out what exactly it was that I wanted to say. But nothing came. What was I supposed to say after this? To even think about him with that girl… it hurt to much.

I don't know why I didn't see it all coming though. Angel and I's relationship was never easy. Something always interfered between us sooner or later. That's just the way the game was played for some reason. The whole bit about soul mates never getting together in the end? I was starting to believe it. I don't know how many countless times I would hear people talk about that. Back in college we even examined relationships like Angel and I in psychology class. It never mattered how much in love the two people were or how perfect they seemed to be for each other, it always ended in agony. It was a fact that I just had to except. Soul mates don't exist because they're doomed from the beginning.

The silence that consumed us was closing in on me faster and faster. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Like all the air was slowly being sucked out of my system. The need to say something was becoming to strong. So, I spoke. Not about Julia. All that would accomplish would be another fight. No, it was time to go back to the original question. The reason why all this started.

"What is it that you don't want to tell me?" It was said softly. I almost thought that he hadn't heard me, but the moment he began to rub his temples again I knew that it was just a matter of him ignoring me. "Spike said something about a headache." I continued, trying to coax something out of him. Trying not to think of what I really wanted to say. "What were you two talking about Angel?"

"Nothing." He spoke after what seemed like a lifetime. His voice was still rough and harsh though. "I have a headache. Spike just thinks that I'm not telling him the whole truth."

"And why would he think that?"

"Because I'm not."

"Then tell me." I watched as he polished off the bottle in his hand.

"Buffy, if I didn't tell Spike, why would I tell you?"

I looked at him incredibly, the anger just looking for another out to release itself. "Maybe because I'm your girlfriend and Spike's the son of a bitch who stabbed me!"

"Girlfriend?" He got up and moved across the room to retrieve another bottle. "Is that what you think you are?" He laughed, sending immediate chills down my spine as the reminder of Angelus came back into view. "Girlfriends are suppose to be there for you, girlfriends are supposed to be understanding. They don't need to pry into their boyfriends private lives. They just need to sit and look pretty."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I couldn't follow a word he was saying.

"I'm talking about how you don't even come close to fitting the requirements of a girlfriend. I can't have a girlfriend Buffy. Those kinds of things are saved for normal people. People who don't have to fight demons. People who don't have to worry about if they're going to wake up the next morning."

He looked at me as I tried to contemplate what he was saying. The thought that this was all just some sort of fever induced nightmare had entered my head, but it couldn't be. The sounds around me, the movements, they were all too real right for a dream.

His brief bout of laughter was what broke through my thoughts. He stood before me, the bottle loose in his hands, and smirk firmly in place. The same little smile that still haunts my dreams to this day was standing present. "Please tell me that you didn't actually think that this could ever be anything. That I actually cared some what about you here."

I stood up, the fire in my skin boiling my blood. "What the hell were you doing over the past couple months if you didn't care about me then? What do you think I am? I'm not that whore in the other room Angel. I'm not some two bit piece of trash that's just there when you need to find a little release."

"You want to know what you are?" He stalked over to me, grabbing me by the arms and pulling me up against his chest. I could smell the steady stench of the whisky all over him as he stared at me hard and menacing. Bruises were starting to appear on my arms where his fingers bit into my skin. Leaning forward he pressed his lips roughly against mine, biting and sucking, his tongue demanding immediate entrance. I struggle, tried to push away, but he was to strong. Just as the need for oxygen was starting to become overwhelming he pulled away. Leaning in closely to my ear as I struggled for breath he gave me my answer. "You're convenient."

With that he pushed me away from him, sending me sprawling on the ground. Picking up his discarded bottle he stormed out of the room and somewhere in the distance a door slammed shut.