The two strangers silently walked across town, ignoring the curious glances sent their way. Buffy walked at a slow pace, allowing Angel to lean on her for support. She was furious with Riley for what he had done, although she knew that vampires healed quickly, Angel would need a day or two to be able to walk normally; and from what she saw he had several deep gashes on his ribs. What probably annoyed her most, however, is the fact that even though she didn't even know his name and he was severely injured, Buffy couldn't get her mind off the handsome stranger beside her. She couldn't help but sneak looks at the vampire, he was even more gorgeous up close than she'd thought; that and the draw she felt towards him seemed to trap her mind in lusty thoughts. Thoughts that were somewhat new to her, but also ones she'd been taught to avoid.

'Get a grip Summers!' she thought, 'He's just a guy! A very handsome guy maybe... with nice hair and deep, penetrating eyes and those lips-'

Remembering all too well where that sentence leads, Buffy shook her head and continued walking.

Beside her Angel paced along tensely; every nerve seemingly hypersensitive. Despite the enormous amount of pain he was in, he couldn't get his mind off the blonde woman that was so near. His arm was wrapped around her shoulders and because of it, his whole body was desperate for more contact; the urge to take her into his arms becoming almost unbearable. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn to look at him again. She had been doing it since they'd started walking, staring at him when she thought he couldn't see her. He figured either he was beat up bad (and really looked like it) or she was having more doubts about what he was than she'd let on. Either way, Angel was not exactly eager to find the reasoning behind her glances.

He knew he should say something; ask her why she saved him or at least thank her for it, but he was at a complete loss of words. No one had ever shown him that kind of compassion before, most people he met didn't even acknowledge that he existed. Yet she had just saved his life, after he had done nothing for her at all. And from his initial "meeting" with the inhabitants, he got the impression that these people weren't all that understanding when it came to demons. He searched his mind for something to say; anything that would break the silence, but his mind drew a blank. Figures, after three hundred and some odd years of existence he was unable to find a way to say a simple thanks.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when they reached a metal door at the far end of a housing complex.

"It's my apartment." She said simply, entering a small combination into a nearby keypad. "Here, come in."

To say the least Angel was in shock. He'd expected her to take him to the council, maybe drop him off at a bar if he was lucky, her home was the last place he'd expected her to bring him, never mind invite him inside. Stepping through the door he looked over at her, questions swarming his mind. She shrugged in response, throwing her jacket onto a nearby couch.

Buffy looked over to Mr. tall, dark and handsome (which was the name she'd silently given him on the walk here), roughly assessing his injuries. He was beat up pretty bad to say the least, but she was mostly worried about his ribs.

"Follow me." She said, carefully taking his arm.

Slowly, she led him into her bedroom and sat him down on her bed. She turned on a nearby lamp, slightly illuminating the room. She quickly went into the closet and retrieved her first aid kit (which she now used bi-nightly) from the top shelf. Getting up again, she turned to him.

"It looks like your ribs got it pretty bad, take your shirt off, I'll be right back."

Going into the bathroom, she filled a bowl full of water, picked up a clean cloth and headed back towards her room. Upon reaching the doorway, it took all the willpower she possessed not to jump him right there. His shirt had been discarded to reveal washboard abs and strong muscles that most guys would kill for. Taking a deep breath, she set the bowl on her night table and examined his wounds. He had a deep gash on his ribs and bruises covering his arms and back. Based on how he was walking she could only guess that his leg was at least sprained, if not worse. Slowly, she began washing his injuries before dressing them and moving onto the next. After finishing with the visible scratches she re-wet the cloth and slowly raised it to his eye. He flinched away slightly, a look of distress briefly flashing through his eyes.

"Sorry. You have a cut on your eye." Seeing his expression she continued, "It's alright, this might sting a bit but I won't hurt you."

Hesitantly, he nodded, and she carefully started to clean the cut.

"Thank you." He said quietly, his deep voice startling her.

"What for?"

Smiling slightly, Angel looked at her,

"You saved my life today. I know that a thank you is pretty pathetic considering, but I'm kinda new at this whole concept."

Buffy took a deep breath, doing her best to concentrate on cleaning the cut.

"What they were doing was wrong, you didn't deserve it." She said simply.

"You don't know that." He said, his usual habit of brooding creeping back.

Buffy gathered her supplies and stood up; looking him in the eyes as she gave him a small smile.

"Ya, I do."

Angel stared at the now empty doorway; he wasn't sure how to react to that. Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair.

"I'm Buffy by the way." She said, returning to the room. "Buffy Summers."

"Angel."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at his response.

"You're name is Angel?"

Angel smirked,

"Says the woman named Buffy."

"Hey, I happen to like my name thank you very much. And I didn't mean it as an insult, I like your name- it's pretty... and rather fitting." She said, adding the last part under her breath.

"What?"

"Nothing." Looking around the room, Buffy sighed the silence once again creeping up on the couple.

"Look I appreciate the help, really I do. I'd better get going back to my place though." Angel said, rising to get up.

Buffy quickly moved to stand in front of him.

"Excuse me?"

"Ya, my place is just across town and-"

"And you honestly think I'm letting you go? You can barely walk, and I happen to know that a deep gash to the ribs tends to hurt a bit."

"I'll be fine."

"What you'll be is here! I'll close the curtains and you will lie down and get some much-needed rest. I'm going out to do a few things, and when I get back you'll still be right here in a deep, peaceful slumber."

"Buffy, really it's okay-"

Buffy gave him a deadly glare, folding her arms over her chest.

"Look, those guys who attacked you are still out there, and there's nothing saying if you walk home alone you'll be okay. I just saved your life, and I'm sure as hell not going to let you just throw it out the window, because you have some freaky pride issues. You're going to stay here and you're not leaving until I say you're well enough to go. Not only that, but when I get back you will be asleep or I won't hesitate to knock you over the head with an extremely heavy object, that may or may not cause you even more severe brain damage than you obviously already have. Either way, you're sticking around for a while, even if it means being unconscious for the duration of your stay!"

Angel stared at her, his mouth hanging open slightly. He, the great Angelus: Former Scourge of Europe, was being threatened by a five foot something blonde who was less than a tenth of his age. Sighing, he laid down and looked up at her, putting his hands up in surrender.

"Scary part is, those probably aren't empty threats are they?"

Buffy gave him a cheery smile, taking out a jacket from her closet.

"Nope, thank you for your cooperation. I'll be back soon, sleep! Or you'll be facing the wrath of my frying pan."

Chuckling, Angel put his head back and listened as she turned to the front door.

"You really are impossible!" he shouted, as he heard the door open.

Buffy peeked her head in the doorway and smiled,

"Yep, it's all apart of my spitfire personality that I just know you're gonna love."

With that she left, locking the door and leaving a stunned Angel sitting straight up on the bed behind her. Remembering Doyle's words and the almost sympathetic laugh that had followed, everything seemed to click. Falling back on the pillows, he let out a groan; almost wishing she'd knocked him out. There was no doubt about it… He was totally and officially hopeless.

End of Chapter Six.