Before Buffy could berate him about his behavior, she watched as her lover fell into unconsciousness. Her anger rapidly melted away, replaced with icy dread as she saw her lover lying helplessly across the threshold. She ran to him, panicked at the sight of his strong body lying in a heap. She didn't know what to do. She began to cry, heaving up chesty sobs, her face dampened with new tears. She began lovingly stroking his face, willing him to regain consciousness, but still he lay there, motionless and empty. She sat down, her legs out in front, and lifted Angels head onto her lap. She began softly stroking his hair, entwining her fingers in its dark thickness. She lifted one of his hands and kissed the finger on which his Claddagh ring sat, holding onto his hand as if it were her life source. Her body was shaking with panic and grief, and her tears began to fall into his hair as she spoke desperately to him, in between sniffs and sobs.

"Angel, please… you have to wake up… I need you, Angel… I love you so much…" When he didn't answer, she hung her head, letting her hair fall into her face, hiding her tear stained face. Her heart stopped as she saw Angel turn his head to look up at her from her lap. She watched as his beautiful eyes opened, looking straight into hers. Before she could register it, Angel had engulfed her in a hug.

"Oh, Buffy!" his breath was ragged and hoarse, and she now noticed that his whole body was covered in a cold sweat. He had to let go of her however, when he winced painfully, clutching at his hip.

His dark shirt was ripped, and a deep gouge ran along Angel's hip, and onto the front of his stomach. Buffy cried out in shock.

"Angel, oh my god!"

Buffy helped Angel move into a sitting position, his back against the wall. She began delicately removing his shirt, but it was hard going because the wound had already started to close, and the shirt was getting stuck to the clotted blood. A few winces and sharp breaths later, Angel's shirt was off, and Buffy got her first look at his wound.

All the while, Angel couldn't believe what he'd just seen. Buffy had died, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it. And it was him, no Angelus, who had killed her. All he wanted was to be with his lover, and he couldn't, he couldn't risk becoming him again…

Buffy's expression at seeing Angel's wound drew Angel out of his thoughts. He tried to cover his wound with his hands, guilty at causing her so much grief. Buffy wouldn't have it. She moved his hands out of the way.

"Angel what-"

"It was a demon. He had some sort of mind control over me. I couldn't kill him because I saw…" But he stopped.

"You saw what?"

"I-It was nothing. It was just a flashback of my past, my past as Angelus." He lied desperately, hoping she wouldn't question him.

"But you're not Angelus anymore," Buffy countered. "You're a good person. That's not you anymore Angel."

Instead of arguing, which he knew was pointless, Angel regarded his wound.

"This is nothing, I'll be fine."

Shocked, Angel froze as Buffy's hands moved to his face as she looked him square in the eyes.

"Angel, let me take care of you. The sun will be up soon, we need to get you into bed."

She was so close to him. He could see into the depths of her hazel orbs. He wanted so badly to kiss her…

Nodding in defeat, Angel started to get up, slowly and awkwardly, and with Buffy's help, he eventually lay on his bed while Buffy began to clean his wound. She was so gentle, and he was grateful.

Once all the dried blood had been cleaned away, Buffy applied several dressings to his wound, and then carefully attached them with tape. When she had put everything away, she sat down beside him again. She looked down at him; he looked rested enough, and yet troubled. He reached for her hand, and without hesitation, she entwined her fingers in his, and he brought them to his mouth, kissing her fingers softly. She closed her eyes at this feeling, moaning softly, and this was when Angel's controlled demeanor went out the window. He couldn't help it. He wanted her to make that noise again, only louder. He grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her onto him, so that she lay on top of him. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled her head towards him and kissed her. She didn't stay shocked for much longer, returning the kiss. It began to build, their desperation and the sheer fear they felt at the idea of losing their lover drove them on. Buffy was stroking Angel's toned chest, and Angel's hands were under Buffy's shirt, kneading her breasts. Angel sat up, (not without wincing, and Buffy kissed the skin near his wounds tenderly, wishing he wasn't in so much pain.) It didn't seem to affect him much more after that, for Buffy was now sitting in his lap, her legs either side of him. She always loved being a little taller than him, so he could look up into her eyes, eyes full of hunger and want. He leant up and kissed her, hungrily, god how he wanted this… but he couldn't…

A flash of inner pain went through him, and it must have shown in his eyes for at that moment, Buffy loosened her hands from his hair, and let them slip down to frame his face, concern furrowing her brow. He lowered his head and she tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn't let her.

"Angel, what is it?"

"I-I can't do this Buffy, I love you too much to…"

"To what? Be with me? Make love to me?" She knew her words sounded harsh, and she instantly regretted saying them, seeing that he was suffering, albeit internally. But she wanted him, wanted to feel his cool hands on her skin, his lips against hers.

Angel just couldn't do it. And not for lack of want. It had taken all of his strength to stop. He wouldn't become him again. He'd never hurt her.

"Angel, something's wrong. You can tell me."

"I-" But he was interrupted by another, familiar, scraping at the door. It was quick this time, and it stopped almost as quickly as it had come. Angel tried to get up, but Buffy pushed him back down. She composed herself, and re-aligned her clothing with the right parts of her body (Angel had been pushing her top up, and her pants were undone). She walked determinedly towards the door.

"I guess that's our demon buddy coming back for round two?"

"Yeah, but I don't want you to-"

"Angel," she pointed to herself. "I'm the Slayer. I'll be fine. And besides, you're hurt."

Angel still didn't want her to go. And a small part of him was being selfish, he wanted to be with her right now, and wanted to feel her warm skin under his hands, to feel her warm breath, to smell her…

Before he knew it, Buffy had strode quicklyto him, and kissed him.

"I'll be back soon. You should rest, you need it." She turned and headed for the door.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"You know me."

The feel of the situation immediately shifted from one with an air of wittiness, to one ofa serious nature, and Angel donned a serious face, looking deep into her eyes, worrying for her.

"Buffy, watch out. Don't underestimate him .He's dangerous."

"As are they all. And besides, if he's gunna make me have past flashbacks; there really isn't much I haven't already seen."

Angel hated that he was lying to her. She wouldn't be seeing her past. She would be seeing her worst nightmares come to life. But if he told her that, she wouldn't believe him, she'd think it sounded stupid.

"Buffy," Angel paused, and looked longingly at her, his voice husky and dry. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He watched as she grabbed a scythe from off his wall, and passed across the threshold, closing the door behind her.

Angel instantly began to worry, but he knew she could take care of herself; he'd just rather he was there beside her, protecting her, watching her back. He wouldn't get a moments rest until she was back in his arms…