AN: Thank you all for the feedback on part 4!


Part 5
Angel shot through the side streets of Los Angeles with one destination in mind: getting to Buffy. She'd sounded so panicked during the phone call just minutes ago. Someone was outside her apartment. He'd been able to hear the sounds of screaming and pounding through the phone line. Whoever had broken into her apartment, and then sent the disturbing poster was back. He'd told her to hang up, call 911, and lock herself in her bedroom until he, or other officers, got there.

Now, he was speeding to her rescue, the portable siren flashing on his dashboard while he strained to hear the police radio over the blare of the siren. He was hoping to hear that someone had arrived to protect her, but so far, she was still alone. There were several patrol cars in route, along with himself.

All the while as he drove, horrible visions flashed before his eyes about what he'd find when he got there. Would the assailant have gotten in? Would he find her door broken down, and Buffy fighting off an attack? Would she be lying injured on the floor in a pool of blood? Or worse, dead?

Angel shook off the foreboding unease. Buffy would be fine. The locks he'd had Xander install were solid. And if she'd listened to him and locked herself in her room, then that was another barrier her attacker would have to get through. Hopefully, before that could happen, either he or the other officers would have arrived.

Peeling around the last turn, his tires squealing loudly, Angel stepped harder on the gas. Just a few hundred more feet. He slammed on the brakes as he approached her building. Barely remembering to shut off the engine, he leaped out of the car. His first instinct was to run into the building, but years of being a cop had him rethinking. He crouched down low, using his car as a protective barrier.

Eyes sweeping all around him, Angel could see no one at all. He double checked to be safe, and pulled his 9mm out of his shoulder holster. Deeming the area safe, Angel carefully dashed around his car and up the front steps of the building. He stood to the side of the door and peered inside. The lobby was brightly lit. And empty.

Entering through the door, he kept his eyes trained on his surroundings and his ears open for any sound. But it was quite as a tomb. The stairs were the best route to get to Buffy's floor so he slowly opened the door, his gun held out in front of him and his flashlight clutched in his other hand. The stairwell was empty and quiet as well.

The climb to Buffy's floor was tense. He expected some lunatic to jump out at him, but he didn't see a soul. When he got to the door that lead to the fourth floor, he stopped and listened. He couldn't hear a thing. None of the pounding and screaming he'd heard over the phone echoed to him. The person had either left, or reached their target.

Angel turned the knob quietly and slowly, then pushed the door open a mere inch. Still not a sound reached his ears. He really hoped that meant whoever had been harassing Buffy had left. For a quick moment, he refreshed his memory of the layout of the floor. The stairway door was at one end of the hallway, the elevator at the other end. A hallway ran between the entrances and on each side there was one apartment. That meant there was no where for a person to hide. It would have been easier for him if the door he was standing behind had a window, but it was solid steel.

Leading again with his gun, he inched forward until with one eye he could see the hallway before him. There was no screaming psycho for him to arrest, but what he did see turned his heart inside out and churned his stomach.

No, there was no one in the hallway, but evidence that there had been someone remained. Still, Angel was careful. He walked the length of the hall, checked the doors to both apartments, saw they were both closed and undamaged, and surveyed the elevator. He was alone in the hallway. Secure in that knowledge, he again faced what was left in the hallway from whoever had been there.

The previously pristine white walls were scratched and dented as if they'd been mauled by a large object. But worse, red spray paint decorated every available surface. Well, 'decorated' was a subjective word. There was nothing pleasant about what he saw.

Hastily scrawled words came at him from all sides:

Bitch

Slut

Whore

Die

Rest In Hell

and on, and on. There were also some primitive drawings demonstrating what the person would apparently like to do to Buffy. It was absolutely sick. Angel had suspected before, but he was now entirely sure that Buffy was in real danger. This psycho wanted to hurt her, and likely kill her, if the words on the walls were any indication.

Just as Angel was about to pound on Buffy's door, he could hear sirens outside and the shouts of his fellow officers. He knew he should tell them the building appeared to be clear, but he needed to check on Buffy. He could speak with them after.

Several very long seconds passed after he'd knocked and announced his arrival to Buffy before she opened the door. Her face was pale, and her hands shook on the doorknob. Fear was still obviously affecting her. Not that he could blame her.

"Oh, Angel!" she cried out in relief, promptly throwing herself in his arms.

The act threw him for a moment, but then he swiftly wrapped his arms around her shuddering body. She held on tightly, gulping in deep breaths of air.

"Are you all right?" he asked, pushing her away slightly.

"Yes," she nodded emphatically. "Whoever was out there, they left when they heard the siren a few minutes ago."

Angel felt relief and annoyance all at once. Buffy was unharmed, and that was really all that mattered. On the other hand, the person had still been in the hallway when he arrived, but had likely heard his siren and fled. He should have turned if off. If he had, he might have been able to apprehend the suspect. Hindsight. At least Buffy was okay.

"Did...did you catch them, or see who it was?" Buffy questioned, chewing nervously on her lower lip.

"No," Angel answered, frustrated. "He, or she, must have gone out the back entrance. I didn't see anything out front or in the building."

"I think it was a she-." Buffy's words abruptly cut off as her eyes widened at something behind Angel. She pushed past him, whispering under her breath, "Oh my God!"

The grab Angel made for Buffy's arm failed. She twisted out of his reach and stepped out into the hallway. "Buffy," he started to say, but she either didn't hear him, or the noise coming from the arriving officers drowned out his voice.

Buffy stared at the violent graffiti on the walls. She was utterly shocked. Turning to Angel, she asked, "Who would do this? Why does someone hate me so much?"

"Detective Callahan," a voice asked to Angel's left. "What are you doing here?"

Running a hand through his hair, Angel faced the officer, a man who he knew casually and had worked with before. They had work to do. Evidence needed to be collected, and the building needed to be checked out further. He'd have to wait to talk to Buffy more until later. Judging by the spray painted words, whoever was after her knew her somehow. They'd have to sit down and try to figure out who could be this angry with her. But for now, he had a more immediate job to do.


"B! Buffy!" Angel heard just as he was sitting down on the couch in Buffy's living room, followed by, "Holy shit! What the hell happened?"

He knew that voice. It looked like Faith had arrived. He turned to Buffy. "Did you call Faith?"

"No." Buffy frowned at the doorway as her friend burst through.

"Oh, God, B! Are you all right?" Angel's partner and Buffy's friend exclaimed, out of breath from her run up the stairs. "I was on my way home and I drove past your building and saw all the cop cars."

Well, that explained that, Angel thought. He decided not to comment on the fact that it was nearing four in the morning and Faith had said she was just on her way home. He'd ask her about that later.

"I'm fine," Buffy interjected when she saw Faith was about to continue rambling. "There's just some property damage, and ya know, I may never be able to sleep again."

Faith looked at Angel expectantly. "What the hell happened?"

Angel explained the events of that night in typical cop fashion, giving the straight out facts. He didn't mention how absolutely terrified he'd been on the drive over, or how relieved he'd been when he'd seen that Buffy was unharmed. No, there was no need to get into that with his partner. He didn't particularly want to think about it himself.

"We have to catch this son of a bitch, Angel. This can't go on. They're out for blood." Faith shuddered, thinking about the destruction inside Buffy's apartment, the mutilated poster, and now this most recent attack. It had to stop before the person managed to actually get to Buffy.

"I agree," Angel said, and waved a hand for Faith to take a seat next to Buffy. "I was just about to talk to Buffy to see if we can possibly figure out who might be doing this."

"Me? You think I might know who is torturing me? How would I know, and if I did, wouldn't I tell you?" Buffy answered a bit harsher than she'd meant to. She couldn't help it. Her nerves were utterly on edge. One day, her life is fairly normal, and the next day, she has some freak stalking and threatening her. And of course, there was Angel. He'd also popped back into her life to make everything messy. So if she was a bit snappy, she wasn't going to feel guilty.

"These attacks are personal, Buffy. Whoever it is has something against you," Angel replied.

"He's right," Faith agreed, turning to Buffy. "None of this has been just random violence. Everything has been against you, so I think it's safe to assume it's somebody you know or have come in contact with."

"But who?" Buffy questioned, her voice pleading. "I don't know anybody who would want to do this to me."

"Is there anyone at the gallery who has been creeping you out or anything?" prodded Faith, trying to jog Buffy's memory to anything unusual at the place where she showed her paintings.

"Not that I can think of. The owner is a sixty year old woman, and she's an old family friend," Buffy pondered out loud.

"Probably not her," Faith chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Do any men work there?" Angel butted in.

Buffy thought about the question. "Just one, I think. He handles bringing in new talent. But we get along great. And I know for a fact that he's gay so I don't think it would be him either."

"What about any boyfriends, especially recently." Angel hoped his tone was neutral as he asked that question. And he told himself the answer didn't matter one damn bit to him, but he waited tensely for her answer.

Averting her eyes, Buffy mumbled, "There's no one."

Angel wouldn't allow himself to be pleased with that answer, so he pressed more. "Lovers? One night stands? Anyone like that?"

Sucking in a breath, Buffy looked back at Angel, staring him straight in the eyes. "There's been no one at all, not since...not since you left Sunnydale."

The entire room lapsed into silence at her admission. Angel was stunned. The cops nearby processing the crime scene gazed curiously at the group on the sofa and chairs, and Faith just watched it all with avid interest.

"Well, I think we can cross of that avenue of suspects," Faith said lightly, her amusement at the situation clear.

Angel shook off the shock of learning that Buffy hadn't been with anyone since him and tried to focus back on the case. "What about this William Burns character?" There, that was a good question to ask and it directed his thoughts away from Buffy's lack of lovers since him.

"No," Buffy responded definitely. "It's not him. He's a friend and he wouldn't do anything like this."

"A friend?" Angel repeated. "He's got a record, Buffy. People like that can be capable of doing anything."

"No," Buffy said again. "And besides, I know where he was tonight, and it wasn't here."

"But-"

"Knock it off, Angel!" Faith snapped at him. "She said it isn't him!"

Angel eyed his partner in annoyance. She knew perfectly well they had to pursue all avenues if they had any hope of catching the bastard terrorizing Buffy. "I just want to make sure we don't ignore a suspect."

"Well, he's not a suspect," Faith shot back, thoroughly angered that Angel would focus on someone just because they'd gotten into trouble in the past. It was so stereotypical. "And if you must know, I was with William tonight. All night. So can we move on?"

For a second time, Angel was rendered speechless. Faith knew this William person? Faith had been with him earlier? What the hell was going on? And why hadn't she mentioned her...relationship?...with him several days ago when he'd first brought up William Burns' name? Something weird was going on. Angel wanted to question Faith about it, but one look at her face told him that if he dare ask now, she'd do something he'd likely live to regret. So he kept his mouth shut on the subject. For now.

"That, uh, pretty much leaves us with no possibilities," Angel muttered, disheartened at their lack of progress.

"Why don't we put our heads together again tomorrow. I'm beat, and I'm sure both of you could use some sleep," Faith gave a weary sigh and stood up.

"Probably a good idea," Angel agreed. He, too, stood and then faced off with Faith. A few unspoken words passed between. He wasn't going to let this William subject drop, and she knew it. But for now, he had a bigger fish to fry. What he was about to say was probably insane, and it likely wasn't going to go over well, but he'd been thinking about it for the last hour. It was the most logical answer to a difficult problem. "Faith, could you stop by my apartment tomorrow and pick up some clothes?"

"Clothes? Why?" Faith frowned. That was certainly an odd request.

"I'll need something to wear tomorrow, and I don't think I'll have time to pick something up in the morning," he explained evasively.

"But why..."

"I'm staying here," he finally said.

"WHAT?" Buffy yelped, leaping off the couch. "You can't...but..."

Angel turned to Buffy, his expression stern. "I'm not leaving you here alone with this psycho still on the loose. I'll sleep on your couch until we catch him."

He was insane. How could he not be for suggesting such a thing, Angel said to himself. Stay here with Buffy? What the hell was he thinking? Buffy was the lying bitch who'd almost ruined his life. He couldn't stay here with her. Who knew what else she'd be able to do to him. Even so, he couldn't in good conscience leave her here alone.

"I-I'll be fine," Buffy stuttered. "They didn't get in tonight. The locks held. You don't have to stay here."

Angel could not, absolutely not, stay here with here in her apartment. It was out of the question. How could he suggest such a thing? And why in the world would he want to do it? He hated her. He'd made that pretty clear since they'd first come face to face again after the break-in. And she really didn't know if she could handle being that close to Angel for so long. It was hard enough being around him at times like this. What would it be like if he was sleeping a few feet away. No, it just couldn't happen.

"This is not up for debate, Buffy," Angel said firmly.

"But-."

"I think Angel's right, Buffy," Faith cut in. Oh, she was really enjoying this. These two were circling each other like a pair of horny lions. It was ever so much fun to watch. Besides, Angel was right. It wasn't safe for Buffy to be alone and unprotected until this was over.

"Fine," Buffy threw up her hands in defeat. "Do whatever you want," she finished then stalked out of the room. This was an absolute and complete nightmare.


A half hour later, the apartment and hallway had cleared out. Faith had gone home, the other cops had finished taking evidence, and all was quiet. All that remained was Buffy on one side of the living room, uncomfortably looking anywhere but at Angel, and Angel on the other side of the room, wondering again if he was insane.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked when she remained silent.

"Yeah, just tired," she mumbled her answer.

"Oh, yeah. It is kind of late," he responded, then glanced at the couch. "If you have some sheets or a blanket, and an extra pillow for the couch I'll get out of your hair and let you get to sleep." When she didn't answer, or move, or even act like she'd heard him, he became concerned. "Buffy?"

"Huh? Oh," she blinked several times. "You, umm, don't have to sleep on the couch."

Angel's mouth dropped open. She couldn't possibly mean...

"No!" Buffy quickly said, interpreting his assumption. "I didn't mean...I just." She sighed. This was ridiculous. "You can stay in Dawn's room."

"Dawn?"

"My sister," she informed him, trying her damnedest not to blush over what he'd thought she was suggesting. "She normally stays with me, but right now she's out of town for a few weeks."

Sleep on a bed instead of a couch? That sounded a whole hell of a lot better. Right now, he was so exhausted, though, he figured he could have slept on the floor and not cared one bit. So he accepted the offer.

Buffy showed Angel the room, even put fresh sheets on the bed for him. She was suddenly glad she'd gotten Dawn a queen size one instead of the smaller twin. Angel would have dwarfed it. And she really wasn't going to think about Angel in a bed. It was time she mosied off to her own room where she would be as far away from the man she'd chased away with her stupidity four years ago. She said good night and told him where the bathroom and fresh towels were, then made a grateful escape.

Angel watched her nearly dash out of the room, wondering if she felt as weird about all this as he did. They'd been lovers once, after all. But that was neither here nor there. Time for sleep, he told himself. So he stripped off his clothes and slid into the bed wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.

It wasn't until he'd shut off the light, until he'd shut his eyes in hopes of catching maybe two hours of sleep, that he realized that throughout the entire night, he'd never really thought of her as Lizzie, his lying bitch of an ex-girlfriend.

He'd thought of her only as Buffy.


TBC!