AN: Okay, folks, this chapter is edited for content to meet the restrictions here at "the-site-which-cannot-be-named". I just cut out the necessary scene. If you want to read the full version of this chapter, go to my bio page here, and click on the link to my homepage. You should be able to find it from there. And thanks to everyone for all the fabulous feedback! It's much appreciated!


Part 10 - edited

Every muscle in Buffy's body seemed to have frozen the moment she noticed Angel standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Everything around her faded away: the glass she'd broken, the kitchen, everything. Her mind was filled with Angel. How could it not be with him standing only a few feet away, wearing only...

Buffy swallowed and her hand twitched on the dustpan she was holding as she fully took in his almost naked body, covered only by black boxers with red lip prints all over them. She almost couldn't take her eyes off those little crimson lips that speckled the material, but she forced her eyes away, away and upwards. Her gaze traveled over Angel's rippled abdomen, past his smooth chest, lingered for a moment at the wide breadth of his shoulders, then at last, reached his face. Dark brown eyes met hers and held. Buffy felt all the air whoosh out of her lungs.

Her whole body trembled, causing the silk of her robe to slide against her thigh, but she didn't notice. She was held in thrall by the penetrating gaze of Angel's eyes. She'd seen that look before, as if he wanted to devour her. There wasn't time to contemplate that knowledge, though, as Angel took a step toward her, then another.

She should move, do something, Buffy told herself haltingly. She remained rooted in her crouch on the floor.

As Angel came to a stop in front of Buffy, he was snapped out of the uncontrollable lust that had overwhelmed him by the sound of a small crash reaching his ears followed by the clinking of glass. He shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear the image of Buffy's minutely clothed body from his mind. It didn't work, but he looked down anyway, wondering what the small noise had been.

Buffy hadn't even realized the dustpan had slipped out of her hand, causing it to plop with a crack to the tiled-floor and jostling the pieces of glass she'd already swept up. She'd been too focused on Angel's predator-like approach. Now that the trance had been broken, she stared down at the broken pieces of glass that had rattled in the dustpan, looking at them but not really seeing them.

"I, umm, dropped a glass. Earlier. And was just cleaning it up," she mumbled, explaining the mess, and giving Angel an answer to the unasked question of what had sent him racing from his room. Picking the dustpan back up, she took a deep breath. She forced herself not to think about Angel, almost-naked Angel, standing so close. That way led to badness. She couldn't, absolutely could not, let herself think about Angel's body, about running her hands over the smooth muscles of his chest, or...No! Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. This was not good.

"Here," Angel reached down and took the dustpan, grabbing it from the end opposite the one Buffy was holding. He turned and set it on the counter, all the while telling himself he needed to get out of the kitchen, fast. One close call was one too many. Who knew what would happen if he stayed in here much longer with Buffy wearing that sexy robe and underwear?

Turning back to Buffy, Angel opened his mouth to say something. He wasn't sure what. Instead, his eyes landed right on the front of her robe, which was gaping open as Buffy still knelt on the floor. From the position where Angel was standing, he could see right down the front and he swallowed hard at the sight of the slope of her breasts and the lacy edge of her pale blue bra. He really, really needed to get away from her. The sooner the better.

The flare of heat in Angel's eyes made Buffy look down and she noticed the compromising state of her robe. She jerked a hand up, pressing the material against her skin. The quick move, along with her flustered mind, shifted her balance and she swayed backwards, nearly falling on her backside.

"Let me help you up," Angel offered, seeing her uncomfortable position. He tried not to think about his own comfort, or lack thereof. If he didn't leave soon, Buffy was sure to notice the predicament inside his boxers. He couldn't do anything about that at the moment. So he would help Buffy up, then get the hell out of the kitchen. A cold shower would probably be a good idea, too.

Still clutching the top of her robe together, Buffy hesitated in taking Angel's proffered hand. All she wanted to was to get back to her room where maybe she'd be able to start breathing again and maybe the little, okay big, flutters in her stomach would go away. So instead, she started to push upwards to stand, but her balance was still off. Before she could stop herself, she grasped at Angel's hand.

A searing jolt of heat shot up Angel's arm at the contact and he knew he'd made a fatal mistake. He should never have let himself touch her, innocently or not. There was no way he was going to be able to fight the desire that had been building for over twenty-four hours now.

Buffy sucked in a breath as Angel squeezed her hand and tugged her to her feet. Her lesser height left her staring at Angel's chest. She had a brief thought that it seemed larger than it had four years ago, but it flitted away quickly. How could she think of much at a moment like this?

Angel took a step forward, causing his body to brush hers. She jerked her head up and opened her mouth, but whatever she had meant to say got lost somewhere between her brain and her vocal chords. The dangerous look in Angel's eyes made her sway closer, made her body fit more firmly against his.

The move sapped whatever remained of Angel's already stretched thin control. He wanted Buffy and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, he could do about it. Except act.

There wasn't a thing Buffy could do except stare wide-eyed as Angel's mouth descended upon hers. The moment their lips touched, there wasn't anything she wanted to do except surrender to the kiss, to the feel of Angel.

The merest touch of lips set off flames that flashed bright and fast. A switch had been flipped and neither had the control or the desire to shut it off again. Only one thing could sate the desire that burned brightly in each: to give in to needs that were too strong to quell with inaction.


CENSORED! (scene removed - full version can be found on my website)
Reality intruded slowly in the form of the uncomfortable, hard surface of the table, and the heavy weight of Angel's body on hers. Oh God, Buffy moaned silently. Angel was naked. On top of her. Inside her. She'd just had sex with Angel. Hot, raw, absolutely fantastic sex. In her kitchen. On the kitchen table.

Similar thoughts were rushing through Angel's head, but the enormity of what they'd just done hadn't yet hit him. He was still too caught up in the last vestiges of an explosive climax that left him weak-limbed. Forced to face the moment when he felt Buffy shift beneath him, he pulled away.

"I didn't mean to crush you," he apologized, standing unashamedly naked before her.

Eyes averted, and a swift heat rushing up her face, Buffy, too, stood. So this was that unpleasant post-sex moment? Somehow, she'd never experienced it before. "No, umm...I...it's okay." She scooted around him and snatched up her robe, completely oblivious to the underwear she left behind.

Following her lead, Angel tugged on his boxer shorts, at a loss of what to say or do. He hadn't planned this. He hadn't wanted to do this. In fact, he'd wanted to avoid it at all costs. Stupid. He should have known it was inevitable. He'd never been able to resist Buffy. So now what?

"Buffy," he said hesitantly, worriedly.

The tone of his voice set Buffy on edge. She knew what he was going to say. A mistake. He was going to tell her it was all a mistake, that they shouldn't have just had amazing sex on her kitchen table. Or anywhere. He would tell her that their relationship was long over, and the implication would be there that he didn't trust her because of what she'd done to him before.

Oh, how she hated it. All of it. Angel had been the best thing that had ever happened to her years ago. And she'd ruined it, chased Angel away. Regret had been with her ever since. Now, Angel was back and they were almost friends, something they'd never been before, really. Yes, it had been awkward at times, but in her heart, she was grateful to have him back in her life. And now, she'd had a taste of what she'd missed for so long, only to be told it was a mistake and would never happen again. She didn't want to hear it.

"No, don't say it," she ordered with a sharp shake of her head.

Angel's brows drew together. Say what? "I-" A loud knock on the door echoed into the kitchen. Why was it they were always getting interrupted by visitors or phone calls?

"I'll get it," Buffy mumbled immediately and dashed past him.

"Buffy, wait," he attempted to halt her, but she was already at the door.

Just before yanking open the door, Buffy somehow remembered to peak through the peep-hole. She sighed gratefully, flipped the locks and tugged on the door knob. "Faith. Hi."

"Hey, B," the brunette greeted her. Faith stopped before saying anything else and took a long study of Buffy. Silk robe, hastily tied. Mussed hair. Swollen lips. Uh huh. She grinned. "Bad time, huh? I can go jog around the block and come back when you're...finished."

"What? No! Come in!" Buffy grabbed Faith's arm and pulled her into the room, relieved at the safe haven her friend presented. With Faith around, Angel wouldn't be able to give his intended kiss-off speech. She just wasn't ready to hear it yet.

"I don't want to be in the way," Faith said cheekily, and had to hold back a laugh when she saw Angel inch out of the kitchen wearing just a pair of boxers. Spike was going to owe her twenty bucks. She'd told him that Buffy and Angel weren't going to last another day or two without jumping each other. She loved being right.

Faith debated letting Angel sneak away unnoticed, but she was enjoying this way too much. "Hey, Angel," she waved to him.

He stopped and turned his head to glare at her. "Faith." Then he glanced at Buffy and quickly looked away. "I'm, uh, going to go shower," he recited and left them on their own without another word.

"Have fun?" Faith asked Buffy, grinning.

"I was just about to eat breakfast," Buffy lied without compunction. Her friend could be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Most times.

A chuckle rumbled in Faith's throat. She had a good idea what breakfast had been. Slipping around Buffy, she moved to the kitchen. Just as she thought. Reaching down, she picked up a piece of blue lace. "Breakfast, huh?"

Blushing furiously, Buffy jerked the underwear out of Faith's hand and hastily picked up the matching bra off the floor. The least Angel could have done was take them with him when he'd abandoned her to deal with Faith's taunting alone. It was obvious Faith knew what they had just done, but Buffy wasn't about to confirm or deny.

"I was in the middle of getting dressed when the phone rang," she fibbed again.

"Right. The phone." Shaking her head, Faith walked over to the counter to pour a cup of coffee. She'd get it out of Buffy eventually.


"Buffy, we really need to talk," Angel relayed gently as he trekked down the hallway behind Buffy.

She'd barely said two words to him in the two hours that had passed since the...incident...in the kitchen. After Faith left, Buffy had locked herself away in her room and Angel had opted to leave her alone for the time being. They would talk at some point, and in between, he could try to figure out this whole messy situation.

Ten minutes earlier, Buffy had informed him she needed to go to the gallery to look things over for her exhibition tomorrow night. He'd been tempted to press her to talk, but the way she avoided looking directly at him made Angel put it off a little while longer. Now that they were on their way out of her apartment, he'd decided to bring the subject up.

"No, we don't," she denied. "It happened. It's over. The end. There's no use talking about it." The best defense was offense, Buffy decided. Angel couldn't give her the it-was-a-mistake diatribe if she didn't let him. If she beat him to it. It didn't matter if she didn't believe what they'd done was wrong. He did.

Angel opened his mouth to deny her claim, but opted to remain quiet. He hadn't expected her to act this way, to say what she said. It had him more than a little confused. She was behaving as if nothing had happened. How could she push aside what they'd done? And why did it matter to him? Hadn't he told himself just last night that nothing could happen between him and Buffy, that he was just her bodyguard while she was in trouble? So why was he bothered by her denial? Damned if he knew.

"Fine," he relented as they stepped into the elevator. He'd let it go. For now.

A minute later, they reached the lobby of Buffy's apartment building. Angel pulled his keys out of his pocket. "My car's out front."

"No, that's okay. I want to drive," she told him tensely, still not looking directly at Angel.

"Drive? You have a car?" he replied in surprise.

"Yeah," she nodded. "It's parked in the underground garage. The elevator doesn't go down that far so we have to take the stairs." After explaining, she walked to a door labeled 'stairs'.

Angel followed silently. Things had been weird between them ever since he'd showed up at her door with Faith after the break-in at her apartment, but now they were even worse. It was like walking on egg shells. One wrong step or word, and everything would shatter.

Once in the garage, Buffy strode with stiff steps to a car parked in the middle. Angel's eyes widened as she stopped beside a burgundy Mercedes convertible. He whistled appreciatively. "Nice car."

"Thanks," Buffy gave him a slight smile. "It was a gift from Giles and Jenny after my first show a few years ago. I don't get to drive it that much, though."

Pressing a button on her keychain, a double-beep followed and the locks clicked up. Buffy opened the driver's side door and slipped into the car, sighing at the soft leather of the seat. She really loved her car. Angel soon joined her, overcrowding the fairly small interior space and filling the air with his presence. She promptly started the engine and pressed the button to open the roof.

Bon Jovi blasted out of the stereo and made Angel's ears ring. He considered asking her to turn it down or doing it himself, but he had a feeling that the loud music would be much more pleasant than the tense silence that would otherwise exist. Music he could deal with right now, silence he couldn't.


Three and a half hours later Buffy found that she'd run out of things to do at the gallery to occupy her time. The trip should have taken less than an hour, but she'd been desperate to keep busy and done anything possible to delay leaving. Between checking over the placement of her paintings, verifying the program, chatting with employees, a few other random things, and checking her paintings again, she'd managed to pass most of the afternoon. Angel had long since abandoned following her around and had found a desk with a phone to make some calls. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been relieved by that.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything left for her to do or find to do. She couldn't put off returning to Angel and heading back to her apartment any longer. As she climbed the stairs to the second floor office area, Buffy debated what she could do once she was home to avoid being around Angel or talking to him. If it wasn't still so early, she could say she was going to bed, but it was only around five in the evening.

Angel heard the light steps on the stairs and sighed. Buffy was finally done avoiding him. He was perfectly aware of what she'd done. It hadn't been hard to figure out. He also knew why, but he hadn't called her on it. He was just as unsettled as she seemed to be.

The two hours he'd spent at the available desk hadn't helped him to clear his own mind, though. He'd made a few phone calls, one to the lab tech going over evidence from the attacks on Buffy. His hope that something had turned up to point them in someone's direction hadn't come to fruition. There still weren't any clues at all as to her assailant's identity.

At least the free time had given Angel an opportunity to set up security for the opening tomorrow night. With so many people expected, the danger to Buffy would greatly increase. Luckily, his captain had also seen that and assigned another two officers to keep watch while they were at the gallery. They would be a good backup. Angel, though, didn't plan to let anything happen. He would be atBuffy's side the entire time.

When Buffy stepped into the room, Angel glanced up. "Ready to go?" he inquired casually, not letting on that he knew of her little charade about being busy.

"Yes," she replied formally.

"Okay." Angel rose from the chair, grabbing the few papers he jotted notes down on. By the time he reached the doorway, Buffy was already at the bottom of the stairs.

They walked without speaking through the gallery and into a storage room at the back. Buffy had parked in a small lot behind the building. She called out a few goodbyes and opened the door. Angel's eyes were on his surroundings as he trailed behind Buffy. Nothing seemed out of place, but he was getting a weird feeling.

Buffy's violent curse alerted Angel that his suspicions were correct. He moved in a flash to Buffy's side and had his gun in hand.

"What's wrong?" he snapped, scanning for the danger.

"Look!" she waved an angry hand at her car.

Eyes narrowed, Angel stared hard at the Mercedes. All four tires were slashed. No, not just slashed, but shredded.

"Damnit!" he growled as he pulled out his cell phone to call for backup.


TBC!