Laughing, Buffy flipped Angel over and straddled him, grabbing his wrists to bring his arms over his head and claim a kiss. He broke free and turned the tables, his arms wrapped around her. "God, Buffy, this feels so good. And so familiar. Do you think it's all those dreams we shared last winter?" He nuzzled her, feeling her pulse, blessedly free of blood lust.

"I think it's all those wild fantasies you had about me," she teased, wiggling under him.

"I've had a few of those," he confessed.

"Well, good," she said, giving him a kiss. "I'd hate to think I was the only one fantasizing wildly. So, tell me, what did you fantasize about?"

"Why don't I show you, instead?" he asked, sliding down her body.

"Oh yes," she said. Then repeated herself. Repeatedly.

Saturday evening

Angel drifted back to consciousness, no longer quite so surprised to feel the Slayer in his arms. He mused pleasantly on their afternoon together. It had been so wonderful, he thought, really nothing like — a cascade of memory crashed into him — Buffy writhing under him, his fangs buried in her neck — Buffy crying for mercy, begging him to stop as he plundered her in animalistic abandon. The memories of the night before mercilessly poured into his waking mind and he cringed away from his lover, feeling horribly evil and unclean. Buffy woke as he moved away. "Angel, honey?" she asked sleepily, reaching for him. The sound of his weeping brought her to full alert. She reached again to hold him and he pushed her away.

"How can you touch me after what I did to you?" he asked, weeping.

Buffy started to cry as well. "It wasn't you," she said adamantly.

Angel stood and wrapped a robe around himself and began striding about the room.

"I don't have the excuse of losing my soul this time," he said angrily. "That wasn't the demon. It was me." "No," Buffy objected. "It wasn't you, it was like when you came back from Hell. It was like there was an animal in control of you. It was the vampire — and he's gone."

He whirled to face her. "You don't know that. What if that happened again?"

"You can't drain me anymore," she said. "That's the only reason I wasn't strong enough to stop you."

His eyes lit with an unpleasant understanding.

"That's why I'm as strong as you," he said. "I was full of your blood — Slayer blood — when the demon blood touched me. I have your strength."

"And that's a good thing," she said. "You're not a normal man, you can keep fighting evil, this time, by my side."

"No," he said, his face full of misery and shame. "There's no good here. It's stolen strength. You didn't give it to me of your own will this time." She stood before him and gripped his hands in hers.

"If I had known what was going to happen, I would have," she said, absolutely.

"But you didn't. You thought I was going to kill you. And I would have."

"But you didn't, and now that will never happen," she rejoined, wiping at her tears furiously. "We finally had a lucky break. We can be together now. Sunshine? Picnics? Check. So why are we still here in the dark?" she asked, taking his hand again. He shook it off.

"I may not be a vampire, but I'm still a monster. How can you touched me after I forced you?"

Buffy took a deep breath and prayed for strength.

"Because I can. I lived though all that Angelus concocted for me, and I lived though last night. I didn't die. Believe me, I know the difference. I don't even have any new scars."

Angel rebuffed her seeking hands and huddled into a corner.

"Get away from me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm not fit for human company, and certainly not yours. Forget about me."

Buffy watched him try to melt into the shadows.

"I'll never forget you," she said, then turned and ran into the elevator. Slamming the door shut, she watched him as she gradually rose out of sight.