Authors Note: Thanks for all the support for the story. You probably noticed I created it four years ago . . . and never finished. Well, I hope this chapter makes up for it.
Please review! Thank you.
"Angel," I cried out. "Angel." My forehead was covered in sweat, and I didn't have the energy to open my eyes. I was alone, though. I knew that.
"Angel.. . I… I n-never," I mumbled. It was no use. Who could hear me? My friends were downstairs. They had just saved me from death, only to have some bloodsucking scumbag bring me right back to Death's Door. And this time, I didn't mean Spike.
As I lay there, on my sweat soaked bed, I couldn't help but think back… to the memories.
"Angel!" I giggled, lying on his bed at the mansion as he tickled me. It really was a comfy bed, and although I knew of a better way to use it. . . that wasn't possible. That is, unless I wanted Angelus (not Angel) to tickle me with his fangs, instead of fingers. "Angel! Stop!" Really, I was going to lose it. We both fell back, laughing. A rare moment of happiness; I even got a smile out of that boy.
If I though he couldn't be anymore handsome, I was wrong. As hot and sexy as he was brooding, happy he was-well, smoldering.
"So . . . what should we do now?" his voice, God his voice. We had just come back from patrolling, and were looking to burn off a little steam. Tickle fights, was my idea. But Angel was a good sport. Behind his knees, I find is his ticklish spot.
"I… don't…. know…" I said, as I traced the opening of his black silk shirt.
'Buffy-" He caught my hand in his, his grip gentle yet firm. "We can't." I sat up at than, embarrassed.
"Angel, I, I'm sorry. This isn't fair to you."
"No," he said, and his voice was like a hand that caressed my skin, " it's not fair to you. You should be with someone who-" This time it was me, who stopped the talking. With my mouth.
At first, he was hesitant, he usually is. But when I got his mouth to open for mine, Angel flipped us over on the bed. I soon found myself lying beneath him, his tongue exploring my mouth. God, the taste-
"Angel," I moaned again, and the memory slipped away. "What?" I mumbled, tossing. I couldn't remember my last sentence.
Hurry, Angel, hurry.
I love you. Don't let me forget us.