Author's Notes: Thank you guys once again for the amazing feedback. This chapter here is full of delicious angst, sex, and darkness, so I have to mention that as a warning if there's any young readers out there. Feedback is still and always welcome. I tend to get a lot of feedback asking me where I'm taking a story, or what may happen next. Usually when I get those kinds of questions, I try not to explain it in the author's notes because I want the readers to try to figure out, as is the case for this story as well. Anyways, guys, enjoy!

Chapter Seven

As soon as I was alone in the dim parking lot, Cordelia and Willow ran up towards me. I hadn't even notice the sounds of boots clacking on the pavement from behind until their voices were calling out my name. I was too occupied with succumbing to numbness and hurt to pay them any mind. In seconds, I felt soft hands pressing gently against my shoulders, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"What in the freakin' hell just happened over here? Yelling over burgers and fries? It's blasphemous, and shouldn't be allowed," Cordelia's voice rose in octaves before quickly noticing the distraught expression that was displayed on my face. "It was Angel. He was here," I responded softly, rapidly blinking my eyes to forget the memories and words of the last twenty minutes.

In spite of my resistance, they still hung heavily in my mind, as if they were cigarette smoke billowing in the air and nothing else.

"He was here?" came Willow with a frown as she approached me, pulling me into a fierce hug. It was difficult to keep a face straight when she was around.

I nodded solemnly against her shoulder, unaware that my left hand was fingering the claddagh ring. I knew for certain that I wasn't going to keep the damn thing any longer. It was now considered meaningless to me. If Angel became furious that I 'gave' it away, so be it. I didn't care any more.

It wasn't worth keeping it if it meant getting stabbed in the heart.

Still, I couldn't help but be worried about his recent revelation. I knew it was only a matter of time before the situation became worse. Releasing myself from Willow's embrace, I struggled to face both her and Cordelia in the eye.

What should I say about Angel? Should I keep my mouth shut and keep his secret to myself? Was it any of my business about what he was doing? What would happen if I kept quiet? What if tonight was the last time I ever saw him again? Alive? Should I even care? It was apparent that he didn't want me around, especially not for tonight's performance. I didn't know what to do. I was lost in confusion; undecided about what to do next.

Anxiety and fear was slowly building up within me, and I didn't know how to quell it. My heart lurched at coming to a decision. I remained quiet, going over on what to decide to tell them while they looked on with concern.

"C'mon Buffy, talk to us. What's going on?" Willow pressed.

"I…," I stuttered, not knowing where to begin. Should I even say anything? My mind was telling me to speak up, but my heart was another story. "Did something happened between you two? If something's going on with Angel, you have to tell us."

I could feel the pressure building up from Willow's words. She was right, of course. Even so, Cordelia came to my relief before I could say anything. "Maybe it's nothing. If coming here is doing nothing but being a pain in my ass, let's, I don't know, return the tickets and backstage passes. It's not worth making Buffy uncomfortable if it means having to be close to Angel again."

Even with relief evident on my face, Willow and I were stunned. Since when did Cordy cared about anyone else's well being? Especially mine? "Cordy, you're not running a fever from lack of shoe shopping, are you?" I quipped. I could feel a bleak smile sneaking upon my mouth.

"I have you know that not every day I think about shoes, clothes, my hair, or anything else in that order. I think about other things. As long as it's not anything dirty or smelly, or vomit inducing," Cordelia sulked, pretending to be insulted as she fluffed a tendril of her hair with a wave of her hand, chin raised defiantly. "Fine, fine. Let's just drop off the tickets and head back to good ole' Sunnyhell. I think I need to get my roots bleached anyways. They're starting to look like my fossil dad's gray hairs. Eww," she continued with revulsion.

I snickered in spite of the whirling emotions that were continuing to pull me apart. "Are you okay?" Willow walked beside me. "At this point, Will, I'm definitely not. I'm not sure what to do," I confessed as we made our way back towards the car. "You never did tell us what happened. Are you up for letting us know?"

"When I'm ready. I don't think I can right now." I avoided her eyes. I could tell that she wanted to protest, but in the end, she simply nodded.

My only hope was that in keeping silent, Angel's life won't fall directly into my hands. But maybe it was already too late.

"Angel, what… in the hell… are you doing? That's the third syringe you injected today. You need to stop. You can't have all of it to yourself you know," the blond woman barked, reaching out to pull a black make up bag full of cocaine and needles away from his protective hold.

"I can, and I will. What's to stop me from injecting the fourth needle into my skin? You? Just look at yourself. You're high as a kite. You can't even stand or sit up straight. You can't even breathe. You're jumping around like a hyena. You're not in any condition to give out orders," he snarled, edging away from her as his eyes looked out of the tinted window, black bag in hand. His eyes appeared as if he wanted to be anywhere else but in the back of the limo.

Some part of him did, but he shook the thought before his mind could process it. He knew what he truly wanted, but he couldn't allow himself to admit the truth. After what had happened earlier tonight, it wasn't right for him to even ponder about.

In spite of the haze he was experiencing, he warily sighed. Maybe another bout of sex would lift the emptiness buried in his heart. "Come 'ere," he ordered, his voice unbalanced as he extended his arm to reach for his lover. "Why should I?" she snapped, her arms folded across her chest, hair and clothes disheveled and stained with lines of coke.

"Because I need you. Take off your clothes. I'll make it all worthwhile." His voice turned seductive, all traces of anger and impatience abruptly gone as he unzipped his pants, his shaft fully exposed to her.

He reached out to unbutton her blouse, noticing that she didn't put up any resistance as he pulled the hem of her skirt over her waist, tugging forward a pair of lace pink underwear as he tossed it against the leather seats, spreading her legs open until her center was revealed, her body slipping underneath his, tearing his shirt apart as long nails seeped into his flesh.

"Fuck me," she impatiently demanded.

She had no idea of what was to come. It was not going to be just an ordinary fuck. This time, he was going to make it hurt. Whether she'd enjoy it or not was not his concern. Animal lust and pain took over as he entered her, stretching her as hard as he possibly could as she gasped loudly in pain, nails digging into the skin of his back as she expressed herself in a string of expletives, her mouth forming into an "O" as her pelvis buckled up to meet his.

In the fogginess of his mind, he didn't see the blond woman below him. Instead, he saw an image of Buffy. When he saw her, he quickened his thrusts, arching his back as he pumped furiously into her womanhood until it began to bleed, loud moans and lust intertwining together in abused harmony.

Keeping her image in his mind, it took moments before his warm seed exploded inside of her, his body finally collapsing in misplaced bliss as he murmured the wrong name.

"Buffy."