A/N: So sorry that it took me so long to update this fic, but I've been kind of working on a fucked-up frame. School in the last year before you graduate is surprisingly hard. You'd think it'd be a breeze, but no. Not to mention the fact that my computer tried to crash. I called up one of my geek friends, and, what-do-you-know, he fixed the shit in about five minutes. Figures. Of course, before he fixed it I lost all of my music (this comprised about half of the memory space on my computer), so of course I'm also busy trying to get it all back. Not surprisingly, my disc drive is pissed at the thought of having to rip all of this music onto the computer. Again.

But oh well. It's time to plunge back into the story, with full steam ahead. In response to one reviewer, that the Phoenix storyline didn't seem to fit, well, you'll just have to wait and see. Because, you see, this is the thirteenth chapter. And if anyone thinks that I'm just going to let that little number slide, well, they're dead wrong. To borrow a tagline from the Harry Potter movies:

Everything is going to change.

Distribution: Wow, I haven't included this in a while. But, yeah, I've been searching the web for stories lately, and it would be pretty sweet to see my story listed. Also: IMPORTANT NOTE: someone once asked if they would be okay in listing my story on LiveJournal. I've been reading most of the stuff posted on that community (­xangel), so if anyone wants to give me a shout-out over there, then that would be great. Just tell me in a review if you've taken it, where it's going, and make sure that my name is on it.

And also, for you romantics out there, yes, this is where Xander and Angelus meet again. This chapter is planned to be pretty long, so hang in there – it's going to take place over a while, as this chapter is going to set up plot for most of the story. So, with all that aside, I am proud to present:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer:

the Passion of Angels and Demons

Chapter XIII

The Celebration of Ostara

The sun had set slowly that day as winter slowly began to release her sinuous power over the earth, allowing spring to rise as a breath of fresh air. The days were beginning to increase, moving closer and closer to the Vernal Equinox. In a town as charged with otherworldy energy as Sunnydale, the Ostara celebration would signify one of the Days of Power, a Witch's Sabbat, and everyone in the Court of Angelus could feel the tingle of whispered magic in the air.

It was slowly driving Angelus mad.

It had been more than a week since he had last seen his boy, and he'd been absolutely itching to take the brief trip down the stairs from the room that he'd been staying in and reclaim the Master's suite that the minions had made up for him. Hell with the room, he just wanted Xander. Wanted to Claim him, wanted to bite him…oh, hell yes, he wanted to bite him. But the urge to bite him after a hard fuck was even stronger. The brief taste of Xander's suppressed passion had had him hard as a rock every night since.

His Childers had felt it, of course; if he was to be deprived of his sweet boy, then he sure as hell wasn't going to remain celibate. That had been Angel's little trick, thank you very much. No wonder dear St. Buffy was enough to lose the Soul, Angelus thought contemptuously. Angel hadn't gotten off in nearly a century, boy or girl, nothing. Angelus had hated that in his little cage in the back of Angel's dull little mind nearly as much as he hated never feeding off of humans. Vampires were by nature very sexual creatures, and to be deprived of his two greatest pleasures because of his lost human soul's suddenly monk-like tendencies had been horrific.

Really, Liam, the man, had been a drunk, whoring idiot. He'd reached his manhood as a drunken layabout who won his peers' respect by fucking three barmaids in one night and then getting off with one of the stable boys. Suddenly getting his soul back after a century of being a vampire, and suddenly he was all with the white hat priest consciousness. Angelus sighed. He knew what he was doing. He was stalling. He'd been doing this for a while; thinking random and useless thoughts about the past in an effort to stop himself from dwelling entirely upon Xander every day of the week.

Sure, he'd fucked Dru, he'd fucked Spike, hell, he'd fucked Jesse until she'd cried in pain and begged him to stop. It didn't matter. He was still fucking hard. Even Drusilla, inexhaustible whore that she was, had pleaded with him to stop after the fourth time. He needed something more satisfying. He needed what he'd been lusting after for more than a month now. He needed to be inside Xander, pounding inside his hot, luscious hole and hearing that sweet mouth begging him to stay with him, seeing those searing chocolate eyes glaze over with lust and desire.

Jesse had, as it turned out, some amazing stamina for a minion. He smirked as he remembered how loud she'd screamed when he'd sunk his fangs deep into her full, bouncing breast as she rode him. No doubt she'd been lording his attentions over the other minions for days now, but ever since she'd finally been smart enough to notice that he wasn't begging her back into his bed, such as it was, she'd been a little subdued. Which was good; the last thing that he needed was a pissed off minion making cow eyes at him every second of the day.

Spike, on the other hand…he'd been surly ever since Angelus had returned, and no doubt he was feeling it deeply that not only was Drusilla not mooning over him anymore, he was also no longer Angelus' favorite boy. Sure, he'd enjoyed the sex, Angelus had made sure of that, but it just wasn't there anymore with Spike. He'd been gone so long that his stupid, brash, lovely little William the Bloody had been forced to grow up and take care of himself. He had to admire how long that he'd taken care of Dru as well, but the canny awareness that one needed to become just such a survivor had sucked the appealing innocence and submission out of Spike as well.

Innocence and submission…two traits that his Xander displayed in such great amounts. He seemed to be drawn to that in men, Angelus mused. He smirked. Well, I ain't getting any deader, he thought to himself. Enough thinking. He turned to the closet that held a few of his clothes. The closet in the master suite, of course, had most of his clothing, but he had some good things in here. And while he couldn't use a mirror, many mortals would be surprised how good one can get at taking care of one's own appearance without the use of a reflection. He carefully felt through his hair until he was sure that it looked messily ordered. He slipped into a white button up shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone, and a pair of black leather pants. He didn't bother with a belt. He smirked. His name wasn't Angelus for nothing; he was a gorgeous sight right now and he knew it. He was pretty much counting on Xander to notice it as well.

He finally, finally headed down the stairs towards his sweet boy's chambers. He paused for a moment to be glad that he had already fed, and fed well tonight: three sweet girls that had been giggling a little drunkenly on their way home from the Bronze. He'd finger fucked the last one of them while he had fed off of her, and the orgasm had spiced up the blood, sure; but it just wasn't the same. He hadn't even had the desire to fuck her to death – all that he had wanted was to go back to Xander. Well, he was going to get what he was after; hell, maybe he'd bide the day with his boy. Now that was a tempting thought.

As he descended, he caught sight of Lucien, his able-bodied guard, and paused for a moment, thinking. He remembered the first day that he'd assigned the minion to guarding his Cruor Aduro, and the fireworks of his court day. He also remembered heading up the stairs to find a clearly annoyed and distinctly ruffled-looking vampire standing outside of Xander's door. He'd frowned.

"What is it, Lucien?" he'd asked quietly, softly enough that Xander wouldn't be able to hear him.

"Nothing, Master," the minion had replied in equally soft, polite tones. It was clear that Angelus wouldn't be able to get anything out of him short of torture, so he'd merely nodded and continued on his way. Now, however, he was curious as to how Xander had been able to get under the extremely composed guard's feathers so very quickly. He shook his head. Did he really need to wonder? His boy had a way of annoying anyone and everyone around him to the point that his souled self had thought often that Gandhi would have been tempted to hit Xander in an effort to shut him up.

Throughout the week, Angelus had been asking daily for reports on Xander. The boy was restless, he was told, and he ate little. He would generally eat and drink what was provided to him, but not nearly as much as he normally did when amongst the Scooby Gang. He consistently asked where Angelus was, and the guard had seemed pleased to report that this was not entirely Xander's wish to speak with him; Xander generally seemed quite fearful that Angelus had forgotten about him, and wanted to be reassured of his presence.

Angelus had smiled to himself when he'd heard of this update, but he'd been worried about the food. No matter, he told himself now. He'd get it all sorted out when he spoke to the boy today. He'd see how Xander acted around him, and then they could talk again. The boy obviously wanted to, he thought with a small smirk.

"Lucien," he said presently. The guard had the grace to force himself not to jump at the sudden sound, but Angelus could see that the vampire had been startled by the noise. One of the benefits of having lived successfully through his first century as a vampire was the fact that he no longer needed to sleep through the entire day. It was a skill that Angelus had achieved gratefully, as it helped many vampires to survive longer.

"Yes, master?" the minion asked respectfully, recovering. Yes, entirely too much time under the wings of the Master and the Anointed One – far too much emphasis on politesse and appearances. Angelus sighed, but he shook off the annoyance. He could smell Xander's damnably sweet scent wafting through the door, could practically feel the amazing amount of body heat that his lovely young body managed to produce…oh yeah, Angelus was looking forward to this meeting.

"It's time," Angelus said confidently. "Unlock the door."

"Yes, sir," Lucien said, quickly complying. "I think that he is awake now, sir," the minion said as he moved on to the second lock. "He seems to be adapting to our schedule fairly well." Angelus raised a brow. This was one of the longest little speeches that he'd ever heard Lucien utter, himself.

"Good," he said now, the smirk fighting its way back onto his face. Lucien moved to the side with a deferential air, letting Angelus walk forward and into the chambers within. He drew in an unneeded breath to compose himself, then strutted forward confidently into the room. He heard the door shut behind him, but stopped as he surveyed the room. The armoire was still where it was, but the bed was untouched. It was clear, he understood in a flash of anger, that Xander had been sleeping on a pile of blankets he'd made for himself on the floor. The table he'd had brought in was fine, but both the chairs were wrecked and in pieces, and the fire was burning strongly. It lit up the room rather cozily, including where Xander was sitting, on the small chest at the foot of the bed, his knees drawn up almost fearfully to his chin, a makeshift stake clutched in his hand.

IIII

Xander had woken up that evening aching as he always did, but he fought off the thought that he'd be much more comfortable on the bed. He hadn't slept on the bed and he didn't intend to. The thought of being in Angelus' bed was far too tempting, and he needed to keep his wits about him. So he fought off the soreness in his back and got up. He grabbed some more of his clothes from the massive closet and threw them on in the bathroom. At least they'd thought to provide him with a shower in there. Vampires might have got off on the whole personal body odor thing, but he was more of clean person by nature. Once he'd showered and gotten dressed, he'd walked out into the room.

There wasn't a lot that he had planned for today, other than to wonder where Angelus was. He sighed. He couldn't get the damn vampire out of his head! It didn't matter that he was angry or scared. All he could think of was the night in the Bronze, when he'd held him so close, or the one kiss that they'd shared…

Nothing much mattered anymore. He had to get out of here, and soon, because he was falling fast. Angelus was fast becoming everything that he'd promised Xander he would be: the most important thing in his life. His food, his fire, his clothes…everything came from Angelus, and Xander was aching to see the demon again, if only to scream and yell and throw things at him. Or to beg him to hold him, to touch him and smell that strangely appealing scent, to—

Stop. Now, Xander commanded himself, frightened. Those thoughts weren't some crazy thing sent by Angelus through some wacked-out magic thing. Those were his, and they were bad. Bad to be thinking about vampires like that. Bad to think about a guy like that! Bad to think about Buffy's ex like that! Just bad. Next thing you knew, he'd be thinking Spike was hot. Ugh! He snorted in self-disgust. Look at him, poor little Xander, bouncing around from crush to crush in some hope that someone might just like him back…

He sighed, fighting back tears of frustration. He was going out of his mind. He'd even taken a charred stick from the fireplace and scratched out the days that he'd been here on the wall, prison-style. He wanted to go home, but he didn't. He wanted to see Angelus, but was scared of what would happen when they finally saw each other again. He didn't know what he wanted. He just knew that he was about to explode.

It was then that he heard the voice outside the room. His voice. The voice that Xander had been aching to hear for days, the voice that was haunting his dreams and his waking thoughts. He pressed his ear to the door longingly, but he couldn't hear what was specifically being said. He heard Lucien's voice, though, and smirked a little at that. The guard still wouldn't come near him whenever he ventured into the room with food. But that was probably it, Xander thought with a sigh. Just to check in on the prisoner and go on. He had been stupid to swallow all of Angelus' crap at the Bronze. He was just a toy to use to get to Buffy, and that was it, he was convinced of that now. That or maybe some big joke because he remembered all of the tension between him and Angel.

That was when the lock started turning. Xander froze, the classic deer-in-the-headlights-playing-chicken-on-the-highway pose. What the hell was he going to do? He wasn't ready to see Angelus again! Panicking, he turned this way and that, wringing his hands. The door was opening. He hurled himself toward the bed, grabbing a stick on the way. He was trembling, unsure whether from fear or desire, as the luscious, gorgeous immortal god that was Angelus stalked into the room, his every movement radiating power and…sex.

Walking porn, that's what he was, Xander figured as he drew his knees up like a child and watched the vampire survey the room. Sex on a stick. Every movement he made was erotic in a way that Xander didn't think he'd ever be able to understand or survive. And as Xander watched those unfathomable raven eyes narrow as they surveyed the damaged chairs, he had a sudden disorienting rush of vertigo. It might not have been the best idea to damage the furniture, Xander thought in hindsight.

IIII

Angelus froze. Xander sat in the room like a child who knew that they'd done something naughty, and the boy winced when Angelus' eyes flashed from the damaged chairs to him. His grip on the stake was firm, but he couldn't suppress the trembling in his limbs when Angelus took another step toward him. He saw Xander subconsciously sweep his eyes over his figure, drinking in every detail, and he could feel some of his good humor returning.

"Did the chairs piss you off that much?" Angelus inquired innocently. Xander sighed slightly at the sound of his voice, he noticed with an inward smile. The boy stood, putting some distance between them as he thought about what to say. His hands unconsciously rubbed at the leather collar still fastened around his neck, but he didn't seem too perturbed about the collar's presence anymore.

"I tried to kill hulk-man out there with one of them," Xander said absently, still refusing to meet Angelus' eyes. The vampire nearly sighed with ill-hidden sexual frustration. Did the human in front of him have the slightest idea how erotic his unknown submissive nature was to him? Did he have any idea how very much Angelus wanted him at the moment? "I was thinking of trying the same thing on you," he said after a moment, suddenly surly. Probably not, Angelus thought wryly.

"Why?" he asked innocently. That didn't seem to be the right thing to say, as Xander finally found the inner courage to meet his eyes. The boy looked pretty damn mad, too. Angelus was surprised to find himself enjoying the fact that he couldn't find the right buttons to press in Xander all the time. Sometimes, surprises are a good thing for an immortal.

"Why?! Why?!" Xander yelled angrily. He swelled like an angry bullfrog as the rant began. "You put a fucking collar on me! I have a hulking asshole outside my door that decides when I eat, I haven't left this fucking room in a week, and you were gone and I didn't know if you'd just forgotten me or were out murdering my friends or screwing Buffy or—"

He stopped at the fact that Angelus was suddenly there in front of him, his broad, calloused yet artfully shaped hand gently smoothing along Xander's cheek. The look in the vampire's eyes was suddenly unaccountably gentle, and Xander found himself losing all the urge in the world to struggle against this moment, this insane thing that was inexplicably between them and probably always had been.

Angelus found himself studying the lovely, expressive face beneath his hand, soothing the angry lines away with his fingers, loving how Xander leaned into his touch like a dog starving for attention. 'And you were gone,' Xander had said. Angelus smiled gently, human face still in place. "Did you miss me, sweeting?" he asked gently. He watched as the indecision was warring on Xander's face, even as the boy never moved away from the big, gentle hand stroking his cheek.

Xander wasn't prepared for this…kindness. The last time that Angelus had been here, it had been kind of abrupt and cold, kind of hot and soft, a meeting designed to throw Xander off from everything that he'd been expecting. Truth be told, this was doing worse. Where was all of his righteous anger and indignation now? All that he could do was stare into unconscionably warm cinnamon eyes as a cool, beautiful hand stroked him like he was something that mattered. Maybe that was why he couldn't really formulate an answer to…well, anything right now. Not with that unfairly gorgeous angel's face scrutinizing him ever so gently.

Angelus might have been content to stay that way for a while. Kindness and affection, he was realizing quickly, were the key to breaking any and all resistance of Xander's. It had been obvious to the brooding soul that the boy came from an abusive home; whether any of the Scoobies were aware of the fact remained to be seen. Xander had obviously already subconsciously latched on to Angelus as his caretaker, and as long as the gentility of Angelus' gestures remained, Xander was so much putty in the immortal's hands.

"I…" Xander began in a tortured, choked sounding voice.

"Yes?" Angelus asked, never letting the hypnotic stroking stop. Xander was shaking now; with conscious effort, the boy moved to put more distance between him and the demon.

"You were in my house!" Xander yelled suddenly, as if breaking himself out of a trance. Angelus sighed in annoyance; he'd had the boy so close… "You were in my house and you took my clothes—and," he began, faltering suddenly. He looked up at Angelus in fear, and those big doe eyes were suddenly fearful. Angelus had the suddenly irrational urge to pet his boy again, just to get that look out of his eyes. "Are my parents alright?" Xander asked in a muted monotone, not daring to look up at the vampire.

Angelus wanted to moan in sheer frustration. This was what he wanted from Xander so very much! This sheer, unrelenting loyalty, no matter how stupidly placed! The…love that his boy managed to give in such amazing amounts, no matter how he'd been bruised in the past. This was what Angel had had from Xander without even realizing it, the twit, and what Angelus so desperately wanted. No matter how many times his useless, waste of space parents had hurt him, Xander was still more afraid for them than he was for himself, trapped as he was in a vampire's den.

"I didn't kill them," he said quietly. Xander looked up at him, hope dawning in his expression. "I wanted to, though," he growled angrily. Xander looked taken aback at that. His eyes flickered a little wildly around the room, wanting to give voice to the thought in his head, but somehow not being able to.

"Why?"

It should have been a simple enough question, really, but Angelus was finding that it had all sorts of interesting thoughts behind it. They were reaching a turning point here, he could tell; this was an unconscious test of the boy's, and one that Angelus felt strangely zealously determined to pass. No matter what happened after this, one big link in the bridge of Xander's trust was riding entirely on his answer. Angelus was thinking of how to answer it, too; even though it was insane that he, a nearly 250 year old vampire, was agonizing over the answer to the question of a seventeen-year-old boy. No matter how special he was.

"Because they hurt my boy," Angelus finally said simply.

"Oh," Xander said quietly, his mouth staying in that soft O shape, and Angelus could tell that he had just somehow passed the test with flying colors. The question that he wanted to ask the boy was answered by a question, anyway. "I'm your boy?" Xander's voice was soft, as though he was afraid of the answer, but so full of sweet longing that Angelus found that he instinctively knew the answer to this question.

He leaned in and kissed Xander as he had been longing to do for days.

This wasn't the hurried, lustful kiss of the first day, no; this was a rising, full-throated crescendo of passion that took his metaphorical breath away with its power. Something was building between the two of them, something quite unlike anything the world had ever seen, and Angelus had a powerful moment of his Drusilla's prescience that they, and, indeed, the world, were suddenly straddling a knife point.

Xander was riding a wave, a wave of magic that he could not see or hear or taste or touch but nevertheless knew was there. He was surfing the fiery passion of creation itself the way that he'd always yearned to do on Sunnydale's beach in the water. Those strange, over-now kisses with Cordelia had been lustful and passionate; the kiss with Ampata the Incan Mummy Girl had been somehow better, but this…he just seemed to fit into Angelus' embrace in a way that he knew he'd never be able to do with anyone else, as if Angelus was the second part of a puzzle that Xander had been looking for all of his life, unknowingly. Angelus' lips were soft and hard, undeniably masculine, yet somehow so lush that questions of sexual identity just flew straight out the window. He tasted of sex and power, of all the things that Xander could ever dream about and then some. He tasted of iron and copper and rust, a vague scent that Xander could identify as blood and yet somehow still be excited by it.

This kiss rocked the two of them all the way down to their toes, as if they'd been struck by lightning. Angelus was lost to the sweet, innocent taste of Xander, of his enthusiastic lips against his, of the shy tongue that his own, more powerful one was inviting out to play, to explore the way that his own was mapping out Xander's incredible palette. Xander clutched Angelus to him as if he were drowning, and Angelus couldn't stop himself from picking Xander up as easily as if he were a kitten that needed mothering and smothering him in his embrace. They finally pulled apart as Xander remembered that he needed to breathe, and the boy, overcome, buried his face in Angelus' neck, mouthing wordlessly. Angelus was breathing hard in a way he hadn't done in a long, long time, trying to recover from the jolt of passionate power that was still singing in his bloodstream.

"You're my boy," he growled possessively in Xander's ear, and the boy shivered in pleasure at the claiming power in his overprotective demon's voice. "My boy, and mine alone, to have forever." Which, as it turned out, was again the right thing to say. Xander moaned lightly, slumping bonelessly in Angelus' embrace. "I left them alive because it was what you wished, but mark my words – if any dare to lay hand on you again, I'll kill them, no matter who they are." Such simply stated words, but here Angelus was marking out his Claim: Xander was his, no matter what. And the boy seemed to agree wholeheartedly.

Xander, in a strange, disjointed sort of way, felt safer than he ever had. It was this strange surge that went straight through him, all the way to that place inside, the dark place, which was practically purring in pleasure. The scent of Angelus, the way that he fit into the crook in his neck, the way that Angelus held him so protectively, so possessively, made him get the warm fuzzies; he felt kind of like he'd been wrapped up in a fleece blanket. Overwhelmed, overtired, emotionally and physically suddenly sapped of energy, Xander was drifting into a pleasant, warm place where strong hands held him and there wasn't anything worth bothering about, not Buffy or Willow or Giles – he just knew that his friends were as safe as they ever were, intuitively. Maybe it was some of Willow's magic, rubbing off on him, or maybe it was that he knew his protector would never really harm them because it would hurt him, Xander. That knowledge really did it.

Angelus froze slightly as the first salty-hot tear trickled down Xander's face and into his neck. The boy made no effort to hide this, and Angelus relaxed and indeed smiled into the dark, silky brunet locks of Xander's hair. The emotion wasn't fear, or sadness, it was just pure emotion that Xander had no problem displaying in front of him. Things were coming together in ways that he had never expected or foreseen, and though this may have worried him before, now he felt a pulsing sense of peace, of serenity. Surprisingly, his demon was feeling this as well. Maybe it was his boy's dormant magic, maybe it was the aftereffects of bearing a soul for more than a century, he didn't care at the moment…it just was. And he was content with that.

He tilted Xander's head up, staring into those wet, puppy-dog eyes, and smiled slightly. He bent down and licked the tears off of Xander's cheeks, aware of Xander's innocent smile at the slightly animal-like gesture. The boy hesitantly reached out and brushed Angelus' cheek with his hand, and startled the vampire with a request.

"Let me see your face," Xander requested softly. "Your real face."

Angelus froze. This was something he hadn't expected, hadn't counted on…liking so much. But yet again, that warm dollop of something was working its power on him, and he gave in to the pleading eyes of his sweet, warm boy. He felt his demon stretching its power through him, felt his human façade give way, and then Xander's fingers were tentatively exploring frontal lobes and hard ridges. Angelus closed his eyes as the butterfly-kiss fingers worked their homespun magic on him. He panted slightly and rubbed his cheek into the touch. Xander smiled, and in that smile there was a sort of innocence that Angelus felt privileged to see.

"Come, sweet boy," he murmured, offering Xander his hand. There was no hesitation in Xander's eye as he took the demon's proffered hand, and drowsily followed Angelus' lead toward the bed. Angelus turned and gently fingered his collar, and Xander blushed self-consciously at the pleasure he saw in Angelus' face at the sight. Maybe, another time, this would have pissed him off, but he just didn't feel the snark tonight. The sarcasm and the bitterness had left him, for this one night at least, and all he could do was feel.

Angelus took Xander's hand and splayed it on his chest. Xander seemed to get the idea and tentatively explored his chest through the silk shirt. His nipples hardened gradually, a slow burning arousal that was somehow better than their rushed session earlier in the week. Xander slowly unbuttoned the shirt, his fingers moving agonizingly slowly, yet Angelus allowed the slow, lazy exploration. He watched with pleasure at Xander's lust-filled gaze as his pale flesh was bared to the teenager's hungry gaze.

Xander could only stare in wonder at the perfectly developed masculine body before him. Men were just beautiful in a way that women couldn't be. Angelus was hard where Buffy was soft, beautiful in unexpected ways where Cordelia was a classical sculpture. His pale skin offset his invitingly wine-dark nipples wonderfully, and Xander was delighted at the small trail of hair that led from the small belly button to that wonderful area beneath the pants, that area that was starting to grow. He determinedly looked up from that at the strangely beautiful face of his demon, the fangs bared in a way that was entirely non-threatening and possessively protective all at the same time. He loved the way the fierce, hawk-yellow eyes became as soft as golden butter as he captured one of Angelus' inviting nipples in his mouth.

Angelus watched in inflamed arousal as Xander switched from nipple to nipple, as if he couldn't figure out which one tasted better. Things with the boy were happening in a natural way, a way that was somehow so pleasurable that he doubted if either of his Childers, if even Darla could have made him feel this way. Is it like this with every Cruor Aduro? he wondered wildly. Xander's hands were hot as fire and as soft as silk as the shirt slowly fell to the floor, unheeded.

Angelus gently held Xander's head away from his chest as he bent and carefully pulled Xander's shirt over his head. His boy was amazingly golden, not developed but invitingly warm. His dark nipples were dusted with a light covering of hair as dark as the lovely little tufts under his boy's arms, and Angelus smiled as he saw the light freckling around the shoulders. Xander was strong and coltish, lovely and glowing in a way that could only be magical in the firelight. Was it the season, the holiday, the pure magic in the way of Ostara that was making him feel like this? He pulled Xander back into a simple hug, and they both let out a slight breath as their chests made contact, cold hardness to warm softness, and Angelus smiled a smile so gentle it would have made Spike hurl insults at a nun, just to get away from it. (Then again, Spike would probably hurl insults at a nun just for shits and giggles.)

He could feel Xander's fingers shaking as he undid the top button to the pants that Angelus was wearing, and he gently held Xander's hands in his own. Xander's eyes met his, and still, no words were spoken between them. There was this, this one perfect moment that needed no speaking, needed nothing but the two of them. Keeping Xander's gaze locked in his, he slowly undid and stepped out of his pants.

Xander moaned soundlessly as Angelus stood, naked and utterly unselfconscious in front of him. He was carved like a statue of a Greek god, his nudity beautiful and natural, his erection huge and demandingly sticking out. Xander, never embarrassed in the locker room himself, could only gape at the sheer size of Angelus' formidable dimensions. He had a sudden desire to bury his face in that spot if only to taste Angelus, to smell that wonderful scent, to bury himself in that wonderfully soft thatch of raven curls that ran freely over the base of Angelus' cock and balls.

Angelus smirked at him slightly before he leaned forward and helped Xander out of his own pants. Xander blushed self-consciously as Angelus' gaze raked over his own erection, drooling in its excitement, at his pale tan lines, which Xander had always hated. He could feel his own inadequacy next to this Adonis, and yet the look on Angelus' face somehow made him feel for the first time as if he were beautiful. Their eyes managed to communicate all of this to each other in moments, and Angelus understood. He closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a kiss more lush and wondrous than before, bare chest to bare chest, hard cock to hard cock.

Xander fell into Angelus' arms as the demon carried him to the warm, inviting bed. Angelus shook his head at him with a sort of exasperated pleasure as he bent to pick up all of the blankets. Xander blushed furiously as Angelus' shapely ass was put on display, and Angelus turned around with a 'like what you see?' sort of leer on his face that was instantly softened as he tucked Xander in with soft blankets.

They never spoke, that night. There was a chorus of moans and of passion as they moved together, finding completion, finding a place in each other that they weren't sure they would ever reach again. But reaching it again didn't matter, because they had gotten there, and they had gotten there together. Tomorrow was for talking; the night was for them. The very last thing that Xander remembered from that night was falling asleep in Angelus' warmed, protective arms as the big demon stroked his charge comfortingly in the light of Ostara's gentle fire.

A/N: So…that kicked ass, if I do say so myself. I should know; it took me three and a half days to perfect. Obviously, the title comes from the holiday, one of the three Wiccan ceremonies celebrating Spring and fertility, the Vernal (Spring) Equinox, Ostara. But I would just like to point out that this is running by my timeline; in cannon, this skews into an alternate universe after Passion. So I can screw around with time all by myself. I AM GOD!

But not really.

And to answer the inevitable question, no, they didn't really have sex. Not yet. There's too much before the Claiming. And yes, everything has changed between them. But how will it continue? (This, folks, is my lame attempt at telling you to continue reading my story – insert weak smile here).

Yet again – I LOVE REVIEWS! Reviews keep a writer writing, a story posted. Yet again, I got my reviews, and I got some flags that I'd been added as a favorite. Please. Please review me! I'm serious, I'm not above holding out the next chapter until I get up to 90 reviews (okay, I really am, but only because these next chapters get really interesting with the romance and the magic and everything).

So, ten pages down the line, here we are. Excuse my wheezing waffle, in the wise words of Albus Dumbledore, but I'm really friggin' proud of this chapter, and I feel justified in celebrating that I got through it and am now expecting lots of internet fan mail. And also to reiterate: I would love to see this story on more than one website. If you're interested, just drop me a line and tell me where it's going so I can go admire it there as well.

And in case anyone is interested, the music that I was listening to while writing this chapter goes as follows:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Album

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Radio Sunnydale

Charmed: The Book of Shadows

Just as a bonus! I love you guys for sticking with me, and I love my new readers as well. I hope you enjoy reading this update as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Blessed be,

PyroPadawan.