Chapter Sixteen:

Buffy arched her back, her eyes opening to see Angel above her, his hands stroking the hair from her face. He moved against her and she felt that wonderful tingling sensation again, the same sensation that had roused her from sleep. With it, she realized he was buried deeply inside her body, his cock thrusting in long, slow strokes that had called her from the sensual dreams she was having into the wonderful reality of being in his arms.

"It's about time you woke up," he growled, nipping at her lips. "I was beginning to think I'd lost my touch." His hand stroked over her throat and then lower, finding her taut tipped breasts and squeezing one plump nipple gently.

"Oh no, you've still got the touch," she gasped, grinding her hips up against his. "That feels so good," she moaned, her hands going to his back and sliding over the flexing muscles of his ass. She squeezed his tight cheeks, letting her fingers trail between, sliding over the puckered furl hidden there.

It was Angel's turn to gasp and moan, his teeth sinking deftly into the flesh of her neck, biting down but not breaking the skin. "You're going to make me come," he growled, fighting the need that demanded he pound into her sweet core until he spewed his seed into her depths.

"Not yet," she answered him, rubbing her body against his, pressing her nipples into his chest. She pushed him away, laughing at the startled look on his face and going to her knees, turning her back to him to give him a come hither look over her shoulder. "Fuck me hard, Angel," she demanded, grabbing hold of the headboard of his bed as he came up behind her.

"You want it hard?" he growled into her ear. His hand came down against her ass, slapping her lightly. "Spread your legs for me, baby."

"Hmmm, yeah," she moaned, feeling him rubbing the head of his cock over the wetness of her slit, hitting the taut hard flesh of her clit and making her shiver. He shoved against her, burying his cock inside of her with one thrust that had her back arching, her head coming back until she almost touched him. His hands were on her breasts, squeezing them, mauling them, pulling on her nipples until they stood up in swollen surrender to his mastery. He held her to him, his hard thrusts shaking her body, their mingled groans and heavy pants the only sound in the quiet apartment. His hand slid down her body, caressing the soft skin of her stomach before pushing into the dark curls between her thighs, finding her clit and rolling it under his thumb. She couldn't breath; his body pounded into hers, his hand excited her, sending shooting sparks to mix with the tension in her belly until she thought she'd explode. She rocked against his hand, pressed back into his body, rolling her head against his chest until with one final thrust, she skyrocketed into ecstasy.

Angel felt the contractions of her sex around his cock and pumped into her furiously, holding her to him and throwing back his head as he too, came. He shot his seed into her, pouring out the frustrations and turmoil of the past few days, feeling the stress flood out of him as the pleasure flowed in. He held her tight, his big body shaking, slumping against her, one hand planted against the wall as his legs felt weak. "My God, girl," he panted, kissing her ear. "You'll be the death of me."

Buffy grinned weakly. "Old man," she sighed. "Gotta work on your stamina," she said, squealing when he retaliated by running his whiskered covered face over her shoulder.

"You wait until this case is over, little girl, then I'll show you old." He felt his cock soften, sliding out of her and settled backward, rolling on his side and dragging her with him. His hand stroked over her skin, his face buried in her hair, he sighed deeply.

"You'll catch him. If anyone could, it'll be you." She turned her head, staring at him over her shoulder.

Angel kissed her gently. "I'll do my best. I just hope my best will be good enough." He'd told her some of what had happened when he'd driven her home the night before but they'd both been so tired, it had been almost too much trouble to undress before falling into his big bed and cuddling together in the center.

She glanced over at the clock, groaning at the red numbers displayed prominently there. "It's just past six, are you nuts?"

"About you," he whispered, kissing her cheek and then her lips.

She melted against him, her lips parting under his, her tongue tangling with his. When he lifted his head, she sighed. "In spite of the nastiness of being woke up at this hour of the morning, that's one hell of a wake up."

"I could get used to it," Angel said, his tongue flicking against her earlobe before he rolled away from her. "But I've got to get up, no matter how much I'd love to spend the day in bed with you."

"Where am I going today?" she asked, sitting up and watching him reach for his robe. His body was hard, muscular without being overly cut and put to rest most of the jokes she'd ever heard about cops and donuts.

Angel turned, his eyes roaming over her soft curves and luscious skin. He sighed thinking about how much he'd like to take her away from this, somewhere where they could go and be a couple, play in the water, drink fruity drinks filled with way too much rum and make love under the moon. He knew that Buffy would be beautiful in a bikini, a flower behind her ear and a warm smile of welcome upon her sweet lips. "I'm almost positive that this creep we interviewed last night is our suspect. We just don't have anything on him yet, not enough for a search warrant. I don't want to give some defense lawyer room to wiggle him out of a conviction."

Buffy slipped her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, feeling his spendings slide down her thighs, reminding her of the wonderful way he'd woken her. "You'll get him. And since I don't want you to worry, I can go and spend the day with Lindsey again." She smiled. "He's much better company now than he used to be."

"I'm going to tell him you said that when he wakes up," Angel said, laughing. "It'll give him some inspiration to get better so he can get even."

"Tattletale," she grouched. She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning against his tall body. She kissed him slowly, feeling his cock harden against her. "Wanna share the shower?" she whispered against his lips.

"Oh, yeah," he said, lifting her easily and throwing her across his shoulder. When she squealed and tried to fight him, he brought his hand down on her smooth ass, laughing as she cursed the air blue.

But when he had her pinned against the wall of the shower, her legs wrapped around his waist, his cock slowly pistoning into her softness, she was singing another tune. She looked so beautiful with her hair slicked back, her eyes half closed as she watched his face. Her hands were on his shoulders, steadying herself as she thrust back against him, anxious to feel the ecstasy he created within her.

"I like it when you get all manly and dominating," she whispered into his ear, nipping at his earlobe.

He growled softly, his hips flexing with more strength before he pulled from her, forcing her legs back to the floor of the shower. With one hand on her hip, he twirled her around, sliding his wet hand over her ass and down between her thighs. "Spread em," he growled wickedly, making her laugh.

"Oooo are we gonna play good cop, bad cop?"

"Nope, just bad cop," he nipped her shoulder before pushing her forward until she leaned into the spray of hot water. With a grunt, he thrust back inside of her his hands running over her body, exploring every inch he could reach until she was a writhing mass of flesh unable to do anything but feel. Her cries urged him on, her wriggles and shivers only making him thrust harder.

"You're so damn tight," he groaned, his teeth sinking into her shoulder. "I love fucking you like this."

The sound of the water rushing over her head was loud, but she heard the noise anyway. "W-wait," she gasped, holding her hand out behind her. "Did you hear that?"

Angel quit moving, listening even as his body raged at him to continue. "I don't hear anything," he said. "What did you hear?"

"It sounded like a thud, like someone running into a piece of furniture and sending it into the wall."

She gasped as he pulled from her wet body, opening the shower door and reaching for a towel as Buffy leaned down and turned off the water. Angel wrapped the towel around his hips, standing on the bathmat as he listened for a sound in the quiet of his apartment. He was about to turn back to Buffy and make some silly remark about how he'd fucked her into hearing things when another sound caught his attention. His eyes shot to hers as she reached for another towel, not wanting to be naked if there was actually someone breaking into the apartment.

"Stay here," he mouthed at her, his hand out flat as he urged her to stay still.

"Not on your life," she said. "You aren't going out there to leave me in here wondering what the hell is going on. Forget it."

"Buffy, I don't have time to argue with you right now."

"Good, than don't. I'm going with you and that's all there is to it."

"Buffy," he began before seeing the stubborn look on her face. He sighed heavily. "Fine, but stay behind me and promise me, you'll do whatever I tell you to, no questions. Promise?"

"Yeah," she said. "I promise. You got a gun nearby?"

"In the bedroom," he growled, wanting to hit himself for not being more prepared. He walked to the bathroom door, standing with his ear pressed against it, listening intently. No noises could be heard through the door, but that didn't make him feel any better. Someone could be right outside the door and he wouldn't know it until he got the door opened.

He motioned for Buffy back with his hand, silently turning the knob with the other. Pulling gently at the knob, he started to open the door.

He wasn't prepared for it to fly back at him, hitting him square in the forehead. The hard wood sent him flying backwards, black spots clouding his vision as he fought to stay conscious.

"I knew you weren't too smart, Detective," he heard a man's voice say and he fought to open his eyes, to see the man who was now standing over him.

It was him, their suspect, that Benjamin Wilkinson. He held a long dagger in his hand as he stood looking down at Angel. "Thanks for taking care of Buffy for me," he said, turning the dagger in his head and using the end of it to smash into Angel's head.

Pain flared, fast and inescapable, flooding over him like a dense blanket, sucking him down into unconsciousness. The last sound he heard was Buffy's voice, fear making it shrill as she screamed his name.

"He's coming to," a voice said softly.

A harsh chemical scent filled his nose and he jerked his head away, only to groan as the movement made the world tilt. "What happened?" he muttered the question, his hand raising to find a bandage on his head.

"We were hoping you'd tell us that." Giles knelt beside his injured man, carefully staying away from where the paramedics were working on him. They hadn't wanted to try waking him but he had been adamant, forcing them to use one of the ammonia sticks they had just for such a thing.

"Shower," he muttered. "Buffy was..." He sat up suddenly, so fast his head spun and the room around him grayed, making him nauseous. He gritted his teeth, forcing his stomach to settle and his head to stay on his head instead of bouncing around the room like it felt it was doing. "Benjamin Wilkinson, Captain, he was here. He took her and hit me."

Giles hissed under his breath. "You're sure? Of course you're sure." He got up and took his phone out of his pocket. Flipping it open he hit a number and waited for it to be answered. "This is Capt. Rupert Giles. I need you to put me through to the two guys I have out doing surveillance at Cherry Tree Lane."

The paramedic tried to push Angel back down, but he fought the man. "I'm fine, just finish bandaging it and you're done," he growled.

"Detective, you could have a concussion or worse. You really should have this checked out."

Angel growled again. Then he forced himself to calm. "I will," he said. "As soon as I take care of some business, I'll be happy to."

Giles snapped closed his phone, shoving it back in his pocket. "If it was him, the team never saw him leave his house. As far as they know, he's still in there."

"Well, if he hasn't killed any of the girls he's taken, he has three of them now. It wouldn't be so easy to move three girls, and now he has Buffy too. Where would he take them?"

"Get dressed, if you're sure you don't want to go to the hospital to get checked out. We'll head out to his house and pay him another little visit. I'm going to call for a warrant."

Faith's eyes were red rimmed and burning, her body ached and the pain between her thighs was almost unbearable. She felt battered, the flesh of her sex bruised and plundered ruthlessly. When Benjamin had come back down the stairs, he'd taken out his rage on all three of them, physically assaulting them in ways too horrible to think about.

She could hear Cassie's sobbing whimpers and Tara's soft crooning from where she sat on the cold floor of the cage he'd locked them in. She could see Tara, her body bruised and bleeding, rocking the younger girl gently in her arms, saying the soothing words that were meaningless in the face of what they'd just faced. Her eyes met Tara's and a look passed between the two women, a look that said all that needed to be said. They were of like mind. If an opportunity came for one of them to kill this bastard, they would take it with no hesitation.

Faith felt his rancid seed on her thighs and couldn't deal with having it there anymore. She got up, not even noticing the way that Cassie flinched as she walked by the two girls, and went to the sink, turning the water on and splashing it over her lower body. The water felt wonderful, stinging just a little at first on the abraded flesh. Then it soothed and cooled her skin, and she gave a small sigh of relief.

"We have to do something."

Faith turned to Tara, her eyes clouded. "Yeah, we do, because the next time he's down here, he really is going to kill one of us. I don't know about you, but I'd like to live a little longer just so I can make this into a nightmare and forget about it."

"So, you're the cop. What should we do?" Tara asked, stroking her hand over Cassie's tangled hair.

The girl's mouth was sore and bruised, her jaw hurting from where it had been almost dislocated by Ben's brutality. He'd taken a surprising glee in slapping and spanking her, welting the soft flesh and causing dark bruises to mar her skin.

"He'll kill us," Cassie whispered, her hand over her mouth.

"Safety in numbers," Faith said softly, staring at the doorway at the top of the basement steps. "That's what my self defense teacher used to say all the time. If you must go out, do it with one or more people, it makes you less of a target. So, we make ourselves less of a target. We refuse to go out there the next time he opens the door. We force him to come in and get which ever one of us he wants."

"And then, when he comes in here, we can overpower him," Tara said, her eyes lighting up even as a malicious smile played across her lips.

"He'll kill us," Cassie repeated. "He'll kill one of us, he's too strong."

Faith went over to the scared girl, falling to her knees in front of her with a groan. "I know you are afraid, Cassie. I am too and so is Tara. But we have to be strong if we are going to survive this. You want out of here, don't you?" She waited for the girl's nod. "Then we have to save ourselves."

"O-Okay," she said after a long hesitation. "B-but how?"

"I have an idea," Tara answered here, a cruel smile forming upon her normally gentle face.

Angel was dressed, his gun in its holster and snugged at his side like a familiar friend. He slapped his cuffs in his pocket along with the wallet containing his badge and identification and then he followed Rupert out of his apartment, leaving the paramedics to finish packing up their stuff.

"Damn judges," The captain hissed as he slid into the passenger seat of Angel's car. "You sure you should be driving?"

"No," Angel answered him, slipping the transmission into drive and hitting the gas.

Rupert grabbed the door handle as the tires squealed and then the car jumped forward.

"Wanna put the bubble up for me, Captain?"

He drove as fast as he could, weaving around and through the beginning of rush hour traffic, cursing anyone who didn't get out of his way fast enough and slamming his hand down on his horn as if it were a siren.

"I've got patrol cars en route and I've got the two detectives in the unmarked out front. They said there is no movement whatsoever at the house."

"It was Wilkinson who hit me, Capt. He took Buffy. I don't give a damn whether the morons in the car saw anything or not. I know what I saw." He glanced at the Captain, wincing as his head gave a particularly vicious stab of pain. "He's got Buffy in there somewhere and I plan on getting her out, one way or another."

Giles' phone rang and he answered it, cursing under his breath as Angel came close enough to the car in front of them to barely kiss bumpers before swinging around it. He listened for a moment then snapped his phone closed. "Okay, we got the warrant, though it's not really necessary in this case. But I wanted to cross the t's and dot the I's anyway."

"Good," Angel said, seeing the flashing lights in front of him. "You do that."

The light flashed on in the basement only seconds after Tara had finished speaking. The door at the top of the stairs opened and the three women watched in horror as Ben came back down, Buffy's unconscious body in his arms.

He sat her gently in the chair, carefully brushing her still wet hair back from her pretty face. She wore nothing but a plain white bath towel around her slender body, and he tugged gently at the top, pulling it apart and lifting her to take it off of her, leaving her naked to his eyes. "So beautiful," he groaned, reaching out his hand to touch her breast, his fingers careful not to bruise her skin. "I love you, Buffy," Ben said, falling to his knees in front of the naked, unconscious girl. "We will be together forever." His lips found her soft pink nipple, pulling it into his mouth and suckling upon it gently, kneading the pale flesh with his fingers. His face wore an expression of sublime ecstasy as he suckled upon her and his other hand went to her thighs, pulling the slack limbs apart and letting his hand rest upon the mound of her sex. "You're mine now," he moaned around the plump treat in his mouth. "Mine and I'll never let you go."

With a growl of pleasure, his fingers speared through her wet flesh and pushed inside of her core, finger fucking her slowly. He ignored the fact that she was limp under his hands, in his mind, she was standing in front of her mirror, her hands roaming over her own body as she sought to give herself pleasure, slipping under that tiny scrap of red silk, fucking herself. But she didn't stop when she saw him in the mirror, watching her. No, she continued, using the other hand to pull aside the tiny triangle, letting him see her fingers covered in her own juices as they pumped furiously into her pussy. She stared into his eyes, letting him see the changing emotions in their soft depths as she brought herself pleasure more fierce because he was watching her. Her legs shook and when she came, it was his name she cried out to the quiet of the room, his body she craved with every fiber of her being.

Buffy moaned, her head throbbing as she fought against the gray blanket that kept her down in the dark of unconsciousness. She didn't feel right, her stomach rolled and she thought she might be ill. But worse was the way she felt between her thighs. She moaned again, forcing her eyes to open a crack and seeing his face, the same face that had been sitting in the restaurant when Maggie had reamed her, the same face that she'd seen at the grocery store, the same face that had stared at her in the mirror.

It was him. It was the killer.

He had her naked in a chair, his hand a blur between her thighs, pummeling into her sex, his nails scraping against her sensitive flesh and hurting her.

"Stop," she moaned, her hands coming out to push him away. "Stop. You're hurting me."

He bit down against the nipple that was in his mouth, hearing her cry of pain before he released it. Licking the offended bud, he smiled at her. "I know you didn't mean it, Buffy. I know you love the way my hands feel on you, that you've been dreaming of this moment the same that I have. If you'd only kept the cops out of the mix, we could have been together so much earlier, baby girl." The hand between her thighs had slowed, its movements now gentle and loving instead of cruel. He pulled them from her sleek opening, rubbing them tenderly against her clit. His other hand came up to her face, burrowing into the wet strands of her hair, holding her face still as he leaned against her. "Kiss me. Show me how sorry you are that you've been blocking us from being together for all this time."

Buffy whimpered softly, wanting to kick him but he was between her legs, wanting to push him away, but his body was hard and seemed immovable, her hands fluttering against his chest as ineffectual as butterfly wings. "Please," she pleaded. "I'm sick."

His eyes narrowed as he stared into hers, almost as if he could weight the truth of her statement. "It's the drug I used on you. I'm sorry, but I had no choice but to use it. I couldn't have you getting in the way while I killed the good detective."

"Y-you ki-killed Angel?"

"You were fucking him," he said as if that gave him every right to rid himself of the competition. "You shouldn't have done that, Buffy. Don't you know how much I love you?"

She thought she would vomit, Images of Angel as she'd last seen him, lying on the floor, a pool of blood gathering around his head, flashed before her eyes. This awful man had killed him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, tears she was unable to stop.

"Do you cry for him?" Ben asked, the rage in his voice making her head come up. He rose from in front of her, his hand coming out to smack against her face, slinging her head to the side. "How dare you cry for another man when you're with me?"

Buffy heard a sharp cry and with her head turned, she could see the plastic prison and the three naked women inside. Despite the fog of the drug and the grief that wanted to weigh her down, she fought to think. "I'm not crying for him," she said slowly, her hand coming to her mouth to wipe away the trail of blood that was wending its way down her chin. "I'm crying because you killed a detective and now we have no chance to be together." She turned her head towards him, her eyes meeting his. In her heart, she was praying he would believe her. It would give her more of a chance to find a way out of here if he did.

"I don't know," he said slowly, stepping back and away from her. "But we don't have time to argue this out now. We're going to have company here soon and I want to be long gone before they get here. So choose, Buffy." He spread out his arm, indicating the big plastic cage.

"Choose?" Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean, choose?"

"Choose which one we'll be taking with us and which other ones I'll kill before we leave," he explained, smiling genially. "I figured to leave the choice up to you. I know Tara there is your friend, but I have to tell you, Buffy, she has been nothing but trouble since I brought her here. She might better be left behind."

Buffy felt a horror unlike anything she'd felt before. She was being made responsible for killing two women. How could she choose? "I-I can't," she said helplessly. "I can't o that. I-I just can't make that choice."

Ben's hand snapped out again, finding her cheek, this time not much more than a tap. "Buffy, I took these three because of you, it's up to you to decide which one lives and which two die." He chuckled, watching the three women huddle together, staring at him. "I kind of liked having my own stable to choose from, but we only need one. You choose and I'll make their deaths swift and easy. A quick twist of the neck and it snaps, they won't feel a thing. I choose, and I'll make their deaths more horrible than you could ever imagine."

Tears swept down her cheeks again, this time for herself and the nightmare she'd woken up to. She opened her mouth, only to close it again, her eyes pleading with him. "Can't you just let them all stay here, let the police have them alive? What more could they tell that the cops don't know? Please," she whimpered, slipping back against the back of the chair as he moved toward her.

He grabbed her arm, hauling her to her feet and moving her in front of him. His hands went around her waist and he forced her to look at the three women.

Tara could see the horror in Buffy's eyes as she listened to whatever Ben was whispering in her ear, her face going pale white in the too bright lights of the basement. Buffy's mouth was moving, but no noise was coming out. Tara didn't want to know what was being said. She knew first hand how cruel and vicious he could be. She closed her eyes, praying with all her might that they would have a chance to implement their plan and that it would work.

"Okay!" Buffy shrieked, unable to stand anymore of the words he spoke, words that brought horrible visions of blood and gore to her mind. She trembled uncontrollably in his arms, shock making the whole scene in front of her a surreal episode that couldn't possibly be real. She couldn't be here, her mind kept wanting to tell her. She couldn't be trapped and Angel couldn't be dead. She would wake up soon and be in her own bed at home, this whole thing nothing but a terrible dream.

"Choose, Buffy," Ben hissed into her ear, his hands sliding over her smooth flesh. "Choose now or I'll make every one of those things I told you come true."

"I-I ch-choose..." Buffy began.