Chapter Thirteen:

"Buffy, dammit, it's me."

Angel, she thought as relief flowed through her. She'd thought it would be Riley, she thought she'd have to have another go around with him here in the parking garage. She let go of his arm, waiting until he turned around and then threw herself into his arms. "God, Angel, I am so sorry."

He closed his eyes, the wonderful weight of her in his arms making him almost weak with relief. His head tipped forward and he breathed in the sweet scent of her hair, the faint trace of the perfume she'd worn last night and under that, the spicy aroma of warm, sweet. Her body against him felt right, almost as if she'd been split off of him somehow and now that they were together, they were complete. "You know I didn't kill those girls. You know that don't you?" He lifted his head, looking down into her tear filled eyes.

Buffy stared into his eyes, looking deep. She saw warmth and love, caring and worry, passion. But she didn't see death. She nodded slowly. "No, you couldn't have killed them. I know you couldn't have done it."

His arms tightened around her, drawing her back against him. Relief flooded through him, relief that the woman he loved believed in him, that she trusted him. "Thank you," he whispered.

She let him hold her, for both their sakes, soaking up the way he felt against her, memorizing his scent, the curve of his body against hers. His heart beat against her ear, the sound reassuring and strong. Her eyes closed and a single tear slipped down the curve of her cheek.

She pushed away, not relenting when he tried to draw her back into his arms. "I believe in you Angel, but there will be a lot of people who don't and won't. A lot of people are going to look at you and believe what they see, that you killed those women with your hospital badge being the proof of your guilt. But I'm not one of them, okay?" She reached up, touching his stubbled cheek with gentle fingers.

He closed his eyes, letting his head rest against her hand, turning his face to press a kiss into her palm. "All I needed to know was that you believe in me. I'll deal with everyone else when I have to."

There was a tone in his voice, a note that told her he expected her to walk away. Her eyes closed for a moment, but when she opened them, her decision was made and her heart was clear. "We'll deal with them, Angel. I'm not going to walk away from you."

"But what about your job? What about Finn? Won't he have something to say about this?" He settled back, leaning against her Mustang and pulling her closer so she tilted against his body.

"I'll deal with it when I have to," she said, unconsciously mimicking his words. "There are other jobs and other ways of life. I'll be fine." She stood straight, reaching up and letting her lips touch his and linger. She felt his lips curve against hers and looked up at him. "What?"

"You love me."

She tipped her head to the side, staring at him as if he were crazy. "You're nuts," she said. "You know that? Nuts."

"No, I'm not. You love me. You're ready to drop everything, to go against your partner, to go against the job that you hold so sacred that you'd die for it, for me. That's got to be love, Buffy." His smile grew as he stared down at the look of consternation on her face.

"This isn't the time or place to be talking about this. We have to get you out of here."

"And you're afraid of it too, aren't you?" His smile was wide, love shone in the warmth of his chocolate brown eyes. "That's just ... cute."

"Cute?" She looked at him as if he'd completely lost his mind, especially when he started chuckling. "You think I'm cute? I'm not cute." She pulled away from him, opening her car door and unlocking his side. "I'm a lot of things, but cute isn't one of them. And this isn't the time or the place for this conversation. Get in, we'll go back to my place. We've got some stuff to figure out."

He slid onto the leather seats of the Mustang, admiring the high tech, sleekly styled interior of the car. "Yeah, like who is trying to set me up."

"That's a start. Once we figure out who's setting you up, then we can figure out who's killing these girls." She started the car, putting it into reverse and backed slowly out of her spot.

That's when she saw him. Riley, standing in the pool of light from one of the overheads. He watched her back out, his head up, his eyes gleaming like ice so cold it shone pale blue. His hands were in fists and she knew he'd heard what she'd said to Angel. "Shit," she said, under her breath. Putting the car in gear, she headed towards the ramp that led to the weak watery light of outside.

"What?" Angel said, looking up and around. "What's wrong?"

"Riley," she said, nodding with her head to where he stood, the light creating a halo affect in his hair.

"He's not going to be happy to see you with me."

"That's the understatement of the year," she said, cursing again as he stepped out of the light as if he were going to stop her from leaving. She sped up slightly and he ended up slapping his hand angrily on the back spoiler of her car.

Looking in her rear view mirror, she could see him standing behind her, glaring at her with an expression upon his face that she couldn't, or maybe it was didn't dare, decipher.

They drove the few miles to Buffy's apartment, hurrying inside before anyone could see them together. It didn't matter how quiet the department tried to keep it, leaks happened. She had no doubt that Angel being questioned in accordance to the three murders would make front page news. And right after that would be the fact that he was dating the ex lead investigator in the case.

She unplugged her phone, leaving only her cell phone on. The department would call her on that if they needed her. But then, again, so would Riley. She stared at the phone, her finger brushing the off button. Duty won over the instinct she felt to hide, to be alone with Angel for a while, and she left it on.

Dropping her jacket on the back of a chair, she stood, peeling off her shoulder rig and watched as he walked around her apartment, before collapsing on her couch, his face falling in his hands, his shoulders tightening.

Angel sat there for a moment, numb, his brain blank. He felt like he did after the long hours and days he'd put in as a resident, his body moving because it was trained to move until it finally shut down and demanded he do what was best for , though, he knew he was in shock. He felt her presence before he felt her touch, turning his head up to face her and dropping his hands to his lap.

Buffy hated to see him looking like this, defeated seemed the only way to describe his mood. She knelt in front of him, resting her hand on top of his just to feel him close to her. A small smile touched his lips and he turned his hand over, entwining their fingers. "We can work this out. We just have to stay focused and not get discouraged."

"Those women he killed," Angel said slowly, looking into her beautiful green eyes, "they all looked sort of like you. Not exactly, but there were resemblances. Is he after you?"

How to answer that question? "He might be. I don't know. If my guess is right, than yes, he is fixated on me which is why he's framing you for the murders. He saw us together, maybe at the first crime scene and decided to make you his patsy."

"You need protection," he said, reaching out and pulling her forward until she sat in his lap once more. "Is Finn sending an unmarked car or whatever it is you people do to protect victims in danger?"

"Oh God, don't you go all macho and protective male on me now too. I'm a cop, Angel. I've been protecting myself for a long time." She sighed and shifted on his lap, feeling more tired that she'd felt in a long time. "I've told Riley no unmarked or undercovers. I'll just lose them if he tries it to force them on me."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this ... I think Riley is right. If this killer can go into a hospital with all its personnel and security and steal a doctor's badge off of his lab coat, he can get to you no matter what your experience. You need official protection, or to go into a safe house of whatever you cops do." He lifted her face with a gentle finger under her chin and kissed her softly, staring down at her.

Before she could answer, she saw his face change, grow hard, his eyes darkened. And she knew he'd seen the marks on her neck, marks made by Riley's hand. She jerked her head away but he grabbed her chin in his hand and lifted it, his other hand stroking over the bruises on her skin.

"Who did this to you?" he snarled. "Who marked you? You didn't have these last night." His tone was rough but his fingers were incredibly gentle as they traced the marks, marks made by fingers.

"It doesn't matter, it was a misunderstanding and it's taken care of. I'm fine, so let's just let it rest." She pulled away and pushed up and off of him, pacing the short confines of her living room.

"It was Riley, wasn't it? He went after you after he found out about us, didn't he?" His eyes searched her face, seeing the answer in her eyes before she could drop them. "I'll kill the son of a bitch," he growled, pushing off the couch with rage growing in his stomach. "He had no right to touch you, no right at all."

"It's all right, dammit. They don't hurt. I'm fine. I handled it like I handle everything when it comes to him." She walked over to him and pushed him back on the couch with one hand on his chest. He was stiff, his hands fisted. "I'm fine," she repeated, seeing his eyes light upon the bruises.

"He hurt you. He put his hands on you."

"And I dealt with him and with his hands. Angel, he won't do it again. He's not like this. He's usually a very decent guy when it comes to me. Besides, I get hit harder than this at least once a week. Are you going to go nuts every time I come home with a bruise?" He wasn't buying it. She could almost see the gears spinning in his mind and knew he was thinking of what he was going to do the next time he had Riley in his face. She wanted to scream and pull out her hair. "Listen to me, dammit," she snarled in his face. "You are in way too much trouble right now as it is. You can't go after him. They'll throw your ass in jail if you try anything right now. Don't you know how bad that will look? You'll look guilty as hell."

He stared up at her, seeing the worry and the weariness on her face. It broke apart his fury like a sledge hammer, seeing her look so incredibly tired. He sighed, feeling his own exhaustion like a thick fog, weighing him down. "Okay, fine. I won't go after him now." He took her in his arms, his hands gentle against her sensitive skin. "But one of these days, when this is all over with, your partner and I are going to have a talk about him putting his hands on you."

Buffy reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "How long before you have to go into the hospital?"

"Why?" A small smirk curved his mouth. "Are you getting ideas about seducing me or something? Cause you know, I'm pretty unseducable."

"Oh, I think I'm up to the task," she said, pulling open the shirt that he'd barely buttoned. She kissed his throat, smelling his now familiar scent, stepping in so her breasts pressed against him as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders. "But, I was thinking actually of something else. When I left last night, you mentioned something about holding me in your arms while we slept."

"And then waking up to make love to you while your body is all sleepy and warm," he said tipping his head to give her more access to his neck. He opened his eyes, glancing across the room to where a small Teddy Bear shaped clock sat amidst the chaos. "I guess, since you are being so convincing, I can give you a couple of hours."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, Doc," she said, making him laugh.

He stood, pulling her with him, and then lifted her in his arms and started down the hallway.

"You know," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, "I could get real used to this."

In the bedroom, he let her legs down, holding her against him still with one arm around her waist. "I want to get used to it." His lips found hers, softly, full of emotions and caring too many to name. He felt danger, for her or for him, he didn't know which. Right now though, they had this small amount of time, like the eye of a hurricane where all is quiet and calm. He needed her to know how he felt about her, now, before it was too late and the storm winds gathered once more, blowing through their lives and destroying everything.

A sense of urgency, of impending danger, swept through him. He tore his mouth from hers, gasping as he stared down at her. "I don't know what's going to happen or if things are going to go completely to shit. I have to tell you..."

"Shh," she whispered, stopping him from saying the words she knew he wanted to say. It wasn't that she didn't want to hear them. She just didn't want to hear them now, not when their lives were so uncertain. "Tell me later, when this thing is done. But for now, make love to me, that's all."

He pulled her shirt off of her, staring at her heaving breasts lightly confined in red silk and lace. The dark color of her nipples could be seen through the lace, taut and pushing at the clinging fabric.

"Like what you see?" she asked him as he didn't move, just stared at the pale mounds of flesh. She pushed them together with her hands, cupping them and stroking her nipples through the lacy fabric. "Don't you want to touch them, touch me? Don't you want to kiss and lick my nipples?"

Like a man possessed, he reached behind her, yanking at the hooks until they parted. The bra was torn from her and thrown behind his back, landing on the small ceiling fan that was spinning lazily above them. Buffy's chuckle rang out, smoky and husky, catching as he bent down and took her nipple into his mouth. Her laugh turned to a moan of need as he sucked it into his mouth, laving the taut tip and suckling upon it until her knees began to give out. He laughed in triumph as she clung to his shoulders, little gasping whimpers of pleasure mixed with desire so urgent, she clawed at his back. He rose, picking her up once more and dumping her on the bed, his brown eyes gone almost black with the own desperate needs that burned through him. She bounced once before he was on her, his lips tracing the welts upon her throat, his teeth nipping at the skin over her collarbone.

Her breasts got his attention again, licking and nibbling his way from one taut peak to the other feeling her hands holding his head against her flesh as he sucked as much of the firm mounds into his mouth as he could.

He pulled away from her, yanking at the belt at her waist until it pulled free. Opening her jeans, he pushed his hand inside, slipping it under the lacy silk he could feel and finding her, the heat of her, wet and pulsing with need. Her clit was distended from its tiny hood, a hard kernel of need under his finger. He circled it, stroked over it, before plunging his finger inside of her wet opening.

She could barely breathe. Her head spun as more sensations were heaped upon her overloaded nerve endings. She could sense the pleasure coming, even as her muscles tightened. Tiny white lights exploded behind her closed eyelids and her body bowed as her back arched, trying to get closer to the source of her pleasure. When it finally came, it was intense, incredible ecstasy that ranged from between her thighs, crashing over her body like a tidal wave of heat that had her muscles shaking. H

e watched as she cried out his name, a dark smile of desire upon his handsome face. Her body quivered and for just a moment, he stopped the movement of his hand, watching her face intently.

When she relaxed against him, soft and warm, limp and satiated, his hand moved again, pulling her jeans from her body. The red silk she wore under them was drawn off of her limp form also, leaving her naked in his arms.

Angel stared down at her, wanting to tear off his own clothes and plunge deep between her thighs, lose himself in the hot moist flesh of her cunt. Her body was beautiful, sleek and sexy, taut muscle and curvy female mixed. Softly, though his body cried out to just take her, he slid his hand over her shoulder and her breasts, across the flat surface of her stomach before slipping once more between her thighs. She jerked slightly, her eyes opening to stare up at him with sleepy surprise.

"I'm not done with you, yet," he whispered, his face tight with his own passion still unfulfilled.

Buffy moaned, her body stirring as his fingers pushed inside of her, his thumb circling around her clit once more. Passion she thought extinguished, rose once more, forcing her hips to move in time with his thrusts. She reached up, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders and down his arms, forcing him to move his hand that was causing her to ache with need once more. "Let me," she said, pushing him back, her lips coursing over his chest, her nails scratching over his skin, flicking over his flat, male nipples until they stood for her. She suckled on one, hearing his groan and feeling his hands slide down over the arch of her back, cupping her bottom and the slender columns of her thighs.

"Take off my pants," he ordered her, feeling the fumbling of her fingers on the fastening and then the long slide of the zipper. His cock rose free from the material, brushing against her hand. The tip was wet with his own eagerness.

A gasp and then a moan erupted from him as she stroked his hard shaft before sliding her lips down him, tasting the musky tang of his desire. His hands tangled in her hair, his body as taut as hers had been when she finally took him in her mouth, her lips stretched around his cock.

Angel's head fell back against the pillow as he felt her soft tongue exploring and slipping around his shaft that was buried in the hot, wet depths of her mouth. Her hand slipped under, cupping his balls and squeezing them gently. He took it as long as he could, feeling every stroke of her mouth drawing him closer and closer. Finally, he drew her up, the cool air of the room swirling around his wet cock, making him long for the warmth of her mouth. "You're too much," he whispered, pushing her down under him and finding his way between her open thighs.

"Fuck me," she moaned as the head of his shaft penetrated her body. It stretched her delicate flesh, pushing into her warmth easily. Her legs came up and around his hips, her arms grabbing the firm, muscled arms that were holding his weight off of her body as he looked down the length of her. He watched as she took him, his cock disappearing inside of her until he could go no further, their bodies joined. He pulled out just as slowly, seeing her juices shimmer on his cock. Her hips flexed, drawing him back into her, demanding that he give her the pleasure she knew he was capable of. Buffy's hands went onto his back, sliding down to his waist, pulling him down to her. "I want to feel you. God, Angel, I have to feel your weight on me."

He was as if putty in her hands, moving over her, feeling her nails score down his back leaving tiny trails of fire that just pushed his desire higher. He let her pull him closer, feeling the firmness of her soft breasts pressing against his chest, the taut buds of her nipples pushing against him. Her movements under him became less controlled as she lost herself in the way he felt, the hard girth of him inside of her, the heat of his skin against her own.

Angel's hands cupped her hips, holding her still for his thrusts, forcing her to feel even when the sensations threatened to overwhelm her. He heard his name from her lips as she crested wave after wave of passion, pleasure becoming a sharp edged ecstasy that had her gripping him with her arms and legs as she shook and shuddered beneath him.

He waited, riding out her climax with gritted teeth until she relaxed beneath him.

"Angel," she sighed, opening her eyes to see his taut features and eyes gone hard with desire. He looked half wild, uncontrollable in the dim light that came through her curtains. "You didn't..." she let the sentence trail off as his hands traced her features, stroked over her jaw and down to her throat. A thrill of fear shot through her as his hand wrapped around her slender neck.

"Not yet," he ground out. He held her down with his hand at her throat, the other hand holding himself above her, his hips moving slowly as he teased her still sensitive clit by brushing against it on every stroke.

Buffy felt fear but also renewed passion as desire and pleasure twisted in her middle. Her hands came to his wrist, grabbing and trying to pull it away from her neck even as her hips moved in time with his, rising and falling, pushing to grind her cunt against him.

He watched as they ran into the apartment building, his teeth gnashing and gritting in his fury. That fucking doctor should be in jail right now, not back in her apartment, back in her bed fucking his woman.

She was his, though she was having troubles admitting it. But she would, and soon.

Going to his car, he took one last look up at the window that he knew was her bedroom. The silhouette of the doctor's head could be seen through the gauzy sheer curtains that covered the thin glass panes. It made him want to draw the gun he had concealed in his car and fire it, getting rid of his rival once and forever. But before he could, the silhouette disappeared.

He got in his car and picked up the file folder he kept in the back seat. A sheaf of papers, each one with a woman's picture and information on it was in the manila file folder. With a smile, he looked through the pictures, stopping occasionally to stroke his hand over a face or lift the picture to his mouth for a kiss.

"There you are," he said finally, drawing a picture out of all the others and staring at it.

The girl on the picture was beautiful. She had high cheekbones, thick lashes and a lush mouth that he couldn't wait to taste. She was waiting for him, he knew, for he'd stalked her and found out her routine.

He carefully put the rest of the pictures back in their file, closing it and setting it back in the back seat before starting his car and pulling out into the traffic that was getting steadily heavier. If he timed it right, he should be able to find her as she was heading on her way to work.

Nina Ash kissed her husband as they parted ways in the driveway; each in their own car for their work took them in different directions. Nina worked in the northern part of the city as a real estate agent with a high profile office. She was good at her work, took pride in her appearance and the appearance of her home and family which showed in the well taken care of lawn and flower beds that lined the house and driveway and also in the high powered red business suit with the slim pencil skirt that she wore with confidence.

And she was about to die.

She backed out of her spot in the driveway, beeped and waved once more at her husband before putting the car into drive and heading to work. Today was going to be a busy day, three showings and two meetings, plus going over the promotions on a new house they'd just acquired to sell. Nina smiled. It was the kind of day she enjoyed, busy and energizing.

About three blocks from her home, she heard the siren behind her and glanced in her rear view mirror. A car was behind her, a bubble light in the front window. He motioned her over and she obeyed with a sigh.

Rolling down her window, she waited until the police man was close to her door.

"Yes, officer? I don't think I was speeding," she said, smiling a polite smile.

She was perfect, he thought. Just as he had hoped, she was so sweet and polite, with that just so slightly uncertain smile. He couldn't wait to taste her. "License and registration, ma'am," he said, acting the part he was playing to a tee.

Nina dug out her license and handed him that and her registration. She watched as he looked both documents over and then looked at her.

"I'm going to need you to get out of the car, Ms. Ash." He stepped back to make room for her to open the door.

Nina took the keys out of the ignition and then climbed out of the car, leaving the window open but closing her car door. She felt his long fingers close around her upper arm, pulling her around to the passenger seat of his car. Before she could get in, he pushed her down against the hood of the car, grabbing her wrists and cuffing them quickly.

"What are you doing?" Panic surfaced as she realized how completely vulnerable she was with her hands secured.

"In an unmarked car you are not allowed in unless cuffed, Ms. Ash. It's for both of our protection." He opened the door and shoved her inside the passenger seat before slamming the door closed and hurrying around to his own side. He had problems wiping the smile off of his face as he looked at her, trussed and unable to fight against him though she would be little more than a brief struggle.

Angel heard Buffy and lifted his head, slowing his thrusts as he watched her face.

"Angel, what are you doing?" she asked him again.

His hand lifted from her throat, and he leaned down, kissing her lips with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes. "It was seeing his hand prints on your throat, Buffy, it was driving me crazy. I was just covering them. I'm sorry." He kissed her again, this time long and slow, his tongue stroking over her teeth, sinking into her mouth to taste the flavor of her passion, the sweetness that was this perfect woman. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said when he lifted his mouth from hers.

Buffy brought her knees up to his hips, her hands sliding down his back to cup his slowly thrusting butt. She could feel his muscles working under his skin and she squeezed the firm flesh her fingers slipping between to tease between his thighs and over his ass. She found the puckered flesh of his anus and pushed just the tip on her finger inside, feeling him jerk forward in surprise. "I didn't mean to scare you," she said, her voice low and husky. She pushed in a little further. "I'm sorry, baby."

He laughed, leaning down to nip at her earlobe with his teeth. "You can scare me like that anytime, love." He groaned as she did again, his thrusts becoming uncontrollable as his orgasm loomed closer.

Buffy reached down between her thighs, her fingers finding her stiff pebbled clit and rolling it almost desperately. She felt his thighs tense under hers, felt his body jerk and thrummed it harder, wanting urgently to come with him.

Angel felt her inner walls contract around his cock, the hot juices of her spendings washing over him and erupted within her, jerking against her as he bathed her cervix with a pearly layer of come. "Buffy," he growled, letting his body relax against hers as he came down from the peak.

He looked down at the girl beneath him, her red suit now in shreds around her nude form, her body bruised and welted from his big hands. She'd fought, struggled hard against him but had been no match for his strength. It had almost been too easy.

Pulling his spent cock from her body, he admired the way his come oozed from between her battered thighs mixed with sticky red from where he'd torn her with his roughness. His handprint was around her throat, standing out in bold relief from the pale skin. But she wasn't dead. He didn't want her dead yet. She was going to serve a purpose. She was going to help rid him of his rival for Buffy Summers' affection. She was going to help him kill Angel McKenna.

Running a hand over her breasts, he was disappointed in their size, hoping that they would have been fuller, the nipples more prominent. He tweaked at the one in his hand, pulling it out until it would go no further, her breast stretching. She moaned which only made him smile, an evil smile that seemed somehow inhuman considering the way his body looked.

Long whip marks marred his back and buttocks, reminders of dear, recently deceased Grandma. He'd made sure her body would never be found. Scars from burn marks were like tracks over his chest and across his stomach. His thighs were covered with other kinds of scars, long ones from where he'd taken to sliding a razor blade across them when things got too much to bear and the pain he'd dealt with all his life became more than he could handle. It had kept him focused for so long, able to do his job and to act normal in real life.

But his wife had noticed, the little incidents that had grown until she'd left one day while he was at work, running away with no notice or forwarding address. He could have found her easily, and maybe one day he would, but for now, he had another woman to deal with. She would be his to deal with, Buffy Summers would be his.

The girl roused, her mouth opening to scream at the pain she felt as well as the terrible sight of this man who'd raped and beaten her. He was crazy, the things he had done to her were insane. The things he had made her do were worse. Her mouth was open, her lungs working to find the air to scream, but nothing but gasping noises would come out of her gaping mouth.

He smiled down at her, loosing his hold upon her nipple and slipping his finger into her sopping pussy. Pulling his spunk coated fingers out, he wiped them around her lips, sliding them inside her open mouth before yanking his hand back as she tried to bite him. "Bitch," he said pleasantly, reaching out almost gently and slapping her hard enough to draw blood to her mouth. He walked away, hearing her gasps of pain as she tried to move, knowing that her leg was broken, for he'd done that on purpose. He'd broken her ribs too, and strangled her enough to damage her voice box. He didn't want her speaking, not until he was ready.

Nina watched the monster turn away from her and tried to sit up. The pain was awesome, overwhelming and immense, radiating from her chest out. She tried to move her legs but more pain assailed her, making her feel dizzy and light headed. She fell back against the floor, panting, whimpers coming from her mouth as that was the most sound she could make.

When he turned, his eyes wild, his hands shaking, she screamed, no sound coming from her mouth. In his trembling hand was a scalpel, the metal shining in the light from the small lamp above her. He walked towards her as she tried to drag herself across the floor, coming to stand above her with the knife raised above his head.