Oz was forty-five minutes late for school.

It didn't matter anymore; the teachers had long since ceased taking attendance, assuming, rather, that if students were late, they were dead.

And, more often than not, that was the case.

He wished he could have driven the van, but for some dumb ass reason, students weren't allowed to have vehicles on campus.

He often wondered if more kids would be alive if they could've driven home instead of having to walk.

Rumor had it that Cordelia Chase, the most recent disappearance, had died that way. Her family lived in a once-ritzy neighborhood on the outskirts of town, a good two hour plus walk, more if she were wearing a pair of her typical three-inch heels.

And her route home would have taken her near the Bronze, the old nightclub that served as the headquarters of the vampires infesting Sunnydale.

Left to her own devices, Cordelia was next to helpless and would be easy pickings for any vampire with half a brain.

Oz hoped Cordelia had died quickly; the strain of killing demons that wore the faces of his friends and classmates and their parents was getting old.

Real old.

He didn't want to have to kill another friend.

Already too late to show up for homeroom, Oz headed for the library. The halls were eerily quiet, only an occasional murmur reaching his ears from behind closed classroom doors. At last count, only 157 students in four grades still attended Sunnydale High.

Four years ago, his class alone was over three hundred strong.

Fucking vampire parasites.

The library was empty.

"Giles? Hey, Giles, man, you here?" he called out.

No answer greeted him and Oz felt the beginnings of fear tickle the back of his conscience. Dropping his backpack on the table, he walked into the ex-Watcher's office. It, too, was empty, but Oz breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed the still-steaming teapot on the credenza.

Giles had been here and recently.

"Excuse me, young man."

With a startled gasp, Oz spun at the sound of the unfamiliar voice behind him. With practiced ease, he slipped a wooden stake out of his jacket pocket, although he knew, rationally, that no vampire walked in daylight.

The portly man standing behind him took a wary step back when he saw the weapon in the boy's hand. He held up a cautioning hand. "Hold on, please! I-I'm here to see Rupert Giles."

"Who the hell are you?" the red-haired boy asked, not lowering the stake. Of course, there were demons that walked at day.

The man smiled, his breath smelling faintly soured from too much drink. He held out his hand, but dropped it when Oz simply stared at him.

"Merrick. Richard Merrick, Buffy Summers' guardian."

---

"Hey, Oz-man, what's up?" Larry asked as he joined Oz an hour later. The beefy former football player took a seat opposite the other young man, swinging his feet up onto the research table.

Oz had spent the better part of the past hour watching Giles and Merrick argue heatedly behind the glass door of the librarian's office. On more than one occasion, the argument had escalated to the point that he wondered if the two men would come to blows. He couldn't hear everything that was being said, but the random word filtered out to him.

Buffy.

Hellmouth.

Immoral.

And, strangely enough, molester.

Molester.

Several clues were slowly clicking into place, gleaned from observation and a fair amount of eavesdropping. Buffy's reluctance to talk about her life in Cleveland, her excruciating lack of pride in herself, her refusal to loosen up.

It was all beginning to make the kind of sense that was wrong.

"Who's that?" Larry asked as he watched Giles turn away from the other man, his handsome face set in grim lines.

"Buffy's Watcher."

"No shit? You suppose he's here to take her home?"

Oz shrugged. "I hope not. He's an asshole, major. She's better off here, with people who care for her."

Larry smirked. "Yeah, I'd like to care for her, if she'd relax a minute."

"Don't talk about Buffy that way, she's okay."

"For an ice princess, I guess. Frigid as the Antarctic, my friend," Larry said.

"Besides, you don't want to have to cross Angel to get to her, do you? He'd rip you a new one if you laid so much as a finger on her," Oz replied, thinking about the vampire and his near-obsessive attachment to the Slayer.

"Whatever. She'd be hot if she'd dress up once in a while. No Harmony Kendall, but still a looker."

Oz snorted. "Harmony's a ditz. Girl wouldn't know a demon if it came up and smacked her with a rolled-up newspaper. At least Buffy's smart. She's just been hurt."

Before Larry could reply, the office door opened and the two men exited, Merrick first with a thoroughly disgusted Giles following.

"Don’t either of you have a class to attend?" Giles asked as he removed his glasses, wearily cleaning them with a handkerchief.

"Yeah. I'm blowin' it off," Larry said. "No one cares and anyway, the rumor's going around again that the school's closing for good."

Giles glanced up. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Here and there. It spreads around school every couple of months or so," Oz answered. "They might as well; pretty soon, there won't be enough students left to fill a classroom."

The librarian turned to the other Watcher. "See? This town is under siege and it won’t last much longer, if you take Buffy away from here."

Merrick folded his arms and glared at Giles, unimpressed. "Then it won't matter. I'm taking her home with me. Today."

The man's pompous words set Oz's teeth on edge. He sat up and fixed the man with a steely frown. "I think Buffy might have a problem with that. Don't you think you should ask her what she wants to do?"

Merrick laughed mirthlessly. "Buffy Summers is my responsibility, to raise as I see fit. She hasn't a choice in the matter. Furthermore, she's needed in Cleveland."

Giles snorted in disgust.

"I can only begin to imagine for what," Oz said, his hatred for the man growing exponentially.

Merrick's oily smile faded, to be replaced by a glimmer of rage deep in his close-set eyes. "I'll thank you to mind your own business, young man. This doesn't concern you."

Oz stood up. Although shorter than Merrick by a good five inches and outweighed by at least a hundred pounds, the smaller boy had faced down scarier things than this self-absorbed pervert. "It does when it concerns a good friend."

"Oz, please... " Giles said. "May I remind you, Merrick, you are no longer Buffy's Watcher. The Council has seen to it."

"Is that so?"

Giles wanted to strangle the arrogant ass; Merrick was looking at him with utter defiance, as if taunting the smaller man to touch him. "The Buffy Summers that came to Sunnydale four months ago is not the same girl you've been mistreating... "

"Mistreating? That's rich, Rupert, old man! She's really suckered you in with her poor little virgin act!" Merrick leaned forward, a knowing smile twisting his lips. "She's little better than an alleycat, lifting her tail for any man that... "

With a snarl of rage, Giles grabbed Merrick's shirtfront, his fist slamming with stunning speed into the man's nose. Blood spurted from the Watcher's nostrils, splattering Giles' hands and gushing over his chin.

Larry leaped to his feet and grabbed Giles before he could inflict any more damage on the other man. Oz stepped between the two men, his angry gaze shifting to Merrick. The Watcher had both hands cupped over his bruised nose, moaning in pain.

"It would probably be the better part of valor to remove yourself from Sunnydale," the boy said calmly despite the violent trembling in his stomach.

"How dare you! This is an a-absolute outrage!" Merrick sputtered in fury. "You find that little whore and tell her she's coming home!"

He straightened up and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pressing it to his nose. He faced Giles with a deadly gleam in his tiny eyes. "That bitch is mine. MINE! Don't interfere again!"

As Merrick turned to stalk out of the library, the doors swung open and Buffy walked in. She stumbled to a halt when she saw Merrick and paled. Oz took a step towards her, thinking she might pass out.

She looked horrified and the red-haired boy wondered if it was from fear or shock at seeing her Watcher covered with blood.

"M-m-merrick... I-I... when did you... ?" she whispered, her eyes quickly finding Giles', begging for understanding.

"Mr. Merrick was just leaving, Buffy. You have nothing to worry about," Giles answered, his eyes reassuring her.

The Slayer looked from Giles to Merrick and her former Watcher smiled coldly, an action made even more grotesque by the blood staining his lower face. She blinked hard, trying to keep the tears that welled up from spilling over. "Why d-did you c-come here?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically timid.

"I need you at home, young lady. Where you belong." The tone of his voice left no doubt in anyone's mind just exactly where Merrick wanted her. He sidled up to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder, bared by her sleeveless tank top. Buffy flinched at his unwanted touch.

She looked good. No, not good, fabulous. Gone was the pallor and pinched look of hunger. Merrick's lustful gaze took in Buffy's healthy complexion, rosy from the Southern California sun; her long hair, falling in loose waves nearly to her waist, was sun-streaked, platinum and gold strands caressing her creamy skin.

But, what he enjoyed most was the fear and surrender emanating from her. It screamed from her bowed head, slumped shoulders, her tremulous pout.

Looking at those lips, at the scar he had inflicted himself, imagining all of the sinful things he could make those lips do, made Merrick quiver in barely suppressed desire.

When he got Buffy back to Cleveland, he'd show her just how much of a slut she really was.

He'd make her beg for his forgiveness, for hiding from him.

"I'd advise you to remove yourself from the premises," Giles said, not missing the fear in Buffy's eyes. "I will call for the police."

Merrick whirled on him, his hand falling to grasp Buffy's upper arm. His thick fingers dug deep into her flesh and she winced in pain. "SHUT UP, you stupid British faggot! She's not your problem!"

Giles stared at him in despair. "How in the bloody hell did you ever become a Watcher? It is your sworn duty to protect and care for the Slayer's interests! Not rape her when she's grieving for her murdered parents!"

Larry and Oz exchanged a look of horror at the revelation and Buffy flushed magenta with shame.

"Rape? Rape? You are joking, I'm sure! She told you that?" Merrick hauled Buffy forward, reaching out with the other hand to grasp a handful of her hair. "Are those the lies you're spreading, you sneaky cunt? You spread your legs for me! You wanted it!" Larry took a step forward, prepared to beat the hell out of the much larger man, but Giles shook his head and slipped away to his office.

Buffy's tears fell in torrents now, as she reached up, trying to unlock his fingers from their brutal grip. "No! That's n-not true! Y-you f-f-forced me to... to do those horrible things!" she cried.

Merrick slapped her viciously, his hold on her hair keeping her head from snapping back. He raised his hand to hit her again when he found himself looking down the barrel of a loaded crossbow.

Giles' pale eyes glinted dangerously over the deadly weapon, the promise of murder in their normally-placid depths. "Let. Her. Go." he whispered.

Unlacing his fingers from her hair, the Watcher let Buffy go. The Slayer crumpled to the floor, her tiny shoulders shaking. "Rupert, you have no idea what you're doing... " Merrick started to say, but trailed off when the crossbow moved a fraction closer to his face.

"You're going to leave Sunnydale, now, and you will never step foot near this town or this girl for as long as you live... "

Merrick started to protest, taking a menacing step towards Buffy, who scrambled away on her hands and knees, staying out of his reach. Oz knelt down by the Slayer as Larry blocked Merrick's movement.

Giles continued, unfazed. "... and if I should ever see your face again, ever, I will kill you. I will strike you down where you stand and feed your carcass to the sharks."

"You have no right! I am her Watcher!"

"Not anymore. Are we clear?"

Merrick snarled in fury and Giles pressed the sharp tip of the crossbow into the hollow of his throat. "Are...we... clear?"

The silence in the library was so complete, Oz could distinctly hear Buffy's heart hammering in her chest. He glanced at the pretty Slayer and saw that she was watching the confrontation in amazement, staring at Giles with adoration. Oz smiled softly and slipped his arm around her shoulders. Buffy blushed and let him help her to her feet.

Merrick blinked. The depth of their devotion to the whore was astounding. He had never had anything but contempt for the little girl, since the day he approached her outside of Hemery High School and she proceeded to babble about stolen lipsticks and lack of destiny. Her brainless chatter, so typical of American teenagers, had worn thin and by the time her socialite parents had been murdered by vampires, he had been eager to punish her for ruining his life.

And, from that moment forward, Merrick had wished every day would be her last and he would be released from this prison.

Except Merrick never gave up anything that belonged to him and Buffy Summers belonged to him, body and soul. If it took him until the end of time, he would make her pay for humiliating him.

Lifting his hands in surrender, Merrick backed away, hampered by Larry's grip on his arms. "Let me go, you overfed farm boy!" he snapped. Larry smirked, but let him go at Giles' nod.

"You're welcome to her. I've been trying to get rid of the bitch since the day I met her." Dabbing at his still-leaking nose with the handkerchief, Merrick spun on his heel and walked to the double swinging doors. He paused and looked back at Buffy. He smiled maliciously.

"She's a bad fuck, gentlemen. Don't waste your time on her unless you get off on doing it with a corpse."

With that final parting jab, Merrick stormed out.

Buffy took a deep shaky breath and when she released it, the dam inside her burst and she sobbed. Thrusting the crossbow into Oz's hands, Giles gathered the tiny girl in his arms, rocking her soothingly.

Giving herself up to his fatherly embrace, Buffy wept bitterly.

---

"How are you feeling?"

Buffy looked up from the laundry she was folding while sitting cross-legged on Giles' bed. She smiled faintly. "Fine."

When the librarian gave her a disbelieving look, she shrugged. "I don't know... a little sad, I guess."

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, Giles picked up a pair of her jeans, deftly folding the garment and laying it aside. "For Merrick?"

"Not really for him... I don't know... I guess... "

She paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"You guess what?" Giles prompted.

Buffy looked embarrassed. "I always knew he didn't like me, but it's hard knowing that he hates me so very much. I never asked for this, you know."

Giles nodded thoughtfully. "And for that, Buffy, I am so very sorry. Your life was stripped from you, brutally, and what have you received in return? What price have you paid?"

He watched Buffy fold her pitiful collection of clothing in silence, smiling wistfully as she put the neat stack back into the laundry basket. Making a promise to himself to take her shopping sometime soon, Giles handed her the pair of jeans he had folded.

Laying them in the basket, Buffy looked up. "You know, I came to Sunnydale to die."

Giles could only stare at her in shock, unsure if he properly understood her. "What? What do you mean?"

Scooping up the basket, Buffy walked over to the dresser. She proceeded to put away the clothing. "I came here to die. I didn't expect to survive the battle with the Master, in fact, I hoped I wouldn't."

"Why on earth, Buffy...?"

Buffy looked at herself in the mirror, then her eyes met his in the glass. "What did I have to live for? I was tired, Giles. Tired and burnt out and empty. I honestly was beginning to wonder how much longer I could do this."

"What changed?"

She smiled shyly. "You. Oz and Larry. You're the best friends I've had in years." She laughed to herself softly. Giles smiled at the sound of her rare laughter. "I guess Angel has a little something to do with it as well."

"Buffy, when you came to Sunnydale, the young woman I saw was... cold. Hard. Lifeless. At seventeen years old, you had ceased living," Giles said softly. "It broke my heart to see such a promising life broken by the abominations that you face on a nightly basis."

Buffy turned and leaned against the dresser, arms folded over her breasts in a subconsciously protective stance. "You noticed a lot."

"What I've noticed is a girl who is learning to live again."

"I don't know why I'm bothering. Slayers don't exactly have a healthy prognosis," she said, defeat clouding her face again.

Giles looked away as unbidden memories of his Slayer, Denise, filled his mind. She had been the Chosen One before Buffy was called in 1996. She'd only lasted less than a year before being killed in an ambush set up by the Master's protégé, Darla. The Council had allowed him to remain in Sunnydale, working to find a way to close the Hellmouth. On countless occasions, he had nearly given up and moved back to England, but, now, looking at the young woman in front of him, he was so very glad he hadn't.

Meeting Buffy had given him a new lease on life, as well. And, he'd be doubly damned if he'd allow her to wallow in her own misery.

Standing up, he held out his hand to her. "Why don't we see if we can rummage something up for supper? And, I feel like a spot of tea."

Buffy took his hand, grinning as his lean fingers closed over her tiny ones. "Jeeves, you always feel like a spot of tea. I think you use it for blood."

"I don't see you turning it down. It's good for the soul."

They bickered good-naturedly as they went downstairs.

---

The night sky was lightening to pale lavender as Buffy walked down Crawford Street. An early-morning fog had rolled in off the Pacific, bringing with it a teeth-chattering cold that made the Slayer pull her thin jacket closer around her body.

As she neared Angel's mansion, she shifted her crossbow to the other shoulder, wincing as the strap brushed the wound on her back. In her last battle with three particularly nasty vamps, one had pulled loose a metal bar from a nearby shop window and slashed her with it. Buffy could tell it wasn't too deep, but she'd lost enough blood to make her slightly dizzy.

Of course, it hadn't stopped her from gleefully staking all three demons.

Pausing outside on the sidewalk, Buffy looked up at the dark, mysterious dwelling, shrouded in tendrils of fog, like something out of an old horror movie. She almost turned and left, not wanting to face Angel after their fight over two weeks ago. She hadn't seen him since, though she felt his presence as he followed her. Instead of wigging her out like it might have at one time, his devotion to keeping her safe warmed her tender heart.

Skirting the side of the house, Buffy walked down into the sunken garden and made her way on silent feet to the French doors. She didn't see Angel, knowing that, at this time of the morning, he was probably asleep. Carefully, she opened the door and slipped inside.

The only light in the cavernous room came from the low fire crackling in the grate. Buffy lay the crossbow on the floor and shrugged out of her jacket. The fabric stuck to the cut and she cried out. Slumping down on the couch, she craned her neck, trying to look at the wound.

"Buffy? Is that you?"

Jumping back to her feet, Buffy stared at Angel. He was standing in the doorway leading back to his bedroom, his figure barely discernible in the dim glow of the fire.

"Um, yeah. Uh, hi."

He walked closer and Buffy had to consciously struggle to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. He looked absolutely beautiful, his pale skin awash in the fire's coppery glow, his bare chest and legs looked sculpted from marble, like a statue Buffy had once seen on a museum outing with her mother, years ago.

His sable-dark hair glinted with silver and gold light and his eyes, always so warm whenever he looked at her, gleamed with some undefined emotion. She stared at him, unaware of the hunger in her gaze as he poked at the fire until it was roaring, filling the room with shimmering light. When he turned to face her, she looked away, the vision of him clad in nothing more than a pair of loose dark trousers causing her to tremble.

"Buffy, are you okay? I smell... "

"What?"

He smiled apologetically. "I smell blood. Yours."

"I... uh... I got into a fight with three vamps and one of them got in a parting shot."

She took a step back as he came closer to her.

"Let me see?"

"O-okay." Buffy turned her back to him, her fingers twisting together nervously. Even the anticipation of his touch made her stomach flutter.

Angel slipped his fingers under the strap of her tank, feeling her flinch in reaction to his cool touch. He pulled the fabric away from her cut, seeing, with relief, that it was nearly closed. Letting his hand trail across her silky skin, he leaned close to her ear.

"It's almost closed. Let me get something to clean it with."

Buffy giggled weakly, the sound seemingly loud in the huge room. "You always seem to be cleaning me up."

Angel smiled at her bowed head, noticing the grass and twigs stuck in her braid and the smudges of dirt on her golden skin. "I don't mind. I love taking care of you."

Her head snapped up, green eyes searching his for any indication of deceit. But, there was none. She nodded and walked over to the sofa, sinking into its soft comfort.

"I'm sorry I woke you up. I was in the neighborhood and... that sounds lame, Summers... anyway, I know I've been a bitch, well, a raving bitch... " she said, as Angel walked back to his room. When he didn't answer, she shrugged and lay back against the cushions.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Angel asked as he came back in the room a few minutes later. He carried the bottle of antiseptic and a piece of gauze in his hands.

"Oh! Well, I... I haven't seen you around in awhile and I just wanted to apologize... you know... for being so bitchy," Buffy said as the vampire sat down behind her.

"You weren't being a bitch, you were just being cautious."

"Still, it doesn't give...OW! That burns!" she squealed when he dabbed the antiseptic on her cut.

Angel chuckled. "You didn't cry the last time I did this."

"I think I was in shock."

"There, all done." Setting aside the bottle and gauze, Angel busied himself unbraiding Buffy's hair. Startled, she reached around to halt his action, but Angel caught her fingers in his and pressed a light kiss to the tips. "Let me?"

The infernal butterflies had started up in her belly again and Buffy swallowed tightly. "Okay."

"You have such beautiful hair, you know that? It's like a blanket of gold, woven from the finest silk threads," Angel whispered as he worked his fingers through the wavy strands. The heavy mass fell over his hands and down Buffy's back.

"You have a line for every occasion, don't you?" Buffy whispered, leaning into his touch.

Angel smiled. "That's funny. I never had much to say before I met you. At least, not while I had my soul."

"What changed?" she asked, echoing Giles' words from their conversation a few days prior.

"My fantasy became flesh."

To her utter embarrassment, Buffy felt an erotic heat flood her body, turning her skin pink and her core moist. "Um, I, uh... I don't know... "

Angel closed his eyes as the scent of her arousal assaulted his senses. His hands glided over her shoulders and down her arms until he was embracing her, his fingers twining with hers. Buffy leaned back against his bare chest, her head pushing into the curve of his neck.

With his lips only centimeters from her ear, Angel whispered, "Come on, I have a surprise for you."

Buffy giggled, an uncharacteristically happy sound. "You have no idea how many men use that one to get me into their clutches."

"Does it work?"

"Never." Buffy let him pull her to her feet. "What's my surprise?"

"Now, it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you."

Buffy followed Angel into his bedroom, her gaze straying to the inviting king-size bed with its tangle of silk and velvet bedclothes. The vampire tugged her into the bathroom, where a nearly full bathtub was abounding with fluffy white bubbles. He turned off the tap and let go of her hand. "I thought you might like a bubble bath to wash away the battle."

The innocent excitement on Buffy's face was enchanting to behold. Her emerald eyes gleamed in anticipation and Angel nearly groaned aloud as lust rocketed through him. He moved around the room, lighting candles, as Buffy dipped her hand into the steaming water.

"Oooh, just perfect! Angel, you are so thoughtful!"

Angel looked down at her shining face and unable to restrain himself any longer, he curled one hand around the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers.

Tilting her face up to his, Buffy met his kiss shyly, her eyelids fluttering closed as his lips slid seductively over hers, coaxing a response.

At first, the kiss was sweet, chaste, but as Angel cupped her face in his hands, Buffy willingly parted her lips as he drew his tongue along the curve of her lower lip. With a moan, Angel gently savaged her mouth, his lips and teeth and tongue drawing an equally raw response from the tiny girl in his arms.

Buffy arched her body into his, her arms sliding over his broad shoulders to pull him closer. She entwined her tongue with his, pausing to nibble at the corner of his mouth, only to gasp when he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, grazing the tender flesh with his teeth. She was so wet now, she could feel her panties sticking to her skin and the ache grew in her belly.

With a growl, Angel finally broke their embrace, shaking violently in an effort to control the demon that was howling inside him. Buffy gazed up at him with an expression of such sweetness that he wanted to throw her to the cold, tile floor and bury himself in her heated body, take her savagely, make her scream over and over as he pleasured her.

Buffy knew the struggle he was fighting, she felt the heavy thrust of his erection against her belly and she needed it, needed him like a drug. "Angel... " she whispered as she drew her hands over his chest, her fingernails scratching lightly over his nipples.

"Your bath's getting cold, baby." He backed away from her, nearly undone by the desire reflected in her eyes. "Let me know if you need anything, I'll be in the other room."

As he pulled the door partially shut behind him, Buffy moaned in delight. She looked wistfully at the inviting bath as she quickly pulled off her clothes. It had been so very long since she had indulged in something so decadent and she planned to enjoy every single minute.

---

Angel read the same paragraph over for the sixth time before finally laying the book aside. He looked towards the bathroom door, a pensive expression on his face. She had been in there for almost twenty minutes and, instead of fading, his need was only increasing.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he padded over to the door, listening for any sound. Only the occasional splash told him she was still in the bath. "Buffy? You okay?"

"Mm-hmm. You can come in," she called out, her voice sounding sleepy.

Angel pushed open the door and entered the candlelit room. He stumbled to a halt and his mouth popped open.

She was a goddess.

Buffy reclined against the back of the old-fashioned claw foot tub, her body draped in bubbles, one foot propped up on the edge of the porcelain fixture. Her hair, freshly-shampooed, was coiled on top of her head, several strands falling to curl damply against her flesh, blushed rosy from the water's heat.

"Wash my back?" she asked, peering up at him with drowsy eyes.

Dropping to his knees beside the tub, thankful that it would hide his throbbing erection, Angel took the washcloth she held out, along with a bar of soap.

"You're trying to kill me, you know that?"

Her expression was all innocence. "From what?"

"Lust. What you do to me... it should be illegal."

"I didn't know that vampires could die from that. I should look into adding it to my arsenal," she teased.

"If it were possible, every vampire in Sunnydale would spontaneously combust if they could see what I'm seeing right now," he chuckled as he soaped up the cloth.

Buffy sat up and leaned forward, giving Angel an unobstructed view of her smooth back. "And, what do you see?"

Gently, he drew the soapy cloth over her flesh, careful to avoid the healing wound. "Perfection. Sunlight and Heaven. No demon should be allowed to look at you and live," he whispered, as his hands glided over her skin, only a thin scrap of terrycloth keeping her from his touch.

Buffy tilted her head back to look at him, a doubtful look on her face, only to have her lips caught in a searing kiss. Taken completely off guard, she could only gasp in astonished delight. His previous kisses had been exciting, but this was soul shattering, a wild merging of lust and need. Shifting in the tub, Buffy rose to her knees, sloshing soapy water over the edge. Throwing every caution to the wind, she fell into his arms.

Thrilled beyond anything he had ever experienced, Angel all but mauled her soft mouth, thrusting his tongue between her lips and entwining with her own in an erotic imitation of what he really wanted to do to her. Dropping the washcloth in the tub, he scooped her wet body into his arms and, with his mouth still attached to hers, carried her into the bedroom.

As Angel laid her on the huge bed, any residual self-consciousness Buffy might've had disappeared under the scalding gaze he was giving her. With a welcoming smile, she held her arms out for him to join her atop the cool silk sheets.

Never taking his eyes from hers, Angel slid out of his pants, baring the hard evidence of his desire for her. Climbing up onto the mattress, he lay beside her, propped up on one elbow. For several moments, he contented himself with just looking at her, at everything from her damply curling hair and firm, rosy-tipped breasts to her pale, flat stomach and surprisingly curvy hips. Angel touched one finger to her belly button, dipping into it to scoop up a single bead of water that had settled there. With his dampened fingertip, he drew a single, feather-light line from her navel to the top of her cleft, delving into her dark gold curls and back again. He lifted smoky eyes to hers and Buffy flushed under the raw heat of his stare.

"Um, maybe, we should... um, turn off the light?" she whispered, her hand reaching up to brush against his smooth chest.

"No. I want to be able to look at you. I want to watch you when you come."

"Angel... " she started to say, but he silenced her with a kiss, as deep and carnal as the one before. Her arguments faded as he sucked gently on her tongue, his teeth rubbing against the tender flesh underneath. Once more, his fingers drifted lazily over her flat stomach, coming up to cup one breast, lifting the full weight of it, his thumb straying near her nipple, but not quite touching it.

Buffy scooted closer, her hip pressing against his cock, pushing it up farther until the tip nearly rested against his stomach. Curious, she touched him, her tiny fingers slipping from head to base, smiling in girlish enthusiasm when it twitched hard and Angel moaned. Emboldened by his encouraging sounds, she made a circle with her thumb and middle finger and stroked him in a continuous, smooth motion. He was thrusting his hips into her hand, aiding her inquisitive touch.

Sighing breathlessly, Buffy moved as close to him as she could, head pillowed atop his shoulder, her hand sliding over his cock. The dampness of her hand, mixed with the droplets of slippery fluid leaking from his reddened tip eased her stroke and her hand glided faster. Under her ear, a steady growl rumbled through Angel's chest and the hand fondling her breasts became a little more insistent, a little rougher.

"Buff... Buffy, honey, wait... " he finally whispered, his hand dropping to wrap around hers, stilling her movement.

Lifting her head, she looked at him, desire glazing her eyes. "Hmm? I'm not doing it right?" She started to pull away, but Angel used his grip on her wrist to pull her up against his chest.

"Baby, you're doing it fine. It's just... I'm on the verge here and I don't wanna come yet," he said, smiling as he slipped his hand around her waist to squeeze her bottom.

"Oh."

He nuzzled her neck, resting his lips against her throbbing pulse, his heightened sense of smell easily scenting her blood, just under the surface of her sweet skin. Once more, he slid his hand between her thighs, his index finger easing between her lips, finding her hidden folds slick with inner moisture. Buffy gasped as his finger brushed over her sensitive clit and she arched into his touch. "Oh, Angel, God... "

"I know, baby, just let it happen," he whispered against her cheek, his long fingers dancing over her trembling flesh, one pushing into her wet channel. He thrust it into her slowly, curling his fingertip upward, pressing against nerve endings Buffy had no idea she possessed. She tossed her head and cried out, her hips bucking on his finger.

"A-angel...? "

"Yeah, baby?"

She paused, her brow furrowing as if she had lost her train of thought. Closing her eyes, she sighed and rocked her hips back and forth as Angel carefully inserted another finger, gently stretching her.

"I... um... I wish, I wish... "

Brushing her swollen lips with his, Angel smiled, his hand never stilling. "Tell me."

Buffy's tear-filled eyes fastened on his face. "I wish I could be a virgin for you."

His soul swelling in pain for the tortured girl, Angel captured her lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue swirling around hers, his teeth nibbling at her scar. Pushing his fingers deep into her slick core, Angel rubbed his thumb over her clit and Buffy sobbed his name, her slender body arching right up off the bed.

With one hand digging into his shoulder, Buffy felt her first orgasm rage through her with the force of a freight train and she wailed. She shook violently as Angel continued to bring her over the top again and again. His fingers glided in and out of her vagina and Buffy clenched on him rhythmically, her tear-soaked face buried against his shoulder.

Easing her onto her back, Angel continued to move his hand on her, bringing her down slowly. Looking down at her lovely face, he felt all of the emotion, all of the love he'd been suppressing for her since he first saw her in LA, come rushing to the fore.

After this night, he'd never let her go.

Buffy opened her eyes languidly, their emerald color deeper and full of need. She tilted her head back so that he could rain little kisses all over her face. "Wow."

"We're not done, baby. Not by a long shot."

With a sweet smile, Buffy boldly cupped him in her hand, squeezing gently. "I hope not."

"Buffy, honey, what you said before, about not being a virgin for me?"

Blushing, Buffy tried to brush it off. "It's okay, I shouldn't have said... "

"I don't want you to ever feel like there's something wrong with you. I know what happened to you before, with your Watcher, that wasn't sex, it wasn't love. You're my virgin, Buffy. My true love."

She was melting all over again, the ache between her thighs growing. "I've never felt like this before. I'd never. . you know, um, reacted like that."

"I know." Angel raised his hand and casually licked his fingers clean, much to Buffy's shock. "You taste sweet."

For an answer, she licked his lips, tasting herself on them. "I want everything, Angel. I want you to make me all yours, make me forget that outside this house is a world out of control."

He was throbbing hard and cool in her tiny hand, feeling impossibly huge and she wondered how it would even fit inside her. Merrick, thankfully, was quite a bit less than average and, aside from when he became extra rough, it hadn't really hurt, after the first few times.

Angel was once more thrusting in her hand, seeking friction in her firm grip. "I need you, Buffy. I need to lose myself in you," he grunted.

She was tugging him over her, her hands spreading over his shoulders. "Make me yours, Angel. Come inside me," came her hot little whisper.

It was all the invitation he needed. As he swung his body over hers, Buffy spread her legs wide, her upper thighs damp with her own lubrication. She flinched as she felt his cock sliding against her wet cleft, delving between the plump lips.

Angel propped himself up on one elbow while reaching between their bodies with the other. He stroked her tiny opening with one finger, then replaced it with the head of his cock. A single push of his hips brought him inside her. As he slid deep, he gasped at the sensation of tight, wet heat that surrounded him, drawing him into her fire. With a rumbling growl, Angel couldn't help the shift into his vamp-face.

His transformation startled Buffy, at first, but as Angel pushed into her, his cock filling her to the point of pain, she eagerly thrust up to meet him. Taking his face in her hands, Buffy pulled him down to her, kissing him wildly, not caring as his fangs cut into her lips.

Buffy's unconditional acceptance of his vampire self was complete. She took him, man and demon, inside her and Angel knew that there had been no experience in his two hundred forty-three years that would ever rival being so intimately joined with this woman that he loved so desperately. Pulling back, almost out of her, Angel lifted one of her legs up to his waist so that she was cradling him, then he slammed back into her.

Buffy sensed the pent-up aggression simmering below the surface and she urged him on with breathless whispers and the drag of her fingernails over the smooth flesh of his back. She'd never in life felt something as divine as being filled by this man, this vampire who had worshipped her from the day she'd let him out of the Master's prison. She had fought it, raged against the inevitable attraction, tried to think of him as nothing but a demon.

But, the pull between them was too great, the mindless need for each other too strong.

Angel braced himself on one forearm and rocked inside her velvety, wet core. She had lifted both legs and wrapped them around his bucking hips, her eyes glazing over as she lifted her hips to meet his increasingly frantic thrusts. She squeezed him with her inner muscles and was promptly rewarded with a growl and a savage, bruising kiss. He reached between their bodies and began to rub her burning clit. The sweet explosions that burst inside her sent Buffy over the edge again, her scream echoing in the room.

She was soaking, her honey covering his fingers and the scent of her orgasm sent Angel crashing after her. Pushing himself up onto his hands, he pounded into her quivering body, Buffy's thighs clamping around him as she worked herself on his cock.

With a hoarse cry, Angel thrust deep and spilled his cold seed into her womb, his climax bringing Buffy with him yet again. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he groaned in spent desire, the heat of his lover's flushed, damp skin nearly scalding him. He finally lifted his head to look up at Buffy.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and tears slipped from the corners to fall into her hair. He cupped her cheek in sudden concern, one thumb rubbing over the wetness. "Oh, baby... "

With a strangled cry, Buffy clung to him, her body quivering in the aftermath of the incredible experience. "I-I... never, oh God, I never imagined... "

"I wanted our first time to be good, not rushed, not forced," Angel whispered, his fingers tracing her trembling lips.

Buffy opened her eyes and smiled the sweetest smile he had ever seen on her lips. Again, he was struck speechless by her loveliness. "It was perfect. So perfect with you... was it... I mean, was I... okay?"

Angel rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him. Buffy sprawled across his chest, her thighs falling to either side of his hips. She blushed when she realized how wet she still was, that it was still coming out of her.

"Buffy, my love, you were perfect, beautiful, every dream come true." Angel smoothed her hair back from her glistening face, the long strands falling in a curtain around them. "I love you."

Even though she didn't speak the words, the years of hurt locking them inside her, her love shone from her eyes and Angel smiled.

Capturing her lips in a devouring kiss, Angel set out to show Buffy just how much he adored her.

---

"So, how many do you s'pose she has now?" Scott asked, his eyes riveted on the hunched figure of Xander's newest plaything.

Vincent glanced at the other vampire, his contempt blatantly reflected in his pale blue eyes. The demon who had once been a sixteen-year-old boy by the name of Scott Hope had long since passed the level of being merely annoying. His new status as Willow's sex and torture toy had given him an inflated sense of importance. Vincent would've liked nothing better than to kick the unholy shit out of the smaller vamp, then run a wooden stake through his dead heart.

"I don't know. Twenty, maybe. Thirty. I haven't been counting."

Scott straightened up and nudged Vincent with a 'watch this' grin. "Hey, Cordelia! I like your collection. It's real pretty."

The crumpled girl kneeling on the floor looked up through a hank of dirty, dark hair. Eyes, wild and uncomprehending, glittered yellow behind the curtain. She ignored them then, her fingers reaching out to rearrange the pile of tiny corpses on the concrete floor. For a week, the newly-created vampire had scurried and crawled around the Bronze, in and out of the basement and rafters like some kind of squirrel, hunting mice for her ever-growing collection. Xander, after initially letting her drink from him, had refused to let her hunt, so she had been forced to find whatever creature she could to sate the gnawing hunger for blood.

Vincent knew that some of the vampires in their cadre had taken pity on the girl and brought her more substantial gifts; the occasional dog or cat would turn up, ripped apart by her frenzied, untutored feeding. But, for the most part, she was left alone, no longer of interest to the minions now that she was one of them. Even the rare attempt at mating with her had been abandoned when she went into flamboyant hysterics at the slightest touch.

Therefore, Cordelia was left alone, to mutter to herself and hunt mice, sucking them dry, then shaping their broken little bodies into an evolving artwork. Vincent found her unnerving.

Tossing aside the magazine he had been glancing through, Vincent rose to his impressive six foot five height, looming over Scott. "I wouldn't torment her, if I were you. Xander'll skin you alive and he doesn't like you anyway. It wouldn’t take much."

Scott snorted, unimpressed. "What's his problem with me? I didn't do anything to him."

"You fucked his woman."

"You got it all wrong, my friend. Willow fucked me. I just laid back and enjoyed her considerable charms," Scott smirked.

Vincent almost laughed. The other vampire's conceit was getting on his nerves, but he took comfort in the fact that Xander would get his revenge.

Eventually.

Scott's days were numbered.

As he walked out of the main room of the nightclub, he could hear Scott taunting Cordelia. He shook his head; let him get her all agitated. It would just earn him a vicious beating from Xander.

Maybe get himself killed, if there was any justice at all in this miserable world.

---

The sun was creeping toward the horizon when Buffy awoke. With her eyes still tightly closed, she stretched drowsily. Her body ached in all sorts of interesting places, but it was the best kind of ache she had ever felt. Every inch of her skin, every muscle, was alive with new sensations.

Including the cool pressure of Angel's body against her back.

Her eyes snapped open as visions of their early morning lovemaking flooded her memory. It had been nearly noon before Angel had finally let her fall into blissful, exhausted sleep. Even now, she could still feel his phantom touch on her breasts, her face, inside her. The memory alone made her body tingle and her core moisten.

Twisting in his embrace, Buffy turned onto her back, pushing her face into the smoothness of his neck. She trailed her fingers over his arm as she pressed soft kisses against his throat.

A rumble vibrated through his chest and his arms tightened around her waist. "Hey, sleepyhead."

Buffy looked up to see Angel's dark eyes, half-slits, fastened on her, a soft smile curving his lips. "You're awake."

"With you wiggling in such a delightful way, you expect me to sleep?"

From the feel of the erection nudging her thigh, Buffy figured sleep was the farthest thing from his mind. She smiled and turned to face him. "Do you want me to stop? I can, you know."

With a jerk of his arm, Angel tugged her atop him, arching his hips so his cock slid against her wet cleft. Buffy gasped, trembling as he pushed up into a sitting position. His large hands cupped her breasts, his fingers dancing lightly over her hypersensitive nipples. "I think you should do whatever you want."

Any thought of getting out of this bed fled her mind. Splaying her palms over his smooth chest, Buffy rocked back and forth on his stomach, leaving a smear of wetness on his cool skin. The preternatural chill of his flesh felt wonderful between her thighs, cooling her overheating skin. The fact that he was a vampire, a demon with the face and body of a man no longer fazed her. The only important thing to her was his love and the way he made her feel.

She wanted him inside her, stretching her, filling her with his cold essence. Closing her eyes, Buffy concentrated on all of the sensations assaulting her body; Angel's fingertips on her nipples, brushing them with a feather light touch; his cock, steel-hard and curving against the roundness of her ass; his muscled stomach, flexing underneath her hips.

And then, there were his eyes. Buffy didn't need to open her own to feel his gaze burning through her, the devotion and desire like a blanket warming her soul.

"I need you, Angel... " she moaned, unable to wait any longer. Rising up on her knees, Buffy eased herself onto his cock, a gasp tearing past her lips as her tender, well-loved flesh protested the invasion. Bracing her hands on his broad shoulders, she thrust down on him, the brief discomfort disappearing as heat flooded her core.

"Ahhh, God, Buffy! Oh, baby... " the vampire cried out as he was enveloped in pure fire. Grasping her hips in his hands, he helped her to slowly work herself on him. Buffy's eyes flew open and she stared down at him with an awestruck look. A sweet smile curved her lips as she took control. Slowly she rocked back and forth on his cock, patiently taking her pleasure.

Raising his knees, Angel braced his feet on the bed and gently pushed Buffy back until she was leaning against his thighs. The position brought his cock even deeper into her body and Angel could feel her inner muscles flex rhythmically along his rigid flesh. Laying his palm low against her abdomen, he pressed inward. As Buffy rose and fell on him, he could feel himself.

Buffy was lost. He was hitting spots inside her she had no idea existed and she knew that this time was going to be very, very good. Reaching behind her, she wrapped her hands around Angel's thighs, her fingernails digging into his flesh. She groaned as he slipped his fingers between her slick folds, touching her where they were joined.

"Angel... it's so... so... "

"Tell me, baby," he whispered, his gaze full of her.

Buffy could only sigh, her hips moving with increasing urgency. Droplets of sweat made her straining body glisten in the soft lamplight, the moist slap of their flesh and their soft whispers the only sounds.

She was so wet now that it all but dripped out of her and the sweet scent that was uniquely Buffy filled Angel's senses. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and his hips rotated frantically under hers. Slipping his fingers into her heat, he stroked the tiny bud of her clit.

Her scream echoed against the stone walls as she exploded in ecstasy. Her inner muscles clamped down on him so hard he almost screamed with her. Watching her climax, so long and hard, Angel was sure he had never seen anyone as beautiful as the woman astride him. Buffy's hair fell in a tangled mass of gold around her shoulders and her face glowed with rapture. Their eyes met and locked, emerald green to chocolate brown, every unspoken emotion they felt passing between them.

Buffy was still trembling and crying from the force of her orgasm when Angel twisted, tossing her onto her back and driving forcefully back into her. His demon face surfaced, his eyes glowing gold and his fangs lengthening. Pushing one hand underneath Buffy's ass, he lifted her so that he could fill her completely.

Lifting her legs around his waist, Buffy arched into his frenzied thrusts, her body spiraling back into an abyss of mindless pleasure. She clung to him as another scream bubbled up from her throat. Angel joined her this time, growling as he spilled his cold seed deep into her belly.

With a muffled cry, Buffy kissed him, her hands coming up to cup his face. Angel lost himself in the erotic act, his tongue sweeping over her full lips before dipping inside. He gently sucked her tongue into his mouth, his teeth nipping at the tip. Buffy's hands were gliding over his back, her fingernails sending shivers down his spine.

"Buffy, I love you, baby. Forever, I'll love you."

Buffy smiled and pressed her face against his shoulder, her eyelids already beginning to grow heavy. Angel pulled her over onto her side as he lifted himself off of her completely sated body. As they clung together, sleep drawing them, the vampire and the Slayer shared a lingering kiss.

"Angel?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Angel pulled her close, their legs and arms entwined.

Buffy lifted her face to gaze at him drowsily. "Never leave me?"

If he'd had a living heart, Angel was sure that it would have burst from the intensity of his feelings for her. He nuzzled Buffy's damp neck, smelling her blood so close to the surface. "I'll never leave you, my love. Not even death could part us."

"Promise?" she whispered, her voice sounding very far away as sleep began to claim her.

Angel pressed a kiss to her lips, right over the scar.

"I promise forever."

---

Giles was sitting at his desk, gazing off into space, a cup of Earl Grey sitting forgotten at his elbow. So engrossed was he in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the soft click of high heels behind him.

"Rupert?"

Startled, he turned around, narrowly avoiding sending the teacup crashing to the floor. "Oh!"

Billie Fraser, Sunnydale High's principal, smiled apologetically. "Goodness, Rupert, I'm sorry! I didn't intend to startle you."

"N-no, you didn't. Honestly." He jumped to his feet and beckoned her into the room. "Please, Mrs. Fraser, come in. May I interest you in a cup of tea?"

The principal stepped into the cluttered office. "No, thank you."

Giles sat back down at his desk as Mrs. Fraser took a seat on the battered leather sofa in the corner. "Rupert, will you be attending the City Council meeting tomorrow morning?"

He nodded, perplexed by the question. For the past six months, the City Council meetings, held on every second Tuesday, were deemed mandatory. They were largely unproductive, serving only to upset the remaining citizens of Sunnydale and causing them to rail against the lack of action towards the vampire infestation.

The all-morning meetings had ultimately resulted in school being closed for the day, although the students would've rather been in class instead of the boring meeting. Giles hated them with a passion, but grudgingly attended.

"Of course. Is something wrong?"

The older woman smiled tiredly as she absently smoothed a crease in her suit jacket. "I wanted to tell you first, since you understand, perhaps better than any of us, what this could possibly mean."

Giles leaned forward, his blue eyes fastened on her face. "Billie, what is it?"

"The county school board has decided to close Sunnydale High School. Permanently, effective this coming Monday. The seniors will be given credit for the rest of the year and their diplomas. Everyone else... well, they'll be making other arrangements."

Stunned, Giles stared at her, Oz's earlier words coming back to him. He guessed that this time the rumor was true. "My God... "

Mrs. Fraser blinked back tears as she slowly nodded. "It will be announced at the Council meeting in the morning. You're the only one of the faculty I intend to tell. I hope you understand."

Giles rose to his feet and strode over to the window overlooking the main room of the library. "What was the school board's reasoning? There are over 150 students in the high school and over two hundred fifty more in the lower grades. There are other schools in the surrounding counties that are as small, if not more so!"

The principal looked down at her plump hands, folded demurely in her lap. "But, not with Sunnydale's mortality rate. Or severely depressed economy. Face it, Rupert, this town is dying. This was inevitable."

"But, the California Board of Edu... " he started, turning to face the woman who had assumed the head position of the school after the last principal, Robert Flutie, had been murdered by vampires, over a year ago.

"Has slashed financial support to the point where we can no longer function as an viable institution of learning. Rupert, it's for the best. Hopefully, it will give our citizens the incentive to leave Sunnydale."

Mrs. Fraser rose gracefully and headed for the door. She paused and looked back at the stunned librarian. "If I were you, I would pack my bags and go right back to Britain.

"And, never, ever look back."

Giles didn't answer as she left him.

"If only it were that easy. If only."

---

Buffy was in the shower when Giles returned to the apartment. Relieved that she was safe and at home, he loosened his tie and slumped down on the couch. The television was on, the volume turned down very low, a Bugs Bunny cartoon flitting spastically across the screen. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to will away the dread that was filling his soul.

"Hey! You're home early!"

Rolling his head in the direction of Buffy's voice, Giles saw the Slayer bounce down the stairs, an uncharacteristic smile on her flushed face. A towel was wrapped her head and she was dressed in shorts and a skimpy tank. "You're not."

She paused at the foot of the stairs, trying to figure out if he was teasing or serious. "I know. I'm sorry, I should've called, I guess... "

Giles smiled, not intending to hurt her feelings. "Angel did."

"He did?" The librarian could almost see the gears turning as she wondered how much to tell him.

"Yes. It was early, about six o'clock this morning. He said you'd been injured last night and needed the uninterrupted sleep."

The naked look of longing on Buffy's face shouted out to Giles that her hours with Angel hadn't been spent sleeping. She slowly walked down the rest of the stairs, her expression wary. "Are you angry with me?"

Giles shook his head and patted the couch beside him. "I do wish you had called earlier, because I do worry, but I don't begrudge you your... comfort. I trust he treated you well?"

Buffy sat next to him, her face flaming in embarrassment at the question. "Um, yeah. Very well."

The librarian turned pink as his own words sank in. "Oh, Buffy! I didn't mean that to sound as if I was prying! Or perverted... "

Laying her hand on his arm, the Slayer smiled. "Hey, Jeeves, it's okay. I know what you meant. Thanks for caring."

She looked so young sitting there that Giles' heart went out to her. Impulsively, he wrapped her in a bear hug, laying his cheek against hers. "You're a good girl, Buffy Summers. I'm so thankful that you've come into my life."

Buffy swallowed past the painful lump that formed in her throat. She threw herself into Giles' embrace, burying her face in the warm crook of his neck. The novelty of actually being wanted in someone's life was beginning to grow on her. From the very beginning, Giles had welcomed her with open arms, even after she had been a royal bitch to him on her first night in Sunnydale. He had placed his faith in Buffy the Slayer, then in Buffy the person, patiently waiting out her arrogance and skepticism.

Waiting for her to open her heart.

Giles was the closest thing she had to a father and she adored him with every fiber of her being.

Gently extracting himself from Buffy's arms, Giles chuckled softly. "Aren't we a pair? Sappy and sentimental, hardly befitting a Watcher and his Slayer."

"Your Council would have a cow," Buffy added, her smile lighting up her green eyes.

"Yes, well, that would probably be beneficial. Have you eaten yet?" he asked as he got up from the sofa. Buffy swung her legs up into the newly-vacated spot and stretched out. She wiggled her bare toes and frowned. Polish... it had been a long time...

"Um, yeah, I'm famished. I haven't, um, eaten since last night." She blushed again as her mind took a definitely naughty turn. Angel...

Giles suppressed a smile at the wistful sound in her voice. The child was well and truly in love. He had his concerns over her choice of lover, but it just proved the capriciousness of romance. Even he had a hard time looking at the Slayer and the vampire and not recognizing the pure perfection of their relationship.

Giles puttered in the kitchen, taking out the ingredients for homemade spaghetti sauce, Buffy's favorite. From the day Angel had laid eyes on Buffy, his feelings were displayed for all to see. Love, lust, need; all were reflected in his fathomless black eyes, which all but ate Buffy up whenever they were in a room together. It would've taken a woman a hell of a lot stronger than Buffy Summers to resist Angel.

---

Buffy went back upstairs while Giles started dinner. She pulled the towel from her head, letting her damp hair fall free. After tossing the towel over the towel rack, she walked to the closet and opened the door. Her duffel bag was stored on the top shelf and she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach it. Dragging it to the bed, she sat down and opened it.

The few belongings that she had managed to hang on to rested in the bottom. One by one, she pulled them out and arranged them on the bed.

First, a small scrapbook, given to her by her mother when she was thirteen. Carefully turning the pages, Buffy smiled as the memories of a life long gone passed her eyes. A pink announcement in the shape of a bootie heralded the arrival of Buffy Anne Summers, 6 pounds 4 ounces, on January 19, 1981. Kindergarten diploma. Newspaper clippings from her first figure skating competition. Report cards. And pictures.

Lots and lots of pictures.

Those Buffy skimmed over, the memories they evoked still causing a raw, almost physical, pain. But, when she reached the last page, she paused, staring down at the final photograph.

Christmas, 1995. One of the last photos she remembered being taken, only a couple of months before her parents were murdered.

Buffy sat on the sofa, sandwiched between her attractive parents, looking every inch the sweet, spoiled little girl she was.

A Christmas tree sparkled in the corner, throwing multicolored light on their happy faces. On her lap, she held Truffles, the chocolate Persian kitten that had been waiting for her under the tree, just one of dozens of gifts she had received that morning.

The vampires that had attacked her parents had killed Truffles too.

Buffy closed her eyes tightly, blotting out the vision of what they had done to the helpless cat.

When she opened them again, she laid aside the scrapbook, running her fingers lightly over the pink flowered cover with the stenciled logo "Buffy's Book of Dreams". Her mother had been fanciful whenever it came to her only child.

The next item she picked up was a small wooden jewelry box, pale gold wood with mother-of-pearl inlay. Hank Summers had found the pretty box on one of his business trips to Japan. He had returned late from the trip, after Buffy had already gone to bed, but was so eager to see her excitement that he woke her up to give her the gift. Buffy had squealed happily, jumping out of bed to put her jewelry in it and find the perfect place on her dresser to set it.

The box was empty now with the exception of two pair of tiny silver hoop earrings. Lovingly, Buffy closed the lid and put it aside.

"Mr. Gordo, long time, no see." A stuffed pink pig looked up at her from his perch on top of the duffel.

She continued to dig in the bag, looking for more reminders of her lost childhood.

---

Giles backed silently down the stairs, hoping that Buffy wouldn't hear him and know that he had been watching her. He pulled his glasses off and wiped a shaking hand over his face, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall.

He realized, better than most, how deep Buffy's sorrow ran, but to be confronted with the raw grief of a hurting child was almost more than he could bear. As he went back to the kitchen, hoping to lose himself in the comforting actions of cooking, he replayed the scene he had just witnessed. Buffy's fingers, trembling as they tenderly caressed each and every item spread out before her. The soft, pensive sound of her voice as she talked to the comical pink pig. The glitter of tears sliding down her cheeks.

Again, he vowed to himself to do everything in his power to make her life a secure, happy one. He couldn't bring back her parents, he couldn't change the fact that it was her destiny to fight evil, but he, along with Angel, Oz and Larry, would provide Buffy with the support system she so desperately needed.

---

"Aww, Giles, do we have to go?" Buffy whined as she twirled spaghetti around her fork. With the exception of slightly puffy eyes, she looked normal. She'd had a lot of practice at hiding her deepest emotions.

"The meetings are mandatory, Buffy, you know that."

"I know, but what good do they do? I could use that time to catch up on sleep." She smirked around her mouthful of pasta.

Giles, having already finished his plate of spaghetti, sipped red wine and watched Buffy polish off her second helping. He was pleased to see her eating more. When she had first arrived in Sunnydale, she'd practically been starving. Only later had he found out that she lived on the streets, except when Merrick made use of her, and ate sporadically.

Since coming to Sunnydale, she had put on a healthy fifteen pounds, filling out her figure and bringing her back up to a normal weight. There was no danger of her gaining any more; Buffy had a high metabolism and she got plenty of exercise fighting vampires. Not to mention, it pleased Giles to no end that she loved his cooking.

"They are fruitless, I agree, but to not go would raise unwelcome speculation. The City Council knows you are the Slayer and should they find out about your relationship with Angel... "

"I know, I know... I'd be Bad Buffy, let's run her out of town on a rail. Like they can afford to lose me. May I have some wine?"

Giles tilted his head and gave her a look. "Of course not."

"I'm eighteen."

He ignored her, smiling at her petulant look. "Besides, I think I may have found us a bigger place."

Buffy promptly forgot about her spaghetti and the wine. She bounced once in her chair, her eyes lighting up. "That's cool! Where? Is it nearby? Closer to the school? Not closer to downtown? Ewww... "

Giles laughed out loud. "Slow down! It is nearer to the school, on Revello Drive. The house has been abandoned and the city took possession. I have a friend that helped me, shall we say, acquire it."

"That sounds shady."

"Actually, it is. Several nice shade trees surround the house."

Buffy fixed him with a mock glare. "Ha ha. You are so funny. Mr. Comedian." Picking up her plate and his, she took them into the kitchen and put them on the counter. Turning on the tap, she began running hot water in the sink. "So, when do we move?"

"I thought maybe we'd go look it over after the meeting. It's nice, Buffy, you'll like it. Three bedrooms, two baths, a nice front porch with a swing."

Buffy smiled as she began to wash the dirty dishes. "Sounds homey."

Giles carried the rest of the dishes to the sink. "It is. Just the kind of house every child should grow up in."

"Well, I guess I can sit through another dull meeting if it means we have new digs. Not that I don't like this place... "

"It's too small, I know. And, it would be nice to transfer most of my books to new quarters. I don't feel safe in the library."

Buffy handed him a dry dishtowel so that he could help. "So, what's on the agenda tomorrow?"

"Big news. The biggest. The high school is closing down, a week from yesterday."

Buffy's smile faded as the implications sank in. "Oh my god."

"Indeed. If the schools go, how long will it be before the town follows?" Giles said as he dried the plates Buffy handed him.

"Giles, Henderson is only thirty miles up the coast. Santa Carla is even closer. If the vampires feel that their food supply is disappearing, how long until they infest one of those towns?"

"And, Henderson is quite large. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't moved on sooner."

"The Hellmouth. It's holding them here and as long as there's a food supply, why move?"

Giles stacked the plates in the cabinet. "It's out of the school board's hands, Buffy. The rapidly dwindling population and lack of funding has their hands tied." He tossed the dishtowel down and followed Buffy into the living room. He sat on the sofa while she paced before him nervously. "There's very little industry here any longer; the majority of people commute out of town anyway. This town is dying. In more ways than one. I personally think this was inevitable."

Buffy's shoulders slumped. "I'm only one person, Giles. While the vampires are here, I can do something, I can control their spread. If they scatter to the surrounding towns, what am I supposed to do?"

Giles' gaze softened as he stared at the distraught young woman. For all her bluster and defensiveness, she was so soft-hearted and vulnerable. "Here, sit down. We have a little while to come up with a plan. Perhaps one of the others will have an idea. In the meantime, I shall contact the Watcher's Council about it and see what they advise."

"'kay. I'd better go get some patrol in. Are you going to the library?" Buffy said as she trudged to the door.

"Ah, no. I'm staying in. Don't be out too late, the meeting starts at eight o'clock sharp," Giles warned.

"I'll be home early."

As the front door shut softly behind Buffy, Giles dropped his head wearily into his hands, feeling as if the very weight of the world sat on his shoulders.

---

--February 8, 1999, evening

Xander wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let the child fall from his grip. Nothing like young blood! The sweet taste still lingered on his tongue and he grinned in satiated pleasure. He slumped down on a couch and watched the orgy of bloodfeasting that was going on around him. Vincent and his cadre had ambushed a family of five passing through town and brought them back to the Bronze. Five wasn't much for the dozens of vampires in the building and Xander had claimed one, the youngest, for himself, but the demons were sharing with unusual generosity. Even Cordelia had managed to take some for herself, before scrabbling back out of the way.

"It's all gone. And I'm still hungry."

Willow had come over to stand behind him, one pale, slender hand resting on his shoulder. Xander gritted his teeth, still stinging over her betrayal with Scott Hope. "Yes. I know."

"Our food supply is disappearing. All the people are staying indoors, they're more vigilant." The redhead drifted around the edge of the sofa to perch one leather-clad thigh on the arm. "We're feeding off the occasional tourist and even those are far and few between. We got lucky with these humans."

"I know that, Will. Things'll change. I'm sure of it."

She was persistent, hunger making her bold. "When? Xand, you've been promising us that things would be different, that we would take this town, like the Master did, that we would feed off the Slayer! Instead, she's gradually slaughtering us all and we can't make new vam..."

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the room and a few of the demons looked up in sluggish interest. Willow sprawled on the floor, one hand pressed to her cheek, the imprint of Xander's hand emblazoned on her fair skin. "You hit me..." she whispered, unable to believe it herself. Xander had never hit her in anger. Sometimes, their sexual antics took a turn for the brutal, but that was different.

"I'm sick and tired of your bitching! I'm sick and tired of EVERYBODY'S bitching!" Xander screamed, the attention of every demon in the room now fixed on him. Cordelia giggled, a bizarre, shrill sound in the silent room.

Willow rose to her feet, her eyes blazing yellow and her fury a palpable thing. "You promised us, Xander! You said, after that cunt killed the Master, that things would change. We'd feed, we'd spread and take over this miserable little town, until the streets flowed with the blood of the humans!"

She took a step closer. "What have we gained, Xander? The humans are smart, smart enough to lock themselves in their houses at night. Smart enough to listen to that librarian when he waves his musty old books in their faces and tells them it's Armageddon. They're smart enough to move far away from Sunnydale, while our kind starves!"

The assembled vampires were murmuring amongst themselves, the tide of favor swaying towards Willow. They knew that they couldn't exist on the scraps they were able to forage, animals and the one or two humans foolish enough to be caught out after dark.

Xander shook his head, knowing she was right, but unable to admit he was wrong. "We haven't given it enough time..."

"The Slayer has been in Sunnydale since November and our numbers have fallen to less than a hundred. She and her miserable little band of vampire killers are destroying us."

"We'll plan an attack, ambush her..."

"We need to move on."

Willow's words silenced the whispers spreading through the crowd. Xander looked up at her, surprise in his dark eyes. "Move? Where? The Hellmouth is here..."

"We don't need the Hellmouth. We thrive in its power, but we don't need it!" Willow turned and faced the rapt assemblage. "We should move away from this place! Go somewhere where we can feed and increase our numbers. Someplace where we can flourish."

She smiled, seeing the interest and support from the minions. Even the ragged brunette crouched on the floor nodded, a stupid grin stretching her parched lips. "Sunnydale has given up its bounty and it's time to migrate. Santa Carla is only a mere twenty-five miles up the coast. A tourist town of several thousand."

"Doesn't Santa Carla have a vampire master?" Scott called from his vantage point in the front row.

"Not a master, no. A presence, perhaps, but we surely exceed their numbers. If we band together, fight for the common goal, we'll take them easily enough."

Xander's fury mounted at having his tenuous power stripped away so quickly. Grabbing Willow's arm, he jerked her around to face him. "You can't be serious! How are we supposed to attempt this mass migration? Twenty-five miles is too far to walk in a night's time and I don't think we'll be able to buy a bus ticket!"

"We can steal the cars we need and drive..."

"And you know how?"

Willow smirked. "How hard can it be? You get behind the wheel and push down on the pedals. It's not brain surgery."

Snickers greeted her joke, but Xander was not amused. "Stealing a car is one thing, but driving it is another. Most of us here were in high school when we were turned and I'm pretty sure we didn't make it through Driver's Ed!"

Willow laughed outright. "I can't believe that's your sole objection! Xander, we probably have two dozen or more here who have known how to drive for decades! That you could even make such a stupid argument..."

Several voices called out with affirmatives. Xander let her go, struggling to hide defeat. "I think we should stay, kill the Slayer and burn this town to the ground."

"And, still we starve."

"We could harness the power of the Hellmouth..."

Willow shook her head and gently drew one long, crimson nail over Xander's lips. "To what end? To let loose a legion of deranged demons that would only drive us crazy and still steal our food? No, Xand, I think our time has come to say goodbye."

"I want the Slayer's head. I want her blood to run through my fingers," Xander whispered.

"Then, be a man and go do it. I have a trip to plan." Willow smiled and stepped away, Scott falling in behind her, a smug expression on his face.

The other vampires drifted away, some to hunt, some to mate in shadowy corners. Xander stood where Willow had left him, vengeance burning in his dead heart.

---

A thick fog had moved in from the Pacific just after midnight, cloaking Sunnydale in an eerily glowing blanket. Buffy, patrolling in Sunny Acres Memorial Gardens, had pulled her jacket closer and swiftly left the vulnerable site. The heavy moisture in the air made her feel damp and chilled and she shivered. Shifting her crossbow to her other hand, she wondered if it wouldn't be a good idea to call it a night. The town was as silent as the grave and she had yet to see her first vamp of the evening. Nothing and no one stirred, the peculiar weather keeping even the demons in their lairs.

Walking back towards the center of town, Buffy kept her senses on alert. The fog was the perfect cover for the vampires and a perfect excuse for an ambush. Pausing at the corner of Main and Sweetwater, the Slayer looked north, towards the Bronze. Even the usual heavy bass thump of the music was missing.

Not a bad thing, but it gave the fog even more of a muffling effect. Her heartbeat sounded unusually loud in her ears and her breathing particularly harsh.

Suddenly, the haven of Angel's bed seemed overwhelmingly tempting. Buffy scowled, trying to push away all of the memories that brief thought had evoked. Now that she'd had time to consider her actions, she felt embarrassed and awkward. What in the world had she been thinking? One touch, a kiss, and she had spread her legs eagerly.

A vampire...a creature of the fucking night and I allowed, no, I begged him to take me, Buffy thought angrily. Oh, but how good it was!

"No! I won't think of that anymore!" Buffy said out loud, her voice echoing strangely in the dense fog.

"Think of what?"

Buffy yelped and turned, the crossbow swinging smoothly up to her shoulder. Angel materialized out of the mist, only inches away, his hand batting the barrel of the weapon aside. "God! Can you be any more sneaky?" Buffy hissed, her eyes flashing with anger at the close call.

The vampire smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I should've let you know I was there."

"Have you been following me?"

"Only for a half-hour or so. You're a hard little girl to find in this soup." Angel smiled and reached for her, but Buffy sidestepped and stalked past him. She regretted it a moment later, wanting nothing more than to throw herself into his embrace.

Angel sighed, puzzled over her hostility. "Kill any vamps tonight?"

"No. They're the smart ones, staying in tonight. Why aren't you holed up?"

Angel stopped in his tracks, surprised at her tone. "What's wrong? You seem...angry. Have I made you angry?"

Buffy softened, the hurt in his voice thawing her resolve. "Oh, nothing. I just...well, I'm still a little..."

"Embarrassed?"

She smiled ruefully. "And you read fortunes on the side, right?"

When he slid his arm around her waist, this time, she didn't resist. "I am, a little. I've never acted like that before. I mean, without any...inhibitions."

"You were perfect. Beautiful and warm and so very sweet," Angel murmured as he leaned down, capturing her lips in a gently savaging kiss. Buffy moaned and leaned into his arms, her mouth opening in response to the urging of his tongue.

She gave up. Tugging Angel back into a sheltered doorway, Buffy wrapped her arms around his shoulders, their bodies fitting together as if made to be so. Angel had dipped his head to her throat and traced the vein there with gentle nips, sucking on sweet mouthfuls of her flesh until the blood rose temptingly to the surface. Buffy smiled and tilted her hips forward, nestling between Angel's legs, her throbbing sex pressed flush against his hardness.

Angel pulled the crossbow from Buffy's shoulder and dropped it to the ground, then plucked at the hem of her black tanktop. Buffy raised her arms and he pulled the garment over her head and discarded it. She reached for him, but he took her wrists in his hands and held them above her head. "No...let me do it all..." he whispered against her mouth. Releasing one arm, he cupped her breast, hefting its plump weight in his palm, his thumb brushing the sensitive peak until it was pebble-hard. Buffy moaned and arched into his cool touch. Angel let go of her other wrist and sank to his knees in front of her.

Even on his knees, he was eye-level with her heaving chest. Gripping Buffy's slender waist, Angel nuzzled the underside of one flawless curve, his cold tongue sketching a path of fire along the crease between her breast and ribcage. He lavished kisses over her until he reached her aching nipple. Buffy cried out softly when he engulfed it in his mouth, his tongue and teeth pulling hard on the rigid peak. His hand came up to tweak the other nipple; she could feel the tugs he made all the way to her core.

"Angel...we...not here..." she gasped weakly, but the smoldering look that Angel gave her, around a mouthful of nipple, hushed her. He wanted her here, now, and she felt the last remnants of argument slide away.

The vampire released her long enough to latch onto her other breast, his teeth nipping sharply. Buffy smothered a shriek, a rush of wetness gathering between her thighs. Angel could smell her then and he snarled in response. Swiftly unfastening her cargo pants, he jerked them down, taking her soaked panties with them. Reaching behind her, he cupped her ass in his hands and pulled her to his hungry mouth.

Buffy pressed a trembling fist to her mouth, trying vainly to stay quiet and failing miserably. At the first touch of his tongue to her overheated flesh, she nearly lost it. She rocked forward until only her shoulder blades touched the concrete wall behind her. She rolled her head to the side and stared out at the street from behind a haze of pleasure. If, at that moment, a whole tribe of vampires had materialized from the fog, she seriously doubted she could do anything but shudder in delight at the touch of her lover.

Angel rubbed his cheek against the dark gold curls covering her treasure from him, the scent of her arousal thick in his nostrils. Using his thumbs, he parted her outer lips and slipped his tongue between the lips of her labia, searching for the source of her ecstasy. He wanted to bring her to a quick orgasm, the sooner, the better, so he could get her home and in his bed. His cock was already rampant and he wanted nothing more than to pull Buffy's legs up to his waist and push deep into her welcoming body. But, even in his Buffy-intoxicated state, he knew that to take her here would be a dangerous move, opening them both to possible attack.

Glancing up at his sweetheart, he smiled. She was completely gone, eyes tightly shut, rosy lips parted in delight. And in absolutely no condition to fight a vampire should one wander by. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Angel twirled his tongue around her clit, lightly teasing the stiffened scrap of flesh where her pleasure was centered. He was rewarded with a guttural moan and a flow of liquid that trickled down his chin. Angel pressed a single finger against her opening, feeling how swollen and ready she was for him. He pushed the digit in up to the first knuckle, thrusting shallowly, working the tight little ring.

"Ahhh, in me...push it in me..." she whispered, one hand clutched in his thick hair.

Angel obliged her, giving her one finger, then another, pushing deep into her snug channel. His tongue never ceased in its torment and finally he took pity on her, taking her clit in his mouth and sucking hard, his teeth scraping the delicate shaft.

Buffy screamed then, the sound hollow and ghostly in the mist. She bucked against his face, nearly knocking him backwards. Angel grasped her hips and slammed her back to the wall, his face buried fully in her sex, his fingers stabbing inside her. His mouth was ravaging her drenched sex, drawing her climax out until Buffy sagged against the wall.

"God...oh, god...take me home, Angel...now!"

Angel rose to his feet, towering over the shaken Slayer. He wiped her juices from his chin, then licked the nectar from his fingers. Buffy's hot gaze fell on his lips, her own tongue tracing nervously over her own. She squeaked as Angel lunged for her, his mouth attacking hers with raw hunger. If it wasn't for the fact that her ankles were hampered by her pants, she would have eagerly spread her legs for him.

She came to her senses first, tearing away from him to pull up her pants and retrieve her tanktop. Twice, she had to bat his hands away as he tried to fondle her breasts. "Stop it! Let me get dressed, then you can have me all night!"

Angel snatched up the crossbow and grabbed her arm and all but dragged her to Crawford Street.

---

The mansion was dark with the exception of a low, glowing fire in the grate. Buffy stumbled through the French doors, propelled forward by an impatient Angel. She tripped and sprawled to the floor with a grunt of pain. Before she could turn around and give him a piece of her mind, Angel had dropped to his knees behind her.

Grasping her hips tightly, Angel jerked her back against his swelling erection, a steady growl rumbling from his chest. He ground his crotch into her ass, letting her feel every inch of his need. Buffy groaned in surrender and pushed back.

Angel was desperate, burning with an animal's lust for its mate. Grabbing her tanktop in his hands, he tore the thin material from her body and tossed the scraps aside. Buffy raised up on her knees, her fingers fumbling for the zipper on her pants. She managed to get them unfastened before Angel ripped them down her thighs. He pulled the pants down to her ankles and snarled in frustration when her heavy boots prevented him from removing them.

"Don't...don't care...Angel, just do it!" Buffy cried, her own desire raging out of control.

With one knee, Angel spread her legs apart, his hand frantically unfastening his jeans. He rubbed Buffy's smooth ass with his hand, then slid it between her thighs. Her honey was dripping freely, generously coating his fingers. Guiding his cock to that sweet, hot place, he placed his hand on the back of Buffy's neck, pushing her head down to the floor. The position raised her ass higher and Angel wasted no time thrusting into her slick core.

Buffy cried out as he pushed into her with little caution. Her tender flesh was forced to accept his thick cock, stretching to engulf him. As he slid deep into her belly, she could feel every throbbing inch and she shook violently from the sheer ecstasy of it. He pulled back, almost free of her, then slammed back inside. Buffy exploded in pleasure, her tight passage squeezing him rhythmically.

"Ahh, ahh, godohgodohgodohgod...Angel...Angel, yesyesyes...!" she screamed as her orgasm rocketed through her already-pleasured body.

Angel was sliding in her with long, rough strokes, one hand going around her hips to delve into her soaked pussy. His long fingers found the hard little bump of her clit and flicked it mercilessly. Buffy shrieked and clawed at the floor, every molecule of her being focused on the singular sensation of Angel's cock filling her, his cold hands playing her body like an instrument.

Taking a handful of her long hair, which she had worn loose, Angel hauled her upwards, forcing her back against his chest, her thighs splayed apart on either side of his. He bucked up into her, the head of his cock rubbing the upper wall of her vagina, sending Buffy once more over the edge.

Buffy was reaching exhaustion and she lay back against Angel's chest, her hips rotating smoothly atop his lap. Pushing her head into the side of his neck, she licked at his cool flesh, her teeth nipping the underside of his jaw. He was in gameface, his eyes glowing with unholy light as he concentrated on their pleasure. One hand still toyed with her hypersensitive clit, while the other tugged and pinched her nipples, one after the other.

He worked her towards another climax, even as Buffy whimpered piteously. "Angel...please, honey, I can't..."

He pressed his mouth to her ear, his tongue tracing the delicate curvature. "You will if I say you will."

Once more, he bore her to the floor, she on her stomach, while he crouched between her open thighs. Taking both of her wrists in his hands, he pinned her to the floor, his hips driving into the soft flesh of her ass. Nuzzling her damp, tangled hair away from her neck, Angel took a mouthful of her flesh, just where her throat met her shoulder. He bit down, but didn't break the skin. Instead, he held her captive that way as he speeded up, pushing so hard into Buffy that she gasped for breath.

Buffy wailed, trembling beneath him as he found his release. Angel thrust so deep into her that he bumped the mouth of her womb, his cock spilling its cold essence into her warm, receptive body. Gathering her close, Angel bit down on the flesh of her throat with surprising gentleness, her blood spilling across his lips, tasting of life and passion and love. He indulged in only a mouthful before pulling away, his body still trembling with the aftershock of his climax.

Buffy lay bonelessly on the floor, sure that she'd never be able to move again. She was sore and utterly worn out from their lovemaking and she could have happily fallen asleep right there on the cold stone floor. She moaned sleepily as Angel turned her over, scooping her into his arms. "Wanna sleep..."

"Let's do it in comfort, then," Angel murmured, his eyes full of love as he gazed down at his drowsy Slayer.

---

Xander stalked the night with little purpose other than to find something alive and make it less alive. He roundly cursed the townspeople of Sunnydale, for being savvy enough to stay in their warm, cozy homes, and Willow, for being right. Again. In death, as in life, she was the smart one, the genius. In death, she had lost her girlish hesitancy, only to have it replaced with selfish impatience. Still a trait that Willow Rosenberg the human had had in abundance, only now, it was her driving motivation. What she wanted, what she needed. Her hungry belly, her sexual need.

With never a spare thought for anyone, any demon, beside herself.

Xander was beginning to hate her with a vengeance.

He paused on the corner of Crawford and 10th, the fog dissipating to a thin mist. This was well past the center of civilization for Sunnydale; very few people lived out this far. As a matter of fact, every house on Crawford was dark, abandoned, overgrown with weeds and discarded trash.

Except for the last house on the street.

Nestled into a dead-end, the old mansion loomed atop a small bluff, the limestone monolith a dim mass against a darker sky. Vines, heavy and abundant, twined over the façade. An iron gate, broken in several places from years and years of neglect, encircled the property like spectral arms.

Xander turned to leave this empty place when the distant sound of a scream echoed through the night. He paused, the fine hairs on the back of his neck raising in anticipation. He was about to dismiss it as a figment of his imagination, when he heard another.

Surprised, he realized that the sounds were not coming from the direction of town but, rather, from the mansion. Curiosity flared and drove Xander forward. The prospect of a meal, even if he had to take it from one of his brethren, enticed and called him. He was starving, always starving, and he had yet to develop a taste for the weak and tasteless animal blood that the others were forced to consume. Nor was he interested in cannibalizing his own minions in search of sustenance.

Like any other demon, he wanted his food alive and screaming in terror.

Not bothering to keep to the shadows, Xander strode down Crawford Street.

---

He circled the house three times before he found the hidden entrance into the sunken garden. Creeping on silent feet, Xander moved down the stone steps, carved right out of the side of the house. Although still uncultivated, the garden was obviously lived in. A wrought-iron table and two chairs were placed in one corner, well away from the edges of the high walls, a forgotten coffee mug sitting on the surface. Picking it up, Xander sniffed it. Not fresh, but not as old as he would've believed.

The stone patio was swept clean of dead leaves and other debris, yet more evidence that someone lived here. Looking up with feral speculation at the French doors leading into the house, he noticed the low fire burning in the fireplace, barely illuminating a spare, though tastefully decorated room.

When the third cry came to his ears, Xander realized that it wasn't screams of pain or even terror.

They were cries of rapture.

The primal sound stabbed right into Xander's gut, heat and a hunger that had nothing to do with blood spreading through his belly. His face vamped in response and he stalked towards the door.

To his shock, he passed through the doorway and into the house. No barrier impeded his progress and he tensed in caution. Vampires couldn't enter the home of a human without being invited first, which meant that this was the lair of something other than human. He moved deeper into the room, his eyes falling on the shredded remnants of something black and silky.

Reaching down, he picked it up. Unbidden, but not wholly unwelcome, the scent of feminine arousal assaulted his sensitive nose. A soft growl of lust rumbled from his chest as the deliciously heated smell triggered his baser instincts. It seemed familiar somehow, but he was unable to place the delicate bouquet of vanilla and woman.

"...ooohhh...yesss...there, right there, oh GOD!"

A woman, caught in the throes of helpless passion, her voice husky and full of yearning. Other, fainter, sounds reached his straining ears. The creak of wood, the rustle of silk, the moist sound of skin on skin.

Xander, the last of his self-preservation diminishing, stepped closer to the darkened hallway from where the soft sounds were emanating. An open doorway beckoned him, the teasing flicker of candlelight showing him the way. As silent as a mouse, he peered around the corner.

And nearly combusted from the scene before him.

The large bedroom was cast into shadow with the exception of the huge four-poster dominating the spacious chamber. A vermilion velvet quilt had slid into a puddle on the floor, joined by trailing black silk sheets. Xander slowly lifted his eyes, stunned beyond anything he had ever experienced.

Angel, Willow's escaped vampire pet, was crouched over a woman, his hard, pale body gleaming like alabaster in the glow of the candles. His hands were filled with golden female flesh, his palms cupping plump breasts, the rosy nipples peeking out from between his long fingers. His head was dipped between the woman's slender thighs, bobbing with the motion of her pleasuring. One leg, long and tanned, lifted up and over Angel's shoulder, to rest against his back. A tiny foot flexed against his bunched muscles while both of her hands were tangled in his midnight-dark hair. Soft whimpers issued from her throat.

Xander pressed himself against the wall, his eyes fastened with rapt attention on the vampire and his obviously human lover. His own erection strained against the front of his jeans, tormented by the scent of sex rippling in the air.

The woman shifted, her face tipping his direction and Xander felt his world fall from beneath him. A mass of tumbled sunshine waves fell over the black satin and her face was revealed to him, flushed and gleaming with sensuality.

The Slayer.

The Slayer!

Buffy Summers, the mousy little slut who was decimating his vampire family, was the passionate, beautiful woman screaming in Angel's arms, her hips arching against his face in wanton need.

Even as Xander was frozen in shock, Buffy was shrieking her pleasure to the room, her hands tugging at Angel's hair until the vampire took pity on her. He pulled away from her sweetness, drawing her leg down from his shoulder and pulling the other up to his waist. Sliding his hands under her ass, he plunged into her. He pushed until he was completely entrapped, sending her over the abyss yet again.

"Ohhhhangelangelangel...please...I can't take it..." she wailed, as he thrust deeper into her, pushing her higher on the bed and sending the rest of the bedclothes tumbling to the floor.

Gameface on, Angel only smiled at her piteous pleas, his hips pistoning between her thighs, his hands pulling her down onto his cock.

Xander's fingers clenched on the torn garment in his hands, all thoughts of feeding vanished from his mind. All that existed for him, was the sight of the Slayer being thoroughly ravished by the vampire Angel.

And when Angel cried out Buffy's name and pulled her into his arms as his own orgasm spilled forth, Xander slumped against the wall, unable to tear his eyes from the erotic picture.

The couple, still intimately entwined, whispered to each other in breathless, loving voices. Xander pushed himself back upright, his thoughts whirling madly. Wait until Willow hears this! She'll fucking go insane!

With a last look at Angel and the Slayer, Xander stuffed the torn shirt into his pocket and fled into the night, bound for his lair and the comfort of a vampire bitch, missing the figure that stepped out from the shadow of a nearby tree. Richard Merrick watched the vampire run off into the fog, then turned back to the partially-open window of what he had discovered was a bedroom. Even now, his whoring cunt of a Slayer was screaming her unholy pleasure to the world, as her lover took her yet again with demonic endurance.

Fury transformed his face into a psychotic mask. He had been following Buffy for several days, attempting to get her alone, but she was rarely, if ever, by herself. If that British twit of a Watcher wasn't hanging around her, one of those two young bastards from the school were.

Only tonight had he been able to find her patrolling solo and as he had prepared to confront her and hopefully force her to see things from his point of view, she had been approached by a tall, handsome man. Merrick had known almost immediately that the creature was undead and he waited impatiently for Buffy to destroy it and continue on her way.

Except, it hadn't happened quite like he thought it would. To his shock and distaste, she had fallen willingly into its arms and he watched as they stumbled into a darkened doorway. The vampire had dropped worshipfully to its knees before the little Slayer and proceeded to jerk her pants down to her combat-booted ankles and eat her out. The treacherous slut had pushed her crotch right against its face and dug her hands into its dark hair, her muffled cries echoing in the fog.

It was all Merrick could do to keep from rushing across the street, destroy the beast who dared to touch what was his, and reclaim the panting girl as his own again. Instead, he had watched with sickened fascination, recalling her taste, how she felt against his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He remembered the music of her screams of pain as he forced the teenager into obscene positions and acts that left her a quivering mess of tears and bruises.

He hated Buffy Summers, yet he was enslaved by his hunger for her and he'd be damned if some fucking undead monster was going to take what was his.

He'd kill her himself before he let that happen.

 

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