Disclaimer ... "Buffy The Vampire Slayer" does not belong to me, but to Joss Whedon, Warner, Fox and others. This is non profit making fan fiction.
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Part Two
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Sleeping now, exhausted, Buffy seemed to be at peace. Angel gazed at her face, envious of that tranquillity and captivated by her loveliness. There was a change in her, he could feel it. The last of her childhood had died in that dank cavern, at the Master's hands.
Angel felt a growl rise in his throat at the thought of the Master; his mouth and hands itching to inflict violence. But not on Buffy - never her. Instead, he closed his eyes and touched his lips to Buffy's pale cheek.
Slowly so as not to wake his sleeping beauty, Angel eased her out of his lap and onto the mattress, placing her legs carefully and reaching down for her shoes. Such small feet - she was a tiny creature and looked so frail. But in truth Buffy was strong.
The same change that had stolen her youthful carefree spirit had given her power, strength, courage - the energies which he could feel coursing through her veins still in flux, but settling. Angel wondered a little apprehensively what she would be like when her transformation was complete. Would Buffy, the Slayer who was bound by her sacred duty to put a stake through his heart, still find it within herself to care about him?
Well if he was to die then it should be at her hands - he would grant no other human the right to destroy him. Angel kissed her forehead, and listened for a few seconds to her breathing - warm air tickled his cheek. So good and pure. Her chest rose and fell in time with those breaths - shapely and lovely and no doubt soft. Angel sighed, recognizing the extent of his longing. To be with somebody who loved him in spite of what he was - that would be the ultimate joy. His body demanded, his will refused. The will was stronger.
Just as once before, Angel settled himself for the night at her side, on the floor, comforting himself with a pillow when it was Buffy that he longed to embrace. He wondered what it would feel like to sleep in her arms, as close as, closer than when they had danced at the Bronze.
Imagining, listening attentively to Buffy's every breath, Angel waited the night out by her side.
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