Track B in Track A

His hands continued to caress her, molding her breasts, tweaking her nipples. Angel moved her so that her heat, still that erotic, addicting heat of hers, lay directly over his erection. Bringing her down, he smirked against her neck as she cried out. Pleasure, need, want, was caught in that one breathless cry. His name, whispered on the wind. Her arms wound around him, holding him closer as if she could – and would – pull herself into him. 

Again, a soft cry of his name, pleading, begging. He knew what she wanted and slowed his drinking to give it to her. Him, she wanted him. She wanted to feel the ecstasy that being with him provided, she wanted the completion. His hands, slippery now with the blood that sluggishly came from her wound, opened her pants, slipped inside to her heat. 

Like moth to flame, he was unable to resist. But then that’s how it always was with them. Angel was helpless to resist Elizabeth no matter the dissimilarities between her and Buffy. He was attracted to her strength, he craved her weakness. He wanted her to depend on him just as he wanted her to fight him with everything in her. 

Licking the wound on her neck, he pulled back just long enough to whisper, “You’re never leaving me again.” 

She said nothing, nothing as his hands manipulated her body, nothing as his hands brought her to the pinnacle of pleasure, nothing but his name. Worship, agreement. His name as she fell over that pinnacle and into the soft sea of bliss. 

Elizabeth’s heart slowed, slowed, as Angel continued to drink her magickal, healing, blood. Her body slowed, dying in his arms, but she never released him from her embrace. 

Some small part of his mind, of his awakened demon, noticed that Dru and Spike arrived, stood guard, watched over the lovers. Angel made no move to acknowledge them. They’d guard their Master, their elder; ensuring that no harm came to either Angel or Elizabeth. And then, when Angel finished turning his Mate, they’d see the pair of them back to the mansion.

“Love,” He whispered into her ear, hands holding her so gently to him. “Elizabeth, look at me, darling.” He waited, waited as she seemed to come back from the brink, from the death that called to her, that she wanted to embrace. With slumberous eyes, she did just that, using the last of her strength to meet his golden gaze. 

“Drink, lover,” his voice was quiet, mesmerizing. Sensuous. “Drink from me that we shall always be.” 

She lacked the strength to nod, but her eyes changed. Shone with the love she felt for him, the passion. The need never to let him go. His hand moved to his own neck, nails extending into claws and he punctured his artery. Elizabeth lapped gently at the wound, drinking the potent blood of her lover, her Sire. Her Mate. She drank until she collapsed into his arms, drank until she could take no more. 

Weakened, Angel lifted her into his arms, glancing at his curious Childer. They said nothing, Spike was totally flabbergasted that Angel had actually turned Elizabeth. Turned her. It was incomprehensible to him, but there it was. 

Angel merely nodded once at them. Turning, he started back towards the mansion. Towards their future. 

“Bloody hell, peaches,” Spike muttered to his GrandSire as Angel stumbled again. “Let me carry the Slayer.” Angel was weak, stumbling through the park on his way to the mansion. He was no good in this condition to either himself and Elizabeth, or his Family. Cursing himself, Spike wondered why he hadn’t driven. But then this was Sunnydale. No one really drove in this town. There wasn’t enough of it to matter. 

Angel’s response was a growl, his fangs flashing bloody in the moonlight, his eyes losing none of their feral glow. He’d almost lost Elizabeth, he wasn’t about to turn her over to anyone so soon after Turning her. After keeping her by his side forever. He wasn’t going to let Spike, or anyone else, near her; not now, maybe not anytime soon. If ever. 

Closing his eyes once, Spike wondered when he remembered his etiquette. Opening them just as quickly, he tilted his head to the side. “Look,” he said again and wanted to cringe from the words that were about to leave his mouth. “You’re weak, unable to defend your Mate. Drink from me.” Spike almost choked on the words.

Angel stared at him as if he’d never seen Spike before, but remained quiet. Spike couldn’t blame him, this wasn’t like him but then it certainly wasn’t like Angel to turn the bloody slayer! 

“Oh bloody hell, you pansy. You just Turned the Slayer for God’s sake. Just drink already.”

Spike waited as Angel looked at him, testing, weighing the younger vampire’s words. Finally, he nodded in acceptance, shifted Elizabeth closer in his arms, and motioned Spike to him. Unceremoniously, Angel sank his fangs into Spike, taking long draughts from the well-fed vampire. Spike shuddered once, the feel of Angel’s fangs in his neck overcoming all animosity between the two since Angel deserted his family over a hundred years ago. 

This was what he’d hoped for a couple of years ago when Angelus returned. This was what he wanted when Angel had lost that pesky soul and reverted to his demon. This was what he’d missed, what he needed in those long hundred years. Bliss. Acceptance. Arousal. 

Angel released him and Spike stumbled, but Dru was there to hold him upright. Her face had that special almost spacey look, the one that said she was especially happy with the way things were turning out and with the situation right at the moment. Well bully for her, he’d just broken a cardinal rule of his: ‘Never allow Angel close to him again’. Now that he had, now that Angel had just drank from him, now what? 

Following Angel and the Slayer back to the mansion, Spike couldn’t help but wonder…what happened now?
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B 

Angelus’ hand pressed against Buffy’s wound, stemming the flow as best as he could. He didn’t want her losing too much blood through her stomach when he was Turning her. His mouth caressed her neck, drinking her down as if he could take her into his body just as he did her blood. 

Buffy shuddered in his arms, her body knowing his as intimately as his hands, caressing her curves through the heavy dress, knew hers. His name was a moan on the air, soft and sure, pleading. Loving. Her arms twined around his neck, holding him close as Angelus’ mouth loved her the way his hands did. His hands, slippery with her blood, moved lower to caress her body, bringing her to the pinnacle of pleasure as he so easily did. 

Her head lolled back, his name a sigh on her parted lips. 

“Buffy,” Angelus said in a low voice, forcing her attention back to him, away from the death she seemed to…reach for. She wanted death…why? Didn’t matter, in death, she was his. In death, Buffy was with him forever. In death, nothing could separate them. 

“Lover, look at me.” When she did, when she opened those large green eyes, heavy with lust and love, Angelus pressed his lips, her blood tangy and warm still to hers. “Drink, my love, drink from me that we shall always be.” 

She lacked the strength to nod, but her eyes changed. Shone brightly with the love she felt for him, the passion. The need never to let him go. His hand moved to his own neck, nails extending into claws and he punctured his artery. Buffy lapped gently at the wound, drinking the potent blood of her lover, her Sire. Her Mate. She drank until she collapsed into his arms, drank until she could take no more. 

Weakened, Angelus lifted her into his arms, glancing at his curious Childer. They said nothing, and he merely nodded once at them. Turning, he started back towards their home. Towards their future. 

William brought up the rear, keeping an eye out for danger, both human and otherwise. When Angelus stumbled against a filthy wall, slick with grime and unmentionables even William didn’t want to know, the younger vampire made a quick decision. He stood in front of…not his Sire, but the man he thought of as such. 

“Angelus,” William said in an almost reverent voice. “You’re weak, Sire, unable to defend your Mate. Drink from me. I freely offer myself to you, my Sire and Master,” William paused, waited, and added, “Let my blood, from the blood of your favorite Childe, strengthen you now.”

Angelus paused, his fangs gleaming in the pale moonlight of the dark London streets. His face hadn’t reverted to his human features and that worried William. Not that anyone would notice, none of them cared about that, but the growl that still emanated from the elder…. So far as William knew, that hadn’t ever happened before. 

Nodding once, Angelus shifted Buffy’s body closer to him, holding her tightly to his still chest. William moved closer to him, tilting his head to the side to allow Angelus to drink. And drink he did, taking large draughts from the freshly fed vampire. The growl deepened but William didn’t think that had anything to do with his feeding, more like the feeling of strength surging back into his body. 

“William,” Angelus said, his golden eyes locking with the younger vampire’s bright blue ones. 

William nodded, stumbling back in weakness, falling against the filthy wall. Drusilla was there to catch him, smiling that beatific smile that made him think things were about to get interesting. 

Angelus entered the townhouse, going directly to their room, not caring what Drusilla and William did. He had to make his Mate comfortable, had to…prepare. Prepare for the future, prepare for the world they were going to conquer. Prepare for the beautiful, his beautifully evil, Queen who was going to rise in a matter of days. 

Together, this world would bow to them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

With a startled gasp, Elizabeth opened her eyes. 

She sat up but didn’t remember what happened, didn’t remember how she came to be back in the bed she shared with Angel, how she…she couldn’t breathe. No, no she could, but it didn’t matter, because, oh, Christ, she couldn’t feel her heartbeat. 

It all came rushing back in a blink of an eye – Angel, death, turning. Her willingness to do just that. A slow smile spread across her face, sensuous and sinister. Her eyes, darkening in the candlelight, scanned the room for her Mate. Angel sat beside her in a single chair placed near the bed. He answered her with an equally sensuous and sinister smile and leaned forward. 

He didn’t get out of the chair, didn’t do more than lean forward, arms on his legs, still clad in the bloody clothing he was wearing when he found her. Elizabeth could smell the blood, could smell the tangy-stale scent of it, the life giving need she could feel crawling in her, an ache in her bones, a need deep within her. She wanted it, she wanted…him. She wanted it all, actually. 

“Hello, lover,” Angel said with that same satisfied smile, his dark eyes hungry and watching, devouring her as she lay in their bed, naked. She smiled back, stretching her naked body along the smooth silk of the bedding, allowing the feel of the expensive linens to flow and dip over her body. It felt heavenly. Her skin, extra sensitive, tingled with the feel of the sheet against her. 

“Well,” she said in a throaty voice, her body coiled to spring. Spring across the distance separating them. She couldn’t bear to be away from Angel, couldn’t bear the distance between her and her lover. Her Mate. “This is new.” 

Angel stood then, slow and smooth, a graceful movement that belied the beast within him. Or maybe it accentuated it, highlighting the demon’s need, his predatory movements, graceful death. He held out a hand to her, and without hesitation, she took it, gliding out of the bed to stand before him. 

Naked, proud, glorious. 

Angel’s hands ran down her body, gently, lightly, over her arms, fingertips across her breasts, smirking at her shiver of need. Her belly, the dip of her hip, to the cool moistness that called to him. That begged for him, that enticed him, that captured him. His. 

“Angel,” Elizabeth whispered, her hands moving up to touch his face. She had a lot of questions, so many, too many. She wanted to know how he felt about this, wanted to tell him how she felt about it – grateful, forever. She wanted to know what happened next, what they did now. 

Elizabeth asked none of those questions; however, she didn’t ask him what happened to everyone, what they did now, where they went. No, instead she tilted her head towards his, shimmering green eyes telling him everything he needed to know. With a small sound – acceptance, love, need, it didn’t matter – she brought her lips to his, soft, cool. The kiss was slow, deep and needy, exploring the changes, the similarities. 

Slowly, the kiss changed, broke, their eyes locked, hard green to deep unfathomable brown. “I’m hungry, baby” Elizabeth purred and kissed him again. Pulling back slightly, she sank her fangs into Angel’s soft lower lip, drawing a small well of blood. Licking it off, her golden eyes locked with his flashing ones, she sighed in contentment. 

“More,” she whispered, kissing him hard and fast. Smiling against his lips at the growl of need – for her for the hunt for blood – that rumbled through Angel’s chest. 

“Let’s go hunting then, beloved,” Angel said and went to find her suitable clothing.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A  

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Cordelia whispered to Wesley. It was just the two of them in the mansion’s sun lit courtyard. Except the sun was quickly setting, and their small sanctuary wasn’t going to last for much longer. 

“You mean the fact that you had an unstoppable vision about Elizabeth dying and Angel Turning her? You mean the fact that Angel brought a bloody Elizabeth back with Spike and Dru stumbling in their wake and no one’s seen anyone but Spike in the last three days?” Wesley looked at her with a wry twist to his mouth. Things were definitely not looking up for them.

“Well,” Cordelia nodded, “Yeah. Plus, we’ve lied to everyone else for the last three days. I know Willow suspects something, and Tara’s been by more than Willow. Anya wants to know what’s going on and I don’t know how secret-worthy she is. This secret isn’t going to last for much longer.” 

“Tell me again,” Wes asked as he absently cleaned his glasses, “Why we’re keeping this a secret?”

Personally, he’d have liked nothing better than to run as far from Sunnydale as he could in the three days since watching Angel return with a dead – and Turned – Elizabeth. Frankly, he thought he’d get pretty far. But Cordelia wouldn’t hear of it, though he didn't know why. But she insisted that there were ways they could help. The curse for one. And Angel hadn’t lost his soul, so maybe it was possible for them to still redeem him. 

Wesley didn’t believe any of it, but couldn’t find the words to burst Cordelia’s little denial bubble. She wasn’t screeching at him because he had, and he thought that a very good thing. 

“Cordelia,” a soft voice said from the stairs leading into the rapidly fading sunlight. Tara and Anya came into view, both looking scared and worried and just a little bit hassled. Anya looked annoyed as well, but that was something Cordelia had come to expect from the ex-vengeance demon. But it was that last emotion clear on Tara’s face that concerned Cordelia the most.

“Tara, Anya,” Cordelia said with false cheerfulness. “It’s good to see you both.” Silence. “What are you doing here?” More silence. 

“I was worried,” Tara admitted. “Everyone is. They don’t know what happened, but want to check on Elizabeth and Angel. Mr. Giles said something about making sure that everything was as it should be.” 

“Did Angel Turn her?” Anya demanded in the wake of Tara’s gentleness.

Cordelia gave a small hysterical laugh and quickly clamped her lips tightly closed. Frantically, she looked to Wesley, but he wasn’t fairing much better. Their silent conversation wasn’t lost on either Tara or Anya. Tara took another step forward and for a moment, Cordelia was blinded. She wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t a vision, but for a moment, all she could see was the sunlight glinting off Tara’s dark blonde hair, making her skin translucent. 

What the hell was that?

“Tell me?” Tara was asking and Cordelia forced the bizarreness away. She wasn’t sure what that was all about, but she wasn’t going to say anything. Mostly because she had no idea what to say. And they had other problems to worry about. Glancing at Anya, she noted that the other woman was looking at Cordelia oddly, as if wondering what it was Cordelia saw. 

“Uh…”Cordelia looked to Wesley again as if he had all the answers. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cordelia,” he huffed. “I most certainly do not have all the answers.” 

“What are the questions?” The question was delivered in a smooth voice, as low and opulent as a temptation from Satan himself. 

“Angel,” Cordelia said in that same false cheery voice she’d greeted Tara and Anya with. She smiled brightly, a smile that dimmed when she realized two things. Elizabeth – dead and Turned Elizabeth – was with him. And the sun had set. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she finished, backing a step away. Okay, so he scared her. There was precedent for that, after all. 

Cocking an eyebrow at her, Angel said nothing to that. Instead, he turned to Wesley and then Tara and Anya, waiting with the utter stillness of the graceful predator he so resembled. Watching with those all encompassing eyes. Wesley swallowed but tried for…coherency. 

“Tara was just saying that the others – Willow and Giles – were asking after you.” Truth, that was the truth. He should have run when he’d had the chance. 

“Oh?” One syllable, again delivered in that silky voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Wesley saw both Tara and Cordelia shiver. Anya looked intrigued, as if she already knew all this. 

“Ah, yes. Well,” he continued, desperately hoping that they weren’t too late. “Since you haven’t been round in a few days, they wanted to make sure…all was…well.” He finished in a lame attempt to seem not terrified. 

“You Turned her,” Anya stated as if this didn’t surprise her. And it probably didn’t, not much could after eleven hundred years of living. “Does she have her soul? Do you?” 

“What makes you ask that, Anya?” Angel asked in that same smoothly delivered voice. 

“There was a rumor that a vampire in Russia tried to Turn a Slayer a few hundred years ago. I never heard if it worked or not, but it was said that she retained her soul.” Her eyes bore into Elizabeth. “Did you?” 

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. “Not…entirely,” she admitted and then realized that was true. She didn’t have her soul, not in the sense that she wanted to run right out and do good. But she didn’t want to pillage and destroy, either. She didn’t know why that was, but she didn’t care, either. 

“Relax, Wes,” Angel said, his arm wrapped tightly around Elizabeth. She purred something to him, her eyes glowing an odd green as they lighted on the foursome. “You’ve noting to worry about.” 

With that, he and Elizabeth left the mansion, moving quickly, quietly, all sinuous grace and deadly intent. Spike and Dru were immediately behind them, the couple unnoticed by the humans until then. With caught breaths, they waited until the two couples were out of sight, off…hunting. 

“Oh, God,” Cordelia whispered, shaking now in the pale moonlight. “We’re alive.” 

“Yes,” Wesley agreed as he swallowed past the ball of terror lodged in his throat. He wasn’t sure for how much longer that would be a fact, however. 

“I told you,” Anya insisted as she sat on the stone bench near the doors. “That he was as obsessed with her as ever. No one ever listens to me.” 

“Okay,” Tara said, her voice shaking, eyes trained on her friend’s now invisible back. “Can you please explain the past five minutes? And,” her eyes followed the path the…vampires, all four of them, had just taken. “And why no one told me that Angel had Turned Elizabeth?”
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

Willow looked at Xander but said nothing. 

She had a feeling – a sinking feeling that twisted in her – that something horrible had happened. To Elizabeth, to Buffy, Willow wasn’t sure, but she knew it did. Or maybe it was nothing, maybe it was just the echo of that strange scream that had awoken her. Maybe it was life on the Hellmouth catching up with her. Maybe it was Tara’s absence. 

Hell, maybe she’d been reading too much and nothing happened. 

Except Willow knew it wasn’t that. 

No, something happened. What, she didn’t know, but she was scared, concerned, and blasé all at once. Frankly, Willow wasn’t sure how she managed to have so many conflicting emotions all at once, but then she long ago stopped analyzing her feelings. She barely understood herself and maybe that was the problem. But now wasn’t the time to delve into the psychology of Willow Rosenberg. 

She flipped through the book again, the latest spell book from Giles’ shelves. It was already thoroughly combed for anything that could switch souls, bring Buffy back to her and return Elizabeth to her proper palace. But that wasn’t what Willow was searching for. Not anymore. 

Willow was looking for a spell that could bring a solitary traveler to another world and then return with two souls. She was looking for a way to go to Elizabeth’s world, the one where Buffy now resided, and bring Buffy back. There was no way in hell she was letting her best friend stay in a place she didn’t want to be in with people she didn’t know and a life here that needed living. 

No matter what Anya said. Actually, Riley didn’t listen to Anya, either, but then Willow hadn’t seen the former soldier in some time. Just as well, she was tired of lying to him. Hell, she was just tired of him. He was oafish when he didn’t get his way, and he was turning into the biggest dork, always trying to prove that he was just as good at patrolling as Angel. As Buffy. 

But then he’d never managed to truly understand that for Buffy to accurately do her job, she needed to be the fastest, the strongest, the alpha. Riley was intimidated by that and Willow wondered why she hadn’t seen that before. No matter, he was insignificant. 

As was anyone else who stood in her way. 

Willow was going to bring Buffy back to her if it was the last thing she did. Giles, Xander, Anya, Riley, none of them were going to get in her way. And to hell with Cordelia and Wesley, they knew nothing, lived hours away and never really knew Buffy, anyway. 

Tara was a different story, and Willow burned with jealously at the thought of her lover, hers, spending so much time with Elizabeth. She hated that Tara liked Elizabeth but not Buffy. Okay, okay, Tara and Buffy never really had much of a chance to bond, but so not the point. 

Angel was a problem. Willow knew he loved Buffy. And now, she knew he loved Elizabeth. He was a problem and the only one the redhead considered a true threat. 

It wasn’t going to stop her. Buffy was going to come back here if Willow had to get her herself. And that was just what she was going to do. Somehow.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B  

Buffy tracked her prey silently, unmoving. Waiting as they turned the corner, waiting as they lost themselves in the crowd, waiting as they emerged on the other side. Watching as they tried to find the eyes that bored into the back of them. Watching as they couldn’t find her. She was the ultimate hunter, stalking those who would stalk humans. Those who moved as silently and effortlessly as the night. 

She was better. 

Leaping in a fluid motion that blurred in the night, a flash of color and a whisper of sound, silk rustling through the air, Buffy landed directly behind the human couple. They turned then, feeling something, a basic human survival instinct finally rearing it’s long ignored head. They turned, startled, but unprepared. 

“Hello,” she said in a low voice, husky with hunger – for blood and for her Mate. 

“Ah, yes?” The man asked, wondering why such a beautiful woman would make his skin crawl. Why being bare steps from a woman he could easily take, made him feel small and insignificant, as if his life were in danger. 

“I’m in need of your assistance,” Buffy purred and smirked slightly when the man shivered, his eyes dilated in need and fear. His woman wasn’t faring much better, her eyes locked on Buffy’s. Buffy’s smile widened.

“Yes?” The man asked and Buffy knew that whatever she wanted, he’d have been more than happy to give to her. 

“I need you,” she said in that low voice of hers, taking another step forward. The man nodded, willing to do anything just so Buffy would continue to speak to him. He’d give her anything, everything. And he was going to. 

Without warning, Buffy crossed the bare steps between them, face shifting, hands reaching out to grab the man’s collar, pulling him down to her mouth. Her fangs, hungry for the feel of smooth skin breaking, of hot blood coating them, sank easily into his neck. His companion screamed then, shock and terror mingling in the brief sound. 

But this was Whitehall and no one paid much attention to the aborted shout of a woman. It happened all the time and would continue to far into the future. But the woman’s cries were not cut short from anything Buffy did. No, Angelus was there, watching, waiting for his moment. Pleased with his Mate, hard from watching her hunt, bait, and trap the couple. He needed her, needed her more than he needed blood. 

Quickly draining the woman, he tossed her into the alleyway Buffy had exited from, eyeing his lover as she carefully drained her first kill. Her first, he all but purred over that. He listened as the man’s heart slowed, stilled, pumped once more as if unwilling to give up just yet. Buffy dropped him, allowing him to finish dying on the filthy ground. 

Turning to Angelus, blood still on her lips, eyes still gleaming golden, Buffy launched herself into his arms, clearing the feet between them in one move that Angelus admired for its strength and fluidity. But then she was in his arms, her mouth on his, her legs wrapping around him, her body molding to his. And nothing else mattered. 

“Angelus,” she purred, nipping at his lips. “Need you.” 

Without verbally replying, Angelus backed into the alley, his lips never leaving hers, his hands roaming under her skirts, finding her moist coolness, flicking fingers against her. Kissing her harder when she shuddered in his arms. Her nimble fingers worked the laces on his breeches, freeing his hardness, caressing him with soft cool hands. 

Moaning into her mouth, he removed his fingers and settled her onto him. Waiting for a moment, a moment where he reveled in her, in her change, in her body. In her need and love, Angelus began moving, Buffy’s inner walls encasing him in tightness, in heaven. If he believed in such a place, then Angelus had found it here, in her arms. In her body and unconditional love. 

She still loved him, even after waking sans soul. That hadn’t changed as he thought it would, as he wondered. But then if he, the Scourge of Europe, could fall in love with a Slayer, then said Slayer could love her vampire with and without her soul. Buffy shuddered in his arms, once twice, her fangs dipping to his neck, an automatic move of need. 

He’d never really allowed anyone to taste him, occasionally Darla and he would exchange blood, but that was in the midst of sex and only small quantities at that. When he turned a Childe, they of course tasted his blood, but his few Childer learned early on to hunt and kill, fending for themselves within a year of Turning. 

When Buffy’s mouth closed over the wound she’d drank from several days prior, when her body clenched around him, when her mouth suckled at his neck, Angelus’ eyes rolled back and he came, hard and pumping, into Buffy’s all too willing body. 

His own fangs extended, sinking into the Mark he’d made weeks ago, tasting her blood, still magickal, still potent, and now hot with her recent feeding. And his. All his.

“Baby,” he whispered, drawing away. 

Buffy looked at him with slumberous eyes, heavy with desire and sated from feeding. Her smile was slow, wicked, primal in its passion and Angelus felt himself growing hard within her. 

“What do you have planned, my Angelus?” She asked long moments later as he still held her against him, the shadows of the unlit alley masking them from both predator and prey alike. William and Drusilla were hunting close by, staying close to Angelus and Buffy in case they were needed. In case, they could join in. 

“Everything, lover,” he promised. “I have everything planned.” Lowering her to the ground, knowing the first hunger that gnaws at the newly risen, and that the man wasn’t nearly enough to sate it completely, Angelus straightened her clothes before fixing himself. 

“Let’s finish our hunt, Buffy,” his voice was soft and tender, an underlying hint of raw need and a flash of primal possession in his eyes. “And I’ll tell you how I’m going to give you the world.”

Part 23        Part 25

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