Habitual Habits

“Well we then went to a coffee shop, but ended up drinking some soda. Ooh! And did you know that Oz thinks that Latin is VERY cool?”

Casually walking down the hall Buffy was intently listening to Willow’s tale of her first “post-Xander-doesn’t-love-me-and-although-he’s-stupid-for-it-I-forgive-him-date.” Nodding she warmly replied, “That’s because he’s VERY cool.”

With a big grin she stated, “Yep. It’s official: Oz est cool.”

Stopping at her locker Buffy quickly spun the combination for her lock, opened the sturdy metal door, and shoved her books in. Stretching to reach her gym bag she looked over her shoulder and meaningfully asked, “So?”

A light blush dusted Willow’s fair skin. “Umm…so.” Softly stammering she found the notebook in her hand fascinating. “So is just such a big step. I mean it’s SO.”

Setting the bag on the floor Buffy impishly grinned and said, “But I think it’s time for So.” Cutting Willow off from denial she cheekily emphasized, “You two have been spending a lot of time together. First it’s research, then it’s Bronzing, now it’s Latin. Face it Will: it is so time for So.”

A very flustered redhead was saved from replying by mentioning, “Hey don’t forget we have a test in history tomorrow.”

Good naturedly groaning Buffy reopened her locker and pulled said text out along with its accompanying notebook. “What is that about? I mean we just got back from a break. Who does that?” Frowning deeply she stared off and muttered, “Only a teacher who lives on the Hellmouth. Doesn’t the evil here have no boundaries?”

Keeping their conversation off the delicate subject of “So” Willow curiously asked, “How did you do on the last test?” Sensitive that Buffy’s grades weren’t the greatest she clarified her question with, “Did you pass it?”

Spinning the dial on the closed locker she nodded her head and bent down to pick up the black gym bag.

A wide smile brightened her face as Willow enthusiastically cried, “That’s great Buffy!”

Wanting to share her grade but suddenly feeling shy she simply murmured, “Thanks,” and stood up. Walking down the hall towards the library in companionable silence she found that readjusting to school life was going smoother than she expected, in spite of the night before.

Unaware of the soft smile playing about the corners of her mouth Buffy felt the sensuous slide of gold and sapphires against her bare skin. Although she had only owned them for a few days she already took comfort in their presence. Through his gift Angelus was with her, the precious jewels an extension of his intoxicating and private caress. Private. Theirs was a relationship resting on secrecy and cover. Just like her chains.

No one knew they were there and they wouldn’t.

Before leaving for school Buffy took special care with her exercise clothes by making sure she traded the form fitting Lycra with an ordinary cotton shirt and shorts. It was another thing she had to be on the lookout for, but it was one burden she didn’t mind at all.

Pushing open the library doors she was immediately met by, “Buffy! Willow! What took you so long?”

“Huh? What do you mean Cordelia? It’s only,” looking up at the wall clock she stated, “3:40.”

“Yeah! And school let out twenty minutes ago.” Crossing her arms with a barely concealed huff she tapped her foot impatiently and crossly complained, “And we’ve been waiting here since 3:22.”

Lifting his arms in a stretch Xander comfortably laced them behind his head and added, “You know I don’t mind the wait,” immediately earning a scowl from his girlfriend. Hastily he added, “But Cordy here really has to make it to the mall by 4:00.” Seeing that she still was not appeased he quickly said, “Because she has to buy so many pretty things to match her pretty face.” If anything the brunette girl’s frown deepened.

Knowing he was in a hole he had no hope of climbing out of, Xander valiantly kept reaching. Leaning closer to her he laid his hand on her cold shoulder. “Not that she needs those things, because she’s so pretty without them. No not pretty. Beautiful. Yes, beautiful. My girlfriend Cordelia Chase is beautiful.” Looking down he heavily sighed and pitifully ended with, “Yep. She’s a hottie.”

Buffy set her bag on the front counter and dryly pointed out, “As nice as it is to have your cheerful presence here Cordelia, if you have more important things to do…”

Rolling her eyes she snorted and exclaimed, “Well, duh! Of course I have more important things to do than hang out in a badly decorated place filled with moldy books, but I’m here because of a higher calling.”

“Like what? To teach us that patience is a virtue?” Willow’s mutter was barely discernable above the muffled tapping of the brunette’s heel, but Buffy heard it clearly. Her good humor was instantly restored. The irritation with Cordelia vanished as she was reminded of the times Angelus had used those words on her. A gentle smile tugged her lips again and her gaze softened with love. I wonder if I got his nerves as badly as she’s gotten on mine. I hope not because then I’d REALLY deserve his spiel.

“What’s your deal?”

The shrill voice unpleasantly cut through Buffy’s fond memories, bringing her back into the present. Feeling the edges of annoyance curl up again she arched her brow and snapped, “What?”

Shaking off Xander’s hand Cordelia stood up and came around the table. Crossing her arms she accused, “You’ve got the goofy ‘I’m so in love’ look.” A sincere note of censure colored her voice as she asked in disbelief, “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about Angel and moved on?”

Buffy’s face blanched at the raw truth of those words. While she hadn’t forgotten Angel at all, in truth she had moved on to someone else. Angelus.

Joining his girlfriend Xander quietly said, “That was completely uncalled for Cordelia.”

Not bothering to look at him she huffily replied, “Was not.”

Moving to stand in front of her he waited until he had her disgruntled attention. In an uncharacteristically hard voice Xander repeated, “That was COMPLETELY uncalled for Cordelia. You’ve done some bitchy things before, but this goes beyond the limits.” Ignoring her gasp of outrage he continued, “What Buffy feels for Angel isn’t as shallow as going to the mall on the slow days, going to Starbucks two towns over, or sitting in the back of a movie so you can get out before anyone sees you.”

Looking over his shoulder he caught Buffy’s surprised stare and firmly finished with, “I may have had my own issues with their relationship, but one thing I know now is that she loves him. What she feels for him hasn’t changed just because a monster has taken over. If anything it’s stronger because of what she’s going to have to do.”

Ignoring their captive audience Cordelia swallowed a few times before softly saying, “Xander…I can’t believe you…”

Turning back to her he stated, “It’s true.” A shimmer of hurt shined in unusually serious eyes, wordlessly communicating the alternate message given in defense of his friend. “So I think you should apologize. Now.”

A mutinous expression crossed her pretty face before it slid away. Taking a deep breath she quietly murmured, “I’m sorry. Xander’s right---it really was a beyond bitch to say that. We all know that you wouldn’t move on. I’m sorry.”

Pasting a gracious smile on her face Buffy forced her throat to unlock and say, “It’s okay.” Grabbing her bag she casually tossed out, “I’ve got to go change before Giles comes out. I’ll be back.” Not waiting for any answer she nonchalantly strolled towards the back of the library, forcing the useless tears in her eyes to recede. I haven’t forgotten him. I haven’t. It’s just that I love the other one too. Just because I love both, doesn’t mean that I love Angel less, does it?

Unconsciously her hearing sharpened, the voices of her friends coming to her with crystal clarity.

“Xander’s right Cordelia: how could you even think that Buffy would ever forget Angel?” While Willow’s voice was barely louder than her normal tone, the censure lacing each word was loud and clear.

“Look I already apologized! I don’t need you coming down on me either.”

Not finished with her upbraiding she shot back with, “But God, why would you even say that?”

Cordelia’s voice dropped and became sullen. “I don’t know. Maybe because she had this look on her face.”

Buffy could imagine Willow’s frown as she asked, “A look? She deserved your nastiness because of a look?”

Spirit returned to Cordelia’s voice as she hotly defended herself. “It wasn’t JUST a look. It was the kind of look that you get when you think no one sees you.” A moment of silence met Buffy’s ears before she heard, “It’s the kind of look a girl gets when she thinks about the guy she loves. The kind that she might not show him or anyone else because she’s scared the world won’t understand.”

Swallowing thickly Buffy leaned up against the wall, distantly shocked at the shallow girl’s perceptiveness. Forcing her ears to close off their sensitivity she efficiently stripped off her clothes, refusing to look at the pagan jewels boldly proclaiming their ownership. As if knowing her intent, the gold links silkily slid about her waist and thigh, tinkling with reproach.

Quickly slipping on the gym clothes she refused to think about it, refused to think about how close Cordelia hit with her remarks. This is where I’m at now. I’ll never be able to explain to them about us. If they could even get past betrayal, they wouldn’t understand how I could love them both. Tying back her hair Buffy’s eyes took on a hard gleam. It’s too late to go back now. I started this for one reason, but I’m going to let it go on for another. Let them think what they need to; in the end it’s best for all of us. Let them think I’m the person they’ve created. They never need to know the truth.

Shoving her feet into her shoes Buffy swiftly laced them and was ready to join the group. Striding in with a bounce to her step she ignored the tense silence, only bothering to say, “It’s over guys. Let’s move on. If we have to group hug, then fine, but there’s more important stuff going on here than mall love versus real love.”

“Buffy!” Taking note of her clothing Giles approvingly murmured, “I’m glad you’re, umm, ready to train. Of course you do realize we will be increasing the intensity of your workout.” Oblivious to the heavy silence in the room the Watcher briskly came around the librarian desk, arms laden with several texts.

Absently looking down at one particular tome the unnatural stillness seemed to finally dawn on him. Flicking his eyes upward Giles cleared his throat and asked, “Ah…is there something here I missed?”

Without giving anyone else a chance to confirm or deny Buffy merely shrugged her shoulders and replied, “Normal teenage angst.”

“Umm…well good then.” Setting his heavy load down the Watcher briskly cleared his throat and murmured, “It seems that a progress report is in order here.” Including all fresh, four faces in his intent scan he noticed their missing member. “Where’s Oz?”

Willow immediately piped up with, “Oh he’s out with the Dingoes and so he’s going to be late today.” Proudly she explained, “He’s hosting a ground-breaking meeting about how practice can actually improve talent.”

Nodding his head Giles mumbled, “Fascinating.” Clapping his hands once he came forward and announced, “I have good news.”

Raising his hands in the air Xander shouted, “Finally!” Instantly stilling in his joy he cocked an eyebrow and suspiciously asked, “Good news is good news, right? There’s not a Hellmouthian-twist, is there? Like good news being a plague versus Armageddon?”

Crossing her arms Cordelia sagely nodded and put in, “Good point.”

Flashing a lopsided grin her boyfriend said in appreciation, “Thanks Cordy,” and earned a small, but warm smile from said girl. The light in her dark eyes admitted to hoping he understood that she would support him, even if she couldn’t come through on other fronts yet.

Rubbing his chin Giles glanced at his Slayer, gauging her reaction to the banter being relayed. The suppressed excitement he expected was absent, only a polite smile curving her lips indicated she was paying attention. “Actually, my news still fits the universal definition.” Pausing for dramatic effect he held in his breath and exhaled, “Buffy has grown as a Slayer.”

The jubilation he anticipated was virtually non-existent. Even Willow, the one person he could count on for joy factor, merely stared at him perplexed.

Finally Xander broke the silence. “Gee there Giles, when you said good I expected something…more…well, MORE.”

Frowning in true consternation he asked, “What do you mean? This is fantastic news.”

“Yeah, but I mean if she’s grown, it can’t be more than an inch.”

Sighing in exasperation the Watcher exclaimed, “I don’t mean in size! I mean in physical strength and mobility!”

“Oh! Oh…well, yeah, that’s an awesome goody,” Willow cheerfully stated, dutifully bringing the J-Factor.

Narrowing her eyes Cordelia intently stared at Buffy, her gaze thoroughly roving across the girl’s form top to bottom. Turning towards Giles she commented, “As much as I wish I could say her thighs have gotten clunky with muscle, I don’t see it.”

“Gee thanks Cordelia. You’re always an inspiration for the fit,” the Slayer sarcastically quipped.

Without missing a beat she shot back with, “Anytime.”

Chuckling Xander included everyone in his gaze and said, “Hey I knew that.” Not hearing anything in return he qualified his statement with, “I knew Giles didn’t literally mean size.”

Turning to Buffy Willow curiously asked, “Did you know about this Buffy?”

For some time. Shaking her head she convincingly replied, “Not really. I didn’t know until Giles pointed it out last week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything on the phone?”

Shrugging she smiled and explained, “I don’t know. It just would’ve seemed like bragging. ‘Oh Willow, you know how I’m already like the Chosen One? Well guess what? I’ve gotten stronger too. So how are you doing in P.E.?’

Sagely nodding her head she murmured, “Yeah, I get your point.”

“Seriously guys---I knew what he meant.”

Relieving Xander of his embarrassment Buffy smiled and wryly said, “I know. You were just joking right?”

“YES! Joking, yes!” Grinning at the other three Xander triumphantly crowed, “See she gets it!”

“Either that or she pities you. Dumb ass,” Cordelia dryly commented, earning a disgruntled frown from her boyfriend.

“Yes, well, on to other news.” Once again pausing he seemed at a loss for how to put the next big bit of information into words. Sensing the importance of his thoughts the others leaned forward imperceptibly, their eyes trained on the Watcher’s every movement. “I’m afraid I don’t know quite how to put this except bluntly.” Again silence followed his softly spoken statement, this time putting the others on distinct edge.

“Giles, this is starting to seem like the opposite of good news,” Buffy tactfully supplied, valiantly trying to ignore the tension settling in her stomach. What is keeping him from talking?

Shaken from his private ruminations he shook his head once, took a deep breath, and stated: “Acrymydion is no longer a threat.” Silently he expected for another repeat performance from before and was instead met with a cacophony of shrill questions.

“Oh my God! I wish Oz was here! Are you sure?”

“Now this is good news! This is still within the definitions of good news, right?”

“The prophecy was bogus? I knew it. I just knew it! C’mon I know she’s the Slayer, but don’t demons have anything ELSE to do besides ‘Grrr…kill Buffy’?”

Steadily staring into her Watcher’s eyes Buffy swallowed several times, refusing to let her tears flow. ‘Can it really be over this quickly?’ Her one softly spoken question deftly cut through the noise, effectively silencing everyone. “How do you know?”

Coming forward Giles answered, “Because Ms. Calendar and I found a loophole.”

“Loophole? I didn’t know prophecies had those,” Willow curiously supplied.

Turning towards the young redhead he replied, “They all do. It’s just a matter of finding out how.”

Listening in growing amazement Buffy slowly asked, “And you two found it?”

Nodding in restrained excitement Giles said, “We did.”

A small smile curved her lips, the sparkle in her hazel eyes changed from astonishment to suppressed euphoria. “And because of the loophole I’m out?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

Placing his hands on her shoulders the Watcher gently squeezed, the joy in his heart effortlessly flowing into his charge. “Absolutely.”

Gazing at the happy faces surrounding her Buffy suddenly let out a whoop of exhilaration. Immediately three pairs of arms enfolded the tiny blonde, nearly crushing her with happiness.

Standing back and watching the teenagers’ display of triumphant elation Giles felt his eyes moisten. The decision to without his information until now was the right one. There was no way he could’ve told them Acrymydion was neutralized only to have the Council come back with regretful apologies.

Pulling away from the crowd of females Xander called out, “Giles! Why didn’t tell us this first?”

Seeing four pairs of curious eyes focus on him he cleared his throat and stammered, “Well, umm, it just would’ve, umm, seemed…anti-climatic.”

Nodding his head the boy replied, “Gotcha,” and returned back to the amiable love-fest.

Turning to her Watcher with arms around her friends Buffy breathlessly asked, “Did I do something to void this baddie out?”

An image of his correspondence flashed in Giles’ mind:

Immediately smiling in his awkward fashion the Watcher merely replied, “Not necessarily. Acrymydion was going to be called to correct an imbalance. With the offending imbalance gone, the prophecy was no longer in effect.”

“And that’s it?” Broadly smiling Willow gleefully exclaimed, “Now if the rest of the Hellmouth was this easy, it wouldn’t be a Hellmouth anymore!”

“True enough!” was the chorus that greeted the hacker’s observation.

Watching his Slayer’s exuberant face Giles noted that he hadn’t seen this amount of joy since Angel. She deserves this, especially after losing him. The sound of her unfettered brought a pained thud to his chest. Thank God we found a way to keep her safe, even if she didn’t know it at the time.

Briskly rubbing his hands together the Watcher drew everyone’s attention again. “Alright children Buffy and I need to move on to my first piece of good news. Training.”

Reluctantly breaking off their hugs everyone took several laughing breaths, while more than one pair of damp eyes were wiped. “Yeah, well it’s about 4 o’clock so Cordy and I have a date with her father’s credit card.”

“If you didn’t have Slayer stuff to do I’d stick around, but since you do---I think a post-good-news shopping spree is a wonderful way to celebrate.”

“Speaking of parties, why don’t we get together tonight at the Bronze?”

“No objections here Will. How about 8:30?” Playfully frowning Buffy added, “That is if Giles will be done with me.”

Seeing her expectant face the Watcher cleared his throat and stated, “Oh of course. Although I don’t see why you’d rather celebrate at the Bronze rather than explore your newfound skills through training.”

A slew of comically horrified faces turned toward him, shocked that he would be so blasé. A wry smile played about his stoic British face for a second before he cried, “Just joking!”

The fates were on our side Buffy. You staying at home that night and having no contact with any of us kept you safe. Our gift to you was ignorance and through it you made the correct choice.

Maybe one day he’d tell her of how staying home that one night had, in essence, lengthened her existence as a Slayer. Maybe.

“Giles! You DO have a sense of humor!” Slapping the older man on the shoulder Xander leaned closer and mentioned, “Now all you have to do is drop the ties and man---you’re in.”

Pulling her boyfriend by the arm Cordelia muttered, “Don’t give him false hope, sweetie. That would just be cruel.”

Gaping at the couple the dignified Watcher exclaimed, “I will have you know that I am standing right here!”

“Of course you are Giles.” And with those parting words Cordelia ushered Xander out of the library with only one destination in sight: Sunnydale Mall.

Looking at the still-swinging doors he muttered, “I’ll have them know that my apparel is quite up to snuff.” Turning to his Slayer Giles held his tie up and asked, “Buffy there isn’t anything wrong with my ties, is there?”

Giving a pained smile she briefly glanced at the model in his hand before shaking her head emphatically. “Absolutely not! I mean, c’mon…any Watcher would give his, umm…Watcher-thingie to have one.” Glancing over her shoulder she widened her smile and murmured, “Right Willow?”

“Huh? Oh yeah! I mean, c’mon.”

Studying their bright and earnest faces for a few seconds he finally murmured, “Hmm. I suppose you both are quite right. I’m not sure how I could have doubted it.” Elegantly tilting his head Giles quietly said, “Thank you.”

In unison both girls quickly answered, “You’re welcome.”

Arching his brow slightly the Watcher silently thought, Now that sounded a little too forced. Could my ties really be that appalling? Looking down at the sturdy silk blend in his hand he shook his head. Of course not! That child Cordelia obviously has me flustered for no reason at all. Besides, she may have a small amount of wealth, but that hardly qualifies her for good taste.

Appeased by his thoughts Giles smoothed his beloved tie down before clapping his hands lightly. “Alright Buffy---enough dawdling. If we are to cover the necessary disciplines, we must begin now.”

Looking over at her friend said dawdler raised her brows and mouthed, “Dawdling? Me?” Quickly turning her attention back to her Watcher Buffy smartly saluted, clicked her heels, and barked, “Dawdling ends now, Sir! I’m ready for discipline in the most extreme manner, Sir!”

Giggling at the blonde’s antics Willow raised her hand and asked, “Is it okay if I dawdle here while you train? Sir?”

Crossing his arms Giles shook his head and mumbled without heat, “What is this generation coming to? First it’s my method of delivering news, then it’s my ties, and now my vocabulary.”

With playful meekness the pretty redhead repeated, “Sir?”

Waving his hand in exasperation the older man sighed and answered, “Of course Willow. Dawdle away if you wish.” Walking towards to the small pile of books he carried in earlier, Giles politely requested, “If you would have a seat here Buffy.”

Jerking her head back slightly the bewildered Slayer sputtered, “W-What?” I’m a little freaked about this now that it’s here, but what’s up with starting off with sitting down? I’d rather he make me kick a book off the top shelf.

Pulling the chair out he dryly explained, “A wooden seat is made for sitting. You are to sit on it. See? Perfectly easy.”

Twisting her mouth in a frown Buffy complained, “I know how to seat in a chair. But I thought you said ‘be ready to increase the intensity of your training?’ Uh, Giles sitting in a chair is not increasing my workout. Now if you want me to break that chair with one finger, then okay.” Hopefully raising her eyes she asked, “Do you want me to?” Please don’t let it be book stuff. Please don’t let it be book stuff.

His thinly compressed lips twitched a little bit, admitting to the humor his Slayer inspired the more time they spent together. “Perhaps another day.”

Shit! It’s going to be book stuff. “Whoa. Another day.” Narrowing her hazel eyes in suspicion Buffy softly asked, “Are you trying to say that I’m going to be in that chair all day today?”

Clearing his throat Giles answered, “Not all day.”

Thank you Jesus! It’s not all going to be book stuff! Smiling in relief she was about to give a shout of thanks before abruptly freezing.

“You’ll just be there until our session is over. And then you can, umm, go Bronzing as it were.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Taking in a deep breath she cautiously asked, “What about bathroom breaks?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Settling down at the table with a textbook in hand Willow sympathetically murmured, “Oh poor Buffy.”

“Poor Buffy is right!” Pouting adorably she turned her childishly pure eyes towards her Watcher and wheedled, “You can’t possibly be serious about me sitting still in one spot. I’ve been sitting still ALL day. It’s cruel!” Seeing Giles was not being swayed she quickly broke in with, “And I’m a girl. Girls have to…GO…more than boys do.”

Cheeks flushing lightly he cleared his throat before murmuring, “I understand that girls, ah, bathroom habits are plagued by, umm, frequency, but that is beyond the point. Part of your discipline begins with blocking out baser needs such as your overactive bladder.”

“My bladder is not overactive! It’s just---normal.” Crossing her arms stubbornly she argued, “And I can block out stuff---when it’s necessary.”

Gently leading his recalcitrant Slayer to the debated chair Giles stated, “Of course it is and of course you do. However, now is the time to hone your sharpened skills.”

Sitting down with a huff Buffy muttered, “Sure. Next time I’m in a fight with a pack of bloodthirsty vampires I can just say, ‘Hey guys! Let’s grab a bunch of chairs and whoever can sit still the longest wins!’”

“It won’t be so bad Buffy. See I’ll sit here with you as long as it takes. And even if I have to, you know, GO, I’ll just ignore it. And if I start imagining the sound of rushing water I’ll just hum.” Breaking into a jangle of notes Willow put on her sweetest and most helpful face and proudly announced, “See? Humming here keeps it all there.”

Pitifully sighing the tiny Slayer, the most sacred known warrior in the world, was truly defeated…by a loathsome chair. “Alright Giles. Let’s begin disciplining.” I don’t know how well I’ll do, but I’ve got to try.

“That’s the spirit Buffy!”

Looking up she caught a pair of supporting faces, one holding up her thumb as encouragement, and the other shoving a book under her nose.

“Now I know the ancient Summarian language isn’t your forte, but their spiritual philosophy is quite pertinent to your new state. Ah, Willow if you could help Buffy with certain passages that would be quite helpful.”

“Oh, sure.” Scooting her chair closer Willow couldn’t mask the scholarly glee in her eyes at the opportunity of handling such knowledge. Seeing the look of dread on her friend’s face she soothingly murmured, “It’s not that hard Buffy. What you really want to make sure is---”

Did they forget who they’re talking to? “Uh, excuse me. Willow. Giles.” Waiting until she had their full, undivided attention Buffy suddenly wailed, “Since when is any of these dead languages my forte! I can barely hold English together and you just want me to read this!” Looking down at the faded script she accusingly pointed to a section and forcefully cried, “This isn’t even a letter!”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose Giles murmured, “Well of course it isn’t a letter.”

Throwing her hands in the air the Slayer exclaimed, “What is it with you and ‘of course?’ Of course it isn’t a letter! It’s squiggly shapes thrown together in a book to make me feel totally inept!”

“Buffy---” She’s scared. All this time I assumed she was throwing one of her little tantrums, ones not meant to be taken seriously, but it wasn’t the case at all. She’s scared of failing.

“No Giles…it’s just that I don’t KNOW how to do this stuff. All I know is how to fight in my back-assward, unconventional Buffy way. I don’t know how to read the ancient writings. I don’t know any other language than English and a few French and Spanish words. I don’t know karate, aikido, jujitsu, or any of that stuff.” Her shoulders slumped a bit as she softly admitted, “I don’t know if my improvement as a Slayer really matters because I don’t know how to do anything like that. If I can’t do that, then how am I ever going to learn what you’re going to teach me?” And it’s not like my super-Slayer skills are even pure. I got them letting a vampire suck the life out of me.

Feeling a hand on her arm Buffy turned to meet the concerned eyes of her friend. “Just because you don’t know, doesn’t mean you can’t learn.”

Drawing little circles on the table with her index finger she quietly murmured, “Maybe, but you know I’m not that smart. All I’ve got is a witty quip or two and killer shoes.”

“That’s not true!” Leaning closer Willow stated in a strong, clear voice: “Buffy if it wasn’t for you we would’ve all died by now. This town would’ve gone to Hell by now. But it hasn’t. You know why?”

Taken aback by Willow’s passion, Buffy could only sit there transfixed, surreally hearing her life being presented through the eyes of someone else. I never knew she could be so…compelling.

Not waiting to hear an answer Willow plowed forward. “You say all you know how to do is fight, but fighting isn’t enough. Anybody can go out there and fight, but it doesn’t mean anything if a person’s reasons are in the wrong place. That’s where you’re different. You bring not only your heart---but also your mind. My God! You’re only 17, but you have a strategic skill that most generals today don’t have at 67. Anyone capable of learning how to foil the plans of the Master, countless vampires, including a Slayer-Killer like Spike, is more than smart enough to learn how to read ancient texts, speak fluently in any language, and master the accepted martial arts.” Coming down Willow moderated her voice into the one they were used to hearing. “Okay?”

Swallowing thickly Buffy nodded her head once and whispered, “Okay.” Thank you for helping me. I’m not supposed to be scared. But I am. Thanks for making me feel better.

Giles stared at the young, redheaded girl with newfound respect. He knew he could’ve never articulated his words in that manner. His surprise over the whole exchange left him feeling humble and thankful that Willow had stayed behind. Although she was generally shy and timid, the voice that had spoken to Buffy was not that of an unsure teenager, but of an honorable woman with convictions. Clearing his throat the Watcher quietly admitted, “I could not have said it better Willow. You are absolutely correct.”

Shifting his attention to his young charge he saw her shoulders straighten and her chin lift slightly. “I’m sorry Giles. I was being a big baby.”

Taken aback once again the Watcher mumbled, “No need to apologize.” Taking off his glasses he rubbed the bridge of his nose and softly said, “In fact it is I who should be apologizing to you. In all my excitement of your new developments, I completely disregarded how it could make you feel---good and bad. I’m sorry Buffy.”

Brightly smiling she said, “It’s okay! I think I just got a little weirded out with the whole Summarian thing.”

“All right then. Let’s start over.” Settling down in a chair on the other side of his Slayer Giles began his lesson. “For now I just want you to listen. Afterwards, we’ll discuss what you gathered from the text.” Receiving a nod he cleared his throat once more and began reading. “Life does not just begin with the first breath out of the womb. Death does not just end with the body. They are separate and yet entwined…”

*****

Outside beneath the dappled sunshine a young woman quietly sat with her back against a tree. Off in the distance a group of boys where running back and forth across a verdant field, jockeying to prove their supremacy over a small black and white ball. To the casual and not-so-casual observer it appeared that she was merely watching the Sunnydale Men’s Soccer team, perhaps to catch a glimpse of her secret crush.

If this crush walked by and noticed her, he would see that her ebony hair was pulled up in a high ponytail with several plump curls left to trail down her neck and frame her exotic face. He would see her stretched out leg tapping to the music undoubtedly being played within her headphones, while her hands were busy with a handheld gaming system. If he looked closely he would see her rose-red mouth moving slightly, obviously singing softly to the silent music.

Maybe he’d even approach her.

But if he were wise, he’d keep walking.

Viewing the small screen in her hand Cynthia watched while the Watcher patiently read to his charge, occasionally stressing a passage of extreme importance. She had witnessed the entire episode from beginning to end, just as she had been watching them even before she ever set foot at Sunnydale High.

Several hours passed, and although the days were becoming longer, dusk eventually approached. She had needed to move, not wanting to draw too much unnecessary attention, if possible. Luckily for her one of the last basketball games was being played that night, so her presence was barely noted. Except for one time.

“Hey is that a Game Boy?”

Covertly shading the screen she barely looked up and politely answered, “Yeah it is.”

“Can I play?”

Shaking her head Cynthia feigned a look of severe concentration and feverishly moved her thumbs. “Sorry. I’m on a roll to beat my high score.”

“Oh I totally understand.”

I bet you do. Eventually the group at the library table stood, their session obviously over. She had been subjected to a length of squeaky humming off and on, but other than that her observations were quite insightful.

Standing up she casually made her way to the student parking lot, amidst a throng of departing teenagers. Easily walking through the crowd Cynthia kept her headphones on, and slipped the handheld instrument into her coat pocket. Training her gaze ahead she continued to listen and study the parting words between the Watcher, Buffy, and Willow.

High pitched. “Goodnight Giles!”

“Goodnight girls. Ah Buffy. You did quite well today. I’m, umm, proud of your concentration.” Heavy pause. “I assume patrol tonight after your celebration?”

Immediate. “As always.”

Concerned. “Well then. Ah, be safe.”

Flippant. “Will do.”

Door opening and closing.

Excited. “Alright Bronze at 8:30 tonight. I’ll call Xander to make sure he and Cordelia make it.”

Cordial. “Eight-thirty it is. What about Oz?”

Affectionate. “He’s going to be there tonight already to put practice into action.”

Shared laughter. “I can’t wait to see it.” Heavy pause. “Oh and Willow? Thanks for this afternoon.”

Embarrassed. “Oh! Umm, you’re welcome. I was just wanted to be, you know, supportive and nurturing.”

Appreciative. “Well you were.”

Heavy pause. Hesitant. “Huh, Buffy?”

Curious. “Yes?”

Uncomfortable. “How are you doing with Angel?”

Emotionless. “What do you mean?”

Rushed. “Not have you staked him yet, but how are you dealing with his…” Small pause. “Loss?”

Pain. “Okay. I guess.” Long pause. “It’s just hard.”

Sympathetic. “Oh Buffy, I’m so sorry it turned out this way.”

Hurt. “Me too.” Short pause. “When Cordelia said what she said today…I just…I felt so terrible. Maybe I am forgetting about him. I don’t want to. It’s just that---”

Understanding. “You’re just trying to hold it together the best you can. Because of who you are you can’t just lock yourself in a room and eat chocolate-chip ice cream until you explode, like the rest of us. You have to get up each day and face what it gives you.” Gentle pause. “I know you’ll never forget him Buffy. I’ll never forget him. But you’re doing what you have to, just to survive.”

Barely-there guilt. “Willow…I wish I could tell you what’s happening on the inside. I wish I could, but I…”

More understanding. “I know. I didn’t get it before, but I do now.” Muffled fabric sliding. “Whenever you need to talk Buffy, I’ll be here for you. Until then just know we stand behind you.”

Confession. “Willow! I-I…I have something to tell you.”

Curiosity. “What?”

Long, heavy pause. “Umm.” Heavy pause. “I…you’re the best friend I could ever hope for. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that.”

Silence.

“Willow?”

Muffled tears. True confession. “I…Buffy…until you I thought that I just couldn’t ever be friends with girls. I thought that there was something wrong with me and that Xander would be all I ever had.” Shaky breath. “I was okay with that. I didn’t feel sorry for myself, I just accepted it. Then you came…and suddenly I realized what I had been missing.” Quavering voice. “If it weren’t for you I’d continue to think there was something wrong with, even if only subconsciously.” Stronger voice. “Now I believe in myself. Even if I’m never friends with another girl, I know now that I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Humbleness. “Willow. You have no idea what those words mean to me.”

Several seconds of teary silence. Shaky laughter. “Okay, we better go or Giles will come out of his office and suggest more discipline.”

Horrified whisper. “No thanks! I could barely hold my pee in.”

Uncomfortable pause. “Speaking of, I gotta go.”

Assent. “Me too!”

Fading footsteps. Silence.

Reaching her small beige import Cynthia scanned the area and saw it was clean, inside and out. Slipping in she immediately locked the doors and turned on the engine. Looking over her shoulder she slowly reversed, keeping careful watch of the milling students, and eased her way forward. Slowly driving through the parking lot she waited in the long line exiting the school, before eventually driving away.

Scanning the roadway she kept an eye for any type of trouble that might befall an unsuspecting pedestrian. Thankfully the streets were empty except for people in moving vehicles. Soon she pulled into the parking garage of a small, but old building. Noticing her neighbors were already home Cynthia again scanned the area, looking for those who might do harm to a young woman alone. Once more the space was clean.

Casually walking to a metal doorway leading upstairs she punched in her key code. Hearing the buzz of acceptance she made her way up the flight of brightly lit stairs before reaching the landing. The old firehouse converted into four apartments was quiet even though the hour wasn’t late. Making quick work of checking the mail Cynthia tossed the home remodeling coupons into the conveniently placed garbage can and kept the pizza ones and electricity bill.

Soundlessly making her way up the stairs she made a note to herself to give the Richardsons the blanket she made for their newborn baby girl. Pausing at Edna Kane’s door she slipped the coupons under the door, knowing her neighbor lived off the stuff and could never use enough specials.

Unlocking her sturdy red door Cynthia paused at the threshold, intently listening for anything that shouldn’t be there. Slipping a hand into her pocket she fingered the metal stake within and carefully pushed open the door. The small apartment was empty. Aware of the hallway space behind her she left the system armed, pulled out her handheld monitor, and performed a scan. Not only were there no disturbances during her absence, but also there were no forms within, living or otherwise.

Shutting the door quietly she locked it and lowered the system level intensity. Setting her keys down on a side table she turned on the lights before walking into the kitchen. Opening up a cabinet door Cynthia pulled out small yellow container before striding towards the small, illuminated fish tank. Seeing her little friends were happily gliding through the water she uncapped the lid and gave the cheery plastic a couple of firm shakes. Watching the fish dart to the surface with greedy gulps she gently smiled and turned away.

Kicking off her shoes she felt the stirrings of hunger and eyed the refrigerator with longing. Later. Business first. Pulling the cell phone off her waistband she flipped it open and punched in a series of numbers. A woman’s cheery, American voice answered, “Thank you for calling Southland Industry Customer Service. Ailene speaking, how can I help you?”

“I’d like to commend your company on a product I recently purchased. In fact, I’d like to give a testimonial.”

“Oh we’re always happy to hear it. Item number please?”

“JSX-17-8243-MIR-29.”

“JSX-17-8243-MIR-29. Oh, I see here that there’s been a modification to that serial number in our database. Can you give me the store location you bought your product from?”

“Sunnydale, California.”

“And the 10 digit store sequence?”

“3XT91M4CER.”

“Alright and your name is?”

“Karen Blaylock.”

“Wonderful. I’ll transfer you to our testimonial department.”

Sitting down in a comfortable, overstuffed chair Cynthia propped her feet up on the matching ottoman. The soft sounds of lite radio filtered in her ear for a few moments before a carefully modulated voice spoke in a Southern accent. “Karen Blaylock?”

“Call me Cynthia.”

“Line is secure.” The American accent disappeared to be replaced by a crisp, cultured British one. “What do you have to report?”

Crossing her small feet at the ankles she efficiently answered, “Subject A received the news along with Subjects E through G. Subject H was absent and confirmed due to extracurricular activities. Subject B maintained protocol. At 4:03 Subjects A, B, and E settled in to begin training. Subjects F and G left premises at 3:58 and proceeded to Location 10. Training was suspended from 4:05 until 4:11. It immediately resumed at 4:12 and lasted until 7:20. Subject A, B, and E spoke for 51 seconds before Subject B departed for the office. Subject A and E proceeded to speak from 7:22 until 7:31. Immediately afterwards both left. However, Subjects A, E through H will be gathering at Location 4 at approximately 8:30 tonight. A full transcript has already been sent to facility.”

“Excellent.” A small pause passed before the voice asked, “What are your assessments?”

Watching the small three fish gracefully glide about their aquarium Cynthia clinically answered, “Subject A is emotionally fragile. The subject’s guilt over the association with Subject C weighs heavily in the subject’s mind, especially when Subject C’s previous demeanor is mentioned. At 7:26 Subject A almost confessed to Subject E about the continued involvement with Subject C.”

“Did Subject E suspect?”

Replaying the voices in her mind Cynthia knew Willow had no idea concerning the importance of what Buffy almost let out. “No.”

“Are the other subjects aware of A’s condition?”

“No. They only see what they expect.”

“What was Subject A’s disposition towards the new curriculum?”

Remembering Buffy’s words Cynthia squashed down the seed of sympathy growing within. If she took her duty more seriously, she wouldn’t have to feel the way she does. “Subject A displayed guilt, insecurity and fear.”

“How so?”

“Guilt because of subject's alterations have come from Subject C. Insecurity because Subject A feels the lack of not having a thorough understanding of relevant material. And lastly, Fear of personal failure.”

"Was the guilt noticable?"

"No. The subjects did not pick up on it."

“Very well. And how was Subject B in regards to the matter?”

“Subject B faltered with encouragement. Subject E displayed worthy behavior.”

“I suspected as much.” Shifting the topic towards the beginning the voice asked, “And how did Subject B deliver the package?”

Leaning her head back Cynthia tiredly closed her eyes yet her voice remained as calm and impassive as before. “Subject B performed with much relief and excitement. The subject’s discretion remained intact, as previous transcripts and reports prove.”

“I see.” Another pause echoed across the line before the man emotionlessly queried, “Do you foresee Subject B as being a risk?”

I hold a man’s life in my hands. One word and he’ll be eliminated. Opening her eyes she stared at the high, cream-colored ceiling. “No. Although Subject B is uncommonly attached to Subject A, Subject B will not jeopardize protocol.”

“Are you sure?”

Shifting her gaze she watched the playful, darting fish again. “You’re welcome to run the data’s analysis with necessary parties.”

A tiny pause passed before she heard a detached, “It has already been done.”

Cynthia didn’t have to ask the results. They were the same as hers. That wasn’t very well done of you Asheburne. Tsk. Tsk. Allowing your own petty dislike to cloud your judgment. Bad Watcher. “Can I impart anything else with you?”

“No. Continue as you were.”

The line abruptly went dead. Closing the phone with a smart “click” she returned it back to her waist and stood up. Raising her hands in the air she stretched and yawned loudly. Dropping her arms she gave into her belly’s rumbling and walked back into the kitchen. Pulling out a container of rice she briskly dumped a cup into the cooker, poured water, placed the necessary lid, and started it with a neat flip of a switch. I love this thing. It sure beats cooking it in a pan.

Lightly humming she pulled out a casserole dish from the refrigerator. Inside were several fat pieces of raw chicken sitting amidst sliced green peppers, tomatoes, and onions with a hint of cilantro to liven the mix. Sliding the contents into a large pan Cynthia easily went through the steps of cooking a fresh Spanish-style dish.

To an outsider looking in, she seemed content with the delightful aroma her skill was producing. And she was. However, her thoughts couldn’t help but stray to another woman, one who taught her how to let poultry sit with vegetables all day in order to enhance the final flavor. “Mama.”

The outsider would never see the pain that one whispered word caused, or the dark memories that sprang to unwanted life. Watching her turn away from the stove to wash her hands, a stranger would never think to look past the beautiful face to peer into ebony eyes hiding pain behind them. If the outsider were even permitted to venture into her abode, he would see warmly painted rust walls and gently used furnishings and think how it was a surprising contrast compared to her stark black wardrobe.

If he were curious enough to walk throughout the apartment the stranger would stop and admire the bright prints tastefully scattered on varying walls. He would poke his head into the bathroom and see it was clean and cheerful with the crisp white shower curtain and architectural tin tiles hung above the towel rack.

If the outsider were bold enough to walk into the last room at the end he would see a cozy space with beautiful taupe glazed walls. If he were inquisitive enough he would see a bed topped with a lovely rose comforter, two purposely mismatched end tables, and one distressed dresser. If the stranger were observant enough, he might wonder what a pretty pink baby’s blanket was doing neatly folded in the midst of this grown-up room.

However, what the nosy outsider would completely miss was that despite the appearance of warmth the entire apartment lacked any evidence to who lived there. There were no photos displayed on any space. There was no personal memorabilia. There was nothing to indicate who the beautiful, dark-haired girl in the kitchen was.

There was only one tiny, faded, and cracked album tucked away in a hollow space within the sturdy dresser. It was nothing more than a handful of pictures, torn in a few places and not even that new.

But if the outsider were disrespectful enough to have found it---she would’ve immediately killed him on the spot.

However, he had no intention of ending his life in such a way. So after another thirty minutes passed, enough time for her to finish cooking, he made his way to the door and knocked.

Automatically stiffening Cynthia commanded her limbs to relax and gracefully uncoiled herself from the small garden table serving as a dining room one. Checking the visual display she widened her eyes in surprise at who was on the other side of the door. This is unexpected. Composing her expression into easy charm she opened the door and murmured, “Well isn’t this a surprise Simon…Smith is it now?”

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, making his artic blue eyes sparkle beautifully. “Cynthia, I hope you’ve had a good evening.”

Never changing her façade she answered, “It’s been divine.”

“Good to hear.” Keeping his hands down by his sides he inclined his blond head and asked, “May I come in?”

“If I say no?”

“Then I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Except for the times that I’m not here, isn’t that correct?”

His smile widened, showcasing strong white teeth with only the tiniest hint of fangs. “You are as clever as I always thought you were.”

“And you’re still a charmer.” Inviting him with a sweeping arm Cynthia waited until she closed the door behind her handsome guest. Taking his tawny wool coat in hand she hung it alongside hers on a wall rack. Indicating for him to sit at the table she solicitously inquired, “Would you like a drink?”

Elegantly seating his long frame on the tiny seat Simon politely answered, “Yes please.”

“I don’t carry vodka, but I do have orange juice.”

Folding his hands on the table he acknowledged her reference to his appreciation of that particular drink. “That will be fine, thank you.”

Returning with juice in hand Cynthia easily set it in front of the large vampire before placing a heavy plate and fork along as well. Silently spooning a small portion of rice she murmured, “Excuse the amount, but I didn’t expect to entertain company tonight.”

“No apologies needed. I would’ve called, but you’re not listed.”

Lifting her lips in a tiny smile she inclined her head and set a chicken thigh topped with broth and vegetables next to the rice. Sitting down across from him she wordlessly passed a napkin. Seeing the other ready, both began eating in silence. When Simon complimented the rich flavor Cynthia courteously thanked him. Seeing his cup run low she asked if he was interested in more drink. He assented and she poured him more before setting the pitcher on the table. When her cup neared empty Simon returned the favor.

After the meal was over he helped her clear the dishes and even rinsed them, not giving any attention to the water splashing onto his fine, linen crème shirt. Once her kitchen was tidied up Cynthia offered him dessert to which he politely declined. “Coffee?”

“If it’s not too much trouble.” Elegantly standing near the kitchen Simon watched as she prepared their beverage. Soon the heady aroma of sweet coffee permeated the air. Pouring the brew into two tiny porcelain cups with matching saucers, Cynthia gracefully set them on a tray and allowed the vampire to courteously take it from her. “Thank you Simon.”

“You’re welcome.” Politely he waited for her to walk ahead of him.

Leading them both into the living room she watched as he set the delicate tray down. Handing Cynthia a saucer he murmured, “I like how you used a steamer trunk for a coffee table.”

Accepting it she flashed him a small smile and replied, “Garage sale find.” Waiting until he was comfortably seated she leaned back in her overstuffed chair, propped her stocking feet up, and asked, “Now Simon, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Taking a sip of the fragrant drink the blond vampire closed his eyes in appreciation before setting the tiny cup back on its saucer. Crossing his long legs he leaned back and stared into her ebony eyes. “Business first, eh, Cynthia…DeVarrez?”

Her fathomless gaze held his as she murmured, “Always.”

He made no attempt to hide the bittersweet smile on his lips. “Well, I guess you’ve become what you always wanted.”

“Not completely.” Blatantly studying him Cynthia silently admitted that he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her short, but eventful life. His dark blond hair was pulled back in a tight queue, the style emphasizing the exotic features bespeaking of Slavic heritage. The cerulean eyes watching her were reserved and watchful, but she knew from experience that they had the ability to shift to demonic ice and inspire terror in the unfortunate recipient of his rage.

His clothes were impeccable, yet simple---just as she remembered them to be. Allowing her gaze to drift down she noticed how the ivory shirt draped perfectly over his wide shoulders, while the pair of fawn slacks discretely clung to his lean hips and legs.

Several seconds passed in silence before Simon remarked, “It’s been a couple of years hasn’t it?”

Finally shifting her eyes from him Cynthia chose to lift her cup and take a small sip. Swallowing the pleasantly warm brew she sensed where her visitor was going to take the conversation. Leaning forward she set her saucer on the leather trunk and softly answered, “About two.”

Feeling his gaze like a physical caress she heard him murmur, “And you’ve changed quite a bit since then.”

Tilting her head to the side she attempted to bring levity to his observation. “Really? I haven’t grown any and my boobs are still the same size.”

Not even a tiny smile cracked the still perfection of his features. “That’s not what I mean.”

Clasping her hands across her knee she calmly answered, “Of course it isn’t.” Here it comes.

Simon’s brilliant crystalline eyes met hers without hesitation as he unequivocally stated, “You don’t need to be a part of this Cynthia.”

Bingo. Maintaining her relaxed position she quietly murmured, “My employers disagree.”

“What’s going to happen is going to be---your machinations are throwing things out of balance.”

A cynical smile lifted the corners of her red mouth as she mockingly said, “Ah balance. I forget how important balance is to you.”

Taking the barb in stride he softly explained, “There are reasons why I do what I do.”

Mirroring his tone she replied, “And there are reasons why I do what I do.”

“I can see that.” Abruptly shifting the topic Simon quietly shared, “I still remember the first time I met you. Do you?”

Why are you bringing this up? Keeping her pleasant mask up she softly admitted, “I do. You were the first one I couldn’t kill.”

A sincere chuckle drifted across the darkened space between the two. “Not for lack of trying.”

Cynthia kept her reply noncommittal. “Hmm.” Those were times that she preferred not to think about. The only time she willingly visited her memories was when her strength faltered. Just remembering the injustice in her life immediately fueled her conviction that what she was doing was right. But memories of Simon…those were ones she didn’t need.

“Cyn, you were such a spitfire back then. I couldn’t help but admire your spirit, even though you were trying to slam a metal bar through my chest.”

I haven’t been called that in years---two of them as a matter of fact. Remembering that long ago night she reluctantly added, “I couldn’t reach your heart because you’re so tall, so I kept trying to sweep your legs from underneath you. But I was too weak to do it.”

Without the least bit of censure Simon said with proud admiration, “But you didn’t quit. So when that failed you tried to cut open my legs so that I would drop.”

Shaking her head she smiled briefly. “And that didn’t work either. No matter what I did you were able to prevent it---all without hurting me.”

“Why would I? It would’ve been a sin to extinguish that fierce light.”

In a matter of fact tone she stated, “Others would’ve.”

Acknowledging the truth he softly answered, “I’m not like them.”

Feeling her heart stir she met his gaze and admitted, “I know.” Leaning back against the thick pillows she softly said, “There are several stories I’ve learned throughout the years. Would you care to hear one of them?”

Simon’s voice betrayed curiosity as he answered, “I’m listening.”

Keeping her attention trained on him she began, “It is said that there was once a vampire who by chance saw a handsome youth in a crude village. It was night, of course, so she was surprised to see a soul out in the midst of winter. But instead of huddling down for warmth in his shelter, he sat on a grassy knoll wrapped in his skins and watched the stars.”

“There was something so wondrous about this mortal who cared enough to look above that she didn’t care that he was a mere farmer without power. She only saw a beautiful soul to match his beautiful face. Night after night she came to the outskirts of the settlement, using her power to soothe the beasts that sensed her presence and watched him.”

Adding into the story Simon quietly said, “As the days turned into weeks she faltered in courage and grew angry with herself. How could she, a great predator, be scared of what amounted to little more than rabbit in comparison to her jaws?”

Nodding her head in agreement Cynthia continued with, “Yet not once did she take that frustration out on the young man. Her curiosity became obsession and so earlier and earlier she came until one night she found the courage to approach him. She expected to smell fear on his body, but when he noticed her presence he displayed no alarm, only relief.”

Curling her legs up she paused briefly, waiting to see if Simon would pick up the next part of the tale.

His low voice complied and stated, “For almost as long as she had watched him, he admitted how he had watched her. At first he had believed the fiery-haired woman to be a spirit lost on the way to the mists, but as the nights melded into one another he prayed for the chance to talk to her, if only to tell her she had blessed his nights and made them less lonely.”

“The vampire reached out and lovingly touched the twisted right leg he carried, understanding how because of his lameness he had to watch as female after female joined with men who were stronger---leaving him completely alone.”

Training his gaze upon hers Simon kept his form unnaturally still, while he said, “Leaning down she kissed the furs covering the limb, wordlessly expressing her acceptance of him. Without another word she held his hand and slowly led him into his solitary hut. That night they loved each other with a fierceness that went beyond lust. Before she departed in the pre-dawn hour she promised she would be back the next night.”

Finishing the tale Cynthia said, “She loved him in spite of his weakness. Or perhaps because of it. Therefore, night after night they continued to meet. The others in the youth’s clan began to whisper amongst themselves that something odd was occurring deep in the night. They sought to discover this mystery, but couldn’t for they never saw even a hair of her. However, her clan knew fully well what was occurring. Most didn’t care, but there were three vampires who were sickened by one of their own being in love with a lesser creature.”

“And so they plotted and planned for a way to lure her away. They succeeded and on that night they stormed the village and slaughtered every living being there. Their methods were brutal and quick, but they saved the worst for the youth.”

“She sensed her love’s agony and so racing back to him she found the shambles of what used to be a lively settlement. The smell of blood held no sweetness for her, only stench. With dread she came into his hut and found his dismembered body strewn across the dirt. She realized then, when it was too late, what had occurred.”

“Her vengeance knew no bounds and within the hour each of the murderers were ash. However, it did nothing to stop her grief. The only person she ever loved was dead and it was because of her. It was because of who she was. If she had been a human or he a vampire they could’ve loved until Fate saw fit to separate them.”

Simon softly murmured, “But it wasn’t meant to be.”

Blinking slowly Cynthia’s voice never betrayed a hint to what was in her mind or even if the sad story affected her at all. “And so with a deadened spirit she raised herself from the remnants of her enemies and began to chant. Harnessing the forces of timeless magic she declared that none from her clan would ever be able to freely enter a mortal’s dwelling without permission. Never again would a human be slaughtered in his own home by an unknown vampire. Never again would her bloodline be able to enter where they were not invited.”

Peering deep in her ebony eyes the blond vampire softly whispered, “So although vampires would always be stronger than humans, she gave them the only protection she could…in memory of the beautiful soul that had died because of her.”

Gracefully laying her hands on the seat’s armrest Cynthia murmured, “So when you say you’re not like them, it’s true. You can go where you’re not invited…among other things.” Clearing her throat she looked at him with a pretty smile and murmured, “I could tell you about the vampire who allowed his Christian lover to be fed to the lions, but you probably know that one, huh?”

Heavily sighing Simon shifted in his seat and leaned forward. Bluntly he asked, “Are you angry?”

Arching a lovely brow she asked with a small smile, “Why would I be?”

Despite the pleasant cast of her face Simon sensed the displeasure masked as amusement. “I just wanted to see how you were doing, that’s all.”

“Really?” Sagely nodding she narrowed her eyes and coolly asked, “And you saw fit to do this while I was gone?”

This time Simon had the grace to appear embarrassed. “It’s a habit I can’t seem to break. Besides, I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome or not---considering the way we parted.”

“And you didn’t even bother to find out.” Dryly laughing she tilted her head and asked, “So if this isn’t a social call, tell me---what are you doing here?”

Coming out he shortly said, “I saw you at the Cavern the other night.”

Her calm expression didn’t change. Shrugging she lightly commented, “I’d be surprised if you didn’t, considering you own majority stake in it.”

“Why are you apart of this?”

Slowly blinking she could feel her lips curl in a detached smile. Why? As if my being here isn’t answer enough. Looking around Cynthia softly murmured, “She and Carolina would’ve like this place. It’s not Texas, but they would’ve liked how warm it gets here, and how quiet the streets are.”

Gracefully standing up Simon approached her, looking for any indication that he was to maintain his space. Her eyes, beautiful and dark, were shuttered not with coldness, but with the absence of emotion. She used to be so different. Easing his large frame on the edge of the ottoman he laid his hand on her ankle in a gesture of comfort and said, “Cyn it’s not your fault.”

Maintaining her regal mask she inclined her head and evenly agreed. “You’re right. It isn’t.”

Knowing exactly what she wasn’t saying he stated in low, but steady voice, “The fault lays with one person and that’s the bastard who did it.”

Raising her head she quietly stared into his compassionate face and didn’t say a word. Yet her eyes flashed with suppressed fury. However, her voice, when it came, maintained the same smooth cadence as before. “It was supposed to be different Simon.”

Understanding flared in his handsome face and his cool hand tightened fractionally on her slender ankle. “So that’s how come you’re being used for this.”

Maintaining eye contact she replied, “Nobody uses me. I’ve been assigned to Sunnydale because it’s my job. My personal feelings were not the primary factor. I’m doing this because it’s right. That’s all.”

“Everything is not always black and white.”

Resisting the urge to kick his hand away Cynthia bluntly stated, “I disagree Simon. There’s right and wrong. And what’s happening in this town is wrong. Despite your association in this mess, you should know that.”

Heaving a small sigh he chose not to argue and requested, “I would prefer you to leave it to me.”

Her voice became cold and removed, as she quickly answered, “That’s not possible.”

Gentling his tone Simon soothingly said, “Talk to me, Niña. Tell me exactly what’s in store in your camp.”

Neatly dislodging his hand, without the least bit of violence, she stood up and coolly looked into his face. “Don’t mistake my courtesy for weakness. If you were meant to know, you would. That’s really why you came here, isn’t it? You believed that because of our past association I’d be easy to pump information out of.” A tiny flash of fury crossed her beautiful features, before it quickly disappeared. “If you have a problem with this arrangement---take it up with my superiors.”

Rising as well Simon towered over the small girl, but he knew she felt no intimidation. His gaze roved over her beloved face, looking for some trace of the girl she used to be. In regret he murmured, “Such coldness. How well they’ve trained you.”

“Are you judging me? Is the great Simon…Smith…judging me for being mortal? For having flaws? For being out of balance?” Her voice held no censure, merely curiosity.

Gently touching her smooth cheek he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I don’t judge. And if I were inclined to judging, I still wouldn’t judge you.”

“Because that would throw you out of balance, wouldn’t it?” Her mask slipped once again, allowing old pain to drift out.

Giving her face one last caress Simon softly whispered, “You know me better than any human alive does. You know the answer, Niña.”

Without another word she bent down, picked up the saucers, and walked into the kitchen. When she returned Simon already had his coat on and was standing by the door. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a pair of finely stitched leather gloves and slipped them on. “Goodbye Cynthia.”

Folding her hands at the waist she evenly replied, “Goodbye Simon.”

Opening the door he prepared to walk out when he suddenly asked, “Do you still hate me?”

Closing her eyes briefly Cynthia honestly answered, “No I don’t.”

“But you don’t understand.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement.

A moment passed before she smoothly answered, “It’s not something I think about anymore.”

“Ah, I see.” Unwilling to let it go he stated, “But you did think about it.”

Refusing to give into weakness she kept her tone emotionless. “Everyday Simon. Everyday.”

Still keeping his face from her the vampire sincerely admitted, “I did it for you.”

Beating back the series of images flooding her mind Cynthia’s heart silently cried in mourning. It doesn’t matter anymore. “I know you did. And now because of you, I can do what I do. In many ways you did me the kindest favor imaginable.”

Without turning around he nodded his head once and remarked, “This town is small enough that I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Shaking off the past like an unwanted burden Cynthia coldly disagreed. “I’m afraid you’re wrong Simon. We may see other, but we won’t be meeting again. Consider this a warning between old friends: if you ever come inside my apartment again, I’ll be sweeping you with the trash that same day. I promise you.”

The sadness in his voice was unmistakable as he quietly murmured, “Like I said, you’ve become what you always wanted.” And with those parting words Simon walked away.

Closing the door Cynthia ignored the pain in her heart. She refused to acknowledge the burning sensation prickling in the back of her lids. Instead she turned up the security level on the entire building and turned off the light. She needed her rest if she was going to continue to perform at the highest level.

And to perform at her highest level she couldn’t indulge her weaknesses.

*****

“Miss DeVarrez has just let the Ancient out, Sir.”

“Relay the footage to me immediately.”

“It is downloading now.”

“Inform me when she resumes her duties. That will be all.”

Bringing up his panel Edward William Asheburne watched the encounter between Simon and Cynthia with much interest. He had been aware of the vampire’s previous presence in his agent’s home as well, but he was as surprised as she to see the Ancient boldly announce himself.

Studying the footage with a critical eye he noted not only their spoken, but unspoken gestures as well. Simon gave nothing away until he approached and touched her. As for Cynthia, except for a few instances, her behavior was a credit to the years of training she had undergone. However, no matter how few, there were still breaches in emotion regarding Simon.

Turning off his panel Asheburne quietly pondered how best to proceed in the next few weeks. His young protégé had only two weaknesses---one was absolutely to the advantage of his organization. The other, however…

Pressing a discreet button he was rewarded with an immediate, “Sir?”

“Send me all the archive information regarding Cynthia Santiana.”

“Yes, sir.”

Leaning back in his comfortable leather chair Asheburne continued his previous line of thought. In all their years of association Cynthia Santiana had two weaknesses. The first---the love of her defunct family---kept her focused and committed to their mutual cause. It was because of her loyalty to their memories that she became the best.

And that in itself was no small feat.

Of all the ones chosen for their organization, he had never seen anyone excel so quickly. Her capacity for learning was phenomenal. There wasn’t a discipline that she hadn’t mastered, whether it be languages, fighting, etiquette, mysticism, or technology.

Allowing the smallest of smiles to grace his lips Asheburne realized his thoughts were those of a stern, yet proud parent. It was true. However, it wasn’t his warm feelings towards her that skewed his mind. No matter how much he admired Cynthia’s skill, he never forgot that she was a tool.

A powerful and extraordinary one, but a tool nonetheless.

“Transfer complete.”

Lifting up a tiny remote Asheburne pointed it towards the empty space in front of him. Immediately an image of the Ancient appeared in mid-air. Peering at the flawless face staring back at him, he thought of Cynthia’s second weakness.

Her love for him is completely unacceptable. No matter how much she suppressed it, no matter how much she ignored it---she was still madly in love with Simon.

Steepling his fingers together the British gentleman passively looked out the window onto the bustling world below and quietly snarled, “Don’t you dare fall into your weaknesses Cynthia. Otherwise you’re no better than the Slayer.”

*****

“Mom! I’m leaving!”

Coming out of the kitchen Joyce was in the middle of drying her hands with a towel. “It’s a school night Buffy. Why don’t you stay home tonight?”

Furrowing her brow she whined, “But Mom, I’ve spent hours after school getting tutored. I NEED some down time.”

Skeptically lifting her brows Joyce mentioned, “Which by the way, I haven’t seen any results that prove you’re taking your sessions seriously.”

Placing her hands on her slender hips Buffy pouted, “I can’t believe you have so little faith in me.” Heaving the sigh of a martyr she bounded up the stairs and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be expecting an apology.”

Raising her voice so she’d be heard Buffy’s mother called out, “If you show me something wonderful I’ll not only apologize, I’ll let you go to the Bronze with my blessings.”

Yelling in return the young girl stated, “I’m holding you to that.” Within moments she came sauntering down with a history test in hand. Without another word she handed it to her mother and smugly waited.

Taking the proffered test Joyce looked down, expecting to see a paper filled with red ink, only to see a miracle. Widening her eyes she sputtered, “B-Buffy! I can’t believe it!” Seeing her daughter’s offended expression she quickly said, “I mean I always knew you could do it---it’s just---I’m so proud of you!” Enveloping her tiny daughter in a tight hug Joyce began to hop up and down.

Feeling her body getting crushed Buffy laughingly warned, “Okay Mom, world getting dizzy here.”

Letting go she kissed her daughter on the cheek and brightly stated, “It’s seems that Angel’s tutoring is really helping.”

Buffy felt her cheeks flush a bit. It was true that his tutoring had immediate results---due to his unconventional methods. Biting her lip she remembered how it felt to have his fingers inside of her while bringing down the crop on her backside. Only a few more hours until I see him. Forcing herself to shrug she murmured, “It is. History is pretty boring, but somehow he makes it interesting.” Quickly looking away Buffy could’ve slapped a hand over her mouth. I can’t believe I just said that!

“Well that’s what good teachers do---inspire their students to achieve more.” Walking towards the kitchen Joyce happily took the test and stuck it the to the refrigerator with a magnet. Standing back she proudly stated, “There. Now every time I come in here I can see my baby’s wonderful achievement.”

Buffy forced herself to gripe, “Mom I’m not in kindergarten anymore.” However, on the inside she was ecstatic herself. Anytime I feel like I can’t do this Slayer-Training-Improvement-Thing, all I have to do is look at that test. Waiting until her mother came back she asked, “So can I go to the Bronze?”

“Of course you can! Just be back by 10:30.”

“10:30? That’s like only two hours!”

Crossing her arms the elder Summers sternly said, “10:30. If you don’t like that I can make it 10:00.”

Trudging towards the door Buffy mumbled, “Okay, okay. 10:30 it is.”

Seeing her daughter off Joyce cautioned, “Now be careful on the way to Willow’s.”

Waving she assured her mother with, “I will. I won’t talk to strangers and if anyone I don’t know gets too close I’ll introduce them to my little friend---Mr. Pepper Spray.”

“That’s my girl.”

Waiting until the door closed Buffy turned around and began to walk with a smile. Tonight was definitely a night for celebration. ‘No Acrymydion. No prophesies. Just good ole Slaying. Who would’ve thought I’d be happy with only dusting vampires on my plate?’ Within no time she arrived at Willow’s. Walking up to the brightly lit porch she rang the doorbell.

Mr. Rosenberg answered the door within a minute. Seeing the young blonde he smiled and warmly greeted her with, “Buffy! Come on in.” Closing and locking door behind them he mentioned, “Willow’s still not ready, but she wants you to come to her room.”

“Okay. Thanks Mr. Rosenberg.” Going down the hall she knocked on her friend’s door and immediately heard, “Come in Buffy!”

Pushing it open she smiled at the messy array of clothing covering every available space on the bed. “I guess you couldn’t decide between the pink and the rest of your closet, huh?”

Plopping on a chair Willow wailed, “I don’t have anything to wear!”

Gracefully sinking to the floor Buffy dryly stated, “And so what has been the battle cry of women for centuries endures.”

Holding up a purple shirt with cute flowers the redhead cried, “What am I thinking when I buy these things?”

Furrowing her brow the Slayer replied, “Uh, cute and wholesome?”

Throwing it down in disgust Willow seethed, “Exactly. I’m tired of cute and wholesome. I mean it’s like ‘Oh look. Here comes cute and wholesome girl. Poor Oz. He probably doesn’t have the heart to tell her she’s so cute it’s enough to make him puke!’” Turning to her friend she muttered, “What am I going to do?”

Putting up a finger to her lips Buffy murmured, “Well it could be that Oz likes you cute and wholesome…” Seeing the fires of piqued rage flare in Willow’s eyes she quickly changed her train of thought and stated, “Or we could just go back to my house and do a super-fast makeover.”

A ray of hope transformed Willow’s face to angelic bliss. “Number Two!”

Resolutely standing up the blonde girl nodded. “Alright then. But we’re going to have to hurry if we want to have any time at the Bronze.”

“You’ve got curfew tonight?”

“Yep 10:30. So you should stomach your disgust of your cute and wholesome wardrobe and pick something out to wear to my house.”

Crossing her slender legs she eyed Buffy’s tan skirt, black shirt, and ebony boots with envy. Directing her attention to the pile with distaste she whined, “Do I have to?”

“Either that or go naked, but I don’t think your parents would be cool with that.”

Sighing heavily Willow agreed. “True. Oh well, I guess it’s purple wholesomeness with a shot of denim cuteness.”

Wary of her friend’s reaction towards any cute-and-wholesome-positivity Buffy neutrally said, “Sounds like a…reasonable…choice.”

Shoving her head through the neck hole Willow abruptly mentioned, “I better call Xander to let Cordelia know to pick us up at your house.”

Dryly Buffy muttered, “Oh joy. I can imagine Cordelia’s lecture on ‘Who Do You Guys Think I Am---A Taxi Service?’”

Pulling up her jeans Willow quickly buttoned them before slipping on a pair of purple and yellow striped socks. “I’m sure it’s going to be pretty loud tonight. Or not. I mean this is an Acrymydion-Free night. It’s bound to bring out her sweet side.”

Picking up a brush Buffy ran it through her friend’s locks, effortlessly securing the lovely ruby hair in a ponytail. “You’re probably right.”

Eyeing the Slayer in disbelief Willow stated in wonderment, “I can’t believe you didn’t say something like, ‘What? She has one?’ Buffy? Are you…maturing?”

Laughing Buffy griped, “Am I that immature?”

“Oh no! It’s just…wow.”

Putting the brush down on the dresser the blonde girl assured her still gaping friend, “Don’t worry. I’ll probably be back to brattiness within the day. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just let me get my shoes.”

Within minutes both girls were quickly making their way back to Buffy’s house. Rubbing her arms Willow commented, “It’s still chilly. It should be warming up by now.”

“I know. Maybe it’s just another one of those wacky winter things.” Instinctually scanning the streets for danger she shrugged and commented, “Although it could herald the beginning of an Apocalypse.”

“Oh don’t even joke like that!” Who said I was joking? Smiling she saw the lights in her living room on and the image of her mother talking on the phone. Bounding up the steps Buffy tossed over her shoulder, “We gotta make it quick while Mom is on the phone or she might corner us with chit-chat.” Opening up the door she threw out a quick “Hi Mom! We’re about to leave again. Willow just needs to borrow some clothes.” However she froze when she heard the caller’s response after her mother said, “Uh could you just hold on for a sec?”

“Of course.”

Covering the mouthpiece Joyce commented, “I thought you’d be at the Bronze by now.”

She’s talking to Angelus! Glancing at her friend Buffy suggested, “Go up ahead of me Will. I’ll be there in a bit.”

Nodding her head Willow murmured, “Sure,” her young mind already entranced with visions of non-cute-and-wholesome-clothing.

Praying that her mother wouldn’t say his name before the red head was out of earshot she forced herself to affect the typical pose of teenage impatience. “We’re doing a super fast makeover, so I got to go.”

“Oh okay honey. I was just telling Angel about your test.” Giving her daughter a thumbs-up she reiterated, “I’m just so proud of you!”

Pasting on a small smile Buffy casually asked, “He called?”

“Huh, no. I called him. I just couldn’t wait another minute to brag.”

She has his number! Turning away she tossed out, “Okay. Well I’ll see you later Mom!”

Going up the stairs she forced the frown marring her face away. Still her mind was in turmoil. How come she has his number and I don’t? I didn’t even know Angelus had a phone. Walking into her room she already saw Willow was entrenched in her closet. Oh shit! The presents! What if she finds them? Approaching her Buffy gently steered her away and enthusiastically stated, “You sit down Ms. Non-Wholesome and I’ll act as your fashion model, okay?”

“Uh, sure.” Sitting cross-legged on the bed she expectantly waited to be wowed.

Whirling around Buffy quickly scanned the contents, discretely pushed a large bag filled with gifts out of view, and wondered what would look best on her friend. “Pants or skirt Will?” Man I haven’t even had a chance to see what he got me!

Giving the matter much thought she glanced down at the blonde’s exposed leg and wickedly smiled. “Skirt.”

“Ooh, naughty girl.” Chuckling she turned back towards the hanging clothes before pulling three out and holding each one in turn. “Okay, we’ve got an emerald green---which would go nicely with your hair by the way. A purple, which before you start glaring at me like that, is DARK, so it’s more like a saucy purple. No, forget purple, it’s called BRUISE. Ah, you like that don’t you? And finally we have black, not just basic black, dangerous black. So what do you want to be? A jewel, a bruise, or a dangerous individual?”

Putting one finger up to her mouth Willow studied each one. Quietly she was leaning towards the purple, no bruise, but to pick it would defeat the only makeover process. Black was always a good choice, but she just wasn’t a dangerous type of girl. “I’ll be a jewel tonight.”

Dramatically flinging the discarded skirts to the floor Buffy cried, “Excellent decision! Okay here you go. Now onto tops. What kind are you in the mood for? I have short sleeved, no sleeved, and long sleeved.”

Slipping off her socks, shoes, and pants Willow was already sliding into the skirt. Fumbling with the zipper she looked up and replied, “How about short sleeved with a jacket?”

“Okay.” Rifling through she found a few suitable options and began her pitch again. “Now I have the matching shirt, which you can see is quite pretty. I also have a white one, which will really make your hair stand out. Finally I have trusty black, which is always a good choice.”

“Mmm. Green again.” Reaching for the proffered shirt Willow quickly took off the one she was wearing and slid the new one in place. “Now all I need are a jacket and shoes.”

“Jacket coming up.” Pulling a dark brown jacket off the hanger Buffy laid it on the bed before digging for shoes. “It’s a good thing we wear the same shoe size or we’d be in a jam.”

Peering at her slender legs Willow frowned a commented, “It looks like I could use a shave.”

Holding up two pairs of shoes the Slayer looked at them critically and absently murmured, “Hmm. Brown or black?”

“Brown.”

“Okay here you go. By the way, I keep new razors in the bathroom---top left drawer.”

Bounding up the red head checked her watch and murmured, “Thanks Buffy. They’ll be here in less than ten minutes so I better hurry up.”

“Hey do you want some help with your hair?”

Looking at herself critically in the mirror Willow actually liked the high ponytail. But maybe she should change it… “Do I need another hair style?”

Correctly reading her friend’s insecurity Buffy quickly shook her head and emphatically stated, “No! I like the ponytail! I just mentioned it just in case.”

Warmly smiling Willow chirped, “Oh okay. I’ll be out in a few.” Closing the door the sound of running water soon filled the silence.

“Personally I would’ve left her hair down.”

Angelus! Whirling around the tiny blonde looked up to see her lover leaning indolently against the wall. Lowering her voice to a near whisper she asked in a panicked voice, “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by to pick my girl up.”

Flushing from pleasure she glanced at the bathroom door, torn between approaching Angelus and tossing him outside again. “Willow’s here!”

Mimicking her tone the dark vampire replied, “I know. Hence my comment.”

Remembering what he said she narrowed her eyes and growled, “Were you peeping?”

“Maybe.” Seeing his lover’s face turn an interesting shade of red Angelus held up his hands and assured her with, “Now don’t get your panties in a bunch Baby. I didn’t come to see her; I came to congratulate you. Can I help it if she just happened to be in the same room with you? Undressing?”

“Buffy?”

Clearing her throat she looked at the closed door and raised her voice, “Yes?”

“Do you have any shaving gel?”

“Yeah! It should be in the cabinet!”

“Thanks!”

Keeping his glittering eyes trained on her lovely face Angelus laughingly asked, “Taking a plain, little dove under your wing?”

Hotly defending her friend Buffy retorted in a harsh whisper, “She’s not plain!”

“You’re absolutely correct. In fact, she’s rather alluring in a cute and wholesome way.”

Did he follow me there and hear everything? But how come I didn’t feel him? I didn’t even feel him come into my room. Maybe it's just a coincidence. Crossing her arms she tilted her head and asked, “Are you trying to piss me off? Or is this another one of your jealousy games?”

Pushing off the wall he gracefully approached her and placed his hand on her shoulder. Leaning forward he kissed the side of her neck and smiled when her heartbeat sped up. “It could be both…or maybe neither.” Running his tongue up the smooth column he huskily admitted, “I love seeing your jealousy and being an observer of women it seems we’ll be destined to play the game.”

Closing her eyes from the heat his touches were producing Buffy forced her voice to sarcastically comment, “So basically what you’re saying is that you’re pig and because of it I’ll always be jealous?”

Lightly nipping her chin Angelus met her eyes and unrepentantly grinned. “Yep!”

Winding her fingers in the back of his hair she briskly tugged and warned, “Just as long as you make sure your observations stay just that we’ll be fine. And next time you happen to come across one of my friends undressing you turn around and close your eyes.”

Wrapping his strong arms around her lean waist he abruptly lifted her up and whispered, “Feisty! I like it!”

Smothering her giggle, lest Willow hear, Buffy quickly kissed his cheek and asked, “What time do you want me over?”

Setting her down he smirked and answered, “What makes you think I want you over tonight?”

A tiny curl of uncertainty unfurled inside of her heart before being ignored. “You’re here, aren’t you?” Suddenly she remembered Joyce and fearfully asked, “Does Mom know you’re here?” Holding her breath she prayed the answer would be no.

“No she doesn’t, so your secret is safe lover.”

Hearing the water turn off she began pushing Angelus towards the window. “I’ll be over after midnight.”

Digging his heels in he frowned and pointed out, “I’ll tell you when to come over Buff---not the other way around.”

Thinking about their new arrangement she heaved a soft sigh and replied, “When would you like me over?”

“Now.”

Eyes widening in surprise she sought to buy more time. “Willow! Try some new lotion I just bought! It’s by the sink!”

“Alright!”

Turning towards her lover she squeaked, “Now? Now?”

“Have you developed a stutter dear? I know a fine way to exacerbate it,” he suggested lewdly.

Ignoring his risqué comment she leaned closer and stated, “I can’t leave with you now! Willow’s here and Cordelia and Xander are on their way!”

In a bored tone Angelus haughtily replied, “What do I care? I came to get you and that’s final.”

“I can’t.” Seeing his dark expression was implacable Buffy placed both hands on his chest and beseechingly murmured, “I can’t ditch my friends tonight. Don’t put me in this position.”

Drawing his dark eyes in a frown he growled in reminder, “Your first loyalty is to me.”

“Angelus…please? I promise I’ll be back by 10:30.” Wrapping her arms around his waist she pleaded, “Please let me do this. I never ask you for anything, so please?”

Peering deeply into her eyes Angelus could find no trace of deceit or manipulation. Her pleading was so unlike her the vampire was rather surprised. If anything she yelled, brooded, threatened, or a combination of all three to demand her will, but at the moment she was being submissive. He liked it.

“If I let you go, will you give me something in return?”

Warily looking up she softly asked, “What?”

“If I tell you then we’re negotiating terms and that’s not allowed. I let you go to the Bronze without a problem you give me something I want. It’s as simple as that.”

Looking towards the still-closed door Buffy chewed on her lip before nodding her head. “As long as it’s not anything that goes against my calling, okay.”

Laughing softly he wondered, “Did you think I’d ask for something like a tasty toddler in return?” The utter revulsion in her eyes suddenly affected him in a way not to his liking. She’s looking at me as if I’m a monster. In her eyes right now I am. Pulling her arms off he lightly pushed her away and coldly tossed out, “Do whatever you want lover as long as you’re there by midnight.” Before she could utter another sound he was gone.

“Buffy!” Seeing the utter sadness in her friend’s eyes Willow concernedly asked, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking her head she forced another familiar smile to her lips and answered, “Nothing. I just got lost in memories that’s all.”

Giving a sympathetic nod the red head was about to offer sympathy when the rude blare of a car horn sounded. “Guess that’s Cordy’s taxi service.” Gently touching the Slayer’s arm she asked, “You sure you want to go out tonight?”

Mentally shrugging off her hurt Buffy said, “Definitely! After all, how often to we get to celebrate the voiding of a prophecy? C’mon---let’s go.” Both girls made their way down the stairs tossing out a cheerful, “Bye Mom! Bye Ms. Summers!”

Entering the car Buffy closed an ear to Cordelia’s rant of “My God! What do you guys think I am? Oh, let’s decide to go somewhere else---it’s okay. Cordelia doesn’t care, after all she’s just here to be our taxi!” Settling in the back seat she thought, What got him so pissed? Is he just trying to ruin my night? Well screw that! I’m gonna have fun and I’m not going to obsess over what made him so mad. However, as they drove away Buffy couldn’t help, but wonder, Why’d he get so cold?

The rest of the night was spent in frantic merriment, the five teens grasping their reprieve from danger with two fists. Oz’s breakout theory concerning practice brought moderate results, but the Dingoes were one step further to enlightenment. Buffy’s dancing feet were kept to a minimum, which she laughed off as to “I’m just having way too much fun hanging out with you guys!”

However, during one point when the laughter died down Buffy couldn’t help but experience a moment of melancholy. Looking out to her friends hugging each other close during the requisite slow dance tune, she remembered what it had been like to hold the one she loved close.

Thoughtfully sipping her soda she wondered what if Angel hadn’t left before feeling a momentary rush of guilt. I used to feel guilty when I thought of Angelus, now I feel guilty when I think of Angel. Why do I have to treat them as separate people?

“Did you think I’d ask for something like a tasty toddler in return?”

Setting her drink down she rapidly blinked back her tears and thought, That’s why. Angel would NEVER even think of doing something so horrible, much less joking about it. Throwing her head back she forced a smile to her lips and immediately straightened her shoulders. What the hell am I moping about for? I just got told my prophecy is dead, instead of myself, and I’m whining about my boyfriend! Wuss!

Afterwards Buffy treated the night as any 17 year-old would. Consequences? What were those? With the music throbbing and the laughter flowing, the five friends saw curfew come too quickly.

Strolling out the door she felt someone’s eyes on her, but when she turned back all she saw was the same milling crowd as before. Is someone really there, or am I just hoping it’s Angelus watching me from the shadows. That’s why I didn’t dance with anyone; the only hands I want on my body are his.

“You missing him?”

Jerking her head to the side Buffy’s panicked gaze met Oz’s calm blue eyes. “What?”

Slowing his walk until Willow, Xander, and Cordelia were several yards ahead the werewolf repeated, “You missing Angel?”

Commanding her body to relax she softly murmured, “Why do you ask?”

“Willow told me you were pretty sad tonight and well, the wolf is getting stronger.”

I understand now. Keeping her voice low, Buffy stated, “You can smell his scent on me.”

Ducking his head slightly, Oz replied, “It’s a little stronger tonight than usual---but it's probably because...well, you know.” "The wolf is getting stronger, right." Blindly staring at the backs of her friends she wondered if he truly had no idea of her activities. If he could smell Angelus’ scent, couldn’t he smell him on other parts of her body? Casually swinging her arms Buffy admitted, “I do miss him, I won’t ever stop, but…”

“But it’s not something you really want to talk about.” Despite her relaxed position Oz could intuitively sense the discomfort radiating from his friend. “I don’t want to pry or anything, I just wanted to let you know that you’re not alone.”

Looking up in surprise, Buffy’s pink mouth parted while her slender brows drew together in a confused frown. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

Before she could form a reply Willow looked over her shoulder and called out cheerfully, “C’mon you guys! We’re going to get doughnuts before curfew ends.”

“Looks like we have a date with our sweet tooth.” Oz took a few steps forward before Buffy called out, “Oz!”

Looking over his shoulder he raised a brow in friendly curiosity.

“Thanks.” Gracing him with a dazzling smile Buffy didn’t realize her beauty had shifted into something ethereal.

Oz’s mouth dropped slightly as his senses wildly careened with the knowledge that something was prowling about the edges of bestial consciousness.

Turning away Buffy’s smile faded into an expression of contentment, leaving her face as normal as before. The young werewolf doubted his intuition in that moment, confused and misled by what he believed was true. She looked…perfect…inhuman…almost like a vampire…or something immortal…but she’s just a Slayer. Human. Or something.

“Buffy, my feet are really hurting.”

“Sorry, Will, but it’ll turn into pure torture in a few minutes,” she answered sympathetically.

“Aww!”

“It’s better to have blisters on your feet and fashionably look somewhat decent than wear the mutant-clothes you usually do,” Cordelia injected in her oh-so-helpful way.

Peering down her fine nose loftily, the redhead opened her mouth and saucily replied, “You know Cordelia---never mind.”

Catching up to the amicably cantankerous group, Buffy’s eyes bulged in disbelief as she breathed, “Willow, oh my god, is that…maturity…you just showed?”

“Maybe it is---ow!” Stopping in mid-step, the redhead curled her toes in pain.

Shaking himself from his stupor, Oz loped forward with his trademark small grin and gallantly picked up his little witch.

“Whoa, dude! Remember our innocent eyes here! We can’t see all these displays of public affection,” Xander remarked while shielding said innocent eyes.

Wrapping her arms around her savior’s neck, Willow dryly murmured, “I’m sure I’m speaking for the rest of us when I say your eyes may be innocent, but your tongue was pretty lewd in the Bronze.”

Brightly laughing, Buffy joined in the gang, including Cordelia, when they crowed, “Guilty!”

Making their way to the 24-hour sweet shop, the teens stuffed themselves to the point of nausea, laughing at nothing and everything. Casually looking out the large, plate-glass window, Buffy thought, This is the way it should be. We should just be a group of kids just out having a great time---without worrying about demons and monsters. So why does something seem off? Is it because of Angelus or something else?

The Slayer’s thoughtful ruminations drew to a halt when her arm flew up and immediately caught the piece of sticky goodness flying towards her head. “Hey! You could put out my innocent eye with this!”

“Whoa, good reflexes you got there Buff,” Xander sheepishly pointed out. “I was actually trying to get Oz.”

Tossing the pastry back to her ‘attacker’ Buffy shrugged and said, “Carry on.” After a brief, but tasty skirmish, the next minutes were spent discussing the merits of glazed versus jelly, the real-life benefits of algebra (legend or authentic), and summer vacation plans.

Unfortunately, as was the case with all good things, their night of celebration ended as 10:30 drew to a close. After seeing everyone home safely, Buffy strolled up to her house just in time to see a strange vehicle in the driveway. Eying it curiously, she was about to walk through her front door only to meet Angelus on his way out.

The energy between them instantly crackled with lust. The dark vampire wore the somber garb of a conservative man, nothing too flashy, yet his male beauty burned brightly against the simple canvas of black sweater, gray slacks, and highly polished shoes. His charcoal overcoat emphasized the broadness of his wide shoulders, instantly bringing memories to Buffy’s mind of the taste of his naked skin.

Angelus’ dark eyes danced with amusement as the scent of her arousal permeated the crisp, night air. His fine nostrils flared, telling her without words that he enjoyed the fragrance of her need.

Before the Slayer could say a word, Joyce came behind him and smiled brightly at the sight of her daughter. “Buffy! You made it home on time!”

Avoiding her lover’s black gaze, she shrugged casually and said, “If you want, I can go back out to the Bronze and come in an hour after curfew.”

“Buffy!” Apologetically smiling to Angelus, she murmured, “Teens just have their way.”

Turning his enigmatic countenance on her, his voice was polite as a tutor’s should be, but the words he smoothly uttered made her pulse jump. “That they will, but that’s why I love…them…the way I do.” Flashing a small smile over his shoulder, he added, “At least, that’s why I love working with them.”

Rubbing her arms because of the cold air, Joyce admonished her daughter to, “Come in, Buffy. It’s freezing out there.” Not waiting to see if her motherly command was obeyed, she bid a friendly farewell to Angelus. “Thanks for stopping by, Angel. Your report was informative and we’ll be able to put it to good use.”

“My pleasure, Joyce.” Briefly laying his hand on Buffy’s shoulder, he reminded her, “Don’t forget we have a session on Wednesday at 7:00.”

Maintaining her polite expression, she nodded. “Sure. See you then.” Her veins shivered with delight, awakening instantly to begin pulsing in a primal cry for mutual satisfaction. It’s been almost a whole day since he bit me. I wonder if he’s hungry. Maybe that was why he was so damned crabby. Gazing at him breathlessly, her thoughts suddenly became dark. Hold up. Why the fuck is he here? He knew I was going to be gone. Is that why he came over? Did he sneak over to see my mom?

If he was aware of his lover’s souring mood, Angelus did not acknowledge it at all. “Alright then, I’ll see you both on Wednesday.” Brushing by Buffy, he spoke in such a low voice human ears would never hear his command, but she certainly did. “Wear them tonight.”

Walking through the door, she didn’t bother to see him get in his car or even leave. What was he doing here? When her mother asked, “Are you hungry?” Buffy answered, “Not really. I’m stuffed with doughnuts.”

It took every ounce of her control to pretend that she had not been ready to claw both her mother and Angelus beyond recognition a second ago. What the HELL was he doing here? Rubbing her neck in a gesture of tiredness, Buffy yawned widely. Why the fuck didn’t she tell me he was coming? Did she call him or did he just come over?

But Buffy couldn’t say a single word. Her ‘relationship’ was a dirty secret, which could never be brought into the hallowed light of innocent reality and painless truth.

“Look what Angel prepared for you.” Waiting until her daughter accepted the folder, Joyce continued enthusiastically, “After taking all the scores you’ve earned this year, and taking in account all the future opportunities you’ll have, he’s projected what you need to make in order to not only pass, but to earn an A this semester, and bring up your average.”

Dumbly looking down at the colorful graph and accompanying spreadsheet, Buffy asked, “Angelu---Angel made this?”

Making an affirmative sound, Joyce came over and pointed out, “Look at this as well. He even listed what your strengths and weaknesses were.”

In emotionless ink and perfectly printed characters, Angelus’ tutor opinion sat on the paper for her to read unflinchingly.

Buffy has a quick mind for retaining what events in history have occurred. She can quickly dissect causes and effects with a maturity that is rarely seen at her age. With total dedication, Buffy could ultimately become an expert in all things historical. Armed with her natural gifts, she could realistically attain the qualifications needed to go into a variety of fields. Some career options for her are becoming an educator, consultant, archaeologist, or curator.

Reading the lines he had composed, Buffy experienced a sensation of confusing warmth. Does he really think that or is he just bullshitting my mom? Intelligence has never been one of my key qualities. Does he really think I’m smart?

Her mouth curled slightly upon reading the next set.

Buffy’s weaknesses, unfortunately, are many. She cannot see the importance of her education, so she loses focus quite easily. Her arrogance concerning the material is most undesirable. Like so many of her generation, because she doesn’t see the significance of the lesson, she believes it to be unworthy of her time.

Reading the same paragraph as her daughter, Joyce shook her head and murmured in slight reproach, “I hated seeing it in print, but then again, I can believe it.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom,” the younger girl muttered sarcastically. Of course, I lose my focus. He’s stroking the whip in his hand like a pet! How can I concentrate on fifteenth century politics with that going on? And as far as arrogance, well, hello Mr. Pot!

“Sorry, Honey, but it’s the truth.” Averting another sour comment, she quickly pointed out, “Did you read his recommendations?”

Letting out an irritated sigh, she answered, “Not yet.” What will he say? That I should be whipped with a crop at least three times a week? Glancing further down the page, Buffy silently read her ‘tutor’s’ suggestions for improvement with a grim eye.

It is my opinion that Buffy’s tutoring sessions increase from once a week to three. I also believe the lessons should increase in time as well. At this point, she is in need of firm direction in order to combat the above weaknesses. However, I am completely confident that not only will Buffy meet the outlined expectations, she will undoubtedly surpass them.

I was just being sarcastic about the three times a week! Looking up from the paper in her hand, Buffy asked in a neutral tone, “So is this what you guys talked about?”

“Pretty much.” Taking the report, Joyce reread it again before stating, “I agree with Angel. Today’s test proves you are capable of A’s.”

“Angel’s going to be coming here then.” Three times a week. This can’t be good. What if Willow or Xander drops by unexpectedly? I’m not supposed to be seeing him. What if Mom mentions it to one of them?

“Yes.” Raising her gaze, the elder Summers murmured, “Or you’ll go the library with him.”

“The library?” What did he tell her? She’s just going to send me off with a stranger?

Making a distracted sound, Joyce nodded and glanced at her watch. “It’s pushing 11:00pm. You need to get to bed or you’ll be SO tired tomorrow.”

Wear them tonight. Smiling softly, Buffy agreed. “Okay, Mom. Goodnight.” There isn’t shit I can do about it right now. I can’t even yell at her for having him here. In Mom’s eyes Angel is just my tutor. Which reminds me…

“Um, Mom?”

“Yes, Buffy?”

“Could you, uh, do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Could you, uh, not say, uh, mention Angel to anybody?”

A small frown of confusion creased her mother’s brow as she cocked her head slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Buffy.”

The twisting of her small hands was not artifice, but true discomfort. “Well, it’s kind of embarrassing to have a tutor. I don’t want Willow and Xander, or anybody, to know.”

Slowly nodding her head, Joyce murmured, “Okay, but don’t they already know about your tutoring? Especially since you stay after school so much with Mr. Giles?”

That’s true! Argh! Think quick. “I mean they do know about that, it’s just, well, it would be embarrassing if they knew I needed MORE tutoring.”

A light of understanding glimmered in her mother’s fine eyes. “I see.” Patting her daughter lightly on the arm, she reassured Buffy with, “I won’t mention Angel to them at all.”

Sincere relief transformed the Slayer’s pretty face. “Thanks, Mom.” Impulsively she leaned forward and quickly left a kiss on Joyce’s cheek. “That takes such a load off my mind.”

Delighted at the spontaneous show of affection she smiled indulgently and replied, “I’m glad to have helped.”

With a last smile Buffy turned away and called out, “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Honey.” Holding onto the report, Joyce began walking towards her office, apparently with the intention of filing away Angel’s suggestions when she stopped. “I love you!”

Pausing on a step, Buffy leaned over the railing and called back, “Love you too!” Making her way up the stairs she felt conflicted. Her jealousy was a sick beast growing inside, throwing venomous strands of distrust about her spirit. One minute she viewed Joyce as a rival, the next she viewed her as a nurturing mother. What was the truth? Do I trust her or not? How can I even be angry wit her when she doesn't know?

Walking into her room she sat on the bed with a heavy heart. Tonight should be one of pure joy! She no longer had a deadly prophesy hanging over her head. She was embarking on the next step of becoming the greatest Slayer in history. While Giles had been sure to keep her ego in check, he had flatly come out and told her, You have the ability and heart to become the strongest in your lineage.

Flopping back, Buffy couldn’t shake off her heavy heart. Damn. I get so tired of whining and being angsty all the time. What is my problem? Rolling over she let out a disgusted sigh. A sliver of uncertainty had ground itself inside her mind, arousing instincts that prowled about the edges of her comfort zone incessantly.

Absently tracing a pattern on the bedspread with her finger, she closed her eyes in weariness. Something isn’t right. Maybe it’s the guilt inside. I’ve become Angelus’ mistress and no one can ever know. That's probably what's bothering me. On the night of my greatest escape, there's one thing I can't escape---no matter what.

In an inaudible voice she murmured, “Would a strong Slayer truly have a weak heart weak mine? You think I’m special Giles, but I’m not.”

Half-heartedly shedding her clothes, Buffy dreaded the minutes passing by. Once her mother checked in on her, she would have to leave. And go where? Go hunting for vampires that won’t come because Angelus ordered them to stay away? Mechanically going through her absolutions in the bathroom, she showered quickly and readied herself for bed.

Pulling the blankets over her bare shoulder, she didn’t bother to go through the motions of putting on pajamas. Staring into the darkness she wondered if this is what her soul looked like: hazy and barely discernible through the blackness shrouding everything that once looked bright.

It’s my weakness for him. I’m miserable and sick with love for Angelus. A part of me hates it, but the other likes the way I feel when I’m with him. I like not having control. I like him being responsible for everything. That way, it’s not my fault.

Closing her eyes, Buffy felt a sob rise in her throat. This is what I’ve amounted to. On the night of my salvation I found myself sinking further into my own hell. Choking back her tears, she willed the pain away, even as the golden links about her waist and thighs reminded her who she had become. The ugly truth stemming from all the salty tears she refused to release was that given the chance she would never walk away from him. The other night proved it. Angelus had extended the offer of freedom and instead of pouncing on it---she crawled back to his heavy hand.

Minutes passed as she suffered beneath her familiar shame and guilt. What will he do to me tonight? What will I do to myself? Eventually Joyce came in, smoothing the covers over her still form, not knowing that beneath her loving touch Buffy’s pain increased. Do you like him, Mom? Do you see Angel as a man you would want?

Once it was safe, she slid from the bed and noiselessly crept towards her closet and opened the door. Pulling box after box, she soon had a gaily-wrapped offering of servitude at her feet.

Gingerly holding a small package in her fingers, Buffy morosely stared at the pretty box for several moments before releasing an inaudible sigh. Ah…I love this man…demon…creature…whatever he is. I love him. So why do I continue this useless game of conscience?

Untying the delicate silver ribbon, she was unable to suppress the tingling of unwanted excitement inside. Angelus had gotten this for her. It could be a priceless jewel or small flower he plucked off the side of the road, but whatever it was it would inspire the same amount of joy within her heart.

Lifting the sturdy lid, Buffy’s nose was immediately seduced by gentle tendrils of scent wafting out. Reaching in she pulled out a small, but exquisitely made bottle of perfume. Uncapping the frosted glass lid, the beautiful liquid bouquet brushed her nose, beckoning her to anoint her body with its fragrance.

Gently setting the precious gift on the floor, Buffy went about opening up the other presents with barely contained enthusiasm. Soon finely made stockings, silver panties constructed with a wisp of silk fabric, beautifully arched shoes, precious hair adornments, a small handbag, and unknown, yet remarkably fine cosmetics lay sprawled across her crossed legs.

“My God, Angelus. Where did you get all this?” Her feminine wonder was matched only by the feelings of breathless awe that her vampire had picked out every gift with her in mind. Reaching forward she carefully pulled a large box across the floor and set about undoing the wrapping and ribbons. Unfolding the delicate tissue paper, Buffy let out a gasp of wonder. Nestled within its privileged folds lay an exquisite strapless dress.

Gently placing her other gifts on the floor, she stood up and held the silver creation against her body. Although the iridescent lines were simple, she knew it would be absolutely lovely on her figure. Spying the last box, Buffy carefully put her dress on the bed, making sure it was in no danger of sliding off, before crouching before her last token of vampiric affection.

With bated breath, she wondered at what else Angelus could’ve gotten her. Her slender brows creased in confusion as she pulled heavy brocade fabric out of the box. Holding it away from her Buffy realized that it was a cloak, not unlike the one he had given her once before. On that night…

Instantly her mind shied away from the night of her disgrace, instead wanting to keep it trained on the thorny beauty of her present love. It’s over. It happened. We’re different. I don’t need to keep thinking about it.

Trying to compartmentalize her feelings, Buffy desperately trained her eyes on the beautiful cloth in her hands, but the locket of grief refused to close completely. I’ll get over it. I know I will. Besides, it’s not like it was a stranger off the street. It was Angelus.

If the words rang with hollow consideration, Buffy refused to acknowledge it.

Focusing on the cloak, she saw how several different shades of silver thread were woven together to create a precious tapestry of elegance. Peering closer, Buffy recognized the griffins scattered across were the same as the one emblazoned on Angelus’ shoulder.

Rubbing her cheek against the material, she wondered silently how long he had held this for her. Walking over to the bed, she reverently laid it down next to the gown before making her way to the door. Locking it against any unexpected motherly appearances, Buffy set about preparing herself.

Scooping up the cosmetics, she quietly entered the bathroom and turned on the lights. Her blond locks were only slightly damp now, but it would have to stay that way because she couldn’t risk turning on the hair dryer. Pinning it into a chignon she remembered the hair jewels. Finding them on the floor she chided herself for being so careless. Plucking them up she walked back into the bathroom and securely pinned them into the mass of contained hair.

Tilting her head she eyed the sparkling light in the mirror with admiration. I wonder if they’re diamonds. Buffy remembered when she asked about the genuineness of the sapphires around her waist, Angelus had bristled with insult. They’re probably real, but either way I better not ask.

Applying the makeup with delicate strokes, Buffy became entranced with the delicious smell of translucent powder, glimmering shadow, and colored wax. Her hazel eyes become dark and mysterious beneath the inky paint, her skin perfectly pale with a hint of shimmer, and her lips ripe and luscious with the barest hint of red.

Walking back into her room, Buffy applied the perfume at all her pulse points. Looking down, she slowly parted her thighs and boldly scented the dark curls hiding her feminine treasure. Hiding the bottle, she then slipped on the undergarments, realizing the stockings would stay firmly in place courtesy of discreet bands of elastic.

Staring at her image in the mirror, Buffy’s breath caught. She was undeniably an erotic sight to behold. The chains around her waist made her look decadent, especially with only a tiny thong and silver stockings.

Putting on the dress with hushed wonder, she delighted in the sensation of the light material settling over her body perfectly. Slipping her slim feet into her shoe’s delicate arches, Buffy adjusted the hem of the dress until she was satisfied with the effect. Even though the waist was fitted, she couldn’t see the outline of her chains through the fabric. Shifting this way and that, her mouth couldn’t resist the temptation to impishly smile.

Reverently settling the cloak across her bare shoulders, Buffy adjusted the intricately hammered clasp before gazing upon her reflection with wonder. I look like a princess! At no other time before did she wish to have born in another era where women had the ability to wear such utterly gorgeous clothes all the time.

Picking up all the wrapping and ribbons, Buffy stuffed them in her closet so she could get rid of the evidence later. Giving her room one final glance, she was satisfied that everything was as it should be. Eyeing her gown and then the window, she decided to walk out the back door this time. Remembering the handbag Buffy heard a small clanking. Opening it in curiosity, a bemused smile twisted her lips. Two gleaming stakes were nestled within.

Angelus…I swear I’ll never understand you.

Silently making her way out of her room and down the stairs, Buffy grabbed her keys and slipped them into her bag, hoping her mother wouldn’t wake up thirsty in the middle of the night and notice them gone.

Stepping out into the crisp winter night, she soundlessly made her way to Angelus’ lair. As she strode past one of many cemeteries, the Slayer felt the urge to perform her sacred duty. Looking at her costly attire, she thought, If I go I’ll end up dragging my dress through the mud.

Chewing on her lip she stared into the dark shadows, imagining a legion of hungry vampires just waiting for her to walk by just so they could suck innocent Sunnydale dry. Giving her beautiful gown one last wistful look, Buffy set her jaw in determination and entered the graveyard. Although Angelus was confident his order against attacking her was enough, he failed to miss the reality of her calling.

It’s not about me.

An hour later Buffy came out slightly dusty and her heels were scuffed and scratched from leaping on headstones. However, seven vampires had been dusted and two would-be victims saved. Because of her attire one of them assumed she was an avenging ghost and that was fine with the Slayer.

The less who knew what she was doing, the better.

Although she wasn’t absolutely sure, it seemed safe to assume that it was past midnight. Smoothing her hair and dress Buffy attempted to wipe the dust off of her. She had barely broken into a light sweat during slaying so other than wiping her brow, she was as set as she was going to be. Scurrying through the streets she reached his building within minutes and buzzed the door, acknowledging the nervousness whispering in her veins.

All too soon an unknown doorman came and politely ushered her in.

Her heels echoed throughout the deserted foyer, making her wonder if the man had any idea where she was going and why. Feeling her cheeks flush, Buffy walked into the elevator and entered the requisite code. The purr of mechanical gears filled her ears as she ascended up towards her vampire lover.

As the elevator passed each floor, Buffy’s heartbeat grew louder and the ever-present lust stretched its sweet claws across her sensitive skin. Finally the doors slid open with an inviting hiss, revealing a darkened vestibule.

Stepping forward her sensitive ears attempted to detect Angelus, only to come up empty. The entire floor was surely as silent as the tomb he once crawled out of. Lifting the hem of her dress, Buffy carefully walked up the stairs and through the open doorway, before pausing at the top.

Numerous candles alighted every available surface, gothic in its dramatic appeal. Walking down each step, she gazed about the cavernous room, noting how different it looked every time she came here. One night it was eclectic and sophisticated, another coolly degenerate, and now mysteriously medieval.

Reaching the last step, Buffy finally spotted Angelus slouched on a large sofa. The dark vampire was slumbering with a peaceful look on his handsome face; his legs negligently sprawled with one laid straight and the other skimming the floor. As usual he was dressed in black, the velvet shirt partway opened to expose the smooth skin of his neck. Approaching him with fascinated caution, Buffy delicately ran the tips of her fingers across his unlined brow. He’s going to look like he’s in his 20s forever, while I’m going to get older and then die.

Tormented love darkened her hazel eyes. Tracing his perfect lips she gave into temptation and carefully sat next to him. Seeing that Angelus didn’t stir, Buffy lifted his head onto her lap gently, halfway expecting him to spring up with claws and fangs. Instead he nuzzled his cheek against her thigh and murmured, “Safe.”

Shock crossed Buffy’s expressive face. Does he know it’s me? Passing her fingers over strands of her lover’s silky hair, she felt a swell of emotion go through her heart. I may die, but it’s not going to be tonight. Leaning over him she continued to stroke Angelus’ head, content with touching him like this. A note of surprise flickered in her mind as she realized this was probably one of the first times she had been within 10 feet of Angelus without lust beating a merry tune within her body.

Minutes passed in tender devotion, Buffy’s fingers consciously memorizing the shape and feel of his devastatingly handsome face. The silence wove a net of rare intimacy, catching her completely within its silken grasp. I wish I could tell you about today. I wish I could share my happiness, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid you won’t understand or worse---won’t care. I’m so tired of always being afraid of my feelings. I’m the strongest girl on Earth and yet…

As if sensing her growing melancholy, Angelus stirred. Halting in her thoughts Buffy took advantage of the moment to press a gentle kiss against his mouth. He returned the caress immediately, nipping her lips lightly, while keeping his eyes closed.

Opening his eyes, Angelus found himself enraptured by the tender adoration he found in Buffy’s eyes. Falling into their exquisitely pure depths, the lines between reality and the dreamscape he had just traveled melded into one another seamlessly.

“Safe. You’re safe.”

“You came. They told me you wouldn’t.”

“Safe.”

“I’m sorry that I believed them.”

“I can’t risk you anymore.”

“Angelus?”

“Close your eyes, my love.”

BUFFY!!! The dark vampire’s eyes glittered dangerously and a snarl escaped his lips as he lunged towards her delicate neck.

Buffy’s surprised scream was broken as she found herself more than 100 feet away, crouched on the stairs and ready to fight or flee. A small part of her distantly wondered how she had moved so quickly without thinking, but she was too busy with judging what Angelus was planning.

Mirroring her position he felt the wildness recede as the room faded from the wrecked remnants of glass and steel into his Sunnydale residence. Shifting into his human visage, Angelus gracefully stood up and asked quietly, “What took you so fucking long?”

Warily rising to her full height Buffy answered, “Excuse me?”

“I specifically told you to be here by midnight and you come traipsing in here,” pausing he scanned the room and found a small, table clock. “After one.”

Narrowing her eyes in irritated caution she pointed out, “Is that all you have to say?”

Strolling towards the substantial dining table he replied, “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

“Well so am I!”

Finally looking over his shoulder he showed annoyance. “And why do you want one?”

Jabbing a finger towards her neck Buffy cried, “For trying to rip out my throat! Why else you…psycho!”

With a shrug he explained in an airy voice, “I was asleep. You’re a Slayer. Call it instinct.”

Screwing her nose up in frustration she muttered, “Yeah, whatever. I’m so out of here.”

Seating himself at the head of the table Angelus coldly stated, “If you take one step up I’ll make it so that you can’t sit down for the rest of the night.”

Turned halfway around Buffy felt hesitation war with defiance.

“You know I keep my word, lover.”

Staring at the open archway with mixed longing she fought the trembling in her womb and the fury in her mind. He gets nasty with me earlier, attacks me for no reason and then expects me to docilely scurry up to him as if nothing happened?

“My patience is wearing thin, Buff.”

“So is mine. I want to go home. I’m tired.”

“Bullshit.”

Who am I trying to kid? I would rather be here than go home. Heaving a resigned sigh she reluctantly trudged down the steps, hating that she always gave into him.

A snide chuckle drifted through the air, halting Buffy in her tracks. “I’m glad you came to the right decision, Baby.”

The smugness of his tone riled her instantly. Goddamned asshole! Flinging her head back she mentally swore, Fuck that! I’m tired of being subjected to his moods. If he can’t at least be civilized, then I’m out of here. Empowered by her triumph over Acrymydion the Slayer emotionlessly stated, “I don’t need to take this shit Angelus. Goodnight.”

With a mocking curtsy she spun on her heel and forced herself to walk, instead of run, away. The air became charged with fury before disappearing. Keeping her gaze trained ahead her ears strained to hear the slightest change of sound.

Angelus suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “I’m disappointed.”

Stopping she steeled herself for the battle which was surely about to ensue. “About what?”

“About your word. About how little respect you show for your word.” Crossing his arms he peered at her with barely veiled disdain. “Does the following spark the tiniest bit of recognition? Alright. I want in completely. Hmm?”

I agreed to submit completely. Shit! What was I thinking?

Pouncing on the recognition spreading across her face, Angelus cooed, “I see it does. Yet, not even one night later you’re already hell-bent on defying me.”

Dropping her head slightly, Buffy belatedly remembered her promise. I wanted to have the chance to relinquish all responsibility. Looking up into his inky eyes she felt her stomach flip with forbidden excitement as the frustrated anger melted away. Defiance and acceptance. Pain and pleasure. Good and bad. Slayer and vampire. Master and slave. Two sides of the same coin.

Tipping her chin with one finger, Angelus murmured, “Once again your pride dominates you. Tonight we’ll see if it remains a problem.” With an enigmatic smile he turned away.

Watching his retreating back, Buffy trailed after him like a moth to the proverbial flame.

He resumed his seat at the table, watching with mixed amusement as she drew to a stop. “Is something wrong?”

The wood’s dark surface drew her eye, bringing excruciating memory to the surface of her mind.

“Since you won’t tell me how it feels, maybe you’ll show all of THEM.”

“Not in front of them! You can’t do this!”

“Oh but lover---I am!”

“I’ll kill you! Do you hear me?! I’ll kill you if you do this!”

“Ssshh...baby, there’s no need to cry...there’s no need to be shy...you have such a beautiful body...you won’t answer my question with words...answer me with yourself...ssshh...”

“Angelus, I’m sorry...I’ll tell you whatever you want to know...I’ll say whatever you want me to say...Just don’t do this to me.”

“If only I could Buff---but you left me with no choice. We have to see the end of this. The time for talking is over.”

“What’s wrong Buff? You look so pale.”

Raising her eyes to meet his, she whispered, “I hate that table.”

Idly glancing over he murmured, “You do? Mmm…I can see why.” Smiling viciously, Angelus cheerfully added, “But no matter. Hop on, darling.”

“What?”

Gesturing with his hand he clarified: “Let me take a look at you. Stand up on the table.”

Breathing in deeply, Buffy clenched her hands once before releasing them. I agreed to this. I wanted to experience him like this. Calmly walking towards her destination she didn’t look at Angelus as she gracefully leapt onto the table, despite her clothing and shoes.

Leaning his head against the high-back chair with a negligent air, Angelus slowly whistled. “Oh Buff, look at what you’ve done to your pretty dress.”

Feeling her cheeks pinken Buffy didn’t need to look down to see what he was referring to. Her hem was completely dusty, her shoes scuffed with bits of leaves still clinging to her stockings.

“I couldn’t resist trying to turn you into a lady, but my little Slayer had other ideas, didn’t she?”

Raising her chin a bit, Buffy replied, “Dirty clothes come with the territory.”

Dark amusement flared across his ageless features. “There’s no need to raise that delightful chin at me, lover. I’m well aware of your values.” Reaching out to inspect her cloak he asked musingly, “So tell me. Did they give you any problems?”

Glancing down at Angelus’ silky head, she answered, “They fought back.”

Flicking a patch of caked mud off, he slid his gaze upwards. “How many did you stake?”

“Seven.”

A beautiful smile curled his lips while his eyes brightened with an unnamed emotion. “Do you like your gifts?”

Reaching out with a small hand, she cupped his lean cheek and sincerely answered, “I did. Thank you. They were beautiful.”

Accepting the caress, Angelus replied, “I’m glad to hear that.”

Expecting the usual arrogant answer, Buffy was taken aback. “Really?”

“Really.” Standing up he lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his mouth across the back delicately. “Alright, lover, now I want you to take it all off.”

He wants me to take off all my clothes with him just watching? Hesitating for only a moment, she reached up to undo the cloak’s clasp, feeling it slide off her shoulders before hitting the table with a muffled thud. There isn’t a part of me that he hasn’t seen or touched---why should I struggle against it? Reaching behind she unzipped the dress and stepped out of it a mere second later. Modesty dominated her expression, causing Buffy to drop her gaze. Slipping her shoes off, she bent down at the waist to roll her stockings off.

Finally finished, she resisted the urge to cross her arms over her breasts and instead waited for Angelus’ next command. The minutes took on a sluggish pace as she stood there in absolute silence. What is he waiting for? Unable to stand the speculative stillness any longer, Buffy asked, “How did you get the cloak? I mean, how did you get the embroidery done?”

“Spider demoness.”

“Spider demoness?”

“Hmm, yes. She’s quite talented, wouldn’t you agree? Myrna was able to produce all this within a couple of hours.” Arching a dark brow he sternly warned, “Which, by the way, she’s completely off-limits to you, Slayer.”

Bristling she replied, “I wasn’t aware you were my Watcher.”

A cold smirk twisted his lips. “I wasn’t aware you were in position to argue with me anymore.”

“Personal and professional lives are separate. I’m not going to spare your…friends…just because you tell me to.”

“Why not? After all, I did just that for you.”

“That was different.”

Sighing heavily, Angelus rolled his head back and shouted, “Buff…Buff…Buff! Why are we having this FUCKING conversation again?” Pinning her with a disgusted stare he stated, “I’m really getting tired of going over the same information over and over again. It bores me.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy quietly replied, “Then quit trying to control everything I do.” Why am I baiting him?

Angelus merely stared at her for several minutes, never changing his expression or his position.

Trying to hold his unblinking black gaze, Buffy could feel her defiant bravado fade, before it returned. He doesn’t tell me what to do when it comes to slaying.

“You say tomato and I say---get your ass back on that table!” Satisfied when she immediately froze Angelus stood up, stroked his chin, and smiled. “Lover, this is foreplay for you, isn’t it?”

Taken aback she shook her head and answered, “No it’s not.”

“Of course it is.” Lightly running his finger up her inner thigh, he grinned devilishly when the sweet scent of arousal permeated the air. “Your just like the reluctant lady---the more you say no now, the wetter you’ll let yourself get later.” Slapping her thigh with vicious force, Angelus purred, “Which is fine as fine gets, except that you no longer have the privilege of false denials just to soothe your conscience. We gone past that stage now.”

Hissing from the sting of his large hand, Buffy gritted out, “I’m not spitting false denials. I agreed to be yours, but not to give up my slaying.”

Stepping back Angelus tilted his head, watching her fingers gingerly stroke the spot of his playful violence. “And your slaying involves slaughtering all who did not have the fortune, or misfortune, to be born with the correct DNA.” Picking up her dress he flung it in her face as he finished with, “Even elderly demonesses who hold no grudge against humans, who in fact adore providing them with unique creations to accentuate their innocent beauty.”

Catching the gown before it hit her, Buffy guardedly asked, “How do you know? You’re a demon and so is she. Maybe you just haven’t---”

“Haven’t what? Haven’t seen the darker side of Myrna?” Caustically laughing he muttered, “She truly is as sweet as a grandma should be, Buff. She hasn’t needed to feed for a couple of millennia and even before she was more of an avenging angel sort.”

Angelus is confusing me. Giles has told me time and again all demons were evil. He drummed into my head that my calling is to protect humans from demons. Good demons don’t exist. That’s what he’s told me.

Suddenly memories of the fight she had with Elissa came to mind. “Pimps, psychos, drug dealers---those sound like upright citizens to you? They deserve to die.”

“Says who? You can’t go around deciding who lives and dies!”

“But you can? You can decide that I deserve to die because I’m not human like you?”

“She’s the last of her kind, lover, and do you know why she hasn’t died?”

Feeling her stomach churn with an emotion akin to guilt, she answered, “Why?”

“Because she mourns the fact that there will be no one left to create and inspire. Her passion in life is to spin silk to be worn by the overpopulated beings who live on this rock. Do you really think that the most magnificent fashion coups were created by you humans? Please.”

Clutching her arms, Buffy whispered, “You really do hate humans, don’t you?”

Instantly Angelus shot back with, “You despise all demons as well!”

Swallowing her sadness, she came forward, reached out with one hand, and stroked his angry face. “Not all demons.” Gazing into his eyes, she dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I love one particular demon more than anything else.” I don’t want to fight anymore. I can’t take it all in. I’m turning gray and I can’t see the black and white.

Feeling his ire melt away, Angelus stared down at her bend head, and irritably sighed. We’re like scorpions who circle and sting each other. She’s my mistress, I’m her lover, yet we can never see each other like that. Stroking her naked back with one hand, he felt the dream haunt him, the sight of Buffy’s face paling into death shaking him to the core.

No matter how much he wanted to fight it, she was burrowing deep within his being, becoming as natural a part of him as his fists and fangs were. Lifting her off the table, he kissed her pink mouth gently, enjoying the feeling of her small hand entwining within his hair.

Running his hand down her waist, Angelus encountered the delicate chains. Pulling on them lightly, he grinned in masculine appreciation as the sound of her moans sensuously entwined their silken arms around his mind. Running his lips across her smooth shoulder, he inhaled deeply and thought, She’s the sweetest creature I’ve ever had. Even though I’m a monster, even though I’ve treated her with vile affection, she loves me. And I need that. I don’t want to need her, but I do. I’ll never tell her, she’ll never know, but I need her. I need her love. I need her to be human…forever.

“I can’t risk you anymore.”

“Angelus?”

“Close your eyes, my love.”

Tossing her on the table with rough precision, he ignored Buffy’s gasp of surprise. “Angelus?”

“Ssh.” Closing his mouth over hers, he swallowed all her cries of distress. Fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, Angelus grew impatient and ripped it off. He needed to be inside her.

“Mmm…no…st…Ang…not…here!” Pushing him away, Buffy scrambled from beneath him. Wiping her mouth she shook her head and cried, “Not here. Not on this table.”

“Especially on this table.” Crawling over her naked body, he used gentle persuasion instead of violence to keep Buffy still. Feathering his kisses over her brow, he murmured sweet declarations of adoration, while his hands eased her remembered fear. I will take away the memories---for us both. I know I can.

Burying his mouth against the flesh of her neck, the dark vampire silently ordered for her capitulation. Buffy’s limbs began to tremble, from desire and fear, whispering messages of frozen hesitation.

Staring up into the painted ceiling, she remembered the feelings of helplessness and betrayal. Although Angelus’ mouth and hands were gentle and non-threatening, she could almost hear the cold laughter echoing in her ears.

“I’m so excited to see this...”

“I wonder if he’ll make her bleed...”

“Of course he’ll share her! Angelus is the perfect host...”

“You should’ve seen his palace in St. Petersburg...”

“Hold onto me. Let go of the hole inside your heart. Replace it with something good, something free.”

His whisper was so understanding, so tender Buffy could feel the tears form in her eyes. “It’s not as easy as that. Laying here now I can’t believe that I ever let you touch me again. You took my dignity. You made me your whore in front of them. Every one saw me.”

Lightly clasping her chin, Angelus passionately declared, “I proved you were mine! I protected you from their plots, Buff, in the only way that would make a difference. Do you have any idea how many enemies you have simply by being the Slayer?” Why am I admitting this to her?

Staring up into his black gaze, she searched for a glimmer of malicious deceit, only to come up empty. He sounds as if he really does care for me too.

“We’ll create a new memory, lover. Something pure, something just for us.” Brushing back the lone tear sliding down her cheek, Angelus kissed each of her eyes, persuasive in its simplicity.

Her heart hammered like a caged bird fluttering its wings in the ghostly dream of freedom. “Something new.”

“Something new.” Touching her body with delicate strokes, Angelus worshipped every inch of Buffy, reassuring her when she needed it, all the while distancing the pain of memory with his intoxicating lust.

Hazily looking down, she shuddered with desire when his cool lips closed over her nipple. Arching against his beautiful mouth, Buffy pressed his dark head closer, gasping when he scraped his teeth across the point. Sliding her thighs open, she could feel her hips shifting with pent-up desire.

Rolling her head to the side, Buffy caught the ghostly images of another night, one where several creatures watched her fall with such cold fascination. Clenching her eyes shut, she silently chanted, Something new. Something new. Something new.

“I’m so excited to see this...”

“I wonder if he’ll make her bleed...”

“Of course he’ll share her! Angelus is the perfect host...”

“You should’ve seen his palace in St. Petersburg...”

Petting the silky hair between her rigid thighs, Angelus murmured in a soothing tone, “It’s alright now. Relax. Tonight is ours. No one else’s.”

Nodding her head, Buffy gasped in tormented pleasure as his mouth settled over her hip, biting it just shy of bloodletting. Her heart swelled with tragic adoration as she thought, Why does he want this for us?

Soon Angelus pushed her thighs wider, spreading them for his habitual feast. Leaning forward he ran his tongue along the alluring slit, parting her easily for more decadent play. When Buffy’s fingers dug into his naked shoulders, he felt a reassurance he was unaware of needing.

The scent and taste of her already memorized, Angelus nonetheless pressed his face closer, intoxicated to the point of dizziness. Being with her was becoming a dangerous obsession, but he couldn’t stop himself---didn’t want to stop himself.

Rising above her, he found himself swooping down to kiss her fears away, needing her to forget his violation, instead wanting her to remember their pleasurable torments. Whispering, “Keep your eyes open,” he entered her with thorough gentleness. What’s happening to me? Why am I becoming so weak?

The answer came when Buffy moaned, “I love you…oh…I love you.”

Lying full-length on top of her, Angelus covered his mistress completely, enthralled with the sensation of her legs entwining alongside his. Thrusting inside her silken prison, he could feel her small feet sliding his pants down before her hands clasped his naked backside.

Biting back a cry of animalistic pleasure, Buffy sensed the specters of the past slip away under Eros’ cloak. Resting her head against his neck, she curled her nails into the smooth flesh, ravenous for his body. Boldly she demanded, “Harder.”

Complying with her request, Angelus could feel his blood spark to life. Although his intentions had been to brand her insides with gentleness, apparently she craved something different.

Cupping her flushed face with both hands, he nipped her reddened lips and smirked when her cries grew louder.

Glazed from passion, she whispered, “Faster.”

Planting his hands flat on the table, Angelus worked his hips, angling them to bring his lover the most satisfaction. Something new. Something just for us. The thoughts crashed into his mind obsessively, stirring an emotion he loathed even more than weakness: fear.

Fear stalked him, mocking Angelus with its very presence. He winced as Buffy’s little nails raked across his chest. She had become quite the hellcat in her passion, thrashing beneath him with a desperation mirroring what lay in his breast. Raising her thigh, he thrust into her, fiercely trying to outrun the wretched terror clawing inside his breast.

Sliding out of Buffy, he smiled tightly at the sound of her pretty distress. Lying on his back, he roughly placed her on top. He watched as she clasped him without hesitation, positioning his cock so it could slide smoothly inside. Gripping her bottom, he felt her silky hair tickle his face as she pressed her chest against his.

Peppering his chin with kisses, she moaned unashamedly, delighted with their carnal play. I love him. I love this. I’ll die without him. Pushing herself up, Buffy leaned back and rested her hands on his thighs. The world sped by in a dizzying display of emotion while she worked furiously upon his shaft. Angelus’ moans filled her ears as her breathless cries mingled with his, creating a private symphony of passion.

Looking down with all the love in her heart, Buffy brushed his hair back and whispered, “I need you. I’ll always need you.”

Triumph should’ve dominated his mind, but instead the fear exploded within his gut. I’ll always need you too. No! Bullshit! Why the fuck can’t I shake this off? What the hell is wrong with me? His visage immediately shifted, sharp teeth glinting dangerously in the candlelight. Before Buffy could react, Angelus flipped her over and entered her roughly.

She’s just a fucktoy, a pretty fucktoy, and I’ll fuck her like one to prove it.

Pounding away at her small body, he could smell his mistress’ arousal spiking, flooding him with her secret wetness and signifying her pleasure at his treatment. Reaching down into his pocket with one hand, he slipped out the small vial of lubricant.

“Angelus! Oh…yes…please…ah…please!”

Flicking it open he poured the oil onto the one part of her he had yet to claim. He felt Buffy’s body stop its sensuous movements, bewilderment lacing her one softly spoken word. “Angelus?”

Rubbing the liquid into the puckered ring of flesh, he began a deliberate rhythm with the tip of his finger, keeping the golden chain crossing between her legs out of the way.

“W-What are you doing?”

Ignoring the growing fear in her voice, Angelus barely slipped the tip into her, smiling in dark satisfaction as her hips shuddered and her arms collapsed. The sight of Buffy’s ass rising in the air aroused him tremendously, but something was still missing. Although he was in her and the final prize was presented to him in such a beautiful fashion, it felt…empty.

This was not how he had imagined deflowering this last bastion of virginity. Buffy would’ve been on her back, surrounded by the most precious of all linens to soothe her skin, while he would’ve taken minutes, hours even, to evoke the depths of her lust. Upon reaching the pinnacle, Angelus would’ve watched her lovely eyes dilate as he took her virginity, rejoicing in the knowledge that this part of Buffy was HIS.

Not Angel’s, but his.

Instead she was on the same table where he had defiled her in his twisted method of affection and power, while his face was not that of a passionate lover, but rather that of a remorseless monster.

“Safe. You’re safe.”

“You came. They told me you wouldn’t.”

“Safe.”

“I’m sorry that I believed them.”

“I can’t risk you anymore.”

“Angelus?”

“Close your eyes, my love.”

SHIT! Slipping out from her body, his face melded into the human mask he wore as he pulled his pants up. Carefully tossing Buffy over his shoulder, Angelus made his way towards his chamber, viciously cursing his weakness when he stroked her thigh because he sensed his lover’s wariness.

Nothing was going right. The nightmares would not let him go and the vampire was at a humiliating loss as to what to do with them. Setting her down gently onto the massive bed, he systematically released the bed curtains, enclosing them within a velvet cave.

Sliding off his pants, Angelus longed for the nights when all he wanted to do was fuck her. He cherished the memories of Buffy dragging herself from his bed, sore and emotionally fragile because of guilt. Joining her on the bed, he could no more stop his hands from tenderly moving down her waist than he could command his body to need oxygen.

Giving himself to their passionate kiss, he could feel the wariness lapping at the edges of his consciousness, whispering words that made no sense. His thoughts came to halt when her soft voice whispered in his ear.

“What’s wrong?” Not giving Angelus a chance to answer, Buffy admitted, “I can feel something’s wrong with you. You’re not calm. Something has you worried.”

Forcing the smirk to twist his lips and the arrogance to resound loudly within each word, the vampire answered, “I don’t worry about anything, Baby. Now stop talking and let me fuck you.”

Before she could let loose to the exclamations matching her sudden frown, he pushed her legs apart and entered her with one fierce thrust.

“Aaahh!”

Entwining his hand in her blonde hair, he fell into his feral side, shutting out notions of fear and emptiness. Losing himself in the safety of lust, Angelus hammered away, knowing Buffy would soon find satisfaction with his body.

Within a few short minutes she could feel her legs tense as they crept further up his waist. Clawing away at his shoulders, she leaned up and clamped her blunt teeth into his neck, biting down as the delicious tremors took control of her womb. Loudly keening her release, Buffy feverishly wrapped her arms around Angelus’ neck, pulling him tightly to her in the hopes of never having to let him go.

Please. Let me have a chance to keep living. I don’t want to lose this.

Hearing his lover reach satisfaction, he quickened his pace, driving every inch of his cock into her, needing to bury himself so deep that they’d always keep a piece of each other. No. I’m a demon. I am not like Spike. I’m not that fucking weak! Feeling his balls tighten, he closed his eyes in ecstasy as Buffy retained her bite.

The exquisite pleasure was consuming, washing away acrid memories of death and destruction while giving Angelus the illusion of something better. Clutching her slim body to his, he buried his head next to hers and gutturally growled his release.

Several seconds passed, her chest heaving while his stayed unnaturally still. Stroking his back with gentle fingers, Buffy stared up into the darkness and wondered at the feelings plaguing her earlier. He was lying and she knew it within the depths of her soul. But he won’t tell me what’s wrong.

Unsure of what to do, she reflected on their experience on the table. A slight blush crossed her face as she remembered the fleeting pleasure she underwent when Angelus had been rubbing her. Before she could rein back her question she asked in curiosity, “Why did you stop?”

“Hmm?”

Stilling her hands, Buffy repeated, “Why did you stop?”

“Because you weren’t ready.”

“I was too!” Watching him rise above her, she could feel her face flushing beneath his penetrating gaze. “I mean…it was feeling…well, nice.”

A smirk crossed his lips while his hand played with the delicate links encompassing her slender waist. “Oh really?” Several seconds passed in ripe speculation before he released the chain. “It’s time to sleep.”

Surprise flitted across her expressive face. “Sleep?”

Pulling the covers back with one hand, he effortlessly hoisted Buffy beneath them. “Yes, sleep. You have school tomorrow, don’t you?”

Shifting her head on the pillows, she mumbled slowly, “I do, but isn’t it kind of early?”

“Greedy bitch.” Squeezing her breast tightly, Angelus leaned down and unceremoniously sank his teeth around her nipple. Buffy’s high-pitched scream sounded loudly in his ears as the blood eagerly rushed up and filled his mouth. Sucking strongly, he listened for his mistress’ notes of orgasmic bliss with satisfaction.

Once Buffy’s cries subsided into low moans of tormented bliss, Angelus withdrew his fangs and lightly kissed the tip of her reddened nipple. Brushing back her hair, he took little sips from her trembling mouth and murmured, “Now go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for school.”

Feeling her eyes close from exhaustion, she mumbled, “But how will I get there in time?”

Tucking Buffy in with a gentle hand he answered, “Your legs. You can make it there within seconds now, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Yawning widely, she pulled the blankets over her shoulder and curled her body towards Angelus. I hope he remembers or my mom will flip when she finds the bed empty. Mom. Sitting up, she didn’t bother to hold up the covers as she archly said, “There’s something I wanted to ask you. Why is it that Mom has your number, but I don’t?”

His laughter held a note of mockery as he answered, “Because she needs it. You don’t.”

“Why the hell not!”

“Because I’m your tutor, Buff. She needs to get a hold of me whenever she sees fit. It’s part of the hassle of training a brat like you. Now go to sleep.”

“Give me your number.”

“Maybe.”

“That’s so crappy, Angelus! I’m your…well, you know…and it’s---”

Losing his inspiration to indulge her antics, he barked out, “Hush!” Brushing a hasty kiss across her forehead, he brusquely pushed Buffy back into the bed and brought the covers up to her neck. “Every night will see you by my side. Every day will be devoted to your life outside of my arms. It is not wise to let them cross, understand?”

Watching her nod sourly, Angelus crossly ordered, “Now…go…to…SLEEP!” Sternly waiting until sleep finally claimed her, he left the bed once the cadence of her breaths were deep and even.

Too weary to pace, he lowered himself into the same chair he had sat in not even a week ago while watching his delectable mistress struggle to free herself from his manacles. So much as happened since I chained Buffy up that night. I just wanted to see her cry for me, but then things…got out of control.

Dropping his head back he glumly wondered if that’s when his existence took a faulty turn. She had dared to beat the living shit out of me and I never punished her for it. Instead I held her in my arms while she cried true tears of grief wrought by love. Love.

Staring into the darkened shadows above his head, Angelus grimly admitted to himself he was one frown away from brooding. That was the night she first said she loved me. Although we were both covered in blood and filth, she had never looked as beautiful to as she did in that moment.

Wryly grinning he acknowledged that she also had words of hatred for him as well, but as the nights passed, Buffy’s lips gradually became sweeter and her heart pliant to the thought of letting him inhabit such a sacred box.

Is that where it went so wrong? Having her love fall into my hands was my ultimate triumph. To know I owned the Slayer completely…but to own something means to take complete responsibility for it.

Images of Buffy lying bloody and broken at his feet and near Death’s numb grasp blew across his mind, disrupting the illusion of tranquility settling across his shoulders. Buffy was almost assassinated and I still don’t know who fucking did it!

Although he wished for that bastard Brit to be the one holding the reins on this particular piece of dirty work, Spike was clean. All of Angelus’ informants could attest to that. Closing his hand into a fist, the vampire could feel the ever-present fury bubble up to the surface. Why can’t she just be a normal girl? Then I could take her away from here, whether she liked it or not.

Realizing where his thoughts had trespassed to, Angelus let out a long string of curses before glancing back to see if he had woken Buffy up, and then hissed an even longer series of profanities at his actions. She’s consuming me. One tiny girl with a mouth too big for her own good---and my sanity---has completely obsessed me. What am I going to do?

The hours passed, blackest night fading into rosy dawn, before the answer came to him. Gracefully standing up, Angelus walked back towards the bed and pulled the heavy drapery aside. Staring down into his mistress’ sleeping face, a hard smile twisted his lips while a ruthless smile lit his eyes.

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