Buffy sighed from the back seat as she met the May Queen's irritated gaze in the reflection of the rearview mirror. "I'm sorry Cordelia. My mom has a sudden business trip and she didn't have time to come back to the hospital to get me."
"And Buffy's knee isn't healed yet," Willow pointed out. "She couldn't have made it to a bus stop. And since you were already dropping Buffy off, it seemed kind of silly not to drop me too. After all, if I wasn't here, you'd have to help Buffy to the door."
The irritated brunette scowled impatiently at the two girls. "Giles could have driven you," she snapped.
"Dead alternator," the Slayer informed her sympathetically. "But on the bright side, he didn't come crying to you; he sent us instead."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Fine. We're here. Let's get you inside before anybody sees me with you two losers." She swung out of the car and waited impatiently as Willow opened her door and sprang to help Buffy out of the back seat.
Willow eased Buffy's arm over her shoulders, supporting the wounded Slayer as they slowly headed up the walkway and then carefully up the porch steps.
Buffy hopped, each movement a sharp jolt through her injured joint, but she grit her teeth and kept silent.
The brunette cheerleader trailed behind them.
"You can give me more of your weight," Willow assured her best friend. "Unless you don't trust me to support you," she added in a reproachful tone.
Buffy sighed wearily, knowing that the redhead was still hurt from being excluded during the earlier discussion with Giles, but geez, every word out of Willow's mouth made it seem as if Buffy was planning on lying to the Watcher. Cordelia's catty remarks certainly hadn't helped the situation either.
Buffy pushed open the unlocked front door and the three girls went inside.
"Buffy, honey," Joyce paused as she settled her suitcase and leather portfolio down by the desk next to the staircase. "Are you still having trouble walking?" she asked in a surprised tone. "Are you sure you're okay? It's nearly one o'clock; that's almost eight hours since you fell. You should really be able to put your weight on that leg by now."
Yeah. Buffy thought so too, but she still couldn't. Had she still been a normal human girl, the young Slayer had no doubt that she would have been tucked up nice and tight in a cast by now, but as the Slayer, she was allowed as little hospital attention as she could get away with, lest the good doctors discover her increased supernatural healing.
The honey-haired woman glanced at her watch then looked at her limping daughter, who was leaning heavily on her redhaired friend. "Maybe we should go back to the hospital and have them x-ray your knee. It could be broken. I can delay my flight until tonight: take a red-eye."
"Kind of makes my giving you a ride home pointless," Cordelia muttered under her breath resentfully.
"It's fine," the young Slayer responded as she painfully made her way into the living room, holding tightly to Willow's shoulders. "It's just a bad bruise."
Joyce stared doubtfully at her. "Sweetie, now is not the time to put on a brave front. I've got a shipment of art being held in New York City Customs until I show up with original documentation to prove that it wasn't smuggled out of it's country of origin, and I have a plane to catch - in L.A. no less, in about four hours. If you're hurt bad, I need to know now."
"Mom," the blond girl interrupted firmly as she and Willow hobbled closer to the oasis of the couch. "I'm fine."
The older woman continued to eye her daughter with misgiving. "No," she decided reluctantly. "It's probably broken. It's bad enough I have to go so soon after your flu and after this whole nightmare with Angel, but I absolutely cannot leave you alone for five days with a broken leg. I know Willow's mom said it was alright for her to stay here while I was gone, but now your knee...I can't leave you until I know for sure that you're going to be alright. If that knee's broke, we have to get it taken care of before it starts to knit improperly and you're crippled for life."
Buffy gritted her teeth, knowing what she was going to have to do. She broke into a cold sweat just thinking about it, but she was going to have to convince her mother that she was just badly bruised and being a baby about it. Thank god she was wearing blue jeans and the older woman couldn't get a good look at the actual extent of the swelling of her joint.
She took a deep breath. The only way to look like her leg wasn't badly injured was to stand on it. She just hoped she didn't fall to the ground in a weeping heap and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was bad. Slowly the young Slayer shifted her weight from her left leg and Willow's shoulders to her injured leg; agony arced through her in an excruciating onslaught. She felt the blood leave her face as she turned cold and clammy with perspiration, but she remained standing and didn't crumple.
"See," Buffy said in as steady a tone as she could manage. "I'm fine. The knee's fine. It just hurts a lot."
That was an understatement. It hurt so badly she would rather beg a piggyback ride off of her worst enemy than put her weight on it ever again.
Joyce looked at her watch again then looked at her daughter's pale face. "Okay," she said hesitantly. "I should be back on Thursday, Friday at the latest. I want you to take it easy." She hurried over to kiss Buffy on the cheek. "If Angel comes around, don't talk to him, just call the police. There's plenty of food in fridge, the numbers are on the counter. Call if you have an emergency. I love you sweetie and I'll see you in a few days."
Buffy remained on her feet, unobtrusively shifting her weight to her left leg as her mother gathered up her bags. As the front door closed behind the older woman, the blond girl collapsed to the couch with a whimper.
Willow knelt anxiously at her friend's side, watching helplessly as the pain contorted her features. "Buffy?" she asked worriedly. She glanced uncertainly at Cordelia who watched the proceedings with an almost annoyed look.
The stylish brunette sat in the rocking chair and waited calmly for Buffy to get over herself so they could talk about the emergency they were faced with.
The diminutive Slayer waved her hand at Willow and breathed deeply. "I'm alright. I am alright. Just...just give me a minute." She panted softly as she laid back on the fluffy cushions, staring up at the textured surface of the ceiling. "Has she driven away yet?"
The red-haired hacker leaned over to peer out the gauzy curtains. "Yeah. She's driving away now."
"Thank god," Buffy whispered. "Pretending to be normal for her is killing me."
Long minutes ticked by as the slender blond girl got a handle on the pain throbbing relentlessly in her knee.
"Are you going to be okay?" Willow asked uncomfortably.
"Yes," Buffy lied, certain of no such thing.
"Okay," the redhead sighed in relief. "That's good, because it's like only six hours until sunset. Maybe you'll be healed by then."
"Yeah," Cordelia snapped shortly. "It would be nice if you took care of Angel tonight,"
The injured girl lifted her head and stared at the bitchy May Queen in disbelief. Was she being willfully blind to the situation? Did she truly not get the fact that Buffy had taken a serious injury that day? "Well, I can't take care of Angel tonight."
"Look, I know you don't want to kill your blood-sucking demon honey, but what you want doesn't matter," Cordelia stated unsympathetically. "You have to take care of him tonight. I think you'll agree that with what's happened to Xander that you've put if off too long already. It's all real simple. Xander's in the hospital - a public place. Angel put him there. And Angel could just walk in and kill him anytime. You can't let him kill Xander like you did -"
"Like I did Ms.Calndar?" Buffy interrupted in a flat tone.
Willow swallowed painfully. "She didn't say that."
"No," Buffy muttered bitterly. "But she meant it. You all mean it. And I didn't let," she cut herself off. She would not make excuses for what happened. Making excuses wouldn't alter the fact that Jenny Calendar was dead. "I can't take care of Angel. Not tonight."
"Well, you're the Slayer," the brunette stated coldly. "You're going to have to."
The injured girl glared at her friend's snooty girlfriend. "I can't do it tonight."
"Buffy - "
"Cordelia," Buffy rebuked sharply. "In case you haven't been paying attention, I can't even stand without wanting to throw up from the pain. I'm hurt bad enough that Giles, Giles, made me promise to stay in tonight and heal. There is absolutely no way I could fight. If I go out tonight, it would be suicide."
Willow swallowed again, her eyes filling with fear. "But - but what about Xander? He's in a public place? He's going to be stuck there for at least a weak. Angel could just walk in and - and kill him."
The blond girl sighed. "He won't."
"How do you know?" Cordelia demanded shrilly.
"He just won't."
"Buffy," Willow said in a reasonable tone. "You can't just sit there and arbitrarily say that Angel won't kill Xander tonight when he's helpless in a public place. He's already hurt him. How can you possibly think he won't go back to finish him off?"
"Because if Angel had wanted Xander dead he would have killed him last night," Buffy informed them calmly. "No," she went on in a more pensive voice. "Angel's done with Xander. He said what he wanted to say."
"What he wanted to say?" Cordelia repeated incredulously.
The blond girl nodded her head. "To me and to Xander."
Cordelia stared at her, horrified by her apparent indifference to Xander's precarious position.
Buffy looked from Willow's worried expression to the judgmental glare of the May Queen. "Look, I'll do what has to be done. When the time comes, I swear I'll do what I have to. But I can't do a thing tonight. Xander should be safe. I swear Will," she looked at the frightened hacker intently, "if I thought Angel had any more interest in him, I'd sit in Xander's room with a crossbow for the next week, but I'm positive that Angel's done with him. If everybody just stays in tonight, we should all be safe. If anything, Angel will be by here to see how I liked my 'present.' And the house barrier will keep him out, so you'll - we'll all be safe."
"The house barrier," Willow repeated thoughtfully. If she could cast a spell to protect a house and cast an Invited vampire out, why couldn't she cast a spell to protect Xander's hospital room? Buffy swore up and down that Angel was through with Xander, but what if she were wrong?
"Willow?" Buffy called the red head's wandering thoughts back to the present.
"What if I do a protection spell over Xander's room?"
"Oh, puh-lease," Cordelia sneered.
"No, really," Willow defended excitedly. "It could work. I cast that spell here and it keeps Angel, who was previously Invited, out of Buffy's house. So, why couldn't it work for Xander's room?"
"It's a public place," Buffy pointed out dampeningly.
"Not really. Hospital rooms are assigned to individuals, that makes them sorta private."
Like hotel rooms, Buffy thought. And look how well that turned out for Jenny's Uncle Enyos.
"So," Willow continued, "we bless the doors and windows, sprinkle some holy water and hang a couple of crosses and voila, Xander's safe."
"Yeah." Cordelia nodded, slowly getting into the idea. "Yeah," she said more firmly. "And then you can Un-Invite Angel from my car."
Buffy raised her brows as she looked at the two girls and sighed. It probably wouldn't work, but what would be the harm in letting them try? If nothing else, just having something to do would make them feel better.
"The Magic Shop should be open," Willow commented as she stood up. "Cordelia and I can drive down to get supplies. Oh, and we need to go by the library to get the book. And my house to pick up my stuff." The excited hacker paused in her plans to look at her injured friend. "Will you be okay by yourself for a few hours?"
"I'll be fine," Buffy reassured her, relieved at the idea of having some alone time to heal and to process everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. "You guys be careful. Stay away from dark places with sewer access, don't be out past nightfall and don't leave each other alone in any isolated places."
"I thought you said Angel wouldn't be looking for trouble tonight," Cordelia sneered at the delicate blond.
Buffy ground her teeth and forced herself not to react to Cordelia's spite. "He won't be," she stated evenly. "But that doesn't mean that if he sees you he won't take stupid behavior on your part as an Invitation to cause harm, and vampires never pass up Invitations."
"Stupid behavior?" Cordelia repeated in insult.
"Sewer access, out after dark and being alone," Buffy repeated in her best mom-tone. "Don't. Be. Stupid."
"No worries," Willow reassured the crippled warrior and cut off another argument before it could ensue. "No stupid behavior here. We'll get this done and be back before you know it."
~
Bufy heard the front door slam shut behind Willow and Cordelia as the two girls left on their mission to magically protect Xander's hospital room. She sighed in relief and flopped back on her bed, grateful that they had helped her upstairs to her room before they'd left; the last thing she'd wanted was to have to manage those stairs on her own.
The delicate blond stared tiredly up at her ceiling, enjoying the rare moment of non-movement. She wasn't obliged to be anywhere and she wasn't obliged to do anything; there was no homework that had to be completed, no house-hold chores that needed to be done and no obligation to go out and haunt the cemeteries in search of beasties to slay. For the moment, all she had to do was lay there and breathe, and hopefully heal.
Buffy inhaled deeply, enjoying the heady perfume of the roses that Angel had sent her the night before.
She knew that she should throw them away, but it was only the second time in her life that a man had ever sent her flowers. How pathetic was that? Seventeen years old and the only man to ever bother to send her flowers was a souless, murdering demon.
Well, she sighed. At least he had good taste.
She really didn't want to throw this bunch away. They were more beautiful than the last bouquet he had sent her and the note had definitely been better too.
The blond girl glanced over at her vanity to admire the lush beauty of the expensive long-stemmed red roses her souless ex-boyfriend had sent her, but the surface of her vanity was bare.
Buffy sat up, glancing around the room for her flowers, but the lingering perfume of their scent was the only sign that they had existed in the first place.
There was little doubt as to what had happened to her roses; her mother had thrown them away. She had given Buffy the one night requested and then tossed them out the next morning.
The Slayer scowled, angered by her mother's high-handed behavior. Sure the roses should be thrown away, but that wasn't her mother's decision to make, it was hers. The longer she thought about the decision that had been taken out of her hands, the angrier she got. The angrier she got, the more she wanted the forbidden velvety blooms her demon had sent her back.
Buffy got off her bed and gingerly limped out of her bedroom in search of her lost flowers.
She found them in her bathroom trashcan, half the stems broken, some of the petals mashed and the exquisite cut-crystal vase lay in fragments, shattered beyond repair at the bottom of the plastic container.
Buffy gingerly picked the damaged blooms out of the trash, shaking the slivers of glass free of the petals and leaves as she rescued each flower, and then dropped the precious long-stemmed beauty into the basin of her sink.
She hesitated, staring at the roses, knowing that she should just drop them back into the bin and forget that she had ever received them. They weren't from the man she loved, and neither was the note; they were from a demon.
The blond beauty ran her fingertip over a crushed bud. She had so few pleasures these days, she wanted to keep just one. And even if they came from a souless demon, the flowers were beautiful and they smelled good. She could pretend they were from Angel, her Angel.
No one had to know.
No one would know.
She turned on the light in the darkened room, the small window above the tub providing little illumination and then closed the door, locking it
Buffy hobbled to the bathtub and twisted the faucet marked H; she stoppered the drain in the tub. The hot water poured into the deep fiberglass basin in a glassy stream that quickly turned the small bathroom humid and steamy. She checked the temperature with her fingertips and adjusted the scalding water to a more tolerable temperature by adding cold water to the mixture.
She limped from the tub to her bathroom sink and knelt awkwardly to pull several items out of the cupboard. The cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, band aids and ace-bandage she dropped on the counter next to the sink; the vanilla scented bath oil she carried back to her filling bath and poured two full caps in.
As the tub filled, the young Slayer slowly stripped her torn clothing from her body, examining her wounds as she did so. She whimpered as she managed to get her shoes and socks off, then wanted to cry as she struggled to get her jeans off without banging her knee.
Her arms were covered in dark bruises in the shape of elongated fingers, the tip of each print culminating in a deep purple-hued puncture; Giles' earlier insistence in cleansing the wounds at the hospital had probably kept them from becoming infected. More bruises from fists and impacts decorated her ribs and belly, with a particularly dark one radiating over her hip and up her back. The hands-down worst of her latest round of war wounds though, was obviously the knee.
The knee joint was swollen to the size of a grapefruit and was, at present, the brilliant purples and blues of a midnight sky. On the plus side, despite her limp and the truly colorful quality of her blemishes, she was now able to put a little weight on the leg again without collapsing into a weeping pathetic ball.
The moist heat in the room was soothing, almost sauna-like and she sighed in enjoyment, already looking forward to sinking into the hot water.
The young Slayer moved to gingerly enter the tub but paused as her gaze fell on her roses. She froze, her mind filling with what she wanted to do with the roses.
It was wrong. She should throw them back in the trash.
She limped to the sink and gathered the flowers in her arms, using her sweater to protect her from the thorns. She carried the roses back toward the tub. She sat on the rim of the tub and rose by rose, pulled the buds from each stem and sprinkled the petals into the rippling bathwater.
No one would ever know. Her mother was gone, Willow wouldn't be back for a couple of hours and even if it were nightime, Angel's Invitation had been revoked. It was just a small secret indulgence.
Once the flowers were completely stripped, Buffy carried the naked stems back to the sink. She hid the naked greenery in the cabinet under the small basin and traded the antiseptic and cottonballs for tea candles and a lighter. Moments later, she turned off the bathroom light and allowed her forbidden decadence to be illuminated only by the soft glow of the candles.
Taking a deep breath, Buffy limped back to the tub and eased gingerly into her fragrant bath. The water was near to scalding, its heat seeming to reach through her pores and into her bones, slowly easing the tension from her muscles. The petals of her demon's flowers lapped against her skin like a thousand forbidden touches.
"Angel," she whispered longingly.
She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the heat of the water; it soothed her aches even as the perfume of the roses and the vanilla bath oil filled her senses. She sank deeper into the moist heat of the bath, submerging all but her face beneath the hot water. Her every breath echoed in her inner ear loudly, then that sound was drowned out by the rhythmic pounding of her own heartbeat.
Her mind drifted until she was almost in a trance, bewitched by the erotic decadence of her scented bath.
~
"Buffy."
A smile curved her lips as his soft whisper reached her.
"What are you doing?"
"Thinking of you," she murmured softly. She kept her eyes closed, concentrating only on the soft cadences of his voice, the soft tones that had always made her spine tingle with heightened awareness.
"This is an acceptance of the gift, my love," he warned her softly. "Do you understand? You've accepted his gift."
She pouted softly. "He is you."
"Not like you think. Buffy, look at me," he ordered sternly.
The young Slayer opened her eyes and looked up into her lover's dark gaze. She smiled, so very pleased to see him.
He was beautiful - as always. He towered over her bath, tall, broad and unbearably sexy, still wearing the leather pants that his darker half wore, but once more wearing the white cotton shirts he had favored. He was the dark god her heart ached to worship. He was the man she loved.
Angel looked at her cream and gold skin like a man starved.
She was surrounded by the scarlet petals that floated so thickly about her, erotically framed by the lush bounty so that only her raised knees and shoulders and head were visible.
"This," he swallowed thickly, as though he were having difficulty speaking. "This is an acceptance of my gift. Of his gift. The stems may be in the trash but these petals..."
Buffy dropped her head back on the rim of the tub, arching her throat in a seductive offering. "He'll never know," she purred. "You won't tell him and I won't tell him, so he'll never know. It'll be our secret." She reached out toward her dark-eyed lover and clasped his hand, drawing him down to kneel next to her and the tub full of rose petals. "Angel." His name was a prayer, a plea and a demand all rolled into one breathy syllable.
The delicate blond drew his hand to her lips, nipping at the long supple digits before she drew his fingers one by one between her moist lips to suck on them.
Angel's unnecessary breaths grew ragged, but he allowed her to continue with the subtle torture.
Buffy smiled bewitchingly and drew his hand down the vulnerable flesh of her throat, down past her collarbones, over the sensitive tips of her breasts, along the soft skin of her belly and down to the silky flesh between her thighs.
"I ache for you," she moaned.
Her lover groaned and bent to taste her lips as he pushed his fingers into the hungry chasm of her feminine flesh.
"I'll know," he growled softly as he stroked her moist flesh knowledgeably. "I'll smell it on your skin."
He plundered her lips demandingly and the Slayer bent willingly beneath his onslaught, pliant and eager for whatever her lover wanted from her.
Angel stroked the soft folds of her feminity gently, slowly, drawing out her desire until her hips were lifting to his every caress, demanding that he bury his fingers deep into the hungry core of her.
"Please," she whimpered against his lips, a soft prayer for his mercy.
He had no mercy, only an unending generosity as he slid his long fingers in and out of her grasping channel. The walls of her slick opening clenched at him, trying desperately to hold his invading fingers deep within her.
Buffy moaned and lifted her arms from the heat of her bath to twine around his neck. "Please," she entreated.
The vampire's only mercy was to circle her swollen clit with his thumb as he sped up the force and depth of his penetration.
She gasped, arching hard against his hand. Her nipples tightened to diamond hard tips that stabbed against the cool cotton of his shirt, rasping against the cloth; the smooth buttons tantalized her hungry flesh.
"Angel," she breathed.
The water in her bath churned. The rose petals slid against her in a thousand perfumed touches, clinging to her skin erotically.
Her body trembled with the anticipation of the incipient explosion. The tension gathered in every nerve of her body until she was drawn so tight with the hunger and the need to drive herself down on Angel's knowledgeable fingers she felt she would shatter.
The explosion rolled over her, pulling her further under the ensouled vampire's spell and she clutched him desperately, digging her polished pink fingernails into his shoulders as her entire body shook from the aftermath of her pleasure.
"Angel," she whispered raggedly, kissing his lips worshipfully.
Her dark lover stroked his fingers soothingly in her hot silky flesh, then withdrew his hand from between her thighs; she whimpered softly at the loss. He drew his hand up along her still trembling body, flicking the jewel-hard tips of her breasts before he grasped her hair in his fist, drawing her up to his lips demandingly.
Her dark Angel kissed her deeply, his tongue stoking in and out of her mouth in the same powerful rhythm that he had used so recently to shatter her lithe body. "Leave the window open," he ordered her in a soft growl. "So we can smell you..."
~
Buffy jerked awake with a soft cry, water splashing as she shifted in the now luke-warm bath; the climax she had experienced in her erotic dream still danced along her nerve endings.
"Angel," the young Slayer whimpered softly, missing his comforting presence. She sat up and twined her arms around her legs, burying her face against her knees.
The ensouled vampire had been her light, her sun. Her world revolved around him, the warmth of his presence inspiring her, nurturing her into becoming the heroine worthy of his respect and devotion.
Her light, her sun had been eclipsed and now she dwelt in darkness, unhappy, alone and cold without his presence to warm her.
She wept in the rapidly cooling bathwater, pretending that it was only the water from the tub dripping down her cheeks and not tears.
~
Willow scanned the spell and held up each item as she came to the ingredient required, making sure that they had all the supplies required to seal Xander's room.
She glanced up as Cordelia slowed the car and turned into the parking garage below the hospital.
"What are you doing?" the young hacker asked.
"Park-ing," Cordelia informed her sarcastically.
"Whoa. The garage has sewer access. Buffy said stay away from places with sewer access."
The stylish brunette glared at the frumpy redhead in contempt. "It's sprinkling outside. Rain makes my hair frizz. Besides, it's like in the middle of the afternoon. Don't be such a worry wart, creepy-freaky is asleep."
Willow made a non-committal noise as the May-Queen parked her car. The two girls got out of the vehicle and headed into the hospital, determined to make Xander's room safe from the undead things that went bump in the night.
~
Angelus opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his room. For a moment, he was almost disoriented. He missed the cool tones and privacy of his basement apartment, a much more pleasant atmosphere than the burnt out husk of the factory. He really needed to find them a better lair, but he had been distracted.
Perhaps later he'd scout out that abandoned mansion he'd noticed on Crawford Street.
Drucilla cuddled against his side, stroking her cold hands along his bare chest and then lower, trying to illicit his darker attentions. The tall vampire shoved her away irritatedly, uninterested in his mad childe as anything other than a means to torture Spike. How could he possibly desire the maddened and child-like vampiress when somewhere out in the night was a warm-blooded girl whose very heat and passion scorched him?
He rose from his bed, stretching with a panther-like roll of his shoulders, before he strolled to the shower. The night was just beginning. He needed to clean up and find a kill quickly so he could focus the rest of evening on courting his golden goddess.
Doubtless she would still be at the hospital, doting on that worthless mongrel Xander.
~
"We have to hurry," Willow told the May Queen as she jogged into the garage. "It's already seven o'clock. We were supposed to be home by now?"
Cordelia scowled. "It's not my fault we couldn't start the ritual until after the nurse had given him his medication and then after he'd gotten his dinner."
"Well I couldn't very well explain what we were doing," Willow defended. "Oh, nevermind. Let's just hurry and go."
"What about my car?" the brunette demanded imperiously.
Willow glanced at her watch anxiously, then around the dimly lit garage. "I don't think now is the time."
"Just do it," Cordelia demanded. "We've got the ingredients, you've got the spell right there."
The red-haired hacker sighed, then decided to just do it. It would take less time to complete the ritual than to argue with Cordelia that it was safer to wait until tomorrow to do the spell.
"Oh," Cordelia muttered, checking her purse. "I must have left my keys on Xander's bedstand. You go ahead and get started. I'll be right back."
"But - " Willow watched as the May Queen disappeared quickly back into the hospital, leaving her alone in the isolated garage. "Crud."
She pulled out the Holy Water and began the spell quickly. She intoned the Latin carefully, sprinkling the blessed water over each door until she was back at the passenger door. Her voice rose and fell as she rolled the difficult intonations of Latin off of her tongue.
Slowly, she became aware of chill discomfort. She froze.
Willow closed her eyes and prayed softly. "Please don't let anybody be behind me," she whispered. "Please, please don't let anybody be behind me."
Trembling, she reached slowly behind her, trying to deny the fact that she felt a menacing presence. Her fingers touched the cool leather of a long duster.
"Please don't let it be Angel," she amended her prayer. "Please, please don't let it be Angel." Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to spin around and then plastered a sickly smile on her face as she faced the vampire with the angelic face. "Hey, Angel," she squeaked.
"Willow," he drawled softly, "Buffy around?"
The red-haired hacker flinched slightly. She didn't want to lie. If she lied and he caught her, he'd be upset. On the other hand, she didn't want to tell the mercurial demon that Buffy was at home and no where near her endangered self. "Ummm."
The handsome vampire smiled in mock concern. "Dark deserted place like this...pretty girl like you...something awful could happen to you. That would just destroy Buffy...If something happened to you."
She swallowed and her sickly smile slipped away. "Is - is something going to happen to me?" she asked weakly.
Angelus cocked his brow and inclined his head in a very uninformative way.
Willow cleared her throat and began to sidle slowly around the dark-eyed predator. "I've gotta go upstairs now."
"To get Buffy?"
She flinched again. "Buffy's...at...home."
"How unfortunate," he purred.
"I've - I've got Holy Water!" she said threateningly, holding the glass vial up.
The tall vampire glanced at the clear container. "Which you've already used."
"Oh," she said, tucking the ineffective weapon behind her. "Well, well, I've got a cross!" She tried the handle on the car, trying to get at said cross.
"Which is apparently in Cordelia's car. Which is apparently locked," he observed.
"Oh." She reached into her pockets, hoping to find something, anything which could be used to defend herself from the handsome vampire. "I've - I've got a pencil!" She yanked out the writing instrument and brandished it at him.
Angelus smiled, "It's mechanical." In a movement too fast for her mortal eyes to see, he snapped the writing instrument in two. He grasped her throat, then spun her around and pressed her against his chest. "And I've got a Willow. Shall we wait for Cordy?"
He backed up into the shadows of a nearby support pillar and waited with his trembling hostage for the egotistical brunette to make her appearance.
Cordelia pulled open the door and stalked across the garage. She pressed the button on her car keys, unlocking the doors of her vehicle. "Willow," she called absently as she opened her car door. "Willow are you done yet? I want to get home. You've delayed me long enough."
She slid into the car and inserted the keys into the ignition, waiting impatiently for the geeky little hacker.
Tap, tap, tap. The soft rapping on the passenger window annoyed her.
"Willow, it's unlocked. Just get in."
TAP, TAP, TAP.
"Willow," Cordelia snapped turning toward the passenger side.
Angel hunched over next to her car, Willow pressed to his chest as they peered in. The tall vampire lifted Willow's arm and waved a greeting at the May Queen.
Cordelia shrieked and lunged for the button to lock the car doors; Angel opened the door before she could reach it.
"Willow," Cordelia whispered sickly, already resigned to the young hackers death. "I'm sorry...Did you finish the protection spell?"
Willow nodded against the captivity of her throat cradled threateningly in Angel's right hand.
Angel sat partially in the car, pulling the redhead onto his lap as he grabbed hold of Cordelia's wrist, preventing the brunette from starting her car. "Cordelia," he drawled. "Two Invitations for a bit of fun in one night. How lucky can a vampire get?"
Neither girl responded to his question, both of them sickly aware of just what this vampire considered to be fun.
"Now, I'm going to let you choose how we proceed," he informed them calmly. "Do you want to live?" He waited for a moment. "Nod your head if you do."
Both girls nodded.
Angelus smiled and bent his head tenderly toward the captive girl in his lap. "Not you, Willow."
She whimpered.
"Cordelia," Angelus snapped authoritatively. "Fetch me Buffy. Bring her to the Bronze. Did you get that Cordy? Nod your head "
Trembling so hard she could barely do as he ordered, the May Queen managed to jerk her head in a semblance of a nod.
"Excellent." Angelus stood, maintaining his hold around Willow's throat. "Go now." He shut the door and stepped back as Cordelia started the engine and screeched away without a second glance back at the young hacker he held in his grasp. "So, Willow, it's just us. Would you like to get a drink? I'd like a drink."
~
The piercing ring of the phone broke through her slumber and the young Slayer slowly opened her eyes.
Her room was dark, signaling that night had fallen quite some time ago.
The ringing continued and blearily, Buffy rolled to her side and picked up the cordless telephone she had brought into her room after she had finally gotten out of her bath.
"Hello."
"Buffy!" Cordelia screamed. "Where the hell have you been? You're supposed to be at home, healing!"
Buffy frowned and rubbed her head, trying to wake up from her very deep nap. "I am home. You called me, remember?"
"The spell didn't work!" Cordelia exclaimed hysterically.
The Slayer snapped awake. "Is Xander okay?"
"Screw Xander!" Queen C snapped. "He was in my car!"
Buffy frowned. "Why was Xander in your car?"
"Are you even listening to me?" Cordelia shrieked. "Willow's spell did not work. Angel was in my car!"
"Oh. Where's Willow?" she demanded.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you! Angel has Willow!"
"In your car?" Buffy asked trying to make sense of the brunette's hysterical ranting.
"No!"
"So, Angel has Willow?" Buffy queried. "They are not in your car. They were in your car, but they're not now. So where are you?"
"In my car, a block from the hospital, coming to get you. I live if I get you."
Buffy blinked, tracking the brunette's agitated explanation carefully. "So, you're trading me for you?"
"And Willow!" Cordelia added indignantly.
"Did he say that?" Buffy demanded.
"No. He said to fetch you to the Bronze."
"Uh-huh." Buffy flipped the covers off of herself and stared grimly at her still swollen joint.
"Should I call Giles?"
"I call Giles," the Slayer told the panicked girl calmly. "How long until you get here?"
"About fifteen minutes."
"I'll be ready."
Cordelia inhaled, trying to regain her calm. "Buffy, you should have come to the hospital with us," she reproached her and then hung up.
Buffy glared at the phone resentfully. "And you shouldn't have stayed out after dark," she muttered.
She dialed her Watcher's number and quickly explained to her mentor what had happened - or at least what she understood to have happened.
"Giles," she whispered softly. "I don't know if I'm strong enough for this."
"The alternator to my car doesn't come in until tomorrow. Come and get me," he ordered her.
"Willow doesn't have time for that. I'll send Cordelia after she drops me at the Bronze. It's better if it's only Willow and I at risk rather than all four of us."
She hung up before he could protest.
The injured Slayer dressed carefully in stretch pants and a white long-sleeved sweater, not wanting her demon-lover to see the dark bruises that covered her arms. She bypassed most of her heeled shoes and picked out a pair of flat black boots so she wouldn't make her knee injury worse with the demands or a pair of heels and grabbed out her new red leather jacket.
She tossed the jacket on her bed and went to her weapons chest. The crossbow and quiver of bolts she slung over her shoulders. She placed at stake up each sleeve, then tucked one into the back waist band of her pants.
Satisfied with her arsenal, she tugged on the butter soft leather of her new coat. She stood in front of the mirror and arranged the crossbow so that it rode across her back under the jacket, hidden from prying eyes.
Hopefully she would get the drop on him with the crossbow and not have to fight him hand to hand. There was no question in her mind that tonight, he'd win any fight between them.
Cordelia honked from the driveway and the Slayer limped downstairs, trying to save her joint until the moments when she confronted Angel; the moments when she need to pretend like she wasn't crippled.
~
Cordelia dropped her at the front entrance of the Bronze and took off again with a squeal of tires before Buffy even got to the entrance of the club.
She opened the door and stepped into the crowded night spot. Music pounded and bodies swayed and pressed against each other. The aromas of bitter coffee, strong perfume and cologne assailed her.
Buffy walked through the club, searching for her best-friend and her psychotic ex-boyfriend.
~
Angel leaned against the wall in the alley behind the Bronze and kept his hand closed securely around the young red head's throat. "You don't think she stood me up, do you Willow?" he asked casually. "She's been rather distant lately."
"Uh. She's had a lot to deal with," the teen replied nervously. "What with Xander in the hospital and you turning evil and all."
"Hmm. Did she like the flowers?" he asked softly.
"She liked them."
"Why'd you change the locks Willow?" he murmured reproachfully. "I used to be able to watch my girl sleep, until you changed the locks. I miss that."
His tone of voice was deeply mournful; Willow reached up and comfortingly patted the hand wrapped threateningly around her throat. "She'll be here."
Buffy opened the door that led to the alley behind the Bronze and stood in the doorway, staring at her frightened friend and her handsome demon lover. "Willow," the Slayer sighed. "What did I tell you about nightfall?"
"Sorry," Willow squeaked.
"Hello, lover," Angelus purred, drinking in her presence. "Come out and join us."
Buffy stepped out into the dark alley and allowed the door to swing shut behind her. She walked carefully, forcing herself not to favor her aching knee.
The handsome vampire looked her over, his dark gaze roving over her possessively, as he took in her rather sedate choices in clothing. "Although I love to see you in leather, baby, I prefer you in my leather. Lose the jacket."
Buffy cursed under her breath and slid the red leather off of her shoulders and draped it over a nearby stack of pallets.
"Oh, lover," Angelus grinned as he took in the weapon she had strapped to her back and the quiver of arrows that peeked over her right shoulder. "Lose the crossbow and the quarrels."
She obeyed, laying the weapons next to her jacket on the pallet.
"And whatever stakes you've got up your sleeves."
Willow watched in despair as her friend extracted two stakes, one from either sleeve and placed them with the rest of her discarded arsenal.
"C'mon, Buff. I know you always carry three."
Buffy hesitated, all too aware that if she dropped that stake she had no way to protect either herself or Willow.
Angelus' hand tightened threateningly under Willow's chin. "Are you forgetting what we're negotiating here?"
"Angel, no!" Buffy protested, her voice thick with fear. The vampire held the small redhead firmly against him, cradling her face gently in his palm. "So fragile, so brief," he drawled, stroking the soft skin over Willow's carotid artery with his thumb. "It's so easy to snuff out a mortal life."
Buffy took a step closer to him. The handsome vampire watched her carefully, his dark eyes glittering with hunger. She shook slightly, wondering what type of hunger, then took another step closer to him, and then another. She walked slowly, as if she were approaching a wild animal.
"You don't have to kill her to make sure that my mind's on you," Buffy murmured softly, her green gaze caught in the velvety chocolate of his eyes. "You're constantly in my thoughts."
"That last stake, if you please," he reminded her firmly.
"You can't possibly expect me to be completely weaponless," she retorted.
Angelus' glanced down the length of her body, his eyes pausing at her breasts and hips before continuing to her booted feet. "Oh, you have weapons, Buff," he reassured her, his eyes focusing on her soft lips. "You just haven't figured out how to use them yet. Now, the stake."
She removed it from the waist band of her pants and tossed it back to the pallet, not looking to see where it landed.
Willow watched the drama unfold in sickened fascination, aware that her carelessness may have cost both Buffy and herself their lives.
"Please," Buffy cajoled. "This is between us. It's private."
Angelus grinned coldly. "You mean no witnesses?"
Willow gasped as his hand tightened signaling her impending death.
"I mean no outside influences," Buffy clarified quickly. "Just us."
"Nice try, baby."
The red-haired hacker felt him tense to kill her; Buffy couldn't stop it.
"I'm wearing your scent," Buffy blurted, hoping the confession would distract him from his cruel purpose.
The handsome vampire froze, intrigued by the statement.
"I threw away the stems," the Slayer explained, moving slowly closer. "Not the petals. I filled a bath tonight, lit some candles and bathed with the petals from your flowers sticking to my skin."
Willow blinked in shock. She did what?
Angelus smiled, pleased with the thought. "Come closer," he ordered.
Buffy took a few steps forward, her knee throbbed painfully, but was still not beyond the bounds of her tolerance.
"Closer," he sing-songed.
Buffy eased close enough so that Willow was sandwiched between her heat and Angel's cool body.
"Let me smell," he instructed.
"You can smell me already and we both know it," she retorted as she pushed up her sleeves. She extended her arm over Willow's shoulder and lifted the vulnerable crook of her elbow to his inclined head, baring her veins before him.
Angelus inhaled deeply, taking in the heady scent of the vanilla perfume she favored and the dizzying aroma of rose petals crushed against soft skin.
He shoved Willow to the side and snagged hold of his diminutive golden goddess. "Go inside, Will. Buffy will be along later. Curtis?"
The door to the Bronze opened and a minion appeared in the doorway, having obviously waited for his master's signal. He was a lean golden-haired creature of the night.
"Take care of Willow," Angelus ordered, already uninterested in the fate of the young hacker now that he held his golden girl in his arms.
Buffy braced herself against his chest and glared up at him. "No. I know what 'take care of' means."
Her lover smiled tenderly down at her, his dark eyes alight with cold amusement. "Fine. Curtis, buy the lady a drink. No harm is to come to her."
Willow hesitantly stepped toward the blond vampire that had opened the back door of the Bronze. She glanced back at her friend who was being held in a travesty of a lover's embrace.
"Buffy?"
"Go, Willow."
Curtis and Willow disappeared inside the club; the door swung shut, sealing the lovers back in the darkness of the night.
"Now," Angelus purred. "Let's talk about us." He turned and pressed firmly against her, pinning her lithe little body between the rock of the building and the hard place that was him. He pulled her wrists above her head, pinioning them with one hand.
Buffy trembled, all too aware that she was weaponless and unable to physically fight her demon lover. She balanced her weight unobtrusively on her left leg and wondered whether she would survive the night. No. That was unimportant. What was important was that Willow now had a chance to survive the night.
She was still beneath his grip, waiting tensely to see what he would do.
The tall vampire bent his head and nuzzled her temple, inhaling the fragrance that perfumed her skin and hair. He brushed his lips softly against her skin, neither kissing nor biting, just exploring before he trailed cool open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her cheekbone and then down to her neck; he paused when his lips were poised over the vulnerable arch of her throat.
Buffy gasped as he fisted his hand in the trailing locks of her hair. He abruptly pulled her head back, forcing her to offer that vulnerable pulse for his delectation; it was a startling repeat of the position that the Angel of her earlier erotic dream had held her in, slightly tantalizing in its familiarity.
His unneeded breaths fell across the pulse that throbbed beneath her jaw and Buffy panted, feeling more vulnerable than she had before. It was as if when he had smelled the flowers on her skin, he had gotten a peek into the sensual dream she had experienced during her bath and was now looking to enact it. She pulled weakly at his grip and then stilled as he growled warningly against her throat, letting her know that he would not tolerate refusal to his pleasures. Frightened, she waited to see just what his pleasure would be.
A pleased rumble vibrated in him, a vampiric purr that sounded both frightening and arousing. "Sensuality," he breathed against her pulse. "Touch." The tip of his cool tongue brushed over her fluttering pulse in a moist caress. "Tactile sensation can be a form of feeding."
His voice rolled over her skin like a sensual spell and her fear slowly ebbed away, replaced by a drugging lassitude and against her better judgement, she listened to the words that a demon whispered in her ear.
Satisfied that she would not struggle, the vampire released her wrists and her hair, freeing his hands for other far more interesting occupations.
Pinned by more than just the strength of his hard body, she remained as he had positioned her, with her arms stretched above her head and her body pulled into an offering curve.
"All the anticipation," he continued in a soft tone. "All the luxurious bliss and all the purring satiation of touch. To run my fingertips - my hands over your soft skin," he suited action to words, trailing his fingertips along her arms, just above the veins that throbbed beneath her flesh; her skin was more sensitive than it had ever been before and every brushing caress caused a tingling sensation that rippled through her slender body.
Her soft breaths soughed against his temple, rustling the dark locks of his silky hair. She trembled.
"To rub my cheek to yours and bury my face in your hair, near your pulse. To just wallow in the exquisite bliss of sensation. To listen to your heart pound for me."
Buffy listened to the soft hypnotic pull of his voice, feeling herself being drawn into his spell. It was nothing like the vampiric thrall that she had experienced with both Lothos and the Master; this spell was all Angel and she bent like a reed beneath his presence, content to be overpowered by his passion.
"He starved me for a hundred years before he met you," Angelus growled, allowing her to feel the vibration against her skin.
The diminutive Slayer moaned and quickly bit her lips, trying to repress the telling sound. Slowly, shaking, she lowered her arms. She grasped his shoulders, her pink painted fingernails digging into the hardened muscles of his biceps as she held onto to the dark predator for support.
The handsome demon smiled and then continued to weave his spell over the responsive girl that rested in his arms. "A hundred years of deprivation. But now, now I can see you. Touch you," he slid a large hand around her waist and trailed it up the arch of her spine, slipping his fingers beneath the soft fabric of her sweater. He drew his fingertips across her rib cage and then over the soft skin of her midriff, pausing beneath her breast.
Buffy breathed in ragged pants, her eyes closed as sensation rippled over her young body.
"And to taste you."
He slid his cheek along hers to take her lips in a deep, moist kiss, before he released her trembling lips to return his attention to the bared arch of her throat and her vulnerable artery. "Your skin is like velvet, smooth, warm....maybe even like a peach. All that firm flesh with a slight down to add texture." He caressed her stomach and trailed his left hand along the length of her right arm, his thumb following the path of the pale blue veins that ran beneath her skin. "Do you know what blood is, Buff?" the tall vampire paused and continued to murmur against her throat. "Do you know what blood tastes like?"
"Copper right?" she replied, trying to sound flippant though she was sure she sounded more desperate for this seduction to continue. "You could suck on a roll of pennies and it would be about the same."
"Every drop of blood has your whole life in it," he explained, ignoring her attempt at sarcasm. "It's not just food. It's how I feel life." He leaned closer and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her pulse.
She moaned and shocked herself by rising up on her toes, pressing her pulse more firmly into his mouth.
"To taste your blood is to know your soul: to know everything about you, every secret and if you let yourself go during the draw, sometimes, you can know all my secrets too."
Buffy tightened her fingers on his shoulders, digging the ovals of her nails into the fabric of his burgundy shirt.
"Everything you know, everything you are is transferred into touch and taste in the alchemy of your blood," Angelus continued. He closed his eyes, inhaling the drugging scent of her, amazed at how perfectly she seemed to fit against him. "And it's only in you that I can taste the most rare of all elixirs, the taste of love."
Her breasts rose and fell with her heaving breaths, pressing against him.
Angelus lifted his head and gently turned her face so that her lips were beneath his.
Buffy opened her eyes, her green gaze glazed with hunger at his carnal description. She met his intent stare, the velvety darkness of his eyes holding her spellbound.
"And to know that all that succulent sweetness is just beneath a thin veil of flesh. And taste...there's more to taste than just blood. There's flesh, there's the saltiness of sweat, the scents that perfume you that's nearly a flavor of its own and beneath that is the fountain of your life, the river of your body."
He bent and took her lips in a plundering kiss and she opened for him, unable to deny his powerful hunger, a hunger that was so obviously just for her. "Ambrosia," he muttered between kisses. "Nectar of the gods and all there for me to feast upon if I just sink my teeth into your quivering flesh."
She rose up on the tiptoes of her left leg, clutching at his shoulders for support. She offered her lips supplicatingly, waiting for her dark demon to generously ply her with more of the drugging pleasure of his lips.
"I want you so bad I ache with it," he growled, pressing her more firmly between himself and the rough brick at her back. "I ache in my teeth," he nipped her lips. "In my cock," he thrust the hardened flesh of his arousal into the warm cradle of her hips. "But I know it can get better if I can wait. And it's alright to wait now, because the touch and scent of the feast of your flesh nourishes me just as much as blood," he kissed her, thrusting his cool tongue into the heat of her mouth.
Buffy moaned deep in her throat, feeling drunk as she clutched him more tightly to her. She lifted her right leg tentatively to curl around his thigh, keeping the joint curved gingerly as she wrapped her arms, tugging the lean predator that was making love to her with both his voice and his lips deeper into her embrace.
"More," he demanded roughly, devouring her mouth with his.. "The sensuality reawakens dormant hungers and I remember that there's more than blood and death. There's hunger. There's desire. And there's passion."
He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her hard against him.
Buffy whimpered against his mouth and pulled away slightly to nibble on the sensual curve of his lips.
Angelus growled. He had reached her. She arched against his every touch, eager for more, and this time she was not lost in a haze of delirium. He pulled away from her lips, blazing a trail back down to the pulse that had fluttered so temptingly against his lips as he had whispered his blandishments to her.
She gasped, arching her throat into his mouth, her nails digging so hard into his shoulders that he knew there would be crescent marks left on even his skin.
He sank his teeth over that pulse, maintaining his handsome countenance. His blunt human teeth closed over the throbbing artery and he held her with that masterful bite as he sucked strongly on her sweet flesh.
The lithe Slayer whimpered and tightened arms around him, entangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Hunger pulled at him, needling him for more and Angelus slid his hands down her thighs and roughly picked her up. He pulled her legs around his waist and pinned her hard between his aroused body and the solid brick.
Buffy cried out, a ragged scream of pain and froze in his arms, all earlier traces of her arousal gone in that one blinding and stomach turning wrench of agony. Whimpering, she pressed her face hard into his shoulder, unaware of the tears that spilled from her eyes as she shook from the anguish of her still-damaged joint.
Angelus released her throat, aware that her cry had not been from pleasure. He felt the trickling warmth of her tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt and was still, taking a quick inventory to try to figure out what had gone wrong. Then he noticed it.
The knee joint that he supported in his right palm was hot and swollen beneath the soft cotton of her pants.
Slowly, gently, he shifted his grip higher to her thigh, still holding her high against him.
"I can't fight you," Buffy whimpered into his shoulder.. "Not today."
He pressed a kiss into the tangled locks of her golden hair.
"Just get it over with," she whispered raggedly.
Her lover lowered her gently to the ground, still supporting her injured leg by her thigh, keeping her stabilized with the arm wrapped securely around her waist.
"Who did this to you?" he growled, enraged that someone, anyone had dared to harm her. She was his; his to hurt, his to protect.
Buffy grasped his shoulders and kept her face buried in his shirt, unwilling to look up in his eyes and see the pleasure she was sure he felt at her pain reflected there. "I need to know how I can get Willow home safe," she stated, ignoring his question.
"She is safe."
"At home," she clarified. "Safe at home, tucked up in her bed, breathing, unbruised, unmolested, safe."
He cradled his fiesty warrior against him, luxuriating in her warmth and scent. "I'll have Curtis walk her home," he promised. "Who better to protect her from the creatures of the night than Curtis?"
She snorted in disgust. "This does not inspire confidence."
"He's completely obedient."
"I don't - "
"Take it or leave it," the Master Vampire snapped, bringing the argument to a close. "Curtis."
The blond vampire opened the back door of the Bronze, as if the minion in question had been waiting on the other side of the door for his master's call.
"Curtis, see that Willow gets home unharmed."
The blond vampire disappeared and Buffy peeked out of the familiar comfort of Angel's shoulder.
"Now for you," the tall vampire released her thigh and carefully lifted his wounded lover in his arms, cradling her possessively against his chest. "I'll carry you home."
She gave him a mutinous look. "I can walk," she muttered proudly.
"Don't push it," he warned. He walked by the pallet pile, snagging her cherry red leather jacket, but leaving her weapons behind on the wooden stack.
Buffy curved one arm over his shoulders as she took her jacket from his supporting hand.
Angelus stalked out of the darkened alley, unaffected by her slight weight. "So," he murmured into her ear. "Shall we make out on your porch swing?"
She flushed and glared up at his handsome visage. "Don't push it."
He chuckled and kissed her roughly, pleased to have her in his arms again, even if she was wounded.
The screech of car tires filled the air and the pair looked up to see Giles getting out of Cordelia's car, holding a crossbow. Willow got out of the backseat, brushing ash from her clothing as she watched.
"Oh look," Angelus muttered dryly. "The cavalry." He lowered her gingerly to the ground, keeping her between himself and the frightened Watcher.
Buffy balanced on her good leg and watched in stunned bemusement as her dark-eyed lover raised her hand to his lips and laid an open-mouthed kiss on her knuckles.
"See you soon," he murmured. "Think of me. I'll send more roses."
He walked away, leaving her for her friends to take home.
The young Slayer blinked, bemused by the gentleness and the passion he had shown her that night. "Angel?" she whispered questioningly.
Angelus glanced back at her confused expression. "Still me, lover," he reassured her, then walked away before Giles came to his senses long enough to try and shoot a crossbow bolt into his chest.
Tears trickled down Buffy's cheeks.
He wasn't her Angel. The demon was courting her. The demon wanted her and he wanted her enough to act like Angel to get her.
Giles jogged up to her side and crouched to peer into her saddened features with concern. "Buffy? Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
She thought of the confusing and frightening desire that had throbbed within her veins and deeper in the core of her body as she had responded to his every persuasive word.
As Angel, he had been her light, her sun and her entire world had revolved around him accordingly. As a souless echo of the man she had loved, he was now a black hole, the gravity of his presence pulling her towards him, irresistably sucking her down into the darkest recesses of his existence.
Had he hurt her? His mere existence hurt her. He whispered words of sweet passion, words that every woman wanted to hear, words that even Angel, the man she loved with all her heart had never said to her. Did he hurt her? More with every breath she took.
"Yes," she whispered.