Author: kyria

Disclaimer: Not mine. Didn't do it. Can't prove anything. Ask Joss about it or Mutant Enemy.

Distribution: Go ahead, take it.

Special thanks to Nina. I officially promise you nekkid Lindz. There. I typed it, so it must be true.

Summary: AU, Angelus and Angel are brothers. In fact, they are twins. No one is vampy. There is a lot of pointlessness and smut, maybe a few men in leather pants.

Rating: NC-17


Part 1

"You son of a bitch!" Faith hissed.

Angelus relaxed against the doorframe and smirked down at his latest conquest, black eyes gleaming in the bright lights of her room. Being a sadistic bastard, he wanted to see every emotion that crossed her features when she had realized what was happening to her…

He grinned remembering how little convincing it took to get her tied to the bed. Hell, she jumped at the chance. Now she was deliciously spread-eagle, handcuffed by the ankles and wrists -- Had been for hours.

He stalked around the bed, letting his hand trail up the silky skin of her left ankle to the apex of her thighs. Pausing, he gently worked the little bundle of nerves nestled there and had her whimpering in seconds. She desperately tried to squirm away from his hand and screwed her eyes shut when he glanced up at her, as if she wasn't getting pleasure out of this…

Displeased, he abruptly withdrew his moist fingers and roughly caressed her flat, tan stomach, leaving a trail of moisture on her skin. Moving up, he began to lap and nip at rosy nipples until they were peppled and bright red. Faith blinked back tears, trying not to respond. He raised his eyes, annoyed but pleased that she wouldn't look at him.

"Little Faithy, I cannot begin to tell you how much I enjoyed our time together," he lilted while letting his hands wander south again, a finger traced around her engorged clit as she let out another little whimpering sound, "You, though, needed a lesson in denial."

He paused as he dipped a finger into her plentiful honey and moved back to her clit, working it, circling it until she was bucking against his hand. His brown eyes flashed at her reaction, his pupils dilating as he again stopped.

Faith's angry brown eyes flicked open and a red, hot flush moved across her body. Desperately, she tried to hide her deep, gasping, breaths- and failed. She couldn't help but to react to him. He knew exactly where to touch her and for just how long, but the bastard wouldn't let her cum. He'd been teasing her for the last three hours, bringing her close only to stop and taunt her.

"Beg me," he requested in a velvety, soft voice for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night, "Tell me how much you want my cock, tell me I'm the only one who'll ever get to slid inside…

"Fuck you," she bit out.

A slow smile spread across his angular features, and he bent down to taste her wetness. Until now, he'd only used his hands. The texture of his warm, wet mouth on her could possibly be her undoing. One, long, lick up her hot slit to her clit and she let out a quiet wail, pulling desperately against the handcuffs that restrained her now raw, bruised wrists in this war of wills.

She never begged anyone.


But suddenly she could see its merits, and she whispered a tiny please.

"Please is a nice word," he retorted, raising his eyes until his black stare burn a hole through her, "but it isn't begging. I want you to say, "Please, Angelus, fuck me. I'm begging you, please fuck me.""

He returned to his previous activity, knowing she was close to the breaking point. Eyes glinting with pleasure, he stared at her face while her body writhed from the touch of his tongue as he brought her to the edge of another climax and stopped. He would break her.

"Pleasefuckmeangelusi'mbeggingyoupleasefuckme," she wailed.

He stood and gracefully stripped all the while staring into her dark, angry eyes. The arrogant smirk never left his face as he climbed between her legs and hovered over her. She groaned at the sight of his tan, chiseled chest and wished to God that she weren't tied down so she could run her hands and lips across his dusky nipples down to the washboard stomach. Oh, God. He was thick, long…

He was perfect.

"Now, little Faithy, tell me I'm the only one that who gets to fuck you."

Warm, satiny flesh moved against her sweaty body until the tip of his cock slid to her center, and she senselessly ground herself up against him. He pulled his hips away, leaving the tiny electric distance of a half an inch between them while shaking his head in the negative as if he were chiding a toddler, "Now, now… Promise first; say I'm the only one who gets to fuck you."

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes at her humiliation, "You're the only one…"

A real smile crossed Angelus' face as he mocked her, "Finish it Faithy."

She whispered it, but he heard. With her admission, he got off the bed and began to put on his clothes. She stared at his back in amazement.

"Where the fuck do you thing you're going?" she hissed to his naked back.

Angelus turned to her as he zipped up his fly,

"You disappoint me," he replied with a nonchalant shrug. His skintight white tee shirt slipped over broad shoulders and his head popped through the opening of his shirt. He looked like pure sex standing there with his hair messed and his belt undone. He waltzed up to the side of the bed and leaned over his `victim'.

"I thought you had what it takes, lover," he ran his fingers through her dark, tousled, hair staring at it with disdain while he flicked it out of his hands.

He wiped his palms on his jeans, as if he had touched something unclean, "I was wrong."

With that he exited the room, leaving Faith handcuffed, naked, alone.


Been Careless With A Delicate Man

Part 2

"It probably isn't a big deal, Xan-Man," he mumbled to himself, "She probably lost track of time and forgot, but she's never been late before."

Shifting his weight nervously, he ran a hand through dark, tousled hair. The anxious, young man stepped closer to the door and made the useless effort to squint through the peephole… All he saw was a miniature living room. Damn it. He was supposed to meet Faith at the gym an hour ago to work out. Since it was the only thing she took seriously, he was worried when she didn't appear on time and doubly so when she didn't answer her phone.

Now he stood in front of her apartment door talking to no one, while staring at the "Welcome" mat that hid the key to her apartment.

"I can just take a quick look, make sure she isn't there and go," he said to no one, "but if she isn't there, I have no idea what to do next."

He'd hired Faith as his personal trainer after putting on a `few' pounds in hopes that she'd go out with him. Much to his dismay, they'd become fast friends. She appreciated his self-depreciating wit and charm… but didn't seem attracted to him at all. Now he was stuck in the friend zone, which was kind of like the Bermuda Triangle in that there was no way out once you got in…

Leaning over, he flipped up the corner of the mat and picked up the key. Before he could change his mind, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Odd thing was, it wasn't locked. Less odd was the scene before him; it was a perfectly normal living room. Big screen T.V., black leather couches, black carpet…

`She has a thing for black,' he thought as he stepped inside and pushed the door shut, only to be startled by a yelp for help.

Standing uncertainly in the living room, he tentatively called out, "Faith?"

"In my bedroom!!!!"

Xander walked cautiously down the gray hallway and pushed on the already ajar door.

"Close your fucking eyes!"

It was too late. Gaping at the prone, handcuffed figure before him, he gasped, "Sweet, Jesus!"

It was a wet dream come true.

Faith's tan, slender limbs were sprawled out on rumpled white cotton sheets. Desire pooled in low places as his eyes meandered up slim legs and… Oh, God, trim pussy to the flat of her stomach. He fought the primal urge to trail his hands along her delicate rib cage and up to the gentle swell of her breasts.

At this point, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt there was a God.

"Take a long look Harris, cause you are the last man alive who will ever see me in bondage," she sniped flippantly, "the keys are on the dresser. Get. Them. Now. I gotta' pee!"

With her last comment, Xander quickly moved to the dresser trying desperately to hide the wide grin that wouldn't leave his face.


It Is A Sad, Sad World

Part 3

Faith hid in the back of Starbucks curled up in a comfy black chair. Walls of book-lined shelves surrounded her as she twisted long strands of chestnut hair around her finger. Silence. She let out a sigh of relief, glad to be away from the phone, the answering machine and the constant influx of concerned messages…

It had been a long week a venti, white-chocolate mocha seemed to be the answer to her troubles.

Through the diagonally placed shelving, a short blond would have been seen stalking in her general direction, if Faith had bothered to look up from her book. She didn't see the tiny Amazon until she was upon her… and by then it was too late.

The blond huffed as she walked through the bookstore, making a beeline across beige carpet towards her friend. The brunette tried to ignore her as she threw herself into the adjacent chair; dropping her little black leather back-pack on the floor. She sighed loudly and Faith gave up, looking across to her stewing friend.

"What the hell happened to you this week?" Buffy asked.

Marking her Laurell K. Hamilton book with a gum wrapper, she glared wearily at her friend.

"I'm reading B, so…"

"You can read about sexy vampires some other time, right now I want to know why you've been avoiding everyone!"

Faith's grasp on the book tightened and she wished for a moment the only thing she had to worry about was vampires. Slaying vampires was kind of appealing, especially if the vampire would happen to be tall, gorgeous, evil and named Angelus. She could get on board with that. Shaking her head, she glanced at her friend who was waiting impatiently for an answer.

"I was humiliated, is that what you want to hear? I'm sure Xander has already given you his fucked up version. Why do you have to hear it from me too?" she hissed while opening her book again.

"Xander said some guy walked out on you, he didn't give details," Buffy stated, her brow wrinkling in confusion, "What happened?"

Faith had a hard time believing Buffy hadn't been informed of her night out with her Ahn and Cordy. She'd been with the pair while picking Angelus up, and taken him back to her place despite their jealous grumbling. Her answering machine was full of messages asking how it went with "Mr. Salty Goodness".

Faith was too humiliated to reply and too angry to pretend it never happened. It had been a week since she'd seen anyone, instead she had spent all of her time avoiding her friends and licking her wounds. Buffy was the first to finally corner her while making a Mocha run to the only Starbucks in town.

Faith took a long gulp of her drink and slouched into the over- stuffed chair. Her eyes flashed at the memory and welled up slightly. Blinking, she looked away from her friend and gave a long sigh. Buffy leaned in, staring with intent disbelief at Faith's profile.

"I'm going to kill that guy," she hissed, clenching the edge of the table top with her hands, "Nobody makes my best friend cry and gets away with it!"

Faith smirked, "What are you going to do B? Beat him up?"

The tiny blond looked defiantly at the brunette, "I'll do better. I'll give the son of a bitch a taste of his own medicine."

The dark haired woman smiled fondly at her, "You're out of your league."

Faith's sexual exploits were legendary, and if she said Angelus was out of her league Buffy believed her. Faith had made her way through two or three men a week. For the last three years. You name it and she'd tried it… at least once. Honestly, it was something Buffy admired, but found difficult to emulate. It took a lot of guts for a woman to be as openly sexual as her friend was. If Faith thought this Angelus guy was out of her league, she was probably right, but Buffy didn't care-- it was war… once she knew exactly what had happened to Faith, she'd make a plan for retribution.

* * * Long, dark, velvet drapes hung over the floor-to-ceiling windows, effectively drowning out any of the afternoon light. He stared at the two men sitting across from him over a mound of paper work that littered a dark, walnut desk and decided they were a psychiatrist's wet dream. Identical twins raised in the exact, same, twisted environment… one turned into a sociopath while the other strived to make amends for a family's sins that made the Corleones' past seem Elysian.

Their father, who over the last thirty years had quietly unified his family's holdings, was now one of the wealthiest men in the country. Rupert Giles had little patience for such things as offspring, so Lindsay was `appointed' by Mr. Giles' law firm, Wolfram and Hart, to carry a message to his sons.

Giles, being a very sensible man, had plans for his children… plans that needed a little nudge. The first nudge was getting the `boys' to manage their own affairs. Lindsay McDonald studiously avoided Angelus' searing black stare as he paused to deliver the final blow. Lindsay had given the pair a three-month, world tour of the family holdings and now it all boiled down to this:

"Your father's terms for your early inheritance are the following…"

Angel leaned back in his seat casually, while Angelus sat as still as a panther ready to spring, opaque eyes still burning a hole through the lawyer. Lindsay shifted uncomfortably and contemplated asking Angelus to stop staring, but thought better of it. Hell, he just wanted to get the fuck away from him. It would end faster if he got on with it.

"Let me put it in simple English. For the next 18 months, you will be able to access the family money as usual. Once the 18 months are up, if you aren't married, no more money until you do get married. The first of you to produce offspring will gain control of the family holdings when your father passes on," Lindsay paused for a moment, "Mr. Giles asked that I make this part perfectly clear: any child born out of wedlock is not considered legal offspring. Those are the conditions, any questions?"

Angel smiled grimly as he leaned forward to shake the young lawyer's hand, "Thank you Mr. McDonald, I appreciate your time."

Angelus rose in one, fluid motion; without a word or gesture to either man and stalked soundlessly out of the library. The young attorney watched him cautiously until the massive walnut doors closed behind Angelus with a soft thud.

Lindsay's clear blue eyes caught Angel's, "I really don't like him."

Angel slowly stood, stretching his long limbs above his head with a yawn, "Nobody does."

Lindsay smirked at the older twin; it was hard not to get along with the seemingly easygoing façade Angel presented. But Linds had spent a long three months in his company and found violence lurked just beneath the seemingly peaceful exterior. That violence had exploded to the surface when a little of the drink taken in Ireland had resulted in a bar room brawl with Angel somehow winning against three men…

"You're taking this better than I thought you would," he stated, "Can't imagine either of you married, least of all fathers…"

Angel produced a very Angelus like smirk, his eyes darkening with suppressed rage, "I need a drink. There's one decent restaurant in this hellhole; I'm supposed to meet a few friends of mine there. Want to join us?"

"Why not?"

It would be interesting, he thought, to see what kind of friends Angel hung out with.


It Is A Sad, Sad World

Part 4

Bent over the pile of papers, her hands pressed against the dark walnut desk, Drusilla turned to look over her shoulder. She pushed her thighs together in an unconscious effort to relieve the ache between her legs. Tonight was special. He had never brought her back to his home before and it had to mean something.

"Drusilla," Angelus bit out in anger.

Nervously, she pushed her feet shoulder width apart, as he had previously instructed, and waited. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Her chest tightened in nervous exhilaration and she bit her lip trying not to let the passing time relax her.

Dru fairly itched for his hand to meet the soft flesh of her buttocks and thighs. She didn't even notice letting out a low moan as she imagined how the weight of his body would feel draped over her back, pressing her against the flat surface of the desk…

The first blow surprised her. It always did. She hadn't even heard him approach, being so involved with her fantasy of him fucking her into the table. The flat of his hand caught her on the left cheek of her ass once. Then he seemed to let go of all self control; raining blows down on her flesh. Blows that she knew from experience would leave her raw and bruised. The stinging flashes of pain began to burn and she let out a quiet wail through clenched teeth.

"Harder," she hissed as she felt the cool brush of his shirt against her enflamed skin.

As suddenly as it had begun, it ended. She fought to stay upright, her legs shaking with the effort and pain. She could hear the gentle clink of his belt as he unfastened it and the soft sound of his pants hitting the floor. His hand reached between her thighs to roughly sink his fingers inside her; rubbing her sticky essence toward her back passage and she pressed her body against his hand. Dewy fingers pushed against her back channel and she gasped.

"No… I don't like that," Drusilla whined pulling away from him.

Angelus chuckled, shoving his iron like thighs against her slim legs to effectively pin her to the desk.

"Are you telling me no, Drusilla? I thought we had an understanding, I do what ever I want to your hot, little body and you get the continued pleasure of my company."

She let out a startled cry as his fingers probed her opening, "Please, just not that."

Angelus moved away and her body sagged with relief.

"Go home then," he said flatly.

Drusilla turned, tears suddenly welling in her dark, doe like eyes, "No, please. I'll do anything. Just not that…"

She fell to her hands and knees, dark hair trailing across her face; getting caught in the salty trail of tears running down her skin. Crawling in supplication across the cold, stone floor to his feet, she flung her arms around his left leg, letting out a broken sob. With little trouble, he untangled her from his powerful legs and derisorily turned away to pick up his pants.


Angelus stayed with his back to her and shrugged nonchalantly, "You know the deal, Drusilla."

She hiccupped and scuttled across the floor back to her original position at the desk. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dropping from her chin to mark the papers that littered the table top. Her breathing came in deep, desperate gasps, "Please, don't leave me. I'll do it…"

Angelus turned slowly toward her, belt in hand, with a bored look on his handsome features.

"You broke our rules, Dru. You know what that means."

"Yes," she whispered not looking back as he approached, "Your going to make it hurt."


When A Girl Will Break A Boy

Part 5

It had been three long, frustrating months she'd been on the prowl.

Every weekend it was the same thing: she'd dragged Faith out to bar after bar in hopes that she'd catch a glimpse of the bastard that had hurt her friend so she could implement "Operation Bastard". The whole gang had joined in, even Cordelia, Willow, and Ahn. But tonight was different.

Tonight she'd left the black bustier and red leather pants at home. She was sitting at the bar minding her own business, drinking cranberry tainted vodka, which she favored over less inebriating concoctions like strawberry daiquiris or margaritas.

She was all decked out in a tailored black shirt, a worn, comfortable pair of hip-hugging jeans and three-inch, black, chunky boots. It was nice, she thought, to feel all `grrl' instead of all `call girl.' The tiny blond was taking a sip from her glass, enjoying how the alcohol warmed her throat when she heard a deep, velvety voice from beside her ask for "Bushmills, Black label... straight up, and whatever my friend wants…"

Buffy tried not to look at the source of that caramel baritone, but couldn't help herself. She glanced covertly; she thought, through the veil of her long, soft hair to the mirror behind the bartender. There she caught the reflection of the god-like creature sitting at her side. The `enemy's' weapons were potent: chocolate brown eyes were staring directly into hers. Curiously, there was not a hint of a leer or malice. Immediately she decided he must be a crafty one, and looked away. He had thick, black curly hair that was cut short... but still long enough to make her want to run fingers through it. Razor sharp cheekbones angled across satiny skin to full, ripe lips that she really wanted to bite. Buff glanced back, held eye contact for a moment and then looked disinterestedly away.

After all, she was waiting for friends. It wouldn't do to pick up one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen only to be interrupted by their entrance. Bluntly, that was the only reason she wasn't throwing herself at the guy.

She tried to close off her increasingly overactive, horny imagination, and gulped down the rest of her drink. The bartender quickly refilled it and this time she sipped leisurely, meeting the stranger's eyes again in the mirror.

"The name's Angel, and this is Linds," he said to her image while tilting his head toward a handsome blonde on his right. She glanced at his friend, admiring his boyish, good looks, but was drawn back to Angel instantly.

She gave a little nod of acknowledgement, "Buffy. Nice to meet you." Angel smiled slowly. It was as if the sun had decided to come up in the middle of the bar. She grinned back at his image, suddenly giggling like a child.

"You're not from here," she stated inanely, turning to face the man next to her, "are you?"

"Sort of," came his cryptic reply.

"Well, you either are or you aren't."

"Why do the women from this town have to know exactly where I'm from?"

"It's a small town," she answered, "most of us are probably sizing you up as a possible arm trophy."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, a little non-verbal Buffy adored, and did the Silent Bob thing.

A man that doesn't constantly talk: how rare, and refreshing. She played with her martini glass stem, rubbing it up and down when she remembered something her old Psych 101 teacher always used to say, "You want to hit on the woman who is rubbing her glass up and down... she's the one that isn't getting it..."

The old perv.

Anyway, Buffy immediately stopped the rubbing. You never know what some guys might pick up on....

"And to answer your un-asked question, Arm trophy means a hot guy on your arm..."

His eyes danced when she said "hot guy". Talk about giving yourself away, she groaned inwardly… I'm such a geek. Flushing, she turned and studied her glass intently, trying to ignore the amazingly, beautiful man next to her. That lasted about a minute before she began sneaking "stealthy" little glances at him. He was wearing blue jeans, comfortable black penny loafers and a form fitting charcoal waffle shirt that clung to every inch of his defined arms and chest.

He made an alluring package, and she let her eyes wander up to his face, finding him watching her watching him with an amused look. Buffy had the good grace to blush. Actually, blush would be an understatement. She could feel the hot flush of blood crawl up her neck and spread to the roots of her hair. She looked away quickly only to meet his intent gaze in the mirror again.

God… When were her friends going to get here and rescue her from total humiliation?

That's when it all began. In the future, some would say that everything started the night Faith took Angelus home, but really, it started with one, electric touch.

He gently brushed her arm with a trace of his strong, long fingers and asked, "Want to join me and some of my friends in the restaurant?"

He gestured to a group of men who'd just walked into the shared vestibule of the restaurant, "Za, Za's", and the bar, which resided in the lower level of Sunnydale's nicest hotel.

"I'm meeting four girlfriends for dinner…"

He shrugged and gave her a mind-blowing half-smile, "We could all eat together; it'd be fun."

Buffy turned and looked at the group of men gathered outside the glass separating the bar from the vestibule. They were waving and making obscene gestures behind her back. They tried to stop abruptly when she turned around, but were not successful. A wiry, platinum blond smirked while looking directly into her eyes like a little boy who got caught doing something bad, but clearly wasn't sorry. They didn't come across as completely harmless, but they did look like a good time. Turning back to the handsome pair next to her, she nodded her assent.

Angel rose from his seat and waved to the group behind him. He glanced back at Buffy and told her, "Ask for the Angel Giles' table when you come in…"

Smiling, he walked out of the bar and up to the group of men he'd known all of his life. Spike swaggered over to Angel, not once taking his crystalline, blue eyes off of the woman his friend had just been sitting with. Ignoring Spike never really worked, but Angel didn't want to drag outside and beat the shit out of his overly, competitive friend. Not just yet, anyway.

Instead he made an announcement, "I'd like to introduce you to Linds McDonald…"

Angel made introductions and tilted his head back towards the bar, "… and we're getting the company of some ladies this evening."

"The tiny, blond thing you were just talking to didn't exactly look like a lady to me," Spike sneered, trying to bait his `friend'.

"Spike you wouldn't know a lady if she bit ya' in the ass," Gunn intoned with a wide grin, "but I'd bet you'd like it if one did."

"It isn't my arse I'd like that one to bite," the blond retorted smirking back at Gunn before turning toward Angel, "Mind if I have a go at her?"

The two glowered at each other as Doyle spotted a group of gorgeous women being led to their way by the petite blond Angel had been sitting with. Nervously, he glanced back to his friends, "Argue some other time, fella's…"

Doyle turned on all of his considerable, Irish charm, which increased the wattage of his already breath-taking smile, only to be stunned into silence… Something that had never happened in all of the time his friends had known him. He stared up into the most beautiful, brown eyes he'd ever seen. She was a vision, an angel, a goddess…

"These are my friends, Cordelia, Ahn, Willow and I'm Buffy," a voice seemed to state from far away, "We're one short, cause Faith is running late as usual, but she said she'd find us."

Doyle nodded dumbly, still entranced with the tall, slender woman to Buffy's right. Gunn rolled his eyes while shaking his head in astonishment and took over.

"The deaf mute guy is Doyle, this is Linds and I'm Gunn…" he introduced while smiling warmly to the group of women, "And Buffy, you've already met the man of the hour! Angel, glad to see you made it back, it was a long few months…"

Gunn walked over to Angel and gave him a brief, manly hug as Spike crossed his arms and scowled. Figured, Gunn would pass him over, too much competition for the skinny wanker…

"Yeah, and I'm Spike…" he sputtered.

Buffy turned to smile at the man who'd been so obviously appraising her through the bar window, "Nice to meet you, Spike."

He grinned up to a spot behind her insolently. Taking a deep breath, she turned and found her nose pressed into Angel's gray, waffled shirt. She inhaled the clean scent of expensive, cologne as she stumbled backwards. His strong hand easily grasped arm, pulling her upright and flush against his hard, muscular chest. Buffy found herself suddenly keenly aware of the warm hand now sliding down her bare skin. She looked up into dark, brown eyes and found she couldn't look away. Somehow, she was stupidly staring at his full, pouty, bottom lip while fighting the urge to stand on tip toe and… God, she was acting like a teenager with a first crush!

"Thanks," she stuttered; he didn't loosen his grip on her arm one bit.

"I'm afraid that if I let you go, you'll get away from me," he whispered in her ear.

Buffy raised an eyebrow as she looked up to meet his stare, her stomach doing flip-flops.

"I mean- you'd fall down..."

"Thanks for the help," she sighed, content to let him keep touching her arm.

A brilliant smile lit up her face.

As Angel gestured to the restaurant's open doors, Buffy saw Faith behind him, grimly waving to get her attention.


Just Because She Can

Part 6

"You've got to be kidding me," Buffy stated for the third time in the last minute.

"Look, I can't go over there. He'll recognize me," Faith hissed as she jumped up on the edge of the white, ceramic sink in the restroom, "and I don't want to be held responsible for my actions if I get too close…"

The pair ignored the pissed off, bitching women that passed in and out of the stalls behind them. This was serious business, and the line of females waiting for the only mirror that hung above the ONLY sink in the bathroom could go to hell.

Buffy slouched against the wall, her shoulders hunched over in defeat. She wrapped a long, blond curl nervously around one finger, twisting hard on her hair. Disappointed didn't come close to covering how she felt. She didn't really believe in love a first sight, but the man she'd just met elicited feelings with one touch that none of her previous boy friends had all together. Hell, she went out with Riley for a few years back in college and she never got as hot and bothered as she was just thinking about the man she'd met in the bar. Of course he was the bastard, didn't her luck with the other gender always end up bad? She should have picked up on it right away. Angel was probably short for Angelus. Duh.

"Well, this is it then," the tiny blond said straightening her shoulders, a stern frown marring her delicate features, "I'm going to get out there, get him drunk, seduce him and…"

The image of Angel… Angelus… whatever, tied naked to a bed with her riding him floated through her mind. Yummy…. No! Focus! The Plan!!!

"You don't have to do this," Faith told her, watching her friend nervously, "In fact, I want to go on record that I think this is one of your worst ideas ever."

Buffy's green eyes flashed as she glared at her Faith, "No one treats someone I love like that and gets away with it. No one."

Faith groaned as her friend stalk out of the bathroom and away from her. Buffy really didn't know what she was getting into.

* * * "There is just something familiar about you," Cordelia stated over the rowdy conversation at the table, "I can't put my finger on it…"

Doyle rolled his eyes at Angel, who was clearly not interested the devastating woman sitting next to him. His friend shrugged his shoulders and turned to look toward the bathroom. The little blond he'd just met had been in there an awfully long time.

"What happened to your friend, what was her name… Buffy?"

Doyle laughed to himself as he overheard Cordelia grumble, "It is like I'm talking to myself here."

He was relieved to see the diminutive blond pick her way through the busy restaurant and take the empty seat Angel had obviously been saving for her. Buffy leaned towards the taller, darker man and snuggled into his side. Forward little chit, Doyle thought to himself… thank God! She whispered something into Angel's ear the pair giggled together.

Christ. Angel feckin' giggled.

The woman to his right turned to the rest of the group, "I swear to God, there is something really familiar about him. Ahn, do you recognize him?"

Ahn turned her attention grudgingly away from Spike, "I. Don't. Remember. Him. Ok? For the last time, he doesn't look familiar."

Cordelia regrouped and changed her focus to the blond man across the table from her. He was leaning against the chair's armrest with a suspicious smirk on his face, but he wasn't smirking at her. Cordy turned around to see what the handsome lawyer was staring at and saw Faith's dark head duck behind a menu.

Whatever. If the scanky one was gonna' try to hide from the group at another table, maybe she had a chance with the one guy that seemed to have a decent job. If only she could get him to look at her.

She plastered on her May Queen smile and leaned forward just enough to allow Mr. McDonald a glimpse down the `V' in her blue, silk shirt to her ample cleavage, "So, Lindz… what do you think of our little town?"

Lindsay's crystal, blue, eyes focused suddenly on the woman in front of him. She wasn't exactly his type and it seemed as if Angel's Irish friend was going to be a tad, bit annoyed if he picked her up. Not that it really mattered. He was more interested in watching what played out between all the others tonight. Lindsay smiled at her and glanced around the table. He picked the most political answer he could think of, "It sure is interesting."

* * *

The group had moved into the bar and to play darts, men against the women. Buffy and Angel had disappeared into a dark corner, causing different bets to be placed as to whether or not Angel would be `getting some' tonight. Willow staunchly defended Buffy's honor while Cordelia rolled her eyes.

"What is it with you? Like Buffy doesn't get laid," the brunette grumped, "You'd think she was the holy virgin from the way you talk."

Willow flushed a deep red as she stared at her aghast, "I just don't think they should be making bets…"

Lindsay moved protectively up to Willow's side and slid an arm around the red head's waist, "I think it's nice you stick up for your friends. I admire loyalty in a girl."

"Whatever," Cordy groaned to herself watching in disbelief as Willow began her awkward version of flirting.

* * *

"Another drink!" Buffy announced.

Angel looked dizzily at the tiny blond. He had no idea how she was still sober… unless he was just so amazingly drunk that she seemed sober when she wasn't REALLY sober…

At first he shook his head, no, but she looked so crestfallen… He stared down at her plump lower lip and realized she was pouting, and HE was the cause of it. It wouldn't do to have her disappointed, the unsteady man decided.

"Sure, I'll buy," he replied and wobbled towards through the thinning crowd to get their drinks.

Buffy had stealthily maneuvered Angel away from their friends, secluding them in the first dark corner of the bar she could find. This was easier and harder than she'd thought. He was funny, kind, generous… and so incredibly hot. How was this the same man that had handcuffed Faith to a bed and left her? Shake it off!

This was the same guy, and she was going to stay on task. She smiled at the cocktail waitress that passed by the table and handed her a barely touched glass.

"Don't like the drinks?" the young woman asked in concern.

"Just trying to stay sober," Buffy replied with a fib while nodding towards Angel at the bar, "he forgets I'm the designated driver."

The waitress nodded disinterestedly, her attention diverted to Angel's firm backside.

"I'd want my wits about me if I were going home with him too," she stated warmly.

Buffy's forehead crinkled in instant jealousy, "Yeah, whatever."

Angel headed back to the table with their drinks in hand, never once looking at the svelte cocktail waitress that was obviously leering at him. The poor, dear man spilled a good amount of their drinks' contents on his hands as the cool liquid sloshed over the rims.

"Damn," he growled, turning to go back for napkins.

Tiny fingers caught his and he turned back to the blond he decided he might willingly serve for the rest of his life. She looked up at with wide, innocent eyes, opened her pink, glossy lips and suckled his index finger into her mouth.

She pulled away from his hand and nodded toward the hallway leading to an exit at the back of the bar.

"Looks like you made a mess, want me to take you home and clean it up?" she asked in a little girl voice.

Angel's mouth went slack at her blatant sexual advance and he was powerless to say no. She was luring him and he was enjoying every second of it. Buffy pulled at his hand as she got up and dragged him back into the dark, turning hallway that lead them far away from the crowd of people.


Don't You Tell Me To Deny It

Part 7

Angel couldn't believe his lucky stars… O.K. the day hadn't started out so well, what with his father trying to bully him into submission with his lawyer, but there was a tiny blond goddess helping him into bed.

Sure, he was foggy on how they'd gotten to the mansion, up the stairs and into his room, but who cared? She was whispering soothing words into his ear while tugging his pants off him, gently undressing him and putting him to bed…

How sweet, he thought smiling to himself.

Buffy crawled up his body until she was above him on all fours and lightly bit down on his bottom lip, sucking it softly. He groaned into her mouth and moved his hands to pull her down to him…

But his arms wouldn't move.

He tried again. Same result.

"Buffy," he whispered with concern, "I can't move my arms."

He looked up into mossy eyes glinting with pleasure. Her hair fell across his face, obstructing his view of the lovely creature hovering over him as she uttered two words that began to sober him up:

"I know."


"Holy shit," Cordelia sputtered, "He's Angelus!"

Willow's forehead crinkled at Cordy's sudden outburst while Anya's mouth opened into a silent `O'.

"You're right! Oh my God! Buffy left with him! Do you think she's ok?" The men that had crowded around a small bar room table with them howled with laughter. Doyle nonchalantly took the darts from Gunn and moved up to the line.

"Darlen', Angelus is Angel's twin brother. Believe me, she did not go home with THAT bastard; she's in good hands."

"Does Buffy know that?" Willow, always the sensible one, asked while the new information sunk in, "It's not like she's EVER gone home with some guy she just picked up at a bar before… heck, she wasn't even drunk."

Cordelia smirked triumphantly, "Any man that chooses Buffy over me DESERVES `Operation Bastard.'"

Gunn and Spike both glanced at Cordeila in confusion while Doyle threw his third bull's eye for a hat trick. He spun jubilantly with his arms raised above his head making a victory sign, "Did ya see that?"

No one was watching.

"What the fuck is `Operation Bastard?'" Gunn asked a too little loudly.

Cordelia crinkled her forehead, trying to come up with a quick explanation, "It's a long story…"

"Buffy planned on tying Angelus to a bed and torturing him as revenge for doing the same to a friend of ours," Ahn explained concisely.

"Maybe not that long…"

"That sounds like fun," Spike teased in a stage whispered, "Wanna tie me up, luv'?"

Ahn squirmed at the thought and looked heatedly into Spike's eyes, "Let's go."

The astonished platinum blonde stared at the sexy woman's backside slithering out the bar's exit. Hesitating, he glanced at his friends for a moment before making up his mind.

"Good luck with Angel and his bint," he muttered before taking off after her.

The group sat in stunned silence for a moment as they watched Spike taking the stairs two at a time to catch up with Anya.

Gunn was the first to speak, "As much as that excites Spike, I don't think Angel is into that sort of thing."

Willow shook her head in agreement and grabbed her purse, "We need to find them, just in case Buffy gets out of hand. Anyone know where Angel lives?"

Lindsay smirked at the mental images fliting through his mind. This he had to see. Plus, he thought as he glanced at Willow's slim form, he wouldn't mind getting to know her better.

"I know where his apartment is," Lindsay stated as he stood up, "I'll drive."


I've Done Wrong

Part 8

The silky skin of her cheek brushed against his as she placed warm, wet kisses along his jaw line. He could smell the sweet scent of her hair and took a deep breath trying to figure out what to do. Not sure about the current situation, he warred between asking her to undo the restraints and just relaxing and enjoying it.

He chose the latter.

"You don't look like the bondage type," he hissed.

Fighting his bonds, he tried to reach for her. God, it would be heaven to trail his hands over her tiny shoulders and down her slim torso. He could imagine the feel of her nipples through the lace of her bra, and the carnal sound of her moan when he nipped at them. He longed to press kisses against her warm, flat stomach and grasp the satiny skin of her narrow hips while lapping at her dripping core.

He could feel her trembling above him and a stab of desire thrilled deep in his stomach as he realized her trembling was because of him. She looked ethereal in the dim light, and he felt as if she were a vision floating above him instead of warm flesh and blood.

He watched as a feral look flashed through her large, green, eyes and her gaze followed the corded line of his arms. Pulling against the restraints, he made another vain attempt to reach her. Unconsciously, she trailed a hand across his chest and bent down to take one nipple into her mouth. She let her tongue flick over the peppled nub, and he groaned when he felt a flood of moisture from her as she ground her self against him.

She would have to do this more often, he mused as she slid down his body, still grinding her silk covered nether regions against him. She kept moving, until she was rubbing her face on the smooth planes of his stomach and lower…

With a slow, deep breath she let her hands move to the inside of his thighs, stroking the flesh that led to his groin. Every muscle in Angel's body tightened as his hips jerked towards her of their own accord. She hesitated again, and looked up at him from under her dark lashes while he moaned in anticipation, thrusting into her hands. Buffy seemed to know he was watching her; he was positive she could feel the heat of his stare as she lightly cupped his sack and bent down to rub her cheek against his warm flesh. Uncertainly, she grasped the base of his cock and leaned in to taste the velvety head.

"Holy Mother of Christ," Angel hissed.

The muscles of his neck corded at the feel of her mouth. Desperate to touch her he jerked frantically at the bonds holding him back. The only thing he wanted in this world was to touch her, slide inside her, make her scream from pleasure any way he could devise. And there would be lots of ways.

Opening her mouth, she engulfed just the head of his cock and began sucking with a light pressure while swirling her tongue around him. The smooth texture of her hot, little mouth had him bucking his hips toward her, gasping. She seemed encouraged by his reaction and she opened her mouth and took more of him in. Releasing some of the pressure, her lips move fluidly over his penis for several minutes.


She looked up, his eyes fluttered in pleasure as she concentrated again on the sensitive head of his cock, sucking harder as he made a guttural groan deep in his throat. She tried to shake off the negative thoughts…

What the fuck was she doing???

She'd never had a one-night stand before in her life-- but here she was, handcuffing a near-stranger to a bed because he'd made Faith cry?

Slowly she shook her head back and forth, `Operation Bastard' was almost complete. No, she wasn't going to wimp out now. All she had to do was make him beg, but she wasn't sure if that was the real reason she was huddled over him. It felt amazing to be in control, to do whatever she wanted to him…

Damn, it was good to be the bitch on top.

Buffy pulled away from the Dark God and his lids fluttered open to watch her move off of the bed in one fluid motion. The petite blond yawned and stretched languidly, while Angel's hungry eyes followed the length of her slim torso, watching as she pulled off her lacy, black bra.

His dark brown eyes grew black as his attention fixated on her uncovered breasts. Buffy raised an eyebrow as Angel's cock seemed to grow impossibly bigger.

"Well, Angelus, what exactly do you want me to do next?"

His attention flicked away from the slim expanse of tan stomach to her suddenly cool expression.

"What did you call me," he asked gruffly, a suspicious realization crossing his features.

She smirked as she sat down, lounging at the foot of the bed while toying with the insides of his thighs. She watched the play of his muscles as they tensed at her touch and replied harshly, "I called you Angelus, lover."


I Want To Suffer For My Sins

Part 9

Angelus blinked awake and glanced around the room for Dru. Her broken form lay huddled on the floor, curled next to him like a dog. Black hair streamed down her back and caught in the drying blood. Smiling at the sight, Angelus cocked his head; he could have sworn he heard a woman's voice, but Dru was out cold.

He'd been a bit too rough with her, he thought to himself in annoyance while gazing at the flesh of her back. It was broken open in long, bloody strips. She would take weeks to heal, he thought regretfully. He had enjoyed every minute of it, but he didn't want to permanently damage her body.

Not too much anyway.

She was probably going to need medical attention tonight, he decided while imagining the scars she would carry from his, "attentions". Oh, yeah, just a little too rough, he decided with a smirk. Unconsciously, he rubbed both of his hands across his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretched his heavy arms above his head. He stood in one sleek motion and stalked out of the room, shutting the door as he went.

It had been a disappointing evening. At first both Darla and Dru were unavailable for him to take out his `frustrations' on. Instead, he'd taken his baby for a long ride into the desert that lay, oddly enough, between Sunnydale and L.A.

The wind and speed did little to ease the rage that was growing towards his father. Instead, the adrenaline rush of pushing his Ducati to 177 mph on the dusty, empty roads seemed to fuel it. He even considered riding the rest of the way to L.A. so he could confront his Rupert, but realized it would do little good. The only other thing he could do to ensure his inheritance was to get rid of the competition.

And God knows he had tried to get his brother "out of the way" before. The bastard was a wily one, and seemed to live through whatever assault Angelus put him through.

Christ, maybe he'd actually have to get married. He realized with a start, if he had to get married, the bride sure as fuck wouldn't be Drusilla.

He needed an equal.

He had yet to meet a woman that was his equal on any level, he mused while slinking into the kitchen. He opened the SubZero refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. Dehydrated from his earlier exertion, he elegantly sipped the liquid. With a graceful gesture, he placed the bottle on the green granite counter and contemplated what type of woman would be the perfect match.

If there indeed WAS a woman--no, a MATE-- good enough for him, she'd have to be aggressive, beautiful beyond compare, intelligent and ruthless. Not that a woman could really be all those things, but if she could… he would happily, spend the rest of his life fighting her for control.

His black eyes seemed to glow at the thought- that could be interesting, IF she existed…

A low moan echoed through the mansion, distracting him from his thoughts. Angelus padded across the cool marble floor and up the staircase; following the sound. He heard his brother's voice growl loudly, "That's not my fucking name."

But it wasn't his brother's possible peril that pulled him down the hall and up to the door that was left wide open. It was the silky, patronizing female purr that lured him to take a peek inside.

"Beg me," the wisp of a woman huskily demanded, "Beg me to fuck you."

He was rock hard at the mere sound of her demanding voice, not to mention the sight of her softly curved ass, as she hovered like a cat over his brother's prone body. Golden blond hair spilled down her tan, naked back as she bent down to give his brother head.

Whatever magic she was doing with her mouth had Angel pulling wildly at the restraints as his hips bucked off the bed. Through clenched teeth, Angel hissed something that made the picture all the more interesting.

"My name isn't Angelus!"

The tiny blond pulled away from her task. He could see her little hand firmly grasping the base of Angel's cock as the other reached for a glass filled with crushed ice. She tilted the glass back, ice sliding into her mouth. Both of them were completely unaware that they had an audience.

Angelus leaned against the doorframe, intently watching a scene straight out of his favorite fantasy- well, if Angel wasn't there.

OK, so it left a lot to be desired, but gods...

SHE was perfect.

Her full breasts bounced softly as she sat up on her haunches, peering down at her victim.

In a predatory move, she quickly bent down and seemed to inhale Angel's cock. His brother shouted as if in pain and when she sat up a few seconds later, water streaming in rivulets from the corners of her mouth, it became obvious that she was using the ice to keep him from climaxing. Not that the technique would work forever, but still… how fun.

"Buffy, I swear, Angelus is my twin brother…" Angel gasped painfully.

Her pouty lips twisted into a lovely smirk at his explanation, as she trailed a finger down Angel's chest, "I just can't bring myself to care about your story as much as I care about you begging me to fuck you."

Angelus smiled- here he thought he'd go forever without finding the perfect mate.

"Well, I would beg you to fuck me if you weren't so intent on fucking my brother," he retorted mildly from the bedroom door.

The woman, apparently named Buffy, turned and glared at him, her green eyes furiously staring into his, unabashed at her partial nudity. She leaned over his brother and fluidly untied one of his restraints. In one quick motion, she slid off the bed and covered up Angel's unclothed form, which did nothing to hide the erection that, despite the ice, was tenting the white cotton sheets. Angelus' eyes followed her as she moved to dress.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked while his brother frantically tried to free himself.

"Buffy, untie me," came his twin's intent growl, "NOW."

She didn't bother to look at him, instead tracking Angelus' approach across the large room. His towering form slowly drew closer as she pulled her shirt over her head. He oozed danger and suddenly she understood exactly why Faith had told her she was out of her league.

"I'm afraid to untie you," Buffy answered, her eyes never leaving Angelus.

"You should be more afraid of him," Angel answered, eyeing his brother's approach warily.

Between Angel's fury and Angelus' cold, greedy stare, she chose Angel. With deft hands she reached to undo the restraints holding his feet, but Angelus was too quick. He paused momentarily in the middle of the room to watch their frantic movements, and with a grin, he pounced.

She fumbled with the knots as Angelus' arms surrounded her like a vice from behind. He could feel her heartbeat fluttering from the inside of his arm and dipped his face against the skin of her neck, to inhale her scent.

His mate was nervous, how amusing.

Angel jerked up from the bed too quickly, only tightening the knots that Buffy had just loosened. With one free hand, he worked to untie his other, unable to take his eyes off his brother and the woman who had just spent the last hour and a half giving him the most pleasurable torture he could have imagined. Whatever Angelus would do to her would make the last few hours seem like child's play, and he couldn't let that happen.

"What do you think, Angel? Should she be punished for tying you to the bed?" Angelus purred against her neck, "Or we could use you as a test subject and let her explore her penchant for being a top…"

Angelus' hands moved down her arms, as he slid one hand inside her panties and dipped his fingers into her moist center, "God, she's so fucking wet Angel…"

Angel's eyes flew to meet hers and she watched him desperately working the knot at his arm, knowing there was no way he could get free fast enough to help her or himself. She gave him a little half smile, and nuzzled her cheek against Angeuls' hair.

What the fuck was she doing??? Angel growled at her seeming enjoyment of Angelus' attentions.

"Just close your eyes and pretend it isn't happening," she mumbled quietly to Angel while making her move to save herself. If she failed, she was positive Angelus would make her regret it.

"Fuck that," Angel retorted, never letting his eyes leave the tiny blond for fear of what she'd do next.

With one quick move of her elbow, she jerked back and to the center. Buffy's elbow found Angelus' crotch, and he fell to his knees gasping for air. Angelus' groaned as he fell to the floor, dragging Buffy with him while his hands dug into the soft flesh of her forearms in response to the pain.

Hell, Angelus thought as he curled around her, he expected nothing less from the magnificent creature that had hovered over Angel demanding submission. Before he could respond rationally, she flung the back of her head into his nose, and somehow broke the grip of his arms around her. Blood rushed down his face and he found himself in fetal position howling in pain.

Buffy finished dressing as she rushed toward the bedroom door, "I'm sorry Angel…"

And she was gone, running down the hall in the dark. She turned a corner, stumbled down the stairs and went through the first door she came to hoping it was the exit. Her heart was in her mouth as she realized her wrong turn and she moved to leave the dark room.

She stopped when she heard an animal-like moan. Whatever had made that noise was in serious pain and she ignored her own instinct for self-preservation moving to fumble along the wall for the light switch. Turning towards the noise, she blinked to adjust her eyes to the bright light of the room. Nothing could begin to adjust her to what lay on the floor in front of her. A woman was sprawled on the floor face down. Her naked back looked as if someone had whipped her, leaving open masses of welts that were raw and bloody. Buffy gagged at the sight, covering her mouth with her hands. Tentatively she moved forward, intending to check the woman's pulse to see if she were dead when she realized this had to be Angelus' work.

And she had left Angel tied to the bed alone with him.


I Need Guidance To Be True

Part 10

Over Angelus' groans, Angel heard a loud noise from the first floor, "Angel, ya' here?"

It was Doyle, thank Whomever, nobody else felt comfortable enough just walking into the place.

A female voice stated worriedly, "Someone's moaning… Oh my God, she's killing him."

A rush of foot steps could be heard from the first floor, Angel surveyed the sheet barely covering his body and worked harder to untie the simple knots Buffy had made. Being found tied to the bed was a concern, but the homicidal brother moaning on the floor wouldn't stay down forever. Buffy was somewhere in this house, and Angel wasn't sure that Doyle could stop Angelus if it came down to it.

He shook off the thoughts as his hand wormed free and quickly untied his feet as Doyle and the annoying woman from dinner walked into his bedroom.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Doyle gasped.

"I told you she killed him," Cordelia snipped from the hall as she pushed her way past Doyle, "O.K., not killed as much as maimed…"

Angel tried to ignore the tall, mouthy brunette and spoke to Doyle, "That is Angelus, and I think you two should leave."

Cordelia glanced from Angelus to Angel appreciatively and rested her hands on her hips, "Yeah, good luck getting me out of here before someone tells me what happened."

"Where are the others?" Angel asked distractedly.

"Ah, Gunn thought you'd take her to the apartment, so their checking it out as we speak, the bastard owes me $100, he didn't believe you'd be serious enough to bring her here…"

As Angel finally undid the last knot, he growled at Doyle, who abruptly stopped talking. Wrapping the white bed sheet around his waist he wobbly stood, letting the blood rush back into this arms and legs.

"You need to leave," he demanded in a determined voice.

His friend stared at him, "You OK to handle this?"

Angel let out a long breath, "Yeah, I have to find Buffy and get her out of here in one piece…it be better if you two weren't here when Angelus recovers."

Doyle glanced down at Angelus and realization dawned on him, "That little blond did this?"

Angel stood with his shoulders slumped staring down at his brother who was moaning on the floor in pain. God, what had she done?

"He'll kill her…"

Angel shrugged his shoulders and glowered Doyle's way, "Not if I kill her first."

The three turned toward the door in surprise as a scream came from the first floor. Angel pushed past the pair in front of him while picking up a pair of boxers and ran down the stairs in the dark. He dropped the sheet as he moved through the dark hopping one leg at a time into his shorts.

Cordelia couldn't help but to catch a glimpse of long, well iron like legs that led up to an ass that could crack walnuts… Good, God she was going to need a cold shower when she got home, that or "Two Moon Junction" and a vibrator…

She grabbed Doyle's arm and pulled him out of the room, "I really don't want to be here when Angelus wakes up."

Doyle nodded his agreement and they hustled down stairs after Angel. Doyle watched for a moment as his friend flew down the hall at top speed before steering Cordelia out the front door and into the night.

Angel burst into the library and almost tripped over Buffy holding a naked, beaten woman in her arms. Long dark hair obscured the woman's face as the Buffy tried to sooth her hysterical charge. They both looked up at his loud, unexpected entrance and the dark haired woman began screaming again.

Angel gasped as he recognized Drusilla. Despite the wounds on her back, Dru scrambled against Buffy, trying to get behind her. He realized she must think he was Angelus.

"Shhhh… It's Angel… he won't hurt you," the tiny blond whispered soothingly into the woman's hair.

Her green eyes met his over the top of the beaten woman's head, "I think you should call an ambulance."

Angel shook his head in disagreement, unable to take his eyes off his broken stepsister, weeping in Buffy's arms.


Glasses in hand, Rupert Giles pulled a handkerchief out of his robe pocket and began to nervously polish them. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the indentations on each side seemed to grow deeper with each passing year.

He'd thought things would be different by now, but they weren't. Instead of being woken from a deep sleep about news of a grandchild's fever or sickness, he woke to the usual news- his youngest son's latest transgression.

Giles had, in recent years, hoped to bond with his sons over nuptials or children. Instead, Angel had returned to college to get a second Master Degree, for the love of God, Giles couldn't remember what it was Angel studied… Something about psychology, perhaps? Mean while Angelus continued doing… whatever Angelus did with his degree in law.

To put it mildly, Rupert Giles was very disappointed with his sons. And it had just gotten worse.

It was the middle of the night in L.A. when Rupert Giles woke up to his private cell phone's soft, feminine voice saying, "You have a message," repeatedly.

Janna had gotten it for him as a gift last Christmas, insisting that he keep it with him at all times-- in case her or `his boys' needed him. At the time, Rupert had chuckled at the thought of the twins needing his supervision and then frowned as memories of being woken in the middle of the night to be informed of another one of Angelus' violent escapades filtered in to consciousness.

Only family members had access to him through it, and it was usually Janna who called him.

He had grabbed the phone from his nightstand and glanced at his wife who moved to her side in her sleep. Her dark, earthy beauty overwhelmed him, and he bent to press a soft kiss against her temple before taking his phone across the hall to his study.

He had hired Janna seven years ago as a consultant, or as his assistant, Ethan, had aptly put it, his tutor in the dark art of technology. Being well versed in Finance and Economics was no longer enough to keep up in this world. Janna opened his eyes to the seemingly endless communication possibilities technology offered and had helped him effectively use them. She had also opened his eyes in other areas and he found himself in love for the second time in his life.

As he listened to his eldest son's terse message, he was instantly thankful for all technology. Rupert dialed frantically and his son picked up on the first ring.


Rupert did not wait for more explanation than had been given in the message, "Who hurt her?"

A soft female voice could be heard soothing Dru who was crying in the background. Rupert made a mental note to find out whom that person was and reward them generously. What he didn't hear was Angel answering him.

"Answer me now, Angel," he hissed over the phone.

"I just found my stepsister naked with her back flayed open, so you'll have to excuse me for not answering quickly enough, Father," Angel snidely growled back, "As for the perpetrator, who the fuck do you think it was? We found her in YOUR library, her blood and other bodily fluids are all over the terms YOU made for OUR early inheritance… What did you think Angelus would do, ACTUALLY get married?"

Giles paused, neither of his offspring had ever dared raise their voices to him before. He could hardly believe it was Angel who had gathered the courage to do it first, "You're blaming me for your stepsister's condition?"

God, he was being an asshole to his son, Giles mused while listening to Angel growl the next sentence.

"You're to blame for a lot of things, Rupert. For ignoring that Angelus is a sociopath, for paying off all the other women he's done this too, and for… Fuck this. I only called so Janna would know; she actually cares about her offspring. I'll get a hold of Whistler to clean up the mess."

And the line disconnected.

Rupert sat down heavily in a brown leather chair that creaked from age as he hit end on the cell. The best things in his life had happened to him in this chair. Nora had told him she was pregnant while he sat here. The doctor had told him of the birth of his twin boys, but with the good came the bad. In the next breath he had told him of the complications, of Nora's death.

This chair had seen a lot. It had been witness to his vow to never love anyone again, not even his sons. It had been there to see him break that vow when he allowed Janna into his life. And now, sitting in this chair, his heart ached. In his grief, he'd turned his back his first love and their sons. He had failed Nora completely and he had no idea what to do to make that right.

Now he had to tell Janna he failed her, too.

He had to wake her from a peaceful sleep and tell her what his son had done to her daughter. He shuddered at the thought of Drusilla's fragile, broken form. Knowing what Angelus was capable of, had done in the past, was no comfort to him.

Rupert Giles wasn't sure if he had the strength to bear Janna leaving him over this, and he suspected she would. All he knew for sure was his plan to force his sons to settle down had backfired spectacularly.


Don't Know Where I Can Begin

Part 11

Silently, the front doors opened, allowing a man of medium height, build appearance inside. Dressed in unassuming black trousers, tee shirt and sports jacket, he left no real impression at all. An unassuming, black leather bag swung in his hand as he glanced around the familiar entry.

With a soft tread, he sauntered through the front hall, slipping the buttons loose as he went so the bulky coat hung open. He slipped a hand inside the sports jacket to make sure his Glock .357 was within easy reach. Knowing where his gun was at all times seemed like a good idea with Angelus around.

Fuck, it was a good idea period, he mused silently.

A soft shuffling came from the hall of the open stairway. Whistler froze and glanced up to see Angelus appear from above. A small smile slipped across his features as he watched Angelus come limping down the stairs, obviously in great pain.

As fun as it was to see Angelus suffering, it occurred to Whistler that it might be best to avoid the psychopath while he was in this state. Whistler padded down the hall with a quick step and pushed open the library door. Angel was standing sentry over his stepsister and a tiny blond thing that was cooing words of comfort to Drusilla. Sighing, he shook his head in disgust at the sight of her back. Wide stripes of raw flesh criss crossed her back, tearing into the muscle. Angelus needed to be taken care of, but it didn't look like he'd be taken out anytime soon.

"Angel," Whistler stated calmly, not wanting to startle the large man who seemed to be in protective mode, "I'm here to take care of Drusilla."

He walked up to the glowering man who was staring at him dangerously despite the fact that he stood clad only in his boxers. Angel's arms were crossed, as if he were trying to hold himself back as his glance returned to the women on the floor, a muscle twitching his clenched jaw.

Whistler got closer to the two women, "Hello, my name is Whistler. I'm here to take care of this situation."

Green eyes glowered up at him and he was taken back at their intensity. The petite woman practically growled at him, "Who the hell are you and what do you mean by, `Taking care of the situation?'"

The little thing thought she could protect Drusilla. From him. That was kind of cute. Whistler concealed a smile and tried to sooth her.

"Well, I'm going to take Drusilla home to her mother after injecting her with some pain killers," he explained while getting a syringe out of his brief case, "I'm just waiting for you give me a little room to do my job."

Her face turned into a scowl as she glanced from the vulnerable woman and back to Whistler, "If you hurt her, I'll tear out your rib cage and wear it as a hat."

Angel sounded from above, "Pretty sure she'll do it Whistler."

The shorter man looked up at Angel and realized abruptly that he wasn't tense just because of his stepsister. Nope, the man was glowering at the woman holding her… well, maybe it was more like a glowering lust filled look. There was a story here that he didn't have time to figure out. If Angel were any one else, he'd guess the poor bastard was in love. A smile spread over his bland face and he actually laughed.

"I love a woman with balls, don't you, Angel?" He ignored the glare from tall, dark and broody as he moved to inject Drusilla, "Nice imagery by the way... Miss?"

"Ms.- And you can call me Buffy."

Whistler stood and surveyed the room for damage. Spotting a group of bloody papers on a large desk, he sauntered over to collect them. I'm guessing these will be pivotal, he thought to himself. It wouldn't do anyone any good to leave evidence. He was getting sick of cleaning up after this guy. It would make his fucking day if Angelus got what he deserved. The problem, no one around had what it took to stop the sadistic bastard.

He glanced back to see how his charge was doing; she was out cold.

"Angel, get me some sheets to wrap her up in. Then we will tuck her into my car and I'll make the trek to L.A."

Angel nodded tersely and fled the library. Whistler took advantage of the "boy's" absence.

"First of all, this young woman's parents asked me to convey their gratitude for your kindness towards their daughter," he paused taking in the suspicious glance from the woman holding his charge, "I was instructed to give you this."

Whistler handed her a white business card with only a phone number embossed in black.

She raised an eyebrow while reading the number on the card, and clumsily slipped it into her pocket, "Thanks."

He nodded, realizing she didn't understand this was a reward, "This is my client's way of thanking you for your help. If you ever need anything - ever - call that number."

She nodded absentmindedly as she turned towards the door. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched Angel walk through it. Blinking rapidly, she sighed and looked away. Oh yeah, there was a story here, the sweeper thought.


What I Need

Part 12

Stretching one arm up, Lindsay slid his fingers along the top of Angel's doorway. The rich outline of his shoulders strained against the fabric of the deep, blue shirt as he groped until he brushed the metal key. Willow stifled a groan of appreciation she "glanced" down Lindsay's compact, powerful body.

God he had a nice ass. She tried to shake off that thought, there was no way a man like that would be interested in a geek like her.

"Got it," he announced as he grasped the key and turned to lean casually against the door frame, "Now to see who wins the bet, Gunn or Doyle."

Willow stared at her shoes, very aware of her flaming cheeks. The thought of the compromising positions Buffy and Angel were possibly in bothered her to no end. "The Guys" were having quite the opposite reaction. Gunn and Lindsay seemed positively gleeful in their hope that they'd find their friend handcuffed to his bed with Buffy… God. What would Buffy be doing to him? She didn't think it was possible, but she did indeed blush harder.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she looked up to find Lindsay's clear, observant eyes watching her.

"You don't have to come in, ya' know." He reached out and brushed the dark, green fabric of her sleeve, gently moving his hand up and down her arm. Willow shivered and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Stay out here while Gunn and I go check it out."

Her mouth moved without her permission.

"Whadya mean? I'm fine! Really! Just fine. Don't worry about me. I'm A-OK with whatever is happening in there… with the restraints, and the not-so-much-dressed Buffy… And… God. The not-so-much-dressed Angel… Fine!"

Gunn strode toward the tense couple and took the key from Lindsay's hand. "You two stay out here and hold hands; I'm going in. My boy didn't sign up for Operation Bastard, Angelus did."

Gunn's lanky form disappeared into the apartment, leaving Lindsay alone in the hall with Willow.

"You aren't fine, Red," Lindsay stated and moved closer with absolute certainty on his face. Willow stepped back up until she hit the wall. She gulped as he lightly fingered a wisp of flaming red hair and smoothed it from her face.

"Why are you flirting with me?" Willow blurted out nervously, smacking away the oh, so pleasurable warmth of his hand.

A confused look crossed his face, "Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm not your type. I'm mousy, nerdy, a geek. You should have gone for Cordelia…"

A grin split his face, as he placed his right hand on the wall next to her head and leaned in. Willow felt a jolt of anger laced lust burn through her, as his lips got precariously close. How dare he be amused by her! His warm breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "Bullshit."

"What the hell does that mean?" Willow crossed her arms trying to create distance between them. Lindsay placed his left hand on the other side of her head, effectively blocking her in.

"It is a role," he stated simply, "Women get up in the morning and put on their serious student role, their high powered executive role or their blond bomb shell role. If a man is patient, someday she might let him see the real her…"

A southern drawl was getting more pronounced as he spoke. Willow was getting distracted by the thought that he might be letting her catch a glimpse of the real Lindsay when his words, jerked her back to reality.

"…want to see the real Willow. I want to see you sure of yourself, in charge, and I want to see you flaunt the beauty you've hidden behind those dowdy clothes," his voice dropped an octave, getting husky with desire, "But most of all, I want to see your flaming, red hair spilling like silk through my fingers, and your eyes… just like they are now, drowsy with lust for me."

She glared at him, ignoring the warm jerk in her stomach, "Does that line usually work for you?"

Willow vaguely heard Gunn's voice over the pounding of her heart as she watched Lindsay's square jaw tense. He stared at her silently for one, long moment before pushing off the wall and turning toward the door.

"He must have taken her to the mansion," Lindsay replied drawl long gone. She forcibly pulled her gaze away from him as he flipped a cell phone to Gunn, "Call Doyle and see if we can go home."

Willow's heart sunk at the implication of his words "Go home."

Silence hung in the hallway as Gunn dialed and waited for an answer. Lindsay leaned against the wall opposite Willow, arms crossed in a, sexy casual stance. He looked posed.

"Do you practice that pose in the mirror?"

God, what was she doing??? He was beautiful, he was hitting on her and she was driving him away!

His mouth curled, as if on the edge of laughing, "I'll drive you home, darlin'."

Willow stared at him, wrestling with the urge to be angry at his presumption and other more pleasant urges.

"Looks like I lost the bet," Gunn groaned, "I owe Irish fifty bucks."

Neither Willow nor Lindsay really paid attention to Gunn as he grumped down the hall behind them to Lindsay's car.


Part 13

It was the inky dark you only get at 2:00 A.M. Willow glanced out the window, trying to keep her mind on the foggy black that surrounded the car as they sped along the river toward her apartment.

It wasn't working, as fog doesn't really provide much distraction.

Lindsay hadn't spoken to her except in a series of grunts, which she had deciphered as either "Yes," or "No". Who could blame him? He made every effort to, well, hit on her, only to be rebuked at every turn. But really, `His Line' about wanting to know the real Willow. God, that was…

Kind of sweet, actually, but surely it was just `His Line' and she would not allow it to have an effect. Nope. No effect. She would stand strong against His Line. Strong and firm… like his hands when he ran them down her arms…

She shivered at the thought and glanced Linds' way. He was intent on driving, but the clamped twitch in his jaw muscle indicated he was thinking of more than driving, and it was so damn sexy.

"Thanks for going out of your way to drive me home."

A grunt was his reply. She could do better than this, groveling for forgiveness after a huge spaz was second nature by now. He was just showing interest in her after all, and he was hot. She had completely been rude to an extremely good-looking man who was hitting on her. That was, well, stupid.

"I kind of, was rude to you back at Angel's apartment. I'm sorry about that, but when I'm nervous sometimes I kind of freak. And, I'm just saying, sorry."

He tilted his brow to glance at her uncertainly, which was the most attention he'd paid her since the hallway. She took it as a sign of progress.

"Anyway, I'm not normally that rude and I…" she paused as her apartment complex came into view, "Turn left into that parking lot. I'm in the third building on the right."

Linds followed her directions silently as he parked the car and turned off the ignition. Without a word, he hopped out of the car. Willow fumbled with the door only to have him open it for her. The flesh of his hand clasped hers tightly, as he helped her out of the car. She stood and found herself flush against him. The warm press of his body caused her breath to catch in her throat and she was disappointed when he stepped away, giving her room to shut the car door.

"Can I walk you to your door?" He asked, a slight grin quirking up the sides of his mouth.

She nodded wordlessly, heading toward the lobby. He held the door for her as she walked in and turned down the hall to her apartment. The hall was wide enough for them to walk side by side and she felt almost giddy from the brush of his arm against hers. Fumbling with her keys, she opened her apartment door.

"Do you want to come in for some coffee?"

He smiled down at her, "No."

She tried to hide her disappointment, by glancing down. "Oh. OK, well…"

His fingers brushed her chin, tilting her face toward his. His kiss was surprisingly gentle and she was shocked at the impact of the tender touch of his lips to hers. Her heart pounded in an erratic rhythm as she pushed herself to him, relishing the feel of his hard body. She gasped against his mouth as his arms wrapped around her, locking her in his embrace as her body tingled at the contact.

His mouth worked against hers, tongue flicking lightly against her bottom lip, and she opened to him. He laid a series of light, flickering kisses against her cheeks and down her jaw until she arched against him. Blood pounded through her as his hands lightly brushed her body, making her dizzy with want.

He broke away from their kiss, a serious look crossing his features, "I want to see you again, and I'm afraid if I come in…"

Willow avoided eye contact, "Coffee never hurt anyone yet, has it?"

She didn't see the smile that crossed his features as he watched her blush, "Well, not if you're careful."

The red stain deepened on her cheeks and she met his eyes, "We can be careful, right?"

He nodded enthusiastically and huskily whispered, "Really. Really. Careful."

He reclaimed her lips, crushing her against him as he pushed her into the apartment and closed the door.

Willow fumbled in his arms reaching blindly out to the wall for the light switch. As she did so, they stumbled to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. Their lips never lost contact. Lindz hovered over her in a half push-up, afraid he would crush her with his weight and covered her lips with an open mouthed kiss. She arched against him, wanting to feel the heat of his body. He took her reaction favorably and slid his hands underneath the small of her back, urging her closer letting her feel the inflexible proof of his arousal pressed solidly into the apex of her thighs. Willow moaned softly into his mouth while skimming fingers along his back, rejoicing at the play of his muscles underneath her hands. With one impatient jerk, she pulled the tail of his shirt from the waist of his pants groaning into his mouth at the skin on skin contact.

Her action must have served as a signal to him, and he quickly divested her of her clothes. In a few rough jerks, she was naked and shivering in the dark room. She couldn't see him, and had a moment of panic wondering where he was, but the soft sound of him undressing gave her comfort.

"Can I help?" She asked, her voice rough with want.

There was no answer except his hands pushing her back on to the floor. She could see the dark outline of him kneeling between her thighs as his hands ran across her rib cage up to her breasts. She wanted the lights on, she wanted to see his face. Twisting away from his grasp, she tried scooting away to get the light. One hand on her forearm stopped her.

"I want the light."

He didn't reply, instead he hovered over her nipping and kissing at the flesh of her neck, moving in one, hot, wet line down her breast bone. He paused in a moment of indecision, and went left, mouthing his way to one, rosy peak before suckling, as all thoughts of the lights left Willows consciousness. A whine left her throat as he laved the pebbled point, and she held his head to her desperately.

So caught up in his oral ministration, she didn't notice his hands until they forcibly thrust her thighs apart. She gasped at the feel of his thumbs as they gently pushed her open; delving into her wetness and moving up to pinch her clitoris between them. She lost her breath from the intense pleasure of his tongue and hands, her back bowing up as she made small noises in her throat.

"Please." She gasped, "Please."

His reply was to hold her clit harder, pressing with quick urgency against her. She screamed her release, jerking her hips against him involuntarily. Pleasure surged almost painfully through her as he continued contact, wetness seeping from her as she thrashed below him.

"Too much…" Willow gasped trying to pull away from the sweet torture of his hands.

His movements slowed until he was only pressing with light, deliberate, unhurried circles around her clitoris, keenly mindful of the screams of pleasure from his partner.

He leaned in until he was a warm, breathy inch away from her ear and whispered, "You don't really want me to stop, do you?"

She really didn't, but she couldn't form a verbal response to his question except for a series of incoherent moans at the wet pressure of his fingers. His body caused electric-like shocks to course through her body. She desperately needed more of him, and unconsciously raised her legs, wrapping them around his slim hips in attempt to drive vital parts of Lindsay closer.

It worked. His body dipped down and he moved his hands to adjust his position above her. She raised her hips, coming into contact with the long, turgid length of him. His cock rubbed her wet center, and in one thrust he was firmly inside her hot, fluttering depths.

A long hum of satisfaction left Linds as he paused, relishing the feel of her liquid heat for a moment. His strong fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips as he slowly withdrew and slid back inside. A low growl of approval came deep from his throat as Willow arched to meet his thrusts, her back bowing from the pleasure. He dropped down, covering her tiny frame with his much larger one and jack hammered his hips against her in a punishing rhythm.

Lindsay felt her clenching around him and watched with primal satisfaction as Willow threw back her head, letting out of wail of completion. Her long pale neck glowed like marble in the dark as she arched against him. Letting out his breath, he gave into the clenching pressure low in his balls as thrust erratically. White- hot pleasure strummed through his body as he gave one, final thrust and moan into her hair as he held himself shuddering to her wet, hot body.

Withdrawing, he rolled to the side and pulled her head against his bare chest. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair and said, "Sweetheart, we've got to do that again."


Part 14

Juggling coffee, a briefcase and keys was no easy task. Slipping the paper coffee cup from Caribou Coffee between her bicep and her ribs, was even harder while she eased her keys into the keyhole only to have the office door flung open.

Willow stood in the doorway blocking Buffy's entrance into the small office they shared with a disgruntled look on her usually peaceful features. Buffy couldn't help it, she began to blush.

"Don't say anything," she growled while pushing past her "business partner" and into the foyer of their tiny suite of offices.

"Did I say a word? No. Not a word. I'm all un-word-y, but I DO have a few sentences for you."

Buffy rolled her eyes and miserably stomped off to her office trying to get away from the verbal assault that was sure to follow her down the beige hall. Willow, true to her nature, was on her heels, ignoring Buffy's attempts to escape. She waited patiently for Buffy to get situated, watching as her friend nervously played with her laptop before gulping down a few swallows of coffee.

"Now that you're fully caffeinated, would you mind telling me what the hell happened last night?"

A heated flush red crept up Buffy's neck as she avoided eye contact, "I made a mistake. BIG mistake."

Willow leaned back against the wall, "Are you OK? I mean... did you, did he..."

"NO. Well- not really. Not at all. It was horrible." The tiny blond rubbed her temples as images of last night danced in her head. "God, Angel must hate me. Hate! Not to mention I practically maimed Angelus..."

A knock at the office door caused both of them jump. Willow's eyes grew hopeful when she saw the deliveryman in the doorway holding clipboard. Thoughts of the night she shared with Lindsay and the possibility of flowers popped into her head.

"Can I help you?" Willow asked a little too eagerly.

Buffy glanced at her friend, wondering who she was expecting a delivery from with such anticipation.

The young man glanced down at a sheet of paper, "I have a delivery for Buffy Summers, either of you her?"

Wearily, Buffy nodded, "That would be me."

The young man turned and shouted some orders into the hallway before crossing the small space in the office and handing her the clip board to sign, "I don't know how we are going to get them all in here..."

"All what?" she asked suspiciously.

"All the flowers," he replied as men began filing into her office holding large crystal vases filled with deep purple irises, "I guess they'll have to set them on the floor."

Willow glared Buffy's way, "I thought you said you and Angel didn't… well, you know."

Buff threw up her hands in surrender, "We didn't! I swear to God!"

Within minutes her office was overflowing with Waterford crystal and enough flowers to fill a cathedral. Vases spilled out into the hallway and to the foyer of the office as the two women stared open mouthed. After the last vase was placed ceremoniously on the front desk, the delivery boy approached her holding a single white iris and handed it to Buffy.

"He said specifically to give this to you," the guy stated with a shrug, "Kinda' weird, no offense."

Buffy stared at the delicate white iris. A crimson ribbon held a small note card to the flower; flipping it open Buffy stared at the message in shock.

Be seeing you soon, Angelus

Buffy glanced up at her friend and handed her the card, "This can't be good."


Part 15

Long, blond, banana curls bounced against the receptionist's back as she lead Buffy into the sunlit office and held the door open for her. Smiling, she nodded at a long, brown, leather couch. Buffy hesitated before stepping inside, glancing at the lavender walls' only decorations- the good Doctor's credentials. They were tastefully matted and framed in dark, walnut. The tiny figure sighed and stepped across the threshold and into the room.

"Dr. Wyndham-Pryce will be with you in just a few minutes," the short blond reassured her in a soothing tone, "Please make yourself comfortable."

Buffy's usual brilliant smile was replaced with a smirk, as she walked past the receptionist and plopped down on the sofa. Sunlight poured through the window behind her, brightening up the softly lit room. She played with the pillows on the couch, nervously arranging the fringe. Jumping as the door creaked open, she glanced up as the doctor, intently studying a note pad, entered.

"So, what brings about your emergency visit after a three month absence?"

The tall, trim man's English accent soothed Buffy a little as she watched him deposited his lean form on the brown, leather over- stuffed chair. As he bent forward to grasp his Mont Blanc pen, Buffy tried to catch a glimpse of what was written on the bright, white tablet he held in his hands. She was too slow. He adjusted his tailored jacket; unbuttoning as he eased back into his chair while glancing up from the notebook.

He waited silently for answer, bright, blue eyes curiously evaluating the small figure that sat clutching one of the violet throw pillows in a death grip.


Buffy sighed, and glanced down at the pillow, kneading it nervously, "I raped a man last night."

Wyndham-Pryce's startled look would have been very unsettling to his patient, had she glanced up from her pillow. Recovering quickly, he donned a more reserved expression.

"I do remember during our last session that you thought it would be healthy to take a more active role in your sexual relationships," he paused, not sure where he was going with this, "is it possible that you're shaming yourself for exploring your sexuality?"

Bloody Hell; that did not come out well at all, he thought, groaning inwardly. He watched his client shrink back into the sofa, not meeting his eyes once.

"No," Buffy muttered, "I tied him to the bed while he was drunk and then took advantage of him."

Wesley gulped. Loudly. But, he made an impressive come back. No pun intended, he mused.

"I see, he was unconscious?"

Buffy peeped up from her pillow, "No. Gross!"

"Ah, then he was begging you to stop?"

"Well, no," she answered, blushing a deep red, "He was pretty much begging me not to stop…"

She paused, and hugged the pillow tighter.


"He just kept telling me he wasn't Angelus over and over, but I wouldn't listen. It was awful," she whispered, "And that is why I think I raped him."

Wesley stared at his patient, trying to figure out why the hell her lover thought SHE thought he was a devotion in memory of the Annunciation.

"You thought he was a prayer?" he asked incredulously.

A frown marred her pretty face as she looked at Wesley as if he were crazy, "No, I thought Angel was his twin brother, Angelus… Why would I think he was a prayer?"

"Angelus is a Catholic prayer recited in the morning, at noon and again at night," Wesley explained in a scholarly fashion, much more comfortable discussing the origin of the name than the fact that his patient had been involved in bondage.

With twins.

Perhaps he had jumped the gun when he suggested she explore her sexuality. To be perfectly honest, he thought she'd probably start by herself with a vibrator… No, he was being judgmental. And, as he pictured his client involved in various postures, he was forced to use his notebook to camouflage his growing discomfort.

He was flubbing this interview beautifully. He took a deep breath and tried again, "I think you should let me know what has been going on these last three months that have led up to you thinking you've raped a man."

Buffy nodded in agreement and told her story.

Twenty minutes later, Wyndham-Pryce again found himself using his notebook for cover, but now he had a firm grasp, so to speak, on the situation.

"Did this man you had tied to the bed…"

"His name is Angel."

"…yes, Angel," he replied, suddenly acutely aware of whom Buffy had been with, "did he at any point ask you to stop?"

Buffy's eye seemed to flutter upward as she tried to remember that night, "No, he didn't."

"Did he scream for someone to help him, seem traumatized at all?"

His client squirmed in her seat, stroking the pillow.

"No, he was pissed that I thought he was Angelus…"

"But, he didn't, `Say NO,' so to speak?"

She sighed, "No, he didn't."

"Well, then, what makes you think you raped him? Our time is up. Please make an appointment for Thursday," Wesley stated as he rushed out the office door.

Gods, how was he going to face his colleague, Angel Giles, during faculty supervision this afternoon?

Wesley hurriedly dropped his file and tape of the session in a pile for his secretary to manage and fled to his office. In his rush, he completely missed his colleague's presence behind him. Angel watched with intense interest as Buffy exited behind Wesley's retreating form up to the receptionist's desk. Without hesitation, Angel picked up the file and the tape Wesley just dropped off and made a beeline to his own office.

*     *     *

"You're Buffy, aren't you?"

She tried to ignore the attractive young man standing to her left and took a sipped Diet Coke and Kettle One. Low fat. Low carbs. Lots of alcohol. What more could a girl ask for? Other than to be left alone? It was one of the things she liked the most about coming to the Bronze; you could be with people without being with them. She enjoyed sitting in large, smoke filled, dark rooms while being surrounded by complete strangers. Rows of clean glasses and bright, shiny bottles filled with expensive alcohol lined shelves in front of mirrors giving her a sense of order in chaos. The white noise of murmured conversation in the background was soothing to her soul… and she needed a drink. Badly.

Especially after receiving bouquets of purple irises this morning.

She'd pretty much had a melt down after the delivery of flowers to her office. Crystal vases as big as her waist filled with masses of irises were currently littering her workspace making it impossible to actually get anything done. The soft scent filled her with foreboding as she had walked through the beautiful arrangements. Especially when she noticed at the center of each mound of flowers was one, perfect, white iris. It's pale beauty stood out among the lush lavender surrounding it. Tucked into the foliage next to the single irises was card after card… each with one word written: Soon.

For some reason, that word bothered her more than her terrible session with her shrink. She grabbed her laptop and headed to the bar in hopes that she'd get a few hours alone with a stiff drink and her laptop.

"You went out with my old college room mate, Riley Finn… right?" She was yanked back to the reality by the persistent, young man standing to her left.

Fuck. She had been here for less than five minutes and the Spanish Inquisition had already begun. This wasn't supposed to happen, she thought, people weren't supposed get here until much later. She rolled her eyes in disgust and typed away on her tiny, Sony VAIO® TR1A Notebook.

"I don't' want to piss you off if you are, so don't take offense," the young man insisted, "but you have to remember me. You used to buy me beer when I was underage..."

She sighed and glared up at the poor guy. A glare from her should send men running and screaming, but this one's jovial baby blues were indifferent. At five feet three inches and a mere 105 pounds, it must have been hard for him to believe she was a scary person.

Clearly, the word about her tying Angel to his bed hadn't gotten around yet. "I'm busy," was her reply and she returned her attention to her laptop's glowing screen.

It was true. She was busy. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and she had had been guilted into seeing her father and his new bride, not to mention her bratty, little sister. She really needed to get this done before she left. The keys clicked rapidly as Buffy manipulated her wysiwyg to put the finishing touches on a website when the young man gently rested a hand on her shoulder.

A shudder went through her. She didn't like to be touched. She especially didn't like to be touched by strangers. A surge of anger corded inside her, and she grabbed the guy's wrist, bending it at an awkward angle while he yelped in pain. He jerked his hand away, holding it gingerly.

"Ouch!" He gasped.

She turned and continued typing, "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

His now wary eyes flicked over her as he took a few steps back, "Jesus, that hurt…"

Work time seemed to be over. The Bronze HAD been empty except for the traditional female bartender. Buffy had noticed a few people were starting to wander in. It was late in the afternoon on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The change orders she'd been working on were pretty much complete. With a little fine-tuning, it would be ready for her client to view tomorrow. Slipping a disk into the CD burner, she made a quick copy just in case. If she had learned nothing else in this life, she had learned to always have back up. Annoyed, Buffy trained her eyes on the individual that stupidly decided to sit down at her table.

"What the fuck do you want?" she sniped.

He had the nerve to grin. Stupid asshole.

"You don't remember me at all, do you?"

She powered down her laptop while shaking her head in the negative. No good deed went unpunished, it seemed. That would teach her not to buy beer for the under aged. Why the hell would she remember him? Who was he anyway? Buffy stared a little harder, but couldn't place him.

"You went out with Riley your Senior year, before your mother passed away? I'm his annoying little frat brother Aaron."

She vaguely remembered Aaron. He was never that little, in fact he had stood a foot taller than her the whole time she had known him, but skinny as a rail. Not now. At this moment his black tee shirt was straining against broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Shit. Riley. She had no desire to see him. OK, that was an understatement. She'd rather be tortured by demons than see Riley Finn. Finn always tried to make more of their relationship that it was…

"God, Riley isn't HERE, is he?"

"Nah, not yet…"

And as she sat there, she noticed tall, dark and beautiful sitting at the bar glaring at her and Aaron. Angel. Buffy stared open mouthed for a moment before turning back to Aaron.

"Yeah, I kind of remember you," she admitted grudgingly, peeking back at Angel, "but that doesn't explain why you're bugging me"

"Aww, come on. I just wanted to know if the stories my Riley told about you were true," he continued oblivious to her angry glare, "He said you had a black belt and could kick his ass nine ways from Sunday,"

Aaron rubbed his wrist with a wry smile, "I guess he wasn't kidding."

Buffy sighed. Aaron must have remembered she was one big marshmallow underneath. Always was too nice to the kid.

"What are you drinking?" She asked with a groan, "I'll buy if you make sure no one steals my equipment while I'm at the bar."

"Bud Lite," he said to her retreating back.

She wandered up to the bar and placed an order. A few years ago she would have been rushing around getting ready for Happy Hour in an impossibly short, tight, black skirt and three inch heels. She got the job when she was 18, getting past the whole 21 issue by pretending she was just a cocktail waitress.


Tonight, as usually, there was no cocktail waitress in sight, and Buffy felt badly for the woman behind the bar. The night before Thanksgiving produced the highest sales of alcohol for the entire year. People always thought New Years Eve was the money night, but that holiday doesn't bring about the desperate urge to drown your family sorrows that the big turkey fest did.

Stupid turkeys.

Impatiently she tapped her fingers against the upbraided, copper bar as the bartender filled a few people's orders. She hated waiting, and she was trying to avoid Angel's fixed stare. She grabbed the drinks and rushed toward the table in time to see Aaron gesturing her way while speaking to a man whose back was toward her. Buffy let her eyes wander past slim hips, waist, up to wide shoulders and finally to fine, blond hair. He turned around at Aaron's gesture, gray eyes flicking up and down her body in a clearly appraising gesture.

Taking a deep breath Buffy returned a quiet, appraising glance. Meeting up with an ex was all about reestablishing who was alpha. Between Riley and her, it was never a battle.

Buffy caught his gaze and held it while walking up to the table. A wide grin crossed his features as she sat the drinks down, never once breaking the stare.

"Long time no see," he stated, "How did I come to be graced with your presence?"

She won. He spoke first. It was an unwritten rule that whoever spoke first won. A small smile crossed her lips as she tried not to gloat.

"How's the Master's program?" she asked bringing a glass to her lips while she sat. Another unwritten rule was: never answer the question asked, it's true! She wasn't making this shit up.

He moved her brief case from the chair beside her and sat down.

"So we're gonna' play it this way. Fine. I'm almost done. MBA is almost all accounted for, and you?"

She glared at him, "What do you mean play it this way? I asked a polite question about school…"

His shook his head and smiled. Abruptly, he signaled a cocktail waitress; ignoring her comment. She hadn't needed to go up to the bar after all, if she were completely honest with herself, she'd admit that she wanted to get close to Angel. Riley quietly asked for a menu while warmly smiling at the terribly attractive young woman taking his order. Clearly, Riley was hitting on the waitress bringing Buffy back to the reason she had stopped going out with him.

He wasn't exactly faithful.

She took a long gulp of her double. The Spanish Inquisition would be more fun than this. Thank Whomever, Aaron interrupted, "Buff, lets dance."

The small blond gulped down her drink and followed Aaron to the dance floor.


Part 16

"Marie, cancel my appointments for the afternoon," Angel growled to the young woman who ran their office.

It had taken him all of three seconds to do an about-face and follow Buffy out of the office, file in hand. He trailed her to a trashy little bar and sat outside thumbing through the contents of her file. Wesley's notes concerning Angel's "would be lover" confused him, it wasn't until he popped the tape cassette into his car's stereo that he felt enlightened. As he listened to the obviously distressed tone in her voice, he could hardly believe this was the same woman from last night. As the tape went on, Angel let out a low groan. He could pin point the exact moment Wesley realized Buffy was talking about him. The uncomfortable pause and the higher pitch to Wesley's voice as he uttered, "...yes, Angel," gave his colleague away.

"Son of a Bitch." Angel snapped off the stereo and punched his steering wheel in frustration after listening to Wesley make his last point.

Why exactly hadn't Angel say, "No?" Not once had he asked her to stop, an insight he clearly wasn't comfortable with. Her confession to Wesley completely cleared her as far as Angel was concerned. Her was on the ragged edge of tears when she admitted her initial attracted to him occurred before she thought he was Angelus. Buffy was all that she seemed: innocent, wanton, sincere... and so much more. As he considered her innocence, his conscience began to twitch, sending him a wave of guilt- What he was doing was incredibly unethical, not to mention the whole stalking issue, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He wanted her, he thought as he got out of the car and strode into the bar, and he would win her over if it was the last thing he'd ever do.

* * *

It occurred to Buffy that she was so, very drunk when she stumbled against Aaron while they swayed to the random thumping from the speakers set just behind them. The music transitioned, slowing down and Aaron paused to look nervously down at her. Before he could form the words, "Wanna' slow dance?" Two strong arms slipped around her waist from behind. She felt a wall of muscle against her back as Angel's smoky voice sent a shiver down her spine, "Can I cut in?"

Aaron looked at the larger man with great trepidation and took a step away from his dance partner. Angel's stony glare was all the boy needed to send him packing. Before Buffy could refuse, Aaron's answered, "No problem! I was just thinking it was a great time for a break- See ya' Buff."

Before Buffy could protest her abandonment, Angel spun her around, pulling her flush against him. In an assertive gesture against his possessiveness, she pushed away, but the room continued to spin and she stumbled into him almost falling. Her heart thudded and her breathing came rapidly as he caught her and helped her to stand. She noticed off-handedly that her hands wouldn't go half way around his forearms and she began to tremble. It was really stupid to mess with a man as powerful as Angel seemed to be. Sure, she had put Angelus on the floor, but that was only because she had the element of surprise on her side. Currently she was drunk, guilt-ridden and pressed to the solid wall of flesh that was Angel. Escape didn't seem probable, so she said something she'd never said to a man before in her life.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, peeking up through the black lace of her eyelashes at the man she'd abused the night before.

She glanced down sadly as, tears blurred her view of the crisp, white-shirt he was wearing. His arms stiffened around her at her words. Abruptly, his strong fingers grasped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"You're crying," he murmured gruffly, "Come on."

He pulled her from the dance floor and into the hall that led to the pool tables in the back room. Blindly stumbling, she followed him into the empty area of the bar. Pool cues were tossed half-hazardly across the green felt of the tables and Angel shoved them aside as he picked Buffy up and placed her gently on the edge of the table.

She could barely bring herself to meet his searing stare and gasped as he roughly lifted her, easily spanning the width of her forearms with one hand as he forced her to be still. With the other hand, he wiped ineffectively at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Buffy, I'll admit, I was angry that you thought I was Angelus. What I want to know is, was that your only reason for talking to me in the first place? Was the whole night a set up?"

He had to hear what drew her to him from her lips.

She shivered at the dark undertone in his voice, and looked up at him with pleading eyes, "No. No, I didn't think you were Angelus until dinner. I swear..."

At her admission, his mouth covered hers in a hot, wet kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Part 17

"My poor boy," Darla sighed as she pressed cold compresses against his ruined nose. He had listened to her rant how it offended her to no end that some arrogant bitch had the nerve to damage his precious profile. With one hand, she traced idle patterns across tight, leather-clad thighs as she straddled his waist and made shushing noises. Angelus gasped at the intentionally, painful pressure of her hand.

"Darla," he growled, "I'm not in the mood for your little games."

With one hand, he pushed her to the floor where she lay in an inelegant heap at his feet. She was dressed as the perfect counterpart to her favorite "boy". In red leather pants and matching bustier, her pale, cool, skin seemed to take on an iridescent glow as she flushed in anger. Icy blue eyes glared up at him in defiance as she grasped his calf, pulling up into a sitting position.

"How dare you," she hissed, letting her nails press into the muscular flesh of his leg.

A grim smile crossed his features as he reached down and fisted his hands through her hair, "I'm not your fucking "boy" anymore, Darla."

His pulled her up until their faces were mere inches apart, twisting her head back so the soft flesh of her neck was bared to him. He dragged a rough, unshaven cheek against the smooth column of her pale throat.

"You haven't been able to dominate me in a long, long time."

With that statement, he pushed her roughly to the floor by her hair. A side ways grin crossing his face as he watched the flux of rage and confusion move across his lovely `nurse's' features.

"Get your new little bitch on the phone, I want to know what SHE is doing right this second," he demanded angrily.

She hesitated for a moment, realization moving across her face. It suddenly dawned on her that he was serious about this, Buffy creature.

"Now," Angelus roared, kicking her in the ass as she scrambled away to grab the telephone.

Hurriedly, Darla pressed Aaron's number. It rang once before her new boy-toy answered and she asked breathlessly, "What is she doing right now?"

He yelled over the thumping of the dance music, "She's on the dance floor…"

"Whom is she dancing with?" Darla asked moving out of Angelus' view.

It took all of two seconds for him to rip the phone from her grasp, "Boy, she isn't supposed to be dancing with anyone but you…"

"Angelus? But, you're here -- leading her off the dance floor right now…"

"The fucker is touching what's mine," he growled tossing the phone too Darla. Tight-lipped, Angelus headed out the door, oblivious to Darla's protestations as she ran after him.

* * *

The ferocity of his mouth covering hers was the only thing Buffy was aware of as she gasped, panic and passion warring inside of her. Her stomach was one, tight knot. She was very aware of the grasp on her arms relaxing and she tasted his warm breath as he sighed into her mouth. Buffy's eyes fluttered open to find a heated brown gaze riveted to her face in apprehension. His large hands released her to lightly brush her arms causing her heartbeat to calm. His kisses grew gentle until his lips were nothing more than a chaste brush against her mouth and he pulled away.


A pang of longing speared through her at his tone, and she defiantly pressed herself to him. Pulled by the arousal thrumming through her, she twinned her fingers in his hair and tugged him closer. Her lips found the hollow of his throat and she placed wet, open-mouthed kisses to that tan column of flesh until she was nibbling along his jaw. He gasped for air and white hot desire sparked through her as she felt him tremble. He said her name again- this time it was a desperate growl; exactly how she wanted to hear her name said.

Burying her face in the corded muscles of his neck, she twisted to arch against him. His voice was a lost thing as he uttered one, breathy word, "Please…"

Buffy wasn't sure if he was pleading with her to stop or to continue, and she didn't care. She wasn't stopping. She pressed against him in a smoldering kiss as if she were trying to drink him down. His body shuddered, and she could feel him fighting himself. She did not want him to resist. A small sound left him as she pulled away and leaned back on the pool table, cradling his hips between her thighs.

He was breathing heavily, his gaze wandering over every inch of her until he met her eyes.

"You want this?" his voice questioned.

She didn't utter a word. Instead she locked her ankles behind him, thrusting her hips to meet his. Lustily, he stared at her as she ran her hand down her slender neck and across her chest stopping where their bodies met to push her hand against him, cupping the weight of him in her palm. A tingling excitement rushed through Buffy as he cried out and jerked into her grasp. Before she could blink, he was crouched over her pushing her shirt up to reveal the tight, tan expanse of her stomach. His mouth pressed warm kisses to her rib cage, trailing lower to the top of her jeans. Angel gave her a feral look before, with achingly slow movements, unbuttoning the top of her jeans. With leisurely, deliberate motions, he pushed them down, never breaking eye contact.

She raised her hips as he pulled the offending denim to her knees and watched, as he impatiently pressed open, wet kisses against the silk of her panties. Instinctively, her body arched toward him, but his hands pressed against her hips; effectively imprisoning her lower body, as he explored her nether regions with his tongue. Buffy was making small, whimpering sounds as she threaded her hands again through his hair, trying to force him to where she needed his attention most. He shook her off, glaring up before roughly wetting her clit, and suckling it through the silk of her panties. She thrashed underneath him as he wetly pulled at her, drinking her until she was begging him to stop. He worked her with his tongue, lapping and sucking at her honey as she chanted his name.

An angry voice interrupted her mantra as she reached another climax at Angel's hands, "Really, you are a fickle little bitch, aren't you?"


Part 18

Fury danced through his veins as he watched his brother press his mouth against her, tongue pulsing against the moist cloth, which was the only thing between Angel and "true" carnal knowledge. She writhed against him, threading her hands through Angel's hair, as she pressed closer.

So. Close.

Angelus' breath caught as he watched Angel shake her off, glaring up before roughly wetting her clit, and suckling it through the silk of her panties. She thrashed underneath him as he pulled at her, sucking until she was begged Angel to stop. The bastard worked her, lapping and sucking as she chanted Angel, not Angelus, but Angel.

The only name that should be falling from her lips like a prayer was Angelus.

"Really are a fickle bitch, aren't you?" He growled angrily from the doorway.

Angel swiftly stood; blocking Angelus' view of Buffy splayed out on the pool table, and opened his mouth to speak. He was rudely interrupted by her his "companion". She woozily hopped off the pool table, eyes flashing as she struggled to fasten the top button of her jeans.

"No one calls me a bitch," she hissed, "Least of all a sick, twisted fuck like you."

Angelus pressed his lips together in a cold, hard line as she drunkenly stumbled against Angel. He glared at his brother's hands splayed around her tiny waist, holding her steady. His heart froze. Like concrete that had just set, every muscle in his body clenched on itself; he would have hit his brother if he weren't a statue frozen by the tender picture they made. He look fiercely down at Buffy, surprised to see her green eyes blazing with righteous anger. She pushed off Angel's hands with an annoyed shrug and strode unevenly forward, halting inches away from him. He could feel the heat of passion raging in her as she pressed one finger into his chest in accusation.

"Three months ago you hurt my friend, you left her handcuffed naked to a bed and for that, you should be punished…"

A small smirk played at his lips as Angelus stared down at her. Her hand was now flat against him, finger nails curling painfully into the muscled wall of his chest. God, he loved this woman. Her rant was lost on him, as he was adrift in the heady fact that she had been hunting him for three months. He had filled her every thought and waking moment as she passionately plotted to punish him. He could forgive her kiss-swollen lips, he thought with a sigh as he pressed a hand to them shushing her.

"What was her name?"

Mossy eyes widened in incredulity at his question and impatiently brushed his hand away, "Faith. God, you don't even remember her name, how many woman have you done this to anyway?"

A predator-like smile crossed Angelus' lips, "There have been hundreds, Lover, and I remember Faith quite well. She loved every second of it…"

His head jerked back at the unexpected impact of her hand. Cheek throbbing from her backhanded slap, he smiled.

"I`m thinking someone could use a scrubbing down with steel brushes and bleach," she hissed.

A flush of heat warmed him as he concentrated on the hidden meaning of her words. Reveling in her apparent jealousy at his conduct with other women, he decided to bait her, "If I remember correctly, Faith- y was an eager and willing partner, except for one thing."

Angelus was ready, grabbing her hand before it made contact, he held her arm for a moment, relishing the feel of her silky skin before continuing.

"She didn't understand denial -- all she wanted was pleasure. She begged me until she was hoarse to let her come, but she didn't understand, not like we do," he whispered leaning close, "Pain and punishment come before pleasure…"

Twisting her arm out of his grasp, she took a few steps back and spit out the words, "I wanted to punish you Angelus, not pleasure. You only deserve pain."

He crossed the space she created between them, and pressed his forehead to hers smiling at the sensation her hot breath against his cool skin, "I can live with that." Her molten stare thrilled him. Silence mounted the tension- encircled pair, as they stood icebound, neither backing away from their uncomfortable proximity.

A voice interrupted them, "Jesus Christ, Angelus."

They both turned in unison to the source of interruption. Angel stood glaring at the scene before him, "She isn't playing your game. She doesn't understand what you want." His tiny goddess walked away, moving toward Angel, and reached out to drunkenly sooth his brother. Angel looked between them with exasperation before running his hand through his hair.

Angelus wore a smug look as he turned to walk out of the room, "This isn't a game, is it, Buffy?"

He watched as she picked up a cue from the table behind her ducking when she threw it at him with a roar of frustration, "Fuck you, Angelus."

Angelus reveled in her frustrated roar while he watched the cue miss and clatter uselessly to the floor. With a smirk, he turned and left her alone with her insipid Angel. He'd fought his brother for women's affections before; it was a fight he was willing to win again.


Chapter 19

Her body moved like liquid as he helped her out of The Bronze and up to an his BMW. Buffy gazed down at the sleek, black car for a moment before craning her neck to look up at the man helping her. Angel, she thought while twisting in his arms to press her body tightly against his. Ignoring his chiding to get into the car, she pulled him so his weight was pressing her firmly against the car door.

An alarm sounded briefly and he quickly pulled a key-fob from his pocket and turned it off. Ignoring his actions, Buffy reached up on tip-toe, wrapped her arms around his thick neck, and began a wet, silent worship of the corded lines of his throat with her lips.

He groaned her name, and it brought a hot, humid jolt through her. Slipping her hands underneath the bottom edge of his shirt, she let fingers trace the satin column of his back. She was suddenly distracted as his mouth came down hard on hers. His tongue traced the line of her mouth and she opened to him with a guttural moan. Hands grasped both of her wrists as he pulled away, pressing her arms to her sides.

"Buffy, let's get in the car so I can take you home," he stated gently.

She pouted, while she swayed against him, "I don't want to go home."

He let out a long sigh, "You're drunk – no, you're very drunk -- and I'm taking on the responsibility of getting you home and putting you to bed."

Her green eyes misted in disappointment as she looked up at him, lower lip trembling, "I don't want to go to bed without you."

She was briefly surprised as he ferociously attacked her mouth while simultaneously opening the car door. He pulled away after tenderly helping her slide into the leather car seat.

His voice was a throaty growl as he assured, "You won't be going to bed without me."

* * *

Angelus watched their erotic display against the BMW with disdain. Turning, he glanced down at Darla who was carrying Buffy's computer equipment.

"You made sure to give the bartender my card and explicit instructions?"

Darla's icy blue eyes flashed with anger as she handed over the bag containing Buffy's laptop, but she only nodded assent, "I compensated him well to make sure she knows you have her equipment."

Angelus glanced over his shoulder, his profile dark against the moonlight as he watched Angel's BMW pull out of the parking lot. Darla glanced down at his hands clenching at his sides before looking worriedly up at him. Her calculating blue eyes narrowed as an idea for self preservation came to her.

"You know, Aaron mentioned that Buffy's ex-lover was here tonight."

She paused, enjoying how he paled at the mention of Buffy and another man. The fair shade of his skin magnified the pitch-blackness of his eyes, as he took a menacing step toward her.

"Perhaps we could punish him for daring to have touched what's yours," Darla suggested quickly before retreating inside the bar.

With a twisted smile, Angelus followed at her heels.

* * *

Angel half-carried, half-dragged Buffy out of the elevator and down the hall to her apartment, shushing her as she giggled.

"I'm gonna be so hung tomorrow, and it's Thanksgiving! If Daddy notices, he'll be pissed."

She hung on him with one arm as she reached into her pocket searching for keys. She fumbled with the right pocket before sticking her hand in the left and closing her fist around the key, making it impossible for her to actually pull her hand out of the pocket. She glanced up, and giggled softly.

"My hand`s stuck."

Angel sighed, trying to keep his patience as he eased her hand into an un-fisted position and slid his own fingers inside the tiny pocket. She shifted against his hand and let out a tiny moan, making his hands sweat just enough to make it impossible for him to grasp the key.

It became suddenly apparent to Buffy what she must do. Without consulting him, she kicked of her black-heeled boots and pulled off her jeans until she was standing in the hallway in her tiny lace thong. Angel gulped hard while glancing around the hallway, praying to whatever Gods may be that the elevator doors would not slide open. Buffy, on the other hand, grasped the key and held it triumphantly up for his inspection.

"Got it!" she crowed, turned to open the apartment door and with a little flourish, welcomed Angel inside.

Angel firmly shut the door behind him, leaning against it as Buffy pulled off her top and dropped it to the floor. He glanced at the wall before feeling for a light switch and flicked it on to watch her run her hands through her long, golden hair. Her hands moved languidly down her lace-clad chest, moving down the sides of her slender waist and behind her. She glanced up to him, and crinkled her nose as she unhooked her bra and let it slide to the floor and did the same with the thong.

"I smell all smoky from the bar – you do too. I think we should take a shower."

Distracted by the rosy-tipped nipples, Angel snapped to attention at the words "we" and "shower".

"That," he answered, before following her lithe form to the back of the apartment, "is an excellent idea."

A small part of him was uncertain as she opened the glass door of the two-person shower and flipped the controls. She was drunk and he really didn't want her to think he was taking advantage of the situation as retribution to… well, their first encounter. He groaned softly as he watched her reach up into the spray of water that rained down the, tiled area and glanced back at him with an annoyed look on her face.

"You're still dressed!" she stated with a pout, "You smell like smoke and I don't like that."

He glanced down at her, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek before asking, "You're sure about this?"

"What, me standing here naked isn't sign enough?" she asked while impatiently tugging the hem of his shirt up to reveal a tanned six- pack.

She gulped hard before stating, "Very. Sure."

He smiled against the cotton of his shirt as she yanked it unceremoniously over his head and threw it on the floor. She slapped his hands away, showing surprising dexterity when she pulled off his belt and quickly disposed of his clothes.

That was permission enough for Angel as he pushed her into the shower and shut the door behind them. Water sluiced down his back and his arms encircled her, pulling her warm body to him as she buried her face in his chest. His strong fingers threaded through her hair, pulling her head up for a long, lingering kiss before he mouthed a line down her tender neck. He paused, relishing the feel of the pulse of her throat racing against his lips.

They were a tangle of warm, wet limbs as he pressed her to the wall of the shower. He groaned as she wrapped her tiny arm around his neck and a leg around his waist. Smirky at her little gasped of surprise when his hands grasped her at the back of the knees lifted her until her ass was cradled in his palms and her thighs were supported by his forearms. With one, smooth motion, he lowered her body until the tip of his cock was resting at the center of her wet pussy. He glanced in her eyes as if to ask permission.

"Please, God, please," she hissed while jerking her hips against him.

He gasped as he slid inside, stilling himself for a moment in order to gather some control -- he was finally inside her. That control slipped as her wet body squirmed against him; her glistening nipples pressed to his chest and he leaned down to take one in his mouth. A small shriek left her lips as she rolled her hips against him. He pulled his pelvis back, letting the tip of his cock press against her sensitive tissues before thrusting forward again, pulsing against her in a rhythm older than time.

Their bodies struggled together, twisting and squirming in the warm water. Angel watched as her head fell back against the sand colored tile and groaned as he felt her sheath pulse around his cock. She screamed his name and his breath caught at the primal moans, just the sound of her climaxing made his eyes roll back in his head in pleasure. Knowing he was the cause of her breathy, alto moans made him press harder against her, rolling his pubic bone against her clit until she went rigid one more time in his arms. He followed her over the hard edge of pleasure, burying his seed in her wet depths before sliding to the floor of the shower with her wrapped around his waist.

Water pulsed down on the pair as Angel cradled her limp form to his chest and pressed kisses to her crown. This tiny creature, he thought with a satisfied sigh, might just make him happy.

* * *

"You are a handsome thing," Darla stated in a high, breathy tone before running her hands down Riley's chest.

He shut the door behind him and paused to let his eyes travel over the tiny blond standing in front of him. He had a thing for tiny blonds, he thought as a warm smile melted across his face.

"Aaron will be up in a minute," he slurred before leaning down and pressing a sloppy kiss to Darla's lips.

She pushed away from him, shaking her head in the negative.

"Let's play a game, lover," she stated in a little girl voice, "Let's play a little game called, "Darla Says"."

Riley took a step forward while grinning inanely, "That sounds interesting."

Darla's bottom lip stuck out as she shook her finger, "Bad boy, you moved without me saying it was o.k."

She glided forward and grabbed him roughly by the back of the hair to pull him down into a kiss, stopping to give instructions, "Keep your hands behind your back, sweetie – no touching."

Riley gave her a heated look before running his hands down the sides of her torso, "But you're touching me…"

"That's the game, Riley. Until you act like a good boy, and do exactly what I tell you to, your hands stay behind your back."

Riley complied, "Yes, ma'am."

Her red lipstick left marks across his neck and chest as she pulled his shirt open. For a moment, Darla reveled in her good luck. The boy was well made. Her hands traced the corded lines of his chest, down to his stomach as she moved to her knees and began undoing his belt. To her distraction, Riley tangled his hands in her hair. With one smooth jerk, she pulled his belt from his pants.

"Baby is being bad," she purred while forcibly pushing his hands behind him and expertly lashing them together with his belt.

Riley let out a groan and his head fell back, "God, I love girls that do bondage."

"I bet you do, but baby, I'm no little girl."

Riley moved his head to look down in to icy blue eyes and then to the apartment door as it opened. Aaron and a dark haired man walked inside.

"Who the fuck are you?" Riley gasped as Darla's warm mouth surrounded his cock.

Aaron looked at the floor as the tall, deadly looking man next to him smiled. Riley groaned as Darla continued to blow him, not sure what his next move should be. This may be just a little too weird for his taste, he dizzily thought as the man ran his hands through Darla's fine, blond hair.

"The name is Master, boy."


Part 20

The place where two bodies met -- that long, dark line -- turned her on. Lounging on her stomach, she watched Angelus pull Riley so the boy's back was pressed to his wide chest, and there between them was that line she loved so much. Shivering, she fought the urge to get off the velvety comforter on her bed and run her hands down that dark space between. She wanted to crawl inside of it and disappear.

Riley made a kittenish sound, and she smiled as she watched Angelus' hand slide inside the poor boy's jeans. With his other hand, he held Riley by the neck. The larger, darker man whispered calming words into Riley's ear and she wished she could hear what "sweet nothings" he was saying to make the boy's eyes roll back in his head in pleasure.

Darla could hardly contain her joy at watching Angelus smoothly talked another drunken ex-frat boy into indulging in his latent-until- now bisexual tendencies. Effortlessly, Angelus pushed Riley so he was face down on the bed next to her. She reached out to smooth the baby fine, blond hair out of Riley's big blue eyes. He was trembling as Angelus divested him of his clothes, and Darla leaned over to plant soothing kisses on his forehead.

"That's my boy."

Riley's lips made a surprised `O' against her mouth and the bed dipped as Angelus thrust into him. His pained grunts tasted like candy on her tongue and Darla's eyes almost cross with pleasure. Angelus began a punishing rhythm, pounding into the poor boy from behind and his grunts turned to whimpers that she swallowed down like wine.

"Take a deep breath and relax," she giggled into his mouth, "it might hurt less."

Riley took a deep breath at the same time Angelus pulled him to a standing position by his hair. The shift in angle must have hurt, and he cried out. Darla met Angelus' opaque stare as he nodded down at her.

"Do you want to play?"

That was all the invite she needed and she bent down to take Riley into her mouth.

* * *


He woke to a low moaning and followed that noise down the hall to the bathroom. There, he found his tiny love hunched over the toilet. Smirking to himself, he stepped inside and pulled back her long, blond hair, holding it for her while her shoulders heaved one last time and she leaned limply back.

"Morning, sunshine," he chirped with a sadistic smile.

She opened her beautiful green eyes, a tiny bit and gave him a frown.

"I don't know whether to thank you for holding my hair or hate you for being so fucking cheerful."

Angel smirked before replying, "You could do both, but mostly, I'm wondering how you're going to repay me for driving you ass to your father's for Thanksgiving dinner."

He watched as she smiled weakly up at him, "You really are an angel."

* * *

It had been a long drive down highway 101. He reached out to gently shake Buffy awake and smiled at her kittenish growl of annoyance.

"Hey, my little alcoholic, I need directions."

She opened one, limpid pool of green before stretching slim arms above her head and shaking herself awake. She glanced at him and around the interior of the car briefly, as if she was trying to remember where she was and who she was with before moaning in regret.

"I think I'm dying of alcohol poisoning," she stated closed her eyes again.

Angel suppressed his laughter, "Buffy, we're almost there. I need better directions than, "Just go South on 101.""

He watched her chest rise and fall as she took several deep breaths and again opened her eyes. She glanced tentatively out the window as she tried to get her bearings before answering.

"Take the exit to Esperanda Blvd. Take it through two stop signs and turn right on Safe Harbor Ave. It is the third house on the left."

Angel nodded at her directions before smoothly steering the car through the upscale neighborhood. It became clear he didn't have to worry about Buffy being after his money when, at her direction, he pulled into a curved drive way paved with what looked like gleaming, black marble pavers. A sleek man dressed to match the opulent building behind him, smoothly opened Angel's as seemingly matching man in the same uniform opened Buffy's side.

"Sir," the young, Mediterranean-looking man at his side said with a nod toward the stairs before directing his attention at Buffy, "Ms. Summers, your father is expecting you."

Buffy smiled grimly, "Thanks, Armand."

She glanced up at Angel as the car pulled away, disappearing behind the house.

"You sure you want to do this? Armand can bring the car right back."

Angel glanced up at the four-story house that was built to look like an Italian villa. He smiled at her, and held out his arm.

"I'm sure."

* * *

Angel wasn't surprised to see the Thanksgiving Dinner at her father's was more of a social event than a family gathering. He escorted Buffy through the busy throng of elegant people, watching as she worked the room with indifferent nods to those that did not merit attention and warm hugs to those that did. She seemed unimpressed with the tall, leggy women dripping with jewels and the Armani clad men escorting them. He watched Buffy's complete ease as she sauntered through the crowd in an unadorned, little, black dress. He followed her across the sand colored marble floor and up a wide, matching staircase to a crowded dais. She seemed to be working her way through the crowd intent on getting to an older man clad in casual Armani – the guy looked like a fucking advertisement. He saw her roll her eyes as she watched the man gesture wildly with a crystal goblet filled with blood red wine indifferently spilling some on the floor as a woman seemingly Buffy's age worriedly stooped to mop it up. Buffy stopped for a moment, glaring at the expensive looking; leggy brunette who stood up and quickly resumed her position of tilted-head adoration of the Armani-advertisement guy. Angel felt Buffy take a deep breath before mounting the final ascent up the last stairs. The man turned in time to see Buffy and Angel move onto the dais. Green eyes, similar to Buffy's, lit up as the man crossed quickly to couple.

"Mr. Giles! So good of you to accept my invitation!" he gushed, ignoring his daughter completely.

It was in that instant that Angel became completely aware of who Buffy was. He glanced down at her, watching as her shoulders stiffened and her eyes went blank before deciding his move.

"Hank Summers, I didn't realize you were Buffy's father when she invited me to Thanksgiving Dinner," Angel wrapped himself around her stiff form before glaring deeply into her father's eyes, "Love, why didn't you tell me your father was CEO of Wolfram and Hart? My family has done business with them for ages."

Hank glanced down at his daughter's inexpressive features and back up at the openly hostile glare of Angel Giles and was chilled to the bone. If he didn't know better, he would have thought it was Angelus looking at him, but Angelus would never bother to protect his tiny, blond daughter's feelings. Realizing how precarious situation was, he plastered on a smile and pulled his daughter into a hug, ignoring her frigid response.

"Darling, it has been too long between visits! I didn't recognize you out of blue jeans and a tee shirt. How is the Dot Com business treating you?"

Her eyes darted between him and Angel before she replied, "You haven't done the father-ly act in ages. Don't let Angel bully you into pretending you cared."

For once in his life, Hank was at a loss as he watched his daughter move away from him and into the crowd. His usual reaction to Buffy would not do with Angel Giles shrewdly staring at him. He did the only thing he could. He plastered on a smile while making apologies.

"I apologize for letting my daughter and I make you uncomfortable…"

"I'm not at all uncomfortable, Hank," Angel interrupted before turning on heel and leaving him talking to himself on the staircase.


Part 20

The place where two bodies met -- that long, dark line -- turned her on. Lounging on her stomach, she watched Angelus pull Riley so the boy's back was pressed to his wide chest, and there between them was that line she loved so much. Shivering, she fought the urge to get off the velvety comforter on her bed and run her hands down that dark space between. She wanted to crawl inside of it and disappear.

Riley made a kittenish sound, and she smiled as she watched Angelus' hand slide inside the poor boy's jeans. With his other hand, he held Riley by the neck. The larger, darker man whispered calming words into Riley's ear and she wished she could hear what "sweet nothings" he was saying to make the boy's eyes roll back in his head in pleasure.

Darla could hardly contain her joy at watching Angelus smoothly talked another drunken ex-frat boy into indulging in his latent-until- now bisexual tendencies. Effortlessly, Angelus pushed Riley so he was face down on the bed next to her. She reached out to smooth the baby fine, blond hair out of Riley's big blue eyes. He was trembling as Angelus divested him of his clothes, and Darla leaned over to plant soothing kisses on his forehead.

"That's my boy."

Riley's lips made a surprised `O' against her mouth and the bed dipped as Angelus thrust into him. His pained grunts tasted like candy on her tongue and Darla's eyes almost cross with pleasure. Angelus began a punishing rhythm, pounding into the poor boy from behind and his grunts turned to whimpers that she swallowed down like wine.

"Take a deep breath and relax," she giggled into his mouth, "it might hurt less."

Riley took a deep breath at the same time Angelus pulled him to a standing position by his hair. The shift in angle must have hurt, and he cried out. Darla met Angelus' opaque stare as he nodded down at her.

"Do you want to play?"

That was all the invite she needed and she bent down to take Riley into her mouth.

* * *


He woke to a low moaning and followed that noise down the hall to the bathroom. There, he found his tiny love hunched over the toilet. Smirking to himself, he stepped inside and pulled back her long, blond hair, holding it for her while her shoulders heaved one last time and she leaned limply back.

"Morning, sunshine," he chirped with a sadistic smile.

She opened her beautiful green eyes, a tiny bit and gave him a frown.

"I don't know whether to thank you for holding my hair or hate you for being so fucking cheerful."

Angel smirked before replying, "You could do both, but mostly, I'm wondering how you're going to repay me for driving you ass to your father's for Thanksgiving dinner."

He watched as she smiled weakly up at him, "You really are an angel."

* * *

It had been a long drive down highway 101. He reached out to gently shake Buffy awake and smiled at her kittenish growl of annoyance.

"Hey, my little alcoholic, I need directions."

She opened one, limpid pool of green before stretching slim arms above her head and shaking herself awake. She glanced at him and around the interior of the car briefly, as if she was trying to remember where she was and who she was with before moaning in regret.

"I think I'm dying of alcohol poisoning," she stated closed her eyes again.

Angel suppressed his laughter, "Buffy, we're almost there. I need better directions than, "Just go South on 101.""

He watched her chest rise and fall as she took several deep breaths and again opened her eyes. She glanced tentatively out the window as she tried to get her bearings before answering.

"Take the exit to Esperanda Blvd. Take it through two stop signs and turn right on Safe Harbor Ave. It is the third house on the left."

Angel nodded at her directions before smoothly steering the car through the upscale neighborhood. It became clear he didn't have to worry about Buffy being after his money when, at her direction, he pulled into a curved drive way paved with what looked like gleaming, black marble pavers. A sleek man dressed to match the opulent building behind him, smoothly opened Angel's as seemingly matching man in the same uniform opened Buffy's side.

"Sir," the young, Mediterranean-looking man at his side said with a nod toward the stairs before directing his attention at Buffy, "Ms. Summers, your father is expecting you."

Buffy smiled grimly, "Thanks, Armand."

She glanced up at Angel as the car pulled away, disappearing behind the house.

"You sure you want to do this? Armand can bring the car right back."

Angel glanced up at the four-story house that was built to look like an Italian villa. He smiled at her, and held out his arm.

"I'm sure."

* * *

Angel wasn't surprised to see the Thanksgiving Dinner at her father's was more of a social event than a family gathering. He escorted Buffy through the busy throng of elegant people, watching as she worked the room with indifferent nods to those that did not merit attention and warm hugs to those that did. She seemed unimpressed with the tall, leggy women dripping with jewels and the Armani clad men escorting them. He watched Buffy's complete ease as she sauntered through the crowd in an unadorned, little, black dress. He followed her across the sand colored marble floor and up a wide, matching staircase to a crowded dais. She seemed to be working her way through the crowd intent on getting to an older man clad in casual Armani – the guy looked like a fucking advertisement. He saw her roll her eyes as she watched the man gesture wildly with a crystal goblet filled with blood red wine indifferently spilling some on the floor as a woman seemingly Buffy's age worriedly stooped to mop it up. Buffy stopped for a moment, glaring at the expensive looking; leggy brunette who stood up and quickly resumed her position of tilted-head adoration of the Armani-advertisement guy. Angel felt Buffy take a deep breath before mounting the final ascent up the last stairs. The man turned in time to see Buffy and Angel move onto the dais. Green eyes, similar to Buffy's, lit up as the man crossed quickly to couple.

"Mr. Giles! So good of you to accept my invitation!" he gushed, ignoring his daughter completely.

It was in that instant that Angel became completely aware of who Buffy was. He glanced down at her, watching as her shoulders stiffened and her eyes went blank before deciding his move.

"Hank Summers, I didn't realize you were Buffy's father when she invited me to Thanksgiving Dinner," Angel wrapped himself around her stiff form before glaring deeply into her father's eyes, "Love, why didn't you tell me your father was CEO of Wolfram and Hart? My family has done business with them for ages."

Hank glanced down at his daughter's inexpressive features and back up at the openly hostile glare of Angel Giles and was chilled to the bone. If he didn't know better, he would have thought it was Angelus looking at him, but Angelus would never bother to protect his tiny, blond daughter's feelings. Realizing how precarious situation was, he plastered on a smile and pulled his daughter into a hug, ignoring her frigid response.

"Darling, it has been too long between visits! I didn't recognize you out of blue jeans and a tee shirt. How is the Dot Com business treating you?"

Her eyes darted between him and Angel before she replied, "You haven't done the father-ly act in ages. Don't let Angel bully you into pretending you cared."

For once in his life, Hank was at a loss as he watched his daughter move away from him and into the crowd. His usual reaction to Buffy would not do with Angel Giles shrewdly staring at him. He did the only thing he could. He plastered on a smile while making apologies.

"I apologize for letting my daughter and I make you uncomfortable…"

"I'm not at all uncomfortable, Hank," Angel interrupted before turning on heel and leaving him talking to himself on the staircase.


Part 21

Giles paced at the foot of the bed listening to his wife's soft voice as she implored her daughter to speak to the police officer waiting outside the bedroom door. He stopped pacing for a moment trying to resist the force that pulled at him, drawing his eyes to the bloody, broke skin of his stepdaughter's back. His throat tightened, and he squeezed his hands into fists as he fought back the urge to vomit. Abruptly, he turned and began again pacing.

"I won't do it."

At the doctor's suggestion, they had purchased a padded massage table. Drusilla was placed stomach down, her face peering through the small hole at her head. She had been prone on the table for the last two days all the time refusing any type of pain medication.

Janna paused, as she reached out to stroke her lovely, broken daughter's hair, "He ripped your back to shreds, Dru, you have to stop him from doing this to someone else…"

A deep, dark feminine chuckle rumbled from Drusilla's throat, "No one else loves him this much, don't you see? No one else would let him do this."

Rupert turned abruptly staring in shock at his stepdaughter. She loved him? How could she possibly love him?

"I would do anything for him, Mother, I AM his."

Rupert glanced up at his wife's stricken face, wishing he could do something – anything – to stop Drusilla from talking. With every word she spoke, something in Janna's eyes seemed to die.

"He could kill you, Dru," Janna whispered.

There was a long pause; silence reached through the room winding around them until Drusilla abruptly broke it.

"But, then who would he have to play with?"

* * *

Linz fought the urge to squirm while unconsciously adjusting his silk tie. He was hungry, tired and pissed off. It was late on Thanksgiving Eve, and he had hauled ass to get here on time only to be told to wait in the foyer by Rupert Giles' assistant, Ethan Rayne. He tapped his fingers on dark beechwood while shifting his weight on the very uncomfortable 19th Century Louis XIII Armchair. Briefly he wondered if it was a reproduction. Most likely, it wasn't, and he decided against resting his feet on the intricately carved oak footstool that sat temptingly in front of him.

God, he hated rich people. All right, he hated people richer than himself.

"Mr. McDonald?"

Linz glanced up to find Rupert Giles staring impatiently down at him. Quickly he grabbed his brief case and stood.

"Mr. Giles, how can I help you this evening?"

Giles let out a long breath; "You can help me by getting my son, Angelus, arrested."

The only thing that gave Linz's surprise away was a briefly raised eyebrow as he wondered how the fuck he was supposed to do that.

* * * "I don't understand; he beat my daughter."

Linz held in a long, sigh before turning calmly to Janna Giles. These people were highly educated, rich and had resources he could only begin to imagine, but they just didn't want to accept what he was saying. He couldn't blame them.

"There is a process you have to follow. The police are the only people that can arrest someone. In order to arrest someone, they have to be called to the incident, they have to get people's statements and they have to gather evidence. From what you are telling me, no one called the police until now, the person who was assaulted won't give a statement and you had the evidence disposed of …" Linz trailed off, "…you see where I'm going with this?"

Rupert Giles' icy stare made him wish he could take back what he just said, but he had been saying it for hours. Hours he could have spent with a sassy little red head who didn't believe in Thanksgiving. She had mentioned something about the rights of indigenous people over the phone, when he called to cancel their plans to eat frozen pizza and watch DVDs.

"Are we boring you Mr. McDonald?"

Linz's attention snapped back to the matter at hand, his blue eyes meeting the sorrowful dark orbs of Mrs. Giles.

"I apologize. I was trying to think outside of the box a little bit, but I cannot come up with a foolproof solution. The only other option I can think of is you finding a judge that would commit Drusilla and get the state to press charges for her, but it is a long shot."

Janna's eyes flashed, "Commit my daughter? To an institution? Are you crazy?"

Apparently I am, Linz thought to himself.

"Angelus is the one that should be committed," she bit out.

"That may be, but I don't see any judge agreeing. Drusilla gave him permission to…" Linz paused thinking of a way to put it delicately, "… do what he did."

Nicely put, dumb ass, he thought with an inward groan.

Giles gently stroked his wife's hand, "I don't think we are going to make a decision tonight. Perhaps we ought to sleep on it."

Janna glanced up at her husband, her face an angry mask, and jerked her hand away.

"I want you to take care of him."

Giles slowly leaned back into his chair as he glanced nervously at Linz.

"I don't think this is a conversation we should have in front of strangers…"

"Fuck that, Rupert, for all I know he is one of the flunkies that carries out your more nefarious deeds," Janna turned, twisting her hands together, "Get rid of Angelus. I don't care how you do it or how much it costs. If you love me at all, you'll get rid of him."

Giles' gray eyes seemed to go empty. The expression drained from his face as he sat perfectly still, staring at his wife.

"You'd ask me to kill my son."

Janna blinked and shook herself as if trying to wake up from sleep. She turned and looked down at the small antique table that sat between them.

"Get rid of him or I leave."

Silence moved like frost through the room. The moment crystallized as Rupert Giles turned to his wife and said one word, "Leave."


Part 22

Blood flowed in a fine line down Riley's inner thigh. The boy was on his knees, hands still belted behind his back. His upper body was bent over the white sheets of the bed, and his face buried in Darla's crotch.

Angelus smiled as Darla grabbed the boy by the back of the head, pressing his face harder into her. Momentarily, he wondered how the hell Riley was getting a breath. Angelus considered telling Darla to ease up a little, but thought better of it. Instead, he put the DVD camcorder on the table and pointed it at the happy couple. Angelus adjusted the focus before sitting down and enjoying the end of the show.

Darla's fine features contorted as she bucked into Riley's face. A whine burst from her mouth as ruby red lips parted and she jerked a final time. Her whole body had contracted from her orgasm, and now her shoulders began to relax as she pushed Riley away from her and slumped back against the bed.

"That was lovely," She purred, before looking up and over the boy on his knees to Angelus. "I hope you got a good shot to add to my collection."

Angelus' face was stoic as he watched his playmate stretch her tiny limbs above her head before letting his attention wander back to the boy. Darla was pulling him up and on to the bed. She un-did the belt and ran her hands down his arms, massaging the blood back into them. Riley made a small whimper as the feeling began to surge back into his hands, which Darla shushed. Riley let her sooth him, a peaceful look crossing his All-American features as she pulled him down to her. He sighed before relaxing against her chest.

It was so easy; sometimes it disgusted him, Angelus thought. Most people wandered scared through this world, desperate for something big and bad to smack them around, and take their mind off of how terrified they were of life. On some level, Angelus understood. He supposed that it was comforting to have something bigger and badder than yourself slapping you into line; giving some order in the chaos (or perhaps some protection from it), but he didn't respect the need.

He didn't respect it at all.

* * *

Angel followed Buffy through the crowded, first floor. Almost loosing her, he followed as she ducked up the servant's stairs. The stairs were dark, but he followed the sharp sound of her heels clicking on the marble. The stairs opened up to a dark second floor balcony with 12-foot ceilings. The din from downstairs was barely muted, and he moved toward the sound. He came up to a marble barrister that looked down at the brightly lit first floor. For a moment, he stared at the pulsing throng of people before he was distracted by light from an opening door. It cut through the darkness and he saw Buff's slim figure slide inside a room. She had left the door ajar, letting a slash of light peek out, and he strode through the hallway to her.

As he pushed open the door, the scent of cedar and fine cigars filled his nostrils. He glanced at the polished cherry paneling and cabinets covering every wall but one. Instead, that wall was covered in glass, and its shelves were lined with cigar boxes. A few leather chairs were scattered throughout room. Next to each chair was a cherry pedestal topped with black, marble ashtrays that gleamed in the dim light. In the chair furthest away, Buffy sat, her arms crossed defensively. She didn't look up as Angel approached her. With her plump, bottom lip sticking out, she stared at the floor.

Angel crossed the room to the chair where she was curled and crouched down before her.

"Just go home, Angel."

Angel's brow went up in confusion. He watched her avoid eye contact for a moment before responding.


Her green eyes flashed bright emerald as she glared at him.

"I don't need you to protect me from my father, Angel. I can take care of myself."

He paused, "Apparently, I did or said something to piss you off…"

"No shit, now get out."

He sighed, anger pulsing through his veins. He was angry at Hank for treating his daughter so badly. He was angry with himself, because despite all his training, he wasn't sure how to make this right. But mostly, he was angry at Buffy for being such an ungrateful, pain in his ass.

With a growl, he jerked her up by the arm before taking her place sitting in the chair. Her eyes were large and green as her mouth made a perfect surprised "o." With little thought, he pushed her over his knee and pulled up her skirt.

He made a small moan as he glanced down at her thong covered bottom before letting his large hand come down with a satisfying smack on Buffy's ass. She let out a high whine as he rained blows. She squirmed, bucking against the hand he held at her neck as she tried to escape. He didn't let her. Instead, he continued her punishment until he was out of breath and stopped. Angel became very aware that she was making the most pathetic sobbing sounds while hanging limply over his knees. He looked down, ashamed at the bright, red marks on her skin, and ran his hand soothingly over the abused flesh. At a loss, his hands moved up her back to her shoulders and he pulled her so she was sitting balanced on his knee.

Tears clung to her eyelashes, and her bottom lip trembled. Angel looked into her tear stained face and waited for her to slap him, berate him, anything other than what she did. Her tiny arms wound their way around his neck and she sobbed into his chest. Her tiny body shook against him as her knees fell to either side of his thighs. Through her sobs, he could hear her saying she was sorry over and over.

In wonder, Angel let his arms tighten around her and shushed her as if she were a small child. She pressed her mouth to his, begging for forgiveness between kisses. It was mind bending how incredibly turned on he was. Her hands pulled at the buttons of his shirt and undid his pants before she pulled up her dress. One press of her warm, smooth flesh against his and he was gone. His mouth chased hers hungrily, hands dragging through her fine, golden hair as he pulled his erection free, pushed aside her panties and thrusting into her. Shuddering, she moaned against his large mouth, and he moved fluidly inside her tight core.

Angel looked down as she threw her head back; her face flushed and her eyes closed. With a groan, he leaned forward to catch her bow- like mouth in a kiss and made his way down the taut lines of her neck before mouthing down the golden skin of her cleavage. He pushed the silky material of her dress aside and found the rosy peak of her nipple. He laved the tiny point before biting down gently. Buffy's hips jerked against him and she let out a tight little moan into his hair. He took that as a good sign, and continued to the other neglected breast. Her breath was warm and fast as he pulled at her. With a frustrated growl, he stood turning so she was leaning back into the black leather of the chair. His dark eyes found hers as he moved, twisting his hips in a circle, pushing at her in a way that made her eyelids close and another needy moan fall from her lips.

"Open your eyes."

His voice was almost a growl, and her eyes flew open.

"I want to see you when you come."

He watched a little shudder move over her as her hips jerked of their own accord, watched her slender hands move down his chest to where their bodies met and then glanced back at her face. Her eyes fluttered and a small animal sound left her.

"Eyes," he hissed, feeling her inner muscles clenching around him.

Her green eyes found his for a moment before she threw back her head, body jerking with the strength of her climax. Angel's satisfied grin contorted, and his back arched pressing against her as he came.

He glanced down at the woman he'd just assaulted. Her dress gapped open and the skirt of the dress pushed up to her tiny waist. Angel wrapped his arms around her and cradled her body against his chest. He wasn't sure what had just happened here. Not sure at all.


Part 23

The dark outline of trees rushed past as Buffy stared out the window of Angel's car. Silence hung heavy between them, as they drove home - - and it wasn't the comfortable kind of silence either. She had hardly spoken a word after their… "incident"? What does a person call it when they engage in rough sex at a holiday gathering? And in her father's favorite chair! A small smile snuck across her face. Oh, yeah – right on her father's favorite chair, baby. A giggle bubbled out of her as she pictured good `ole Hank relaxing with a cigar where Angel had put her over…

Yeah. Angel put her over his knee and gave her a spanking she richly deserved.

"What are you laughing about?" His voice was quiet and remorseful, not anything like the demanding tenor he'd used to command her to open her eyes. Where did that guy go anyway?

Buffy risked a glance at Angel. Soulful, brown eyes flicked from the road to her.

"I was just thinking…"

She let the sentence drop off, afraid to say it out loud.


Buffy gathered her courage and tried for blunt.

"Earlier? In the evening? We kinda' messed around on my father's favorite chair, I was imagining him sitting around with his cronies tonight where we – ya' know – and imagining that made me giggle."

Angel's frown deepened, "Buffy, I don't understand what happened earlier…"

Buffy returned her attention to the shadowy trees outside of the car. She didn't understand what happened either. All she was sure of was this: a man like Angel wouldn't put up with her occasional temper tantrums. Maybe she should just call off whatever it was they were doing before anyone got hurt.

* * *

"Willow, I can't find my notebook anywhere." Buffy lifted the cushion of her couch, looked under it and dropped it. Nothing was there, not that she had expected her laptop to be there, but she was desperate. She turned in a circle while running her a hand through what had been perfectly styled hair hoping she'd spot the her computer. That didn't work either. Cocking her head, she held the cordless phone between her chin and shoulder and covered her eyes with her hands.

It was the Friday after Thanksgiving! She was supposed to be Christmas shopping with her best friend and business partner while discussing in detail the amazing sex she had with Angel at her father's Thanksgiving party.

Willow's was at her soothing best, "You HAVE to remember where you last used it! Come on, Buffy! This is our biggest client!"

Taking a deep breath, she tried to remember the last time she turned off the computer. Vaguely she remembered sitting at a bar.

"The Bronze. Will, I left it at the Bronze!" Buffy squealed with momentary relief, "Fuck. I left it at the BRONZE."

She could hear a groan and a loud thumps, which was probably Willow pounding her head against a wall. Buffy really couldn't blame her.

"I'll get it back, Will, I promise."

* * *

Silently she contemplated breaking and entering when a young man casually walked up to the entry and unlocked the door. She'd been sitting in the car for an hour, Buffy realized as she glanced at her watch. Impatiently, pushed open her car door and quickly crossed the asphalt parking lot to The Bronze before the guy got in the door.

"Hey! I need your help!"

Pushing greasy hair out of his eyes, the young man responded with a smile "Whatchya' need?"

"My name's Biff, by the way," he stated over his shoulder as Buffy followed him inside. She smiled through introductions and quickly explained the situation. Without a word, he headed behind the bar and grabbed a spiral notebook from behind the cash register.

"I've been waiting for you to show up," he muttered while flipping through the pages, "Some chick offered me a grand just to give you this address."

With a quick rip, he pulled the page he was looking for from the book and handed it to Buffy.

"I'm not about to turn down easy money like that. You can find your laptop at this address."

Buffy's forehead crinkled in confusion as she reached across the bar for the piece of paper. She couldn't imagine what "chick" would offer this guy a reward for returning her stuff.

"Looks like you can pick your stuff up at this guys place."

Buffy took the paper from him with shaking hands and glanced down at the message scrawled there.

Got your laptop. You can pick it up anytime. - Angelus

She glanced at the address and pushed the paper into her pocket.

"Thanks, Biff," she mumbled, before shakily heading out the bar's door.

* * *

Her high-heeled boots echoed through the empty lobby as she crossed to brass elevator doors. With shaking hands, she pressed the number 10 and waited for the doors to slide open. Buffy's eyes glazed over as she glanced at the numbers lighting from 10 to 1 on the way down. She jumped when they slid open and hesitated. Angelus scared the crap out of her, but the thought of letting Willow down pushed her inside. With their best customer's business at stake, she really had no choice.

The elevator smoothly ascended to the top floor and she stepped off, looking at the numbers on doors before deciding to go right. She stopped at 1042 and knocked before she could change her mind. The door lazily opened to reveal Angelus.

His broad shoulders filled the doorframe. She gulped as he leaned against the door, stretching his heavy arms above his head. He was shirtless and he was wearing leather pants. The belt buckle was undone, hanging like a loose temptation, and she had a hard time tearing her eyes away from the silky dark hair that disappeared into the leather confines of his pants. Gulping, her eyes wandered across the hard planes of his stomach and up to the cold depths of his black eyes. It was Angel, but it wasn't. There wasn't warmth to his stare, but there was a certain heat. Buffy felt the urge to look away from his hard eyes, but forced herself not to.

"Give me my damn notebook," she hissed.

A real smile spread across Angelus' face, hell, he was grinning.

"Good afternoon to you too, sunshine," he stated.

She shuddered at the gruff sound of his voice, but did not dare to break eye contact.

"This isn't a social call, I'm here to pick up what you stole from me."

Angelus managed an innocent look. He was surprisingly good at it. Well, good considering he was the spawn of Satan.

"Buff, you wound me. Here I was trying to make amends for my little – indiscretions – and you accuse me of stealing."

He stood up and opened the door wider, "Come in and I'll retrieve your items."

Buffy shook her head in the negative while crossing her arms across her chest.

"No. Way."

She watched as his smile turned into a hard line. It didn't look like Angelus liked the word, "no."

"You want the notebook, you'll come with me. If you don't…" he trailed off and began to close the door.

"I want it."

Pausing, he made a grand, sweeping gesture to welcome her in. It might have been charming if he'd wipe the smirk off his face and Buffy fought the urge to wipe it off for him.

"Then, come in."

She glared at him as he held the door. His eyes never left hers as she stepped inside. He took a deep breath as he smiled down at her. Buffy was pretty sure it was the same smile the Devil gave Eve when he offered her the apple.

The door shut with a resounding bang and she tried not to jump as he pointed to French doors on the other side of the room.

"Your equipment is in there," he stated.

Buffy ground out through clenched teeth, "Can ya' go get it?"

He sighed, "Really Buff, I take care of your stuff and you treat me like this. What does a guy have to do to get a break?"

He stepped toward her, closing in until there was merely an inch between them. Buffy glared up at him and pressed a single finger into the satiny skin of his chest.

"Back. Off."

He smirked, and held his place for a long moment before turning and leading her through the doors and into a large, white room. Buffy realized her mouth was hanging open as she stared at eyebolts in the frame of the doors. The silver chains hanging from the eyebolts moved as they walked through, and she embarrassedly snapped her mouth shut. She glanced nervously around the empty room watching as Angelus crossed whitewashed flooring to a wall of mirrors. Gently he pushed on one of the mirrors and it opened to reveal a closet filled with riding crops, canes, whips and an assortment of sex toys. On the floor of the closet, was her equipment.

He turned and gestured down, "Here you are."

Buffy blushed as she stalked to the closet to pick up her stuff. He didn't move from her proximity. Instead he stood against the mirrored door fondling a thin cane.

"So, Buff, you wanted to punish me."

She glanced up at him as he shook his head sadly.

"You don't have what it takes, lover."

With that, he turned and began to walk away.

"I'm not falling for this Angelus."

"Buff, I'm giving you the opportunity to finish what you started." He stated while fondling a chain, "But, I imagine Faith-y would understand if you lost your nerve."

She straightened, trying to ignore the anger welling in her. He deserved to be punished, that much was true, and she was sure she could punish him in a way that would give him absolutely no pleasure. She glared at him as he stood in the doorway with a bored look on his face.

"I'm giving you your only chance at revenge, I'll willingly let you chain me. You can use the cane next to you…" He smirked at her, "but I don't think you'll actually follow through, now will you?"

She had the crop in her hand before she could think and stalked toward him.

"I've got exactly what it takes to put you in your place, Angelus." * * *

Her hand hurt, Buffy realized. She had been clutching the cane so tightly, the bones of her hands ached. She wasn't sure how long she had been standing there staring at Angelus' back. She let her eyes follow the tight, lines of his arms to where she had attached black, Velcro, restraints to short lengths of silver chain at his wrists. His arms were held in a V above his head, and what a V it was. She tried to ignore the warmth spreading through her stomach as she tapped the crop lightly to her lips. Her eyes traced the letter "A" tattooed inside the shape of a griffin. Slowly, quietly, she moved forward while contemplating where to land her first blow.

"When you cane someone, it is best to stick to the upper thighs and lower buttocks, in case you were wondering where to begin." Angelus stated, "You want to stay away from the spine and kidney area…"

"Did you stay away from Drusilla's spine and kidney area when you tore up her back?"

Angelus turned his head to look back at her. Buffy flicked her wrist out, lightly hitting the griffin.

"Eyes forward, buddy."

He didn't make a noise, but his eyes met hers for a moment.

"You might want to pull of my pants, don't want to ruin the leather."

Buffy raised an eyebrow in obvious disdain.

"So, NOT doing that."

Angelus' voice came out in a growl, "They're my favorite."

Buffy glanced down his long, legs and back up to his lean waist. She could see why they were his favorite; they fit perfectly.

"You can afford to get another pair," she returned while delivering a harder blow to his left thigh.

No reaction at all. Buffy frowned, her smooth forehead puckering as she realized how much more she could hurt him if he wasn't covered in leather. Sighing, she started forward, ducking under his upheld arms.

She willed her hands not to shake as she began to unbutton his fly and it became apparent that Angelus chose to go commando. Something she should have expected, she thought with a gulp. She could hardly bare the heat radiating off of him. As she pulled him free of the black, leather confines she became aware that he was happy to be there. Very. Happy.

With a barely repressed shudder, she stood up. Angelus was so still, she wasn't sure if he was still breathing. Reflexively, she glanced up to find his eyes nailed to her. Hungry, black, they pulled her in, and she swayed forward, catching her balance by placing her palms to his chest. She felt a chill move through her at the contact and she noticed his arms were flexed, pulling against the restraints. Briefly, she wondered why he was so willing to be punished by her, but shook off the thought. She didn't really care why; she just wanted to hurt him.

Silently, she moved around him, picked up the crop. This time she struck without hesitation. One blow followed the next growing harder and harder until the golden skin of his thighs was covered in bright, red welts. The room grew warm as she began hitting higher on his body. She was sure her attentions would bring a whimper or moan, but he didn't make a noise. The only sound in the room was her heavy breathing, and she paused much later to wipe sweat from her eyes.

God, she hated him. Why wouldn't he make a sound? She stared at his back wondering what would put him over the edge. What did she have to do make him cry out? Her eyes followed the taut lines of his back, trying not to enjoy the hard curves of defined flesh as she looked for a soft spot.

There didn't seem to be one.

She stepped closer; looking intently at the damage she had already inflicted and reached out to touch one long welt where the skin was broken. He was hot to the touch and she thought she might burn her hand from the heat pouring off his skin. Slowly she traced the line, running her fingers along his back; and he gasped. His body jerked moving away from her touch. With serious eyes, Buffy smiled and drew a fingertip down another red mark.

A low moan sounded from deep in his chest, and she sighed at the note of pain in it. Her hands moved across his flesh, moving down to injuries she had inflicted on his upper thighs. As her hands trailed the damaged skin, he gasped and something tight jerked low in her stomach. Buffy took a deep shuddering breath and froze.

White, hot silence filled her and spilled out into the room. Her hand moved of its own accord, stroking his back and around his side to lower things. Fingers slid down the hard bump of his hip and over to the rippling edge of his abdomen until she found the firm, flat space low on his belly. Her hand stroked the downy, black trail she noticed when he first opened the door and time seemed to melt into something oppressive and thick. She stilled and the silence wrapped around them, choking her with its heat. One ragged breath rushed into his body, and suddenly she could hear her heart beating in her ears. He gasped loudly and she realized they had both been holding their breath waiting for her to move lower. She shook here head as if waking from a trance and, pulled away from him.

"Buff, look at me," Angelus demanded, "Buff!"

What had she almost done? Dizzily, she turned to the mirrored closet and yanked her equipment up from the floor. She didn't dare look up at Angelus as she ducked under his arms and ran from his presence. She stumbled out of his apartment, and slammed the door. As the elevator doors slid shut, she could still hear him shouting her name.


Part 24

There was a rapid knocking on her apartment door, and Faith bounced up from the couch, purse in hand, ready for the annual thanksgiving shopping spree. She whipped open the door only to have Buffy push past her and fall into the black leather couch. Faith stood in the doorway, a quizzical look on her face.

"I'm ready to go B," she stated holding her purse and keys up to emphasize her point.

One look at Buffy's flushed face, was all Faith needed. Dropping her stuff on her glass coffee table, she sank into the couch next to her friend.

"What's up?"

Buffy gave Faith an incredulous look.

"Oh! How did it go at the bar the other night? Did you implement Operation Bastard?"

Buffy shook her head in awe, "No one has called you? You don't know?"

Faith stiffened, "Did he hurt you? Damn-it B, I told you he was out of your league…"

Buffy turned a bright red and began her tale, ending with her extracting a blood oath that Faith never tell anyone what happened between her and Angelus earlier in the morning.

"B – Wow. I mean a girl doesn't usually get that many sexual opportunities in a single week, let alone in one day. From a personal perspective, I gotta say, it has been a long time since I've had sexual encounters with two guys in the same 24 hours. A really. Really. REALLY. Long. Time. And it has been even longer since I've had sexual encounters in the same 24 hours with brothers."

Faith paused, taking a moment to remember a sweaty afternoon with Jason and John Nesmon – that was time well spent. Best 24 hours ever.

Faith leaned back in the couch and a dreamy look crossed her face. Her brown eyes got heavy lidded for a moment and she sighed.

"God, girl. Could you imagine getting both Angel and Angelus…"

"Don't finish that thought." Buffy insisted, holding her hand up as if she were a cop stopping traffic, "I don't even want to go there. You were right, I'm out of my league with Angelus."

Faith's smirk turned into a full-blown grin at the thought, "Yeah, right. This coming from the woman that left him bruised and hanging from chains. How long do you think it'll be before someone finds him?"

Buffy glared at her friend for a second before grabbing her purse and standing up.

"I'm kinda' hoping no one ever finds him," the blond stated emphatically.

Faith rose and they both headed for the door to go pick up Willow, "I don't think you'll get that lucky."

* * *

Darla pushed open the front door of Angelus' apartment and paused to listen for a sign he was indisposed. No well pleasured moans or painful groans echoed through the front room, so she walked inside. She kicked off her heels and walked across the plush, cream carpeting. It had been a slow day at work and she had hoped Angelus' cheerleader would have dropped by. It would be entertaining to watch Angelus' face darken with disappointment when he realized he hadn't found his perfect mate. Darla picked up the remote and pointed it at the plasma screen television. Perfect mate her ass.

"Buffy, get in here!"

An interested expression quirked across Darla's face as she dropped the remote and headed toward the French doors. Maybe her afternoon entertainment wouldn't be spoiled after all. She pulled the half closed doors open and gasped in surprise as jealous heat boiled through her. Angelus hadn't let her to see him like this in years, but this Buffy bitch was allowed?

"Angelus," she said acidly.

"Get me down, Darla."

The blond cocked her head, as if in thought, and moved forward. Lightly, she ran her fingers down his chest. Her hands hovered over his cock for a moment stroking his velvety flesh. Darla moved close letting the satin of her red shirt brush his chest.

"She left ya' hanging, huh?" she uttered in a throaty confidential tone.

Angelus' glowered in anger as Darla's bell-like laugh rang through the empty room. A muscle in his jaw twitched and Darla contemplated the ways she could fuck with him as she ducked under his arm and headed to his little closet filled with toys.

Her lunch hour was certainly looking up.

* * *

Trying to get comfortable, Angel flipped from his back to his side. It didn't work. Next, he moved from his side to his stomach. Still uncomfortable. Rotating, he flipped so he was on his back, and was quickly reminded that he wasn't happy in that position either. With an annoyed growl, he punched his pillow and flopped on his stomach.

Nothing was working. He couldn't sleep. All night, he'd erratically flipped from front to back until he had gotten up and dug Buffy's file from under the passenger side seat of his car. After retrieving it, he dropped it on his coffee table and swore to God and all Her angels he wouldn't read a word more of it.

Sadly, all he could think of was reading her file and trying to find out what was in her head. Sure, he had read the few pages that pertained to him and their "situation," but now he wanted to know what had happened between Buffy and her father. Angel knew very well that Wesley had his patients write a detailed autobiography, and he was dying to find out if Buffy had one in her file.

With a roar of frustration, Angel pushed the covers off of him and stalked into the living room. With jerky motions, he flipped through the file until he came to a computer generated group of papers stapled together. A crooked grin crossed his face when he noticed it was written in MLA report style. She was really cute, he thought to himself and he began reading.

* * *

Buffy Anne Summers Dr. Wesley Price Autobiography 20 April 2004

Buffy Anne Summers - Life Story

My life is pretty boring. What can I say? I was born like everyone else. I don't have any special powers, unless you count going from calm to pissed beyond belief in less than 60 seconds a special power. I was born in Los Angeles to Hank and Joyce Summers. My first real memory is waking up one morning to sunlight streaming into my room. I was wearing little red flannel P.J.s with angels on them, they were my favorite pair, and I remember that I was perfectly happy. I think I was four or five at the time, and I don't think I've felt that good since. It was like I was protected, safe, and at peace all at once. I wish I knew what made me feel so safe so I could feel that way again.

When I was a kid, I don't remember Hank being around much, but when he was he treated me like a princess. If I wanted something, all I had to do was ask Daddy and I got it. Immediately. That may be the nicest thing I can say about Hank, he always made sure I had the best things. For instance, when I was nine-years-old, I asked my dad for earrings like my Mommy's. Hank had bought Mom diamond earrings for her birthday and he got me the exact same pair - 2 carats for each ear. Isn't that ridiculous? I walked around with 4 carats worth of flawless diamonds and I was nine! Although I wasn't old enough to pick up on the significance of diamond earrings, I was old enough to pick up on how hurt Mom was when he gave me the same pair. The earring event may have sparked one of the worst fights they ever had about me, but not the last.

When Hank was around, they fought. In retrospect, I don't think Hank ever really saw my mother as a person, he saw her more as an employee -- I understand why she'd be pissed off about that. She took care of his child, graced his arm at social functions, made sure his house was kept up and that he was always well fed. If he thought she was more than a thing, I don't think he would have been so demeaning to her cheated on her or had of left her. What I can't figure out was why he treated me like a princess and her like a slave. No matter how badly he had treated my mom, he never raised his voice to me. Joyce, on the other hand, had no problem raising her voice. I didn't understand when I was a kid, heck I don't really understand now, but Mom sometimes seemed to have it out for me. The nicer Hank was to me, the more things she would find wrong. I don't think I was ever good enough for her. If I tried to look nice, she'd say I looked slutty. If I didn't try to look nice, I was ugly. If I succeeded in school, I was a smart ass. If I didn't succeed in school, I was dumb. There was no winning with Joyce.

When I hit puberty, it got worse. I remember being 15 and getting ready for one of my first dates. Embarrassingly enough, I was going to the bathroom when Joyce burst in. Being involved with trying to cover myself, I didn't notice she was in one of her rages and asked in my snotty teenaged way, if she would get out so I could finish. Huge mistake. She grabbed me by the hair and yanked me off the toilet. I don't remember how it happened exactly, but she pinned me to the wall. She was slapping my face over and over while screaming, "You little slut."

I was shocked, frozen in surprise and rage. I just closed my eyes and tried to pretend it wasn't happening. I distinctly remember how angry what she was doing made me and how it took all of my willpower not to hit her back. Lucky for me, Hank had come home early to see his little girl off on her first date. He was just in time to pull her off me. I'll never forget the horrified look on his face as I pulled up my pants and got the hell out of there. I still don't understand why that happened. I was 15 years old and never been kissed, but she was ready to put me in stocks and brand me with a scarlet "A."

Things got much worse after that. When mom and dad fought, they fought because of me. If I got bad grades, Joyce would scream at Hank that I was failing because he didn't pay enough attention to me. If I acted snotty, Joyce would scream at Hank that he spoiled me. There was no way to win, and Hank spent less and less time at home. Finally, he stopped coming home all together. That left me alone with Joyce, her unreasonable expectations and her rage. I decided all I could do was fake it until I graduated high school. I plastered a smile on my face and did the best I could to stay off her radar until I graduated and escaped to college. This meant studying late at the public library, staying over night at either Cordelia, Willow or Faith's homes as much as possible, and sneaking in and out my bedroom window in order to avoid running into my mom. Most of the time it worked, but there came unavoidable moments when we had to be together. Those moments never went well.

The summer before my senior year, things got really bad and I begged Hank to let me move in with him. It was the first time he said no to me, and I was crushed. He was in the first year of his second marriage, and my baby sister Dawn was on the way. I remember his words exactly, "Babe, I'm just not here enough to be a real father to you and it isn't fair for me to ask my wife to take you on when she's about to have a baby of her own…" At his words, I knew I was alone. I didn't have a father, my mother couldn't stand me and I had one year to get through before I could get away from them both. That was about the time when Joyce kicked me out.

My best friend in the world would have to be Faith, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for her. Her family life was as bad, if not worse, than mine. Her mother was an alcoholic, and Faith had no idea who her father was. There was never enough money around her house, but there was a sort of peace when her mother was passed out on the couch. Faith and I understood each other; we shared a dark humor that Willow and Cordy never understood. It was as if we had our own little club - Faith and Buffy against the world. As far as I was concerned, whatever was mine was hers: clothes, money, friends… and in return, Faith stood by me in her own special way. She introduced me to concepts entirely new to me, like sticking up for myself. When I told her about Joyce slapping me around, Faith would become incensed and rage for hours at how I should "Stand up to the bitch," and that, "No one has a right to treat you that way!" I don't know how things would have turned out if it hadn't been for Faith. She understood me when no one else would.

Late one night, near the end of my senior year, I was leaving the house as my mother came home. In retrospect, I should have used the window instead of the front door. Faith had just called from a date gone awry. The guy tried to force himself on her and hurt her pretty bad. She had escaped by, "Yanking it off like it was a paper towel," and running like hell. She was waiting at a diner for me to come pick her up, and she sounded shook. Joyce demanded to know where I was going and I explained. She got angry and began to go into a lengthy discussion of why I wasn't allowed out on school nights… all while Faith was waiting for me to pick her up. I told her I didn't have time for this right now. Her response was simple: if I decided to walk out that door, I should never come back again. In my heart, I knew she'd been waiting for this moment for years. So, it didn't take much to decide to never come back. I packed as much shit as I could get into my car and picked up Faith. Together we found an apartment, which Hank unhappily financed, and finished both high school and college together. The rest is history.

It wasn't long after that Joyce died of an aneurysm. She was alone. Now I'm alone. I run a small web design company with Willow Rosenberg. Faith moved out a few years ago and I live by myself. I have friends, close friends, and we are sort of like family, but I want to find someone to have a family with - someone to love me. So far, my quest to find a man unlike my father has been a failure. The guys I'm attracted to usually turn out to be self-involved pigs who need a lesson on how to treat human beings with respect. I usually enjoy giving these guys a special lesson, but it is beginning to get old.

There seems to be something wrong with me. My mother couldn't stand me, my father didn't want me, and anyone I'm in a relationship with turns out to be cruel at worst, uncaring at best. I'm terrified that cold, unfeeling bastards are the best I can do, and it is this thought that pushes me over the edge, what if I'm doomed to a life like my mother's? Angry, bitter and alone?

* * *

The room was quiet, as if it was waiting for an answer as the morning light streamed in the eastern bank of windows of his apartment. Angel took a deep breath and gently placed the autobiography back inside the file. Her life story in five pages; clearly, she wasn't sharing everything. He had to say, it wasn't the worst he'd ever heard, but there was so much Buffy had conveniently left blank. Like, who were these guys that had hurt her? What else had Joyce done to her when they had those unavoidable moments together?

Angel painfully understood what it was like to be rejected by a parental figure. He remembered a time in his life when he would have done anything for Giles' approval. To be honest, he still craved fatherly approval. He was just getting better at accepting that would never happen, Angel thought as he angrily tossed Buffy's file back on the coffee table and headed back into his room to get some sleep. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Part 25

Her voice rang through the room as she shuffled through the closet. He could hear her make a small `hmmm…" before dropping different items on the floor. Sooner or later she'd find what she was looking for, and Angelus didn't want to be on the receiving end of whatever she had in mind.

"I noticed when I came in that your little cheer leader left you all excited," Darla paused for a long moment and Angelus heard a loud thump. What the hell did he have in that closet anyway?

"Darla," he chided, "I love the fact that little bitch hates me, it draws her to me. It burns her up inside until the only thing left for her will be me. I'll own her soul, and it will never be about how I make her feel."

He craned to look over his shoulder as Darla's tight, little ass waved in the air. She was on her knees digging through the bottom of the closet. She must be looking for something specific – that thought made him shudder. Pulling on the chains, he forced his hands closer to each other. He flicked the black Velcro on his left wrist once, but it didn't release.

He continued his speech while diligently attempting to get free.

"Pleasure is an end unto itself, babe. When you look at me, you see a vehicle to your own pleasure. But her, all she sees is me. Pretty soon, all she'll ever see is me."

Growling under his breath, he flicked it again and was able to release a strip long enough to hold between thumb and forefinger. With one quick jerk, he pulled his wrist free of the restraint and quickly reached to loosen the other.

"God damn it," Darla hissed from behind him.

He turned to find her staring at him in dismay. One of her dainty hands held a coiled, black whip. The other was placed provocatively on her hip. Angelus met her flashing blue eyes and took a dangerous step closer.

"You weren't planning to use that on me, now, were you sweetheart?"

The sensation of a thousand pinpricks flooded through his heavy arms, and he fought not to sway as pain radiated down his back and thighs with every step. Darla shrugged indifferently as she looked him up and down, like a predator searching for weakness in her prey.

"The thought might have crossed my mind, but now that you got down…" she trailed off before looking angrily up at him," You know, Angelus, it really isn't bondage if you can set yourself free."

Angelus smirked. He knew it wasn't smart to piss Darla off when she held a whip, but being an asshole was a pretty good way of faking strength. If she had any idea how weak he presently was, she'd beat him senseless. Somehow, he had to keep up the pretense until she was out of the room.

"I didn't stay there because I was physically trapped, I stayed chained because she wanted me chained, and whatever little Buffy wants, she gets." He smiled cruelly before continuing, "Has anyone done that for you? Ever?"

He saw the urge pass through her eyes. She gripped the handle of the whip tightly, flexing her hand once, twice – the moment passed. Her slim shoulders relaxed and she flung the whip to the floor. The slender tip uncurled from its tight coil and fell limply to the ground a few feet away him. Angelus watched the tiny, blond fury rush past him, turning slowly to track her path as she slammed the French doors shut. He stood for long seconds, body clenched in exertion while he listened. The door to the apartment crashed shut, and he let a long sigh leave his body. His hands relaxed and began to shake as he moved to lock the doors and recover.

* * *

"Will, the presents are fine. People can't get in, right Faith?" Buffy glanced across the contents of the car's trunk to Faith and gave her a pleading look.

Faith merely shrugged before glancing at the bright bags filled with holiday cheer and slammed it shut. Turning, she playfully grasped Willow's shoulders and looked deeply into the redhead's eyes.

"Why do you want to go home on Friday night? Expecting a call from Mr. Wonderful?"

To Faith's surprise, Willow blushed bright red. Holy shit! The little nerd was expecting a call! Faith shook her head in dismay, causing confusion to cross Willow's features.

"He'll think you're desperate if you're home waiting for him."

Forcefully, she turned Willow's shoulders so they were facing the Bronze and began to walk her toward the bar.

"But I AM desperate," she squeaked as she let Faith push her forward.

Faith cocked her head to the side as Buffy opened the door and they walked in, "We all are, Wills. The trick is not to show it."

* * *

She flung her arms up as the DJ requested, giggling when Willow and Faith followed suit. Bodies twisted to the pulse that thrummed through the air, the floor, heck, the very walls of The Bronze. Buffy let it flow through her, throwing her hands around. Tingling moved through her fingers as she swayed to the bass. She gasped when rough denim pushed against her bare legs, as a man molded himself to her back. An arm snaked around her waist, and she leaned her head back against a firm chest to look up at Xander.

Buffy rolled her eyes, mouthing, "You're a perv," as she pushed him Faith's way. She knew he had been crushing on Faith for the last year. Sadly, her best friend didn't think a guy like Xander would put up with her past – it wasn't true. Xander didn't give a shit that Faith had been with, he just wanted Faith's future to be with him.

A loud cheer sounded through the crowd as the rhythm changed to something a little funkier, and Buffy pointed to the bathroom before heading that way. As much as she was sweating, a mirror check was long past due.

* * *

Shadows hid him while he watched from the corner. Three feminine bodies writhed as music pulsed through the crowded dance floor. A pale redhead was sandwiched between Faith and Buffy, as the drunken trio became the focal point for every male in the Bronze. And really, Angelus thought, who wouldn't be drawn the erotic picture they made? Slim limbs, raised above their heads as tiny asses rotated tantalizingly, but it wasn't the three of them that drew his attention. It was the honey blond woman who was giggling at the man who wrapped his arms around. Angelus watched in approval as she shoved the guy toward Faith and waved to her friends as she headed off the floor toward the bathroom. The two girls shook her off with friendly gestures and Buffy walked through the crowd away from her friends. A break Angelus had been waiting for all night.

He followed, letting his eyes travel down the tiny waist to the slim hips. She stepped into the room and he paused, waiting for her to exit. The music changed on the dance floor, and he noticed her friends were now dancing with partners; slowly swaying to a too loudly played romantic song. He watched as Buffy came back into view and stepped toward the floor. Her forehead crinkled and she appeared suddenly unsure of herself as she glanced at the couples.

He took advantage of the moment, sliding his arms around her and pulling her tightly to his chest. She stiffened and tried to break free when his lips found the slim column of her neck. He smiled grimly while increasing the pressure of his arms. He had moved so his hip held her in place against a waist high wall that separated the dance floor from a lounging area with couches. He wasn't in the mood to experience any of her self-defense moves tonight.

"Get off me." She hissed waspishly.

He inhaled the flowery scent of her hair before lifting away from the tender skin his mouth had found.

"How do you know I'm not your precious Angel, lover?"

He felt her body tremble as he returned to her neck. Clearly, this was an erogenous zone for her. He could feel her nipples harden against his arm and she gave out a little breathy moan. His mouth moved harder against her tender flesh and she began struggling in earnest.

"Angel doesn't have to trap me to kiss me," she bit out.

His mouth stilled and he heard her gasp painfully as his grip became intentionally painful .

"Like you trapped me this morning?"

"You don't look trapped to me Angelus."

He paused, not annoyed at her verbal indifference.

"I stopped by to give you this." He whispered, holding out a key on a sterling silver ring while keeping her firmly pressed to his chest with, "You know where to find me, all you ever have to do is show up."

He loosened his hold and forced the key into her hand before stepping away from her. Buffy clenched key in her hand, wanting to throw it in his face but not being able to let go of it. Her heartbeat increased, and to her annoyance she was suddenly panting at the thought of being alone with him again. She couldn't get the sounds of his low moans out of her mind as she turned to watch him disappear into the crowd.


Part 26

The light from the window above the couch streamed into the room, catching the blond top of Buffy's head, illuminating hair so it looked as if she had a halo. Wesley watched her hands worried each other, working in a wringing motion as she avoided meeting his eyes. With a sigh, he wondered what she had gotten herself into now.

"So, why don't we start with..." he trailed off as, at the sound of his voice, she hunched her shoulders and continued staring at the floor, "how you're feeling right now."

Buffy glanced at him, quirking an eyebrow in disgust before grabbing one of the violet throw pillows and hugging it to her stomach.

"I'm confused."

Confused, vulnerable... whatever, Wesley thought while watching her fidget. Her hands made the circuit over her body. She twirled her hair, stopped twirling her hair, ran the twirling-hair finger down her arm, clenched her hands on her things, and moved back to the hair twirling on the opposite side. It was bloody annoying to watch and Wesley had to fight the urge to grab her hands to end the parade of nervousness.

"Buffy," he stated a little loudly, "A-hem. Buffy. What is confusing?"

She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her expressive green eyes before answering, "I tried to get even with Angelus."

Wesley fought to keep a straight face, "Really. How does that make you feel?"

She quickly returned her attention to the floor and mumbled, "Kinda' turned on."

Not the response he was expecting. Guilt, remorse or even a sense of loss now that her quest for revenge was finished, but turned on? He watched her rambling hands with new insight.

"Is this what you expected to happen?"

She glared at him, eyes narrowed, and he actually felt a little vulnerable himself at her smoldering glare.

"No. It isn't what I expected to happen. I didn't expect to like chaining him to the ceiling. I didn't expect to like beating him with a cane. And I sure as hell didn't expect to be turned on by it."

Wesley nodded, "Power over another human being, especially someone as commanding as you've described Angelus being, would be a heady thing."

Her shoulders relaxed at Wesley's words -- just a smidge -- and she leaned into the back of the sofa. Wesley made a few notes, and waited a moment. Her forehead crinkled and she looked intently at him.

"Power? I don't have power over anyone."

Denial rears it's ugly head.

"Really? Could you describe what happened when you punished Angelus?"

Wesley listened as Buffy explained the scene. He scribbled a few notes here and there while she gave the details before frowning gruffly.

"So, do you still maintain that you were powerless in this situation?"

Buffy nodded and Wesley restrained himself from growling in frustration.

"I didn't feel powerful. I felt out of control. I felt like I was doing exactly what he wanted and I'm struggling not to do exactly what he wants, which is to go over to his apartment and beat him again. It is like I'm really, really hungry and he is the only food available..."

She trailed off and looked dreamily into space.

"Believe me, Wes, I'm not the one with the power."

* * *

The pain medication was wearing off, she thought dreamily. Flexing the muscles in her back she was rewarded with a stiff jolt of discomfort. Drusilla smiled, the discomfort was mild compared to the intense pain she'd experienced a few weeks ago. The physical therapy was paying off.

Now she just had to find a way out of here. Her mother had a guard at the door. Dru wasn't sure if that was to keep her in or keep Him out. Angelus. His name ran through her head, calming her, helping her think.

He must be very angry, she thought with a secretive smile. She loved to make Him angry. When His brutal hands came down on her, she was the center of his world. Everything else fell away except for His rage and her pain.

There was a click on the door handle, and the sound of falling steps. Turning her head, she rested her opposite cheek on the pillow and looked toward the door. Her mother was crossing the room, a worried look on her face.

"Mommy," she simpered, trying to hold back a giggle. Maybe the drugs weren't completely out of her system after all.

Janna wouldn't meet her eyes. Couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't -- it all came down to same thing. Her mother did not look at her, did not see her, did not listen to her. Drusilla was sure the only thing her mother could see was her scarring back, which was visible to everyone walking in the room.

"Dru, honey," Janna paused, and tried to meet her daughter's eyes, but failed, "He has to pay for doing this too you."

Dru gazed dreamily at her mother and smiled.

"Do you remember the day you brought me to meet Giles?"

Janna's forehead crinkled at the new topic, but used to her daughter's lack of conversational transitions, nodded yes.

"It was so hot out. You told Daddy we were going for ice cream, and we did, but then you took me here - to this house. And I saw the way you looked at Mr. Giles. I remember you seemed to shine like a star, all glow-y when you looked at him... It was the same way Daddy used to look at you, and I knew. I knew you loved Mr. Giles and you didn't love Daddy anymore..."

"Dru, this has nothing to do with what we're talking about. Honey, I need to stop him from ever doing this to you again, don't you understand?" Janna asked while gesturing at her back.

Dru blinked, her eyes were distracted to the space behind her mother for a long moment before she smiled and continued. Janna glanced back, but nothing was there.

"Daddy found out about you and Giles. After you left one night, he took me for a drive, and we saw you together. That was the night Daddy left us and never came back."

Janna stared at her daughter, before responding.

"Dru, what does this have to do with Angelus hurting you?"

Her daughter was quiet for long minutes as she dreamily watched the space to the left of Janna. It was unnerving, to see Drusilla looking at empty space so intently. Her dark eyes moved back and forth, as if she were watching an imaginary tennis match.

"I let you take Daddy away, but I'll kill you before you take Angelus too."


Part 27

"Crawl to me."

Her voice vibrated through The White Room, and Angelus dropped to his knees. Deep, dark eyes looked up at her from under a furrowed brow, she shivered. He looked more dangerous in this position than when he was standing. There was something dark and predatory about the way he moved, muscles rippling as he crossed the floor and came to a stop at her feet.

She found it a little hard to breath as he sat perfectly still, waiting for a command, but she was too aroused to think of one. Her eyes roved down his naked back, coming to rest on the low slung waist of his brown leather pants. She stared, hypnotized, sinking into the timelessness of the moment. Abruptly, the moment ticked by, he moved, rubbing his cheek against her thigh. Gasping, she pulled away. Without hesitation, she struck him across the face once... twice...

"You don't have permission to touch me. Ever."

Angelus' eyes took on an obsidian shine, gleaming darkly with barely restrained violence. Somewhere deep inside, that gleam in his eye pissed her off. Without warning or excuse, she backhanded him as hard as she could.

To her delight, he moved. It was a small movement to the side, but still, she had discovered a weakness. He kept his head down now, although she was sure she'd see mutiny on his features if he looked up. She didn't care.

"Shouldn't you thank me, Angelus?"

He looked up, surprise crossing his face briefly before he schooled his face into a deprecating smirk. He didn't answer.

"I asked a question."

Her voice was soft now, like the petals of a flower. His smirk grew as did her rage, and she turned to walk toward the closet. Her hands sifted through canes, whips, and a collar packaged with a remote. It reminded her of electric shock dog collars used to train puppies, and she shuddered to think of someone using it on another human being. She dropped the collar to the floor and continued searching. It didn't take long to find something appropriate.

Turning, she crossed back to her charge, who was looking particularly bored until he noticed what she had in her hands. He looked up at her with large eyes, and if she didn't know better, she would have said he was worried.

* * *

Buffy walked out of the building quietly. The night wrapped around her as she weaved through parked cars to her own. In a half an hour, she was meeting Angel for dinner. A half hour. Thirty minutes. A half hour until she was with him. She tried to pretend that she hadn't spent the last few hours with Angelus. Tried to make herself believe she wasn't mind bending-ly aroused. Tried to tell herself that she wasn't going to jump Angel the minute - no the second she got the opportunity and take all of the sexual frustration she'd endured the last few days out on him.

She tried to do all these things, but it was no use. The moment she pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant and saw him leaning against his BMW, she knew the plan to let Angel down easy wasn't going to work.

His dark eyes, the warm smile, the way his shirt clung to his well defined chest and shoulders. She stepped out of the car and shivered. He smiled until he saw her eyes, she was staring at him as if she were starving and he was food. He froze against the car, carefully watching her as she walked slowly toward him. By the time she got to him, she was panting.


His voice broke against her like pain, and she shuddered at the sound.


She wasn't sure who moved first, all she knew was his mouth was hard, and demanding on hers as she pushed against him. Trying to burrow her way closer, she realized all she would ever want in this life was to get closer. She wanted under his skin, she wanted to be buried inside of him.

His hands pushed under her shirt, moving against the soft flesh of her back. She could feel the think cloth ride up, and knew he was exposing her to anyone who walked by. She knew she should be embarrassed, should insist they go somewhere else, but she couldn't. She had to feel him right now.


Part 28

"I thought you said you were hungry," Angel stated in a growling tone.

At his words, Buffy took a step back and began to nervously straighten her clothes. As she did so, he grasped her arm and yanked her against his chest.

"I'm not complaining. It was a stupid thing to say, I'm just..." he trailed of for a second as he pushed his hand through her silky, honey hair, "...overwhelmed."

Buffy dared to peek up at him and found herself relaxing. There was something much more human about Angel than his brother. When she looked into Angel's eyes, she swore she saw his soul. When she looked at Angelus, they were empty and fathomless, like a bottomless pit of despair.

"Well," she said softly, "Let's go eat."

The walked cross the parking lot hand in hand, enjoying the falling twilight as couples tend to do, Angel in his world and Buffy abruptly yanked back into hers as she saw Angelus help a small, blond woman out of a limousine. Angel didn't notice his brother and Darla walking toward the restaurant, but Angelus noticed them. His eyes burned into her as she stepped inside the building.

* * *

Angel still hadn't noticed his twin, and for that, Buffy was glad. Her plan was to occupy his attention however necessary until they made their escape back to her apartment. Currently, her foot was playing up and down the inside of his thigh; a worthy distraction if ever there was one. Well, at least she was distracted. Right now she couldn't keep her eyes off him, watching as the muscle in his jaw twitched with tension.

"Buffy," he growled, a hint of desperation in his voice, "If you don't stop that, I'm going to push over the table and fuck you in front of God and everyone."

She couldn't hold back a smile at the thought of Angel doing just that, and began stroking further up his thigh. His hand caught her foot and his strong fingers tried to distract her by kneading her instep. Buffy gave out a small sigh as she relaxed into her chair.

"You're too good to me," she stated simply wishing she deserved his kindness and wasn't involved with Angelus.

He shook his head at her as he gently released her foot.

* * *

"You're acting like a jealous school-boy," Darla state loudly, scorn dripping like venom from her lips.

Angelus' attention was riveted on the tiny blond sitting across from Angel and Darla once again was astonished that this inexperienced little twit had become her competition. It was a burden she was finding difficult to bear. Angelus swung his attention across the table, hostility leaking from his countenance and she couldn't help smiling, glad she wasn't the only one suffering some discomfort. She would much rather his little dalliance with the cheerleader would move to the next level or end, and she knew just the way she could facilitate this. It would be all too easy.

* * *

Buffy walked into the bathroom a little tipsy from too much wine. Stepping in front of the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair and then began shuffling through her purse for lipstick. She didn't pay much attention to the woman who walked in behind her, as she had finally found the silver tube of Perscriptives lipstick, Hobnob, and began mourning the fact that her perfect, red lipstick was being discontinued.

"That's a little dark for your complexion," a snide, feminine voice stated, "don't you think?"

Buffy glanced to left, stomach clenching at the sight of Angelus' date. She paused, trying to think of a way to remove herself from this situation with minimal damage while surveying the competition. The woman's platinum hair looked like corn silk. The pale features and slight build reminded Buffy of an antique china doll her father had given her as a gift years ago. The only thing that was different was the mouth. This woman's mouth was a cruel slash of pink. There was no way a mouth like that would be depicted on a doll, it would end up scaring children instead of smiling as a cheerful invitation to play.

"I'd prefer it to Skank Pink," Buffy returned brightly.

Clearly, her response wasn't the best way to de-escalate the situation she thought as the woman's face hardened.

"Although it does suit you."

Yeah. This was the way to make nice.

"Little Buffy, trying to play big girl games. You do realize you're in over your head, right?"

Buffy watched as the woman approached her only stopping when she was a few inches away. Personal space. Why did people think she'd automatically fold if they stood too close?

"What's your name, blondie?"

"Darla -- and Angelus is mine."

Buffy hesitated, trying to suppress a giggle. This perfect little china doll was threatened by her.


Darla's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean fine?"

"He is all yours, if you can keep him away from me. See, Darla, he won't leave me alone. Sending me flowers, stalking me at my favorite club, giving me a key to his place..."

She trailed off, watching Darla's face contort in fury and surprise.

"He didn't give you a key. You're lying."

Buffy shrugged, "Whatever. If you can keep his attention off of me, I'd be glad to be rid of him."

Buffy turned to apply her lipstick in time to get blind-sided. The only thing she was aware of was the back of Darla's hand hitting her face. She stumbled into the sink, dropping the lipstick on the floor. To her absolute frustration, she noticed the lipstick was broken in half. And, ew! Bathroom floor!

Turning, she growled, "That shade was discontinued you bitch."

Darla ignored Buffy's rancor and began a tirade, "I know you want him. I know what it is like to have him on his knees, to punish all that rippling muscle, to slide your hands down his satiny flesh... I understand the temptation to bring him off after you punish him. There is no way you'll be able to resist, which is what he wants. He wants you to keep hurting him forever. Do you really want to give him what he wants?"

Darla broke off, and Buffy saw something dark and desperate flash through her eyes.

"You can't break him with pain. You won't be able to; don't you understand? Nobody can break him."

Buffy smiled at the woman's desperate pleas. Darla wasn't telling her she couldn't break him, she was begging her not to. Gathering her things, she headed out of the bathroom, ignoring Darla's temper-tantrum as she left.

* * *

Angelus paced in the waiting room outside the woman's restroom. He had warned Darla when she followed Buffy not to touch her.

"Nice touch, sending your little bitch after me," Buffy stated softly.

Angelus turned; worry flashing briefly across his chiseled features before morphing into rage. In two, long strides, he crossed the space between them and reached out to touch her face. Buffy jerked away from his touch, before fixing a deadly glare on him.

"Don't ever touch me."

He hesitated, his rejected caress hanging in the air before dropping his hand to his side.

"I'm sorry," he stated stiffly, "This wasn't what I wanted to happen here tonight..."

He trailed off, looking over the top of her head at the closed bathroom door behind her. His mouth was a hard line as he brushed past her and into the woman's bathroom. Buffy listened to Darla's begging voice for a moment before turning and fleeing to Angel.


Part 29

She stared at the keyhole for a moment. Every time she stepped up to his door, she paused. It was tangible, this moment; she could feel time on her skin as she wrestled with the urge that prodded her forward. As she stood there, the urge won out once more and she inserted the key into the lock and pushed to door open.

As the door swung silently ajar, she was assaulted by an inhuman moaning from The White Room. Buff quietly snuck in and tiptoed across the thick, creamy carpet to the French doors, which hung wide-open. She hid to one side and peeked through. Letting her eyes adjust to the brightly lit area, she blinked a few times before her eyes went wide in shock. She stifled a gasp and a hand went to cover her mouth as she stared at the blond woman hanging from chains. The woman's head lolled forward, and Buffy could see her mouth was gagged, but that wasn't what made Buffy's blood freeze.

As Buffy squatted at the corner of the door, the woman's body convulsed as if she had been shocked. Her body continued to convulse, and Buffy could see the collar wrapped around her neck was the collar she had discarded in Angelus' closet the week before - the one that had a remote that gave off an electric charge. Buffy shuddered, while watching the woman's wide eyes glazed over as her arms shook.

Her body abruptly relaxed and Buffy was nauseated at the urine leaking down one, long, white leg; puddling around her perfectly painted red toes nails. She was hanging from the chains, which were just long enough for her to stand on tip toe, but in her weakened condition she seemed unable to stand and her hands were a bright red from the weight of her limp body.

"All I need for this to end, Darla, is for you to specifically state you'll never hurt Buffy again," a smooth, velvety voice stated, "A nod won't do, you have to say it."

Buffy shivered as she stared at the woman's bruised, swollen eyes and could not believe it was the same woman that had cornered her at the restaurant. The china doll completion was now mottled red, and dark purple. The sky-blue eyes couldn't be seen from between the swollen slits of the woman's eyelids. To Buffy's horror, tears leaked from those slits, running down what must be Darla's face as the woman's convulsing throat made whimpering noises. Buffy was having a hard time accepting this broken figure of a woman was the same person who had threatened her.

Buffy watched in horror as Angelus came into view. In one hand was the remote, in the other, was a whip, the length of it curled around his long fingers as he dragged the handle down the skin of Darla's stomach and nestled it between her swollen nether-lips.

Buffy's mouth dropped open as she watched Angelus lave a rosy nipple while increasing the pressure of the whip handle to rotate it around the woman's clit. Darla threw her head back, trying to move away from his obscene ministrations, but it was no use. Buffy watched as Darla's body jerked and a muffled scream left her. Angelus pulled away, revealing indentations of his teeth in a perfect circle around a poor, abused nipple. Blood rose to the surface of the bite, and ran down her pale flesh in a thin, crimson line. As he pulled away, he increased the movement of the handle, pressing faster against her flesh until Darla was willingly, desperately moving against the handle. As she found her release, Angelus pressed the button on the remote, and her body finished an orgasm in a convulsion that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with pain.

Cruelly, Angelus taunted her, "This could all end if you'd just tell me you'll never hurt Buffy again. I don't understand why you're being so stubborn about this..."

Buffy's throat tightened as she froze, realization dawning that this was happening to another human being because of her relationship with Angelus. She blinked, trying to see through the blurry mask of tears that gathered in her eyes. Quietly, she rose, conscious of her stomach's clenching as she turned and fled the apartment, closing the door silently behind her.

Buffy was trembling as she entered the elevator and hit the button for lobby. She didn't really understand until now that she had been playing with a monster.

"This is Angel," he said into his cell phone.

"Angel?" a timid voice sounded through the phone, "This is Willow Rosenberg, Buffy's friend?"

Angel smiled at Willow's voice, she was his favorite of Buffy's group and he enjoyed the sweet woman's company.

"Willow, good to hear from you..."

She interrupted him, tension now leaking from her voice.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but there is something really wrong with Buffy, and I don't know who else to call."

Angel immediately straightened up in his chair, the good-natured smile disappeared from his face as his full lips tightened into a hard line.

"Is she hurt? Should you call an ambulance?"

Willow snorted, "Yeah, you aren't familiar with her hospital phobia, are you? No, physically she seems ok. But, she is sitting on the floor of her office, with her arms wrapped around her knees rocking back and forth. I don't think that is a good sign."

Angel clenched the cell phone so hard he could hear the plastic crack. He was already out the door of his office and headed toward his car. He gritted his teeth before answering Willow, darkness flashing in his mahogany eyes.

"Will, why don't I come on over and see what is going on."

A long sigh sounded over the phone as she responded, "Thanks Angel, I knew you'd want to help."

Angel pushed open the door of their office suite, closing it firmly behind him before walking through the front office and back to Buffy. Her office door was hanging open, and he could hear Willow making sweet shushing sounds. When he walked in, he could see Willow on the floor gently rocking Buffy's huddled form slowly back and forth. Tears leaked from her mossy eyes, tracking a down her cheeks and dripping down her chin. As he entered the room, her eyes widened in terror and she burrowed against Willow.

"Buffy," he stated gently, "Its Angel..."

He watched as she timidly glanced up to him. She took one shuddering breath as she said his name, "An-gel?"

His heart clenched when he heard his name fall from her trembling lips. He watched her pause for a moment before rocketing away from Willow and diving into his arms. She fisted her hands into his shirt, burrowing her face into him.

"Angel, I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you. An-gel..."

He scooped her up, cradling her as she clung to his shirt. Her body seemed to vibrate in his arms, tension radiating from her as she buried her face in his chest. His stomach clenched at her actions, and he wondered what had traumatized her.

"Buffy, baby, what happened?" he asked helplessly as he sank into her plush office chair.

Willow gave a short little wave and snuck out of the room, "I'll be in my office if you need my help."

Angel nodded; glad to be alone with his charge. Buffy gave a little hiccup, and shivered into his embrace.

"Can't tell ya'."

He tried not to let out an exasperated sigh at her answer. He was desperate to know who had caused her harm so he could make sure they never could again.


Part 30

He was drowning, had been from the moment they walked inside his apartment. She seemed intent on forgetting whatever had happened to her. She had diverted him from the meaningful conversation he had in mind, distracting him with her talented mouth and hands. Currently, he was returning the favor. His mouth found the smooth, salty, skin of her inner thigh, tracing the muscled line of flesh to her knee and back again before he found her moist and wanting center. Her hands threaded through his hair as she urged him on with breathy, begging moans.

"Angel," she cried out, "Please, inside..."

He heard her words trail off as he brought her to climax, holding her jerking hips down as he continued to lap her honeyed release. She was screaming, hands pulling at his hair painfully as she begged him to stop. He watched from hooded eyes, as she lost control. It was a beautiful sight, seeing her head thrown back, jaw clenched, body shaking.

He ignored her demanding hands and continued, pressing against her writhing center with warm, wet kisses. His tongue circled and lapped as he brought her again and again. He was entangled in her scent, her taste, her being -- every part of him centered on her. Every cell was intent on her taste, her essence.

He was getting pulled under.

Deep inside, he was aware that without her, his human existence would be meaningless. He froze at that thought. Time seemed to stand still and he fought the urge to run. The idea that this might be real, that this thing building between them was love caused a panic so deep, he could hardly breath. It was her hands that guided him back -- grasping him and leading him back up her body. Tasting her salty, smooth, flesh, he kissed his way to her mouth, tongue plunging into that sweet cavern where he found himself again. Immersed in her very being, he shuddered as she cried out, arms surrounding him, pulling at him, clutching to him. He felt something broken inside him click into place, and for a shining moment he let go.

This, he thought, this must be joy. ***

Angelus ran his hands across the little blond's tight shoulders in an attempt to massage the tension from them. It wasn't working. She jerked away from him in a huff, green eyes glaring up at him in disapproval. He watched her purse her full, pouty lips; again barely able to understand the words falling from the luscious mouth. He didn't know how he was controlling his greedy hands, keeping them from caressing the sweet curve of her cheek.

"Rules are, you don't get to touch me, remember?" she hissed while pointing to the doorframe, "It is the last time Angelus, do you understand? I won't keep coming over here. This isn't punishment no matter how much I hurt you -- and I can't ignore that anymore."

A smirk moved across his finely carved features, his depthless, black eye finding hers as he moved closer.

"You won't be able to stay away. Think that Angel will be up for this? Do you think he can take the punishment you're addicted to giving? Do you think he'll be able to deliver when you finally realize how much you want to be hurt too?" He asked, accentuating his words with a smooth thrust of his hips against her stomach. Raged flooded her features as he lightly stroke her cheek.

"I don't need to be punishment, Angelus, you do. I didn't understand before, but I do now," she hissed while pressing her hand against his chest, "You need my disdain, hatred, and you need it all wrapped up in pain. This is the last time. I will never willingly see you again, do you understand?"

His eyes hardened as he glared down at her and began to strip, "I understand."



Part 31

Angel sighed. It had been a fantastic afternoon with Buffy. Her heady scent was still thick in the room, raising a thirst that should have been quenched. He imagined her hands threaded through his hair as he brought her again and again...

"You look like a cat with cream, big brother, although I prefer the cat with a canary cliché myself..."

Angel opened his eyes to find his mirror image lounging in the bedroom doorway.

"How the fuck did you get in?"

Angelus shook his head in disappointment while stiffly crossing to the entertainment center that stood against the wall across from Angel's bed.

"You don't mind," he asked rhetorically while he fiddled with the controls and slipped in a DVD, "I thought I'd give you a few pointers on your girl. Ya' know, likes... dislikes..."

Angel's eyes widened at the images on the screen ignoring his brother quiet exit out the door. ***

Unconsciously, he licked the rain from his lips as he stared at the entrance of her apartment. Rage moved like a drug through his veins as obsidian eyes tracked her curved silhouette's movement behind the sheer drapes of her living room window. His hands itched at the thought of her and Angelus together. The images danced through his mind -- vivid and un-redeeming.

The thought of her hands on Angelus were so painful, he gasped. Bending over, he grabbed his midsection as if he were in physical pain. Hunched over, Angel breathed deeply, and glanced up at her door. The pounding rain grew louder; sound increasing as did the intensity of the downpour. A shudder of rage and lust moved through him, compelling him toward her apartment door as he shaking-ly decided if that was what she wanted, he'd was more than ready to give it to her. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Part 32

Buffy shut the apartment windows, listening to thunder booming in the distance and flicked on the air conditioning. She was finally giving in. The dual forces of heat and humidity caused her to turn on the air and shut off the sweet song of the night. Peeling a thin tank top from he sweaty body, she threaded her way through the apartment and into her bedroom where she reclined on cool, white, cotton sheets.

She stretched her golden, toned limbs and sighed while thinking of Angel and let her pink-tipped fingers glide down the satin-y skin of her stomach lower to the top of her tiny, white thong. There her hand hovered for a moment as she imagined it was his hand stroking her skin, setting her on fire. She imagined the way his dark eyes searched hers – always as if he were asking permission to touch her. It hurt her somehow, that he wasn't sure of her response – that he didn't know she'd never deny him.

She wanted him to be sure of himself. It was the only thing she had liked about Angelus; the way he was positive that she couldn't resist him, the way he sought to engulf her, ensnare her, have her. She wished desperately that Angel had the same self-assurance where she was concerned.

But he didn't.

She imagined his mouth covering hers as she slipped her hand inside the elastic top of her panties and slid her fingers in a circular motion over her already wet clitoris. She briefly wished his mouth was on her when a pair of hungry lips came down hard, cutting off her breath. Strong hands grasped her wrists; yanking them above her head and held them there as she opened her eyes and stared into an angel's face.

Twisting, she tried to get away from him; it was no use. She was pinned abruptly by his weight when he pulled away from the rough kiss. Her breath caught as she felt a leather belt bind her hands to her wrought iron headboard and she shouted in rage.

A hand roughly slapped her and she blinked back tears. Fury filled her as she stared up through the darkness into the hate-filled eyes glaring down at her.

"No, no, no... Angelus! No!"

Disbelief and rage crossed his features as she said his name and his now painfully tight grip on her chin forced her to look directly into his eyes. She swore she saw pain, but that wasn't possible. Angelus didn't wear his pain in his eyes.

His voice broke as he gruffly mocked, "Rules are, you do not speak unless I directly ask you a question. Speak out of turn; you will be punished. Do you understand Buffy?"

"Fuck you, Angelus," she hissed.

He slapped her, harder this time, and she whimpered as white-hot pain streaked across her cheek. Tears came to her eyes as the same hand soothed the tender spot, stroking the soft skin of her face.

"Rules, Buffy. Rules are important. I don't expect you to be breaking anymore rules in our relationship again. Do you understand?"

Hot tears stood in her eyes as she glared up at him and strained against the leather binding. This was not allowed. He wasn't allowed to touch her, to speak to her, to inflict pain on her – no, it was her job to inflict pain.

"You're the one breaking the rules, Angelus."

He shifted his weight and his hands roughly pulled on her thong until the material gave way. Buffy cried out as it was painfully ripped from her body. His hands moved to her face and he pinched her nose until she opened to breath. With quick, sure movements, he stuffed her panties into her mouth.

"Don't even think of spitting it out. You WILL shut up, whether you understand the rules or not," he growled, "This could have gone pleasantly. You could have done as you were told and there would be pleasure with only a little bit of pain. It was your choice, Buffy. It was always your choice."

His hands gently, reverently traced the angles of her face before he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "I've got a surprise for you; be good while I turn on a little home movie."

She felt the bed dip as he moved off her and flicked on a light. Her eyes followed him as he reached into a black leather jacket that was and exact replica of Angel's and pulled out a DVD. She did not make a noise as he fiddled with the electronic devices and, with odd familiarity, flipped on the surround sound and television. With no ceremony, he slipped the disk into her DVD player and threw himself next to her on the bed.

There was a moment of white snow, and he took that opportunity to trace familiar patterns across the planes of her stomach and achingly up to the silky mounds of her breasts. Buffy fearfully stared up at him – a disturbing realization threading through her consciousness.

"Pay attention, lover," he demanded while grasping her chin and directing her attention to the television screen.

The scene before her was sicken-ly familiar. She listened to the recorded version of Angelus' voice, "You won't be able to stay away from me. You think that Angel will be up for this? Do you think he'll punish you the way you need to be punished?" Then the sight of Angelus, tied to eye-screws in his bedroom doorframe as she inflicted any kind of torture that wouldn't leave lasting marks on his golden, tanned back-side. Her eyes glanced fearfully up, and she tried to mumble through the cloth in her mouth.

"Shush, little one. Angelus wanted me to know you liked it... a little more rough."

His hands glided down her body in soothing, circular motions while he moved to straddle her. He smiled sadistically as her terror-filled eyes rolled up to meet his, and he stroked the aching, hard tips of her nipples, rolling them between his fingers before pinching them in a vice-like grip.

His voice was deep and raspy against her ear as he leaned down and whispered, "What I'm wondering is -- exactly how rough does my baby like it?" ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Part 33

His palms were sweaty, making it difficult to retrieve the key from his front jean pocket. With a feral growl, Angelus roughly shoved his hand in and jerked out a stolen copy of her key he had made weeks ago -- along with the white inside of the pocket.

Angelus' usual remote veneer was cracking. He wiped his sweaty hands on his wrinkled, stained tee shirt, before taking a frustrated look at the key in his hand. She was already going to be angry about the DVD, he could only imagine how pissed she'd be about him having access to her home.

Pausing, he pounded on the door one last time. He had expected the wrath of God to come down on him, but not her silence. Breaking and entering wasn't going to make her happy, not that her happiness was important to him, he thought with forced coldness. Her attention, though, was important. At the thought of the many possible punishments for his indiscretions, a feral smirk crossed his lips.

"Fucking bitch," he growled, annoyed that he cared about her response at all. Her apparent "indifference" was the last affront his pride would take, he decided as he violently flung Buffy's apartment door open and stepped across the threshold.

He froze, as he walked into the living room letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. For a moment that seemed to last forever, he glanced in surprise at the disarray of her apartment before picking his way through it. Tripping, he looked down at glossy magazines spilled out from a toppled, woven basket and briefly stumbled against the coffee table before noticing it seemed to have been pushed at a weird angle against the couch. He straightened up and spun on his heel moving at a quicker pace and found himself in the kitchen. Alarm bells sang in his head as he noticed the broken kitchen table that was toppled on the floor and he tried to ignore the thread of fear worming its way through him while his heart raced.

"Buffy," he mumbled, eyes widening in fear as he moved immediately toward the back of the apartment.

"Buffy!" he shouted, pushing open doors as he went.

This didn't feel good -- he thought shakily -- this didn't feel good at all. He wanted her to answer him, and he wanted her to answer him NOW. He pushed open the last doorway in the apartment, and sighed in relief as his body relaxed against the doorframe. Smirking down at his final conquest, he flicked the light switch on the wall; he wanted to see every emotion that crossed her face when she realized what he had done to her.

He stalked to her, letting his hand trail up the satiny skin of her back before sinking down on the bed behind her. He stroked her, enjoying the warmth of her silky skin before pressing his full lips to her shoulder. With gentle hands, he grasped her delicate jaw and turned her to face him. She was boneless and unresponsive as he searched her features. Green eyes stared through him as if he did not exist.

Displeased, he abruptly pulled away and roughly shook her small frame. A low groan came from his mouth as the white sheet slid down her body, revealing a rosy nipple surrounded by a mouth-shaped bruise. Angelus blinked back unfamiliar tears, trying not to respond to her marred flesh – desperate at her not looking at him.

He wrenched the sheet from her body, before noticing the bruises on her wrists. Tenderly, he lifted one small hand to his mouth and pressed his warm lips to the damaged skin.

"Buffy, what happened?" he asked, ignoring the rage and fear that danced through him, "tell me what's going on."

Angelus searched her eyes for an answer, but there was no one home. Desperate for a reaction, he pulled her passive body into his arms and took a moment to savor what it was like for her to not resist him.

"Tell me," he begged in a velvety voice, "Please say something."

Gently, he pushed honeyed strands of hair from her face, tracing her full, pink lips with an index finger.

"I'm begging you, love, say anything."

Her eyes rolled up to meet his and he let out a sigh of relief, fighting the urge to shake her until her teeth rattled for not responding immediately to him. Instead, he pulled her tightly against the muscled wall of his chest, threading his hand through her hair.


He glanced down at the sound of her voice; comforted that she was speaking.

"Yeah," he responded, his voice gruff with unexpressed emotion.

"I never want to see your face again. Ever."

The breath went out of him as he watched the spark of coherence depart and her eyes regain their glossy emptiness. He felt sick as he stumblingly stood, all the while staring down into her vacant eyes. The arrogant smirk was stripped from his face as he lurched to the doorway, grasping each side of the frame with his large, strong hands.

Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as he whispered, "Buff, you're the only one..."

He whispered it, but she heard and answered, "Just go."

He clutched the doorframe, wincing in pain at her words before trying to shrug nonchalantly. He ran his hand through his mussed hair and pulled at his dirty tee-shirt before wiping his palms on his jeans, as if he had touched something unclean.

"I can't," he said more to the silence that hung heavily between them than to her.

With that, he exited the room, leaving Buffy's prone body tangled in the sheets – alone.



Blowing the dust off the top of the book, Angel looked it over before placing it on top of his box of worthless office crap. He glanced around the now empty office that never seemed like him to begin with. He had begun with the best of intentions; he wanted to help. He wanted to ease people's pain; save them. In retrospect, he realized he was hardly qualified to save his own soul, let alone others'.


He looked up at the sound of the crisp, British accent and tried to smile warmly at his friend's entrance. The smile came across as a lopsided frown. Wesley shut the door firmly behind him before crossing to sit in a worn, leather chair.

"Wes," he acknowledged, "What's up?"

Nervously, Wesley removed his glasses and began polishing them with a handkerchief he had pulled from his pants pocket. Not a good sign, the Wes only polished his glasses in public when he was nervous. Angel watched, his brow furrowing as he wondered what his friend was nervous about.

"I need to consult with you on a patient."

Angel shrugged, "Not my area anymore, Wes."

His friend nodded before replying, "Yes, I understand you'll no longer be working in this field, which is a relief to everyone I'm sure."

Angel's eyebrows went up in surprise, "What did you just say?"

Wesley ignored the interruption, "I just wanted your colorful input on this last case, the name is Buffy Summers – I do believe you recognize the name?"

Angel's jaw clenched, as he fisted his hands in his jeans pockets, glaring at the slim man sitting in his office.

"I see from your non-verbals you realize who I'm talking about."

Wes waited a beat for Angel to deny it, but he didn't.

"I also suspect you have her missing file, but that isn't the point of this conversation."

"The point is?" Angel asked from between clenched teeth.

"Ah, yes. The point. My client is in a relationship with a man who has been rather violent to her. Typical pattern of abuse. Man feels out of control in the relationship, breaks into her home, forces himself on her, shames her, beat her up a little, strips her of her control... you've seen the type troop through your office before, right?"

Angel's shoulders went slack before he stated flatly, "You don't know what your talking about Wes."

Wes' face was hard as he glared up at his 'co-worker.'

"How is it exactly, Angel?" Wes asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Angel glared into his friends eyes until Wesley flinched and looked away.

"It isn't that black and white when the woman in question likes a little pain with her pleasure, or did she conveniently forget to tell you that part?"

Wes shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "She told you this directly Angel? Or did you gather this information from an outside source?"

Angel hesitated, "Her actions made it clear..."

"Really? What action screams 'I like it when you beat me' in your mind?"

"Fucking with my brother would be the first one."

"Where on that DVD did you see her having sex with Angelus?"

Angel looked down, his hands held the back of his desk chair in a death grip. He, in fact, did not remember seeing Buffy and Angelus in any remotely sexual position, other than the fact that Angelus was naked.

"Wes, he likes pain. It is sexual to him, you can't tell me she didn't know what was going to happen."

"Going to happen; no. Might have happened; yes. It didn't happen, Angel. She jumped head first into a world she wasn't ready for. She believed she was punishing him for his 'transgressions.' She realized she was wrong, and left the 'situation' after what happened to Darla."

A look of hope crossed Angel's face as he looked up at Wesley. That look was quickly replaced by disbelief.

"And you're here telling me this why? One colleague to another; it is a bit unprofessional."

Wes smiled as he shifted in his chair, taking time to cross one leg casually over the other.

"It is unprofessional, isn't it? Not more unprofessional than stealing a file and using that information to seduce a client, though..." He paused to watch Angel stiffen at his accusation, "not to mention your breaking into the client's apartment and sexually assaulting her."

A dark and deadly look crossed Angel's face and his mouth twisted into an Angelus-like smirk.

"It isn't rape if she never says no, Wes. Once she realized who I was she submitted to everything I did, and she loved every minute of it."

Wesley stiffened in his chair before standing and striding toward the door.

"If you don't stay away from my patient, Angel, I'll have to do something about the missing file."

Angel shrugged, "If you have proof, Wes, do something now."

Wes slammed his office door, and Angel bent to pick up his box. As he turned to leave, and head to L.A., he thought to himself, she did say no, didn't she?

Suddenly things weren't as clear-cut as Angel had thought. Everything seemed to be turning up gray and it wasn't Buffy wearing the darker shades. He sighed as he walked out of his office, box in hand. Some burdens he couldn't put down.



Well, that is it for Criminal. I know things didn't wrap up like everyone had hoped. I'm sorry for that. So sorry, that I'm gonna write a sequel where Buffy gets her "Happily Ever After." Well, as much HEA as I can manage. Till then, I'd love to hear your ideas on who is the better man for Buff. Please drop by the KG Message Boards and let me know what you think!

Love you guys. -Kyria

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