b Huge note: This fic in an Alternate Universe where The Prom happened after Graduation Day Part I, but everything else is the same. Crazy 'Verse, huh? I totally screwed up the order of things! I realize The Prom happened BEFORE Faith and Buffy had their big show down now. I kept thinking it happened during "Choices." My bad. I think this brain fart has something to do with them screwing with the original air-dates way back when due to The Columbine shooting; they waited to air Graduation Day because you know a big snake, totally like a school shooting…Sigh. Anyway, hope you all can still enjoy the fic! /b


So," Buffy said as she plopped down on Angel's bed with enthusiasm.

"I got a few magazines for prom dresses and ideas and stuff," she said and poured out her school bag.

"A few?" Angel smirked at her.

Out came about twenty separate books of bound glossy paper with different (delicious) bony lily white girls in different color dresses. It would remind him of days gone by if all these pictures of dresses didn't look so shiny and at the same time flimsy. Ever since the 1930s any true style was gone, as far as Angel was concerned, now it was all about fashion.

"Well, I didn't want to miss anything," Buffy said, blushing slightly, "I mean after I missed almost everything in high school, the least I can do is have a perfect prom, right?"

She was so adorable. No, adorable didn't do her justice. Magnificent, Perfect, her flaws just made her more perfect.

"'The greatest thing of all is to love and to be loved in return-- Prom 1999'" Angel read the magazine's old time looking calligraphy letters that didn't really look old time at all as far as he was concerned.

"Geez," he smiled at the love of his life, "Even I know that's schmaltzy. It's just a dance. I bet most of the kids that are going aren't even going with who they really want."

Angel could still remember going to those awful debutant cotillions and being forced to dance with someone's boring bucktoothed daughter they wanted to marry off as his father stared at him to keep him dancing.

"Well," Buffy said, "I know I'm going with who I really want."

"Sure," he said half listening as he was trying to forget his father's eyes.

He only had to look into Buffy's to do that of course. She was smiling. He loved her hair this year; it had gotten brighter and blonder. When he ran his fingers through it, it made him feel alive. (No, dumb-ass. We've never been alive. Lust. It makes us lust. Careful, Careful, you stupid sap. I just might come out if you pet her too long.)

"So, what are these for?" he asked as he picked up one of the magazines, "to find out if I'm a flirt?"

"What? You're flirting with someone?" Buffy asked, there was just the right amount of fire in her eyes when she thought of him flirting.

"Just you," he assured, "No there's a quiz to find out if you're a flirt. Should I take it? I haven't studied."

She laughed. He loved this new found talent he had of making her laugh. When you spend a bunch of years in the gutter, briefly coming up for air, humor wasn't really something you were well versed in. (C'mon, shit-head. I'm a laugh riot. Just bang her. Stick your dick in her and let me out. I'll have her rolling on the floor, or at least her head will be. See that was funny, right?)

"I can be more fun. Here's one to see if I have combinations skin," he said, "I don't think I need to take that one. My skin is pretty much all the same."

"Yeah, pale and dead. I guess vampires never break out. Did you breakout as a teen?" she asked.

(Tell her, Romeo. Tell her, you fucking cowardly bastard. How at eighteen you spent all your time away from your books not to help anyone but yourself. All you wanted was to figure out a way to be drunk and waylaid in other ways. Tell her how you had fantasies of sneaking up on the servant girl and fucking her from behind and running away before she knew it was you. Let me know when you get tired again, and want to let a real man out.)

"I don't think I worried about it that much," Angel sighed.

"Here's a quiz to see if you're shallow," Angel said, "I don't think I need to take that one. Does that mean I'm shallow?"

She was doing that thing with her mouth where she had a smile on, but it was slowly fading like the setting sun. What was she thinking about? Was she going to be upset that he dodged another question about his past? Angel tried to think really hard about whether or not he had pimples as a youth.

"You're the deepest man I know," she said as she grabbed for his hand and looked deep into his eyes.

God, if his heart could beat she could rip it out of his chest and hold it in her perfect little hands forever, and that would be as painful and as beautiful as it sounded.

"Not that that is really saying much," she said, "I mean after hearing all the thoughts of the boys in high school you could just want anything other than sex and you'd be Confucius."

The mist had left her eyes and she was smiling.

"Well," he sighed, "we know I want more than sex."

(I know I want more than sex. I want more than you'll ever let yourself want, and even if I stay down here forever, I'll have more than you'll ever have.)

"I have everything I want though. But, I guess you don't need to read the article about whether or not you should do it after The Prom. You brought these here because of The Prom?" he asked.

And just like that she was tearful. Not exactly crying but tearful. She moved so fast. He couldn't keep up with her in the fight or in the world of human emotions.

"Buffy," Angel said pulling her into his lap, "Don't worry. I--I've been thinking a lot about this and there are things we can do. I mean there are other ways I--I can please you--make you happy."

"I don't care about that, stupid," she sniffed, "Sometimes I just think that I may be shallow. I mean, The Ascension is coming. I know it; I feel it and what do I do? I think about the prom non-stop. Willow and I already looked at dresses three times. Faith--Faith is in a coma, and I almost killed her. Not that I regret that. I'd try to kill her again; I'd think I'd kill myself to save you."

"Buffy, no!" Angel gasped.

(No! What do you mean, no! Admit it, heart-throb. This is what you always wanted, some little bitch with her nose in the air giving herself all up and over for you. That's what all the drinking, whoring and stalking was really about. When I drove them insane I'd watch them go slowly over to me--the artist I am! And here it's not needed. Still the art I could create. She's begging for it! The most powerful most stupid little bitch in the wor---)

"No!" he yelled, "Buffy, no! Don't ever say anything like that let alone do it again."

For a second her eyes looked frightened, almost pleading, like when he hit her to make her leave him at sunrise. (You keep on pretending that's why you did it. You keep pretending you hated it, like you pretend you hated the time with Faith when you let me out just a little. You should have let that one have at me-- at us. Faith would let us share. We both could have broken her so well. But, I guess Faith is my girl. She'll wake up you know, and so will I.)

"Don't say that," he whispered.

Now Buffy looked angry as she slipped off his lap.

"You're mad," she said in a whisper, "Mad I tried to kill Faith for you. Well, I don' t care! She tried to kill you, Angel, after you helped her."

"I'm not mad about Faith," Angel said, "I told you however you wanted to handle that was up to you."

"Oh," she said, looking sheepish.

"I'm mad about you," he said.

"That's cute. In the spirit of that show, or the Belinda Carlyle song. God, I hope they don't play too much 80s at The Prom...Unless, do you like 80s music?"

"No, I mean I'm mad--angry--upset that you are basically willing to kill yourself for me. I know you love me, Buffy, but you have to promise me that you'll never put yourself in such danger for me again."

"No," she said, "I protect innocent people. It wasn't about me loving you, or maybe it was but what's so wrong with that? How is it I can protect the whole world, but not the person I love the most?"

"I'm not an innocent person, Buffy," Angel almost laughed.

She was so pure that she thought someone she loved had to be good. (She is so naive. So fucking stupid it was funny. Don't you wanna just eat her up?)

"You've made amends. You'll never do anything wrong again. You're innocent, and even if your not I love you," she said.

"I'm supposed to protect you, Buffy. That's how it works," he said.

"That's how it works?" she repeated haughtily, "Sometimes I really remember you're from the Victorian era.

I'm the Slayer. I know how it works. I protect the world and that umbrella falls under the people I love, perfectly innocent or not."

Her hands were on her hips and her lemony blonde hair bouncing.

"I'm not from the Vic-- Maybe your about as good of a Slayer as Faith then, if you're going to do reckless things like let vampires bite you."

The worst vampire. She doesn't know who my boy is at all, does she? Why don't you show her? Another blonde with a high flighty voice was in his head. Angel knew that this voice was pure illusion. He wished he could be so sure about the other voice all the time. He was pretty sure it was just him torturing himself. Now someone else was trying to cause him pain. Buffy had just hit him for what he had said.

"What are you doing?" Angel couldn't help but smile a bit, "Trying to get me to bite you again? It only works when I'm dying and delirious."

"You could be doing those things sooner than you think if you don't shut-up," she said, "I wasn't being reckless when I had you bite me. I knew exactly what I was doing. I trusted you. I knew you would stop."

"Well, maybe you're just a fool then. That part of me is a demon, Buffy," Angel told her as he grabbed hold of her little arms.

"What's this part of you?" she asked those powerful little arms pushing his four-times her size ones closer to her.

"The dick part?" she demanded.

She was cute when she was only a little angry like this. Hot. She was kissing him. She grabbed at him like she was starving for him. He supposed she would be. They had spent so much time just holding each other lately, thinking about this biting thing. They hadn't really talked about it, but Angel was pretty sure that was what Buffy was thinking about too. Now they were kissing again, and it was salty, satisfyingly torturous as usual. It was going a little too far too fast. She had ripped of his shirt, and he didn't even care if the buttons were ripped. He was in his wife-beater now, he really hated that name for a T-shirt. She pushed him up against his white stone wall and grabbed at his chest. Angel's head was so clear and quiet. He was in love and it was good.


When she got really carried away she liked to climb him like she was scaling a wall or something. She had her legs rapped around him and her hands around his neck, which she was kissing, licking. Okay. Okay. This was good, good. He slipped his hands under her ass. She was feeling him through his pants.

"Buffy," he said firmly now.

"Wha?" she breathed pulling back from him to look at his face.

"Oh," she said, and pulled her little hand away from his black jeans, "Ooew, sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean. I just love you, Angel. I do. I want to...I need to do something about it."

She rapped her hands around his neck clinging to him now like a somber little monkey. A beautiful, perfect, golden haired, slim hipped, firm thighed little monkey. She thought he was criticizing her for going too far. Somehow that job had fallen on him to decide how far they could go. He supposed it was fair, since it was his evil demon side that could come out and destroy the world if they went too far.

(It was my job to go too far, to push the limits of pleasure and pain to its heights, and here you are with your job as the nun at the catholic school dance, you chump!) He wasn't a chump. He had found a way to beat the curse. He was waiting for the right time to reveal it. Everything had been so crazy lately that he could never find the right time, but everything was always crazy.

"Don't be sorry. I'm not," he said, "I just wanted to tell you something. Well, show you something, but I guess we should talk about it before...Um, you know, how the curse is, with the true happiness and everything. Well, maybe, um, there's a way I could be happy with you. I mean, a way I could make you truly happy without me...Maybe there's a way that we could be kind of truly happy but not technically truly happy."

He stopped and took a deep breath as he saw her big round not quite blue eyes looking at him with such innocence.

"You mean like a blow job," she said simply.

"I--What?" he exclaimed if she wasn't holding on to him he would have dropped her.

"That is what you mean, right?" she said, "I've been thinking about it forever. Willow suggested it, but I even thought about it before. I was just waiting for the right moment, the right time. Everything has been so crazy, but things are always---"

"Willow?" Angel was floored, "Willow talked about you and me and a-a-Willow suggested a-- that you and me--that was the way to beat the curse!"

She had climbed down from him and was pulling him towards his bed.

"I thought of it first or maybe not. But, I thought of it on my own first. I know Will is like the expert on your curse and the putting back of your soul, but I'm the expert on the care and feeding of it, or at least I wanna be."

"You--you didn't mention this to Giles or---"

"Oh God, Angel!" Buffy barked in disgust, "And now the new idea is officially postponed due to a rain of complete gross out! Are you serious? How could you think I'd mention it to...I can't even finish the sentence for fear of vomit."

"Well, you told Willow," Angel said as he watched his girlfriend pace before him in her now rumpled clothes-- a short cotton skirt and a mock football jersey that was tight of course.

"Willow is my best friend. Girls talk about these things, you know?" Buffy said.

"They do?" he asked.

"Ways to get around your lover's curse with oral sex? Of course they do," she said.

"Yeah, I guess, but Willow..."

Angel knew that girls did talk about these things. He'd been around them long enough to know. Listening to them at bus stops, hearing them at all night diners, following them on their drunken walks home from afar in case they were attacked.

(Listening to their hearts filled with blood and life, beating, gushing. Thinking how completely awesome it is that thanks to the sexual revolution every one of them is now behaving as the true whore that they are from queens to school girls. You could smell it. Their desire. You can smell it better than they could, see it, like when cute innocent little Willow's eyes lingered on Faith's leather clad ass too long. You sit there and wonder why Buffy's little helper wasn't too eager to help the crazy whore, when you know it's because she really wants to be whoring with the whore as much as she wants to be whoring with the wolf boy. Little Willow's desires scare her to death. )

"I just...I see Willow differently than somebody who knows--- than somebody who's interested in...I mean," Angel stammered as Buffy gave him her wavy-lined smile.

She looked at him like he was a spaz that thought he could dance and she was trying not to laugh.

(If you're too much of a pussy to tell her that her best friend has serious repressed desires at least show her yours.)

"I don't want to talk about Willow anymore," Buffy said.

"Me neither," Angel said, and he pulled her in for more kissing.

It was no surprise that it went much further much faster. He had taken the annoyingly tight girlie football shirt-thing off and she was in a white cotton embroidered bra. She stopped him long enough to look at him.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

(Is this okay? You could probably do that thing with the branding iron that I used to do to Dru and it would be okay. This slayer's a pistol. She wants me out.)

"No," Angel whispered, "Maybe this is not..."

Buffy kissed him hard. She looked at him with that seductive, yet sad face he seemed to have created for her to wear, and unhooked her bra.

He went to her pink little pert nipples and sucked and bit at them. She whimpered and moaned and held the back of his head.

(You are nothing if not a master of control. This one is so sensitive. Fresh and still innocent enough and that's what you love about her. Remember how hard I'd have to bite down on Darla's little nips and lick off the blood to get her to scream like that? This one will never let you do that. Remember how the ones would scream who didn't give me permission? You'll never get to do that.)

"I don't care," Angel whispered, "I don't care about anything but you, Buffy. I'll give up anything."

"Oh Angel, Angel," she moaned, "Let's just do this all the time, and then I can give you blowjobs. It will be perfect."

"I don't know, Buffy," he gasped, as he lifted his head up to look at her.

"I think if you---If I go off, I could go off, you know?"

Her face looked so hurt and miserable. He wanted to see her face when he was at her breasts.

"I didn't think that was it, after what you said to me," she said.


"I mean, I didn't think it was about you…going off. You said I wasn't very good, well you didn't quite say it, but it didn't seem that I was very good. So, I thought you didn't really like the way you went off…the first time. I know you did go off though; I wasn't that stupid. I mean, it was my first time and I was really overwhelmed but I still knew…"

"What?" Angel repeated, truly confused.

(You're such a moron.)

"You kind of said the sex wasn't that good. I mean he did—Angelus," Buffy's eyes filled with tears and then she smiled, "But it's a good thing. We know that you…going off…isn't what gives you a perfect happy. So we can do the blow job thing."

He really wished she'd stop saying "blow job" like it was nothing. (Stick it in her mouth. Strangle her with it. Remember how it was a little too big for her to take on. Imagine that happening right in her face.)

"Stop it. Buffy," Angel sighed, "Making love to you was the happiest moment of my life. Obviously, look what happened. There's no arguing it."

"No," she sniffed, "I know it had something to do with the sex, I think it's the idea of sex with me that makes you perfectly happy. That I want you to make love to me, that I let you, that I give myself to you completely, and with a blow job---"

(The pistol is pretty smart on the matters of a whore, isn't she? Go on, test her theory out. What's the worst that could happen?)

"I'm not going to listen to this for another minute!" Angel said as he stood up from the bed.

He now stood over the topless Buffy as she sat up. Her young firm breasts seemed to be turning their nipples up at him, but she looked surprised and hurt he pulled away. She was still sniffing. Her running make up reminded Angel of former days. She looked beautiful for all the wrong and right reasons.

"I can't believe you'd believe something that Angelus said over me," Angel said in quiet hurt.

"Well, Angelus isn't exactly Mr. Lie-to-spare-Buffy's-feelings. You, that's practically your middle name. You might as well have it legally changed. Besides you never really said anything different."

"I just said it was obviously the best time of my life," Angel grumbled now.

"Yes," Buffy said, "but that's not about the quality of the sex, it's about the feelings going on, or at least I think so."

"Buffy, it was the best sex of my life, okay?" Angel said.

"Wait," she gasped, "You mean it was all about the sex and not about the feelings."

"You know it's when you drive me crazy like this I feel the sanest," he told her.

"I think that's crazy," she quipped suddenly grinning.

He knew another quick witted blonde that changed emotions this fast, but he didn't give a rat's ass about her. She couldn't haunt him. Nothing could because he loved Buffy.

He kissed her tenderly the way she should be kissed now. She was in his lap and he rolled her over.

"The idea was about finding another way to make you happy, not me," he smiled feeling like the man he was as he slipped his hand under her skirt.

She closed her eyes and smiled.

"I'm sure all I would need was one little kiss from you down there and I'd lose my soul forever. No one could get it back," he whispered gently as he began to move his hand a little less than gently.

Buffy gasped and shot up in surprise. Then she shut her eyes and lay back lifting only her hips up.

"That's what I'm talking about," he whispered, "Nice and easy."

"Oh G---Ange---You didn't---we never—"she stammered and moaned.

"I know, baby, I know," he said, "That's because you never gave me a chance. You were too busy climbing all over me like a jungle gym. Grabbing at me like I'm a lolly pop."

The first time he saw her she had a lolly pop. If he knew then where he'd be now...

"I'm sorr—sorry," she moaned.

"Shhh," he said, "The only sorry one is me. I could've pried you off of me long enough to get my hand inside of you…Make you all buttery."

He couldn't help but laugh at all the noise she was making. He'd like to think all the noises were beautiful, but the truth was sometimes she sounded like a girl being tortured. Well, pleasure and pain could often be the same thing. He would know. She really had quiet the little snapper. Her insides dripped and tightened around him. He had found her spot, not that it had been hard. He just had to follow his nose, so to speak. It really wasn't a large area to track.

She was bucking and whipping her head side to side and whimpering. He could make her happy so easily, with just one hand, with two (sometimes three) fingers. Why hadn't he done this before? What was he afraid of? He liked the feel of himself about the burst out of the crotch of his pants; it was a torture he had control of.

Angel was laughing maybe because he was so happy that he could make her happy or that he was such a Jack-ass for not thinking of this before, or maybe it was because Buffy sounded like a wounded bunny when he knew it was just her continuous coming.

"Don't—don't—don't—"she said, and he slowed fearing she was telling him to stop.

"Don't laugh," she breathed out when he slowed.

She opened her eyes and kissed him, and then he went back to his steady pace.

Sometimes she'd try to talk and he slow down just enough to let her whimper out half of what she wanted. Then he'd speed up again as soon as he got the gist and she'd whimper. He got out of her that: she loved him, that she might faint, that she didn't know it could be like this.

"This isn't even the best I can do," he said quietly to her.

Then, he ripped her little skirt off along with her underwear. She looked at him bug-eyed and almost frightened, but did nothing to stop him.

"Oh God, Angel!" she wailed.

He kissed down her little tiny stomach until he got to her very wet buttery thighs and stuck his tongue in her. She was the one that started laughing now and she pushed him away.

"No, no, no," she giggled, "I don't want to do that. I don't want to do that."

"Why?" he looked up surprised.

(The little bitch wanted you to fuck her. She thought you were going to fuck her again and she wasn't going to stop you.)

"I don't know," she giggled and pulled her knees up to her chest, "It's just kinda…kinda gross. I mean it's all wet down there. It's the last place I'd want to put my mouth."

"Well, you're not doing it," he said, "and you said that you'd do it for me."

"Yeah, I would do it for you. You're all, ya know, out side, and I'm all, ya know, inside. You're really sticking not just your mouth, but your whole face inside a person. It's gross. I guess I could never be with a girl, " she was still giggling.

"You sound like you thought a lot about this," he said, "So, I guess when I see you dancing all sexy with girls I shouldn't worry."

(You're such a light weight! You can't even say: i So you thought about munching Faith's rug before you put her into her coma, and decided you couldn't. C'mon I saw you on the dance floor, school girl. Don't worry that little jail-bait puts out fuck-vibes to everyone. Hey, maybe you could give her a visit now. /i )

Buffy howled in laughter like a girl at a slumber party and pulled the pillow across her. She seemed so sweet and so pure about the whole thing, but there was something that bothered him.

Little Miss Innocent is going to reject my boy's finest gift. Something's not right. How does she know all about this? Remember how many fake virgins I could spot? She's making a fool of my boy.

"You've never done it before, with someone else?" Angel asked as he felt his brow wrinkling.

"Angel, no!" she blushed, "I just think it's gross. All the licking. Like you're eating a person, a girl. I guess that's where that 'eat me' thing comes from. I never realized."

"So, it's because I'm a vampire!" Angel said, "You think it's like feeding off of you. What do you think? That you'll be coming too close to that time of the month and I'd lose control and hurt you?"

All traces of laughter left Buffy's face as she glowered at him.

"No, Angel," she said, "I think it's because I'm eighteen and all of this is really new to me. And that 'time of the month' thing? Even grosser than the Giles mention."

It was funny how when she said this all girlishness and happiness left her face.

Stupid school girl, she couldn't even begin to make my boy happy.

"Buffy, you're the only thing that's ever made me happy. I don't care about sex or about...any of this. I just want to be with you," Angel pleaded.

She rushed to find her clothes. She had the bra back on in an instant. She was now messing with the ripped underwear and skirt to make them look presentable. God, he hoped Joyce wouldn't notice.

"You just want to be with me and not deal with sex at all because you think I'm stupid about it. You don't think I can think of anything good for you by myself or trust you!"

(Way to go, Archie! Betty's running out. You should go over and score with the comatose Veronica. She won't complain.)

"I can't believe your saying that. Buffy!" Angel said, "Buffy, I'm sorry. All of this is really new to me too, ya know?"

"Really?" she blustered, "Because it seems to me like it's not. It seems to me like you've had tons of sex and you're just sitting there laughing at me or upset that I want to do something you don't want to do, or that I don't want to do something that you want to do."

"I am not laughing at you," Angel said.

(I'm doing enough laughing for both of us, buddy.)

"I may've had tons…This is the first time I'm having…that I'm with someone I love," Angel sighed.

"I understand," she said, "But, for now I just gotta…gotta go."

(She doesn't understand. She does not! She wants you to be her pet--like Darla. She even wants you to sacrifice eating her out, because she knows, she knows, you might just get a little vamp joy out of it. I'll bet she doesn't really want to blow you either. She just wants you to get her off a thousand times like you just did, and then leave in a righteous huff. She wants your blue balls dangling. She wants to hurt you back, because I hurt her. You're to much of a dupe to hurt her. You can't hurt her, can you? Only I can. She's just like Darla! She wants you to be her pet while you surpass her; only this bitch wants you to surpass her in her art of sacrifice!)

That's right. Angel knew Buffy did understand, and she would understand when he made the sacrifice that she couldn't make. He would sacrifice them. He would leave.

(Well, that'll show her.)

No, that would show him, he could do it. He could have control over his desires. Angel could be a man.


This is for Lryic Wheel. Currently I've lost my lyrics to post . But, the lyrics used were: "The greatest thing of all is to love and to be loved in return." Oh, the irony!