A Fic by: Jenna

Rating: NC-17 for foul language and smut

A/N: Okay, so this is my first foray into B&A in a long, long time and I know I haven't posted on B&A in like—well, forever. And I also know I have several B&A fics out there that seriously need to get finished, but I had lost my inspiration…I can't explain it. It just was, but then I started reading today and my B&A creativity just started to flow and this is what came out. It's not going to be a long one. Three chappies at most, but I was simply excited to be writing about one of my all-time fave couples again, so here it is. Passion…

Dedicated to frosty600 who, unbeknownst to her, got my Angelus/Buffy juices flowing again… Thanks Courtney. :)



A/N 2015: I know I have been gone a long time…and I abandoned this fic, but I am finishing it now. I promise. I have also rewritten each chappie in order to make it better and fix the plot flaws I found. I think this is a much better fic now…let me know if you agree.



Part 1: Angelus:

He stood next to her bed, a dark shadow, barely visible, only the pale sliver of moonlight streaming in through the partially open curtains of the window gave voice to his presence. His dark eyes drifted over her face. He should go, but he hesitated, glancing down once more at the sleeping girl who'd managed to catapult her way into his un-dead heart. He bit back the gag-reflex he got as a myriad of emotions, vile, disturbing emotions, swirled inside him. It was the spell that little witch had performed. He was a demon. He didn't love. He wasn't in love. He would swear to it, yet...he felt infected with that appalling emotion, and had been for some time. And it wasn't just a spell gone wrong. It was deeper. Apalingly deep and...disturbingly wonderful.

He hated it!

He should just snap her neck right now and be done with the annoying need he felt to be closer to her, but he simply couldn't force himself to kill her—at least not yet. Not until he figured out what it was about Buff that made him feel.

Angelus sighed as he ran a knuckle along Buffy's cheek. His touch was almost gentle until he realized how tender he seemed. Disgusted with himself, he jerked his hand back as if she'd burnt him. And maybe she had—or was…? He shook his head and pulled his gaze away from the peaceful face of the Slayer. She looked so damned content. He made a disgusted face at his own thoughts. And yet, why shouldn't she look happily exhausted? He'd literally given her enough orgasms tonight to permanently put a smile on that beautiful face. He'd had his face and his cock buried so far between her thighs in the last two weeks, it was a wonder they hadn't become permanently attached! He licked his lips, still tasting her sweet nectar there from when she'd come, grinding against his face while he'd given her every bit of the benefits of his hundred and fifty plus years of experience at oral sex.

And Buffy had enjoyed it. Oh yeah. She'd enjoyed it so much; she'd pulled his face down between those sweet thighs and begged him to give her an encore performance! And he had. He hadn't made her beg. He hadn't even chained her up. No. He'd just bowed down between those golden thighs and gave her what she yearned for. And what was worse…he'd savored every minute of her screaming his name as she came across his face and down his throat. The way her hot, tight sheath wrapped around his cock was nirvana personified and by far, the closest thing to fucking heaven he was ever going to get!

He scowled and his jaw tightened. He was losing it. He was obsessed with her—his own desires and a spell gone terribly wrong had brought him to his knees and now he was Buff's slave instead of vice-versa.

What the ever-loving-fuck was wrong with him?!

She was supposed to be his enemy, yet one minute he wanted nothing more than to spend the entire night fucking her, and the next he wanted to rip the head right off her shoulders and bathe in her blood. This was extreme mood swings, even for him.

He'd never been hooked on a woman. Not even Darla had fascinated him like Buff did and she had been his God-damned sire! Buffy was his addiction and it scared the shit out of him. His stomach clenched and the urge to vomit hit him hard and fast—this was becoming bad. He shouldn't be sitting here waxing poetic on her beauty. He should be breaking this creature, yet he was ridiculously putting off what needed to be done. Instead of breaking Buff, he was fucking her. Slipping into her bed night after night and taking her over and over until neither of them could see straight! He gave her bliss, not torment. It was disgusting and humiliating.

How had he got here?

Everything had been so simple when he'd come up with this plan. He'd intended to make her pay for the feelings she'd inspired in Soul-Boy and himself. He sighed and his eyes were once again drawn back to the Slayer when she mumbled his name in her sleep and rolled over onto her side, curling up against her pillow and hugging it to her. Buff should be screaming his name in terror, not murmuring it like a caress as she snuggled.

This was intolerable. When had things gone so incredibly wrong?

It didn't take him long to remember. It had started with that damned kiss at the High School. When they'd been possessed by the spirits of old lovers…

A month prior: The Atrium in the Mansion.

Angelus stood under the frigid cold spray of water coming from the fountain and no matter how hard he scrubbed and scraped at his flesh, he just couldn't seem to get the stench of her love off his skin. He knew he was bleeding, could actually feel the layers of skin coming off a strip at a time, but fuck it! This feeling—it clung to him like a vile, twisting snake, swirling around him, tightening, squeezing him, strangling him, until he felt his insides were about to burst and he was going open his mouth and spew out poetry and fluffy pink hearts and roses. It was beyond abhorrent. It made him so sick to his stomach that he'd do just about anything to get rid of it. Even if the 'anything' meant scouring himself into a bloodied and raw piece of meat to do it!

"You might want to let up. They say when you've drawn blood, you've exfoliated," Spike quipped from his wheelchair.

Angelus snarled, whirling on him and baring his teeth. "What do you know about it? I'm the one who was friggin' violated. You didn't have this thing in you," he spat as he stalked past Spike and grabbed his shirt.

Drusilla followed after him, ever his faithful puppy. "What was it? A demon?"

Angelus pulled his shirt on. 'No,' he thought, 'it was so much worse than any demon he'd ever faced.' His lip curled and once again the feeling rose up, choking him until he felt the need to climb back under that water and tear himself apart from the inside out. "Love!" he growled. He wanted to gag. Even the word itself sounded foul coming from his lips.

Drusilla looked on with sympathy. "Poor Angel."

Those words made him want to rip Dru's throat out.

Poor me? Fuck that! I'm not Spike. I'll never be love's bitch!

He knew Dru was only trying to placate him, but Angelus didn't want to hear it. He simply wanted to forget it. He pulled his jacket on, leaving his shirt unbuttoned and exposing the hard planes of his muscular chest. "Let's get outta here. I need a real vile kill before sunup to wipe this crap out of my system."

"Of course," Drusilla said, "we'll find you a nice toddler."

Dru gave him a sexy little growl and he snarled right back, teasing her. He could always take Dru upstairs and try and alleviate this tension inside. He'd had her several times since he'd been back, but lately his preoccupation with Buff had kept him out of her bed.

Yeah, and look where that got me?!

No. He wasn't going there again. He needed to get out. He made his way up the stairs just as Dru glanced back to Spike and asked, "Wanna come, pet?"

Angelus froze midstride. No, unh-unh. There was no way he was listening to 'Roller-Boy's' snarky comments all night. He'd end up dusting him instead of quenching his raging need to feed, fuck and kill!

He bounded back down the steps. "No can do, Dru. I'm sure he'd be hell on wheels, but we don't have much time." He glanced at Spike and smirked. "Gotta travel light." He put his hands on Spike's shoulders and with mock sympathy said, "Sorry. Try to have fun without me."

And with that Angelus led a giggling Drusilla out into the night. He meant what he said. He needed a vile kill, something brutal and ugly, but he wasn't looking for toddlers tonight. No, he was thinking more along the lines of something young, blonde and curvy; some nameless, faceless girl that would be the unfortunate stand in for Buff and what the Slayer had made him feel. His jaw tightened and his gums ached, fangs throbbing, his body burned with the need to rip into butter-soft flesh, and feel the hot liquid gush of blood sliding down his throat. He needed to conquer and destroy. It was, he was sure, the only thing that would make him feel half-way normal again.

"Come on, Dru," he muttered, finally buttoning up his shirt. "I know just where we're gonna go…"

Later that night:

Angelus entered his bedroom from his en-suite bathroom, wrapping a towel around his lean waist. Steam from the scalding shower he'd just partaken in wafted into his massive suite after him as he stared at the bloody sheets of his bed and the naked and half naked bodies and body parts littering his room. He shook his head at the macabre picture. He'd really gone off the deep end tonight—even by his standards! His bedroom was literally showered in blood, but it hadn't helped. He'd fed on, fucked and torn apart four (or maybe it was five) different girls in the last few hours and not one of them had satisfied him. Not one of those girls had eased the hunger. He wanted to slam his face into a brick wall or crawl back under the hot spray of the shower he'd just left and scrub off a few more layers of skin.

He sat on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid the puddles of blood there and went over the grisly deeds he'd committed tonight. He should feel clean again, but as he glanced around his room, he knew he was still infected. Why the fuck hadn't all this carnage helped? He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths in an effort to control his rage at his utter failure to wipe away Buffy and the cloying remnants of her repulsive love.

What the fuck had that little bitch done to him tonight?

The magic inside the school had obviously placed some kind of whammy on him because he felt totally out of control and nothing like himself. His eyes snapped open. It must have something to do with Buff and whatever trauma she'd somehow infused in him during their kiss.

That kiss…Fuck. It had been so magnetic. His cock twitched to life as he remembered with utter clarity how good she tasted and smelled. Like vanilla and honeysuckle. How soft her lips were under his. His mind wouldn't let him forget how she made that tiny little whimper in the back of her throat as he massaged her tongue with his own and the way she eagerly returned the kiss. How her tiny hands had clung to him and then she'd called him by that pansy's name and it had broken the spell, not to mention it had seriously pissed him off. And what was worse, was that he wasn't sure if he was pissed because she'd called him 'Soul-Boy' or because they'd kissed period!

Ugh! God dammit! He couldn't get her out of his head. He leaped off the bed and began to pace, kicking aside the drained and bloodied corpse of his first victim; Vicki-or maybe it was Nicky—whatever the fuck her name was, she'd been a poor substitute. He glanced at the dead bodies of the blonde women scattered around his room. They all had. They'd simply been blood bags. Not one of them had even been worth the effort to even torture. He'd simply fucked and fed, well, a few he'd ripped limb from limb, but that was only after he'd realized the clawing need he was feeling wasn't abating. It was only getting worse. Why wouldn't this shit go away?! How many tiny blondes did he have to kill?! Ten, twenty—a hundred?!

It hit him then and he stopped dead in his tracks. He could kill a thousand and it wouldn't be enough because they weren't her. No other woman could ease this ache. Only Buffy would do. He had to break her. Bring her to heel and then destroy everything good inside her in order to end this. He'd said it to Spike from the get-go. To kill Buff, you had to love her. And he would. He'd love her long and hard and fast, right up until he sank his fangs into her throat and drained her. And then he'd turn her. It was epic. Definitely a plan worthy of 'The Scourge of Europe'! He could only imagine what she'd be like…a Vampire Slayer-turned Vamp. He chuckled wickedly. It was diabolical and just what he needed to get him out of this funk. She'd be magnificent—his greatest creation yet.

Once he'd realized what he needed to do, the gaping hunger quieted down a bit and Angelus felt a little more in control again. He glanced around his normally neat room with a grimace of distaste. He usually wasn't so messy, but tonight had been chock full of special circumstances. The room reeked of blood and sex and for the first time Angelus didn't savor the scents. It was a brutal reminder that he'd failed tonight; failed to wipe the memory of the Slayer from his head despite giving in to his darkest desires. He dropped the towel, pulled on a pair of silk sleeping pants and padded barefooted across the room to the door. He may be feeling marginally better now that he had a plan of action, but he sure as hell wasn't sleeping in this bloodbath, especially when it had done nothing to assuage the baser needs driving him. He strode out of the room and headed for Drusilla's bedroom.

A small smile played about his sensual lips. Maybe giving Dru a little bit of pain would help with the lingering effects of his run in with the Slayer—she always did go for it rough and after all he'd been through, he was feeling downright vicious tonight!


The next night: Sunny-Rest Cemetery.

Damn him! It was his fault she couldn't concentrate!

Buffy tried to dodge the punch, she'd seen it coming, but she was distracted and instead took a solid blow to the jaw, she felt her lip crack and she fell to her knees, panting and spitting up blood. The fledge rushed her again, all brawn, no brains and in an instant she was back on her feet, blocking the kick he'd aimed for her head while deftly spinning out of the way and barely avoiding the charge from the second one coming at her from behind. She should have had these two dusted five minutes ago, but she was off her game; she knew it. Just as she knew the reason was because of what had happened last night. She'd kissed Angelus!

The memory was right there, taunting her and she couldn't seem to get it together tonight to do her duty with her normal speed, efficiency. She couldn't even muster up enough energy to offer up even one of her normal quips to boot. She wasn't slaying with her normal flair, no she was simply trying to get the job done so she could go home and brood some more over how delicious his lips were and how much she missed being able to kiss and touch that perfect body freely and at her leisure.

A third fledge rose from the ground and Buffy groaned. "Great, just what I need."

Suddenly a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she spun to face this newest and by far faster threat. She crouched down into a fighting stance, but instead of attacking her, the blur went after the fledge and in that blip of an instant, one of the newbies turned to dust before her eyes. When the dust cleared and she was able to see Angelus standing there with a stake in his hand, she gasped; stunned.

What the hell?

He waved away the lingering dust with one hand and smirked at her. "You look a little off tonight, lover." His eyes raked over her taking in her split lip and dirty jeans. "And since the only one who'll be killing you…is me." He shrugged. "Thought I'd lend a hand."

Before she was able to come up with a suitably sarcastic reply to that, the other newbies decided to attack. But with Angelus there, her senses had come back full force; razor sharp and tingling with awareness. He was a Master vampire. It used to be the same with Angel. She just fought better with him at her side. Something about all that power just brought out the Slayer in her and with Angelus it was no different. If anything, she was even more hyper-alert. Between the two of them, it was a massacre and the fledglings were nothing more than ashes in the wind in mere seconds.

When the brief fight was over, he strolled up to her, coming to a stop less than a foot away. He tilted his head to the side, as if studying her and Buffy barely controlled the urge to take a step back. Never let him see you sweat. She knew very well Angelus would use any weakness against her, but she did keep a suspicious eye on him, her entire body tight with tension, prepared in case he suddenly attacked her.

When he simply continued to stare at her, Buffy felt some of the tension ease and suddenly she felt weary and oh-so-tired. "What do you want, Angelus?" she sighed, rolling her shoulders to ease the sore muscles there.

He chuckled darkly. "Now that's a loaded question…" He gave a haphazard shrug of his shoulders and reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Buffy yanked her head back and his smile turned nasty. "Oh, I don't know…a new car. World peace…" He snickered for a moment before his smile vanished and eyes turned deadly and cold. "You lying under me covered in blood."

This time, Buffy couldn't help it, she took a step back, several in fact before she got a grip on the utter horror his words had inspired. She gave him a flippant smirk. "Well, good luck with that, but if you stay here, the only thing you're gonna get is my stake in your cold, dead heart!"

He followed after her, taking several steps forward to match the ones she'd taken in retreat. "Really?" he purred in that voice that still had the power to make her knees turn to jelly. "Then do it." He opened his arms wide and stuck his chest out. "Stake me." His eyes darkened and he licked his lips as he let his gaze roam her body. "Because if you don't stake me, I sure as hell am going to stake you," he said, lewdly thrusting his hips forward and leaving no room for doubt on what he planned on staking her with!

Buffy's mind went totally numb. What new game was this? "What the hell are you doing?" She glared at him. "You were pretty clear when you told me I wasn't…" She couldn't finish. It was still too raw and painful.

"What?" His eyes widened and he suddenly grinned. "Oh. You mean when I told you that you had a lot to learn about men?" Buffy didn't answer. She simply stared up at him, her chin tilted at a mutinous angle as if saying, 'you know that's exactly what I'm talking about!'

His answering grin was smugly arrogant. "Well, you do. But I can teach you and I will…" he purred, sliding forward until barely an inch separated their bodies. "I'll teach you everything you need to know, Buff. And by the time I'm through with you, you really will be a pro."

Her face flushed and her breathing became erratic. The images he'd conjured were as arousing as they were disturbing and Buffy was suddenly very, very afraid. "Screw you!" she screamed and shoved him back as hard as she could.

Angelus went flying. He bounced off a massive tombstone in the shape of an angel, breaking one of its wings in the process, and landed on the ground next to the gravestone. He was laughing as he got to his feet again. "Oh, I plan to Buff, just not tonight." He straightened his jacket, but didn't make a move to come towards her again. "Tonight I'm gonna let you go home to your virginal little bed, all alone and dream of me…" He licked his lips. "You're going to imagine all the wicked, delicious things I'm going to do to that hot little body of yours and you're going to ache for me to be between your thighs again."

Buffy blushed profusely while vehemently shaking her head. "I'd never let you do any of those things to me. Only Angel! I love Angel. I hate you. You're a monster!"

He gave her a final smirk. "A monster you're going to let into your bed," he stated with a confidence that set Buffy's teeth on edge.

"Never," she shot back.

He ran a hand down his lean belly and Buffy's eyes were hopelessly drawn to that hand, despite her every desire not to look. Angelus noticed and his smirk widened. "Oh, you'll let me in alright," he taunted seductively. "Because you still want this body despite the fact that it isn't your precious Angel manning the ship anymore. You want me." He leaned in, invading her space. "Even though you know you shouldn't."

Buffy floundered for a scathing retort, but she was far too terrified he was absolutely right and her brain simply couldn't form a reply amidst the panic settling within her, chilling her to the very marrow of her soul.

Was he planning on seducing her now? Was this some new torment he'd cooked up just for her? Oh God.

She backed away from him. "Go away, Angelus. I don't know what this… (She waved a hand between them) is, but I'm not buying it."

As quick as his smile came, it went, and he glared at her with an expression that could only be called seething and malignant. "Believe me…I know how you feel," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

"What's that supposed to mean? How could you possibly know what I feel?"

He rolled his shoulders in a careless shrug. "It doesn't matter, lover. It is what it is. You will be mine—even if I didn't want it that way. It's just meant to be," he said mysteriously and with those ominous words he turned and stalked away, dark coat billowing out behind him.

She blinked, trying to follow him with her eyes, but as quickly as he'd appeared, he'd vanished too, leaving Buffy to stand there in a tumultuous blend of confusion and anxiety about what he was up to with this new strategy.


And so it went. For the next two weeks, every time Buffy was on patrol alone, Angelus would show up, unannounced, help her dust her allotted list, before teasing and tormenting her with his sly innuendos, sexual banter and offensive barbs. Sometimes they'd fight. Pummeling each other until they were both bleeding and painfully broken, but then there were the times when he'd just yank her to him and kiss the breath right out of her. Making her forget everything that stood between them—including her calling.

It was like walking into a tempest. Angelus' moods blew so hot and cold, but Buffy began to crave his presence despite the mercurial changes he exhibited. And it didn't matter if they fought like wildcats, or made out like horny teenagers, each and every time he left, disappearing into a shadowy fog of leather and spicy cologne, he always left Buffy feeling a little more confused and (to her dismay) achingly more aware of her rising desire for him.

Their dance was spiraling out of control. Both of them refusing to give an inch.

Buffy was at the end of her rope.

Angelus was a vampire on a mission.

Something had to give…and it did. The night Spike and Drusilla unleashed the Judge.

Two weeks ago:

Angelus was on the hunt. He needed something young, blonde and pretty. He didn't really care if she was willing at this point. He simply needed to shove his dick into her as he tore her throat out. Buff had been a royal bitch tonight and he needed to make something or someone fucking pay for it.

The Bronze was deserted and he scowled. Where the fuck, were all the girls? Oh, that's right. Prom was next week. Girls went to the Mall before Prom, getting their dresses fitted and all that crap. Buff might not be going, but Angelus was sure a whole hell of a lot of look-a-likes would be there. Juicy little plums, just ripe for the picking.

He smirked and sped off towards Sunnydale's only Mall.

Angelus entered the two storied chrome plaza, stunned at the scene before him. Oh yeah, girls were here and so was every Tom, Dick, Harry and—he glanced to the balcony and scowled when he spied Drusilla and Spike too! The Judge was standing like a statue beside the pair and he rolled his eyes in disgust. Great and they brought the 'Jolly-Blue-Giant' with them too. Across the mall was Buff. She was kneeling and…he almost choked when he saw what she had in her hands…

"Holy shit!" he chortled. She had a grenade launcher!

Angelus had the urge to protect Drusilla, his favored childe, but really…this was just a stupid plan, one he'd vetoed two days ago. Apparently Spike and Dru had decided to go it alone, despite his order to forget it, because here they were facing off with the Slayer in a fight they couldn't possibly win. He crossed his arms over his chest and decided to wait and see how it worked out for them. He snorted softly, like he didn't already know!

Like any curious spectator, Angelus' eyes went back and forth between the combatants

The Judge was blathering on about some nonsense saying "no weapon forged would be able to hurt him".

And he looked real intimidating…that is until Buff hefted that damned cannon onto her shoulder. "That was then…" she said, aiming the rocket launcher. "This is now."

Angelus recognized that look in her eyes. Buff wasn't fucking around and she was about to kick some serious Jolly-blue-ass!

The Judge (still not the brightest bulb on the tree) asked what her weapon did. Buffy's smirk was almost as wicked as his own and Angelus decided it would be a good time to seek cover. He'd just hit the floor and managed to position himself behind a huge potted plant when she pulled the trigger.

The explosion was deafening and Angelus glanced up just as Drusilla leaped off the balcony in a mad dash to save herself. Spike, still in his wheelchair, went flying when the Judge got hit with Buffy's grenade. Angelus turned his head away, ducking behind his cover as the demon exploded, sending blue body parts flying. After the smoke cleared, he raised his head again. Drusilla was babbling and crying hysterically as she searched the rubble for Spike. Angelus ignored his need to help his childe—he was her Sire, but he sure as hell wasn't aligning himself with this fiasco just to save the bleached wonder! Just then Spike's blonde head popped up amongst the debris. He was cursing fluently (as usual) and Angelus almost felt sorry for the peroxided twit as Drusilla had to pick his broken body up in her skinny arms and carry him from the wreckage of their failed attempt to bring down the Slayer. He turned away from Spike and Dru hobbling away. They should have listened to him and his sympathy was short-lived. Instead his eyes went to Buffy. She was jubilant in her victory—face flushed with triumph. He imagined her nipples were even hard. The image of Buff turned on after a kill made his cock rise up and push against the fly of his leather pants. She was sexy like this. Death wrapped in a pretty package, just like he was.

In that instant, Angelus decided he'd waited long enough.

Tonight she would be his…


Later that night: Buffy's bedroom.

With a sigh, Buffy sat on the edge of her bed and began to undress. She pulled off her hoodie and tossed it across the room, it landed half in half out of her hamper, but she was too tired to notice or care. Her hands went to her jeans and she unbuttoned them, before standing up and sliding them down her hips and kicking them off. They landed in a heap by her closet, but again, she didn't care. She simply needed to take a shower and crawl into bed and maybe sleep for a week or so.

Tonight had been a real bitch. Thank God Xander had gotten a hold of that RPG grenade launcher or else they'd all be burnt to a crisp right about now. The only surprise had been that Angelus had been mysteriously absent for the whole shin-dig. Buffy didn't even want to dwell on why she felt the need to always know what he was up to. She excused it by saying it was because he was so dangerous, but in her heart of hearts, she knew she was lying to herself. She simply wanted to see him. To know he was still around even if she couldn't have him anymore.

With a muttered curse, she pushed Angelus from her mind, grabbed her toiletries and a towel and headed for her bathroom for a much needed shower.

A half hour later, a freshly scrubbed Buffy headed back to her room. Her body felt better after the long hot shower, but her heart and mind were still in turmoil. She got into bed and curled up on her side with Mr. Gordo clutched to her chest. She remembered Angel playing with him and it brought forth both a smile and a slight sob.

God! She missed him so much.

Silent tears trailed down her face as she remembered that one beautiful night with him. It had been everything every girl dreams of for their first time. He'd been so tender. So gentle, yet so magnificently good that it had literally rocked her world and knocked her socks off. She'd never imagined making love could feel like that. He'd made her body sing and she ached to have that back. She shivered. Angelus' kisses were so different. It was the same mouth, but where Angel swept her away with loving exchanges. Angelus dominated her with brutal efficiency. He took control of every aspect of their passion and (despite her best efforts to the contrary) he made her body sing too.

Was he right? Did she still ache for Angel so badly that she was willing to let the demon have her in order to be possessed by that beautiful body again?

Buffy whimpered and buried her head in her pillow. He was breaking her down and she simply didn't know how to stop him.


Angelus sat crouched on the tree outside her window. Her back was to him, but he could hear the small sobs she tried to keep hidden and rejoiced in them. She'd had a major win today, but still she cried. He smiled. Finally, she was starting to feel the pain. No one could exhibit their misery as beautifully as Buff. She truly was glorious in her grief. He wanted to lick the tears from her face, just to taste the sweet agony there.

It was time. Time to make her really suffer…

Silently, he swung a leg into her window and eased his shoulders inside. He paused, waiting to see if she'd heard him before making his way over to the bed.

He slipped his jacket off and just then Buffy rolled over. He tossed the leather duster across the small chair in her room and gave her what he hoped was a disarming smile. "Why so sad, Buff? The Slayer and her Scooby Gang saved the day. Shouldn't you be celebrating?"

Buffy froze. Her tears still wet on her cheeks as she stared at him, the delicious torture she was feeling written all over her face and Angelus had to restrain himself from just jumping her and going for the jugular. Her torment was like the sweetest ambrosia and he wanted to eat her up and then come back for seconds.

"Go away," she whispered hoarsely. He didn't respond and she added a breathless and broken, "please."

Her plea was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. An invitation he couldn't refuse. "I can't," he said as his fingers went to the buttons on his shirt and he flicked open the top few, exposing a good portion of his sculpted chest. "Your torment calls to me. If you let me, Buff. I can make it all go away."

His words, as well as the sight of him undressing galvanized Buffy into action and she scooted up against her headboard, pulling her comforter up to her chin. "Wh-what are y-you doing?" she stuttered, helplessly ogling his pale beauty while trying to come to grips with the twist in her plans for the evening.

"What does it look like?" he said, fingering the next button on his shirt teasingly before flipping it open.

Buffy licked her lips, shaking her head as if denying what she was seeing. "I don't know, but I don't like it. Get out!"

He chuckled. "We both know you don't really want me to leave, Buff, so quit playing the ingénue and start getting out of your clothes, lover."

"Anja-what?" His response was a smirk and Buffy shook her head to clear it of the spell he seemed to be casting on her. "Whatever Angelus," she snapped, doing her best to glare at him menacingly. "I'm warning you, if you undue or open one more button—I'll stake your ass!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "You're really adorable when you're mad, Buff. But we both know you don't mean that. You could've staked me several times, but you didn't. There's a connection between us and I'm done fighting it." He placed a knee on her bed, ready to see if Soul-Boy's fantasy was real or fiction. "I think it's time we revisit that night of 'perfect happiness' and see if it was all it was cracked up to be. Don't you?"

Buffy's eyes about popped from her head at that. "No!" she gasped, jumping from bed and making a mad dash for the door.

Angelus got there first and she bumped right into his chest. He caught her and held her captive in his arms. "Unh-unh-unh," he chided, wagging a finger at her. "No more running away. We've played this game long enough. I know you want me, Buff. Quit denying it. Your kisses tell me everything I need to know."

The prominent bulge in his pants was pressed right up against her belly, letting her know he was quite serious. With a sharp cry of fear and frustration, Buffy yanked herself free. "Stop," she demanded as she backed away from him, panting, confused and (God help her) excited too. "You're insane right? You've finally just went completely loopy and lost your evil little mind!"

Angelus ignored her diatribe as he strode forward. His smirk was pure sin as he told her, "First of all, Buff, there's nothing and I do mean nothing little about me, lover. You know that." Buffy gasped and her face burned at his insinuation. Angelus grinned and kept right on coming. "Second. Just admit you want me. I think it's obvious I want it, too." He glanced down at his body and Buffy's eyes were drawn there as well. Her cheeks reddened even further when she got a good look at the way his leather pants were stretched oh-so-taut over his crotch. Angelus chuckled huskily when she hastily looked away, biting her lip. "Why are we fighting it?" he asked her. "Let's give each other what we need…" He stalked her back towards the bed, making sure he kept a close eye on her in case she made a break for it again. "Give in… You know you want to."

Buffy shook her head vehemently, holding out a hand as if to ward him off. "No. I can't. Stay away from me, Angelus."

He made a *tsking* sound and stopped. "I'm disappointed in you, babe. I never took you for a liar."

Her eyes widened. "I'm not—"

"Yeah, you are," he told her crossing his arms over his chest. "I can smell your desire. You want me. I want you." He shrugged. "Why does this have to be such a big deal?"

"What the hell do you mean? It is a big deal! It's huge!"

He laughed out loud, a wicked sound that sent shivers racing up Buffy's spine. "That's what you said the first time, but you handled it fine." His hand cupped his package lewdly and Buffy's face flushed about seven shades of bright red at such a wicked display.

"I—you know I wasn't—" She sputtered to a stop when he just grinned even more and finally she simply snarled at him. "You're an asshole!"

He took her momentary lack of focus to his advantage by tackling her onto her bed. Buffy fought him like a wildcat but his superior weight pinned her to the mattress beneath her writhing body. He held her arms over her head and ground his arousal against the hot core between her straining thighs. She trembled and let out a soft gasping moan and Angelus knew he had her. She was his for the taking…


Okay that's the end of the 1st part. Click that little button and feed the beast so she can feed me… :)