Author: Laure Alexander
Email: laurealexander@hotmail.com
Notes: For the IWRY Anniversary: a month long celebration of Buffy/Angel fics.

He'd killed the dragon, but he'd also lost Gunn and Wes that night.

And Spike had broken.  That had been the true shock of all of the horrors that had followed them from L.A. across the country, fleeing one step ahead of death.

Spike, who reveled in violence, who found it all bloody fun, was shattered by the seemingly never-ending stream of demons that pursued them.  He tried to keep fighting, some days even seeming to return to normal, but Angel could see the truth in the younger vampire's eyes.

He was done.

Surprisingly enough, Illyria became his salvation, protecting him like a mama bear, feeding him her blood which kept him alive, strengthened him, and changed him.

Who could have known that the blood of a god in the shell of a human would turn a vampire mortal?

Two years later Angel still found it incredibly ironic that shanshu had come to pass for one of them in such an odd manner, but he'd learned to deal with it, accept it over time.  And the little part of him that remained the Irish brat reveled in the fact that while Spike had become human, he was the one who had won the true prize.

Although if she knew he thought of her that way for even an instance, she'd kick his ass.

After parking his car in the attached carport of their apartment in a quiet residential neighborhood in Santa Monica, Angel went in through the kitchen door and followed the sound of loud music. The kitchen flowed into the living room, but he stopped just at the partition and smiled at the sight of his lover pushing a swiffer around the floor, dancing to some atrocious pop singer, and singing off-key at the top of her lungs.  He tried to sneak up on her, but she knew he was there and swung around nearly banging the dust mop into his knee.

"Are you tracking goo into this house?"

He glanced down at his boots, then gave her a chagrined look and backed up quickly to the mat inside the kitchen door, leaving several blueish foot prints behind.

"Angel!"

"Sorry."  Taking off his boots, he watched her mop up the mess. "I'll make it up to you."

Buffy tried to scowl but the twinkle in her eye betrayed her.  "I'll hold you to that."  She made a face as she peeled off the swiffer cloth and tossed it in the bag she was collecting trash in-- amazing how much junk mail they got.  She blamed it on Angel's inability to say 'no' to telemarketers and his love of ordering crap from catalogs.  "After dinner with Spike and Illyria."

Angel groaned.  "You're kidding."

"Illyria called me up asking how to cook a pot roast and since I had no clue I told her we were having steaks on the grill and there were enough for two more since you don't actually eat yours."

"Spike wanted pot roast?"

Buffy snickered and took Angel's hand to lead him to the couch so she could talk to him while she arranged the magazines and knick knacks.  "I think it was more she's been watching Leave it to Beaver again."

"You know I don't like him, right?"

"But, I do, and you'll do anything to make me happy, right?"  She leaned down and kissed him.  "Right?"

"Damn straight."  He wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her down so she was straddling his lap.  "When do they get here?"

"Half hour or so."

His hands traveled down her back to cup her butt.  "Plenty of time."

"Angel!"

"I have to make up for the demon goo, remember?" he teased her before kissing her, this time hungrily, his lips firm and demanding against hers.  Buffy decided to forego dusting the blinds and dug her fingers into his hair, kissing him back ferociously.  When she broke the kiss to gasp for breath, she saw his eyes go up to her hands, and snickered.

"Your hair will survive."

"I'll need at least ten minutes to fix it."

"Then get busy, bub."  As she spoke, she bent her head and nipped his earlobe, sending a shudder of desire through him and his hands wandering farther, tugging up her shirt to caress her naked back.

"Someone's not wearing a bra," Angel growled, letting his hands slide around the front to cup her free breasts.

Buffy hissed softly in pleasure and arched into his hands, smiling as his thumbs rubbed her nipples.  "You decide to forego it today?" she asked lightly as she caressed his pectoral muscles through his thin, black silk shirt.

"Quite the comedian today."  His fingers squeezed around her hardened nipples making her groan.

"I try."  Her voice rose an octave as his mouth found the erogenous spot at the base of her throat where so many years ago he'd bitten her.  As his tongue traced the scar, she felt herself grow hot and damp, and retaliated by biting his earlobe again.

Any use of her teeth always drove him crazy.

So, Buffy wasn't at all surprised to find herself on her back on the leather couch, her lover tugging her shorts and panties down her legs and her shirt over her head.  Supporting himself on one knee between her thighs, Angel quickly divested himself of his own shirt and reached for the buckle of his belt.

"Hurry."

He looked down into her liquid eyes, watched her lick her pink lips, and groaned as his cock throbbed behind the tight crotch of his pants.  He fumbled with the belt and the button and finally Buffy reached up and grabbed him by the waistband and pulled him down to her.  As they kissed, all teeth and tongues, she freed his cock and wrapped her fingers around it, pumping it until he growled and rocked hard against her.

Releasing his cock, she moved her hands around his hips and pulled down his trousers so she could caress the hard planes of his ass and urge him into her aching body.  He always aroused her so quickly, and she was slick with desire for him.

Still, Angel slid one hand between them and fingered her gently, rubbing her swollen flesh and aching clit, slipping a finger into her tight wet channel.  Buffy broke the kiss and wrapped one leg around him, flinging the other over the back of the couch.

"Now, please Angel," she begged, squirming beneath him and digging her nails into his ass.

His own desire at its peak, he saw no reason to delay any longer and slid into her eager body.

Buffy keened and arched off the couch as he filled her, stretched her, made her pulse and dampen and squeeze around him. They rocked, foreheads pressed together, hisses of breath escaping Buffy, breathless groans echoing from Angel.  Their bodies knew the other so well, and they both strove mindlessly towards pleasure.

As he thrust into his lover over and over, Angel continued to manipulate her clit, rubbing it until she shuddered, then barely touching it until she grabbed tighter onto him and growled at him.  He teased her even as the contraction of her muscles around his cock made his eyes roll back in his head.

When Buffy exploded into shudders beneath him and cried out his name, Angel kissed her deeply and plunged into her one last time.  His own orgasm spilled from him, making him tremble and groan and finally collapse on top of her.

Panting, they lay there for a few minutes, recovering their strength, then Angel lifted his head and gave her a goofy smile, and Buffy tugged him back down for a sweet kiss.

Then she shoved him off of her and rolled off the couch. Groaning, she popped up onto her feet and began gathering up her clothes.

"Can't we just stay here naked?" Angel groused.

"Sure, Spike would like that."

He gave her a mock glare and rose to fasten his pants as Buffy hurried to their bedroom to freshen up and dress.

"Go fire up the grill, honey," she yelled back at him.

Pulling his shirt over his head, Angel used the guest bath to wash up and, more importantly, fix his hair, then went out to their well-shaded patio to start the grill.  After getting the flame going, he headed back inside in time to hear the doorbell.

"Can you get that?" Buffy yelled again.

"Yeah, yeah," Angel muttered and dragged his feet on the way to the front door.

Illyria stood on the other side, blue hair and face looking rather cute with the white sundress scattered with blue daisies she wore. She held up a bowl of what looked like potato salad.  "I made this myself.  Spike tasted it and didn't die, so it should be edible." As she spoke, she brushed past him into the house.

"Where is Spike?"

"In the car.  He is momentarily indisposed.  I found it was necessary to fornicate with him in your driveway in order to get him to promise to behave tonight."

Angel rolled his eyes and shook his head as he peered outside. Spike sat slumped in the car, smoking a cigarette.   "Get out of the car, you idiot!"

Flipping him off, Spike slid bonelessly from the car, stubbed out his cigarette beneath his boot, and strolled through the late afternoon sunlight.  "'Lo, Peaches."

Refraining from smacking him, Angel slammed the door behind his former unruly childe and watched Buffy greet him.  There was a always a moment of jealousy when he saw them together, but then Angel would see just how devoted Spike was to Illyria, and relax.

And he also knew, as she smiled at him, that Buffy loved him completely.

"Come on, Spike.  Make yourself useful and help me grill some steaks to perfection."

Angel saw the surprised look in Spike's eyes, but then the younger man nodded and they both headed to the kitchen.

"I like mine rare."

"I'm not surprised."

Buffy listened to the two men bantering and couldn't help but smile.

"Did you know that the two of them used to fornicate on a daily basis?" Illyria asked.

Nearly choking on her own saliva, Buffy burst into giggles.

"Yes, it is a rather amusing image."

She just laughed harder.

The End

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