Buffy tossed her gym bag on the bed before kicking off her tennis shoes. Pulling the scrunchie out of her hair, she allowed the sweaty locks to fall in a tangle around her shoulders, before bending over and pulling off her socks. Straightening up she shrugged off her damp t-shirt and rolled down the waistband of her exercise pants, quickly leaving both as a pile on the floor. Padding over to her dresser Buffy opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of cotton panties. Opening another drawer she pulled out a shirt and a pair of shorts before closing both with a resounding thud.

She made a short trip to the bathroom, placing her clothes on the counter, and then shed her sports bra and panties. Efficiently she turned the bath knobs on, waving her hand under the water until satisfied with the temperature. Her muscles barely felt a twinge of fatigue, not even the burn of exertion to stiffen her movements slightly. She had trained brutally for hours yet she easily climbed into the tub. Her Watcher had been pleased even as he was surprised. Though both were dripping with sweat at the end, it was he who had to limp away. Flipping up the shower switch Buffy shivered at the first blast of icy water, the shock of the frigid liquid tightening up her muscles before relaxing under the sudden warmth.

Quickly lathering her body Buffy reflected on her session with Giles. Training had been tough, her Watcher instantly correcting even the most minor of flaws, but surprisingly enjoyable. They had concentrated on the three A's: agility, accuracy, and adaptability. All in all it was good. In spite of the amount of exertion, she had silently rejoiced in the comforting routine. Training with Giles validated who she was. Training to battle those she could was one of the only things she had left to be proud of.

Instantly she pushed such melancholy thoughts away. During the past few days she began to realize that in order to keep any semblance of sanity she had to cleanly separate her life into two parts: her day life and the other. Anything else would rapidly ensure her destruction---if her present actions hadn't damned her to a thousand hells already...

Massaging her scalp with fragrant strawberry-scented shampoo, Buffy sighed with pleasure. Giles had been of better humor. Not that he was fountain of bubbly joy, but there had been more than a few smiles here and there.

Of course, it was always when he thought she wasn't looking.

Idly she wondered at his change of mood as she rinsed her hair. Not that her Watcher didn't deserve it---he'd been under such a tremendous amount of strain, especially since the Acrymydion prophesy. Perhaps he was really pleased with her performance or perhaps it was something else.

Or rather it was someone else.

Perhaps he and Ms. Calendar were mending things back together. In a way she hoped so. Giles needed to have a connection to the living, instead of the silent companionship of leather, parchment, and ink. Squeezing the excess water out of her locks, she worked conditioner back into it.

Waiting for the conditioner to set, she began to wash her face with a cleansing scoop of facial product. Although Buffy couldn't entirely forgive Ms. Calendar's part in Angel's loss of his soul, she realized that to continue to strike out at her in face of such obvious remorse would be cruel.

Cruelty should only come from those who worshipped none but themselves.

An image of Angelus' ruthless smile crept onto the edges of her mind, disrupting her hard-fought peace. Leaning her head against the ivory tiles Buffy closed her eyes against a rush of primal desire. Her body ached fiercely, the shivers of her flesh a mute testimony to the strength of her unnatural desires.

It had been four days since she last saw him.

Three days since she had last thought she would die of longing.

Two days since he last summoned her.

One day since she had ignored it.

Perhaps it was the height of foolishness but she wasn't ready to actively live both parts of her life. During the weekend she had been totally immersed in Angelus. Her friends and her Watcher played no part in it all. Her mother had only had a tiny portion via dinner and even that led to Angelus.

Absently Buffy reached out and turned the knob up, sighing as the water significantly heated. Pushing off the tiles Buffy stepped back into the pelting heat. Lifting her face up she thought about the eventually joining. Surprisingly Angelus had not appeared to her in any way other than the note in her room.

Well, there was also the message he left her mother on Monday.

Trudging home from school, Buffy felt saddened. After her conversation/confrontation with Oz Xander had come in and shortly after that, so did Willow and Cordelia. Separately of course, but virtually within seconds after Xander. Giles was still in his office, the door firmly closed.

The group all sat at the table, idly making small talk but not really saying anything of importance. During a lull Buffy boldly plunged in and asked "So, what did you guys do Friday night?"

Pretending nonchalance she looked down at her nails while observing her friends from the fringe of her lashes. Willow started a little guiltily while Xander squeezed Cordelia's thigh. This caused an immediate yelp and an indignant "Why did you that? Really Xander!"

Turning to his girlfriend Xander pointedly said, "Sorry Cordy, it must have been my elbow. See what happens when you're mean?"

"No it wasn't---"

Looking meaningfully into her eyes he carefully spoke "Yes it was. I'm SORRY Cordelia. I didn't MEAN to HURT you on PURPOSE." A moment passed and then another before it finally seemed to dawn on her. Cordelia then breathed "Oh right...it's OKAY Xander. I won't say a word, I mean! I won't say another word about it." Beaming she bestowed Buffy a wide smile, only the corners of her eyes betraying her lie.

That and the fact that they SUCKED at lying...

...UNLIKE her...

Internally Buffy shook her head. They could not be more obvious. If she didn't already know, she would now. Lifting her head she caught Xander's flippant smile and his "Now what was that again Buffy?"

Casually she said "No, I was just asking what you guys did Friday. You know---just making conversation."

"Umm...well Buffy...we just kinda hung out...at home." Willow stammering was really pronounced when she lied. Did she think I wouldn't know that? Buffy wondered indignantly. The moment evaporated as quickly as it came. Instead a feeling of resignation crept inside. For whatever reason they had left her out on purpose. Angelus was right.

Nodding her head Buffy slipped back into her façade. "Sounds fun." Turning towards Cordelia she couldn't stop the imp that forced her ask "You too Cordelia?"

The brunette paused, clearly uncomfortable, before saying "I was with Xander."

Xander loudly cleared his throat before sitting forward.

Tossing him an annoyed look over her shoulder she complained "What?! Well we WERE." Looking back at Buffy's angelic face Cordelia leaned closer and confided "I decided on Friday that I could tolerate Xander being around me and stuff."

Casting a dark look at her Xander remarked "And I didn't have a say in it?"

"Why would you? Besides, we both know it was up to me."

Blandly Buffy asked, "So you two are going out now?"

Arching a well-sculpted brow Cordelia replied "Duh! Haven't you been listening today?" Not giving Buffy a chance to say a word she asked, "I'm surprised you're just saying something. I mean, you didn't even really say anything about it during lunch, except something lame about Xander wuvving me."

Dryly Buffy apologized "I'm sorry Cordelia. I just thought you'd want to be the one to tell me yourself."

She just found about their smooching-fests in the stacks last week, so just the shock of that made anything possible.

Silence fell upon the group, the tiny lies quietly gaining more and more strength, forcing a distance that had not existed before. A part of Buffy wanted to continue to probe them, much like a tongue probes a sore tooth despite the pain, but she abruptly ground such thoughts to a halt. The fact that they had obviously spoken together to keep it from her was enough. Even Oz's silence seemed to be more of a conscious decision versus his usual moments without words.

Did she hold any resentment towards them? Maybe just a tiny bit, but Buffy could not really blame them. With everything that had been going on lately---how could she? Besides, her lies were far more dangerous, entirely more destructive.

A liar she may now be, but she didn't have to enroll hypocrisy with the rest of her sins.

Giles shortly came out of his office then, looking out at the table, before making his way towards them. Scanning the group with his eyes he murmured a quick "Hullo" before abruptly dismissing all except Buffy.

This was met with a "Thank God!" by Cordelia, who immediately stood up and had her things gathered in a matter of .2 seconds.

Frowning slightly Willow queried "Are you sure Giles? I mean, there's still the Acrymydion prophecy. We haven't gotten very far with it, won't you need us?"

"Thank you Willow, but, umm, I'm at a point in research which I'm afraid, umm, leaves me alone."

"But you don't have to be alone!" she piped back. "I bet we can still help."

"If you say yes---does that mean me too? Because you said I could go home and you can't take that back."

Rolling his eyes Xander said "Cordy? Honey? Your sense of sharing humbles me, it really does."

Before they could erupt into another skirmish Giles said "Thank you Willow, thank you Xander, Cordelia---no you do not have to stay," glancing at a slouched Oz he finished with "I presume thanks are in order for you as well Oz."

Nodding sagely Oz merely said "Anytime."

"Consider this a day off children."

"Are you sure you don't mean me too?" Buffy asked hopefully.

Slanting her a look Giles murmured "No, not you too Buffy."

Pouting slightly she griped "Don't I get a day off too?"

"You've had two, which by the way, calls for extra training."

Outwardly she groaned but silently she felt the opposite. Training was just what she needed; however she could never appear too eager about it. It was funny how easily she could slip into being the unserious Slayer, especially since her life had taken a serious turn into the unknown.

Rubbing the back of his neck Xander stood up and voiced his mind. "Never thought I'd fight this, but are you sure?"

Confidently Giles assured them all with "Right now what Buffy needs is, umm, training without distractions. Tomorrow afternoon come back and I'll work you like dogs, if you'd like."

Saying their goodbyes to Buffy and her Watcher the four filed out, leaving the library in silence. Rubbing his hands Giles turned to Buffy and inquired, "Shall we start?"

Training had lasted for a couple of hours, her strength surprising them both. Buffy had not tired as easily, but her reflexes seemed a bit off. Giles took a particular worry towards this but Buffy quickly yawned, dramatically exclaiming "God! I'm tired. Maybe I need to get some more sleep" before turning a slight shade of pink.

She had not gotten much sleep in the last three days because she had been engaged in other activities.

Satisfied with her excuse Giles declared a step-up of the three A's. "Buffy you must be on your best performance regardless of external circumstance. We shall be excising your agility, accuracy, and adaptability all this week, and next if necessary."

Shrugging she replied "Sure thing" and eased into her next stance.

Shortly afterwards Buffy left the library, bag in hang, and began her walk home. She believed that her body was beginning to adjust to the changes of the weekend. Her uncanny hearing still seemed to appear at random, and her movements faltered only slightly now. Her overall strength had increased with only isolated moments of phenomenal increases. One such moment caused her to kick the punching bag clear across the room. Faced with her Watcher's shocked continence she had blithely stated, "The chain must have been weak to give out like that."

Everything seemed to be going back normal. Even her new beauty seemed to have been temporary. There was that moment during lunch, but nothing since. Everything was almost the same...

...almost...

Buffy only had to think about Angelus before feeling a tightening in her neck and a mournful cry in her blood. As long as she immediately thought of something else, she would be fine. However, he seemed to ruthlessly insinuate himself in every aspect of her life. The torture of believing him to be there at school this morning had almost been unbearable.

After what happened last night, how could she EVER want to see him? She should be sharpening a stake with his name on it! Blindly staring at the pavement before her Buffy felt so utterly confused. Nothing in life would have prepared her for this. She had been raped on a table by the creature wearing the face she loved. He had forced her to submit and she had.

Her submission continued throughout the night with his mocking soft laughter ringing in her ears....

Now she felt a part of herself missing. Could she forget that easily or was she that weak?

This frightening bond between them had to be the explanation behind her fierce yearning for Angelus. A tight, itchy sensation settled between her thighs while her heart began to cry. It was madness but Buffy wanted him. She wanted to touch him, smell him, sleep with him again. Her conscious became less involved the longer she was by herself.

By the time she reached home Buffy was fairly in an agitated condition. Her body raged, her blood boiled, and her insides felt bereft. He would see her tonight, he had to even if just to gloat over her dominion.

"Buffy!"

Pausing mid-step Buffy saw her mother come out from her office. "Yes?"

"Your tutor called---"

"He did?" she asked, a slight tremor rolling in her voice. Where would he want her to meet him...

Distractedly nodding her head Joyce scanned the file she was holding. A couple of moments went by before Buffy asked "Mom?"

Looking up Joyce murmured "Hmm? Oh! He just wanted me to let you know that he has to cancel tonight's tutoring session."

"Cancel?" she asked a bit weakly, her mind desperately trying to convince her instincts that this was a good thing.

Looking back down Joyce silently read her file only to quickly look up when Buffy asked with a slight shrill in her voice "Mom! Did he say WHY he had to cancel?"

"No. I guess something came up." Walking closer to the stairs her gaze rove over her daughter, noting the pallid pallor. "Are you alright honey? You look so pale!" Cocking her head to the side she mused, "I thought you would have been happy to get this---I didn't know you enjoyed your sessions so much."

Gathering control over herself Buffy forced a small smile and a shrug. "No, it's nothing big. It's just that I have a test this week and I thought he would be able to clear some stuff up for me."

"Oh. Okay. Well, I could help if you wanted---"

"No, it's okay Mom. I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"Are you sure?" Joyce attempted once more.

Confidently Buffy assured her mother with "I'll be fine, really. I've got most of it down anyways." Turning away she made her way quickly up the stairs. Fleeing into her room she quietly closed the door, tossed her bag on the floor, and threw herself onto the bed. Clutching a pillow to her face Buffy let out heart-wrenching sobs, despising herself for hurting so badly...

Turning off the water Buffy pushed back the curtain before stepping out of the shower. Feeling her toes sink into the soft bath mat she reached out for a freshly laundered towel. Bringing the towel to her nose she took a deep breath, enjoying the fragrant scent of fabric softener. Wrapping her body in the absorbent cotton she wrung out her hair before covering it with a smaller towel. Padding over to the sink she wiped the mirror until it was free of fog. Taking a look at herself Buffy wondered what would happen next.

She had not come to him.

Tuesday night. Buffy and her mother had eaten a light meal of salad and breadsticks, neither claming a very large appetite. While dinner had not necessarily been strained, mother and daughter definitely had their minds on other things. Talk had been minimal and the companionable silences long. After excusing herself Buffy announced she was going to bed to which Joyce had wished her a "Good night."

Feeling strangely alert Buffy doubted she would even be able to doze during the hour and a half it would take for her mother to go to bed. A nervous energy had entered her earlier in the evening; she found herself fidgeting often and trying to concentrate on her history text was next to impossible. Considering that she generally got five hours of sleep or less Buffy always tried to take advantage of the time before her mother went to bed. I guess tonight I'll have to make do with what I get she casually thought as she made her way up the steps.

Coming into her room she immediately felt he had been there. His dark presence, his primal scent had been everywhere. The air pulsed with him; the dangerous sensuality that was Angelus touched every corner of her room. It was strong yet instinctually she knew that it been well over an hour since he had come. Looking at her dresser she immediately saw a large ivory colored envelope.

Reaching out with a slightly shaky hand Buffy lifted the envelope off the dresser. It was heavily textured and obviously of expensive quality. In bold, beautifully flowing script the front merely had Slayer. Looking over her shoulder she saw the open door. Quickly striding across the room she closed it, not wanting her mother to catch her by surprise or even worse---seeing the envelope.

Opening the flap she slowly slid the folded letter out. Wariness battled with unwanted exhilaration she unfolded the thick paper.

I want you.
Now.
Angelus.

Quick and to the point. His letter left no doubt as to what he wanted. Easily sliding the beautiful paper back into its envelope, Buffy opened her closet and hid it with the rest of her gift. Drawing a shuddering breath her fist clenched tightly, the nails digging into the skin as she tried to thick logically.

The beautiful demon wanted her to fill his bed tonight. If she went, the pleasures to be found at his hands would undoubtedly be devastating in its exquisiteness. The apex between her thighs began to throb, already anticipating the hard flesh of Angelus' body.

Turning away from the closet she performed the movements of her nightly routine: arranging her weapons, slipping on her patrol clothes, and finally covering it all with a two-piece flannel pajama set. Her mother would often remark on how much Buffy enjoyed them---even in the middle of summer.

Settling into bed Buffy waited, knowing what she was going to do even if she didn't really want to. Several times she contemplated what mood Angelus would be in (charming rake or sadistic rogue?) when all too quickly it was time for her to go. Sliding out of bed Buffy tensely waited, wanting to make sure that her mother was truly asleep. The soft sounds of Joyce's snores reached her ears, assuring her that her mother would indeed be out until morning.

Leaving via window Buffy made her patrol, dusting a few newly risen but no pros. Along the way she decapitated a Biztinak demon and impaled a Forinthic troll but it was still a relatively uneventful night. Before she knew it, she was standing across the street from HIS building. Craning her neck back she saw that the top floor was completely engulfed in darkness. Crossing her arms she shivered slightly, knowing that he was so close.

Buffy had decided that she would not come to him; she knew she was not ready to and yet here she was. Her blood shrieked with demented joy while her body hummed with a woman's secret knowledge that her mate would claim her for his own. Softly chewing her bottom lip Buffy gazed up at the large building, wondering if he even knew she was out there.

Of course he does. Even if he doesn't know that I'm here in this spot, he knows it's only a matter of time. He controls me so completely now, why would he ever think that I'd have a will of my own?

She couldn't see him right now. The consequences be damned, she just wasn't ready to. Maybe if he had seen her last night, she wouldn't have had time to think about any other place but his bed, but now she just couldn't.

Resolutely Buffy turned on her heel and quickly made her way home, fighting the pain of her blood. Her neck throbbed angrily and each step that took her away from him hurt badly. Climbing into her window she halfway expected for Angelus to pull her back out by her ankles.

Silently and efficiently she shed her dirtied clothes and stuffed them into the hamper before crawling into bed. Burrowed under the covers she drew her knees up to her chest and waited for sleep to come.

She also waited for the fury of a vampire thwarted...

He had never come and Buffy still was not quite sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Shaking her thoughts away from the past few days Buffy quickly towel-dried her hair before twisting it into a high ponytail. Slipping on her underclothes she pulled out a bottle of lotion and thoroughly lathered her body. Pulling open a drawer she searched until she found a small jar of lip balm.

Coating her lips with the soothing crème Buffy felt a sudden tiredness. Yawning widely she glanced at the small digital clock on the counter and saw that she still had a couple of hours before dinner.

Leaving her clothes on the counter Buffy slid under the covers of her bed and closed her eyes. Within moments she slept the sleep of the dead.

She dreamed colorless dreams, the substance of her netherworld constantly shifting like gossamer smoke. She could have been asleep for hours or perhaps minutes, when the call for sleep became a mere whisper and the land of wakefulness beckoned strongly. Buffy lifted her arms in a stretch, enjoying the vitality her nap had given her when she opened her eyes and looked right into the ebony gaze of Angelus.

Shock caused a tiny gasp to escape her lips and her arms to immediately fall to her side. Angelus was here in her home. Her mother was downstairs. She was nearly naked. Angelus was HERE in her home.

"Happy to see me Buff? Did you miss me much?"

Inanely Buffy murmured "I-I was sleeping..."

"I know." An enraged light flared in his eyes as he softly said, "Did I ever tell you how cute you look when you sleep...bitch?"

Flinching Buffy began to recognize that Angelus was most dangerous when he spoke in a careful tone. There was no doubt that he was infuriated with her. It crossed her mind to say, "Don't call me a bitch" but wisely she kept quiet.

For now.

He was squatted down next to her bed, his chin resting comfortably on his crossed arms. In a glance Buffy realized with some surprise that he was dressed quite differently that his normal garb. No silk, no velvet, not even leather. He wore a thick iron-gray sweater, the neck of it much like a turtleneck. The sweater made him appear almost normal, he definitely did not have the look of a homicidal vampire.

"Why are you dressed like that?" she asked, her curiosity forcing its way out of her mouth.

"Disappointed darling?" he drawled.

Slowly she shook her head, her eyes riveted upon his face. Angelus looked devastatingly handsome. Each time she saw him it was as if she saw him for the first time. God! Immediately a rush of sinful desire twisted her insides. Would she ever be able to feel any differently?

"What are you doing here?"

His dark eyes merely continued to watch her. Uncomfortable beneath his non-blinking stare she lifted her chin and mutinously stated "I don't want you here."

The silver of Angel's ring flashed brightly as he moved a hand to grip her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Did you get my letter?" he casually asked.

Pulling her head back she attempted to move her chin when he brutally tightened the pressure. Meeting him squarely in the eye she said, "I did."

"You did?" Quiet for a moment he appeared to ponder her words. After another tension-filled moment he murmured "Mmm, so you DID get it." Cocking his head to the side he asked in a voice full of honeyed consideration, "Did you read it darling?"

"You know I did." A small bead of sweat formed between her breasts, starting a slow trickle down. He was toying with her again and again he had the advantage.

Condescendingly he replied, "No, I didn't. You see if KNEW you read it then I wouldn't be asking, now would I?"

Putting her hand on his she pried his fingers off her chin before moving back. Making sure that she was still covered by the blanket she sat with her back against the wall, an appropriate response since that was exactly how she felt.

"Geez Buff---why are you sitting so far away?" he innocently asked, his chin again propped on his crossed arms. Angelus' sweater looked so soft, Buffy idly wondered how it would feel to the touch.

In order to cover her nervousness she abruptly asked, "How did you get in?"

An evil smile crept across his face. "Why I walked through the door Miss Summers! How else would your history tutor come in?"

Glancing towards her closed bedroom door Buffy looked back towards Angelus. "My mom let you in?"

"No. I just kicked the door in, tore out your sweet mother's throat, before walking in here." Laughing nastily at the sudden paleness of Buffy's face he complained "Can't you take a joke Slayer?"

Dryly she replied in a bored tone "Ha. Ha. Funny or actually not."

Standing up he leisurely stretched. Buffy noted that he wasn't wearing a pair of jeans like she expected, but was instead wearing a pair of crisply ironed black slacks. Her gaze immediately met his when he stated "You should learn to take one Buff, since I take yours." Striding towards the door he quickly exited the room before coming back. Buffy could hear the hum of the ventilator in the hallway bathroom. Closing the door with a tiny click Angelus locked it before stalking towards the bed and her.

Leaning across the narrow bed he laid one hand on either side of her head, neatly trapping her within the walls of his arms. Staring into her wide eyes he softly snarled "You better be glad I'm a demon of humor Buff, because if for ONE moment I thought that you had deliberately ignored me---oh baby, I'd hate to be you."

"I couldn't come that night---" before she could finish her lie Buffy felt the sharp sting of a slap.

Dragging her out of the bed Angelus shook her once before ordering between gritted teeth "I thought we covered this on Sunday---don't you EVER fucking lie to me!"

Flinging her hair back out of her face Buffy recklessly said, "Fine. I didn't WANT to come to you---is that better? Is it better for you to hear that I didn't feel like dropping everything just because you wanted me to?"

Her face burned with the heat of his slap, pulsing in time with the rapid beat of her heart. Buffy could not explain it to herself but she had no control over her words. They seemed extremely silly in light of the fact that he could and would make her drop everything---generally it was only a matter of time.

Time...that's all.

Yet she knew that she needed to fight, in some way, no matter how furious it made him, or how useless in the end it was. She spent her time yearning for him, desiring him, but when he was in front of her all she did was bait him. Tonight was no different, or maybe it was---after all, she had had several days to build up her resistance.

Angelus was of the same mind.

Immediately Buffy brought her hand up and slapped Angelus' face. "Don't ever think you can hit me," she hissed.

In the master vampire's eyes, Buffy just threw down the gauntlet---one he could not ignore. The pleasure of rising up in the face of her defiance and breaking another piece of her would be too great.

Crushing her arm with his large hand he mused softly "Seems like my pet has grown claws. I leave you for a few days and now you think you can do as you please." His mirthless laughter elicited a shiver from Buffy. Releasing her arm he gently stroked her reddened cheek, growling softly when she flinched away. "Well, I won't make that mistake again. It's time to bring my bitch to heel."

"I'm not your bitch." Walking away from him she displayed a courage she did not feel. Bluffing seemed to be her forte lately, why should it be any different now? Besides, her mother was downstairs; Angelus wouldn't do anything to expose himself yet. "Get out of my room Angelus. I need to get dressed and you need to leave---"

The soft whisper of his steps reached her, stilling her in mid-step. She felt the solid strength of his body behind hers and his arms wrapped around her waist. Rigidly she stood there, wanting so badly to lean against the sweater that was as incredibly soft as it looked yet knowing him well enough to know the fury was coming most strongly in the form of gentleness.

She was right.

Leaning down Angelus mournfully whispered in Buffy's ear, "Oh baby, like I said---I'd hate to be you."

Before she could give thought much less words to his sorrowfully stated threat, Buffy felt herself flung against the floor. Angelus' body immediately covered hers, his thighs spreading her legs widely apart. Covering her mouth with his he boldly plundered, his tongue withdrawing and stabbing at will. Pinning her wrists down with one hand, he used the other to arrogantly travel along the length of her body.

Squirming under him Buffy felt equal parts terror and desire. The mark he placed on her throat throbbed unmercifully. She felt robbed of all breath, his tongue making its home within her and his fingers making play with her breasts. He pulled his mouth away only to heatedly lick and bite her throat. Buffy wildly arched her back as breathy little pants escaped from her mouth.

"Get off of me" she ordered in a strangled voice. She could barely make any sense of her own thoughts, the pleasure she felt was that great, but she knew that Angelus was only going to manipulate her. Physical ecstasy now---emotional agony later.

Playfully biting her jugular he wickedly smiled at the tiny start and her jagged moan. "C'mon Buff, don't say things you don't mean."

Taking several shaky breaths Buffy closed her eyes before saying "I do mean it. My mom is downstairs---"

"I know. That's what makes this so goddamn delicious." Leaning over her he waited until she opened her eyes. "To think I'm going to fuck Joyce's sweet little girl right above her head while she's draining angel-hair pasta in the kitchen---it just gets me harder."

A hard glint entered Buffy's lust glazed eyes. "You're disgusting."

Smiling the smile that never reached his eyes Angelus whispered "And you're even more so for letting me do it." Leaning back down he lazily licked her lower lip and became thrilled by the trembling beneath his tongue. No protestations passed her sweet lips, only the silent acceptance of his tongue.

Little whore.

He knew that she wouldn't come that night.

Anger had been his companion for hours after she left. By now she should be in school, if she didn't stay home out of self-pity. A hard smile twisted his lips as he imagined Buffy trying to sort out her feelings for her worthless friends.

Was he lying or were they?

Both?

Neither?

Idiot.

Didn't she realize that as long as she kept those people around her, they would always be her weakness? The Slayer was meant to walk alone, yet here she was actually trying to pretend that she was like all the other fools that breeded on the planet. Did she think that as long as she went to school and the mall that it would in the end make a difference?

If so, what the hell difference would it make anyways? She was and always would be a Slayer; the only creatures that would ever understand her difference were creatures like himself. Vampire that he was, he'd always despise the very breath she took, but hell---at least he understood what she was and made no illusions about it.

Humans on the other hand...

No matter how good their nauseating intentions might be, they were different from her and always would be. That fact alone would eventually drive a wedge between them. Did Buffy think that the other Slayers before her stood alone by choice? Humans would never truly understand her. If she was foolish enough to carry those liabilities along in her life, then he was willing enough to take advantage.

So what would she do---confront or not?

Being the confident creature that he was, Angelus knew that Buffy would not directly confront anyone, and if confronted herself she would lie. Lifting a glass of whiskey to his mouth Angelus took a healthy drink while letting his claw rip a line through the ridiculously expensive wallpaper that lined the hallway wall. She was going to try to keep her life separated, and if necessary, she would go to the grave with this secret.

If necessary? She WOULD be going to her grave. How could that ever be a question?

Casually strolling across the dulled marble floor Angelus made a mental note to have it cleaned. After his busy night he should be tired or at the very least bored, but sleep was not calling him this morning. The large cavern that he called home was oppressively quiet.

It only fed into his building anger.

Stopping in the middle of the room Angelus gave a great growl of displeasure. What was the problem? He, Angelus, had brought the Slayer down on her knees! Despite the agony in her little human heart he had made her admit that HE controlled her world, that HE dominated.

He had won but it wasn't enough!

Taking a large gulp of Irish whiskey Angelus' throat barely constricted. The usual burn made not the slightest effect on him; he was that angry. Shirtless he soundlessly strode towards the curtained windows, the casual black linen pants he wore hanging low on his hips. Reaching out with one finger he pushed the heavy material aside, disinterestedly looking at the tiny figures scurrying below. Would he call for her tonight?

Letting a disgusted grunt Angelus turned away from the window. She had just left and it wasn't like she even fucked him. Well, there WAS the whole rape-thing, but still...besides he had spent hours pleasuring her without demanding anything in return. AND she could be a bore with her burdensome guilt and her constant back talk.

Leaning his hip against the piano Angelus silently revised his last thoughts. If her guilt weren't such an issue where would be the pain? While annoying, her back talk did liven things a bit. She wasn't the problem, after all, she was just a piece. He was just pissed; he just needed an outlet for his anger that's all.

Preferably something warm and alive...

Pushing away from the piano Angelus felt edgy. Prowling in the cavernous living area he felt her imprint everywhere. On the couch, the stairs, the table...

...especially the table...

Several seconds went by as he murderously stared at the impressively carved table. Moments passed as he focused his gaze on one section of it, on one portion at the end of it. Time passed until it was minutes that marked the period as he fixedly stared at the well-worn, rich, dark wood.

Muttering a violent oath Angelus flung the heavy crystal glass he held in his hand at the wall. Raking a hand in his hair he meanly stared at the imposing yet empty table. Pictures of a deliciously naked Slayer burned into his mind. Her fear, her exquisite agony---just the memories were enough to make him hungry again. It had been such a satisfying meal for his ego that he could have purred aloud.

If by chance that Angelus would have purred, it would have stopped midway.

The memories broadened, allowing the lascivious and vacant stares to feast over her flesh. Angelus saw them all clearly; he saw each hard-on, each wet cunt.

Clenching his jaw tightly he continued to stare at the table. He had his reasons, reasons that went far beyond what Buffy understood. The waiter was just a little device that happened to work in his favor, but he was far from being the motivation behind their show.

He did not regret what he did so why was he SO PISSED?

Striding over to the physical alter of Buffy's despoilment Angelus lightly touched the surface of where she had been laid. Blackly staring down at the well-worn wood he remembered the feeling of her little pussy squeezing in an effort to get him out. He remembered the challenge of getting her slack limbs to respond to him despite the humiliation and utter betrayal.

If only it was left at that...

Taking his hand away Angelus left and strode over to his couch---the same couch he fucked Buffy on while she was on her hands and knees. Leaning his head back he seemingly studied the painted mural on his ceiling, intently scanning each delicate line, each bold stroke of color. He was not studying it at all---instead he was studying himself.

Delving deeply in her mouth Angelus devoured Buffy's pretty moans while playing with her breasts. Pulling her mouth away she arched even more into his body before greedily taking his mouth again, her tongue boldly plunging into the cool depths. When she shuddered beneath him, Angelus knew it was from pure ecstasy.

Male triumph burned brightly in his eyes.

Their kisses grew less frantic as his became more calculated. Buffy's nipples tightened painfully under the slight pressure of Angelus' long fingers. Raising himself up he stared down into her face, noting the luster of her eyes and the stain of blush forming across her chest.

Buffy's lids drifted open as her mouth felt bereft. Her body was no longer her own and her blood did not pump to keep her alive; it existed only to please him. How she hated that! "What---" coughing she tried to get air into her lungs in an effort to dispel her lightheadedness. She couldn't think when he made her feel like this. "What will my mom think if you don't come down soon?"

"I don't care what she thinks."

"Yes you do."

A nasty smirk twisted his mouth as he stated, "You overestimate how much I give a shit Slayer."

Softly she charged, "You do give a shit Angelus. Playing my tutor makes it just another game to you, you don't want to blow it." Pausing she allowed her words to sink in before asking, "So again, what will she think if you don't come down soon?"

An assessing expression crossed his face before sliding away behind the pleasant and eternal handsome façade. "Perceptive, aren't you? And here I thought the dumb blonde act wasn't one." Deliberately he pinched one nipple cruelly, watching in satisfaction when Buffy's brow wrinkled and a small cry passed through her trembling lips. "Are you scared of getting caught Buff?"

Arching away from him Buffy stiffly said, "I'm not scared."

"Not even a little?"

They both knew that it wasn't just about Joyce any longer. Squarely meeting his eyes Buffy evenly stated, "No. This is my house Angelus, mine. Last time I didn't have home court advantage. This time I do."

"So why are you beneath me?" he taunted while pinching the same nipple again with such calculated force.

Gasping Buffy spoke for her hidden desire without thought "Because I like it." As soon as the words were out she groaned from the humiliation. Tears pricked her eyes because they were true. She'd give her life to protect the world, that much would never change, but she'd selfishly sacrifice the same life for this addictively emotional situation.

Angelus' eyes darkened with violent lust. He had not even counted on her admitting this. Not interested in any more words his already hard cock stiffened even further. Swooping down his mouth covered her abused nipple, quickly wetting the cotton of her bra and soothing the pain with pleasure.

She liked it. Angelus could feel the siren call of addiction beckoning him with such sweet lyrics. He would make her sing again and again before the night was over. Feeling her relax he quickly pinched the other nipple and smiled when her body became rigid again. Kissing her small breast with his mouth, Angelus created a rhythm of intense pain and extreme pleasure until he was sure that the girl beneath no longer knew the difference between the two.

Angelus loved control. A creature that supposedly did not know how to feel human emotions could feel the love of control. Everything in his universe had to be directed by his hand. Beyond being a man that needed such power, he was a killer by nature. Regardless of wearing a human body or carrying a demon's face, Angelus walked the narrow path between the instinctual animal and civilized beast. There was no room for self-doubt.

Self-doubt equaled weakness.

Weakness equaled loss of power.

Loss of power equaled the end of his existence.

Now more the ever, the Slayer could lead to all three.

Now where the hell did that come from? Angelus felt an agitation settle itself within his body. He felt still restless, edgy, and most of all---PISSED! Against his will his eyes were drawn to the table across the room again.

He fucked Buffy on the table, so what?

Even if he didn't have his reasons, just the pure motivation that he could do it would have driven him.

Self-doubt ate away at him, it rankled, it stung, it dully sawed away at his reasons. He was a possessive man by nature and had never liked to share by sight or sound, but he would do as he saw fit. If the situation called for every acquaintance to fuck his mistress raw---so be it.

As a matter of fact, it had happened a time or two.

Angelus' smooth brow wrinkled as he rethought it. Although it had happened, it always happened once he was through with the particular offending female. It NEVER happened while he was still exploring the charms of his newest lady.

Until now.

GODDAMN IT!

Angelus slowly burned with fury as he recalled the myriad creatures feasting upon the delicate limbs of Buffy. At the time he had enjoyed her lesson in humiliation thoroughly. It had been a rush of nostalgia for a time long gone. It was as if he were an older, wiser man reliving his reckless youth but in moderation. A century ago he would have done far more to the sweet young Slayer. Beyond taking her on the table, he probably would have fucked in the ass for good measure, and then taken her into his room and fucked her in all three holes.

Regardless of his tamed inclinations, Buffy Summers never had a chance last night. He had known she would push him too far. In fact he had goaded her to it from the moment she had stepped into the room. He had easily felt the insecurity and plain gaucheness that had radiated in her every step. Knowing she would see him with Lina had only been the cherry on top.

The fact that Lina had not wanted to play part of his game hadn't bothered him in the least---she had no choice against his will. It had been going so beautifully, every thread woven in place to form a tapestry of his own world. Buffy had reacted just as he had expected until the final moments before the table.

Rage swirled blackly around him as the unwanted truth began to form in his mind. Angelus felt the jealousy burn deeply in his gut. His cool logic crumbled away beneath his hot passions. He did not like sharing the sight of HIS woman's body with the rest of the world. It did not matter that he planned on killing Buffy or the fact that he hated the very sight of her many times, she still belonged to him.

Angelus had never been good at sharing, not as a human, and certainly not as a vampire.

"Mine" he growled against her breast.

Thrashing beneath him Buffy murmured nonsensical words. Her body was tautly stretched unto the breaking point. She did like it. She more than liked it, she was obsessed with feeling this way. He hurt her badly, he inflicted such cruelties upon her, yet she was desperate to be with him. He had raped her in front of countless strangers! Why did she feel this way? What was wrong with her?

This bond was more shameful than the physical one between them.

"MINE" he demanded angrily before sucking her nipple into his mouth.

Feverishly she murmured "I hate you...hate you so much...I don't WANT to want you..."

An evil smile slowly crossed Angelus' face right before he morphed. His fangs easily slid into the soft skin just as his large hand covered her trembling mouth. Buffy let out a long muffled scream just as her body convulsed in orgasm. She undulated beneath him, her heart and body riotous in fulfillment, while her lower body pulsed in time to the beat of her blood.

Greedily drinking the rich, sweet outpouring of his lover Angelus released her mouth just to cover it with his own. Saliva and crimson liquid mated as Buffy gripped his shoulders tightly. While crushed against his broad chest she felt the tingling of power course through her veins...

"Mine" he ruthlessly growled.

"Yours" she brokenly murmured before hoarsely saying, "You're mine too..."

For the second time that night Angelus was shocked into silence.

It could be argued that he shared Druscilla now yet he never saw it that way.

She had strongly captivated his fickle attentions, true. It was also true that her madness had provided a new spin on eternal life, making it so easy to satisfy his sadistic desires with such a willing consort.

But eventually the fascination that forced him to take her had faded.

While sexually she had excited him longer than most, it too had faded. After tiring of Druscilla he had magnanimously freed her to find her own mate. Once done, what did he care who she slept with?

The point was this: not a single creature even dared brush against her skirts while she had belonged to him.

The fact that he still slept with her after regaining control was only to infuriate Spike. Yet, if honesty were required of him, he could never say that he didn't enjoy her delightful skills---after all, he himself had taught her. But if truth were to be demanded of him again, if Spike weren't around, he would not fuck her.

Spike. That was yet another problem of his.

Shifting on the couch Angelus clenched his jaw tightly. The peroxide cripple was an irksome hangnail, an irritating speck in his eye---an insurrecting pain in his ass. It was obviously clear who had ordered those four vampires to attack Buffy the other night. Once confronted, Spike had smoothly and insolently puked out denials of any such orders.

Angelus had not been convinced and Spike knew it.

Spike also knew that he never, ever issued out idle threats just to hear his own Americanized voice so what was he about? Angelus could very well rip out every bone of his body with none to stop him, least of all Spike himself, so again, what was he about?

Insurrection.

Angelus did not underestimate the younger male's intelligence nor did he underestimate his hunger for power. Spike was sending out conflicting orders, blatantly trying to undermine his position in the clan.

He would fail.

It would have been a simple matter to crucify the cocksucker out in the garden and let him burn. As efficient as that would have been, allowing Spike to play underground rebel would serve Angelus a greater purpose. It would eventually flush out all those in league with him.

Then it would be time to play. Druscilla was always complaining that he never took an interest in her precious garden, how would she like it if he planted a whole field of crucified vampires alongside her dead roses?

So for now, Angelus let him escape death.

Merely death.

Punishment, however, had been an entirely different story.

Angelus had taken Spike's denials with grace and then pleasantly asked for Druscilla to come to him. She had been in a subdued mood, humming softly by the blackened fireplace. Normally she would have flung herself at him, inanely chattering about Mrs. Edith, yet the one glance she had spared him had been vacant. Woodenly she had walked towards him, her eyes trained on the ribbons of her black slippers.

One fleeting look at the traitor's suddenly paler face had thrilled him with malicious delight. Angelus had softly asked the brunette vampiress to shed her emerald velvet dress. Without hesitation Druscilla had obeyed him, even though she wouldn't look at him. Angelus had taken this as a sign of Spike's guilt.

As for Druscilla, she had been naughty and naughty girls had to be punished.

For several moments he had allowed his gaze to travel along the lines of her slender body, resting heavily on the thick, dark bush at the apex of her thighs.

Slanting a glance over her shoulder Angelus had noticed the reaction of the other vampire. Spike had obviously steeled himself to witness her willing copulation with himself, yet he had steeled himself for the wrong thing.

Angelus never touched her, five lowly minions had instead. The sickness on Spike's face had been pleasurable indeed.

Angelus did not like her declaration. It made him feel possessed, something he had never felt before. Could she really have meant that? Did that mean that she felt she owned him? Frowning he pushed it all away. She could feel whatever the hell she wanted, that in itself would not make it true.

He was not Angel. She did not control him.

Fisting his hands into her hair Angelus held her head still while he hungrily tasted all that she had to give.

Panting brokenly between voracious kisses and gulps of air Buffy pulled her head back and stared at the ceiling while Angelus ran his lips up and down the column of her neck. So intently she peered up at it that it appeared as if she were expecting to see all the answers of her world. The only answer she wanted was what was happening.

"How can this be?" she softly asked.

"What?" he impatiently snarled.

"This thing...this feeling." Moving her head she studied his dark hair, her fingers suddenly finding themselves stroking the nape of his neck. "We're bonded somehow."

"So" he rudely stated, stilling his mouth as he felt her fingers touch his neck.

Removing her fingers she mutinously stated, "I don't want to be bonded to you."

"Ditto." Her anger was something he liked much better than her tenderness. Things lacked clarity when their roles lost meaning.

Yet the problem at hand now was Buffy. He did not like this feeling of uncertainty. Most of all, he despised the sickness growing in his brain. Jealousy stained his every thought. Shifting his body Angelus moved so that he was facing the wall above his fireplace. His eyes roved over all the paintings, the bestial jealousy finding no succor in the art. They only made him remember that HE had been the one to expose her to the masses.

With a low growl he flung himself off his couch and stalked towards his bedroom, refusing to wallow in this uncertainty any longer.

He would have to kill them. All those that had watched his stirring performance with unabashed lust would have to die.

Pushing open the heavy doors with one fist Angelus refused to look at his mammoth bed. Instead he took immense joy at imagining the slow and bloody deaths taking place in his mind. Even if he had to be up to his neck in gore, he would willingly do it.

Flopping himself into one of the high-backed chairs Angelus stroked his chin, a chilling light taking possession of his dark gaze. Each one would have their eyes taken out, one at a time, before being forced to eat them. And that would only be the beginning. Evilly smiling Angelus felt a moment of restored humor before sanity returned.

What madness was he contemplating?

Many powerful factions had been present that night and no matter how powerful he himself was, one vampire was not enough when compared to twenty species united against himself. And that was exactly what would happen if he even attempted to eradicate all the witnesses to his own debauchery. His business dealings could not suffer because of this.

He could not allow that to happen.

Fighting for control of his own devil's temper Angelus focused on the bed. Buffy was the Slayer. The Slayer was simply his newest whore. He had displayed her to cement his own power in the minds of any who doubted. All knew who she was and now they knew where he stood. He had quickly reestablished his place among the other world nobility with a few quick strokes. Angelus would put the rest out of his mind. From now on he would simply keep the Slayer to himself until the night he snapped her neck.

To hell with the rest of it.

The knot in Angelus' stomach did not lessen and the pent-up fury could not escape. No woman was worth this much aggravation, especially not a Slayer.

Self-doubt led to weakness.

Weakness led to loss of power.

Loss of power led to the end of his existence.

After one phone-call that night had led him to the Cavern where he promptly fed and fucked three brunette college co-eds. With quick hard thrusts he had found a tawdry short-lived pleasure. One was no different than the other, just the way he liked it, but then they were too different from what he wanted. Dismissing each one with his vampire mind-control thing, he had prowled the club waiting for something.

At the time he didn't realize exactly what he was looking for, only that he knew an intense dissatisfaction that would not go away. At one point he felt a sensation in the back of his neck, which had caused him to look across the room. Abruptly he dismissed the girl, vaguely angered again. Dispassionately he acknowledged that the dark-haired girl was incredibly lovely but not for him tonight.

After several drinks Angelus had realized that what he needed was a blonde. Once making his decision he searched until he found a petite girl with large blue eyes. While they weren't hazel, they were still enchanting nonetheless...

After dancing a dance or two he had taken her into the darkened back hallways where he had taken the other ones. She had been lustfully gazing into his face, her small hands grasping him at will. Reaching down he had slowly pulled her shirt up when all of a sudden he stopped cold.

He couldn't bring himself to have the appetite for her. T

That caused him to abruptly leave the club and Sunnydale. Driving for hours he made his way down to L.A. and quickly found several victims to satisfy his hunger.

Each one had been a blond.

The satisfaction of having hot human blood fill his mouth had been indescribable. He felt as if he were excising Buffy from his being with each body that hit the ground. The fact that all three would eventually join the ranks of the undead only fed the satisfaction until he looked at each face.

No matter the hair color and no matter the similarities, they were not her.

GODDAMN FUCKING BITCH!

It had taken the rest of that night and the next day for Angelus to feel enough control of himself to leave. It had taken him that long to convince himself that the madness had never permeated his every thought and that he had never lost control. In his mind he had taken a much-needed trip to L.A. in order to satisfy his primal instincts. His personal no-kill policy in Sunnydale had been too much of a bore and now he was ready to go back.

The fact that he had been able to call the Summers' residence during the height of his discomfort yet still feel full control of his passions proved it. The fact that he had known it would prick Buffy into uncontrollable sadness merely validated his actions. If he had been lucent enough to play with the Slayer's mind, he was well enough to go back to Sunnydale.

Sending Buffy her summons had been a study in observation. Angelus had bet that she wouldn't show and he was right. He had sensed her outside and without looking away from the sheet music he knew she was staring up at the building. In only a few moments she was gone. Bending over the piano keys he had let his fingers fly in a frenzy, the music dark and triumphant. The pleasure she could have given him that night would be fleeting. What Angelus wanted now from her was her virginal pain.

He wanted to introduce her to a new level of sensation.

Quite simply he wanted to debauch her.

The only way to do that was if she was building her walls again. Let her think she could defy him, it would only prove to them both that he held the control, not she. If Angelus were a praying man he would get down on his knees and beg for her defiance. Buffy's pointless protests would serve the ultimate purpose---they would make the punishment all the more sweeter...

The raging lust between them suddenly became extinguished. Her mutinous declaration paved the way for one of the subjects that had been left unspoken. "We haven't talked about what happened Saturday morning", Buffy abruptly stated.

"Nothing to talk about", Angelus merely grunted, his mouth leaning forward to recapture Buffy's lips.

"Has it ever happened before?" she asked while artfully avoiding his forceful caress.

"What?" he impatiently snarled at being denied.

"This bonding, or whatever it is---has it happened before?"

"Don't have a clue Buff, nor do I care enough to get one" he replied, heavy boredom obvious in his tone.

"How can you not care?" Seeing he was going to say something snide Buffy clarified, "Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"That the Slayer wants my cock all the time? Where's the curiosity in that?"

Rolling her eyes Buffy frowned at him, impatience clearly moving the lines of her face. "God! Could you be any more full of yourself?" Not waiting for an answer she wiggled from underneath him until she was able to rest on one of her elbows.

Silently they stared at each other in the darkness, the lack of light not dimming either one's vision. Angelus' possession of the demon did nothing to deny the very real fear that all men, regardless of species, felt: she wanted to talk.

What the FUCK for?

Disgruntled he was tempted to leave and go back downstairs. Joyce thought him still suffering the effects of a stomach virus, therefore she discreetly directed him to the upstairs bathroom. Crude method, true, but it gave him the opportunity to disguise his pallid color with the excuse of illness and most importantly: it gave him the wicked opportunity to catch Buffy off guard.

Now she wanted to talk.

Studing her young, softly rounded face Angelus came to the conclusion that he absolutely hated this aspect of the Slayer. Just when he thought he knew exactly where she was emotionally, she'd completely catch him off guard. Who did she think he was---her therapist? She had no reason to ever think she could confide her thoughts and feelings to him.

Buffy appeared to be mulling over her own mental reasonings, a small frown knitting itself between her slender brows. She inhaled and exhaled once, twice, before finally opening her mouth. Returning back to her original train of thought she said, "It doesn't seem physically possible for me to have Vampire and Slayer blood without one losing."

Staring down into her face Angelus felt the stirrings of strong dislike. Buffy actually sounded...normal? Was that the word? She also sounded very accepting of the blood fact. He did not want her accepting so quickly. She should be filled with unbearable shame, disbelief, agony! Had he done his work too well?

Where was the usual hostility? Where was the delicious struggle between her fear and her pride?

There she lay, calmly discussing the event that had binded her to him.

Where was the mutiny?

His gaze snaked down to her hand. She was absently stroking his forearm, the touch quite pleasant and soothing. Angelus realized in disdain that his shoulders had begun to relax under her gentle touch. Only his shoulders though. The rest of him stiffened, wanting to take pleasure in her soft human body.

Angelus had vulgar images of Buffy open and wanting. He saw her on her back, legs spread widely while her hands were spreading herself even wider. He saw her offering her breasts to his mouth while her lower body undulated tirelessly upon him.

He saw her shamelessly begging him to take her in any hole that pleased him.

Such thoughts of his human lover pleased Angelus greatly.

Buffy's hand stopped its movements. Cautiously looking up at him she clearly saw the naked lust twist his features into a mask of passion. Her small mouth opened, a near breathless pant reaching his ears. The mortal coils of her blood quickened, the sweet ambrosia beginning to beat in a seductive call that only his ruthless kiss could answer.

A smirk lifted his lips and a devil's gleam brightened his eyes. Proof positive---as if he needed it. Buffy could not only feel his own arousal, she was helpless against responding to it. This young girl was far more his than she ever could be for Angel.

Their bond was permanent, this Angelus knew by instinct. He never could understand why he had been able to feel her weeks before their physical joining and why she had felt nothing. Only after the mysteries of Buffy's encounter with silent Death did he begin to understand.

Blood.

The answer to all his questions came back to one thing---blood. His kind's survival depended on it; there could be no surprise that other attachments beyond the hunger could be made with that natural yet mysterious elixir.

Sifting through despised memory Angelus came to the conclusion that when his other half took Buffy's virginity a connection had been made. The tiny spillage of her maiden's gift must have entered his body through his penis and from there worked its way through his system.

The exchange had been one way though. Buffy had not been able to feel him in the matter that he had felt her.

Yet there are always methods that go far beyond the flesh.

Angelus was the master of the impossible and conqueror of the probable. It did not just take blood to bind Buffy to him, it took the testing of passions and obsessions to accomplish the profane. Angelus had known that she could not help but think of him, evil depraved creature that he was or not.

And this already before their bonding.

Poor little Slayer he unrepentedly thought with much amusement. From the moment Angel had fled his mortal coils and he had returned to his rightful place she was already so very lost, and so very alone, with none to protect her from him.

Now only that possessive mistress Death could sever the supernatural ties between them. Unfortunately for this foolish creature, it only worked one way. He was the stronger one. He was the dominant, she was the submissive. The only danger he faced would be becoming slightly attached to the taste of her. No matter. There were millions of girls out there. He would never be binded to her, regardless if he drained her whole.

Angelus felt a strong fascination to see just how much had they changed, and how much more they would continue to do so. Her blood was the key. Each time he drank from her, the finer his skills became. When he shared his thirst with her, when she took her own blood from his lips, he could feel her body changing as well.

He was beginning to understand it, mostly by observation. While all the pieces had yet to fit, he knew it wouldn't be long. What he did not want, however, was Buffy to completely understand this new aspect of herself. She'd only know what he wanted her to know.

Besides, where could she go? She couldn't very well ask her Watcher and he doubted that there would be any mention of her condition in the Brit's impressive library.

If any before had undergone the evil that had occurred to Buffy, not only would it have been mentioned, it would have been legend amongst vampires. That legend would then have spurred countless of his kind to hunt the huntress in order to create a trophy.

No, Buffy was alone again in this. She only had himself, her creator to come to.

Knowledge always ensured power and as long as he recognized what was happening, he would have the ability to fight it---if necessary.

Angelus did not want Buffy to have the same weapons.

In the end, HE would be the one to ruthlessly cut the mythical thread of gold and she would be the one destroyed.

Angelus had not spent his time merely catering to his own lusts. The question of the Slayer's altered chemistry slyly plagued him. She was not vampire but she did seem to have the submissive role of one sired by him.

Yet she was different.

Wrapping a thirsty cotton towel around his lean hips Angelus padded over to the fish pond. Uncapping the cannister of food he held it up and gave it three definite shakes. Watching the slippery creatures gracefully circle about and rapidly devour their supper he remembered her behavior in this very room.

After brutally fucking her he had dismissed her in an equally brutal and calculating fashion. He had despised her in that moment. Within seconds he had felt her blood changing him, granting him physical euphoria as his dead cells quickened with vitality. Without testing it he had known that his strength had increased ten-fold.

Immediately after taking his pleasure of her delectable body he had wanted to taste her again. When she had pridefully walked away he had watched her, eagerly savoring the emotions of pain and rejection that she carefully kept hidden.

Despite the gushing water and the cooling of his flesh Angelus had known intense hunger. His mouth had opened to accommodate the lengthening of his fangs while his body became taut in anticipation of her carnal touch.

For a split-second he had almost called Buffy back before regaining the supreme control he prided himself on.

In that tiny fraction of a moment, however, he hated what he had wrought.

"I hate it!" she suddenly hissed in frustration. Her fingers thoughtlessly turned into little claws that dug into his arm. Fixedly staring ahead Buffy never gave it a moment's pause.

Ah, there it was. Good. Avidly Angelus watched her, drinking in all of the darker emotions that swirled about her golden head.

Turning feverishly bright eyes towards him she swore, "This can't be permanant! I will not accept that this is---"

"What?" He tauntingly broke in. "You won't accept that this is the way it is?" His low laugh sent shivers down Buffy's spine. "It's permanant Slayer." How he loved the way she cringed at that! Leaning down he promised, "It's all so very binding darling."

"You just said you didn't know anything about it", she challenged, an edge of denial shading her voice.

"I don't have to know about you in particular, I just have to know about what my blood can do."

"You have no blood" she bluntly stated.

"What?" he silkily asked, anger edging his cool reason.

"YOU have NO blood. You steal it---like a disgusting parasite. You're nothing more than a tick or a leach." A foreign calculating look entered her eyes when she realized just how deep her barb hit. "That's it", she sighed. "You're nothing more than a disgusting, blood-sucking leach."

Angelus' eyes slitted as a malicious intent possessed him. Buffy would pay dearly for that remark. The price of her foolishness would undoubtedly cost her more of her delicious blood.

Angelus chose his clothes with much care. Lightly fingering the rows of shirts he by-passed all the silks, velvets, and linen. Whistling an Irish folksong his fingers closed upon the thick sweater, neatly shedding it from its oak hanger. Walking over to the opposite side of his enormous closet Angelus allowed his finger to lovingly trace the edge of a particularly fine pair of leather pants.

He could very well imagine the shock on dear Mrs. Summer's face! How could she allow such a man near her daughter---a tutor no less! Afterall, a man who could wear pants like these should be tutoring her...

Smirking slightly he continued on until he found a freshly laundered pair of ebony slacks. Pulling them toward him he allowed his gaze to study every aspect until finally deeming them worthy. Placing both items on the bench he strode a few paces to the many-drawered compartment in the back of the closet. Sliding open one drawer he selected a pristine white athletic under-shirt, smiling slightly at its popular name of wife-beater. How droll. He made quick work of selecting barely-worn underwear and a brand-new pair of trouser socks.

While dressing himself he pondered on exactly what role he should assume tonight. Being invited to dinner by the Slayer's mother was quite the thing; it was filled with so many possibilites. Buffy would suffer the sting of his bite tonight, there could be no doubt, the only question being: force or seduction?

Removing the wooden shoe-horns Angelus slid his feet into the finely-stitched leather shoes. Flexing his toes he acknowledged that he much preferred boots, urban or otherwise. A flash of ancient memory flared into his brain.

It was a vision of a child-Angel streaking mud across the freshly-washed foyer in his brand-new riding boots, oblivious to the slightly shrill voice of his mother chastising him on skipping his lessons to ride that 'smelly beast' again.

Shaking his head Angelus, distantly angry, wondered where that came from. Those were memories that belonged to a different person in a different life. They had no bearings upon him.

Riding boots did, however, bring the thought of horses to mind. His humor restored Angelus allowed his mind to continue. The thought of horses brought the thought of leather to mind. The thought of leather brought the thought of riding crops to mind. The thought of riding crops brought the thought of a topless Slayer to mind---along with the beautiful crimson lines that he would soon place there.

Striding out of the closet Angelus soon exited his chamber with thoughts of Buffy on his mind.

"You have a tendency for bringing trouble on your head, did you know that?" he asked conversationally.

"Trouble on my head? What is that? Another one of your lame Euro-expressions?" Buffy caustically commented.

The desire to strike her was so strong that Angelus nearly went cross-eyed from it. Her mouth. How he hated that smart-assed mouth! She may have vampire blood in her, and it may push her submissiveness along in regards to himself, but it had done nothing to sweeten that acidic tongue.

The only time he had her stumbling, whining, or magnificently miserable in her grief was if he had her on her back.

Lowering his brows over suddenly calculating eyes Angelus laughed suddenly. The sound of his mirth sent a pained awareness through Buffy's system. How close to Angel's laugh it was! It was close but merely on the surface, just as it was physically. Angelus' laugh contained a hidden meaness, a smug sense of knowledge, as if he were privy to a jest that excluded everyone.

Arching a brow Angelus glanced at the door. Fluidly standing up he easily lifted Buffy into his arms. When she began to struggle he hushed her with, "Quiet darling. Mommy's on her way to check on us both. You don't want her to see you with my cock shoved in your mouth, do you?"

Ripping back the covers with one hand he efficiently laid her down, ignoring the wide questioning eyes that followed him. Smoothing the covers over her he then made short work with her hair, touseling it until it soon looked like sleep-hair. Eying the door Buffy's ears strained for the creak of the stairs yet heard nothing. "How do you know she's coming?"

"Because Buff---I can hear her."

Slanting him a disgruntled glare Buffy informed him that, "My hearing is just as good as yours, if not better."

Speaking to her as if she were a grumpy child he admonished, "Then use it."

Buffy strained again, trying to hear her mother. It just didn't make sense! How could he hear her and she couldn't? Her hearing appeared to be back to normal, then why couldn't she---Wait! It flowed into her, like a surge of electricity. She could hear her mother's steps clearly, the sound of her shoes making a low-pitched squeal against the linoleum.

She was in the kitchen and she was making her way towards the stairwell.

Looking up she locked onto Angelus' face. He was watching her, a curious light in his usually fathomless eyes. "All you have to do is use it Buff."

"What?" she whispered.

He stood there silently for a moment, before his eyes slid to the door. "Why the bond Miss Summers! What else would I be talking of?"

Before she could say anything else Buffy heard her mother reach the landing. Lifting her panicked face to him she was about to mouth out "Hide!" when she remembered that Angelus was fast enough to run right past her mother without her knowing it.

They both could hear her mother reach the top of the stairs and pause. She slowly walked past Buffy's closed door before abruptly stopping. Angelus was still at Buffy's bedside when Joyce's steps started towards the closed door.

Buffy's eyes flew to Angelus'; she could easily see the thrill swimming in the dark depths. He enjoyed taking things to the limit, regardless of how trivial it might be. As the door knob turned he stood there, daring them to be caught.

Just before Joyce could realize that the door was locked Angelus leaned down and gave Buffy a mocking kiss across her foreheard, his cool lips searing her skin.

Immediately she felt a wave of lust so strong that her insides clenched from it.

Joyce never noticed that the door had been locked against her, nor did she see the shadow that flew past her, the darkness of the room disguising all that might have seemed unnatural. Only Buffy saw him standing in the doorway, a smirk lifting the corner of his well-shaped mouth.

He could smell her desire and she knew it.

With a last lingering look Angelus disappeared from sight, only the inaudible click of the hallway bathroom alerting Buffy to where he had gone to.

"Buffy! What are you doing asleep?" Joyce lightly chided her daughter.

Feigning the disorientedness of sleep was hardly a challenge. Buffy felt so steeped in the sudden rush of carnal emotions that she could barely bring reason to her words. Swallowning several times she weakly croaked, "Mom?"

"Don't you realize what time it is?" Not waiting for her daughter to answer she continued, "It's dinner time! Well not quite since dinner is late, but...c'mon! Get up!" She turned about and headed towards the door. Pausing she half-way turned and said, "Oh, I almost forgot! I invited your tutor for dinner. He's here now, so hurry up."

Rubbing a hand across her eyes Buffy wondered what new torments Angelus had devised for her this evening.

When her mother closed the door she swung her legs off the bed and heaved a large sigh. Padding over to the closet she lifted out a hand to find something to wear when she stopped in mid-movement. Why was she getting dressed nicely for him?

Frowning Buffy closed the closet door with a decided slam before walking over to her dresser. Quickly pulling open one drawer she grabbed a white t-shirt and then she found a pair of shorts. Slipping on both articles she then found a pair of socks and slipped those on as well.

Going into her bathroom she flipped on the switch and took a long look at herself in the mirror.

She did not like what she saw.

Her mouth was swollen from the brutal kisses she had taken, the kisses she had unwillingly wanted. Her hazel eyes were so dark they appeared black, almost as dark as his black heart. The skin under her eyes appeared shadowed, small lines taut with stress.

Gripping the counter with both hands Buffy felt the desire disappear and the sick twist of her gut turn to tension. Angelus was going to pay her back for defying him. Fear could not be a part of her reaction, she could not afford to be at anything less than top mental condition.

He was here to play tutor. He wanted to see her squirm with fear, he expected it. She could not fall into that.

Lifting a brush Buffy quickly brushed her hair before twisting into a ponytail. What if her lack of fear challenged him to be more outrageous in his behavior? Her mother could not be apart of the price he wanted from her.

The brush clattered to the floor when she tossed it away from her in frustration. Walking out of the bathroom she prepared for the worst. Determination squared her small shoulders as she took the stairs. Reaching the bottom she paused when the soft laughter assailed her ears.

He was already there with her mother.

Walking into the kitchen Buffy was prepared for everything except for the sight that met her. She expected Angelus to be lounging in a chair with a glass of wine in his hand or perhaps standing in a corner smirking, but she did not expect him to be at the stove wearing an apron.

He was stirring the sauce with a large wooden spoon, attentive to her mother's chattering. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stir this Joyce? I wouldn't want to pass anything on to either of you."

"I'm sure you won't. Anyways, you did say that you were almost over whatever bug you had." Looking at him with a frown she murmured, "Although you still look pale. Have you been getting any sun lately?"

"No I haven't." Only Buffy could hear the amusement in his words. Her mother thought Angelus was sick and she was okay with him contaminating the spaghetti sauce? It only went to prove how much charm that demon really did have.

When Joyce reached for a bowl on the top shelf, Angelus easily got it for her murmuring politely, "Here let me get that for you."

Joyce smiled up into his face, a slight blush tinging her cheeks. She replied, "Thank you Angel." Buffy's body went rigid. There could be no question about her mother's feelings. She was still obviously attracted to Angelus.

Setting the bowl down on the counter next to him she glanced at him and said, "I just want to let you know how much I appreciate you taking the time to help Buffy with school."

"It's my pleasure Joyce, it really is."

Sighing she said, "Things have been kind of hard for her since the divorce. She's gotten into trouble in school and---well, she's hasn't been the same girl that she was. I worry about her. Her father hasn't taken much of an interest in her. I'm afraid it's more that he'd rather not see me but---"

How could she just tell their business to this man? Buffy fumed at how easily her mother painted a picture of her delinquent teen-age daughter. What Mom? Hope to score some pity points?

"Buffy just needs someone to spend time with her, to take an interest in what she's doing."

"I try but with working now to support us both---"

"I wasn't suggesting that you weren't trying Joyce. I understand that things are tough around here without someone to lean on." Still stirring the sauce he repeated, "Buffy just needs someone she can come to, someone she can depend on."

Nodding her head Joyce agreed. "I think you're right." Sighing heavily she said, "It's just that she used to do so well in school! Now it seems that school doesn't have her attention."

"She's young. Doing poorly in her studies is just the outward symptom of what's going on inside. She's bright and she's determined, I'm sure she'll come out of this."

"You know at first I wasn't too comfortable with you tutoring Buffy." Laughing softly Joyce continued with, "I thought maybe you were some older man with ideas about my baby girl, but I'm impressed."

"Really?"

"Yes. I can see that you really care about my daughter's future."

"I do care about her future Joyce. I want to know that my tutoring changed the path of her life forever---in the best way of course."

How did God not just strike this creature dead? Pushing off the doorjamb Buffy strolled into the kitchen, her face pleasant as she brightly said, "Something smells good! Are we having spaghetti tonight?"

"One of your favorites." Joyce smiled indulgently at her daughter, a feeling of contentment dancing about in her fine eyes. Buffy tried not to feel the resentment of jealousy, especially when her mother looked at her like that. There could be no doubt that Joyce loved her, but...

Angelus was rubbing his hands with the apron, a small smile on his face as he walked over to her. "Hello Buffy, are you ready to eat?"

God! How much he sounded like Angel! If she could only pretend, for one night, that he was what he appeared. "Sure" she forced herself to flippantly say.

"I hope you brought your appetite Buffy. After dinner you and I have some history to go over."

Glancing at her mother Buffy saw that she was turning away and walking over to the cupboard. "I'm ready." The lowering of her brow and the glint in her eyes conveyed her message to the arrogant vampire clearly.

"Good. I look forward to it. Just remember that I won't be going easy on you this time." To her mother's ears it was an innocent statement, a light-hearted warning between tutor and pupil. Only Buffy knew differently.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

Angelus' eyes slid to her mother, noting that her back was still turned. Quickly he leaned into Buffy, his tongue smoothly following the curve of her small ear. "I'm going to love hearing you beg tonight Buff", he hotly whispered.

Before Buffy could open her mouth Joyce turned around, three large plates in her hand. Angelus was already at a proper distance away from Buffy.

"Ready?" she obliviously asked.

"Yeah."

"Of course."

And indeed they were.

Dinner surprisingly was hardly a strained affair. After helping Buffy set the dining room table, Angelus was all that was charming, keeping Joyce vastly entertained with amusing stories told in a deadpan face. The side he presented was all that Angel was not---comfortable and easy-going, with a penchant for fascinating stories. He even lulled Buffy into the conversation, putting her in a shining light so often her mother many times reached over and either squeezed or patted her hand.

Taking a sip of water Buffy observed Angelus over a rim of colored glass. He gave the appearance of eating without taking a bite at all. When her mother's attention was directly on him he would lift up a forkful of spaghetti, the moment she glanced down or took a bite herself he would put his fork down. As soon as she looked up again he would wipe his mouth with the linen napkin.

Many times he paused before speaking, moving his mouth as if eating. All in all it was very convincing. Setting her glass down Buffy took note of his plate. It was all very convincing---except for his plate. A tangled pile of spaghetti still sat there.

Her eyes flitted up and were immediately pinned by his own. Buffy's first true reaction would have been to take another drink or perhaps even a bite of food just to avoid the probing heat she found there.

However, indulging in truth would only make her appear even weaker, so Buffy chose the familiar tactic of illusion. Instead she calmly stared back, a slight brow arched with a tiny smile playing about the corners of her mouth.

Pointedly her gaze dropped to the sturdy blue china in front of him before looking back up. How are you going to pull that off? seemed to be her silently mocking challenge.

A supremely confident gleam brightened the dark orbs of his eyes. Smugly arrogant to the end Angelus glanced briefly at Joyce, noting her attention was on her glass of wine, before mouthing "Just watch." He then turned away and asked her mother about her latest aquisition for auction.

Her mother's chatter filled the air, her enthusiasm over a rare painting found at an estate sale obvious. Buffy filtered out her words as she lifted her fork and took another bite.

Surprisingly she would have thought her appetite would be non-existent. After the strain of this week and the sheer affront of having a master vampire dining at her table...well that should be enough to squash even the most stalwart of appetites.

Mentally shrugging she just enjoyed the excellent food her mother prepared. Her contest with Angelus would begin soon enough, there was no need to starve herself in the interim.

As she began to take another bite, Buffy felt a slow slide against her bare leg. Jerking slightly her gaze flew to Angelus'. While his face looked angelic, his eyes definitely cast intentions from a different dominion. Hot lust raked her flesh as she felt his touch again. God! She HAD to learn to control her baser emotions, otherwise she'd be of no use to anyone.

"Buffy?"

Was it just her imagination or did his voice carry a low, throaty growl? Eyes fleeing to her mother she saw Joyce smiling slightly, her attention now focused upon her. No, he couldn't have sounded so sexual with her mother sitting there---could he?

It was merely her perception. The tightening in her gut and the weakness centered between her thighs only colored her senses to what it wanted.

Looking at him she pasted on an inquisitive face as she answered, "What?" There. That sounded normal with even a touch of requisite teenage suspicion and hostility.

Gesturing with his fork Angelus said, "You dropped sauce on your shirt."

"I did?" Buffy immediately put her fork down. Taking two fingers she pulled her shirt away from her body, studying it for a splotch of red. "Where? I don't see it."

"You can't? It's right there in the middle."

Looking down again Buffy vainly searched for the stain, but saw nothing. Before she could smartly tell him to get his eyes checked her mother said, "Honey you better get that shirt off."

"Why?"

"Because it might set." Peering around the flowered centerpiece Joyce questioningly asked,"Did you get some on the table cloth---as large as that stain is I wouldn't be surprised."

There was no stain.

Setting his fork down Angelus remarked in a pleasant tone, "Go up and change Buffy. I'm sure you wouldn't want your shirt ruined."

Gritting her teeth Buffy knew she was outmaneuvered. To argue further would only cast her in a pouty light; somehow he had her mother convinced of something that was not even there. How did he do that?

Pushing back her chair she announced, "I'm done eating."

Nodding Joyce took another sip of wine before saying, "Okay Honey." As an afterthought she added, "Oh and Buffy---the stain remover is the laundry room right above the washer. Just pour a little bit on it and let it set. Don't rub it though."

Setting her napkin down Joyce glanced to her left and saw Angelus patiently sitting there, obviously finished with dinner. Before declaring the end of the meal Joyce offered coffee to which Angelus politely declined.

Standing she picked up her plate before picking up his. When he exclaimed, "Let me get that" she forestalled him with a firm, "Please allow me."

Awkwardly still standing there Buffy stiffened slightly, her eyes becoming hardened. She did not like her mother serving Angelus or touching any part of what was his. Quickly she was beginning to feel like an outsider in some intimate encounter between her mother and her boyfriend---

No. Not her boyfriend. The creature who blackmailed her into bed.

Buffy avoided his eyes, knowing she would only see a mocking reflection of what she was fearing.

Pushing back his own chair Angelus stood up and exclaimed, "My eyes were too big for my stomach! I guess I shouldn't have had that second helping."

Looking across the table at him Buffy waited to hear what her mother would say. Would he be able to do it again?

Walking across the kitchen to the sink Joyce set down both plates on the counter. Returning back she gently smiled at his statement. Waving her hand Joyce graciously said, "It's fine! I'm just glad you had enough the first time around. The flu can be a killer---the only way to get your strength back is to take it a little at a time."

Looking at her daughter she asked, "After you put up your plate can you help me with these?" With an arm she gestured to the plate laden table. "Or would you rather wait until you took care of your shirt?"

Before Buffy could open her mouth Angelus replied, "Please Joyce, sit down. Buffy and I can take care of these." Seeing she was about to protest he held up a hand and firmly said, "I insist."

Looking between her daughter and the tutor Joyce smiled and threw up her hands in resignation. "Alright! I'll be in the living room."

Slanting Angelus a dark look Buffy took her plate into the kitchen. Briefly glancing down at her shirt she was interrupted in mid-thought when Angelus purred, "Hoping to see it this time Buff?"

Angelus' hip rested comfortably against the counter, his arms crossed in amusement. "I know it's not there!" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder to make sure her mother could not see them.

"Are you really, really sure it's not?" he whispered back, a subtle tone of gloating soaking each word.

Angry Buffy gave him her back, half-way expecting him to haul her back by her arm. Instead she merely heard his footsteps echo behind her into the dining room. They completed the rest of their task in silence. Once all the dishes were stacked and the table cleaned off Buffy left Angelus in the kitchen.

She stopped only when she heard him remark, "Don't forget to change your shirt."

Stiffening up she forced herself to casually climb the steps. Pushing open the bedroom door she quickly strode over to her dresser and pulled out another shirt, this time in a pretty shade of lavender.

Damn him! she fumed. She despised how quickly he seemed to always take control of things. No matter how minor it was, Angelus always took the upper hand in regards to her. Now he proved that he had the ability to control people's mind---why hadn't he tried it with her?

Or had he?

Was the bond not really one at all, but merely the result of his vampiric powers?

Before this night was through she would test it. In her most heart of hearts she did not know what she hoped to discover. Without this animalistic feeling she would no longer have a reason to excuse her joy in coming to him...

After everything why should she even want to come to him?

Buffy became increasingly angry at the thought of Angelus probing into her mother's mind. He had absolutely no right to manipulate her mother as if she were nothing more than a faceless woman in the background to be played with at will.

His ability to do this made Buffy feel powerless and unsure of what to do. Giles had touched briefly on a vampire's ability to do simple mental suggestions. From what her Watcher understood it was a very rare power to have.

The sheer mental strength that it took from a vampire made it a skill that was used sparingly and one that grew with age. Since many vampires met with the stake before the half-century mark, it was hardly an issue to begin with.

Giles would have been morbidly fascinated with this turn of events. Properly horrified in his way of course, but fascinated nonetheless. She wished she could tell him---but she couldn't. Giles would also have wanted to know about how Angelus came to be in her house in the first place.

She had to do something about it---but what and how?

She felt so alone. Daily Buffy wondered how she would be able to juggle her two lives, lives that were increasingly becoming isolated despite the fact that she was not physically alone in either one. Eventually one life would venture into the other one---possibly destroying them both.

Destroying them both before Acrymydion ground the remnants beneath his heel.

Yanking her stained shirt off she threw it on the bed before pulling the other one on. Once again she could not afford to allow her thoughts to travel any further. Melancholy would serve nothing; what she needed at this moment was to focus on the two people below.

Tucking the end of the shirt into her shorts Buffy snatched her white tee and headed for the laundry room downstairs in the basement. Although it was a supreme waste of effort to treat a stain that did not exist, Buffy was not going to give the opportunity to stir even more trouble to that ass. There was no need to give Angelus another reason to torment her via her mother.

Rapidly coming down the stairs Buffy could just picture it in her mind.