He throws me aside, and I'm surprised when he catches me before I hit the wall. "I have not, and never will 'freak out' about Spike and his pathetic crush on you," Angel snarls, "I just think it's ... undignified."

"It's undignified for Spike to find me attractive," I repeat, offended, and twist at a strange angle to kick him. "Cos, you know, who'd want to do me? It's not as if *you* ever throw me down and fuck me like an animal..."

God, what happened to my delicate sensibilities? I sound like what my mother's mother would call a woman of 'ill morals'.

Of course, if dear old Gran ever found out about what passes for my morals these days, she'd probably have a violent heart attack and die.

Angel - Angelus - grabs my upper arms and pushes me against the wall, scowling at me. "It's undignified for Spike to pant after you like a puppy," he corrects, "When he'll so clearly be tortured painfully for hours on end if he so much as *looks* like he's going to touch you."

"Y'know, I've never seen any panting at all," I object, "I still think you're just being paranoid."

Sick of sparring, I stand and stare at him, waiting for his response.

"What reason do I have to be paranoid?" he says flippantly, but the underlying violence in his voice makes me shiver. "It's not as if *you'll* ever touch him."

I snort, "Says you."

He stops, deathly still. "What the *fuck* is that supposed to mean?"

I don't show my fear, but I know he can smell it. "Well, you seem *awfully preoccupied* with Drusilla lately. Maybe I'll get bored. Maybe I'll need a little company."

Why I feel the need to push him, I've got no idea. But he *has* been neglecting me in favour of Dru, and it's about fucking time that stopped.

God, it sounds as if we're in a real relationship.

"Jealous, lover?"

I grin, then, because there's a teasing glint in his eyes, as if my jealousy pleases him. It's his little control over me, and that should bother me - and I suppose it does, a little - but there's this part of me... deep inside, buried under all the other life crap, all that stuff that is just surface... a deep, dark, huntress part of me, a predator, and that part of me loves this. Aches for his domination over me, or mine over him, or anything where there'll be blood, and pain, and lust, and even, maybe, a little love.

"Yeah, and?" I say, gripping his hips and dragging him towards me, "You knew I was a possessive broad when you seduced me."

"Didn't know you'd be this much trouble," he grumbles. "Honestly, I just thought you'd make a nice midnight snack."

"Empty threat," I smirk.

He slides his hands over my back, my hips, and licks his lips. "You think?"

Then he's moving, down, down, down -

and I'm falling -

and whimpering --

and for once in my fucking life, I allow myself to lose control.

I scream - scream for him; scream for me, for everything we do and don't do and should do and everything he makes me feel. I scream for his lips on my skin, his hands on my hips, my fingers in his hair.

I scream for wrong, and right, and everything in between.

I scream for all the things I don't know any more.

I scream... to be free.

And, for once, I feel like maybe... I am.

Later, I fall asleep in his bed, which is a first. Normally, I'm up, straight away, either by choice or by his command, and out of the mansion, into the night, into the cold and lonely and lack of him. I don't know what has changed, exactly; I just know that he fell asleep first, and I couldn't force myself to get up and leave... and the way in which he reached out and automatically drew me tight against his chest kinda indicated to me that he had no problem with me staying.

I dream of sofa beds and kitchen tables, linen colours, domesticity, all the things I'll never know. In my dream, I'm in the middle of Ikea, and all these cute, wholesome couples surround me, trying to give me a shopping list and one of those little pencils, and there's some guy at my back... but all I can see is Angelus, slipping through the crowd, his eyes on me, and them, and the furniture, and he's mocking all of us. He holds his hand out to me, drawing me away, into his arms ((clutches)), away from the blurry figure that tried to hold me back... Angel took me away, and I wanted him to.

I couldn't face the couples, with their freaky little pencils and nesting instincts, trying to cage me and hold me in and make me one of them. I couldn't do that. I couldn't *be* that.

And then I wake up, in his bed, in his scary gothic mansion, with the massive black velvet curtains, and the silk sheets sliding along my skin. I wake up to his possessive arms around my waist, the scrape of his leg against mine...

And it is all so familiar, in a creepy past life, future life, known-it-was-here-all-along way, that I start to cry.

I don't think I stop until morning.

When I finally start crawl out of bed the next morning, thoroughly late for school and dying for a glass of water, Angel grumbles in his sleep and tries to pull me back into the blankets.

"I have to go," I say shortly, watching as one eye finally cracks open, and he stares at me for a moment in confusion.

"Huh?"

"School," I grunt, snatching my arm from his grasp.

His eyes widen further as he wakes up properly. "Are you still here?" he sneers, but the hurtful effect is somewhat dimmed by the fact that he's still trying to pull me back into bed with him.

"Not for long."

I kiss him, hard on the mouth, then slip out of the room, stumbling almost blindly into the bathroom.

I shower, quickly, staring at the bottle of shampoo sitting on the shelf. It's Angel's, the same brand he used when he had a soul. It's actually kind of weird thinking about the fact that all these vampires have a quite impressive collection of soaps and shampoos and stuff... you don't really think about the fact that they have to shower and moisturise just like the rest of us. There's even a bottle of strawberry shower gel, and one of those floppy material sponge things hanging from the tap.

It's kind of bizarre.

Images flutter into my mind of Angel, and shower gel, and hot water and suds and *really* good sex, and I smile, reminding myself to keep it in mind for next time. I shut off the water, standing in the steam for a moment before turning around -

And screaming, because Spike is leaning in the doorway staring at me. I hadn't even realised he was out of the wheelchair, yet. I really should keep up on these things. Y'know, Slayer-ly duties, and all.

Angel comes bolting into the room, naked, and I'm still staring at Spike, covering myself with my hands and looking longingly at the towel, hanging on the doorknob - right beside the fucking pervert.

"Do you *mind*??" I say indignantly, catching the towel Angel throws in my direction.

One moment, he's glaring at Spike, and the next, he's got his grand-childe by the neck, dragging him away, and they're gone.

I get dressed, kind of in a state of shock- because, hey, Spike saw me naked! - and I'm shaking a little. It's kind of... I don't know. I feel a little violated, even though I'm hardly a delicate little flower.

I hear Spike yelp, "Bloody fucking hell! I just wanted to take a shower! It's not my fault she doesn't know how to lock a door -"

The sound of flesh hitting flesh rips through the mansion, and I creep up to the curtain, to watch them.

Angelus looks madder than I've ever seen him, and Spike's got blood dribbling down the side of his face, but he looks pretty damn angry himself.

"Listen to me, *whelp*," Angel spits, digging his claws into Spike's neck. "If you ever so much as *think* about her in the wrong way, I *will* remind you of *exactly* why you hate me so much."

"You think I'm afraid of you?" Spike bites out, and then goes flying across the room, crashing into one of Angel's beloved statues, which shatters on impact.

"No," my lover growls, "but you never *have* been very smart, have you?"

He leaves Spike in a heap on the ground, and stalks away, towards me. Our eyes meet, and I shrug, "It's not that big a deal, you know. So he took a peep--"

"Stay out of it, Buffy," he snarls, "Give him half a chance, and he'll--"

"What? Take me on a romantic island getaway? Not likely."

"It's a power thing," Angel sighs, leading me out of the room, towards the front door. "I mean, he wants you, but not as much as he wants to overpower me. That's what it's about... It's something he'll fight for. *You're* something he'll fight for."

"So this is all some vampire domination thing?"

"Something like that."

"Well, he'd still have to seduce me, wouldn't he?" I slide my arms around Angel's neck, pull myself close. "And *that's* sure as hell not going to happen..."

"You don't have to go willingly," he snorts, shortly. "All he needs is a moment of weakness... and he'll just *take* you."

"But... you're not going to let that happen."

I've got a strange amount of faith in Angelus today; I think it's the fact that he stormed into the bathroom like some kind of big protective tornado when I screamed.

You know... as if he actually *cared*?

It's kind of nice for a change.

Although, I could have done without the parts with Spike.

I suppose I'll deal with that as it comes.

The End