"It's ok," Buffy chirped. "Riley says I need to learn how to function in the dark. I tried to tell him I already know how to function, but then we started kissing so he didn't listen."

Willow murmured something that sounded like, "How wonderful for you," but Buffy wasn't sure.

"Riley makes me his right-hand man. Well, woman. He says he likes it when I patrol with him. Sometimes I even think he lets his hostiles go just so he can page me and we can capture together." She giggled at the thought, running a brush through her hair and leaning down to tie her tennis shoes.

Under the covers, Willow made a face.

"Ok," Buffy said cheerfully. "I'll be back before sunrise."

"No, you won't," Willow replied, yawning.

Buffy blushed, knowing she was right. The last two nights, she and Riley had ended up in his bed after their search and capture was completed.

"Umm...before noon?" Buffy ventured, her hand on the doorknob.

"Sounds about right," Willow said drowsily, waving a hand in her direction. "Be careful."

"Riley tells me that too," Buffy answered. "Bye!"

"Bye," the witch grumbled, rolling her eyes. After the door closed, she muttered, "Stupid Riley."

The capture was swift and smooth, Riley watching appreciatively as Buffy took down the purple, horned demon without incurring so much as a scratch. Once on the ground, the demon was subdued by the remainder of the team and dragged off.

Buffy stole an appreciative glance at Riley, noting as he put strong hands on his hips while he watched his team take the demon. She remembered what he had done to her with those hands last night in his bed, and felt a rush of warmth at her belly. When she looked up again, he was watching her.

"You want something?" he grinned, chuckling when she flushed a delicate pink.

She thought it might be trite to say "you", so instead she walked up to him and hooked her small hands suggestively in his belt. Leaning her head back to look up at him, she dimpled prettily and he laughed again.

"Insatiable," he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle her ear.

"'Cause of you," she replied, exposing her neck for him and shivering when he brought up his hands to cup her face as he tasted her skin.

"Let's go," he coaxed, pressing his pelvis against her and sliding a hand down to bring her firmly up against him.

Buffy glanced around at the deserted copse of trees. "Go where?" she said impishly.

Riley looked up. "We can't do it out here."

"Why?"

"Because we...well...um. Huh."

She grinned. "It would be *very* exciting. I would be *very* appreciative."

His eyes glinted. "More exciting than the other day when I..." Riley whispered in her ear and Buffy giggled.

"That was exciting, yes. This would be too."

Riley swung her into his arms, eliciting a muffled shriek from Buffy, and headed toward a small opening in the grove. He knelt with her on the soft grass, depositing her beneath him. "Agent Summers," he whispered, "remove your gear."

"Why, Agent Finn," she responded, "that's against regulations."

"It's an order," he growled, nipping at her lips, and then for a long time the two people in the grass talked only in sighs and murmurs and groans.

The figure cloaked in black did not see the people on the ground until he nearly stumbled over them. He had followed the soft gasping noises for nearly ten minutes, thinking that somewhere, someone was hurt. It was only a shortcut he was taking, he had not meant to traipse through the wooded area, but he had wanted to avoid contact with anyone. True, it was four in the morning, but on a Hellmouth you never knew.

Fucking Sunnydale. He hated it. It was too painful here, although the memories were sort of dulled by time.

Dulled, but not gone.

Damn it all to hell, he was only here to pick up something from the Watcher, something the Watcher had told him would make Cordelia's head-shattering visions less painful. Some sort of herb or plant or spice or who the hell knew what. Anything, just so he wouldn't have to watch her writhe with agony each time a vision struck.

So he was in godforsaken Sunnydale, keeping his thoughts carefully neutral, and it was merely his rotten luck that had brought him through the small forested area. But at least he could help while he was here...from the sounds of things, someone needed it.

And there she was...a small blonde girl, being attacked by something twice her size. He sighed. Better jump right in there and do that saving thing the Powers had vested upon him. He squinted at the couple in the waning moonlight. Was that a....high powered weapon lying on the ground next to the writhing twosome? And a grenade pack?

And a *stake*?

//...buffy...//

"Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered, leaping headfirst into the fray, sinking his hands into the larger creature's hair and yanking with all his might.

Riley let out a yelp of surprise and heaved himself off of Buffy, turning instinctively to protect her and face his attacker. He swung a fist and connected solidly with a strong jaw.

Angel tumbled backward, landing with a grunt on his backside, and looked up to see a very big, very human male coming toward him. A quick glance took in the state of undress the male was in. Shirt untucked, pants unzipped, belt hanging loose...

Before the guy was on him, Angel turned a horrified stare to the small girl.

//...buffy...//

It was her, the razor thin paper cut on his memory. She was shirtless. And from all appearances, definitely not in need of saving.

Angel's heart, if still beating, would have twisted and died in that minute.

And in the next minute, he was shaking his head to clear it after receiving another hard right to the cheekbone, and threw up his hands to block another blow.

He wanted to die all over again, he wanted to just crawl away and die, but he couldn't because he was defending himself from the very strong young man that was raining blows about his head and kicking him in the ribs between punches.

Then the onslaught stopped with a soft word.

"Riley," Buffy said quietly, putting a restraining hand on his arm. "You can stop."

He did immediately, and Angel looked up carefully to see the man glance fondly down at Buffy.

//...buffy, his buffy...//

"I know him," Angel heard her explain, and he thought to himself that if she didn't put a shirt on he would rage against the boy she called Riley all over again.

"He probably thought he was protecting me." She took a step nearer to Angel, who found himself helpless to move beneath her accusing stare. "He likes to do that. Protect me."

Buffy knelt down next to Angel, who pulled himself into a sitting position. Suddenly he was very cold, and afraid.

"I don't know why you're here in Sunnydale." Her voice was flat, emotionless. "It figures that you would come here yet again, and try to hide in the shadows. Spying on me."

"I wasn't--"

She held up her hand in a futile gesture and he stopped, knowing it was useless.

"Listen to me, Angel. Hear what I say and know that I mean it." She leaned in very close, out of range of Riley's hearing, and spoke in a low voice. "I want you to go away. I want you to go so far away that there is no chance of me ever laying eyes on you again."

Angel swallowed tightly, listening to her speak to him in a tone he had never heard before.

"Get out of my town, and get out of my head. Don't come here again."

"That's what you want?"

"That's what I want."

He got to his feet and looked down at her still kneeling form. "Done."

She watched him stride off through the trees, and found herself to be pleasantly numb. Buffy looked up at Riley with a small smile, and he picked her dirt-streaked shirt up off the ground and handed it to her. She sighed. "I guess doing it out here wasn't one of my best or brightest."

He laughed at her then, relieved that the strange tension had been broken, and oddly reluctant to ask her about the man dressed in black that had had such fire in his eyes. He decided to wait.

"Sun's almost up, Agent Summers. I'll walk you back."

"How gallant of you, Agent Finn." Buffy linked her arm with his and together they gathered up the discarded weaponry. Arm in arm, they walked casually out of the wooded area together, turning east toward the college and the rising sun.

The door closed, and Willow awoke with a start. "Buffy? You came back."

Buffy leaned against the closed door and looked at her friend, suddenly remorseful for her own casual mistreatment of Willow.

"I guess I did."

"Is everything fine? With Riley, I mean?" She leaned up on one elbow, her red hair tousled from sleep.

"Uh huh. Good. Fine. It's good."

"Buffy," Willow said concernedly, and sat up. "You're crying."

Buffy took a step toward her own bed before suddenly whirling around toward Willow's, collapsing on it in a trembling heap and laying her head in the witch's lap.

"Tell me," Willow soothed, stroking her hair. "Tell me."

Buffy took a deep breath.

"Angel."

The fog crept in on little cat feet, breathing wisps of itself onto the trees and blanketing the ground in vaporish cotton. Angel moved silently through the fog, watching it part in front of him and almost able to feel it close again behind him, as if he had never been there at all.

He hadn't been, in all actuality. Vampires did not take up space like humans did. This lack of space in the universe accounted for Angel's emptiness in his everyday life, the knowledge that he was so ignored by physics that he failed to even cast a reflection.

This is what he wanted the cause of his emptiness to be. He wanted the hole in his heart to be from a lack of belonging, a yearning to fit in, and it was, partially.

The other part was because of a slender blonde girl with hazel eyes that were sometimes green.

She had turned on him last night, that slender blonde girl with the hazel-green eyes, and Angel found himself to be desolate and lost in the wake of her anger.

//...I want you to go so far away that there is no chance of me ever laying eyes on you again...//

That's what she had said to him, while her boyfriend or whoever he was had watched from a distance, and Angel had heard the underlying plea mixed in with the fury.

So he had left her with a curt nod and a single word.

//...Done...//

Now he was wandering blindly through the fog, dimly aware that he was still in Sunnydale. The pain of being in the town was great, but it seemed that each time in the past twelve hours that he had made to leave, an invisible border had gone up around the perimeter of the town. He could not make himself go.

Angel prowled softly through the cemeteries and churchyards that were Sunnydale, retracing steps he had taken long months ago with Buffy, and felt the pull of her light even while he was lost in the dark.

What had he done to her, to himself? How could he have driven such a deep wedge between them that the sight of him would anger her so?

//...writhing, groaning, she was sighing with delight when his hands touched her, her shirt had been off and she had been flushed with pleasure...//

Angel felt his gorge rise at the memory of what he had stumbled across last night. Locked in an embrace with the young man, Buffy had given every sign that she was enjoying his touch, and was clearly angered at Angel's interruption.

//...why, Angel? Why was she so angry...?//

The question came and went before he even knew that the answer had struck him like lightning. He stopped in his tracks, startling a cat that had been stalking its dinner behind him, and suddenly blinked.

As if waking from sleep, he raised bleary eyes and looked around. The campus. He had come to the UC Sunnydale campus. She was here, she lived here, and he had come here of his own volition. But he'd never find her room...

Except he was walking toward a stately brick building that could only be the student dorms, and he was searching the lighted windows for hers, and then Angel knew which one it was because she stood silhouetted by a single lamp.

And her boyfriend was with her.

He took a step backward, hope crushed like the fragile bird it was, but could not take his eyes from the couple in the window. Angel watched as they kissed, the man's hands holding her face lightly, gently. He watched as Buffy settled her hands at the man's waist softly, bringing him nearer to her, and Angel began to slowly clench and unclench his fists as he stared.

And then, mercifully, he saw them break apart and move from the window. Straining on his tiptoes, Angel could see the top corner of the door open, then close after a minute. Moving quickly, Angel ducked behind the stone fountain and kept a careful eye on the glass doors at the front of the dormitory.

The man came out alone.

Angel was inside even before the double doors had closed again, saving him the problem of having to be buzzed in, and then he stood in the lobby. He was at a loss, he would never find her room.

Except that he was heading to the stairs, taking them two at a time, and looking anxiously down a very long hallway with twenty doors that were all identical. *Now* he was at a loss, he couldn't knock on every door asking for her, this was useless and futile and impossible.

And then Willow was coming out of one of the doors on the left side of the hallway and Angel could have cried.

He was on her before she had taken a step, grabbing her arm, and he instantly regretted it.

"You," she spat at him with such venom he flinched. This, from gentle Willow?

"Me," he said lamely.

"Go away."

"That's what Buffy said," he replied, keeping his voice low.

"I know. Good. You deserve it, and more, for being such a...such a..." she fished for the right word and Angel couldn't help smiling. Her sweet nature did not allow for profanity, obviously.

"A stupid bastard," he supplied.

"Yes!" Willow's eyes lit up. "A...what you said."

"An arrogant, selfish jerk."

She nodded emphatically. "Yes. A jerk. Definitely."

"I'm going in there, Willow."

She slumped defeatedly. "I know. But...can you pretend I tried to stop you?"

Angel grinned. "I'll tell of the valiant effort you made to keep me from her."

"Oooh, valiant. How descriptive," she said thoughtfully. Then, "Are you going to go away, Angel?"

"I'm not going away any more, ever."

"Then you can go in."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, meaning it.

The witch narrowed her eyes at him. "But this has to be the last time. We can't take any more."

Angel nodded seriously, knowing it was true. "Willow...you're a good friend."

"I try," she responded airily. "Remember...valiant!"

His mouth curved up, and he watched her walk away for a moment before turning his attention to the closed door, and steeling himself. His soft knock was answered with a muffled, "Come in."

When she looked up from her spot on the bed to see who her visitor was, Angel almost gave the situation up for lost. The warmth in her eyes turned to ice. Never had she ever looked at him with an expression like that, with no light for him.

"Why do you look at me that way?" he asked softly, hating himself.

Buffy rose from the bed to meet him across the floor. "Angel," she said in a clear voice, "I want you to go away."

"I don't want to."

"But I want you to!" she insisted. "I don't want you!"

"I can't go," he said, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "I tried to go. You told me to go. I tried. I tried," he repeated, his tone growing desperate.

"I don't want you," she said again, shaking her head. "I don't want you, and I don't need you, and you need to go away. I don't...I don't..." Buffy began to tremble, her eyes growing huge, the pupils dilating until all Angel could see was a thin ring of hazel surrounded by black.

When he took a step toward her, she raised her voice. "No!" she demanded. "No, you stay away from me! Don't look at me with those sad eyes and pretend you want me!"

"I do want you."

"You don't! You say you do, but it's all pretty words, because...because..." She faltered, her voice growing tight with unshed tears.

"Because...?" he prompted.

"You don't love me!" she shouted, crystal tears hovering on her lower lashes. "You would never leave me if you loved me!"

And there it was, the truth of it. Angel blinked. She had never said that to him, had never once told him she had felt that painful admission.

"Buffy," he whispered, "I left you *because* I love you. I left you in spite of loving you. I had to do it, Buffy, we would have destroyed each other."

"You're destroying me now, Angel," she said, her voiced laced with misery. "You take a piece every time you go."

"Then I won't go," he said fiercely, reaching out with graceful reflexes and hauling her up against him. "I was wrong."

Buffy struggled with herself, trying to make a last ditch effort. "Riley."

"Ril....oh." He let go of her and swallowed with difficulty. "Does he...does he make you happy, Buffy?"

Her tears spilled over beautifully, tracing each other down her cheeks. She nodded miserably.

Angel's jaw tightened, and he lowered his head in defeat. There was nothing left for him to do but go, then. Go, and try to make some kind of life without her...

"Angel," she said in a choked voice, "he only makes me happy because I let him. Because I couldn't have you."

The words hung soundlessly in the air for a moment before Angel took two steps and swung her into his arms, crushing her lips to his and greedily drinking her tears from her cheeks. She sobbed into his neck as he lay her on the bed, great deep wracking breaths that stemmed from somewhere dark and hurt.

The tears continued to flow even as Angel felt her stir beneath him, felt her nuzzle into his hair as he lay atop her. She continued to cry when he lifted his head to trace a path with his lips over her forehead and eyes, ending up at her mouth, and she welcomed him gratefully, sliding her fingers into his hair and holding him pressed to her lips.

"Don't go away," she whimpered against his mouth, and he shook his head.

"No. I won't."

When he lowered his head to nuzzle her fading scar, the scar that he himself had given her, a deep shudder went through her entire body and she arched against him, grinding her hips up to him even though both of them were fully clothed. "Can I feel you?" she pleaded. "Just to make sure you're here?"

He could not have denied her if she had asked him to return to Hell, and with a practiced hand, Angel divested them of both of their shirts.

Buffy sighed softly when she felt herself pressed against his naked chest, her nipples tightening from the contact, and wanted to rock against him again, but was afraid. The passion was dangerous, and it had to be controlled lest Angel find himself again fighting for his soul.

But when Angel took the lead from her, slowly shifting his hips against her soft ones, she looked up at him with the question in her eyes.

"It's all right, alainn," he promised, using the Gaelic endearment easily. "The curse...is that what you want to know?"

Buffy nodded in wonder, hoping against hope that it could be true.

Angel grinned. "There was this guy named Doyle. He gave me a present when he died, and remind me to tell you about it sometime. Sometime when I'm not busy burying myself in you."

Buffy's eyes widened at his words, then narrowed again as she smiled slowly. "Bury away," she invited.

Angel kissed her as if he had never tasted her before, savoring her sweetness and marveling at the silkiness of her skin. The coppery smell of her blood below the surface set him to boiling, and his erection pressed uncomfortably against the ridge of his pants. Reaching down, he unbuttoned the fly and sprang free against the softness of her stomach, trying not to be impatient. It was an impossibility. He rubbed the velvet head against her skin once, twice, and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from spilling like a teenager on her stomach.

She shifted beneath him, bringing a strong leg up to press against his hip, and he settled himself more firmly in the cradle of her thighs and began to rock. Buffy arched her neck and fell into the rhythm with him, feeling her core dampen and trying to bring him closer still.

Angel cuddled her close to him while at the same time trying to rid her of the remainder of her clothing. Desire made him clumsy, and he fumbled with the waistband of her pants until she brushed his hands away and did it for him, also taking time to push his pants down over his lean hips. He was grateful.

And then finally there was only skin to skin and heart to heart as they lay, touching, loving. The musky scent drew Angel lower, searching, and he nuzzled into the crisp curls at her apex when he felt her open like a flower.

Buffy was not shy or embarrassed, and Angel realized with a bittersweet pang that she had learned much while he was absent. She knew how to take her pleasure and how to let him give it to her, which he did now with abandon. Taking a slow, long taste, he glided his tongue between her lips that were moist with her want, always pausing at the crown of her sex to nibble at the hard bud. She began to move her hips in time with his motions, lifting herself up off the bed as he ran his tongue down, and grinding her bottom into the bed when he dawdled at the top. And then he felt her start to offer herself into his mouth, her hands snaking down to hold his head in just the right spot to pleasure her.

Angel set to work, suckling with the right amount of pleasure while bringing his thumbs up to hold apart her lips. Buffy gasped and thrust herself into his mouth, trembling on the very brink, and he increased his pressure just enough to send her shaking into orgasm, her fingers curling into his hair while she arched off the bed.

She had not yet come all the way down, but he couldn't wait, and with one smooth thrust he was in her.

Buffy opened smoky jade eyes and her mouth softly curved up in delight at the feel of him. "That's perfect," she whispered. "You're made for me."

He could only groan softly in response, and pulled out far enough to make Buffy whimper. She pulled him back again, winding her legs about his waist, and Angel began to drive into her over and over and over again.

If he could have made one wish, it would have been to make the moment everlasting, but all too soon he felt his climax building. Buffy's sharp intake of breath as her swollen bud ground against his pelvis was enough to start it, and Angel felt his muscles shake as he stiffened against her. Buffy still moved, however, thrusting up against him, and he couldn't keep back a snarl as he felt himself shoot cool seed deep into her warmth.

They lay cocooned together, entangled in the bedding, the smell of their lovemaking winding itself about them and lulling them both into sleep.

Buffy bounded up the stairs, fairly skipping down the hall in her rush. She opened the door with a bang and was instantly caught up in strong arms, and she laughed her delight out loud.

Angel had said he would wait for her, and he did. He had stayed.

"Did you tell him?" Angel asked seriously, putting a finger on her nose.

"I did," she said with a twinge of sadness. "It was hard."

Angel grew even more sober. "Is it...are you...Buffy, is this right for you? Was Riley right for you?"

She considered for a minute, then nodded. "He was right for me. He was right for what I needed, until what I *really* needed came back."

Dark eyes studied her face. "I should never have gone in the first place."

"No," she said softly. "You shouldn't have. Don't do it again."

"I won't, alainn," he told her. "I can't."

The End

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