Part 13

Same day, 09:00 p.m.

Angel cursed as he switched off the ignition and got out of his parked car. A celebration at the Splash, Willow had told him. They were holding a celebration tonight at the club and there was no way he could stay away. First he hadn't quite known what to think of it, but then Faith had said the same and so here he was. Tired, hungry and not feeling very communicative. Well, maybe he could just drink a glass of something and then quietly disappear.

All he wanted was to slump down in front of the television and zone out for a while. He'd been following Riley all afternoon, all around Los Angeles. That really had been fun, while Spike had been off chasing Darla again and met again with her sister. Riley hadn't seen Simone this afternoon, but besides investigating in a case of a murdered bar-owner, he met an interesting bunch of people. Angel wasn't sure what it meant, but it was more than just slightly suspicious.

Groaning, he realized he probably would see Riley soon. God, just what he needed tonight. He opened the door and looked around. To his surprise he didn't see the faces he'd expected. Yes, there were officers, some of them he even remembered but there was nobody... He froze when his eyes fell on a blond head. Buffy was sitting at a table, playing with the straw in her drink, looking into space.

Of course Angel had known he'd see her tonight, but that had been assuming that all their colleagues'd surround them. On the other hand, they had already talked to each other, and they were working with each other. Besides he could still hear Cordelia's words that Buffy didn't blame him anymore. If it could be true... "Hi," he said, looking down at her.

Her head jerked up, her eyes widened, and her voice sounded a bit breathless when she replied, "Hi."

"Guess you're the first one here," he remarked.

"Huh?" she asked confusion clearly visible on her features.

"For the celebration," he clarified. "It seems you are the first."

Instead of lessening her confusion intensified, "Celebration?"

Angel's brows drew together, "You don't know about it? Willow said there was some sort of celebration tonight at... or was it... no," he nodded more to himself, "it was tonight. I'm sure of it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. What celebration?" Buffy asked, "What was there to celebrate?"

He made a helpless gesture with one hand, "I have no idea. But Willow insisted I come. And Giles even-," he broke off, when it hit him. "They set us up," he exclaimed.

"I beg your pardon?" Buffy raised her brows; she still wasn't able to understand what was going on.

"Willow set us up," he repeated. "She told me to come here for some kind of celebration. What did she say to you?"

The blond shook her head, "Nothing. As a matter of fact Willow didn't say... oh wait," she said suddenly, realization in her eyes, "Faith called me. This morning. She said she wanted to meet me. Reconcile and stuff." She slammed her palm against the table, "I should've known it. Faith was never a morning person and all of a sudden she calls me at seven in the morning. Oh, this traitorous bitch, this lying-"

"I'm sure she meant well," he interrupted her raging.

"What?"

"I'm sure they meant well. Maybe it was their way of trying to get us together," he said. Did she have any idea how beautiful she looked, her eyes blazing with anger, he wondered.

His words hadn't the effect he'd hoped, instead of smiling, she seemed to get even more angry, "Well, huh?" she spat and Angel winced at the sound of her voice. Maybe angry wasn't quite the right word. Too soft. "I'll give them well," she stood and combed a hand through her hair, "They have no idea what they're doing. They don't know what we need. They have no right," she paused for a moment, obviously suddenly realizing her tone. She sighed and held out her hands, palms up, "I mean, what are they hoping to accomplish, I'm asking you."

"I don't know," he replied quietly, "Maybe they just want us to talk?"

"Talk?" she spat the word as if it was something completely foreign to her, "What should we talk about? I'm sure you aren't even interested in talking to me."

"Whoa," he exclaimed, holding his hands up. "I never said that."

Her brows drew together in confusion as she stared at him. "So you would?" she asked, her voice back to normal, but holding a trace of surprise. "Talk to me, I mean?"

"Well," he shrugged, and then looked pointedly at the table. Why did she think he didn't want to talk to her? Was it because of his visit to her apartment the other day? He already regretted ever having gone there. That morning it had seemed the wisest idea to clear the air between them and allow them to work together. In the face of Cordelia's words about Buffy's feelings towards him he wasn't so sure anymore.

She followed the direction of his eyes and instantly understood, "Oh, well, if you want to sit down," she invited, nervously wiping her hands at her trousers. "After all I came to talk to someone who'd once been my friend. To make things better. Now it seems I'm still going to do that, just that it's you and not Faith. So... do you... want to sit down?"

"I'd like that," he replied softly, giving her one of his half-smiles. "I'd like that very much." Molly, the waitress, appeared and took his order, then left again. Angel frowned not quite sure how to begin and caught her chewing at her lower lip, her hands hidden under the table, but from the movements of her arms he could guess she was nervously playing with them. She was staring at her glass of white wine, avoiding his eyes and he wondered what she expected him to do.

"Nothing, I expect nothing," she said quietly, still not looking at him.

A little bit embarrassed Angel realized that he'd thought aloud. His smile was sad when he said, "No, I suppose you wouldn't."

She made a little sound of protest and shook her head, one of her hands playing with her straw now, "No that's not... I mean, I didn't mean that. I mean," she let out an exasperated breath clearly annoyed with herself and finally raised her head to look at him, "I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I didn't mean to imply that there was nothing to be expected of you. I just wanted to say that after... after," she shrugged, remembering Xander's words from just before, "well, after what I did to you, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd like to pretend I didn't exist at all."

"That," he replied, nodding at the waitress who brought his drink, "would be absolutely impossible. First of all you're sitting right in front of me and then," he paused to sip from his glass, "it would be hard to overlook someone as beautiful as you are."

Buffy felt a wild flutter in her heart at that and blushed instantly, "Oh," she made, not sure how to react. "You... you think I'm beautiful?" Oh great, Buffy, now he thinks you're completely shallow and just fishing for compliments.

"I always thought that and you know it," he said, the sadness gone from his smile. "You were always the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

Her blush deepened and the flutter increased to a frantic beating. If he didn't stop she would soon embarrass herself. "Well... uh... thanks," she smiled, and then again bit her lower lip. "You look... good too. More... uh... mature."

He grimaced at that, "Older, you mean?"

"No," she protested, "I mean, of course you are older-"

"Thanks," he joked.

"But so am I," she continued, ignoring his interruption. "I'm thirty after all."

"Who would've guessed?" he winked at her, "You look barely older than 20." He was shocked that she didn't laugh at that but that suddenly tears welled up in her eyes and she was blinking rapidly. "Hey," he said softly, wanting to reach out and touch her hand, but not daring to. "What is it?"

"You..." she sniffed, "are flirting with me."

His smile widened, "Yeah, and?"

"You are... How can you flirt with me after... after what I've done to you?" she asked, covering her quivering mouth with one hand. "After all the horrible things I said, after... after... and then I went and married Riley?"

The smile instantly vanished from his face, "Buffy, about Riley-"

"No," she held up a hand, "You don't have to tell me. I'll..." she took a deep breath, "I will never forgive myself for behaving like I did that afternoon at my wedding, when you came and... God, I was such a bitch."

"Buffy, you were hurt. You just lost your brother. You thought..." his voice faltered slightly, but he had it under control in an instant, "You thought I killed him. What you did... It's not difficult to understand."

"So you... you..." she was a loss for words.

"I, what?" he asked, reaching out tentatively and covering her trembling hand with his. "What?" he urged.

"But you came, to my apartment and you said... that you didn't care anymore what happened four years ago. That whatever happened between us was... you were so cool, so distant," she wiped her eyes with her free hand, glad that they were sitting in a dark corner of the club where nobody else could see her tears.

"Buffy, I thought you still held me responsible for Mike's death," he tried to explain. "I thought-"

"NO," her outcry was so shocked that some other guests turned to look into their direction. She lowered her voice, but Angel felt her hand turning and gripping his. A bolt of electricity shot through him at that, and warmth settled in his soul that had been missing for four long years, "No, I don't. I never did. Not really. I just wasn't quite myself after it happened and I... When I finally woke up I found myself married to Riley."

"I know," he replied squeezing her hand gently, "Cordelia told me. It was... a shock for me to hear that, I'll admit. All those years I thought you still thought I was responsible despite my words, despite Faith and Drusilla."

"Oh, Angel," she blinked more tears away, "I'm so sorry. If I could-"

"But we can't," he interrupted her. "We can't turn back time and change things."

"I know," she whispered sadly. Of course she'd known it all along. It was too late. But that stupid little part had still hoped...

"We can only move forward," he went on, not letting go of her hand. He looked at her, saw her beautiful hazel eyes, her shimmering hair, remembered all the laughter and love they'd shared and then thought about the emptiness in his life and the feelings he'd tried to ignore. "And we could do it together if you want," then suddenly realizing what he'd said, he tried to amend, "Of course we don't have to rush, we could be friends to start, could go to see a movie, drink a cup of coffee-"

"Yes," she said, interrupting him, her eyes resting on him with an expression that looked like a mixture between hope and fear. More softly she added, "Yes, I'd like that." God, maybe Xander was right, maybe sorry wasn't so difficult after all. "And you can really forget what I said to you?"

"Forget?" he shook his head, "hardly. I'll never forget what happened. But forgive? Yes. That I can do. Actually I already did that. As soon as I realized it wasn't really you who said the words. But of course it was too late. Cordelia said I should've fought harder, and maybe she's right."

Buffy was about to reply when Molly appeared again to bring Angel's steak and Buffy's french-fries. They ate in silence, exchanging smiles from time to time, the blonde's eyes shining with something he'd missed before. They were still sad, but there was also life in them, and hope. Silently he thanked Faith and Willow for their meddling. This evening was the break-through, Angel was sure of that. Of course they had still a long way to go, but they had made peace after all.

He had no idea how Buffy felt about him. Sure, there was guilt, and she seemed genuinely glad that he didn't blame her for the words she'd said. The way she'd acted, but that didn't mean that she still had feelings for him, that she was interested in a relationship. After all she just ended her marriage and was probably not even looking for another man in her life. A picture of Riley flickered through his mind but Angel quickly pushed it away. No, he decided firmly, Riley wouldn't spoil this evening.

"You look so serious," she said, pulling him from his thoughts. "I can tell, because when you're brooding a sharp line appears between your brows. It's even more visible now that you've grown older," she said pointing to his forehead.

"Oh, thanks," he replied sarcastically, but a smile was playing around his mouth. He felt lightheaded all of a sudden. They were sitting together, eating, and talking together, God, they were even laughing together. After all the time they'd spent apart, after all that heartache it was almost unreal.

"Why did you come back to L.A.?" she asked suddenly.

"What?" the question had caught him off guard. He knew he couldn't tell her about Internal Affairs and hated that he had to keep a secret from her, especially now when there seemed a chance for something he'd already given up hoping. "Oh, L.A. Well, homesick I guess," he said, glad that it wasn't a complete lie. He had liked living in New York, but there hadn't been one day when he hadn't missed L.A. or more specifically, Buffy. Maybe he would tell her that one day, but for the moment he kept it to himself.

"Uh-huh. I can understand that, I would miss L.A. if I had to move away," she smiled slightly, then nodded at his plate, "You ready?"

"What? Yes, yes, I'm ready. It's good food." He laughed suddenly, and when he saw her curious gaze, he explained, "I just realized I haven't been to Cara since I came back."

"You haven't?" she couldn't believe it, "I wouldn't be able to exist without her. Willow and I meet there at least once a week for lunch. It's like a tradition. Just last week we were talking that L.A. wouldn't be the same if Cara wasn't there anymore."

"How is she?" Angel asked affectionately. He had always liked the owner of Kinks and Drinks, and he remembered a special evening, when she'd sat with him, listened to his grief and hurt, maybe prevented him from doing something stupid.

"Fine," Buffy replied grinning. It lit up her whole face and want slammed into Angel's gut with a force that made him suddenly breathless. "You know Cara. Nothing can stop her. She's still in love with her lump of a husband and he simply adores her. Her clothes are still 'kinky' she insists and we all love her."

They laughed together at that and the blond felt like flying at the feeling that began to spread through her whole being. It had been so cold those last four years without him and now the warmth was coming back. He didn't blame her anymore, she could hardly believe it, and he was laughing with her, had held her hand. She felt like climbing the highest mountain and shouting it to the world.

"Shall we go?" he asked after a moment, checking his watch, to his surprise it was already 11.00 p.m.

"Sure," she agreed, trying to protest when he placed several bills on the table, but he just shook his head and so she gave him a thankful nod.

Leaving the club the night-air was a welcome change from the sticking atmosphere inside. "Where did you park your car?" Angel asked, looking around.

"Just over there," she pointed at a small Toyota Riley had given her three months after their wedding. "The green one." She'd thought about getting rid of it, but there wasn't enough money at the moment to replace it. So she swallowed her pride and was still using Riley's gift.

"Let me walk you," he offered and then started towards it without waiting for her answer. She smiled and followed, enjoying being near him like this. Please, please let this work, she prayed to whatever god was listening.

They reached the driver's side of the car and she turned to say goodbye, when his large body suddenly held her prisoner between him and the car. "Angel," she said startled because of the unexpected closeness. Her heart beat a mile a minute, feeling him so close to her, her breath caught in her throat and it was as if armies of ants were running through her gut.

"Do you know that when I returned to L.A. I vowed that I wouldn't fall for you again?" he whispered, leaning closer. "I thought I could do it," he chuckled slightly, "I actually thought I could stay away from you. But I should've known."

"What?" she whispered back, mesmerized by the intense expression in his eyes, the burning passion, they were usually brown but now they seemed almost black.

"That I couldn't resist you," he replied, his breath fluttering over her lips.

When his lips finally touched hers, she felt the shock all the way to her toes. The ripples of pleasure were so intense, that she moaned involuntarily against his mouth.

Angel's hands slid into her hair, combing through it, marveling in the feeling of pure silk running through his fingers. She was so soft, so warm, so perfectly suited to him. For years he had dreamed of this, of kissing her again, of her kissing him back, and finally his dream was becoming reality.

With gentle force he urged her lips apart, his tongue slipped between them, and she reflexively opened her mouth to it. It had been so long, but it felt so natural, so right. Buffy raised her hands to encircle his neck, to pull him even closer to her, then gave in to the hunger, taking all she could get, afraid he would stop, afraid she would maybe never feel like that again, so whole, so complete. She needed more, needed-

Involuntarily she made a strangled, helpless sound, overwhelmed by the feelings that were consuming her and Angel, understanding it wrong, ended the kiss and stepped back. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaken, his hands in her hair trembling. "I... I didn't mean...."

"No," she raised her hands and covered his that were now cupping her cheeks. "It's okay. I wanted it too."

Slowly pulling his hands back, he cleared his throat, "Maybe you should go home now," he suggested, shaken to the core by the intensity of his feelings. Had he actually believed he could live without her?

"Yes," she whispered, opening the door behind her back. "See you tomorrow," she breathed, reaching out she touched his arm a moment.

He startled her when he put her hand in his and pulled it to his mouth, kissing it softly. "Yeah," he agreed, letting go of her hand again, "Tomorrow."

With a last smile she slid into her car, started the ignition and drove away.

Part 14

same day, 11.30 p.m.

With a happy smile on her face Buffy unlocked the door to her apartment, closed it afterwards and with a sigh leaned against it. She closed her eyes and could still feel Angel's lips, the taste of him, the way his breath had tickled her skin, and his hands running through her hair, massaging her skull.

She couldn't remember when she'd ever had felt so good before. No, that wasn't true, she remembered, but after four empty years she suddenly felt filled with warmth, with love, with hope and she thought she would burst from all the feelings tumbling inside of her. She'd been so depressed and utterly hopeless and now... Everything suddenly seemed possible again. All the things she'd thought were lost were again within her reach. And the feeling was so wonderful, that she began to hum a love song when she pushed herself away from the door and made her way towards the living room.

Still humming she switched the light on, turned and froze. The song died on her lips and the keys she'd been holding fell to the floor, sounding incredibly loud in the sudden silence.

After a moment she managed to make her voice work, but it still croaked when she said, "Wha..." she had to clear her throat first, "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I lived here for three and a half years," Riley replied shifting slightly on the seat he was occupying. He had pulled his legs underneath him and was watching her, then slowly held out his hand where a set of keys was dangling from his index finger. "And I still have the key," he added unnecessarily.

"So I see," she replied coolly, glad that she'd been able to regain her composure so quickly. "But you still haven't answered my question," she went on, throwing her jacket over the sofa, "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting my wife," he said, smirking at her.

Her only retort was the rising of one brow, "She isn't here," she said after a moment.

"Oh, but she is," he insisted, watching her walking to the bar and pouring herself a glass of soda. "And she looks very beautiful tonight."

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, glad that he couldn't see her face, then pulling herself together she turned back to him, "Riley, please. Just leave. I have no idea what's going on in your head tonight, but I'm tired."

"Come on," he said and put his keys on the table, "Tomorrow is Saturday. You can sleep in. Don't you have ten minutes for your loving husband?"

"Riley," she sighed heavily and shook her head. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" he echoed. His expression changed that moment, gone was the smirk, the lightness of his voice, and it was replaced by anger, even hatred, "Well, maybe I thought I at least deserve the same treatment as your lover," he spat the last word, as if its taste was poisoning his mouth.

"My what?" Buffy asked honestly surprised by his accusation.

"Your lover," he repeated. "Is he good?" he asked, finally standing up, "Does he satisfy you?"

"Excuse me?" she crossed her arms in front of her chest, but her eyes never wavered. "*What* are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about? Well, I'll tell you what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the fact that I saw you, in front of the Splash, your lips locked with Angel's."

Too stunned by his words, by the fact that he'd obviously been watching them, she couldn't find the words this would have demanded. She could only stare at him.

"What?" he taunted, "no excuses?" he asked, stepping closer, "I already told you, you were a whore, Buffy, and you are, you certainly are."

Finding her voice again, she hissed, "Get out, get the hell out of my apartment."

"Oh, no, my lovely wife," he replied, coming even closer, his whole body language openly threatening, "And that's what you are. My wife. My oh so loving, adulteress, cheating wife," he said, emphasizing each insult by punching his right fist into his left palm.

Oh no, she would not be frightened by his aggressive posture, she would not back away and beg him to leave her alone. She suppressed the fear rising in her in remembering the way he'd beaten her before he'd left the apartment, what she'd thought had been for good. "Only for another three weeks," she said, glad her voice was sounding cool and controlled, "After that a judge will end what shouldn't have begun and then you can go to hell for all I care."

The moment the words left her mouth she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. In a flash he was right in front of her, his arms coming to encase her between the bar and his body. Angel had done almost the same thing only minutes ago, but it had been with care, his eyes passionate while Riley's were blazing with rage, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tight that his knuckles went white.

Now being so near to him, Buffy could smell the alcohol in his breath, saw the heightened color in his cheeks, partly from anger, but partly caused by too much whiskey, his favorite drink these days. Hoping that he wouldn't realize that her hands were shaking, she looked straight in his eyes that, as she knew now, were not completely sober "Get out," she demanded.

He laughed at that, a sound that made the hairs in her neck stand up straight and fear sent shivers down her spine. "Oh no," he replied, "First I want to have what you so willingly gave to him," he said and without warning his mouth took possession of hers, with bruising strength he forced her lips apart, making her nauseous with the smell of his breath, his tongue invading her deep, while his hands and arms were pressing her close, holding her so tight that she had no chance to push him away.

The fear was dominant now, with images of raped women springing to her mind, beaten wives, crying in her arms, with empty, hopeless eyes, abused by their boyfriends or husbands, treated as if they were objects, not human beings. God, please no, she prayed silently. No, please don't let him do this. And suddenly there was Angel's face, smiling at her, laughing, she thought about his lips on hers. And rage suddenly pushed the fear away, rage that she was letting Riley do this to her, that she allowed him to taint this evening that held so much hope.

With all her strength she managed to get her hands between their bodies and pushed his much larger and heavier body away. Maybe because he wasn't expecting it or maybe because of the alcohol he stumbled back a step, "NO," she shouted. "Get away from me," she said, wiping her mouth, hoping against hope to wipe him away, his taste, the feeling of his invasion, "Get out of my apartment."

"Oh, come on," he had the guts to grin, "you liked it, admit it. I'm sure he didn't kiss you that way."

"No, he didn't. I enjoyed kissing him," she shouted, trembling with rage and fear, hating Riley in a way she'd never hated him before. "How can you dare to force yourself on me?"

"Because you vowed that you'd worship me with your body," he declared, imitating the priest's voice. "God, you were lying like the best of them. We might be divorced in three weeks, but by God today you will be my wife."

Without another warning he grabbed her. She hadn't expected him to move so quickly with all the booze in his blood, but obviously she'd been wrong. Ignoring her outcry he pushed her to the ground and was over her the next second, pulling at her clothes, his ragged breathing in her ears, she could feel the evidence of what he was planning to do to her pressed against her thigh.

He's going to rape me, Buffy thought desperately, oh God he's actually going to rape me. The rage gone again, the fear was back. And he could see it, she thought, he could see it in her eyes, and he was laughing at her fear, enjoying the feeling of power and control. What had she been told at the Police Academy? Rape is no sex crime it's about showing power. And they were right, she thought, while Riley was busy ripping her blouse into shreds, grabbing her bra and ripped it apart, then roughly and a bit clumsily fondled her breasts.

And maybe the acceptance of what was going to happen to her made her system shut down. It was as if her mind and body were suddenly two different things, as if her mind didn't belong to this body anymore. She went slack under his hands, didn't even realize that he was trying to pull down his zipper, while his other hand was pushing up her skirt.

Suddenly he let go of it, and his hands came to frame her head, she saw his lips move, saw him saying something, maybe even shouting, he was shaking her shoulders, but it was as if she was watching the whole scene, not being actually a part of it. And then he was gone. The weight lifted from her body, but she didn't care, didn't really notice it. She thought she heard the door slam, but she was just lying there, staring at the light on the ceiling, her eyes unfocussed, her body beginning to shiver.

****

Angel entered his apartment about ten minutes after Buffy had reached hers, but what he found in his living room was unlike the one the blond had found in hers. Switching on the light, he froze as well, but for completely different reasons. The two people on the sofa jerked away from each other, and while Drusilla blushed deeply, Spike only glared at him, "Bloody hell, can't you knock before you rush in like some attack commando?"

The dark-haired man chuckled slightly and raised a brow, "That's hardly the way to describe my entrance. Besides this is my apartment and why didn't you go to your own room?" he asked, pointedly nodding towards the door in the right corner. "Hi, Drusilla," he finally acknowledged her woman's presence.

Her blush deepening, she quickly glanced at him, and then in the same manner looked back, staring at her hands. "Hi, Angel."

Spike clicked his tongue and tilted his head, "And may I ask where you came from at this late hour?"

"You may not," his friend shot back. "It's certainly none of your business." Giving Spike a last look, he smiled apologetically at Drusilla, "I'm sorry about this, I didn't mean to interrupt you. And don't feel uncomfortable, you're always welcome here."

"It's a bit awkward," she admitted shyly, "I've known you for so long, it's almost as if my big brother was finding me making out with my boyfriend."

Angel grinned, "Hardly. You won't hear any threats from me and I'm also not going to hit Spike."

The blond snorted, "As if you could."

His friend looked pointedly at his still highly colored cheek, but didn't comment. "Well, just ignore I came in," he said after a moment. "I'm tired and I need to sleep for-"

He couldn't finish his sentence when suddenly the phone rang. Exchanging a curious glance with Spike, he picked up the phone, "Hello?"

"A-Angel."

The voice was so small, so distant that he had problems to hear it at all and so he asked, "Hello? It's Angel here, who's there?" He could see Spike standing up and coming towards him, gesturing if the call was for him. The dark-haired man shook his head and strained to understand, startled when he heard a sob coming through the line. "Hello!" he called, suddenly alarmed.

"A-Angel."

This time the voice was clear and Angel could feel his heart dropping right through the bottom, "Buffy," he shouted through the phone, holding it in a crushing grip. From the corner of his eye he saw Drusilla getting up as well, alarm in her eyes. She put a hand on Spike's arm, and he looked at her shaking his head. "Buffy, talk to me. What's going on?"

"A-A-Angel," she managed to croak again, "Please," another sob tore from her throat, "help."

"Buffy!" he shouted, "Baby, are you hurt? Buffy! BUFFY!" Angel turned his head, looked at Spike with wild, fearful eyes, then tried again to talk to her, "Buffy," he asked again, gently this time, guessing she might be frightened or hurt. "Baby, talk to me."

"Please come," she whispered, then the phone fell from her hand.*

Angel couldn't remember ever having felt so helpless before. While Spike was busy breaking every speed limit that existed, Drusilla put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He was ready to scream. Buffy hadn't responded anymore after her last plead for him to come. He'd shouted, cried, whispered and begged, but she hadn't talked to him again.

Without thinking again, he'd grabbed his keys and headed for his car. Spike and Drusilla caught up with him after a moment, the blond insisting that Angel wasn't in any condition to drive a car.

And Angel was glad. He hadn't even realized that his whole body was trembling before he'd felt Drusilla fastening the seat belt for him. His mouth was dry, his heart was pounding in his ears and the most horrible images were running through his head. God, what had happened to her? She'd sounded so weak. It wasn't like Buffy to ask for help. The mere fact that she'd called him was turning his gut into knots.

God, let her be all right, he found himself praying. Please, let her be all right.

*

She didn't answer the door and frankly Angel hadn't expected her to. So exchanging a short glance with Spike the two men threw themselves at the door and it gave way without much resistance. "Buffy," Angel shouted, storming into her apartment, ignoring everything he'd ever learned about entering an apartment where he didn't know what he to expect, but panic was pounding through his body, pushing him forward. While Spike and Drusilla were checking the kitchen and the bedrooms, Angel went straight towards the living room and was about to switch on the light, when her voice stopped him.

"No, don't," she pleaded.

"Buffy," he said gently, stepping inside, trying to see something despite of the darkness. Then slowly as his eyes became accustomed to the lack of light, he could see her sitting on the ground, her back leaning against a chair, she was trying to cover her upper body with... His blood froze in his veins. "Buffy," he said, kneeling down in front of her, his breath coming in gasps, "Buffy," he repeated her name, not able to take in what his mind was telling him.

Her lips looked swollen, there was a bruise on her cheek, her skirt was torn, the shirt too, and she was desperately clutching it against her bare breasts. And if that hadn't been enough he could make out the silhouettes of her torn bra and panties lying on the ground. "Oh, God, Buffy," his voice cracked in his throat, he had no idea if he should touch her at the moment or not. He sensed movement at the door, and without turning said, "Spike, call the cops."

The blond was already pulling his phone from his pocket, when Buffy's voice shouted hoarsely, "No."

"Baby," Angel said gently, tentatively reaching out and putting a hand on her upraised knee, "You need to report it to the police. You have to report the person who..." his voice broke again, then with difficulty he continued, "did this to you, who... raped you... has to be punished." He heard Drusilla's and Spike's shocked gasps from the door but didn't care.

"He didn't rape me," Buffy whispered, slowly covering Angel's hand with hers.

"The hell he didn't," he bit out.

"No, he didn't," she insisted softly. "He tried. But he didn't finish. Angel," she inhaled sharply, "he... he was watching us," she said.

"Watching us?" he asked, not understanding, "Who was watching us?"

Now she couldn't hold back the sob anymore. Without thinking twice, Angel pulled her close and cradled her in his arms, holding her, stroking her, soothing her with words of nonsense, much the same way he'd done in the bathroom a few days ago.

"We're going to make some coffee," Drusilla announced and pulled Spike with her to give the couple some privacy.

The moment they were gone, Angel gently kissed Buffy's temple and asked again, "Who?"

"It was Riley." She felt his body stiffen, and heard the sharp intake of breath. "He was here when I came home. I forgot he still had a key. He never used it since he left and so," she shrugged. "He was drunk and angry. He'd obviously seen us in front of the Splash. He lost control and I was sure he was going to rape me."

She felt him tighten his hold on her, felt the shudders that were running through his body, "And then, when I thought it was going to happen, he let go of me. I... I don't know why, but he was gone."

"I really want to kill him," Angel admitted after a long silence.

"I know," she replied, snuggling into the healing warmth of his body. It was so good to be close to him. She needed him and trusted him completely. Nothing could've told him this more clearly. In a moment of utter vulnerability she had called him. Not Willow. Not Cordelia. Although they were women, she had called him and despite the horror he felt also humbled by her trust.

"I'm staying," he announced. "And I still think you should report him."

"I know," she said again, "but it won't change anything. I hate him," she told him, "don't get me wrong. I really do. I despise him, he is disgusting. But it would cost him his job and I'm not sure it would make him a better person. He isn't really a violent person." When she heard his sound of protest, she put her fingers over his mouth, "He hit me, once. And today... I don't know, he lost control. But he got it back. He didn't go through with it. I have no idea why, but I want to believe it's because he realized what he was doing was wrong. I was married to him for four years. I don't want to think of him as a rapist."

Angel considered her words, weighted them against his urge to have Riley punished for what he'd done to her, "Okay," he finally gave in. "But I'm staying."

"Yes," she replied. "Just hold me, Angel. Hold me," she whispered and then the tears finally fell.

Go to Part 15