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F E A T U R E D F I C O F T H E M O M E N T
INDEX
BRE'S ARCHIVE
AUTHOR'S ARCHIVE
INTERACTIVE
AUTHOR
SITE
 R O S E S W A T E R E D W I T H B L O O D S E R I E S B Y B R E P A R T T W O “You may have broken your hand.” Silence answered him. Angel sighed in frustration as he watched the girl before him. She didn’t respond as she stared at the floor to Angel’s right. She cradled her crippled hand against her chest as she pursed her lips and curled away from him where she sat on the counter top of the bathroom in between Angel’s arms as he leaned before her. Shaking his head, Angel turned around towards the bathtub that had grown lukewarm since he had left. Reaching into the warm water, he pulled the stopper and watched as it began to slowly drain. Sighing as he stood, he shook his arm. Then turned back around to face her. Buffy paid him no mind, instead choosing to stare at the floor as he moved around. Her hand ached painfully where it rested against her chest and she remembered his heavy bulk landing on it. She remembered him trying to gently wake her up and her lashing out at him in her self-induced rage. She remembered the desperate need to be free. The desperate need to make him pay for keeping her here when she could be with her uncle. They had struggled for what seemed like forever to Buffy’s exhausted mind before it all came to a screeching halt when he accidentally landed on her hand when she had kicked him. Buffy couldn’t remember every screaming so loud in her life as she literally felt the bones in her hand crack some more. She remembered Angel attempting to take her in his arms to comfort her when she let loose a string of curse words lost in her teary sobs, but she would have none of it. It took him twenty minutes to finally coerce her into letting him pick her up and settle her on the counter top. And there she sat. Her mind was numb. She felt numb. It was as if after everything she had had to go through in her life was small compared to the innocent pain of not being able to see a loved one on a special day. The death and murders that passed her eyes daily were nothing to her at that moment as she thought of what Giles would think when she didn’t show up, didn’t call, just didn’t do anything. Would he think she abandoned him... again? Would he simply give up on her in that moment in time? Think she really didn’t give a shit about him? Tears welled in her eyes as her train of thought led her to a place she didn’t want to go. Especially not in front of her captor. Buffy wanted to curl up and die when she thought about what he might do after her breakdown. What Spike might do. Shuddering, Buffy realized she had never felt as fragile and small as she did at that moment. Ignoring Angel’s odd stare, Buffy swallowed and attempted to clear her mind. She couldn’t do this right now. He would have to leave her some time. She would breakdown then. Buffy jerked as Angel touched her arm softy, calling her from her thoughts. She realized that the tub had drained and that it was once again filling with steaming water. But she didn’t take her eyes off the man before her. She didn’t trust him, not that she ever really did. “What?” she whispered. “I want you to take a bath,” he said in a gentle tone. His hand had never left her arm and she moved it out of his reach. He rolled his eyes out of habit and was about to snap at her before he realized something and Buffy furrowed her eyebrows as he once again changed before her. His eyes grew softer and his entire demeanor and posture seemed intent upon a thing she couldn’t identify. It only made her more weary. Moments passed as they stared at each other and Buffy realized that he wasn’t going to leave. But before she could order him out, his hand moved towards her again and her eyes switched to watch it as it touched her once more, his fingertips sending chills down her spine. They disappeared under the shirt sleeve as the other moved to lift it off her head. Buffy barely moved as his hands worked. She was stunned into silence. Why was he being so gentle? So soft with her, like she would break? What had happened to the harsh man she had met only what seemed a few hours ago? Who had screwed her against a stone wall as she hung from it by chains? Buffy felt her body instinctively lean into his touch as both his hands were suddenly under her shirt, running up her back. She swallowed hard, leaning into his chest as he stepped between her legs. Her broken hand rested against the counter top at a weird angle, but neither paid any mind to it as they were lost in the other. The running water in the tub seemed to add a surreal background music as Buffy pushed her face into his neck as he moved to cradle her in his arms. Buffy shivered as she realized that she felt... secure. Safe. Like nothing in the world could get to her, let alone hurt her. And she felt a stab of pain as she realized how very untrue that was because he was one of the very sources of it. Buffy pushed against his chest with her good hand, shaking her head in protest. But he would have none of it. He stepped away, but only enough to begin to take the shirt she wore off before she pushed harder. She heard something escape from low in his throat, something that sounded like it was caught between a groan and a growl. She glared at him with bloodshot eyes. “I can do it myself,” she said, her voice sounding annoyed, yet utterly helpless even to her own ears. And she hated it. This wasn’t her. What had happened to the strong assassin she had become under Spike’s watchful eye? Where was the woman who could easily kick this guy’s ass into the next room? Buffy found that she was nowhere to be found and she felt even more lost. Angel glared right back into her red eyes. He wasn’t going to be intimidated. Not by her. He gripped her elbow in his hand and easily kept her still. He could tell that her body was too weak to put up a fight from the drugs, the lack of decent food and sleep. Also from her little outraged scene earlier. She wouldn’t be able to do anything and he allowed himself a moment to revel. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Buffy hissed as she moved to take his hand off her elbow. She was too late as his hard grip and her prying fingers caused her broken hand to rock hard against the hard counter and she cried out in pain, her body instantly moving into a fetal position to protect herself from anymore pain. But once again Angel stopped her and she whimpered in her obvious helplessness. “Calm down,” Angel said in a strong voice and Buffy shook her head, but didn’t move. She felt his bruising grip lighten. “I’m not leaving.” “I can-“ “I don’t give a flying fuck what the hell you can do by yourself. I’m not leaving and that’s final.” Buffy looked down, unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t in any condition to get up and fight. She was exhausted and she felt her stomach growl in hunger. Hadn’t she just ate? Ignoring the throbbing pain in her hand to the best degree she could, Buffy allowed him to slowly undress her, ever mindful of the fact that her hand was in need of medical attention. She didn’t say a word as he removed her skirt. He turned back around to turn off the water and she looked up as he once again added all the oils and bubbles. She had a fleeting thought about running to the door, fleeing for her life, but remembered that she was naked, her hand was broken and he was much stronger and less tired than she was at the moment. Buffy gasped as he turned and picked her up into his arms as if she was light as a feather. He had rolled his sleeves up as high as his shirt would allow and she absently noted that he was most likely going to be getting very wet. Well, he deserves it for taking me into his little dungeon and then bathing me as if I were his precious girlfriend. Bastard. Buffy hissed as he settled her into the steaming water, her skin reacting in chills and rising goose bumps. She felt, rather than saw, her skin redden with irritation as she leaned against the back of the large tub, her entire body swallowed by hot water. “Too hot,” she whimpered, not noticing that he had left her broken hand hanging on the opposite side of the tub. The blood she had accumulated from her various scratches had dried already and she felt the hot air soothing them a bit. “You’ll get used to it,” Angel said absently as he raised his wet hands to lift her long hair out of the water and drape out of it. Buffy’s eyes closed as her body relaxed into the water as it soothed her muscles and cleaned away at the dirt covering her. She wouldn’t admit to him how absolutely wonderful it felt to be in the heat. Several minutes passed as Angel gently washed away at the grime that coated her body with a large loofah and some soap that smelled absolutely delicious. Her eyes never opened as he softly asked her to sit up so he could scrub her back, then proceeded to wash her hair before washing it out. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her tone discernable as she once again settled down in the cooling water. She opened her eyes in time to see Angel shrug, but not answer. She watched as his face shuttered her out from his inner thinking and she wondered what the hell was going on. “What happened downstairs?” he asked softly, not meeting her eyes as he reached under the water to scrub her skin with the loofah, his skin never touching hers. Buffy closed her eyes as his words echoed in her mind. Oh, what had happened. It was as if his seemingly innocent question had unlocked the box in her brain where she had locked all her thoughts. A tidal wave of pain attacked her and she felt tears rise in her eyes. Everything was right with the world only a few short days ago. “None of your business,” she said coldly. A few tense moments later and Buffy felt something in her snap. She whipped her head around to meet his eyes and found him staring at her. She glared at him. All motion stopped except for her lips. “Why are you doing this to me? Why am I here?” “You’re going to have to take that up with Spike,” Angel said in a neutral tone, resuming his actions once more, breaking eye contact. “I’m only helping him out as a favor.” “A favor?” Buffy spat, jerking her leg away from his hand. He sighed and looked up to meet her eyes. “Is that what you call this? Is that how you two operate? This is a favor?” Angel stared at her and Buffy growled in frustration before attempting to stand up. She unthinkingly moved to use both her hands to balance herself before she realized her mistake too late. Buffy cried out brokenly as she slipped back into the tub of water and Angel instantly moved to stop her from sinking underneath. Before she could stop them, she felt tears running down her face and she looked down into the water where she saw the blood on her hand melting away and Angel’s fingers gripping her sides. “I just want to go home,” Buffy whispered sadly, her shoulders shaking. “I just want to see Giles.” Angel had no idea what she was whispering about. It was a basic rule between him and Spike. He never knew more than he should about the girls he kept for his stepbrother. It mostly caused too much unneeded trouble and Angel knew he would regret it when he made a mental note to figure out who Giles was. He ignored the streak of jealousy at the whisper of another man. He knew now wasn’t the time and he also knew that this was not the kind of girl he should be getting hooked on. “Shhh,” he cooed as her tears subsided after a long moment, situating her as he moved to take her mangled hand into his own. “I’m going to wash the blood off, then I’ll call a doctor to come look at it.” Buffy sniffled and closed her eyes, wishing that she could jerk her hand away and crawl inside herself. But she was too scared of the sure pain that would take over her. And a part of her didn’t want his gentle hands to stop touching her. She felt sick. Ten minutes later, Buffy was standing out of the tub, watching it drain with a towel wrapped around her. Her blonde hair with small streaks of red clung wetly to her back and she couldn’t tell whether her face was wet from the tears or the water she had recently been in. Angel dried her off best he could, ignoring the fact that the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was standing before him, naked. Now wasn’t the time. “I’ll be back,” he said into her ear as he squeezed her hair in the towel, sucking all the excess water into the cotton. Buffy didn’t move as he left her standing naked in the middle of the bathroom, her eyes never leaving the tub. The water had drained and she saw traces of dirt on the white walls. It would have to be cleaned. She felt him behind her. Buffy felt the hair on the back of her neck rise as he touched her lower back. “Raise your arms,” he whispered in her ear and she did as he asked. Ever mindful of her hand, he gently slipped the tank top over her arms and head, down to cover her chest. He placed his hand on her hips to turn her around to face him. He bent down before her and told her to lift her legs as he slid on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Standing to face her, he led her to the counter. She stared at herself in the mirror. She looked tired and... dead. She saw Angel behind her out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at her and she couldn’t read his eyes. She looked at him through the mirror and he met her gaze, lifting a brush. He was then focused on brushing out her hair, gently untangling it and stopping when he saw her wince in pain as he pulled too hard. Before she knew it, she was being led back into the bedroom. She saw that the sheets had been changed as they stared at her in their dark setting. There was no blood nor dirt and she noted that the drapes to her window were closed tightly so no light could shine through. Only the bathroom light was guiding them as he motioned for her to sit, then to lay back. She faintly heard him tell her that he was going to go call a doctor to come up and take care of her hand. She didn’t respond and he moved to close the door to the bathroom so only a sliver of light was there. He then proceeded to leave. She heard him lock it from the other side before she slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Angel saw the doctor out before returning to his office. It had taken him an hour to find a trustworthy doctor, then another for him to come out to his mansion and take care of Buffy. It seemed she had broken three bones and fractured two others, most likely from when he had landed on it, and he had put it in a temporary cast until she could come in and get a more permanent one. Buffy never stirred, let alone woke upon his inspection. He also gave Angel some pain pills for her to take, never asking once what had happened. Angel was glad, not feeling up to covering his tracks. He faintly remembered asking Finn to call Spike and realized that the peroxide blonde had yet to show, that is if Finn had actually called. Feeling a stab of fatigue run through his body, Angel called up Spike’s personal cell phone and left a short message. “Spike, we need to talk. It’s about Buffy Summers. Get over here as soon as you can.” Angel then proceeded to grab a bottle of liquor and turn on one of the small screens that littered his office as he watched the blonde sleep, his mind desperate to escape.
Buffy rolled over, pressing her face into the soft pillow that lay beside her, breathing in deeply. It was smelt like fabric softener and a trace of lavender. Her mind allowed her that small moment of reprieve before she remembered exactly where she was and what had happened before she had fallen asleep. Buffy sat up quickly and brought her hand to her forehead as a wave of dizziness attacked her. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and saw the white cast on her arm and realized that the pain she had experienced last night was no longer there. Buffy tested the strength of the cast in her other hand, realizing that it was something temporary and that she would have to go to a doctor to get the real thing. And that meant she wouldn’t be punching anyone in the near future. Buffy threw back the light blanket that had been thrown over her sometime when she had been sleeping. Crawling off the large bed, Buffy immediately ran to the door. Reaching out with her immobile hand, she shook her head and knew that she would have to get used to the foreignness of using her left hand. Jerking on the door knob, Buffy groaned in disappointment as the lock didn’t budge. Ignoring the rumbling in her stomach and instead focusing on her calling bladder, Buffy entered the large bathroom where she had just been a matter of hours ago. Kneeling down, Buffy opened the cabinets and began rummaging through the items she spotted in there. She frowned as she realized that there was enough feminine items there to last her at least four months. Shaking off the unease, she stood and gave into nature as she sat on the toilet. Spotting the blood on the side of the tub farthest from her as she stood, Buffy felt her stomach turn as she flushed the toilet and ran out of there. She refused to allow herself to think about Angel’s odd behavior from the man who built himself on being ruthless and unforgiving, the one she had read about in the file her deceiving boss had delivered to her. She remembered with longing standing outside the club that night, remembered the freedom. Sighing deeply, Buffy looked around at her surroundings. The room was definitely drab. There was no personality. It had only the most basic of items. Furrowing her brow at the large dresser and wondering what was in it, she approached it. She found that the top four drawers contained simple clothing such as sweats and t-shirts for her to wear and the fourth down was completely filled with lingerie of all degrees. Everything she could possibly think of. Shutting the drawer in disgust, Buffy tried the last two and found them locked shut. Punching it with the side of her fist, Buffy growled in frustration. Standing up, she approached the bed and laid back on it. Rolling onto her side, she closed her eyes in hopes of once more surrendering herself to sleep when she heard the lock on the door becoming unfastened and the door swinging open. Buffy shot up from where she lay and stared as Angel and a large guard, the one who had been witness to her breakdown, entered. Ignoring the once again leering man dressed in black, Buffy focused instead on Angel. She glared at him as he sat down on the bed. “You’re awake,” he said calmly and Buffy remembered the uttered words before he had taken her against the wall. She instinctively curled in on herself at the memory. “Yes,” she said blandly, refusing to elaborate on her state any further. He nodded to the other man and he immediately left. Then she focused on the man before her. He looked terrible, but nonetheless beautiful. Feeling the urge to smack herself for thinking such a thing, especially in her situation, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and his frazzled appearance underneath the wet hair and the changed clothes. Neither spoke for several minutes and Buffy shifted under his heavy gaze, turning her head to look anywhere but him. She heard him sigh. “I asked Spike to come up and talk to you. He should be here within the hour.” Buffy’s head snapped to look at him. “I have no desire to see that bastard, right now... if you don’t mind,” she said angrily, narrowing her eyes at him. “I can barely stand you. I don’t think I would be able to control myself if I saw that asshole.” Angel rolled his eyes, turning his gaze cold. “You really don’t have a choice in the matter.” He stood and moved to the table where Finn had set down a tray with breakfast, a small container of pills and a bottle of water. Picking it up, he set it on the bed, took out a pill and handed it to her with the bottle of water. She stared at it like it was poison and scooted further away from him. He looked at her like she was crazy. “Do you honestly think that I would poison you right now?” “I don’t know,” Buffy shot back. “It’s not like I have any real purpose for you jerks anymore.” “Oh, Jesus Christ, Buffy. Knock it off and take the goddamn pill before I force it down your throat. It’s going to help your hand.” She met his gaze defiantly and neither budged until Angel grabbed her left hand and forced the pill in between her fingers, throwing the water bottle against her thigh roughly. “Fine,” he snapped. “Suffer. That’s your problem. Not mine.” Buffy clenched her jaw and watched as he stood and crossed his arms, watching her. Looking down at the pill in her small hand, she decided that if it was poison or something equally bad, it couldn’t be worse than sitting in the bedroom, having to endure whatever the hell she was going to go through. Pursing her lips, Buffy brought the white pill to her mouth and opened the water bottle, forcing it down with a quick swallow of the water. Angel grinned in satisfaction and amusement. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked mockingly and Buffy flipped him off. He smirked. She realized that he had once again done a complete one-eighty from the man she had seen just a few moments ago. She briefly wondered if she had gone along without question, would he be sitting there somber and quiet as before, with a strange sadness in his eyes. “Now eat,” Angel commanded. “Spike will be coming up to talk to you, whether you like it or not. There, whether you want to believe it or not, is a reason for you being here. Not eat the food and calm the fuck down while you do it.” “Who the fuck-“ “Shh!” Angel snapped. “Don’t you ever stop talking?” “I might say the same damn thing to you, you prick,” Buffy yelled. Her voice lowered. “And I’m not hungry.” “Yeah, okay. Starve to death. That’ll do wonders for your little stick-like figure,” Angel snarked, his eyes traveling down her body. Despite the words that were meant to wound, he knew that he was aroused at the sight of her sleep rumpled body curled in on herself. He saw her heavy breasts clearly through the tight tank top and he desperately wanted... no, he couldn’t want. Not now anyway. Buffy opened her mouth in shock and offense as she stared at him. He smirked at her and she shrieked in anger, suddenly standing and hurling herself at him. Angel was surprised by her obvious reaction and didn’t see her flying figure until too late, his arms coming up to catch her. They both tumbled to the floor in a graceless heap, Angel’s arms instantly coming up on instinct to protect his face as she threw her arm back to punch him. But she was too slow and he snatched her arm before she could, bringing her down on his chest as she straddled him. She burst into tears as she spoke, the droplets raining down her face in rivers and landing on his shirt. “Goddamn you!” she screamed against his shoulder as she struggled against his hold, her broken hand lying limp on the floor, the little mobility left in her fingers allowing them to shake. “I hate you! I hate you... let me go... please...” Angel felt his heart twist at her whispered words as her warm tears dropped down on him. His mind began a downward spiral as memories assaulted him and he whispered soft words in her ear in an attempt to comfort her. “Please don’t cry... don’t cry... it’s okay.” Buffy sucked in a deep breath, inhaling his comforting scent, not noticing his arms cradling her against him instead of restraining. She hiccuped once before she felt his soft kisses against her temple starting a soft trail down her face. She lifted her head to allow him more contact and sighed softly as he kissed her wet cheek before finding her lips. The kiss was the softest she’d ever tasted and she whimpered against his mouth, pushing against him more insistently. Keeping the kiss gentle, yet flaring with a reborn passion, Angel cradled her head between his hands as he gently licked along the seam of her closed lips. He felt her reluctantly open her mouth. Buffy couldn’t believe the sudden lust and need that roared through her body as he kissed her so softly. Hadn’t she been mad at him? She couldn’t remember her reasoning instead choosing to go along with whatever he planned. She slowly began returning his kiss, her fears and pain from earlier seeming to disappear into the back of her mind. She didn’t think about the fact that she was going to miss her uncle, she had broken her hand and she was being cradled within her captor’s embrace. Nothing registered with Buffy, too caught up in the physical rush she got whenever she touched him. Both were content to kiss the other as they reveled in the other’s presence. Something was happening and neither wanted to acknowledge it, yet wanted to feel it. Confusion settled on Buffy’s chest as doubt and worry hovered above Angel’s head. Neither one of them made a move to touch the other past their lips. Both were oddly content as they burned each other’s pains, worries and anger into the other with the simple kiss. Until Spike barged in, his loud knocking having failed to capture their attention. He picked Buffy up off of his stepbrother and threw her onto the bed, narrowly missing the tray of food, but knocking it off the bed with the force of the landing, crashing against the hard floor. Curses flowed from Spike’s mouth as he hauled Angel to his feet and shoved him out the door, leaving Buffy by herself, who stared at the door before wrapping her arms around her middle and started crying. Never had she felt so open and fragile as she did at that moment and she hated it, yet couldn’t get enough of the rush she felt whenever within that man’s arms.
l be kind, rewind l back to top l
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