Angel sat wearily down on the edge of his bed.  Tonight, he’d walked the deserted streets of Sunnydale the way he did every night, watching, lurking, and making sure that the forces of darkness didn’t get the upper hand in the battle between good and evil that seemed to play out in this town.  He had patrolled the early evening hours with Buffy but she was mortal and needed sleep.  After seeing her off, he had continued the patrol until he ended his night across from the house where Willow Rosenburg slept the sleep of the innocent.

He didn’t question why he ended his patrols at that one spot. Truthfully, he didn’t think much about it beyond the fact that something within Willow’s eyes demanded his protection.  It was not the first night he’d stood in the shadows looking up at her room.  He freely acknowledged that it wouldn’t be his last.

But that was hours ago and now dawn was approaching.  Slipping out of his clothes Angel crawled naked between the black satin sheets of his bed.  And in that space between awareness and sleep, Angel thought he heard the sound of faint laughter – a sound of joy, like a thousand tinkling silver bells all chiming together.

*****

In her bed across town, Willow turned restlessly in her sleep, her covers suddenly hot and confining across her body.

*****

He was in the Bronze, the heat of a hundred human bodies washing against him, surrounded by the beat of their hearts as they laughed and danced and loved, following out the motions of the living.  It was why he came here, to pretend for just a moment that he belonged in that moving throng of life.  Only he didn’t belong and he knew the pretending for the sham that it was.  And yet, even knowing that, still he came and stood in the hidden places, just one more shadow among the ones already there.

From the niche in which he stood he could see her.  She sat at the table alone as she often did when he watched.  Beyond her he could see Buffy dancing with Xander.  He frowned slightly as his eyes lingered on the Slayer.  He loved her, would always love her but that love was a double-edged sword.  It brought both happiness and terrible pain.  Vampire and Slayer, they were something that was never meant to be.  Even the sight of her across the room was enough to make the demon within him slam against the caged walls of his will, screaming its rage at her life, clawing to break free and rend her limb from limb, to bathe in her blood.

And then his gaze moved back to Willow and the demon stilled, cowering down in its cage in an effort to not draw attention to itself.  Loving Buffy was the adrenaline rush of walking the edge of a cliff.  Willow warmed his soul and made him remember lying in sweet green grass under the warmth of an almost forgotten sun.

Threading his way through the crowd of the club he stood beside her until she noticed him.

“Angel, um, hi.”  He noticed that she still couldn’t meet his eyes.

He breathed deeply of her scent, pulling it in until his senses swam with jasmine and Willow.  He had only meant to say hello.  The words that fell from his lips surprised him as much as they did her.  “Dark Lady.”

She paled at his whispered words, her sudden fear showing clear in her luminous green eyes.  She turned in his direction, meeting his own eyes for the first time in weeks.  He could have staked himself for being the one to put that look of fear on her face but the deed was done.  “We need to talk Willow.”

Before she had a chance to reply, they were interrupted by the return of Buffy and Xander.  Their loud chatter filling the stricken silence at the small table.

“Hey Wills, you aren’t looking so hot.  You feeling ok?”

Angel’s eyes never left Willow’s as he answered Buffy’s question. “Willow is feeling a bit flushed.  I thought I’d walk her home.”

Buffy reached up to pat Willow’s hand in sympathy.  “Hey, not a problem.  We’ll take you home and I can go on patrol.  It’ll make the Giles-man happy.”

Xander stood beside Willow shifting uneasily, one hand half raised toward her.  Angel knew exactly how he felt – touch her or not touch her.  The conflict showed clearly on the boy’s face.  If Angel hadn’t had the sudden urge to warn him off with a growl, he might have felt some sympathy for Xander’s dilemma.

Willow put her head down, breaking his connect to her.  “Oh, no Buffy, don’t do that.  This was your free night out.   I’m just sorta feeling icky.  Angel can walk me, then you and Xander can stay.”  He could hear the resignation in her voice and it hurt him more than he liked to admit.  She didn’t really want to talk to him.

“Are you sure?  We can leave.”

Willow turned a pale imitation of her normal grin in Buffy and Xander’s direction.  “I’m sure.  You guys stay and have fun.  A-Angel, can walk me home and keep the big nasties away.”

He wondered if he was the only one who heard her stumble over his name.

Buffy didn’t sound convinced.  “Well, if you are sure.”

Willow nodded.

Buffy still seemed reluctant to leave her, torn between her loyalty to her friend and the lure of her night of freedom from the pressures of the Slaying.  In the end, the desire to be a just another teenager won out.  Catching his arm, she gave him a mock-stern look.  “Angel, take care of her, will ya?”  Then she grabbed Xander’s hand and pulled him back out on the dance floor.

He held out his hand, “Shall we, milady?”

He thought for one moment that she would refuse him and then he saw her shoulders square, her so-called resolve face slipping into place. She took his hand and let him lead her out the door of the Bronze into the warm night air.  They walked in silence to her house and he wondered what thoughts danced behind her eyes but he didn’t ask, giving her time.  All too quickly they stood in her doorway and as the key turned in the lock, she didn’t even hesitate.  “Come in, Angel.”

He followed her into the dark house, feeling the emptiness around him.  They were alone.  Finally.  He found her standing in the living room and for the first time he caught the smell of true fear from her and was ashamed as man and demon both savored that nervousness.  They stood together in silence, two sets of thoughts and emotions held tight behind almost identical masks.

Willow broke first.  “I’m sorry Angel.  I didn’t mean to pull you in.”  She shook her head.  “It was only suppose to be a simple blessing.  The goddess had other ideas.”  She stopped then and bit her lip, swallowing hard.  “But that isn’t really an excuse.  My fault.  I’m sorry.”

She looked so miserable standing there and he was a complete bastard for forcing her to confront this.  He could see the regret, embarrassment, and pain in her eyes.  He wondered if the pain she felt was because she thought he was upset or because of him.  Was the regret because she’d lost her innocence to a demon?  Was her embarrassment because she’d been under another’s control and had made love to him?  Doubt and guilt, his constant companions for these last 100 years, assaulted him anew.  What right did he have to seek out the peace of her touch?  Seeing the glimmering of tears in her eyes, he knew he was truly damned.  Without a word he turned to leave.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” her voice catching on his name, stopping him mid-step.

He didn’t move except to close his eyes, not wanting to see her disgust but unable to hold back the words.  “I’m not.”

He heard the sharp indrawn breath at his words, and heard the pounding of her heart increase.  But the warm hand that came to rest gently on his arm took him by surprise.

“What did you say?”

There was fear and disbelief and something else in her voice that he desperately wanted to believe in, but he heard no contempt.  With that realization a huge weight seemed to melt from his shoulders.  He should have known better.  Willow had always accepted him for the man he was, not necessarily as the vampire he’d become.  He opened his eyes and turned slightly so she stood in front of him, close enough that he could feel the heat of her body against his own.  “I said I wasn’t sorry.”

He reached up to touch her but stopped, his fingers hovering over the curve of her cheek.  He wanted to touch her so badly it rivaled the bloodlust in its compulsion but she’d not given him permission.  “I remembered everything the next day.  I wasn’t going to tell you.”  He shook his head, still not sure what had possessed him to address her as “Dark Lady” in the Bronze.  “I didn’t mean to tell you.”  And then the other truths that he had hid within himself came tumbling forth out of his control.  “I close my eyes to sleep and I see you there.  The smell of your perfume haunts me.  The sight of firelight on your skin is burned into my memory.”  He stopped and drew a ragged breath, taking in air he didn’t need, the reflexes of life still holding sway. “Your touch soothes the demon.”

The room was shadowy but vampire sight had no problem discerning the blush upon her skin.  Her head shook in denial.  “But that was Her.  I’m not . . . I’m just Willow.”

He skimmed her with his fingertips, still not touching.  He leaned down until his lips almost brushed hers.  “No, not *just* Willow but Willow – mysterious, intriguing, and beautiful.”  And then permission or not, he leaned forward the inches that separated them and touched his lips to hers.

As his lips caressed hers he caught her whimper, but rejoiced when she held the delicate contact.  Very gently he brushed her lips with the tip of his tongue, begging silently.  He thought his knees would buckle beneath him when she opened her mouth.  That small invitation was all he needed.  Kissing her hard, he thrust his tongue deep.

He’d wanted this to be slow lovemaking but just the taste of her mouth drove him wild and he could feel his control unravel.  He kissed her with a hunger that more than hinted at the desperation in his soul.  His hands, when they came up to cup the back of her head, both held her steady and held her prisoner.  The part of him that cried “Monster!” was sure that she would struggle and run from him.  But the struggle never came as Willow clung to his broad shoulders and arched her body closer to his.

Abruptly he tore his mouth from hers while she staggered in his embrace.  Crushing her to him, he let her feel the evidence of his desire.  He needed her to understand what he wanted, what he intended to do.  He waited for her to pull back but still she made no protest as she trembled in his embrace.  A small gleam of hope caught in Angel’s heart.

“Willow, I want you,” he whispered against her ear.  He nibbled its delicate edge with his lips.  “Oh God,” he groaned, “this is so far past ‘want.’  I *need* you.  But I’m me -- Angel.  Not some forest god brought to life with moonlight and magic.  We had no control the last time.  I need to know that this time Willow, you are with *me.*  I need you to know that.  I need you to understand . . .”

She stopped him with a touch of fingertips to his lips.  “I know you, Angel.  I know you.”

The words spun through him like bright shards of colored light illuminating the dark corners of his soul and sending the demon scurrying further back from his consciousness.   Sweeping her up, he laughed at her startled shriek of protest but she quickly settled down in his arms.  Her own arms twining around his neck as she used her new height and position to lick, nibble, and place soft kisses along the side of his face and neck.

He brought her to her room but didn’t release her immediately, content for the moment to simply hold her in his arms and kiss her.  His tongue slid playfully against hers as each sought to take control of the kiss.  In the end he conceded victory to Willow, but it was a sweet surrender.  Sliding her down his body, he reveled in the feel of her soft body against his own and wondered if he had the strength to do this the way he wanted.  Seizing firm command of his rampaging emotions, he brought himself under control.  Taking a careful step away from her, he put much needed distance between them.  Only then did he meet her eyes.

She reached up to him but he caught her small hands in his bringing them back to her sides.  “Please let me do this.  Let me love you, Willow.”  She nodded slowly her eyes fixed on his.  Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he traced the curve of her cheek and down her neck until his hand hovered over the first button of the shirt she wore.  With a twist of his wrist, he slipped it free.

“I’ve dreamt of this, lying in my cold bed.  Of you, standing before me.”  Another button slipped from its hole.  “I’ve dreamt of undressing you, of laying you back on the bed, your hair spread around you like a red halo.”  He paused to slip another button free.  He could feel her heart pounding, her quick breaths making the edges of the partially undone shirt rise and fall.  “I’ve dreamt of running my hands across the silk of your skin.  Of running my tongue over your nipples until they are hard and aching and you are flushed with desire.”

He stopped and fingered a button, rubbing it gently between his thumb and forefinger, knowing that she was watching his every move as he gently twisted the small piece of plastic.  He almost smiled when she let out a held breath when he finally freed the button.  “I’ve dreamt, Willow.  I’ve dreamt of exploring every inch of you. Of tasting you until the lust for you outweighs the bloodlust.”  He lowered his hand to the last remaining button.  “And I’ve dreamt of burying myself in the heat of your body, of your flesh closed tight around mine.  But most of all I’ve dreamt of hearing you cry out your release with my name on your lips.” With his last words, he ripped the button free.

He slid his hands across the delicate bones of her shoulders and down her arms, taking the shirt with him.  She lifted her hands to his shirt, but he once again caught her.  Bringing them to his lips he kissed each knuckle then  turned her hands over to place a kiss within each palm.  He could feel the tension in her beneath his lips.  Hiding his grin, he decided it was time to speed things up.

Pacing around her, he trailed a finger across her skin, watching the goosebumps following in the wake of his touch.  He circled her once, feeling very much the predator that he was.  He acknowledged to himself that even before he’d been made a vampire he hadn’t been a good man.  He’d been a self-absorbed young layabout with just enough position and wealth to spend his days in idle amusement.  Wine, women, and gaming had been his main diversions.  Even alive, he wouldn’t have deserved this young woman in front of him.  Her kind had always been beyond his reach.  Yet, here she was, the fire burning in her kindled by his presence, stoked by his touch.  There was a part of him that couldn’t believe his luck.

He stopped his circling to stand behind her.  Smoothing his thumbs along her spine, he watched her arch into his touch like a cat, lithe and sensuous.  Moving up her back, he released the catch of her bra and slid the straps off her shoulders so it could join the shirt at her feet.

Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on each shoulder while his hands explored the expanse of her back from her sharp shoulder blades down her spine to where the waist of her skirt stopped his touch.  The zipper proved little hindrance.  His hands slowly exposed her to his seeking eyes as he pushed her skirt and panties down past her hips.

She tried to turn then, but he stopped her.  “No, don’t turn around.”

He could hear the nervousness in her voice.  “Angel, I can’t see you.”

Brushing her hair to the side, he planted a kiss behind her ear.  “I know.” His voice was dark and smoky as he continued.  “You can’t see me.  You can’t touch me.  But I can see you, touch you, pleasure you.”

She gasped softly at his words.  “Angel . .”  Her voice trembled.

“Ssshhh,” he soothed.  “Trust me.”

A heartbeat in time, then two, and he felt her relax against him, giving him her trust.  But her nervousness reminded him forcibly that Willow was still an innocent and that he had to tread lightly or he would scare her.  His years as both rake and demon had refined his sexual appetites.  He had long ago discovered exactly what he liked and the myriad ways in which to find his pleasure.  Willow had one night and she’d been under the control of a goddess bent on reenacting a fertility rite.  Physical virginity may have been lost but she was still a virgin.  He had to be careful to remember that, or he could easily overwhelm her.  He would not abuse the trust she’d given him.

Moving slowly, so as not to startle her, he slid his arms around her waist.  Tracing her ribs with just his fingertips he felt her relax even further with a soft sigh.  Only then did he move his fingers up, brushing the soft underside of her breasts, teasing her with his touch.

“Like the finest silk,” he murmured against her shoulder.

She made an inarticulate noise at his touch, somewhere between a gasp and a groan.  Angel thrilled to that sound.  So much responsiveness and passion hidden below the surface of her shyness.  A primitive part of him delighted, claiming that fire, and her, as his alone.

Reaching higher, he pulled her closer so that she fit tightly between his legs.  His hard shaft resting snug against her backside.  His hands traced lazy circles across her breasts, causing her to arch into his touch seeking more of the pleasure he could give her.  He tormented her with his nearness to her enlarged nipples but never quite got close enough to the straining tips.

She arched her back again, thrusting into his hands while he teased and tantalized her.  He chuckled when she growled softly in frustration.  Sliding one hand up, he finally closed his fingers around one rosy tip, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, tugging gently.  The other hand traveled downward, writing his name across the soft skin of her stomach only to dip lower to brush against dark red curls.

Willow sucked in a sharp breath as he inserted a single finger into her softness, circling and stroking with the same rhythm that the fingers on her breast followed.  While his fingers played upon her body he used his agile tongue to lave the skin of her shoulder and neck.  It didn’t take long before her gasps for air increased to steady pants.  He could feel her body tensing.  The moisture beneath his stroking fingers grew heavier as the pleasure built within her.  Her hands tight around his forearms, she braced herself within in arms until he was the only thing holding her up.

“Angel!”

The fine trembling of her body became violent tremors as the leading edge of her orgasm consumed her.  Only then did he plunge the finger he’d teased her with into her body.  Using the pad of his thumb, he pressed hard on the small nub and carried her through the waves of pleasure until she sank down heavily into his arms.

Her head rested against his shoulder as she fought to catch her breath.  “Not fair.  Not fair, Angel.”

Tenderly picking her up, he carried her to the bed.  Laying her down against the pillows he brushed her hair back from her flushed face.  “I don’t play fair, Willow.”

Backing up, he moved until he stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze on her flushed body as she lay sprawled across the bed.  She looked like a woman well pleasured and so much like the fantasies that had haunted him that he didn’t want to believe she was real.  Then his fantasy opened passion-glazed eyes and held out her arms to him in unmistakable welcome.  He could have come at that moment from the look in her eyes alone.

“Come to me, Angel.  I want to touch you now.”

He gave her a wolf’s grin -- all teeth and dark promise.  “I am yours, Willow.”

He stripped for her then, much like he’d stripped her earlier.  Slow removal of buttons, each undone piece of plastic revealing a little bit more skin to her hungry gaze until with a shrug he sent it to join her clothes.  He bent to remove his shoes and socks only to straighten to find Willow kneeling on the edge of her bed, directly in front of him.  He moaned as her hot hands ran up his chest.

“I told you I wanted to touch you.”   There was a note of sensual playfulness in her voice that sent a surge of electricity straight through him.  She brushed her thumbs over his nipples until the small nubs stood erect.  Only then did she move to trace the muscles of his chest and shoulders with her fingers.  He threw back his head at the sensation and was caught unaware when her hot mouth replaced her questing fingers.

“Willow!”

She chuckled against him and bit down, her teeth scraping the skin over his heart.

She stroked him through the cloth of his pants.  The sound she made almost a purr to Angel’s ears.  Then deft fingers were releasing zipper and buttons.  Pants and boxers were replaced by warm hands that cradled him gently.  He kicked both pants and boxers free.  Looking down, he caught her studying him intently, her lower lip caught between small white teeth.  The sight of her intense scrutiny caused his erection to twitch in her grasp.  She grinned suddenly.  The bolt of pleasure that shot through him at that sight scared him with its intensity.

Throwing open his arms in invitation, he challenged her, curious as to what she would do.  ‘I believe you wanted to touch me.”

A low hum was his only answer as she shifted her grip on him, moving her thumb up to caress the tip of him in a gentle circular motion.

“You are so soft, Angel.”

Those words, combined with her touch, sent another jolt through him and he thrust his hips forward.  She hummed that throaty purr again at his involuntary movements.  Whether from amusement or satisfaction, he couldn’t tell.

Trailing the fingers of one hand down his shaft, she stroked him.  His movements and soft moans encouraged her.  On her next stroke, the pressure was a little harder, her touch a little more sure.

“Yes, Willow.”

The words were all she needed as she grasped his entire length.  Sheathing him in one hand and massaging gently she rubbed the palm of her other hand around the tip.  He shuddered at the sensation, feeling his control weakening.  Grasping her hands, he stopped her.  The pout she sent in his direction made him feel as if he’d taken a favorite toy away from a child.  He chuckled at the thought.

Bending, he placed a kiss on those pouting lips.  “No more of that, Willow.  There are so many other things I want to do to you.”

Hands on her shoulders he forced her back, climbing up on the bed to stalk her movements until he sank between her open thighs, fitting himself within the cradle she created.  He bent to latch onto one upturned nipple, the feel of his mouth pulling a deep groan from her.  He decided that he liked that sound and worked for a few minutes to pull it from her again.

Her hands were beginning to move over him restlessly, pulling him towards her, while her eyes begged for what only he could give her.  He couldn’t seem to look away from those bottomless green eyes.  Drowning, he lifted himself up to position himself and then bore down.  She was narrow and virgin tight and so hot he thought she’d incinerate him.  And he didn’t care.

Capturing her lips in a fierce kiss he drove into her as Willow moaned against his mouth.  He was sheathed to the hilt in her body, the only place he’d longed to be since the night of the Beltane ritual.  A low growl of satisfaction rolled through him.  He’d never in his wildest dreams imagined it would feel this good.

They stayed like that for a few moments until she moved beneath him.  Drawing one of her legs up he nestled it above his hip, allowing him greater access to her body.  Carefully, he began to move within her with small, shallow strokes that allowed her to adjust to the feel of him inside her.

Willow wiggled beneath him.  Her arms tightening around his shoulders.  “Faster,” she breathed.

Angel groaned.  “Willow. . .”

“Faster,” she repeated.

So Angel gave her faster.  His head bent as he thrust into her.  Willow matched him move for move, so that his pubic bone ground into her clit with each hard thrust.  She was gasping his name out now with every lunge into her body.

“My name on your lips, Willow.  My name.”

“Yes! . . .Oh God. . . Angel!”

She shuddered around him, her contractions clamping down on his cock until he shut his eyes in an effort to control the pleasure.  She clung to him while her body shivered in the aftershocks, his steady thrusts prolonging her enjoyment.

His own release was coming.  He could feel the building tension, but he could also feel the demon lurking, coming closer to the surface.  Sex and blood were intimately tied together for vampires and his approaching orgasm had weakened its chains.  Feeling the bloodlust steal over him, he fought to control his body.  His face buried against the curve of her shoulder, he shut his eyes tight against the pounding need to sink his fangs into her neck and drink in the nectar of her life.  He was so close that shudders wracked his body but he refused that sweet release.  Then like two burning brands that scorched his cool skin, he felt her hands pulled his head down to her throat.  Stretching her head to the side, she bared her life to him.

“It’s all right, Angel.”

“No,” he choked out.

Then she laughed,  “Oh yes,” and dug her nails into the tender skin at the nape of his neck.  The pain and smell of his own blood drove the beast within to the surface, until with a growl, he sank his fangs into her throat.  The feel and taste of her hot blood flowing over his tongue and down his throat set off the orgasm his body had been desperately straining for.  With frantic thrusts he rocked her slight body beneath his, filling her with his cold seed.

The shuddering of release left his body slowly, only to be replaced with a tension of an entirely different sort.  The demon brought to the foreground of his consciousness demanded her life -- its whispers in turn threatening and cajoling -- begging him to take her blood and her soul.  He was caught in the grip of that taking, lost in the mindless fog of the demon’s bloodlust.

Her voice broke the demon’s hold -- soft, commanding, but with an underlying current of power that stopped the demon’s howls.  “That’s enough, Angel.”

Her hands were on his head, gently pulling him free from her neck.  The sound of her voice and touch of her hands was all it took and the demon was locked once more within its cage.  Angel felt its hate but nevertheless it retreated before the green gaze that met his.

And for the first time in over 200 years, Angel felt the demon fear.

“Who are you?” His voice was tinged with awe.

She ran a thumb across his lips and smiled up at him -- a Mona Lisa smile -- mysterious, slightly distance, and with the secrets of the universe hidden behind its slight curve.  “Just Willow.”

He shook his head in denial and started to say something but stopped when he caught the smear of blood on her thumb. His eyes wide with horror, he looked at the puncture wounds marring the white expanse of her throat.  With a groan of disgust, he rolled away from the welcome warmth of her body until he crouched at the end of the bed like the animal he knew himself to be.  His eyes were fixed on the blood still seeping from the wounds.  “Oh Willow.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to do that.  God!  I could’ve killed you.”

The guilt and self-hatred were back, multiplied a thousand fold as his mind conjured image after image of Willow’s lifeless body drained of blood.  His doing.  His fault.  He was the monster.  Within him, the demon stirred to life once more.  Its chill voice mocking as it twisted the joy she’d given him into another weapon to use against his tattered soul.  Cursed for a hundred years and he’d learned nothing.  Still he used and took, destroying the innocent and pure, pulling them down into the hell of his own existence just so he could claim a moment of peace.

He doubled over, a wild cry of pain forcing itself up from deep within.  He curled around himself in a futile effect to hide himself from her clear gaze.

She reached up to touch the wounds, her fingers coming away blood stained.  Sitting up, she reached out to him, ignoring his flinch when she got near.  Very carefully she wiped the drop of blood across his lower lip.  Fight it as he might, her touch and the taste of blood together sent a shiver of renewed desire coursing through him.  He hated himself for it.

She wrapped her arms around his shaking form, holding him as if he were a child.  “It’s all right, Angel.  You are what you are.  A vampire.”

He grabbed her wrists, snarling at her.  His fear at what might have happened and his disgust with himself igniting his anger.  Shaking her within his grasp he thundered, “Don’t you understand?  I could have killed you!”

His unleashed anger had demanded fearful respect from man and demon alike for over 200 years.  Tonight it crumbled in defeat at the small laugh of a 17 year old girl.  That mysterious smile back on her lips, she shook her head at him.  “You said I soothe the demon.”

His eyes flew up to hers in surprise.  He had not even noticed the retreat of the demon until she said the words.  It’s hated presence had retreated back from the moment she had taken him in her arms.  He didn’t understand any of this.  “You do.”  He answered, amazement in his voice.  “I don’t know how or why, but you do.”

Her wrists still imprisoned by his hands, she raised up on her knees and kissed him.  It was a gentle kiss, a simple brushing of lips against lips.  “I trust you, Angel.  Now trust me.”

*****

At 6:30 am, a piercing alarm rang out through Willow’s bedroom.  A hand shot out and with practiced efficiency hit the snooze button.  “Angel,” she sighed into her pillow.  Then she grasped what she’d said and fought against the sleep still clouding her mind.  Just before she opened her eyes she thought she heard the sounds of amused and self-satisfied laughter.

*****

Across town, a vampire slept alone, black satin sheets twisted tight around his body.  He shifted, seeming to reach out for something or someone who wasn’t there.  He might have whispered a name.

*****

Somewhere else a demon crouched in fear.
 

~End~

read the sequal 'Fires Banked'
read the alternative ending 'Fires Banked Revisted'

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