“More than you know, baby.” Her voice hadn’t changed since the last time they had met, still soft and sweet and Angelus wondered again why she looked at him like she wanted to tie him to the bed and never let him up instead of staking him where he stood. Still that idea held more than a few possibilities; wondering idly if there were any chains, hell, scarves would do, Angelus stalked forward until he pressed Buffy against the wall.

Breathing deeply, he caught the distinct aroma of her arousal heavy in the air. And something else, power, more so than her usual slayerness, came off her in waves, slamming into him so strongly he wondered why he hadn’t felt it before. But then it reached out and…caressed him?

Darkness. It was darkness that he felt from her now, darkness that surrounded her, that reached out and touched him, drawing him inexorably to her. Still, Angelus was never one to go down without a fight. And as he had no real idea what had happened to her, he decided to concentrate on more immediate matters first; namely her luscious and willing body.

“I guess you have missed me.” He leaned back slightly; just enough so she could see the mocking smile on his face, the sneer in his eyes, but let his hands roam over her body, reacquainting himself with her curves. “You brought me back I assume.” At her silent nod he paused. “Why?”

“Because I love you and you are mine.” The words were so simple, so easy to say and when she said them Angelus could almost believe them. Still…

“Hardly, Buff. I’m no one’s. I’m the Master here; you are nothing but my whore.” He leaned in again, lips tracing her cheek bone down to her mouth even as his hands molded her breasts, tweaking the nipples. His mouth closed briefly over hers, swallowing her gasp of pleasure and need. “You may belong to me, and in fact do, but I am the one in charge. Get used to it.”

Shocked, she had it all planned out after all, Buffy looked at him, the power and the insanity that it had caused fading only slightly from her eyes as the young girl that believed everything Angelus had said to her once upon a time asserted herself if only for a brief moment. Wasn’t it always like this? Angel never wanted her, maybe that’s why they could never be together before, because they truly weren’t meant to be.

She leaned back from him, or as much as the wall at her back would allow, and looked into his eyes. Soul or no, she was almost positive that she could tell how much he wanted her just from looking into his eyes. The erection pressing into her stomach, the hands rigid with resisting the pull of her body gripping her arms, holding her still were all forgotten as she looked for the love, the affection, something, anything that she was sure would be there.

But Angelus knew what she was doing, she was so predictable! He knew exactly how to play her, exactly which buttons to push to get her to do his bidding. Of course he wanted her; there was never any doubt about that. And to an extent, he loved her as well. Or wanted her, needed her, craved her above all others; more than a prized possession, like the most valuable thing in the world. Love wasn’t really an emotion he had any experience with and frankly, if it made him anything like soul boy – weepy and indecisive – he didn’t want it.

Still, it was for the same woman, but that made no difference at the moment when he could tell that she believed every word he had said.

A silent tear tracked down her face but she was unaware of it as she searched is hooded eyes in vain for the emotion she was positive was there. It never occurred to her that he was just masking it, that he knew how to play her, that he was unaware she was already broken and wanted to shatter her himself, only to remold her the way he wanted her.

Angelus had no idea that the Buffy he had known was gone forever and the one that replaced her, while beating Drusilla in the sanity department by miles, had lost most of herself when the darkness that engulfed Willow had found a new home in her. The only part remaining of that Buffy was the part that knew her mate that knew him and wanted him back, no matter the cost.

But now she cried, not only for herself, but for the love she was sure was still there, strong and alive. A second tear tracked down her creamy cheek and Angelus found himself drawn to it. Of its one accord, one hand left her breast and lifted to her face, gently catching the fallen sorrow.

What had she done to him? He wondered in some dim part of his mind. She made him as weak as soul boy, made him want to hold and comfort her. Well, screw that. He wanted her and he was damn well going to show her that she belonged to him. And if, in the process, he admitted that he was indeed hers as much as she was his…he wasn’t going to dwell on that.

Leaning in, Angelus captured Buffy’s lips with his, tongue caressing her before diving in, remembered tastes and scents invading his senses to the exclusion of all else. Plundering her mouth, Angelus lifted her against the wall, all thoughts of lessons and domination and anything else lost in the feel of her warmth against him.

The shirt she had been wearing was gone, buttons torn from their holes, seams ripped in desperation to reach the skin it was hiding. His hands gripped her hips tightly as his mouth left hers to travel to her straining nipples, taking each hardened peak into the cool cavern of his mouth.

The demon took over and Buffy felt his fangs scrap over her breasts, drawing only a scratch of blood but she couldn’t control the cry of pleasure that fell from her lips in the form of his name; HIS name, his true name. Angelus paused only for a moment as the sound registered before resuming his attack on her flesh.

Her pants, soft cotton that she had worn only because she had found nothing appropriate in her mad rush to get to her mate and make everyone pay for turning against her, went the way of her shirt. She wasn’t wearing any underwear and Angelus snarled his satisfaction even as he plunged two fingers into her waiting heat.

She cried out again, rocking against his hand as her own found purchase on his broad shoulders. Her mouth latched onto his neck, sucking avidly on the long dead artery there. She pulled back after only a few moments and looked into his eyes, which had opened only when she pulled her mouth away from him.

“Now, baby, please, I need you in me now.”

Angelus snarled, annoyed at the order, but at the same time needing the same as she. However he waited long, long moments before giving in to what they both wanted, thrusting into her warm and welcoming body. It was a fast and brutal coupling, strength evenly matched pitted not against each other but in tandem with what they both longed for…to be as intimately close as flesh would allow.

The crest of her orgasm crashed over Buffy and she convulsed around Angelus, tightening her inner most muscles and bringing him with her. Just as the wave of pleasure began to subside, she felt the gentle prick of sharpened teeth and exploded again as he drank from her, a continuous growl of satisfaction emanating from his chest the entire time.

Spent, they slid down the wall to lie on the floor, breathing heavily though only one of them needed to do so. Buffy smiled into the dim light of the room. They hadn’t bothered to do more than turn on a single bedside lamp which cast a small pool of light, but left the rest of the room in shadow.

Rolling onto his stomach, Buffy smiled down at him. “Welcome home, lover.”

He smiled back, a real smile that told her all she needed to know, and pulled her down for another kiss, fully intending for it to lead to other things when there was a knock on the door. It sounded like a bullet shot into their world, causing them to jerk up into defensive positions before either realized that whatever may want to attack them would certainly not knock on their door announcing their intentions.

Opening the door slightly, unashamed of her nakedness, Buffy looked at the old woman on the other side. The woman, for her part, was mostly blind and could only make out the indistinctive shape of a female in front of her. It didn’t matter, as Rosemary had never let anyone intimidate her in all her seventy eight years and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

“Where’s Mr. Peters? What have you done to him? I though I heard a scream in here earlier, and now I know I did. What have you done to him? If I find out you harmed him in any way I’m calling the police!” The old woman threatened. She was livid; if something indeed had happened to Mr. Peters, they would pay. Whoever they were, and she had no idea who was currently in the room but she knew, she just knew, it wasn’t Mr. Peters.

Buffy, irritated at being interrupted at the very beginning of their marathon reacquaintance sex, raised her hand in a casual gesture and said just loud enough for Angelus to hear, “Bored now.”

The old woman screamed when her skin was suddenly, violently, and quite inexplicitly, ripped off her body. Now she lay limp on the ground, dead her eyes staring blankly out of their sockets, her insides beginning to annulment without the protective layer of her epidermis.

Buffy’s eyes had turned black as lightening shot out of her fingertips and fire circled the old woman’s body. Only seconds had passed and now all that was left of Rosemary Johansen was a scattered pile of ash.

Buffy laughed in delight and clapped her hands at this, her first real show of power, while her lover just looked at her. Angelus mouth opened and closed quite a few times before he finally found his voice and said, “Who the hell are you?!”