Filling In The Blanks

Part Five

you're the first to fight
you're way too loud
you're the flash of light on a burial shroud

Between the El Eliminati, handling Faith and the new overly annoying watcher, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Buffy had her hands full. She couldn't believe it herself when she jumped down into the sewers through the manhole with Faith to fight some uniformed, cultist, vampire wackos for an amulet that was supposed to destroy the strength of a demon that wasn't even alive anymore.

So much for logic, she thought, which Faith and the new watcher both seemed to be severely lacking. She landed at the bottom and jumped into the saffron colored fray.

Half an hour later, she sloshed home, smelling strongly of sewer and carrying with her one very hard won amulet. She grinned as she strutted up to the tree in front of her house and scaled it with the precision of a thousand nights of doing the same. Strange, that some nights she didn't use the door even though her mother was well aware of her Slayerness. Some nights, it just felt better to climb the tree.

After tucking the amulet in her bag to carry off to school the next day, she dripped her way to the bathroom, stripped her clothes off and dove into the shower to wash the stench from her body. A new sort of attitude had rubbed off of Faith and onto her tonight. She couldn't help feeling the satisfaction of a good fight from her sister Slayer's point of view. She loved the feel of it. She liked feeling as if she was in control for a moment, of being strong and bold.

More of Faith rubbed off on her than she realized, as she stepped out of the shower and sauntered to her room wrapped in a white towel. She couldn't help but think about how Faith described her horniness after battle, with the use of multiple grunts. She more she thought about it, the more she yearned for Angel.

She sat on her bed and brushed out her hair, allowing the feeling to take over in long lapping waves. What she tried to think about was how she shouldn't go to him, how she should be the good little daughter and girlfriend and stay home where she wouldn't tempt his soul. She tried to think about that. But her thoughts began to wander, as they often did, toward his large hands and how they felt pinching her nipples, smoothing over her back, sliding between her thighs.

She crossed her legs and tried to pry her thoughts to the fight earlier, to less appealing vampires and the dust that remained of them. But Angel was relentless in her mind, pressing his hardness against her tight belly, sucking her lips into his mouth, nibbling on the column of her neck.

Damn it, she thought in sexual frustration. Finally, she set down her brush and went to her dresser.

"Pajamas," she muttered to herself, in a reminder that she should go to bed and not to Angel's but all she saw in her drawers were things that could be very sexy to a celibate vampire. She forced her fingers away from the negligee that she had long hidden from anyone's eyes and to a simple white tank top and sweat pants. She slipped them on and despite herself, still felt horny.

Sighing in defeat, she slipped on shoes and Angel's leather jacket and climbed back out the window.


want to get myself back in again
the soft dive of oblivion
i want to taste the salt of your skin
the soft dive of oblivion, oblivion

Angel was staring at a copy of Charles Baudelaire's poetry in an attempt to steer his thoughts away from Buffy. Of course, Baudelaire was doing absolutely nothing to help, as the words personified his lover. The poet seemed to have her in mind when he wrote "What Would You Say To-night."

What would you say to-night, poor soul, after what fashion,
What would you say, my heart, heart withered and malign,
To the most dear, most fair, most good, except that her passion
Must be a sudden silence and a regard divine?

-We shall be proud in singing all her praises,
Nothing is worth the sweetest of her vanity;
Her spiritual flesh has the angel's perfume, which amazes
Those that assume the guise of Insanity.

Whether it be in the night or in the solitude,
Whether is be on the street or in the multitude,
Her ghost in the air dances like a torch lit with wine.

Angel folded the old book over his thumb and stared into the fireplace.

~~Her flesh has the angel's perfume~~

In more ways than one, he thought smiling into her memory. He could smell her on his clothes, inside his skin, in his bed – she enveloped the room even when she hadn't been there for days at a time. And he could smell himself on her, which lit in him a warmth that also didn't dissipate for long periods of time. He was certain that every vampire she battled was well aware that she was intimate with one of their brethren. Most of the locals, knew of her relationship with him, but he was certain that the scent of a vampire threw off many visiting fiends. She was intoxicating and filled him fully, as no feeding ever did. Nowadays, he fed for strength - to remain alive, but he lived for his short moments with his beloved.

As if by sheer will, she strolled through the door - hair damp from recently showering and her skin glowed with arousal the he knew all too well.

"What cha doing, baby?" she asked coyly.

They waver before me, those Eyes full of lights,
That a most learned Angel has inspired with desires;

"Reading," he said, pushing her back out the door with his mind and beckoning her forward with his body. Why the hell was she that goddamn beautiful anyway?

"What're you reading?" she asked, crossing the room, while slipping his leather jacket off. Her bare breasts were visible beneath the form fitting shirt and her muscular bare belly twisted with her movements, pleading to be kissed and touched.

"Baudelaire," he said hoarsely.

"Um...who?" She asked with a smile, flashing dazzling white teeth behind full red lips.

"French poet," he explained simply.

"Read me some," she whispered, finally making it to his side. He set the book aside as she flipped her leg casually over his lap and slid against his bare chest on her way down. His hands flew up to touch the bit of bare skin on her back between her shirt and sweat pants.

"One might say your regard was covered with a vapour," he started staring into her eyes, "Your green mysterious eyes that like a taper alternatively tender, drowsy, cruel, reflect the pallid indolence of a jewel."

Certain lines of the poem, again made for his love, were ignored by her as she began kissing his neck. He cleared his throat and continued, trying to keep his body in check and failing miserably, "You recall days moist, under which the witches betray the girls' hearts and steal from them their riches, when, agitated by an unknown evil that twists them, the awakened nerves scorn the spirit that resists them."

She moved her hands slowly over his back, allowing only her fingertips to make contact with his flesh as she kissed searing fire over his chest. She licked his nipples with a little smile playing her lips, but he missed it as he continued, allowing his hand to move up from the small of her back, over the seductive arch of her spine, slipping her shirt up as he moved up to her shoulder blades.

"You have the likeness of these tragic treasons," he whispered in a moan as she slipped off his lap, pushed him so his back was against the wall and kissed along his muscular stomach, while her hands moved absently over his thighs, "That excite the suns in their most magic season. -How you shone, in an enormous interfusion, Inflaming the rays that fell from the sky's confusion!"

"Beautiful," she murmured as she caressed his throbbing hardness over his pants and began to unbutton them.

"O dangerous woman," he groaned as she pulled his cock out of his pants and wrapped her hand around the base of him, "O seductive regions!"

She ignored the implication of the poetry as she kissed up the underside of him and sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue.

"Shall I adore your frosts and snows and the legions of locusts," he moaned, arching his hips, as she took nearly all of him into her mouth, "and from the pitiless winter environ more bitter pleasures from frozen ice and from iron?"

"Fuck," he groaned, squeezing his eyes closed from the sensual vision of her eyes meeting his from his lap.

"Is that part of the poem?" she asked with a smile before taking him back inside her mouth.

"Not exactly," he grunted.

"Mmmm," she whispered, feeling her arousal grow with each moan and grunt that came from her lover.

" too much," Angel growled at her, clutched the edge of the hearth for control, " think...oh God..."

"What's wrong, Angel?" she asked innocently, cupping his balls as she moved harder over him.

"Curse," he growled again, causing her to squeeze her thighs together in erupting arousal, "isn't going to hold up if you keep doing that."

"It's okay," she whispered, sending a breeze of sweet breath over him that caused a violent shiver to shot through his body.

"Don't think so," he with gritted teeth, growling on purpose because he noticed immediately the effect it was having on her, even though it caused more arousal and happiness, "Have to stop."

"Don't wanna," she said, spreading little kisses over his length, while looking up at him and adding huskily, "I like the way you taste, the way you feel in my mouth...inside me again."

She took him back in her mouth when she finished speaking, but her words were what made him explode. And he groaned her name as he came, forcing the stone hearth to crumble beneath his fingers, sending small bits of concrete dust to float around him, much like his cloud of arousal.

"You're evil," he said, as he gathered his senses and refastened his pants with trembling fingers.

"You like it," she said grinning, still on her knees before him, even though he felt like worshiping at her altar.

"I love it," he said, pulling her back onto his lap and exploring her mouth with his probing tongue. He slid his hands up her back, over her shoulders, down her arms to her fingertips and pulled her arms up over her head. Quickly reaching down, he pulled her little top up and off, flinging it away as he bent down to suck a perfect nipple into his mouth.

"I love you," she moaned as he moved to the other nipple, caressing the abandoned breast with his large hand.

"I love you," he said, picking her up and moving them to the couch with rapid, vampiric movements. He slipped her pants off and pulled her legs apart slowly, watching her unfold before him.

"I wish I could make love to you," he said, lowering his head to the base of her arousal.

"You do," she moaned as he sucked her clit into his mouth.

"I want to be inside you," he groaned back scraping his blunt teeth lightly against her.

"," she said, forcing the words out as her mind drifted away.


close to the pierce, i go wild and fierce
still i let you be, i feel you next to me
cause inside i feel a wind that starts to blow
i'm taken in your undertow

Angel walked into The Bronze in search of Buffy to find her gyrating to a hard techno beat and surrounded by very much alive, unvampiric young men. All of which, seem to want what any man with a pulse - or without one - would want. The energy that streamed off the two, while they moved with abandon to The Curve's hard sound, was grating a sexual flow through the entire room and pulling the strings of every guy in the room.

Angel paused to watch her, barely noticing Faith, who normally performed this sort of mating dance. He watched the normal and hormonal guys flocking around his love and thought about how they all could provide a normal life for her. They all could make love to her. The next thought was red and filled with visions of broken bones of the one who dared touch her.

Ashamed of his thoughts and wildly jealous of her entourage, he began to turn away. He needed to get the sight of her and all those grinding movements from his mind. He had to walk away before he started ripping limbs from innocent bodies. He saw Buffy coming toward him from the corner of his eye and turned back around.

Buffy hopped up, wrapped her strong legs around his waist while wrapping her arms around his neck. Her hot, sweaty skin sent flashes of heat through his body. She pressed against the oncoming arousal as a reminder of the previous night.

"Hey! You're not leaving, are you?" She said with a confident, kissable smile, inches from his lips. He didn't want to kiss her. He wanted to scream in rage and show the jealousy he couldn't hide.

"I saw you making friends," he said, casting an annoyed look at the boys who still swarmed around Faith.

Buffy glanced dismissively over her shoulder, "Them? Boys. I like you."

Angel looked at her soberly. He didn't find this remotely amusing. Buffy hopped down and leaned into him coyly, "What's the matter? You're not afraid of little me, are ya?"

"We better sit down. Come on," He said grabbing her hand and leading her to a pair of benches in the corner.

"I can sense this is a business trip," Buffy said, slightly irritated that he wanted to put a damper on the fun, but decided she wasn't going to let him. Angel sat down and she straddled the bench next to him, sliding close.

"What's the what?"

"Balthazar," Angel said, simply.

"Dead demon," she answered just as simply, scooting closer, knowing he could feel the heat radiating off of her, knowing that a slight move of his hand and he would brush against it. But Angel moved away, much to her dismay, and sat at the bench across from her, reaffirming the seriousness of the situation.

"Not as dead as you think," he said as he moved away, fueled by irritation from her flippant behavior and her ability to drive him up a fucking wall, "Word on the street puts him in the packing warehouse on Devereaux. He's looking for..."

"His amulet," Buffy answered, only half giving into the conversation, "It's supposed to restore his strength."

"From what I'm hearing, that's not something we'd like to see happen."

"No problem. We got the amulet," Buffy said, hoping that the information would bring him back to the more important topic at hand - snuggling, touching, smoochies.

"I know. I spoke to Giles, but he said you gave it to someone," Angel answered, confirming the opposite. When Wesley tucked his head into the conversation, she knew the evening was shot. When did a Slayer get to have any fun? One chaste kiss from the lips that were incredibly passionate the night before was all she was able to get from him before they went their separate ways for the evening.

Buffy pouted her way across the dance floor to gather Faith and go on recon on Balthazar. A Slayer's work - never done...damn it.


well, is it good for you is it good for you
cause you haunt my nights when
i don't know where my life should go
well, is it good for you, is it good for you

"A-angel," Buffy said, as she walked into the mansion, eyes widened with the realization that Faith's little philosophy of "Want, take, have" was not all that it was cracked up to be after they had to cause a wreck in a police cruiser.

"Yeah," he said, staring at Baudelaire again as if he had the answers to the plaguing problems of the world.

"Something happened tonight."

"I know," he said soberly, looking up at his frightened and shaken girlfriend.

"You do?"

"I followed you," he admitted.

"Oh," she whispered settling in next to him, but keep a foot between them, as if his anger was repelling her, "How much did you see?"

"Saw enough to know that you got out your little accident unscathed."

"Oh," she repeated.

"That was really fucking stupid, Buffy," he said, but she didn't look shocked, she expected that his respectable values would not appreciate her little indiscretion tonight.

"I know," she said, filling with more dread with every word that passed his lips. She stood and started toward the door. It was a mistake to go there.

"Where are you going?" He asked, his eyes pooling with exasperation.

"Home," she said, "to hide in my bed and pray that I don't get arrested before school tomorrow."

"Why'd you even come here?" he asked.

"Why are you so mad at me?" she asked, while tears found their way to the corners of her eyes.

"I'm sorry, love," he said, weakening from the tears that threatened to fall, "I can't help it."

"So...why are you so mad at me?" She asked again.

"Well, first I see you with all those...boys tonight at The Bronze, then you break into a weapons store with Faith, manage to get yourself arrested and cause an accident that could've gotten you hurt. Gee, I don't know why I'm mad. Just irrational, I guess."

"I'm sorry," she yelled, holding her hands to her face, as the tears started to flow, "I just wanted to be free for just a little while! I just wanted to know what it's like to be young and reckless, what it feels like to be carefree like Faith for a day. I just want to be a teenager. Is that too much to ask?"

Her last words were against his chest as he pulled her into his arms, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh."

"I came here for comfort from you," she said, pushing away, "Not be lectured like a little girl."

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I just...nothing pisses me off more than you putting yourself in danger and that's closely followed by grinding against other men."

"With them," she said, her eyes flashing, "not against them."

"Whatever," he said, holding out his hand, "Made me crazy."

She took his hand reluctantly and allowed herself to be led to the couch. He sat down and pulled her into his lap, relishing in the feel of her weight against him again.

"You're so damn jealous," she said, thinking back to the last time she had driven him crazy with a simple little dance.

"If you knew what all those boys were thinking, you would understand my tiny bit of jealousy," he said, becoming more comfortable with his own jealousy every time he felt it.

"Yeah," she said, relaxing against him with a smile, "What were they thinking?"

"You don't want to know," he said as his arousal grew beneath her.

She wiggled in his lap suggestively, "Yes, I do."

Slipping a hand up her breast, he stroke the hardening nipple through her maroon shirt, "Not sure you should know. You've been a bad girl already."

"I get worse," she whispered against his lips, while pulling his hand between her thighs.

"I know," he groaned as he felt the heat radiating off her skin through her pants.

Like to the Gambler with his game reversed,
Like to the drunkard with his wine-bottle,
Like to the vermin that the carrion throttle,
-Be thou for ever and ever accursed!


craning your neck at my car wreck and
it always seems the juice used to flow

Angel was still dazed and wearing his game face as they wandered from the warehouse on Devereaux. Buffy began to worry as he walked slowly beside her, loosely holding her hand, as if he didn't even notice she was there.

"Are you okay?" she asked, stopping them in the middle of the sidewalk and looking over him closely.

"Yeah," he answered shaking his head, "I'll be okay. I just was weird."

Buffy was sure he was lying about being okay because each step seemed more like a stumble as they went along. As they entered the cemetery, a low growl started from deep in his chest and rumbled its way out and she felt the vibration travel from his hand to hers.

"Angel?" Buffy asked, stopping him.

"What?" He asked, looking down at her with golden eyes that clearly had no idea what she wanted.

"You're all growly," she answered, "Are you okay?"

"Oh," he said, halting the sound with much difficulty, "I'm...sorry."

"What's wrong?" she asked, placing her hands absently on his hips. He stepped back and walked around her, leaving a wide berth. Without speaking, but resuming his growl, he put distance between himself and his Slayer, "Angel. Where are you going?"

"I have to get away from you," he answered without looking back. Buffy jogged up to him, feeling the soft grass slipping beneath her feet as she caught up with him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and face her.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded, looking into his golden eyes with concern.

"Balthazar," Angel said, "took something from me.'s not safe for you to be with me right now. I'll be okay. I just need some time...away...from you."

"Let me help you," she said, squeezing his arm with emphasis.

"No," he growled, "Go home Buffy. I'll see you tomorrow."

Angel stalked off angrily, his large feet imprinting in the ground as he dodged gravestones. He felt Buffy following him, smelled her blood pumping through her veins wildly with worry. He continued walking, picking up the pace in an attempt to get away from her before he lost control. He could hear her little feet hurrying to keep up with him, edging closer to him, filling his senses with her. Finally, he stopped and pivoted quickly, nearly causing her to collide with his broad, formidable chest. He grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly against him and pushed his tongue into her surprised, open mouth.

"Go home Buffy," he growled again, even as he pulled her hand to his groin and pressing her small fingers against his arousal, "Before something happens that we will both regret."

He willed himself to pull away but couldn't. Instead, he inwardly cursed himself for his brash action because her little hand was pressing against him, the tips of her fingers tracing the rigid outline of his cock. He inhaled deeply as her arousal reached his nostrils and with it arrived every sexual fantasy he had ever had about her.

One swift movement of his hand and he could rip her pants away, exposing her wet pussy to his gaze. He could bend her over the gravestone behind her and fuck her until she screamed. He could already see her bare breasts outlined in the moonlight, erect nipples glistening like stars as he sucked them into his mouth. He had already begun the movement needed to rip her clothes away when he realized what he was doing.

He pulled away from her and walked awkwardly toward the mansion, as he wished his throbbing erection away. Buffy knew she should leave him alone, as he asked her too, but she was terrified that something was seriously wrong. What if he ran into someone and was over come with bloodlust? She couldn't go home when Angel was completely off-kilter.

"Angel, please," Buffy said, following him, "I can't leave you alone. Not while you're like this."

"You have to leave me alone," he said, throwing the words at her over his shoulder, "I can't stand..."

He tapered off but continued his strides, trying to escape her.

"You can't stand what?" she asked. Buffy already knew what he couldn't stand. She knew what she couldn't stand - the thought of his beautifully hard cock raging there for her, left untouched. She felt the feral need and want, utter lust seeping into her from her demon lover. It was contagious and she couldn't turn away. Angel stopped again, knowing his control only went so far, and turned around to face her. He waited as she approached him, slowing her steps once he turned around.

"Your smell," he growled, stepping forward to close the space between them, "The need."

She looked into his eyes, breathing heavily as less than an inch of air separated them.

"I can smell how wet you are," he growled, leaning in a little closer, "I can almost taste it. It's so sweet. I almost can feel myself gliding into you, filling you...almost..feel your inner muscles tightening around me and as I move inside you. I can feel your mouth around my cock, sucking me. I can taste the tang of your orgasm on my tongue, on the tips of my fingers."

Buffy's eyes were wide with shock as he uttered the words, "I want you. I can hardly control it. I've told you that before, but this is different. There's a wildness inside me that was released tonight and it's making me...I want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until I can see the bruises appear beneath my fingers. I want to hear you screaming my name."

With that Angel walked away and she stood there watching him go, as every part of her body shook with want.


and there it goes, my last chance for peace
you lay me down, but i get no release
and i say i, i try to keep awake
i try to swim beneath
i try to keep awake
but i, i can feel this narcolepsy slide
into another nightmare

Buffy's only relief, the only bit of peace of mind she was allowed, was that Angel's strange animalistic fever had disappeared by the next night when she went to see him. He stood away from her, not allowing himself to touch her during their visit as if he was afraid the feeling would come back. Their short conversation left her feeling empty and alone and she headed home to try to get some more of the restless sleep she was getting more and more used to.

Her nightmares about Allan were getting worse. Ever since Faith admitted she dumped the body, her dreams were filled with underwater attacks by the innocent dead man. She tried to sleep and found herself batting away the constant attacks of the man who died because he had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Tonight, she sat up from her most recent nightmare and wandered out of her room. She could hear the television and went in to see what she was hearing.

"We go now live to our field reporter, who is standing by at the waterfront with this breaking news about the murder that has shocked the Mayor and residents of Sunnydale."

She stood watching footage of a boat retrieving a body from the water. *The* body. The dead man, who fell at a Slayer's hands.

The field reporter began speaking and his words struck every cord in Buffy's body as she listened, "Fishermen discovered the body today, the victim of a brutal stabbing. Authorities and citizens alike were shocked when the slain man was identified as Deputy Mayor Allan Finch."

Buffy hadn't thought that there was anything worse than the body being found, that there was a body at all, until she found out he was the Deputy Mayor. This was so much worse that she thought. She leaned in as the field reporter continued speaking, "Still reeling from the news, Mayor Wilkins had this to say..."

Buffy didn't have to wait more than a second before the news cut to the Mayor at a press conference, "Mr. Finch was not only my longtime aide and associate, he was a close personal friend. I promise you I will not rest until whoever did this is found and brought to justice. Thank you very much."

Joyce noticed her daughter standing behind her, "Oh, honey, you're up. Oh, it's just terrible, isn't it?"

This is was so much more than terrible. Every time she woke up from a new nightmare, she wished that all of it was a nightmare, but it wasn't. She went back to her room after the news ended, after a shocked conversation with her mother, but she couldn't lay in her bed, could begin to think about closing her eyes. Visions of the dead man, the Deputy Mayor, being fished from the water was ironed into her memory, burned there. Buffy felt as if she was hot swappable with Faith: A murder was committed. A Slayer did the terrible deed. She was a Slayer. She was guilty.

At least that's how it felt.

Tears were already streaming down her face as she ran toward Angel's mansion. Dawn threatened as twilight began and she ran faster as if she were afraid the sun would harm her. Just as swappable with her vampire, she was frying in the heat of the transgressions of those around her.

She rounded the corner, flew down the stairs and was in a full sprint when she entered the mansion. Angel heard her coming and rose from his bed to meet her. He had barely made it from the bedroom when she collided with him and knocked him to the floor, nearly bruising his shoulder blades with the force that he hit the floor. She sobbed on his bare chest and his arms found their place around her convulsing frame.

"'s okay," he whispered, holding her tightly against him. Finally, her tears subsided and he stood, carrying her with him into the bedroom.

"Have to go to school soon," she whimpered as she curled herself around him.

"I know, baby," he said, pulling her in tightly. He was hypnotized by her breathing, as it evened out and she fell asleep.


i'm on a train, but there's no one at the helm
and there's a demon in my brain
who starts to overwhelm whelm whelm whelm whelm

"I don't want to talk about it," Buffy said quietly the next night as she pulled Angel's coat off of his shoulders and watched it fall to the floor as if it were a leaf fluttering from a tree. He had made it to the mansion only minutes before she arrived and hadn't even taken off his coat yet. Buffy's fingers flew over the buttons of his shirt and he stood strangely still as she undressed him.

"Buffy," he said finally, forcing her name from his lips.

"I've been thinking about what you said the other night," she whispered as she kissed his chest and slipped his shirt off.

"That was-" he started.

"I know what it was," Buffy breathed against his skin.

"I didn't mean..." he began again, but tapered off, unable to think of how to complete his sentence. Her fingers were warm whispers of air as she glided over his muscled back and kissed his neck and chest.

"I know what you meant," she whispered, backing him to the couch, where she forced him to sit.

"Buffy," he said and she looked into his strained brown eyes as she began retracing his arousal as she had done before.

"What Angel?" she whispered quietly, while she put more pressure against him.

"This...what we've been doing...I don't think...we should do this anymore," he groaned as she caressed him, "This could lead to-"

"Badness?" she asked innocently as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, smiling at the cock that sprang free.

"Yes," he growled as she wrapped her hot hand around him and flicked her tongue over his sensitive tip, causing his growl to become her name, as he tried not to arch his hips, "Buffy. Please stop, baby."

"Can you almost feel my mouth around your cock, sucking you?" she whispered, sending little puffs of passionate breath over his length.

"Buffy," Angel groaned, as his eyes snapped to her clouded eyes, "I'm...sorry. I explained to you what happenedohGod..."

Buffy was tired of talking about it, tired of wanting it and she shut down his words, his brain, as she lowered her head and began to suck, screamingly slow. She was sure there was a part of her that should have wanted to talk about how she felt when she thought Giles had turned against her, how she had cried on Willow's shoulder, how Faith had completely gone insane. But she didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to forget it and Buffy knew that all the roads to oblivion rested on Angel's skin.


and there's a demon in my head who starts to play
a nightmare tape loop of what went wrong yesterday
and i hold my breath till it's more than i can take
and i close my eyes and dream that i'm awake
i try to keep awake
i try to keep awake
i try to keep awake

Angel waited for Buffy to come to him tonight. Chaining up Faith and explaining evil was a deafening wake up call for him. He couldn't continue the sexual side with Buffy. Too much was at stake now. He knew what he was and what he was capable just seemed to slip away when he was in her arms, when he was touching her skin. He knew one night he would not be able to turn away and then it would be too late.


Everything seemed to scream its warning as he paced nervously. The walls and the floor murmured fears what could be on that night when he did what he wanted to do more than anything else. He saw the metamorphic blackness crawling around Faith. It was a disease and it was contagious. He would never forgive himself if he somehow pushed Buffy toward that fatal end.

She was The Slayer and with that came specific responsibilities. He couldn't add to the duty and the pain. He knew the look of heartache that Angelus gave her, tearing away at her insides. So he paced and waited to break the bad news. A line had to be drawn and he knew that his shaking hands would barely be able to make it happen. Barely.


cause my greatest fear is that sucking sound
and then i know that i'll never get back out

"I've seen it, B. You've got the lust. And I'm not just talking about screwing vampires."

Faith's words had been shards of glass, leaving long red lines of truth on her skin. As she talked to Giles about the evening's events, she could hardly concentrate on her Watcher's words. Faith's were too loud, echoing in her mind, "See, you need me to toe the line because you're afraid you'll go over it, aren't you, B? You can't handle watching me living my own way, having a blast, because it tempts you! You know it could be you!"

She had yelled at Faith, telling her it wasn't true but it was. Only in a different way. Angel was her weakness, her ticket to the other side. She knew that what they had been doing was wrong. Badness was right. Sweet, sweet badness.

As she made her way slowly to the mansion, having left Giles to think about his next Watcherly step. She knew that Angel would agree with what she had to say when she told him it had to stop. The touching of bare skin, tasting salty passion. There was a way to work around the lust that they created every time they were near. There was a way, she just had to figure it out. She just had to want him a little less, try not to dream about him as frequently, stop visiting him at night.

She sighed when she thought about the sleepless nights that would be coming ahead of her, where she laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, dreaming of his hands, his skin and his perfect kisses.