Flowers Bloom

PART ONE

Part 8

A few weeks later a problem arises. It’s been explained to me by Gunn that we have an alliance of humans up in Sunnydale who are mediocre warriors, but who are willing to help us when the final fight comes. They live out their normal lives under no suspicion from any of the demons, but are planning to be loyal to us when the time comes. Apparently some vampires have had suspicions about where the humans’ alliances lie, and they’re investigating. I note Angel’s expressions when the vampires’ names are mentioned, and how we should be aware of them. I know that I have to talk to him about what he knows after we all disperse to our different duties.

Later, I ask him to meet me in my bedroom, and for a minute he looks a little nervous before he realizes that I just want to talk. When I see him in there I sit on the bed, wondering how I should best approach the subject. I’m not a very social person in general, so broaching a subject that I know will be touchy will be even harder.

“Do you know…those vampires?” I ask timidly.

“What?” He says, his head snapping up. The rigidity of his body is a telltale sign that he has some connection to them, or at least Angelus did.

“Spike, Drusilla, you know them don’t you?”

“I…” he rubs the back of his neck, and I rub mine, fingering my scars.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “Just tell me, Angel, I know that you know something. I saw your face back in that room.”

“I sired both of them. Well, technically. I sired Dru, then she sired Spike. They were my…family, along with Darla. We spent a century and a half together. Well, a little less with Spike and Dru, but essentially it was just the four of us that tore down whole towns.”

“I see,” I murmur, looking intently at my bedclothes. “If it’s only Spike and Drusilla, where’s Darla?”

“Probably Europe, maybe somewhere else. She cast me out when she found out I had a soul. I haven’t seen her for nearly a century.”

“At all?”

“No. I haven’t see Drusilla or Spike either. They probably don’t even know I have a soul. Maybe Darla told them, but I could still pretend to be Angelus.”

“Good advantage, huh?” I ask. He nods slightly. “I have a feeling something else is wrong. You can’t kill them?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “that’s not it. It’ll probably just drag up a lot of memories that I have when I was a…demon. They’re rather unpleasant and I already see them every night in my dreams, I don’t need more.”

“You don’t have to come.” I want him to look at me, but whenever we talk of his past he looks away. He shouldn’t be ashamed; it was a demon that committed those atrocities. His only fault would be too much guilt. Other than that, he’s perfect. “It would be a good advantage to have you there, but I can kill them alone.”

“I know you can,” he said with sincerity, “but I want to be there. If they’re going to be killed, I should do it. A second time.”

“I’m sorry.” I audaciously come toward him and slide my arms around his middle. “None of it was your fault,” I say into his shirt. My nose hits his sternum, and mashes there. His fingers trace patterns on my back. “Yes, it was,” he says thoughtfully. I can feel the weight of his chin on top of my head.

One night almost a year since I had first come to live here, I wake to find a large figure wrapped around my body. It scares me at first and I jolt a little, until the familiar scent of Angel assaults me. His head is resting on my chest, one of his arms slung tightly over my waist. I wonder what spurned him coming into my bed and clutching me so tightly. I’m surprised I haven’t woken before now.

I look up into the darkness and wonder about something that happened earlier today. I heard Angel, Giles and Wesley all talk with each other about something, something that they were adamant I not hear about. I didn’t see Angel for the rest of the day, but Wesley and Giles were scurrying around frantically. I knew that it had something to do with me, and I’m more than a little worried. We had been investigating Spike and Drusilla for weeks, and the time was drawing near when we’d have to face them.

Now he’s lying here, head pressed to my breast in slumber, and I know that the talk he had earlier today with Wes and Giles had something to do with me, I’m just not sure what. He seems a little scared. Absently I run my hands over his scalp, through his hair and scratch his scalp lightly. In a few seconds, I hear a low purr rumbling from his chest, and it vibrates into my stomach, creating a soothing feeling. I noticed his purring a couple months ago, and I find contentment from it; I love it. I never thought I would love the characteristic of a vampire so much. I don’t know if he’s aware of it though.

He awakes slowly, and in the throes of thought I don’t notice until his head rises from my chest. He stares at me in the darkness sleepily for a second, his purr slowly ebbing away. I bring my hands down from his hair to his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper. There’s no need to whisper, but I do anyway.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, but his eyes shift and I can tell that he’s lying. I bring my hand up to his cheek.

“Tell me,” I say softly. “I know there’s something.”

He looks down instead at my chest and brings his hand to my stomach. He’s grown bolder over the months, as have I. I used to loathe being touched; I wasn’t used to it. Now I’m really only comfortable with Angel being close to me, or touching me. If someone stays too close for too long, or is too touchy, I have to get away, and Angel understands that. But he knows the unspoken rule of trust between us.

“I can’t tell you right now,” he says, his eyes sad.

“Okay,” I concede quickly, knowing that I don’t want to fight tonight. “When?”

“Soon,” he says, coming up beside me completely and taking my hand in his. “Buffy, you know that you mean a lot to me, right?”

“Of course,” I reply sincerely, studying his eyes for any clues. “You mean a lot to me, too.”

In a minute, he has the subject switched on me, and I’m guessing he’s experienced at it. “You want to go outside?” I’ve told him before that I longed to just see the polluted sky again, and I nod. He pulls me off the bed quickly and I follow him up an elevator. It’s the dead of night, I can feel it. I haven’t seen the sun or the moon in nearly a year, but my Slayer senses have been trained to feel the days and nights. I suppose that’s another thing that Angel and I have in common.

When I’m outside again I inhale the greasy air loudly. I know that it’s disgusting, but it’s still air. “This way,” Angel whispers, tugging me behind him. It seems like we travel through a maze of alleys and streets for hours until we come to a small grassy hill on the edge of town. It’s beautiful here, one of the very rare places that has been untouched by smog and the fake glow of fluorescent lights. There is a grove of trees and he finally stops.

He pulls me down with him against one of the trees, and we overlook the dirty streets together. I can see the stars here, but they look muddled and strange. I’m not complaining, however; it’s still beautiful and something I have missed. I roll over on my stomach on the grass, enjoying the coolness of it. Angel leans against the tree and there is a comfortable silence for a long while. We’re just content to be in each other’s

presence. After awhile he speaks behind me, and though I can’t see his face, I can still hear that his voice is strained.

“Buffy…” He sounds like he has to tell me something, but is being strangled.

“What?”

“In a few days we’re going to be going up against some pretty strong vampires.”

“I know,” I whisper up into the sky.

“You haven’t even fought a real demon yet.”

I turn slightly to look at his face. “Are you saying that I’m not strong enough, that I’m not ready?”

He quickly tries to cover. “No, no that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just saying…plan your tactics well. These two are strong, I know them better than they know themselves.”

“And you’ll be there, right? You’ll help me? Don’t worry; everything is going to be fine. Especially since you’ll be there.” I give him a little smile but he doesn’t return it, so I turn back to the city.

“Yes,” he affirms, “I will be there, and just because I act like Angelus doesn’t mean I will be him. I might scare you a little, but just know that it’s not me.”

“Angel,” I say softly, reassuringly, “I’m not afraid of you. I trust you, and I know that you still have a soul, so what is there to worry about?”

“I might hurt you,” he mumbles.

“Not possible. Just relax okay? We have this one in the bag, they don’t even know we’re coming.” I keep my light demeanor, but inside worry is starting to creep into me. He’s starting to act weird. I feel him approach me from behind, placing a hand on my shoulder. He turns me over with ease, until all I can see is him. He blots out the oily moon and stars, and all I can feel is his large form above me and the grass flattened beneath me. He looks at me seriously, too seriously, and runs the pad of his thumb over one of my cheekbones.

His mouth moves around a word, and I realize that it’s my name, a just barely audible whisper. He stares at me and lowers his eyes until they rest against my lips. I almost feel him against me, even when he just looks at me. He cradles my head in both his large palms gently, and brings my lips to his, as if I’m some kind of fruit. I close my eyes at the contact, and he holds my head still as he plants little nipping kisses on my lips.

They’re close-mouthed and soft, and I can’t kiss back, because he has me pinned. So I simply lie there and soak in sensation, every sensation of him I can. I feel like a tidal wave has taken me over, and all I can do is surrender to it. He’s so soft and gentle, like flower petals or silk.

When I open my eyes he’s staring at me again, and I don’t know if I can take the intensity again. He looks like he desperately has to say something, something he has to release to the night sky, to make it cleaner. Finally he says it.

“I love you,” he tells me, his voice like worn velvet, but still loud enough for me to hear. And I realize that I’ve known it all along, maybe from the first time I saw him, but I still needed to hear it desperately. I needed to be loved.

“You’re the only one I love, I’ve ever loved,” I say back, but my voice is whispery, it’s like sandpaper grating over wood. It’s the sincerest thing that I’ve ever said, and the sincerest thing I’ve ever felt for anyone on the face of this earth. And maybe I haven’t loved anyone before him, or had the chance to, but I know that if I did have the chance, no one could make me feel as he does.

His lips descend then, and I’m almost not prepared for the ferocity with which his kisses ensue. He starts being the aggressor this time, instead of me prodding him to touch me. His hands are everywhere, making me feel things that I never even thought I could feel before. They run over my arms, my ribcage, soothe my stomach. They avoid my breasts, one place I’ve come to learn that ache so much for his touch. He strokes my shoulders, my collarbone. His kisses slide down from my mouth to my chin, to underneath my chin, a sensitive area. He lets his tongue trace there for a while before he moves down to my neck.

His mouth just rests on the hollow between my neck and shoulder. It doesn’t hurt when he suddenly bites down, but I know that he’s made a mark. He continues to suck there with his cool tongue, and I let out a little cry, something else that I’ve never done before. I’m so hazy with desire that I can barely even form a coherent thought, let alone restrain myself from the noises I’m making. He kisses every inch of my neck, spending a long amount of time there, using an infinite amount of patience. I love it, and I hold his head there until he takes charge to move down further.

He pauses for a second, looking up at me with black eyes before I grab his neck and force him down to my collarbones again. I need this, I need to feel this before I die, and I need to give myself to him and have him do the same.

When the first cool and tentative touch comes to my breasts through my shirt, I remember lolling my head helplessly and my body moving of its own accord. This seems to be something normal, because he continues to touch me with feather light touches and flicks. A fire is burning through me so intense I think I’ll be the one to burst into ash as opposed to him. When my hot skin is finally exposed to the cool night air, and my shirt discarded against one of the trees, the warmth and cold melt together to create a strange and new feeling zip through me, something like Angel’s touch. But not quite, so I rub myself shamelessly against his body, but he still takes his time around my breasts before lowering his head to touch them with this tongue. I shout out to the trees and the wind, and the dirty town of Sunnydale, but no one hears me.

Part 9

When I wake up in the morning, I feel light and airy, like I’ve just been thoroughly cleaned out. My hazy mind registers the memories of last night, and I blush at my wanton behavior. Angel had slid his head down between my legs, making love to me with his lips, teeth, tongue, and fingers. He used every trick he knew, and brought me mindless ecstasy so many times that I feared I was insane from it. When I’d finally pushed weakly on his shoulders to stop the pleasure from bordering on pain, he moved back up my body. I knew that he would never let my pleasure turn into pain; he would never hurt me. After he had brought me bliss a countless number of times without asking for anything in return, he had carried my boneless body back here and tucked me in with a chaste kiss to the forehead.

Now I’m awake, and despite the lazy aftershocks my body is still feeling after the experience, I feel incredibly embarrassed that I had exposed myself so aggressively. I think he enjoyed it, but I’m not sure. I wonder if this changes something between us, if he hates me now or I was bad. He’s probably used to more experience, and I’d have to say that he’s incredibly experienced himself. The things that he made me feel last night – they’re indescribable and I’m not sure how much I’d want to describe it. But it was still a beautiful thing; I’d have to admit that much.

While I’m enjoying my breakfast, Oz sits down next to me and eyes me. I wonder what’s going on; everybody seems to know something about me except me. I dismiss it and instead focus on the battle I’ll be facing today. It’s the first one of my life and one of the most important. I can’t afford to lose this one, and I can’t afford to let them win. I stare down into my cereal, my appetite fleeing at the thought of the possible death that I could face today.

“Buffy,” Cordelia says behind me. Her voice rings with insincerity and tactlessness. But then, as I’ve come to know Cordelia, she’s always been like that. “Don’t die today, Buffy. I’ll be rooting from…back here. Just come back.” A desperation enters her voice that scares me a little, and again I’m thinking that everyone here knows something that I don’t. I nod solemnly and continue eating my cereal. I’m told twice more by Wesley and Giles to prepare today; we will be leaving in four hours or less. At these words I drop my spoon in the large portion of my cereal that I haven’t eaten and leave it there. There is something inside my stomach that’s gnawing, and I can’t look at any food without the thought of vomiting.

I read and mull around for a while, refusing to train and doing anything that will take my mind of the nervousness of the impending battle. I don’t see Angel around anywhere, but that’s good. I don’t want to rush into anything with him; last night was more than enough embarrassment and awkwardness for a whole year. I talk with the others, listening to Tara’s slight and familiar stutter before going back to my room.

I press shaky fingers into my wrists, wondering what I should do. My head shoots up, and I feel something other than nervousness creep up my spine. I instinctively turn towards where my large vampire is looming, hovering near the doorway. “Hey,” I say softly, unsure of how to start the conversation.

“Hey,” he replies seriously, and deftly stalks toward me, taking my hand in his. The awkwardness dissolves in the small gesture, and I smile up at him. I lean into him with a sigh, just wanting the quiet solitude of his body. In a half an hour I will either be meeting my death or my victory.

“About last night,” I start unsteadily, but he shushes me quickly. I’m guessing that he senses my insecurity.

“It was beautiful,” he says firmly. “There was nothing I would have changed. I still love you, Buffy. Don’t even think any different.”

Suddenly my throat is clogging up again, and I’m angry with myself. Maybe if I could just stop my damn crying for a second, I could think clearly and I wouldn’t be so weak. “I-I liked it too,” I said feebly, and I feel a smile through my hair, where his mouth is pressed to my scalp. “And I do love you. I just wanted you to know that, in case…”

“No,” he says harshly. He becomes angry whenever we touch this subject. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m the Slayer or because he can’t stand the thought of losing me. I’d like to think it’s the latter. “We’re not going to talk about such things, Buffy. Don’t even think about that. It’s not going to happen.”

“I l-love you so much,” I say into his chest. The sob is telling in my voice, and in the way I’m desperately burying my face into him. I want to hide my weakness in him, shield myself from the world through him. His arms squeeze me hard against him, and I can hear myself creak. It doesn’t hurt, but he hugs me hard enough to convey what he feels. But then, I can feel that with every spark of his skin against mine.

-- I see them in the distance, my eyes suddenly sharp in the dark. The cracked windows of the broken down factory look like the jagged teeth of a monster, come to swallow me into death. I gulp and feel the coolness of Angel’s hand squeeze mine harder as we approach the abandoned place. Willow is off in a nearby field, casting a protection spell. Angel tugs me in front of him violently, and I’m not so sure about this. He whispers in my ear in his gentle way.

“Buffy, remember, like I told you, this is all an act.” Yes, that was the plan. He pretends that he’s Angelus and he’s captured a Slayer, and at the last minute I lash out and take them unprepared. Sort of a Trojan Horse method, if you will. Giles definitely has been tutoring me well over the past month. Now let’s see if I’ve done just as well in the fighting arena. “Remember: I love you,” he whispers with a final kiss to the top of my head, before we come within sight of the entrance to the decrepit place.

His demeanor changes drastically in a small amount of time; he suddenly tugs me along beside him with brutality. He slips into his demon visage with little effort. I’ve only seen it a few times before, but it’s nothing to flinch at. I trust him far too much to be affected by something as minimal as appearance.

His left arm encircles my shoulders nearly painfully as he drags me into the place, and I see Drusilla and Spike up close for the first time in my life. They certainly are…dramatic. She’s beautiful and I can see how Angel chose to sire her. Her daguerreotypes didn’t do justice to her. On the flip side, Spike has a cruel and calculating look of beauty about him, cold and pale. Nothing like the soft luminescence of Angel’s eyes. This is more dark and brutal, and sly. I try to turn my face away and feel Angel squeeze me a little harder.

“Daddy, what are you doing? I thought Daddy had gone astray. She’s a tasty one, isn’t she Spike?” I’ve heard that Drusilla was crazy, but no one ever bothered to tell me that she talks in riddles.

“Ducks, stay here,” Spike says casually, coming closer but still keeping his distance. I feel Angel’s now cruel fingers grip my chin with the force of steel, making me face my captors.

“Angelus,” he greets solemnly, and a little mockingly. “Last I heard, you had a nasty soul shoved down your throat.”

“Oh, I lost it, Spikey. First chance I got, that damn thing was shot out of me like you out of your mother when you were born. But then, you and the soul are kind of the same.”

Spike lets out a nasty laugh and they greet each other casually. Apparently, it doesn’t take much to fool Spike. Or maybe it’s just that Angel is such a good actor. I have no idea. His grip is bordering on painful, but like I said, Angel never lets it get that far.

“So who’s this?” Spike asks with no small amount of interest in his voice. “The Slayer,” Angel actually spits through a mouthful of fangs. “Supposed to bring the whole city down, be the downfall of the Master. And her blood is also prophesized to be so damn sweet you’d never have to feed again after tasting her.”

“Really?” Spike says, his interest immediately captured. He studies me like a piece of meat and quirks an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve never heard of a ‘Slayer’, but just the name makes me quiver. She sounds like her blood should be good. Maybe I should test,” he remarks, gently tipping my chin up to expose my throat. Angel told me to fight back and be feisty, so I wrench my chin down and Angel grasps my neck, his fingers digging into my scars.

“Well, Spike, it’d be hitting two birds with one stone. We feed from the Slayer, get the drink and fuck of our lives, then she’s out of this world and no longer a threat.” Spike lets out a hoarse laugh at this.

“I’ve always loved the way you think, Angelus,” he says, clapping Angel, heartily on the back. All the while I try to look terrified and struggle against Angel’s grasp. Looking terrified isn’t exactly hard at this point.

“Maybe we should keep her a few weeks and torture her to make her ripen,” Angel suggests, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the thought. Being exposed to this side of Angel, even if it is only play, is harder than I thought it would be.

They soon lock me in a room, and I wonder what they’re saying, what Angel is trying to convince Spike of. In the next room, through the thin walls, I can hear Drusilla talking to herself, or someone else who isn’t real. I slump against the cold, stone wall and rest my head back against it. This wasn’t originally part of the plan, but we both agreed that after meeting Dru and Spike we might have to play things by ear. I look at my surroundings: cold, dank, and wet. No furniture, simply four stone walls. I guess that’s what you’d get in a factory.

I hear the muted voices of Spike and ‘Angelus’ twenty minutes later, their shoes echoing on the floors loudly. I’ve already checked the lock a thousand times, and even the barred window. Not that I’d actually escape…just if something goes amiss, I need to know my escape roots. But I’m firmly barred in the room. I know that if something does happen, I have Angel to rely on, but these two are still incredibly strong and smart. My body tenses automatically in fighting stance, and my heartbeat increases two fold. Not only am I preparing myself for impending battle, but I’m skittering at the thought of them killing us both in this dirty, abandoned place. At the thought of never seeing my friends and loved ones again, and not saving the world.

The lock shakes for a little bit, before opening. I briefly ponder Drusilla’s clairvoyant abilities. Apparently she’s able to see the future, but she didn’t see this coming. I want to smile at this thought but clamp it down at the look on Spike and Angel’s faces. Spike is first, coming toward me with open arms. Unfortunately my hands are tied so I can’t shove him away. I’m going to wait to use my legs with Angel’s consent. He is behind Spike, and his face is grim and weary, the evil smirk gone.

Spike reaches out to rip my clothes off, presumably, and I push my upper body against the cold stone and kick out with my lower body. Spike gives an ‘oomph’ as my legs catch him in the lower stomach and the groin. I quickly rub myself out of my restraints and take off for the door. I’m trusting that Angel will take care of Spike, especially while he’s down, and go to look for Drusilla. The sounds of fighting emanate loudly from the room, and now I’m sure that Dru is aware of what’s going on. Or at least that something is going on. She comes out of her room and studies me sharply. I realize that I’ve severely underestimated her as she becomes prone and stalks toward me. She grabs my arm and I quickly slam her into the wall, but despite her waifish appearance she’s extremely strong, and quickly shakes off the blow.

Her hand shoots out and her perfectly manicured nails catch me across the cheek. I pay no attention to the stinging pain or the blood running down my face. Instead I concentrate on looking into her eyes to see what her pending moves might be. Her face shifts at the scent of my blood and a brutal battle ensues.

She’s relentless, and I’m fading fast. I’ve never been in a real battle before, never experienced this much pain. My bones are starting to ache and my skin is starting to prickle and she’s none the worse for wear. Suddenly I see an open spot and remember my stake in my pocket. You can call it luck, or skill, or fate, whatever, but I drive that stake and hit her heart. Regardless of my weary body I want to cry out in joy as I inhale the dust that she explodes into. I hear the heavy thump of boots not far behind me before I’m tackled to the ground.

“Where is she?” Spike growls in my ear, and I struggle against his grasp but he has his fangs at my throat and his arm is nearly crushing my chest.

“I-I don’t know,” I answer shakily. I’m not exactly sure what else to say. I should have just never answered at all.

“BULLSHIT!” He screams hoarsely. “Where is she?” His voice is suddenly soft and deadly. My chest is starting to heave with lack of oxygen and the pain coursing through my every nerve, and I’m starting to worry about Angel. Shouldn’t he be my partner here? And where’s Willow with that protection spell? He starts to slowly crush me before I feel his hands pried violently off my body and a growl echo off the walls. The growl grows into a roar as Spike’s fangs delicately scrape my jugular. I scramble away from him as he’s pulled back, mindless of the blood pouring out of my temple, cheek, and the slight trickle down my neck. I spin around to see Angel throw Spike in a fit of rage. He crashes through the nearest wall and it collapses ungracefully on him.

“Come on!” He growls, grabbing my hand harshly and tugging me behind him. This is no time for tenderness; I can understand his haste.

The weather has made an abrupt change, because when we go outside it’s a downpour. The oily rain burns my cuts and my skin as we run hurriedly back to our underground haven. I’m only praying to whatever God exists, and even some that don’t, that Willow is okay and she merely fumbled with the spell and wasn’t kidnapped.

I’m pushed clumsily out of the elevator and I stumble a little and almost fall, but he catches me from behind. I wonder if he in fact is Angelus because almost all of his gentle and calm behavior is gone. He digs his fingers into my arms and I wince. Every nerve that I possess is just about at its breaking point, and I’m still in a state of shock from the fact that I actually killed Drusilla. THE Drusilla. My thoughts are rudely interrupted as I’m spun around.

I look up into his eyes, frightened of him for the first time. I’m also soaking and the cold is penetrating me to the bone, affecting me worse than all my gashes. I stand stock still, watching his eyes, waiting for him to make a move. I’m afraid that if he drops me I’ll just fall to the floor, like a rag doll.

He looks at me until his face suddenly gives way, almost like ice melting. He then crushes me in his arms, and I shiver a little harder, but he just holds me close. I don’t say anything. I thought he was dead, I thought I was dead, and Willow still could be dead. Oh God…Tara.

I feel his chest give little heaves and it’s then that I realize he’s sobbing into my shoulder. The crusted blood on my left cheek is starting to sting a little bit, and I just want to take a hot shower. Not that I don’t love him, and want to hug him, I’m just not used to this and I need a little time to sort myself out. To think about what just happened and figure out what’s still happening. But, out of habit or love or duty, I soothe him and stroke his damp back, and run my hands through his cold, wet hair.

Part 10

I step out of the shower and dress quickly, dropping into my bed. I still feel oily and dirty, and my cuts sting and pulse. Angel and I haven’t spoken except for his breakdown. I didn’t ask for an explanation. I don’t need one right now; I just need to close my eyes and block out everything, like I’m underwater. I can just forget, and the pain will temporarily dissolve, and the fear and hate. In a couple of weeks I will be fighting something so much worse than Drusilla, and I didn’t even hurt Spike. For the first time I’m feeling self-doubt.

I stare blankly at the wall, feeling the neon glow of the lights too harsh on my eyes. I turn them down, but not without a few creaks and cracks to my body. I thought Slayers were supposed to heal fast and handle anything. Or maybe it’s my emotions that are running my body, I don’t know. I know I’m confused, and I don’t want to be with anyone. Everything else that I’ve come across before has been alone, and it’s one of the best ways that I deal.

Almost as if on cue, I sense Angel behind me. I’d say it’s because he’s a vampire, but there’s something deeper to it. I don’t know what, and I’m not quite sure I’m ready to admit what. I squeeze my eyes shut; he’ll probably want to talk and work things out and I’ll have to turn him away. Sometimes I think he understands me completely, and other times I think that he just doesn’t know when to give up.

“In a couple weeks you’ll be facing the Master, Buffy. We need to train now more than ever.”

“I understand,” I say tersely.

“I just wanted to…to tell you.” He’s guarding something, I can tell. For the past few weeks everyone around here seems to know something that I don’t. And it’s pissing me off. But I figure I’ll need that anger, when it comes time to face the Master. I won’t need crying or to share my feelings, I’ll need raw anger. Lost in thought, I fail to notice Angel’s large hand come to rest on the curve of my side. I jump a little, and I feel the hand recede. He probably thinks that I’m scared. I’ll admit, I was a little shaken up by that whole debacle, but I’m over it. I’m onto bigger things now. I think I am, at least.

“Listen, Buffy, about today…I-”

“Don’t apologize,” I cut in a little sharply. “It’s okay, I’m over it.”

“No,” he says firmly. But it’s not harsh, like Angelus. It’s just gentle and firm, like the pressure of his lips when he kisses me. “I’m going to say this. You-you went through a lot today and I’m proud of you. And I am sorry, and I am going to apologize, because you deserve it. It’s just…when I saw you about to die, something snapped inside of me and I went a little overboard. On top of that, I’d already put on the persona of my soulless self and everything just kind of made a lethal combination. I…” his voice cracks a little and he’s unable to continue.

“Please,” I say in a small voice, “please just go. I need some time alone.” I don’t see him leave, but I feel his presence recede as I fall into a sleep that’s dry and webbed with more nightmares.

I hear later that Willow was okay, but something went wrong with her magicks. She apologized so profusely about it that she was nearly crying. She said that she couldn’t believe that she had almost killed me and I only reassured her numbly. I don’t know why she was having such a big reaction; I wouldn’t have died. It seems a little dramatic.

****

He gives me my space. A lot. We barely even talk over the next week. I soon realize that I need someone desperately to lean on and I want to tell him but my pride is stuck in my throat like sawdust. He barely looks at me and I try to get his attention without directly coming out and saying it, but I can’t. I’m kind of childish like that.

On the eighth day I sit on my bed, unsure of what to do. We’ve been training heavily; he’s been coming down on me harder. Other than that, he walks around oblivious to me. On my bed I ponder if he hates me or not. Maybe he just took up to his limit and he doesn’t love me anymore; maybe I piss him off too much. My insecurities get the best of me in that room and I lose track of time, staring off into space. Other than my thoughts, I’m dimly aware of the cold that has once again flooded my body, in spite of the warmth of my surroundings.

Amidst my concentration, I hear the dim murmurs of voices. It’s a little surprising that in my state I can hear so acutely, but I guess it’s because of my concentration. It scares me a little, but I recognize everyone in the group, except me. I’m not there. A lonely pang hits my heart before I harden instantly and concentrate on their conversation.

“…Really going to happen?”

“No,” I hear Angel say gruffly, “we’ll be there and it won’t happen. It won’t.”

“Well, we all appreciate your optimism dead boy, but let’s be real here. It’s a prophecy, and it’s going to happen. It’s in one of the codexes. Just as sure as she’s going to save the world, she’s going to die to do it. She’s going to spill her own blood at the world’s expense.”

“It can’t…it won’t,” Tara says. She sounds so far away, or maybe that’s because my heart is thumping so loud in my ears. I’m instantly snapped back to reality, the glaze over my eyes disappearing. I’m going to die…? I’m going to die. I try not to phrase it as a question. I mean, after all, it is a fucking prophecy, so it must be true. It’s written in stone. My face grimaces as I try to hold the tears in. I always knew that I was going to die, but I didn’t know that it was so concrete. Whenever I said that so nonchalantly I always thought there was at least a chance I’d live. But now it’s either the world or me, and there’s not much of a choice to make.

I feel like screaming, like acting out, like doing something extremely immature. Doing something to release all the emotions that are pent up inside of me. And, just my luck, the only person that understands me has become cold and distant because of me. It’s all my fault, it’s all my fault. I can’t escape; I don’t want to escape. I don’t want to shirk my duties as a Slayer for my own selfish reasons. I just want to crawl inside of myself until the time comes, the time to die.

A few minutes later I hear my name being called. I wonder why it’s always me, me, me. Can’t they ever give me a fucking break and just let me be in peace for a few minutes? I don’t answer, just sit there, trying to calm myself. I don’t know how much that’s going to work, though. Nervousness racks my frame.

“Buffy!” Willow keeps calling. She calls it right up to my room, then just stands there, staring. I’m lying on my bed with my back to her, taking slow, deep breaths. I’m trying to control whatever madness is raging through me, but I have a tenuous hold on it. I can feel her pity burrowing into me with her eyes and suddenly I just want to slap her, and then shake her. I want to yell at her and tell her not to feel sorry for me; I knew this day was coming. I just didn’t know it’d be so soon. I’m almost nineteen, do I deserve to die? I guess it really doesn’t matter what I do or don’t want, or what I deserve. We’re talking the world; this is major stuff.

“Buffy…we need to plan. For the Master.”

“Okay,” I say. It doesn’t sound sad or happy, it sounds stilled, trapped in the air.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m…fine, Willow. Be there in a second.”

But I don’t go there in a second. My body recedes within itself and goes into kind of a trance-like state. I’m debating heavily whether or not I should tell that them I know, and that I know they’ve been hiding it from me. I think I should just bury it inside and keep living life obliviously. That’s the right thing to do, but I can’t bury it, no matter how I feel. My eyes pick out this little spot on the wall and almost crush it with their glare. It hurts after awhile, my eyes are becoming like jelly from staring for so long.

Then I feel him walk in, and I can’t bear to look at him. He hates me, I know he does, and he probably pities me too, because I’m going to die. To save the world, I’m going to die. I’ll never see the fruits of my labor. My dad always said that I would go to hell, so I guess I’ll find out in about two and a half weeks. I don’t know why we picked that exact date; I guess it was just a good time to die.

“Buffy,” he says in that smooth way, and I just want to punch him, or run, or do something to stop this aching inside. I feel like something hollowed out. “Buffy,” he’s lowered his voice to a whisper. I feel like screaming at him, “WHAT?!” But the words are climbing so slowly out of my throat that they don’t come.

I feel one of his fingertips trail along my back, and immediately goose bumps shadow all over my body. I take a deep shuddering breath with closed eyes. What is he doing? Eventually the bed dips down as he sits down next to me. I guess he’s gotten over his awkwardness. I don’t know if I have, but I know that he can feel my pain.

“What are you doing Angel?” I ask. My voice sounds thick and tired. I want to roll over, but after overhearing his conversation, I don’t know if I can face him. On top of that, I’m shaken to my core at his violence and his sobbing yesterday.

“Buffy, please forgive me,” he says. I don’t like him pleading, it’s almost shameful, and especially when he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“It’s nothing you did,” I whisper as he rolls me over. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what’s wrong?” He asks me. I sit up and draw my knees to my chest, staring pensively into the air. He keeps his respective distance, hesitant to touch me. I wish he would though; I just need someone that loves me. I’ve been without for so long.

“Angel,” I rasp, turning my eyes towards his. Suddenly my throat is swelling, and my eyes are burning uncomfortably. But I have to get this out. “I know what’s happening; I know I’m going to die.” His face goes dark and he gathers me in his arms. He pulls me so that I rest in his lap, and my body kind of sinks into him. We fit, I realize. Despite how ill fated out destiny is to fit together; we are the perfect puzzle pieces.

“I’m sorry, beloved,” he says in my hair and I just want this day to end. I want it to be over with already, I can’t stand the process of waiting. Somewhere I heard that Joan of Arc was like that, and I wonder if she and I have more in common than just that. She also died. I shudder at this thought. “I wanted to tell you so badly, because it hurt so much, but I believe in you.”

“I always told you that I was going to die in that battle, right?” I offer him a watery smile. He gives me a look.

“You’re still not dying. I will be the dust you breathe in before you die, Buffy. I would do anything just to see you smile. I will not let you die.”

I lean into him, my head resting on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to die.” My voice almost comes out as a whine. “Please don’t die for me. If it’s a prophecy, it’ll probably happen.”

“How did you hear all that?” He suddenly asks.

“I don’t know, somehow I just heard it sitting here in my bedroom. I was trying to zone out kind of…I was mixed up with that whole Drusilla/Spike thing. And the way you acted…You know I trust you, Angel, but you acted like him even after we left.”

“I’m sorry,” he admits, “I just went a little crazy when I saw him hurting you, almost killing you. Plus the prophecy had just recently been translated. I was scared, Buffy, but you have to know that I would never hurt you.”

“I know, I know, I trust you. Let’s not fight, okay? I just want to rest for a little bit, I just want to rest. I want to feel safe.” I cry then, and he holds me and strokes my hair. It’s a gentle and soothing motion that helps stop my tears. I don’t sob violently; they just slip out onto his shirt. I descend into a choking sleep.

Part 11

I awake to soft kisses along my throat and I arch my neck. I know it’s him, and for a second I think this is a dream. Then I come fully awake and I know it’s not, and my heart starts to beat faster as he strokes my stomach tentatively through my clothing. We’ve only done this act a few times before, and it’s still frighteningly new to me. One time I even did it to him, and at first I was so scared I could barely move. He was huge, giant, tremendous. I’d seen a lot, but that was the first time that I’d actually had fear for what I was feeling. And seeing.

I’m determined. Now that he’s started kissing me, I want to take it all the way tonight. I’m going to live for a few more weeks, and I need to carpe diem. I know I’ll never feel this way again, or experience this pleasure again. I don’t know if he’s ready yet, but I need to let him know that I am.

I’m snapped back to reality as he wordlessly caresses my whole body, concentrating his cool mouth on the base of my neck. “Angel,” I whisper, and he pulls back immediately, staring at me in the light of the room. His eyes are shadowed and I can’t exactly tell what he’s thinking. Of course, that’s nothing new; I can never tell what he’s thinking. “I’ve never…well, I haven’t…”

He smiles, like a matching striking in a dark alley. His large hand comes up and cups the side of my face, pushing some of my hair back behind my ear. “I know,” he whispers. “I know. And if you don’t want to do this, I understand.”

“No,” I declare in a firm whisper, “I want to do this. I m-may not live to get to do this ever again, and I want to.” His face melts a little, into a sad look before he shakes it off and devotes himself to once again making me feel like some kind of goddess. He pulls back just to look at me, and we lay on my bed side by side as he gazes at me with a smile. His smiles are like the most precious linen in the world. No, better, they’re like silk. Silk flowers that bloom slowly, but rarely.

“I love it when you smile, the way you smile,” I whisper as I put my arms around him.

He looks down at me and pulls me a little closer. “I love you,” he responds, starting to kiss my hairline, then moving down the side of my face.

“You’re beautiful,” I sigh as he kisses my cheek. He pauses for a second in what I’m assuming is surprise before continuing on. His fingers hedge on the hem of my shirt before I raise my arms in submission. He’s seen my body before, but somehow this is more intimate and infinitely more embarrassing. I am scared, somehow more scared than when I was facing Spike and Drusilla.

My bra is simple, and I feel a flush color my cheeks. It’s not sexy or alluring, but the way that he’s looking at me says that he doesn’t seem to care. He palms my breasts hesitantly, and I suck in a breath, closing my eyes. Nothing I’ve ever read or heard of could have prepared me for what this kind of thing feels like. His lips setting fire to my skin, his eyes staring into so far, I already feel like he’s inside of me. It’s so scary, but I need to let my body relax; I’m really tense.

He flips me over gently and takes off my bra with deft fingers. I don’t want to think about where he learned these skills of undress; I just prepare myself for more of his touch.

He separates the hair spread over the nape of my neck, and I squirm nervously. His fingers trace over the lines until I feel him duck down and lay his lips there, gently. My first instinct is to cover myself up, or scream out in terror, but I bite my lip and try to let the tension out of my body once more.

“It’s okay, let it out,” he whispers, as he just rests his mouth against the scars. “Let out that pain, Buffy, give it to me.” I let myself kind of sink into the bed and concentrate on the feeling of his teeth scraping gently against the marks, making them his own. I let the trust open up, like jasmine blooming at midnight.

“God,” I moan a little, when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. It seems like he spends hours there. I wriggle a little, trying to tell him what I want, but he’s infinitely patient and determined to take his time with me.

Then he suddenly moves down, his large hands cupping my shoulder blades as he plants kisses in between them. Fine hairs on the top of my back stand up as goose bumps ripple across my skin. I can feel his grin against my skin and arch my back just a fraction of an inch, silently begging for more. Does he really want me to beg?

“Please,” I sigh unexpectedly.

“Shhh, beloved,” he whispers. He sounds delighted. I can’t see his smiling face, but I want to.

He travels down my back with his lips and comes to my lower back. Finally he rolls me over again and I stare up at him. His hands slide down and his fingers go inside of me, and I feel like the world is breaking apart around me, leaving only him. His mouth is everywhere and anywhere. It makes me forget the ugliness of the world and myself and there’s only him. There’s only been always him. He’s embedded inside of me as deeply as my personality, and the prospect of losing him with my death scares me more than the death itself.

I push my mind away from that and concentrate on his mouth on mine, on warming his tongue with mine. Today is today and I shouldn’t think about the future. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Or burn that bridge that bridge, either one.

The pain is minimal when he slides into me, and I always thought that it would somehow be much more. Especially given how large he is. But he takes his time, like with everything, and he makes me feel good when he’s inside of me. Then the pain melts like hot butter and it’s just us, moving and dancing and sparring and loving, all rolled into one. Pleasure rears itself into my body, like pinpoints assaulting me all at once, and he makes a sound.

I cry out as it finally hits me, and my life rushes through me with my orgasm. I clutch him so close I expect to hear bones cracking, but he only slides his arms under my back and pulls me up so we’re chest to chest.

Afterwards I lie in his arms and stare blankly up into the darkness. We made love. Is that what we did? Is that The Act? I always thought that it would be different. Dirtier, somehow. Whenever I hear about it, it’s sweaty and nasty and a sin. But this was like a breath of life being pushed back into me; it was like our souls being sewn together with an opalescent thread. My body feels weak and tired, and a little at peace. I’ve decided to let go my death for now. What’s done is done and all I can do is try to save the world. Somehow I can tell that he’s still awake, through my hazy brain. I wonder if people usually talk after this, or if they just stay pensive and silent.

He looks down at me, and I look up at him, and something has definitely changed. It’s not just physical. I mean, yeah, I feel a little sore down there, but inside I feel different. Emotionally, mentally. I can’t explain what being with him felt like; it’s an impossible thing. To put it to words would be defamation. It was the closest I’ve ever felt to another being. Maybe that’s why we’re not talking, because what we just did can’t be explained or justified or described. It’s just a state of feeling, an ecstasy that neither of us has felt before.

He rubs the bridge of his nose underneath my jaw line, right where my pulse is strongest. That’s a vulnerable spot, and to think that he could just turn his head and sink his teeth into it blows my mind. But I know he won’t; he’d never.

“I love you,” he whispers into my ear as I close my eyes and tighten my grasp on him. I nod, and I know that he feels the string of mutuality towards him. I don’t need to say it; he just knows.

Part 12

When I wake up, I know that he’s there, staring at me. His eyes look like there’s a fire flickering inside of them, but my room doesn’t have a fireplace. They’re full of so much: guilt, terror, anger, love, devotion. It’s hard to put those feelings into words, it’s hard to see them so blunt right in front of me. I know that he too is just as scared of my death as I am. But he needs to let it go too.

“So I guess tomorrow’s the day,” I whisper up to him. Tomorrow we go, we face the Master. It’s been enough putting around and waiting for a fight to arise, we need to take our offense to him. No doubt he knows about me now; Spike’s anger definitely would have not gone unheard if his mate had been killed. Something twists inside of me; is that what Angel would do for Darla if he had been in that situation? No, he said that they weren’t mates; he was just her mate. I never really thought of that as a one-sided thing though. Giles has taught me a little bit in the mate perspective, about how they take on each other. It’s a mating for life, not unlike wolves, or so I understand. They exchange blood, become fiercely protective over one and other, and would die for each other. It’s as close to loving as, I guess, two demons can get. Just life partners, really. But no vampire has ever taken a mate outside of its species. I shake these thoughts off. That thinking is ridiculous, I’m going to a place of no return.

“Tomorrow you will kill the Master and everything will return to its rightful order,” he says vehemently and I smile a little. Whatever you say, Angel.

“You keep lying to me,” I joke him and his voice becomes cold, his eyes hard. I don’t know why he takes my death so personally. I guess it’s because he loves me, but it’s strange, the way a two hundred fifty year old vampire shakes when I mention my name and ‘death’ in the same sentence.

“I’m not going to lose you,” he tells me in a deadly voice, and for a moment I’m scared, before I notice that same soft quality that his eyes always take on. I slide a hand over his belly.

“You’re right, but we have to face facts here, Angel. There is some possibility that I’m going to die. You’ll never lose me, but we can’t avoid that fact.”

“I know, but I’m going to protect you.”

I pull him a little closer. “But that’s how I’m supposed to save the world, Angel. I heard the whole prophecy. I’m supposed to spill my blood to kill the Master. I’m not sure where and when, but I’ll know soon.”

“Buffy, there’s going to be another way, I swear,” he says firmly, and for a second, I almost believe him. It’s nice to have something like that beside you, inside of you. Even if it is false comfort, it takes you away from reality for a second. He leans over me and puts his hand on my stomach. A smile crosses his face, a full one, and I smile back. I wonder sometimes if he feels the same volume that I feel for him.

“Was I…” once again that insecurity comes to the fore, those feelings that I’ve only allowed him to see. His smile remains on his face. “Was I good last night?”

“I don’t think I can explain what that meant to me last night, Buffy. There are no words that do justice to the happiness that I felt. In two and a half centuries I have never felt anything close to that. You bring out things in me…I didn’t even know they existed.” His eyes are flickering with awe and love and lust and I try to stare him down but it’s just not possible. Maybe my eyes look the same, I don’t know.

He knows what I want; he always knows what I want. Now I believe that I can die happy, knowing that I’ve found him and love and joy. We’re two of the same soul, two halves poured into different molds. When he moves forward and kisses me softly, it’s exactly how I want it, exactly how I want to feel it. Then he moves over me and inside me and he surrounds me, just like he always has. Somehow I feel like I’ve known him for a hundred years. I don’t regret his vampirism at all; it brought him to me.

***

I’m sparring by myself, trying to prepare for tomorrow, when I hear someone come up behind me. I quickly turn around, slapping my staff on the ground. I see a startled Giles nearly dropping his tea on the mats. I’ve been more than a little jumpy lately.

“Buffy,” he says quietly, and I can tell that he’s about to tell me something important. I nod towards him and start going through my kata. I don’t need Giles giving me lovey-dovey speech talks right now; I need strength. Tomorrow I go to my death. I close my eyes and try to block out his words. He can tell I’m not listening.

“Buffy, listen. I won’t take your immaturity any longer. You need to hear this.”

“I already know that I’m going to die tomorrow, Giles, and I’ve already dealt.”

He sputters a little before managing some incredulous words. “How-how did you know?”

I shrug in cool nonchalance. “I just knew, okay? Let’s not worry about how or why, I know and I’m okay with it.” That’s the last of the words for a while. He goes away to the others, I assume to tell that that I somehow found out about the prophecy. He doesn’t offer any comforting words or soothing gestures; somehow he knows that I don’t need that right now. It’ll only take my concentration off of what’s truly important. I train for a little longer, preparing myself, meditating. Angel knows better than anybody not to come near me at this time; it’s crucial.

I center all my concentration and do yoga, kickboxing, anything that I can muster. I want to be a warrior, to be fearless and well trained like the samurai that I’ve heard so much about. But no matter how much I try to shove it away, the fear of death still is writhing within me. It’s a dark thing that mocks and taunts me. I need to go into this thing with a brave face. When I spill my blood, it’ll all be okay, because the world will be safe, and hopefully I’ll still be residing in some ethereal plane. My face sets in a scowl at this thought. Just when I find someone that I truly love, and friends that truly care about me, I can’t spend time with them. In some weird way, it makes sense. It’s the pattern of the irony of my life.

When I think about him my mind goes all blank and fuzzy and I throw down my sparring staff in frustration. My mind floats to last night and all my concentration dissolves. This makes me angrier. What am I sparring for anyway? I should just offer my blood to The Master and get it over with, or whatever. I storm off angrily toward the library, toward where I know that everyone in the little gang will be hiding out and sharing their thoughts and secrets without me.

I stomp into the room and glare at everyone, and the talking eventually quiets down in my presence. Angel looks at me with fluid, knowing eyes and I almost lose all my confidence for what I’m about to say.

“Listen everyone, I know about this goddamn prophecy, so you can stop talking about me behind my back. I don’t know the full extent of it, but I know that I’m gonna die tomorrow, so you can stop hiding everything and trying to be ‘secretive’. If you could just help me out tomorrow, I would really appreciate it, because I’m sick of everyone looking at me like I’m some kind of alien. I’m a human, dammit! Just because I’m The Chosen One, or some bullshit like that, doesn’t mean that I deserve to be quarantined!”

They’re all startled into silence. Despite the fact that I’m supposed to save the world, none have them have ever really looked to me as a ‘leader’. That was always Giles’s job. But now that I know what my purpose is, I’m going to take some initiative and become a leader. I’m the power in this situation, and I need to use it and act on it.

“Okay,” I continue, “if we’re finished here, I’m the one saving the world, so I’ll just go train now. Not that I’ll need it, but it still helps.” I realize I’m babbling and clamp my mouth before walking back out as gracefully as I can.

An immediate blush covers me as I storm out of the room. I don’t know if I just made an ass out of myself, or if they were really listening to me. I look backwards toward the room before bumping into someone. For a second I wonder if it’s Angel, but I didn’t sense him and he couldn’t be in front of me so fast. But you never know, all that vamp stealth.

I look up to see a dark blonde-haired man. He’s tall and his coloring is light, kind of like mine. He looks friendly enough, except for the soldier-esque stuff that he’s wearing. That freaks me out a little. I don’t sense any demon in him, so I only step back and scrutinize suspiciously. He sticks his hand out in a cheerful gesture and smiles at me. It’s a nice smile.

“Hey, you must be Buffy,” he tells me. He sounds too happy. “I’m Riley.” I’m silent. “I’m helping you guys with an underground military facility called the Initiative. Since the Master has taken over we’ve sort of been cleaning up the streets around Sunnydale. Of course, with you here that’ll all change.”

“Uh, yeah I guess,” I say quietly. I don’t know whether or not he knows about the prophecy, but even if he did I don’t think he’d really care. He doesn’t know me; he just knows that I’m here to save the world and he’ll be able to lend a helping hand with his ‘Initiative’.

“Are you okay?” He asks me after a second, and I realize I’ve been staring off into space.

“Yeah, I’m fine, tired I guess.”

“You want to go somewhere and talk?”

On an impulse, “sure, fine.” I don’t know if I can trust Riley, but he seems homey enough right now, and I’m not sensing any bad vibes. And maybe it will be nice to just talk to someone that I don’t know, without any complications or bad pasts.

“So, you’ve been a Slayer your whole life?”

“Not exactly…” I reply. I’m unsure of how to explain my situation to him. I don’t exactly feel comfortable telling him everything that went on. I could barely do that with Angel.

“Well, how long then?”

“About a year.” I look away in shame, afraid of his judgment, but his expression remains unchanged. “They found me. I was working at a dirty bar on the streets. Angel actually found me.” His face suddenly goes dark and I have a feeling that he doesn’t like Angel.

“That dirty vampire? They shouldn’t have let him touch you; he’s not fit to roam the Earth. I keep telling Giles that, but no one seems to listen to me. I mean, he’s not an asset, he’s a demon! We might as well just invite The Master over for tea as long as we’re involving him in our alliance.” I wince, but realize that I can’t defend him so readily. Riley would probably throttle me if he knew that a vampire was involved with a Slayer prophesized to save the world and this city.

I feel something behind me and my whole body involuntarily tenses. I recognize that feeling. But as soon as I turn my head, it’s just a dark shadow leaving down the hallway. How much did he hear? I feel hurt and distraught, and I’m not sure how to let Riley go without being rude. Fuck that, I think, who cares if I’m rude? I get up and rush toward where I saw the figure move, and Riley’s voice ebbs away in confusion. He calls after me but I ignore him.

“Angel?” I call down the hallway, but I figure he’s gone. I call for a few more minutes before I give up. I can’t just go back to Riley and try to explain, so I decide to get some sleep. I’m sick of the complicated games that Angel is playing with me, that everyone is playing with me. I just want tomorrow to come so I can get it over with and spill my blood or whatever.

I slip into my room unnoticed and take off my shirt as soon as I enter, slamming the door behind me. I wish I could train but my body is sore with all of the training that I’ve already had today, and I’m so tired. My body is too riled up to sleep. I let out a groan as I start pulling down my pants, then I hear someone behind me. I whirl around with fists out to see Angel standing there, looking unsure of what to do. I can’t scream, so I let out a little squeak instead, falling to my bed and scrambling to try to cover myself up. He just stares, not saying anything. Which is really the usual thing.

“What are you doing here?” I say in a low, deadly voice. “I feel like you’re stalking me.”

He sighs, an exasperated sound. “I’m not stalking you Buffy, I thought we already went through this.”

“Yeah, you weren’t before but now you’re hovering around me and Riley and waiting in my bedroom when I-”

“Yeah, just what were you doing with Riley anyway, Buffy?” My face twists into confusion. What is he trying to say?

“Nothing,” I tell him nonchalantly. I rise and pull on a shirt and some shorts. “Why, what do you think I was doing with him?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, and I sit on the bed. I wait for him to say something, but all he does is stare.

“Look, do you actually have something to do in here, or do you just want the free show?” I ask him impatiently. All this staring and not doing is getting on my nerves.

“I wanted to talk,” he says curtly, “but I guess you’re not up to it.”

I sigh and flop back on my bed. “Whatever”, I mumble into my pillow.

“Don’t pull away from me Buffy,” he warns, and suddenly my anger gets the best of me.

“Me pull away from you? You’re the one that’s all evasive and weird, and I guess that’s just like you, but I’m still pissed because we never communicate! You follow me around and hide in my room and you still have nothing to say to me!” My voice is rising at a dangerous level by now, and he steps towards me quickly and pushes me down into the mattress by my shoulders.

He looks directly at me. “I. Love. You.” I don’t know what to say this; actually I’m a little shocked. “That’s all I have to say. I love you, and I want you to know that. I want you to trust me, and show me every part of you that you have to offer.”

My mouth just kind of half hangs open and my eyes don’t blink. They hurt after awhile, but I can’t stop staring at him. His welcome weight is pressing me into the mattress, and the door is wide open. His mouth unexpectedly comes down onto mine, and it’s cool and welcoming and beautiful, and I shut my eyes and just try to take it in. Every time that I kiss him it’s like rushes of nostalgia and bliss pumping through me. I think about places that I’ve never been to: lives I’ve never lived, and they’re ten times better than this one. But they always involve him.

Before I know it his hands are sliding everywhere, but they’re not lewd gestures of a horny teenage boy, they’re just calm and soothing and light and arousing all at once. I don’t doubt that they’d feel just as wonderful if I’d had ten thousand lovers before him. His mouth moves over my chin and latches onto mine slowly, taking his time. He pulls back and tells me that he also trusts me in my ear, and all I can do is rasp out for him to close the door, because what we’re about to do isn’t for voyeurs.

I try to keep my voice still as he slides inside of me but I can’t help little whimpers so he gently closes my mouth with his own and keeps it there. I had no idea that anything could feel like this, and all the while his fingers are dancing on my skin, sliding over it and making it tighten impossibly. Just when I feel like I’m going to explode, it tightens and twists within me until it crashes. I pant brokenly on his shoulder while he runs his fingers through my hair and kisses my temple. After me, he comes too and it feels wonderful.

When it’s finished I lie fully on top of him, my body sealed to his. I take a big breath and release it before running my fingers through his hair and resting my nose against it. The smell of him is addicting. Inhaled the scent of his hair and felt a deep vibration go through him, echoing into my chest and finally reverberating down my spine into my belly. I’m contented, and I let out a little laugh. His arms come up around me. I can’t remember the last time that I had laughed. I hadn’t laughed since I was a toddler, but the purr tickling its way through my insides made me feel light and airy. I felt his smile against my hair as I kept my face against his head.

Part 13

The next morning Angel getting up awakens me. I had stayed on top of his body all night long, and usually I roll around, unable to sleep. For some reason, I slept really well last night. He moves a little, and I open my bleary eyes on top of his chest and smile up at him. He tries to smile, but in light of what we’re about to do, I can understand his tension. I want to just stay here, and envelop myself in him, but there’s this thing about a Life Calling; you can’t just shrug if off. And prophecies aren’t very easy to shake either. His hands come up my back as he gently pulls me off of him, and I can’t help but feel the spot on his body where I had lain. I’m fascinated with its warmth. He smiles at me and grabs my hand, kissing it quickly before stealing out of my bedroom. I never wanted it this way, he and I hiding our relationship, but I guess we just thought it would be easier if we did. We have enough torment and chaos as it is around here, we don’t need Riley yelling at me for getting involved with Angel, and Giles cleaning his glasses until they break.

Wesley comes into my room and I pretend to be asleep. He shakes me slightly. “It’s time to go, Buffy,” he says, and though I thought I’d put on a brave game face for this day, I still feel this ball of fear in my stomach. It’s more of a knot really. I nod once, before getting out of bed and starting to get dressed for the day.

***

Stealthy people in large groups don’t really cooperate well. Especially when the large amount of them aren’t stealthy. This makes it even harder. Angel and I have taken the head of the group while Riley and a couple of his buddies take the back. I’m glad, because Riley can’t see me slip my hand into Angel’s as we walk toward the center of the city. Of course, we’re taking high roads and back roads and every kind of roads we can, to find a “secret path” to the place. I’ve never been there, I’ve only heard of it. But when we make it inside, I know that all hell will break lose.

Giles and Wesley are talking in hushed tones behind us, occasionally tittering about some stuffy jokes. It’s a forced and nervous laugh; I can feel everyone’s apprehension in the air like fog. I only look into Angel’s eyes and squeeze his hand a little harder. I try to walk closer to him, but I know that if I lean against him, someone is going to pick up on something. It’s too dark to see our hands intertwined, but my head is bathed in moonlight, and Giles will have a fit if I’m leaning it against Angel’s arm.

Finally, we see something rising in the distance, some kind of large building. There are people milling all around it, scenting the air. They’re holding spears, guns, knives, anything they can get their hands on. When I get a little closer, I realize that they aren’t people, they’re demons. Some are vampires; others are a myriad of other sorts. It looks like the circus drove into town outside of that place. But for Sunnydale, I guess it’s normal.

Without realizing it, I take a nervous breath and squeeze Angel’s cooler hand in my own. He looks over at me with trusting eyes, believing eyes, and I wish I could feel the same certainty. I’m wondering just exactly how this final battle with play out. Will The Master drain me on top of the Hellmouth? Yeah, Giles taught me about the Hellmouth. Said that’s why all these damn demons treat this place like their pissing grounds. It’s because the energy from the Hellmouth attracts them and they feed off of it like a drug. The Master lives directly over it; it’s where he gets all his power from, all his domination. Will he drain me over it? Will he throw me inside of it? I’m not sure.

“Buffy!” Giles calls in a harsh whisper, and we stop in a shroud of trees about three hundred yards from The Master’s castle. I guess you’d call it a castle. It really reminds me more of a giant warehouse though.

It’s weird that they don’t sense us. I think that demons have grown so comfortable in Sunnydale that they really don’t care whether or not humans sneak around. It’s just more meals for them to pick off the street, one by one.

“Buffy, we need a plan,” he says frantically, and my hand casually slips out of Angel’s. I wonder if they saw it.

“I have a plan: go in and destroy.” I catch Angel’s affectionate smile out of the corner of my eye.

“That’s not a very adequate plan,” Wes remarks, and I shrug.

“Well you’re not the one getting killed tonight to save the world, so I don’t really think your opinion matters. I hate to be blunt. I can feel the dirty looks that I receive at that comment, especially from the tall one on my left.

“So…what am I supposed to do anyway, spill my blood on the Hellmouth or something?”

“Precisely,” Wesley says. “Except the prophecy states that you’ll be drained atop it, then it’ll suck The Master into another dimension.”

“Along with my dead body,” I say as nonchalantly as I can. Giles blanches and Angel puts his hand on my back a little forcefully. Willow has knowing eyes.

“You guys, let’s go ahead. I think Buffy needs a little time alone.” I flash her a small smile as the rest of them look strangely around each other. Riley backs the group and keeps looking back at Angel and me. Suddenly I don’t care; if I’m going to die, there’s nothing to hide now. They probably all suspected it anyway.

He puts his hand on my cheek and I can feel my throat caving in with the tears. “How can you talk about yourself like that? You’re never going to die, Buffy, not while I’m living. Don’t say things like that.”

I smile helplessly up at him, despite the moisture I can feel in my eyes. “It’s okay, Angel. I need to be brave.”

“No,” he says, bringing his face close to mine. “You don’t,” he whispers against my lips and I lean into him. We don’t kiss; we’re just content in our last alone time, perhaps forever. I hug him to me before releasing him and following the others up the hill toward where the demons lie. Giles and the others probably waiting for me to kill all of them, to fight my way toward the Master. From here on out, it’s just going to be me, Riley, a couple of his buddies, and Angel. He brings his hand up to mine and squeezes it in plain view of everyone. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, I realize. We shouldn’t hide our love away, especially if these are our last few moments on earth. Or, at least, mine. I see Riley study our entwined hands before his face twists into a look of disgust. He quickly shutters it and leads the pack. I can feel his obvious anger, but it’s too late to care. I have other, more important things, than a soap opera, or an immature soldier.

We climb the hill and immediately start fighting while Giles and others recede into the shadows. I catch a glimpse of them setting out things for a spell, and I’m assuming that they’re going to try to do a protection spell on all of us. I just hope that it goes better than the other one, or it maybe me that none of us survive. I know that if I don’t kill the Master, the Giles and Wesley and the others will definitely be found and killed. This pushes up my adrenaline and I start to fight on pure instinct, with raw and violent power. My anger fuels me, as well as determination. I slash demons and vampires left and right, feeling such a rush as I’ve never felt before. I look to see that the others are doing moderately well and keep mowing my way through the guards, up to the back entrance of the warehouse. I’m resisting my urge to yell my frustration, my fear and apprehension out. I need to keep this as quiet as I can.

From here it’s a simple matter of stealth. We steal into the back amongst the dust of the vampires and the slime of the demons. My eyes easily adjust to the darkness that surrounds the place. It’s large, with ceilings that span a long way up. For a Master, this guy sure doesn’t seem very hedonistic. Especially if he’s living in a giant, and might I add dirty, warehouse. I feel a hand search out mine, and I welcome it. Large and cool, I don’t have to look to see who it is. I’m too busy searching out the place, putting my radar out on high alert. I don’t detect anything so I take tedious steps forward, finding boxes to slink behind and shadows to melt into.

“What are we-” Riley starts to whisper before I clap my hand over his mouth. I scowl at him as I hear a rustling and footsteps nearby. We press ourselves to a pile of boxes and hold our breath, except of course, Angel. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to concentrate on the littlest nuances of noise. I hear Spike’s familiar accent and I want to panic, to scream. He hasn’t sensed me yet, so that’s a good sign. But panic is wrapping itself around my bones and squeezing hard.

“That bitch is going to get what she deserves,” he seethes to an unknown comrade. “I might rape her, then torture her. Then maim her and leave her to bleed to death. And what I really don’t get is why bloody Angelus has gone soft. What a fuckin’ wanker. Really, I thought he would have had more balls than to get his rocks off on killing my mate. He’s gonna pay too. And of course, the Master doesn’t believe me, because he’s too bloody focused on the humans running around Sunnyhell.”

Something squeezes violently in my chest. I wonder if we should just ambush now or wait. No, that’s wrong. I should just go upstairs and wait for the bloodletting to begin instead of recklessly offering myself to Spike. Then again, even if Spike takes me, I still might spill my blood to kill the Master, if it is prophesized. As soon as I hear him and the minion leave, with Spike still talking the whole way, I rest my head momentarily back on the boxes behind me.

I open my eyes to see Angel looking at me with confidence, making his eyes look bright, like lightning bugs or something. It’s very beautiful, and it almost pulls me away from my mission. That is, until I hear Riley whispering at me. “Buffy, what are we supposed to do?”

“The plan,” I say bluntly, “we’re going to go up to the master’s lair, wherever that is, and we’re either going to kill him, or he’s going to kill me.”

Riley gives me a strange look, and I can’t face Angel, because I know that he’ll be angry. And fighting and hurt feelings are the last things that I need on my mind to take my concentration off the matter at hand. I see a staircase in the far corner of the large expanse of floor space. It’s dangerous to be so out in the open like this, but we really don’t have a chance. We can’t go back or leave now, and we need to face this. More importantly, I need to face this.

I run, and I can hear them behind me. There’s Angel, Riley, and two of Riley’s army buddies. Too many, I think, as we start climbing the staircase. It should have been just Angel and me. At least that way I could have just died with him, alone in this warehouse. I only want to be with him when I die. I don’t want to deal with Riley and his army pals. I wince at the noise that we make as we climb the metal stairs. The ‘tapping’ is making my teeth grind. If I don’t at least make it to the Master, and I’m found, I know that I’m dead. And I will have accomplished nothing. All our hopes will evaporate, and Giles and Willow and Wes and Gunn and everyone else will die.

I hold my breath as we travel the many mazes of hallways, edging across closed doors with things going on in them that I’d rather not think about. I can hear muffled voices, sometimes muffled screams, and every time I do I feel a comforting hand on my back, on my shoulder, a hand squeezing my own. I want to look at him, but I’m afraid that if I do all my confidence and concentration will melt away and I’ll die without having accomplished anything. I’m going to save all the kisses and looks for when I’m dying in his arms.

I feel a nudge and Riley looks at me questioningly. I put a resolved look on my face and start forward. There’s a great opening at the end where light fans in. It yawns at me, and suddenly I can’t swallow. But I have to, for the fate of the world, regardless of the fate of me. I stalk forward, and I can feel all the males behind me squeezing their stakes, also sensing that we’ve come to the end of our journey.

A rasping voice shoots out in the darkness, like a clawed hand. I can already tell that it’s the Master, regardless of never having seen him before. I don’t concentrate on what they say, only the timbres of their voices. Spike’s voice also pops up in there; they must be in some kind of meeting. I come up on the catwalk hung above all of them and stand there, finally coming into view. There must be at least ten vampires as well as Spike and this ‘Master’. He’s not very nice looking, which is already expected because he’s a vampire. Though, I’ve already had that proven well. My proof comes up behind me. His hand rests on my shoulder blade.

I tense for a few minutes, and I’m not quite sure what I’m waiting for. Maybe my own fear, I don’t know. But I wait, and after awhile the others begin to give me anxious looks. Right as Spike and the Master steep into conversation about me I nod to the others quickly before flipping over the bars and landing square on the large oak table that they’re all surrounding. Signs of terror all come from some of the fledglings, a scowl of pure hatred from Spike, and a knowing smile from The Master.

I hear three more thumps behind me and immediately the fighting begins. It’s a torrent of razor blades, claws and stakes and teeth and screaming. Through all of that I lock eyes with him, wanting to precede every move that he might make. I break away for a quick glance around the place before my eyes rest on a glass globe surrounding the center of the large room. I meet his eyes again and he smirks.

“You didn’t really think that I didn’t know, did you Slayer? Well, I won’t be the one to spill your blood over that thing. I might make you my pet first. Or maybe I’ll just kill you and it’ll all be over with.”

“You…knew about the prophecy?” I say, astonished. He simply nods and steps closer. Amidst all the flurry and chaos of destruction around us, we seem to be having a calm, if deadly, conversation. Nearly civilized, which is off-putting. Though I suppose that’s what he wants.

“Oh, I knew about a lot. The thing that really gets me though, is that Angelus has a soul now. It’s very entertaining, but at the same time incredibly…sad, don’t you think? Oh, I forgot, you don’t think, do you? You just sit around while your little librarian tells you all the plans and lessons for the day. Didn’t you ever ponder what you were doing? Just what you were getting yourself into?” My scars flare red hot, and I can feel fear start to poison me. Am I really going to die here? What if I die without spilling my blood over the Hellmouth? Giles told me that prophecies aren’t set in stone.

I clench my fists and step closer. “That’s not going to happen,” I say, but he has this incredible talent for making me believe things. He’s very persuasive, and I can feel my fists weakening. Someone is calling my name, but I can’t respond. My body just wants to go to Him and be taken out of this world. I step closer toward the Master, and it’s as if everything slows down.

“Yes,” he hisses, “come forth, child.”

Suddenly my body goes weak and I can see something protruding out of the master’s chest. He looks around frantically for a second, his mouth gasping for air he doesn’t need, before he bursts into a million particles. I see Riley standing there, stake still poised.

“Riley!” I shout, and all the fighting immediately stops. Is that all it was? Is that all it took? I don’t understand, I don’t understand why my blood would be needed to open the Hellmouth, if all it took was a good staking. Riley sees his mistake and his eyes immediately turn remorseful. I slump to my knees while the vampires around me stop fighting, merely watching. Angel takes this opportunity to stake a few more until the ones surrounding us are nothing but filth of the floor.

I feel a hand on my shoulder, but don’t move. “Giles I-I don’t understand.” “Buffy…I didn’t tell you everything about the prophecy. I wanted you to focus on one thing at a time.” Suddenly my shock turns to anger.

“Then what DIDN’T you tell me, besides that I’m going to die? You mean you just got me all hyped up for nothing? You just told me that so I’d fight better, harder?” “No,” he shakes his head, possessing that musty calm that he always does. “You still need to spill your blood. I just…don’t know how you’re going to do it. In order for this world to restore itself to the calm it once had, we need to balance out the good and evil. Willow and I were researching this yesterday. When The Chosen One’s blood is spilt over the Hellmouth, the Hellmouth will devour the evil to balance it out. But the prophecy said…a Master vampire…so I’m not sure…” he trails off to wipe his glasses. “Also, we knew that the Master would drain you. However, it doesn’t need all your blood to open up, only a majority. With Fred’s calculations, a Slayer could still live with the amount of blood that is needed.”

I don’t move, trying to take all of this in. I stare at the Master’s dust, only motes floating in the air. Suddenly my mind starts turning, and it’s like a chain reaction. My hand automatically goes up to my neck; I can feel all eyes on me. I know what I need to do. “Uh, Giles,” I say quietly. My voice is raspy. “Can I talk to you?”

I take him over into a corner. “You said that Angel was a Master vampire, right?”

“Yes,” he replies slowly, “he was part of the Order of Aurelius along with the Master.”

I nod my head, and he sees what I’m trying to do. “No, Buffy, you can’t-” “Please, Giles. Just let me do this. I want to make a decision on my own for once.” He looks around then consents slowly. He walks to the others and gives them some flimsy excuse and they walk out, except for Angel. I squeeze my eyes shut in preparation for what I’m about to do. What I’m about to ask of him.

“Spike is dead,” he says, as I approach him. I nod, barely even understanding what he’s saying.

“Angel, I know what to do,” I tell him softly, and confusion comes into his eyes.

“What?” He asks, and I step a little closer. I slide my arms comfortably around his middle.

“I need you to drink,” I say it so low, that I wonder if he heard me, but I know that he did.

“Drink?” He repeats hoarsely.

“Yes, drink me. Over the Hellmouth.”

“Buffy, I can’t,” he says.

“Please, it’s for the world,” I say softly.

He looks away from me and I step a little closer. “Please, Angel. I need you to do this, I can’t just go through all of this to let the world die.” He growls a little and I touch his arm. “I might kill you.”

“No you won’t,” I coax, “I trust you.” At that moment I choose to mold myself to him. “We need a Master Vampire to spill my blood over the Hellmouth. It’ll balance out the evil, and you’re the only Master Vampire that I trust and love.” I look up into his eyes and they’ve turned dark brown with indecision. His hand slides up my back, and I know that he’s accepted without words. I lean my head for a moment against his chest, then step backwards and towards the small glass dome protecting the Hellmouth opening. It takes minimal force to smash the glass. I go back to him and pull him inside the half-dome. Not all of it has shattered, and it looks as though we’re standing inside of an eggshell.

I pull him against me, and bare my neck submissively. I can feel him still for a second, unsure of what to do, before he moves again. “Please, Buffy,” he whispers, and my arms tighten around him.

“No,” I say with resolve. “I want this, and you can do it. You need to take a lot, but not all. You’ll know when to stop, trust me. The Hellmouth will start moving. Just do it, before the world comes to an end.”

I feel his hands grasp my waist, and I’m relieved that he’s finally accepted the fact that I love him, all of him. He pushes his face in my neck and changes. I suck in a little breath at the feeling; it’s strange at best. “I love you,” a muffled declare from my neck.

It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. His incisors slip smoothly into my neck and I can vaguely feel blood trailing down my neck, and dripping down on the floor. He gulps down some of it, but lets a fair amount patter on the floor behind us. Despite some of the pain that’s throbbing where his fangs are embedded, I also feel pleasure beating with every pulse of my heart. “Ah…ah!” I pant into the empty room. The walls are blaring at me, and my heart is thundering in my ears. He sounds like he’s enjoying it; he’s pulling me tighter to his body. Finally, just as I hear the quaking he pulls away. The ground is shaking violently beneath me, and my eyes are slipping shut fast. I can still feel him strong and steady, but I’m struggling to stay lucid. Bright light is shooting out everywhere, and arms are around me suddenly. We’re moving fast, but my eyes are shut and all I can feel is Angel around me, and sticky blood trails around my body.

When I awake I’m once again in the White room, as I’ve deemed it. I’ve only seen this place a few times before, when I got nicks and scrapes. I saw it after I fought Drusilla and killed her. I can honestly say that I’m getting sick of it. There’s a bandage at my neck and I wince and touch it. Everything looks blurry.

I sit up on the table that’s set in the middle of the circular room. Angel’s shape is in the corner, large and dark. He stands out in this room like a black cat and the snow, and I can’t help but smile, despite my situation.

He sits up suddenly. “Are you okay?” He gets up faster than my fuzzy mind can comprehend and he’s at my side. His hand comes down to thread through mine and squeeze. “Yes, I’m okay. What about the Hellmouth?”

He gives me a smile, a real smile, it’s like euphoria tipping over and spilling into the light, providing purity that I haven’t seen my whole life. “It’s…better.”

“Just better?” I prod.

“A lot better. We’re still going to have to regulate it, but there’s no more Master, and no more fear.”

I want so jump up and down and scream at the same time, but my body is seriously protesting to this, so instead I urge his arms around me. He easily complies.

“Wow…that’s incredible,” I state softly.

“Yes,” he agrees, kissing my head, “it is.”

“I love you. Thank you for trusting me.”

“No,” he denies, pulling back, “thank you, Buffy. You nearly gave your life for the world. I’m so glad…so glad you didn’t die.” His voice is hoarse, and I want to hug him so badly, so I do. I pull him to me and inhale the scent of his shoulder, his shirt and skin. He smells beautiful, which he is.

“So…what’re we going to do now?” I ask, and my question is muffled against him. I feel a laugh vibrate from his body into mine.

fin

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