Finding Someday by Tango



DISCLAIMER: Never owned ‘em. Never will.

SPOILERS: After Giles' leaves in S5, Buffy goes to see Angel instead of kissing Spike. Whole fic is in Angel's POV.

PAIRING: B/A, of course!

DISTRIBUTION: My site (, Starrkitty's Adult B/A Archive - all the usual suspects. Anyone else who houses my fic is welcome to it. All others, please ask first.



AN: This is slightly angsty, but don't worry it doesn't stay that way. *G* Just working out some personal stress here, so I hope you like.


Intense regret and simultaneous joy filled me when I left Buffy that night, right after she came back from the dead. when she went back to her Hellmouth and her entourage of friends. The moment I set eyes on her in the darkness of that warehouse set far back from the road, I knew that death had kept a part of her and it ached so loudly inside her that it seeped into me. It hit me so hard, that I wanted to gasp out loud. I think I might have.

I can't explain to you how it felt to see her again after all that time of keeping myself away, what it felt like to comfort her, to feel her tears, to kiss those pink lips. It was the most excruciating experience I'd had in a long time, since the day I left her. She glows with the vitality of life that can't be hushed. Not even by death.

I was surprised when she showed up at the hotel a few months later. It was early in the morning, predawn when she entered my hotel and snuck into my bedroom. I always sleep in the nude and I was nestled beneath the covers, deep in REM when she arrived. I loved feeling of my bare skin against the sheets, which is why I rarely wear clothes when sleeping. I was always accused of vanity, or even some sort of hedonism (which at one point in my life may have been true), when I insisted on expensive sheets, intricately woven fabrics and luxurious silks. I think maybe only a vampire understands that the sensation of touch is so much more sensitive with the undead. Clothes, sheets, blankets...those were the indulgences I allowed myself. I was allowed little else anyway.

One of my most guilty soulful indulgences was slipping underneath my expensive sheets as I blinked awake. She was still fully clothed and didn't seem to notice that my bare skin was against her. I snaked my arms around her, forgetting the dream that was falling away, forgetting the thoughts that had been stuck in my mind moments later. She was in my arms with none of the hesitation or fear that had become a part of our meetings since I came back from Hell. No, she didn't want to waste any time. She held me so tightly in her arms, squeezing me with her Slayer strength and she crunched those little fingers into my bare hip as she pressed her face into my chest. Her body shook with silent sobs and she heaved breaths, she heaved breaths of me.

"Buffy," I whispered as I always had when I first saw her, "Shhh, everything is going to be okay."

I normally try not to be that trite, but I was trying to comfort her as much as I was trying to comfort myself. My hands were shaking as I held her and I hardly acknowledged the fact that I was crying along with her. I was filled with her and it flowed from me, bursting through the self control I so carefully guarded for so long.

"Angel," she whispered, finally saying my name and I took a breath. She always made me breathe, "Giles left."

"Left?" I echoed in confusion. He was her Watcher, he couldn't just leave.

"They all leave," she whimpered, rubbing her face lightly against my chest and loosening her fingers on me, "Mom, Dad, Giles, I know you can tell me, Angel. I know you know...what's wrong with me."

"No, no, no," I said. They were the beginnings of a panic and she felt it, but still tried to pull away. I wouldn't let her. I held onto her nearly as tightly as she had to me before. I wanted nothing less that her perfect understanding and I was desperate to have it. I cupped her face in my hands, gently prodding her to look at me. In the dim light of the room, I could see that her eyes were red and puffy from many tears that I hadn't witnessed and it forced even more regret to the top of my Buffy pile.

"You're so bright, it's blinding," I said, struggling to explain, already knowing I was failing, "So luminescent that it frightens all things in the night. Frightens me...because I crave it. I crave you, Buffy. That's why I left. Not because you're bad, but because you're good...too, too pure. I can't stand it without touching you, taking you."

"But-" she started, but I couldn't let her go on. I had to make her understand.

"No," I hushed, "No, you're wrong, my love."

She shivered then and I pulled her against me. She laid her head on my chest, waiting for me to finish. I cherished the feel of her breath slipping over my skin, warming me as I continued, "Giles loves you. I don't know why he's leaving but I know that whatever the reason, it's not because he doesn't love you."

"He says I need to stand on my own two feet," she whispered, "Says I depend on him too much."

"And he depends on you too much," I said and she jerked her head up.

"What?" she asked in shock.

"He needs you as much as you need him," I whispered, kissing her forehead. I felt the dawn coming on, felt it seeping through my bones, through my undead veins, as I always did. The daylight, and the fact that I felt it, was always a reminder of why we couldn't be together, "He's been hiding behind his Slayer for so long, Buffy. Maybe he needs something too."

"Can't he find it not so far away?" she asked, blinking shyly at me, like a little girl, like she used to.

"Maybe, maybe not," I answered cryptically and she almost giggled because of it, but she understood. I knew she did. Snuggling in, she laid against me again, waiting or just feeling. I'd like to think the latter, because I was overwhelmed with feeling and unattainable emotions.

"I wish I could explain it all, that I knew it all," I said, "I don't, but you do."

"I don't," she rebuffed, keeping her soft cheek against my skin, gliding back and forth.

"You do," I whispered and I wanted so much for her to believe it, "You know why your mother, why Giles and Riley left. You know...and your father is a fool."

"He doesn't love me," she whispered, almost afraid to admit it.

"No," I said, "He's selfish. He thinks he has plenty of time. Only we know that he doesn't."

Finally, she looked up at me and I clenched my jaw because I saw it coming. I held her gaze and wished I could disappear. I didn't want to face it and I didn't think I was strong enough to refuse her again, not in my bed, in my arms.

"I don't want to be without you anymore," she said pointedly, almost roaring it out even though her voice was soft. It struck me and I felt true fear that only Buffy has ever brought out in me. I looked into her eyes as the dawn started to slip through the blinds on my windows. She pouted as she waited for my rejection.

"You already know-" I started but she pressed her lips against mine, breathing heavily, panting almost as she plunged her tongue into my mouth. I excepted her and kissed her back. How could I not? Crushing her against me, we mauled each other. I was already thinking about how to get her clothes off, about making love to her when I pulled away. We stared at each other and I felt like screaming out in frustration. I told myself after the Powers had turned back time, that I wouldn't forget again how much it hurt.

But I had forgotten. There's no way to accurately remember that kind of horrible pain. It made me want to kill, to maim, to release the demon. It made me want to seek the solace that only she could provide and beg her to kill me before I lost my soul. At least then I would be free. But it wasn't fair to ask that of her and I couldn't always take the easy way out - I had spent more than my fair share of life and unlife doing that.

"I can't," I blurted finally, shifting against the arousal rising in me. I wanted to stop it, but I couldn't, "I wish I could, but I can't, Buffy. I love you so much that it eats me up inside."

"Me too," she whispered. "Please, Angel," she whispered again, begging, "There has to be a way. There has to. It's not fair."

"Nothing is," I replied bitterly, because we both knew too well that it was true. Nothing was fair and nothing was free. Buffy was the price I had to pay, I knew that now. I used to think that she was a gift. I thought if I could have her love that I was somehow forgiven. The fact that I dared to think that she was my gift or that I could begin to think I deserved her even for a moment made me want to laugh out loud in a maniacal, crazed release, because she was the intended punishment all along. Buffy Summers was the key to my redemption and my downfall. She was the most intense torture they could have ever given me. What wasn't fair was that she had too feel it too.

"You can fix it," she accused, "You know how, but you won't."

"I don't," I said, shaking my head wildly and scooting away.

"You know where to look, Angel. Don't you?" she said, raising her voice and then narrowed her eyes, burning me with her indignation, "Don't you?"

"I don't know if it's possible," I said, finally, taking several deep breaths, "I know where to look, yes."

"Then look," she said. It was a command - of a lover, of the Slayer. It was all the power she held in her tiny body and she was flinging it at me. I felt the bed shift as she crawled over to me, and I realized that I had pushed the covers away in my need to escape, that I was bared to her gaze and that I was painfully aroused. She saw me cowering from her, knowing she could kill me I would welcome it. She pressed me back against the bed, flinging one leg over my hips. Leaning down, she pressed against me. I moaned out loud as she held me there, unable to move away from her. My whole body was warming as she pressed the rest of her tiny form against mine and kissed me, slipping her tongue into my mouth. She pulled away suddenly, sat back on my thighs and stared at me for a moment as we both breathed erratically.

"Make love to me, Angel," she whispered after a long moment. I felt like I could see the words hanging in the air, they were that strong.

"You k-know I can't," I stuttered. I was ashamed and I couldn't hide it.

"Then find out how," she said, hopping up from the bed. She seemed to be keeping her eyes on my face, purposely, keeping away from my arousal.


"Promise me, Angel!" she demanded, forceful and threatening, "Promise me you'll come back, that you'll find a way to bind your soul. Promise me that when I die the next time I won't be alone."

"Buffy, you're not going to d-"

"Promise," she repeated, her voice lower. It was a demand and at the same time it was pleading. I couldn't resist. Not that I could ever resist her anyway, that was the whole problem.

"I promise," I whispered. I almost thought if I said it low enough that it didn't count, but we both knew it did.

"And you'll come to me when you do?" she asked.

"I will," I said. It was the only possible answer. I watched her nod and then leave, closing the door quietly behind her. I fell back on the bed and gasped as I encircled my cock with my hand. Stroking evenly, almost guiltily, I listened as she moved through the hotel. As the double doors swung behind her and the sunlight captured the sky, I felt her retreat inside me.


I don't think I spoke much that day. I went directly to the shelves of books in the office - some mine, some Wesley's. Every once in awhile, I stare at those volumes and wonder how many of them came from the Watcher's Council itself. It's amusing to think that they would end up in my possession. The irony in my life is sometimes enough to make me think that I'm a joke in the book of life.

I didn't feel an ounce of guilt for not mentioning my Shanshu to Buffy. There's no reason to get her hopes up for an event that may not happen in her lifetime. I remember thinking when she died that it didn't really matter anymore. Why would I want to be human if I couldn't have her anyway? I knew the answer to that. I didn't want it. When - what a horrible thought - when she died, if she stayed dead next time, if I hadn't already achieved Shanshu, I'm not sure I would be as consumed by it as I am now. In fact, I'm positive I wouldn't.

Anyway, I had it, didn't I? I had that one glorious day with my heart beating and my lover in my bed. I had her for a frozen moment in time that no longer officially exists. Some days, I think that might have been enough. Others, I'm angry because it wasn't even close.

I buried myself in the books, consumed by my promise. I wanted to believe that was the reason, but it was really by my own selfishness that consumed. I wanted it just as badly as she did. Maybe more. I had spent the morning brooding and wondering if I could dare to even hope that it was possible. And if it was, how much time had I wasted without her? Of course, I needed that time away. We both did. I had to know the price of our love and what it was to be in the dark again, this time with a clear memory of warmth and light. That's what Buffy always was. She was the only cool sip of water in the center of the raging fires of Hell.

I was trying to research thoroughly, scraping over each part of each text that I had neglected before. Many of them, I knew well from hours without her, pretending that I was studying up on possibly enemies when really I was only killing time.

Time is an enemy when you're a vampire. More of a threat even than the sun because there's so damn much of it. It sinks into every pore of you until finally you're nothing but this thing suspended by endless nights. The scenery changes around you but you barely notice, unless there's something there to hold your eyes. Buffy was that for me. She held my eyes and made me realize that time does actually move. I watched her grow and mature, basking in sunlight that I was not allowed. It filled me with regret that she spent so many nights with me, that she wished away the sunlight and wanted the darkness because I was in it.

I wanted her to have more of it, to have a lover that could enjoy it with her and when I met Riley Finn, I knew she had found it. As much as I abhorred his very existence and was jealous of all the things he had that I could not have, I was happy that she found him. He loved her, that was certain. As glad as I was about that, the primal creature inside me wanted to kill him for daring to touch what belonged to me.

I knew it was an ancient belief - that of a mate and thinking of her as my possession but I couldn't help it. As much as a person can own another, I thought of her as mine and I clung to that fact when there was nothing left of her in my life but memories. I was her first love and she, undoubtably, was mine.

Mine. Golden, beautiful, filled with more life than any other human, any other Slayer, any other creature. Mine. Greedily, I drank her in during the time she was my girl and more ravenously, I took her in my dreams and memories when we were separated. She was a mindless screech in my brain, forcing itself to the front, making itself known - my mate, my lover, MINE. It was something I couldn't feel sorry for, never could. I regretted almost everything I had ever done, each person who had the poor fortunate to come into my life, but I didn't regret loving her. Hurting her? Yes. Drinking from her? Most definitely. Making love to her? No way. I lost my soul and rained torment on the most wonderful thing in my life and I didn't even have the decency to regret that one perfect night. I knew it was a tremendous affront to all of my sadness. If I could turn back time, the only change I would make would be to hand her a stake just before she fell asleep in my arms.

How's that for selfish?


When I found it, it was weeks later and I was a man possessed. I must have shouted aloud - or, more aptly, roared - because Cordelia and Wesley skittered in the room.

"What?" Cordelia demanded, her hands on her hips. I looked up and smiled at them. I'm sure it was dazed and nearly happy enough to take the soul I was trying to save. I stood and thrust the book into Wesley's hands, tapping the area on the page I wanted him to read. His eyes scanned quickly and he looked up at me in disbelief.

"You meant to bind your soul?" he asked, eyes wide behind his glasses, "That's what you've been looking for?"

"I promised her," I answered. Cordy snatched the book from Wesley's hands and read it a bit more slowly than he had. I waited, searching my mind for what to do next as, but I was already out of the room as Cordelia screamed behind me, dropping the book with a loud, dusty thud to the floor.

"You mean this whole time you couldn't have lost your soul?" she asked. I almost laughed or cried. It was so utterly amusing that the infusion of Buffy's blood in my body had bound my soul before I even left her. I wanted to cried out in hysteria because I couldn't believe that it was true, that she had been in my bed weeks before and I could have made love to her then. I could have comforted her when her mother died, I could have held her for as long as she needed me. I never had to leave her at all.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" I asked, taking the steps two a time to get to my room. They followed me closely as I went inside, grabbed a bag and began packing.

"So you're just leaving?" Cordelia asked, following me around the room, "You're just giving up on us?"

"No," I said, zipping up the zipper of my overnight bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I met her eyes, "I'll be back. I have to see her. Call me if you get a vision."

"So, you're just going to get laid?" she demanded, accusing me as if making love to my soul mate was in some way dirty and horrible, "You have your soul and now it's time to bump pelvises?"

I couldn't stop the growl from coming out and I stared at her, my friend, jealous of Buffy as she had always been.

"No," I said, "You'll never understand, Cordelia. I can't breathe air, but when I'm with her, I almost can. I go through my life in darkness and cold. You have no idea how cold it gets, how cracked, but she's warmth to me. I'm not going to her to ‘get laid,'" I said bitterly, eyeing her like a father at a misbehaved child, "I'm going to her so that I know what living is again, what it is to love. I may not deserve it, but she does."

"Right," Cordelia said, nodding, "She always deserves everything, doesn't she? We're all supposed to feel like we owe her cause she's the Slayer. Just because she's saved my life a few times, I'm supposed to worship her."

"Have you ever noticed that she never asked you for anything?" I demanded, a bit too loudly, "She never asked for your support, your thanks or even your respect and it's a good thing because you could never find it in yourself to give it her."

"I helped her so many times!" Cordelia announced, offended, "I risked my life-"

"No, you worked to save your own," I shouted, "*She* risked *her* life!"

I was angry and they both knew it. I headed for the door, taking long strides, but when I reached it, I stopped and turned around slowly to face them. Keeping my voice calm and low, I looked back and forth from my friends - and they truly were the first friends I had since I left Buffy. Along with Doyle, they had accepted me as a person...almost.

"I think that you'll be seeing Buffy around here a lot more," I said, keeping my point clear, "And I will expect both of you to show her the kindness and respect that you give freely to anyone else who walks through our doors."

"Of course, Angel," Wesley said succinctly, although I'm sure he knew that I really wasn't talking to him as much as his counterpart.

"She's the most important person in my life," I said gently, "She always has been. I care for both of you and I appreciate your friendship. I won't abandon you to fight this fight alone. I'll never do that to you again...and I'll never do it to her again."


"You've got a lot of nerve to come back here, mate," Spike said as I headed to Buffy's front door. It was a strange feeling to even think about entering her house through a traditional entrance, as if I were someone who could be accepted freely. The whole event was being ruined by my neutered childe.

"I don't have time for you, Spike," I growled, "You're ruining this for me."

"I don't care about your bloody feelings," he growled back, "I care about *hers.* I won't let you hurt her again."

"Ah yes," I said, almost smiling at him. I'm sure it was more of a smirk, actually, "Willow told me about what's been going on with you. I'm sure you don't *really* think you're worthy of her, do you? I mean, you realize she could never love you, right?"

"Dunno," he said, shifting on his boots for a moment before puffing up his chest proudly, "I'd have a chance if you'd sod off."

"No can do, Spikey," I said, finally giving over to my true smile. I was coming home to my mate and he couldn't destroy this moment for me. I knocked on the door proudly and didn't have to wait long until it opened. If I had any breath, it would left my body.

Spike couldn't ruin this moment for me, but Riley Finn certainly could. I stared at him blankly. Talk about timing, I couldn't believe he was back and I wasn't sure what it meant. I resisted the urge to backpedal and managed to grumble out, "Is Buffy here?"

"Yeah," he said and stepped back to let me in, which was, needless to say, a bit surprising. I couldn't believe he wasn't demanding that I leave. He stared at me angrily, though and it seemed like he was waiting to see if I needed an invitation and looked disappointed when I strolled in with no invisible barrier to keep me out. What did he think, that my mate would bar me from her home? No, she wouldn't.

Not again anyway.

I stepped inside and saw that everyone was in the living room - all of Buffy's friends and another woman who was dressed in the same uniform as Finn. My eyes finally settled on Buffy and I was surprised to see her in the same black militant garb. I was almost afraid of her reaction, until she rushed in my arms. I held her tightly and she looked into my eyes. I knew what she wanted to know and I smiled down at her as I nodded my head yes.

The happiness that covered her face was more than I could have hoped for and I felt like I was swelling inside as I soaked it up. I actually forgot that we weren't alone in the room and I leaned down to kiss her. She must have forgotten too because she pressed her little body against me, nipping at my mouth in that sweet way she used to, with no reservations, no fear, no halting. For so long we had been reigned in and afraid of going too far. Now we didn't have to stop and I didn't plan to as I threaded my fingers through her hair.

"Hello?" Xander shouted finally, breaking into our reunion, "Black market demon eggs to find here!"

She stopped kissing me but she still had her lips pressed to mine, so I felt her smile when it came. I wasn't at all disappointed that there was something to fight because there always was, there always would be. I didn't care right then if we had to take on the entire Hellmouth that night. Even if I died in the battle, I finally knew that perfect happiness again. That little moment was proof of my bound soul.

"I'm so glad you finally decided to come," she whispered and her eyes glistened with tears of happiness.

"Sorry I'm late," I whispered back.

"Way, way late," she agreed.


It turned out that my timing had been perfect. Riley Finn and his wife had managed to make Buffy feel horribly lonely and undesirable. If I hadn't been so happy, it might have pissed me off. By the end of the night, we had found out that Spike - big surprise - had been hoarding the demon eggs all the time. I would deal with my errant childe later, but in the meantime, I made peace with Riley and his surprisingly delightful wife, Sam, as did Buffy. Dawn found it in her heart to forgive both Riley and myself for our abandonment of her sister. It amazed me that she took our leaving so personally, as if we had left her too. In a way, I guess we had.

I carried Buffy upstairs and for the first time, since I fed her the heart of a demon, I walked through her bedroom door. It was a thrilling feeling. I kicked the door shut behind me and carried her to the bed. I took my time, kissing her slowly, eating at her sweet mouth. Rolling over, I pulled her on top of me and held her tightly.

"You just get sweeter," I murmured against her lips. The happiness was almost unbearable, nearly more than I could take.

"Hmmm?" she asked, pulling away and looking at me. I could tell she was a little apprehensive, just a little afraid that if we made love, I would leave her again.

"You get sweeter," I said, "every time I taste you."

"Oh," she said shyly. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. I waited for her to speak. I could feel it hanging there. In the meantime, she touched my face and I closed my eyes as her fingertips fluttered across my cheeks and jawline. Soft, little butterfly caresses. Sweet. No other word comes to mind.

"So, it's okay?" she asked finally. I nodded.

"Promise?" she asked and I nodded again, then said the words, "I promise, love."

"I don't think..." she whispered, tears filling her eyes, "I don't think I could take it if you left again. I wouldn't survive it again."

"You won't have to," I whispered. It was reverent and true. "I couldn't leave again," I swore, "It took everything to leave last time. There's no strength left to walk away again."

She crumbled against my chest and I held her, rocking her as the months, days, minutes of our time apart flooded from both of us. I moved my hands over her narrow back and realized just how much weight she had lost during our time apart. Her spine was more prominent than before, her body smaller, more tightly bound. She still radiated the same amount of unbelievable heat. I shuddered beneath her, it was so delicious, seeping into me. The idea of having this again and again was astounding, like I was in a surreal suspended animation.

"Make love to me?" she asked, still sniffling from her tears. I was overcome with how beautiful she was. Sometimes, I when I was away, I sketched her or tried to drum up her image in my mind and it was never as lovely as she really was.

I nodded and I might have said something, but I can't remember because she pulled off her shirt, baring herself to my gaze. Once again, she made me breathe and I sucked in a deep lung full of air at the sight of her perfect, rounded breasts. I always thought them perfect, the curve of them, the weight of them in my hands, the way her nipples stood erect under my fingertips. I reached out to touch them, caressing them gently and was struck with how small she really was - another detail I always thought I imagined. I could span her entire waist with both hands.

I caressed her breasts slowly, brushing my thumbs over her straining nipples. I wanted to cherish this moment, drink in every detail of her this time, just as I had the last. Her breathing was increasing and she began grinding against me, pressing against my arousal while pressing her breasts more firmly against my hands. Every part of her body seemed to scream for my touch. It was exhilarating and it was just the sort of thing that had scared me to death for a long time. I think a part of that same fear trembled underneath my skin.

I rolled us back over and laid her gently against her pillows. I kissed her lips, loving her rush of breath inside my mouth, filling me with her life. Even borrowed, it's fantastic. I kissed down her neck, licking her, tasting her skin and then taking in mouthfuls of flesh. The feeling was devouring me and I wanted her so badly, I was shaking. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to wait, so I slowed us down even more.

She let me have control, which surprised me. I knew she had taken on other lovers after I left and I was certain the Slayer inside her demanded that she have more control, but she didn't act on it. She just whimpered and moaned as I worshiped her golden flesh, moving back to her breasts again. What a wonderful taste she had, like lush fruit and flowers, all traced with that lingering vanilla that made me dizzy with lust.

I pressed my face between her breasts and breathed her in, the smell of her life, lust and need before moving further down her body. Her tiny hands moved over me, pulling up my shirt so she could touch my skin, threading through my hair. Fingernails, probably perfectly manicured tickled me lightly and I moaned against her stomach as I licked and tasted her.

I slipped off her jeans and panties and steeled my resolve to move slowly as the wonderful ambrosia of her arousal hit me more strongly. It was so vibrant and perfect, the smell of her. I growled as I pressed my face into her slick folds, unable to keep my greedy demon from wanting her as much as the man in me did. She opened wider for me, touching me where she could reach as I kissed and licked every part of her, memorizing her again.

"So beautiful," I said, almost surprised at the huskiness in my voice before I took her swollen clit in my mouth, between my lips and lashed at it with my tongue. I slipped a finger inside her, then another and another, lost in the feel and taste of her. Mesmerized by her beauty, I was almost surprised when she bucked against me, screaming in her orgasm. She grabbed handfuls of my hair and pressed me against her, keeping me there to pleasure her as she thrashed.

I sometimes wish I could bottle up that feeling, the rush of her release, the knowledge of knowing that I'm responsible for it, knowing that the fluttering of her delicate inner muscles is for me and me alone...forever this time. I quickly shed my clothes like a high school boy who can't wait to lose his virginity with the prettiest girl in school. I was fairly certain at the time that I ripped my shirt and later I confirmed the fact. Nude and painfully aroused, I looked down at my tiny lover and was dumbfounded. I had to stop and admire her as she reached out her arms to accept me. She was flushed with her recent release, her full lips parted as she still breathed heavily, a fine sheen of sweat covered her and her hair was rumpled against the pillow beneath her. Her legs were parted, waiting for me to join her.

"I love you," I whispered as I lowered myself to the bed and slowly entered her. I hoped that she heard the worship in voice because very fiber of my being was for her. I remember it being the same the last time I made love to her. I hissed loudly in pleasure as I moved inside her, enveloped in her tight, slick warmth, in her overpowering emotion and love.

"I love you too, Angel," she whispered as she started moving beneath me, "I've always loved you."

"Forever," I said. She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me harder against her. The idea that I will be able to do this again and again is clouding my reasoning as I move harder inside her, pounding harder against my little Slayer. As her screams of pleasure intermingle with my own amorous moans, I know that I was right the first time: She is my gift.


The End.


"I want it to be hot, disturbing. Yet gorgeous always." -Anne Rice

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