Lost 7

                 Thump. I land hard on the bed, unsure whether I collapsed there, jumped or was thrown. But the inclination to debate this soon flies from my head as Angel lands next to me. He rolls on top of me, his familiar weight pressed up against my body. His lips find my lips, his hands snake up inside my shirt, cupping my breasts. I wrap my legs around his hips, arching my body into him, struggling to pull him ever closer, binding our writhing forms together.

                 We flip over so that I am now above him, kissing him ferociously, nipping at his lips with my teeth, plunging my tongue in and out of his mouth and feeling him respond in kind. I squeeze his lower body tightly with my thighs, feeling his hardness begin to press against the heat building in between my legs. His fingers travel up my spine, nimbly releasing my bra clasp and he sweeps his hands round to my breasts again, delicately playing with the nipples.

                 Reluctantly, I break away from his mouth, pushing myself up into a sitting position, straddling him. Once here, I quickly pull off my shirt and already unfastened bra, exposing my bare torso to Angel. His eyes drop hungrily from mine, roaming down my body – the intensity of his gaze like fingers trailing down my skin – to settle firmly on the large purple bruise forming on my side. His expression turns rapidly from pure lust to one of concern and he tentatively reaches out gentle fingers to caress me there.

                 “You’re injured,” he says in a soft voice.

                 “It’s nothing.” I shake my head dismissively then continue to move my questing hands up his muscular chest, ripping away his t-shirt in one swift movement then bobbing back down to plant a row of kisses and nips along his clavicle, eventually moving up his throat and neck to continue my assault on his lips. But this time the kisses he returns are tender, slow and feathery, his touch smooth and soft on my skin. The sudden change of mood phases me a little.

                 “What’s the matter?” I cease my ministrations to murmur in his ear.

                 “We should take it easy,” he replies, grazing my back lightly with his blunt fingernails. “I don’t…. I don’t want to hurt you…”

                 I smile lovingly at his consideration and lift myself back up again, grasping his hand in mine. I press his palm – hard – to the wound on my side, trying not to wince at the pain it causes.

                 “Don’t worry,” I whisper, my voice heavy with desire. “I want to feel it – you. I want to feel everything.”

                 “Are you sure?” He asks, pulling himself up too, so that our upper bodies are in alignment with one another and I am left sitting in his lap. He wraps his arms around my waist and presses our foreheads tightly together.

                 “Yes,” I breathe in reply, sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him ravenously. “I need this, to feel awake, alive.”

                 We kiss again, deeply, our tongues moving together in some primal dance. His fingers move up to tangle in my hair and I dig my nails into his back.

                 “Pleasure…pain…” I gasp out between frantic kisses. “With you it’s all the same…it’s all…oh God…ecstasy…”

                 We tumble together back on to the bed and suddenly my world is transformed into one mass of feeling. All I am aware of is my heart pounding in my chest, the sound of my own shallow, rapid breathing and the taste of Angel’s skin underneath my tongue. His touch is as silky as the velvet bedcovers I lie upon as he smoothly removes my pants and underwear. I set my own fingers to work on the rest of his clothing, longing for the feel of his naked flesh against mine. My hands sweep over his strong thighs and his muscular buttocks, coming to rest upon his length and then squeezing hard enough to make him gasp.

                 He emits a playful growl and pins me roughly to the bed, holding my arms above my head and forcing my legs down and apart with his knees. I go limp underneath him, licking my lips in nervous anticipation. I need this, him, more than anything. I need to show him that I trust him, that I am his and he is mine and our bodies are each other’s. Sometimes we will doubt our relationship, fear that we don’t belong together or that we could never possibly make it work between us. Today was such a day. Today we worried we would lose one another and now we need this lovemaking to reassure ourselves of our love, our future, our bond.

                 Angel kisses me gently on the lips, dragging his free hand down my body as he does so, teasing my breasts briefly, then plunging two fingers into my sopping core. He works them in and out slowly, flicking my clitoris with his thumb in the process, and stars begin to form before my eyes, pushing away any possible thoughts of the tumultuous past twenty-four hours, which started so innocuously… 

* * * * * 

                I wake up to the fresh, airy scent of cotton sheets. Feeling only the bed covers against my body, I automatically reach out for Angel, but my hand touches empty air. Sleepily I crack open my eyes, to be greeted with the sight of my new room, it’s walls painted a plain white, sunlight streaming in through uncurtained windows. My heart sinks slightly at the prospect – I am at home, rather than at the mansion. And I will not see Angel again until patrol tonight.

                 Sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes against the bright sunlight, I catch the glimpse of something red in the corner of my vision. Turning to see what it is I find a single, long-stemmed rose lying on my pillow, accompanied by a note in Angel’s beautifully scripted handwriting. Missing you already. A broad smile breaks across my face and I drag myself out of bed with something a little less than my usual reluctance.

                 One long, hot shower later I am sat at the breakfast table, suddenly realising that there are benefits of living with my Mom, after all. One of them being the fantastic breakfasts she makes. Waking up with Angel is great, but his idea of breakfast in bed is a bag of ‘O-negative’, and quite frankly I’d rather have pancakes and maple syrup. 

                 Cordelia even joins us this morning – usually she insists upon eating in her room, mornings being her worst time of day. I guess I’d feel like that too if I’d spent all night lying awake, going over and over all my problems in my head. It can be pretty draining sometimes being around her when she’s depressed like that. Excuse the bizarre analogy, but her bad mood is sort of like a whirlpool, or quicksand, it pulls you in and then doesn’t let you go. But every time I find myself being annoyed with her misery or wishing she would just cheer up and let everyone get along with their lives without the constant worry over her situation hanging over their heads, I just remember what I was like over the past year. I thought my life was over. I was a hollow shell of the person I was. And I recognise the haunted look in Cordelia’s eyes from the one I used to see in the mirror every morning.

                 Then I’d given up hope of anything ever getting better. I ran away from my life and my friends because the situation I was in was just too much for me to cope with – Cordelia doesn’t even have that luxury. So, I make sure I have eternal patience with her. I always smile through her bad moods, however difficult it becomes and I always try to help her in any way I can. I wish I’d accepted people’s help a year ago – the past 12 months of my life would have been so much better then. They would have been how they are now – tough but rewarding, the happy moments just about equalling the sad ones, basically how things should be.

                 This morning Cordelia seems a little brighter than normal. She has pulled her hair back into a high ponytail and her face is carefully made up. She almost appears like the Cordelia I used to know. Almost but not quite, because this Cordelia is quiet and polite and doesn’t make a single blunt or insulting remark throughout the whole of breakfast. I put her improved mood down to the shopping trip to LA we are taking today. At least Cordelia’s personality hasn’t changed so much that she doesn’t love shopping anymore.

                 After breakfast I blow-dry my hair, eventually twisting it up into a messy chignon.  I touch up my make-up then add jewellery, fasting Angel’s cross around my neck and then wasting ten minutes gazing into the mirror, indulging in fantasies of what tonight will be like when I see him. Mom’s voice jolts me out of my reverie and I dash back downstairs, ready to leave for LA.

                 “Buffy, can you come and help lift Cordelia into the car?” Mom asks.

                 I am just about to comply with her request when Cordelia glares at me with fiery, tear-filled eyes. “No! Please. I-I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to go anymore.”

                 “Come on, honey, it’ll be fun.” Mom talks to her in the same patronising voice parents use when trying to persuade their four year old to go to the dentist.

                 “Let me speak to her,” I usher my Mom out of the room, painfully aware she is only making things worse with Cordy.

                 “Just go on your own,” Cordelia interrupts before I even have a chance to speak. “I’d much rather stay at home, okay?”

                 I stare at her incredulously. “Since when would you ever give up the opportunity of a good shopping spree just to stay at home?”

                 “Yeah, well, I’ve changed.” She replies acerbically and I wince at her tone.

                 “What are you afraid of?” I ask in a quiet voice.

                 “Excuse me?”

                 “Well, you seemed pretty enthused over this trip yesterday. What changed your mind?”

                 “Nothing, alright?” She spins her wheel chair around and starts to head away from me, indicating the end of the conversation. I haven’t finished with her, however, so I grab on to the back of her chair and hold her still.

                 “Hey! That’s not fair! Let me go!”

                 “Not until you tell me the real reason why you don’t want to come shopping with us. Because if you keep blowing me off like this, then I’m going to think you don’t like me.”

                 Cordelia snorts. “I don’t, remember?”

                 I smile broadly. “Now there’s the Cordelia Chase we all know and despise.”

                 She can’t help smiling back at me briefly before her expression turns to one of pain and embarrassment. “I don’t…I don’t want people to see me like this,” she admits quietly.

                 I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out because I don’t really know what to say to that. “Why not?” I eventually manage.

                 “Because I’m a freak, duh!” She snaps back at me. “What are you, mentally retarded or something?”

                 “Uh, Cordelia, we’re all kind of freaks around here, in case you hadn’t noticed.” I smile slightly. “Look at me – my boyfriend’s a vampire. And Willow, she’s dating a werewolf. Then Xander’s just, well…Xander. And I have no idea what’s up with Faith, but she’s pretty out there, don’t you think?”

                 Cordy looks absolutely horrified. “This really means I’m one of you now, doesn’t it?”

                 I grin broadly. “Yup, welcome to the world of weird. Now are you coming shopping or not?”

                 She waves her hand in dismissive agreement. “Whatever.”

                 Victoriously I wheel her out to the car, deliberately trying to forget the fact that I have just purposefully condemned myself to a whole day spent in the company of Cordelia Chase. There would be plenty of time to regret this after the two-hour journey to LA, the resulting afternoon spent trekking from mall to mall, and the trip back through rush hour traffic… Oh my God, what have I let myself in for?

* * * * *

                 I pick out a short summer dress from the racks of clothing and hold it up against myself, admiring my reflection in one of the store’s mirrors as I do so.

                 “Do you think Angel will like me in this?” I ask, turning to Willow who is browsing beside me.

                 She screws up her face in thought. “Buffy, that’s a sun dress. When is Angel ever going to see you in the sun?”

                 “Oh, yeah,” I reply, my good mood waning slightly. Putting back the dress – I couldn’t have afforded its $150 price tag, anyway – I move along to the adjacent rack, rifling through t-shirts until I find a sage green vest-top embroidered with little pink rose buds. “Hey, you should get this,” I tell Will. “I’m sure Oz would love it.”

                 She glances cursorily over at the item I am holding up. “Nah, I don’t like it.”

                 Shrugging, I abandon the t-shirt and sneak a glimpse of Willow’s expression. She looks deep in concentration, sorting through a whole selection of long, floaty skirts. I had envisaged this shopping trip as a fun bonding experience for us, a return to some of the best friend, girlie activities we used to participate in before. Before the whole Angelus incident and my year’s disappearance, that is. And when Cordelia went off with Mom to the household section of the department store, to pick out soft furnishings for our new house, my hopes were raised even further. Just me and Will and a shop filled with clothes to try on. How much more fun can you get?

                 But strangely enough we don’t seem to be having fun. Willow is distracted and monosyllabic and the atmosphere between us is tense. Suddenly I realise how much I miss her, how much I miss the easygoing way we had with one another, the pigouts on ice cream and the sleepovers spent watching ‘chick flicks’ and painting each others nails. It was just such simple escapism from the pressure of being the Slayer and all the other stresses that fill my daily (or rather, nightly) life. It was part of my world that was completely normal and untouched by the supernatural. And I guess I want some of that back again. I want my best friend back again.

                 “Are you okay?” I turn to Willow abruptly.

                 She throws me a puzzled look. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

                 “It’s just,” I sigh. “It’s just, you don’t really seem like you want to be here.”

                 Her eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Oh.”

                 “So, you really don’t want to be here,” I reply, hurt that isn’t even bothering to deny it.

                 “No, no, it’s not that,” she replies quickly. “It’s just that I thought that it was you who wasn’t happy being here.”

                 I raise my eyebrows. “Me? Whatever gave you that idea?”

                 “Well, ever since you came back, you haven’t really wanted to spend much time with me,” she says in a rush. “I mean you’ve been through so much, you’ve grown up and you’ve been independent for a year and I’ve just been stuck in Sunnydale. I thought that maybe you thought I was too immature for you or something. That you didn’t want to be my best friend anymore.”

                 I just stare at her for a long moment, amazed by her speech. “Willow!” I eventually manage to exclaim incredulously. “How could you possibly believe any of that? Of course I want you to be my best friend. I’ve missed you so much!”

                 “Really?”

                 “Really. God, why do you think I agreed to come shopping with my Mom and Cordelia, of all people, in the first place?”

                 She grins at this. “I guess I just thought you just agreed to tag along to keep the rest of us happy, I suppose. Isn’t shopping, sort of like, beneath you now, or something?”

                 “How can you even suggest such a thing?” I joke. “I spent twelve months totally unable to afford any new clothes and now I’m back to living off Mom’s credit card. I mean it’s like…” I trail off, unable to think of a suitable analogy to describe the wonderful feeling of being able to actually afford decent clothes again. As much as fashion magazines try to promote thrift shop chic, I’m afraid I will still never be able to get past the fact that other people (usually with questionable bathing habits) have worn the items before me. Urgh.

                 “Like nearly starving to death and being presented with a pint of rocky road ice cream and container of chocolate sauce?” Willow supplies.

                 “Yes!” I grin broadly. “See, what would I do without you to solve all my linguistic inadequacies?” My expression turning serious, I gaze over at her, affection flooding my heart. “Honestly Will, I really missed you. I was afraid you were never going to forgive me.”

                 “Forgive you for what?”

                 “For bailing like that and not calling for an entire year. I’m so sorry.”

                 “Oh Buffy,” she reached out and touched my arm gently. “The only person I ever blamed was myself for not being there for you. What happened…what you did – it must have been so hard for you. And you coped in the only way you could. Of course I forgive you.”

                 “So, we’re best friends again?”

                 “Definitely.” We hug each other tightly and I pull away smiling.

                 “Now let’s go burn some serious cash!”

* * * * *

                 I sigh in pleasure as Angel’s kisses dance up and down my throat. His lips softly brush my skin, his fingers gently kneading the muscles of my back. This is what I live for. These stolen moments that I never want to end. Cool breath tickles my neck and I feel rather than hear the reverberation of his speech.

                 “Sorry,” I murmur through a smile. “Did you say something – I was kind of distracted.”

                 He pulls away from my neck, leaving me to bemoan the loss. “I was asking how your day went. Did you have a fun time shopping?”

                 I think about this for a moment before answering. “Yeah, I did. Cordelia was actually bearable for a change – it’s strange, but I think I may be starting to almost like her. Then Will and I had a talk, sorted out a few things. And I bought some gorgeous new lingerie – I’ll show you later.” I lean forward to catch his lips in a suggestive kiss, which he breaks off first.

                 “We’re going out on patrol later – remember?”

                 I groan loudly. “Do we really have to?” I snuggle up closer to him on the sofa sliding my hand inside his shirt. “There are so many more things I would rather be doing…”

                 He catches my hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the fingertips, his expression one of amusement. “Work first then kissage.”

                 I turn my body away from him, sitting with my arms folded in a mock sulk. “Yes, Giles.”

                 He laughs at this, pouncing on me in a flash, his large body pinning mine to the sofa cushions, his mouth sealing over my lips in a searing kiss. “Now would you really want Giles to do that to you?” He asks with a smile.

                 “I thought we had patrol to go to?”

                 “It can wait.”

* * * * *

                 I smooth my rumpled shirt down, wishing I’d had time to go home and change before heading out to meet the others. We’d had our usual nightly rendezvous in the library and my dishevelled appearance had earned me several knowing looks from the others and one ‘Way to go, B!’ from Faith. It didn’t help that Angel just managed to sit there looking smug the whole time. I think the only person more embarrassed than me was Giles, who managed to spend the entire meeting alternately clearing his throat and polishing his glasses. I’ve never seen him more grateful to report little or no demon activity then send me off on my way.

                 So, here I am, currently briskly walking through the first of Sunnydale’s cemetery, too tired after my long day out in LA and too keen to get back to finishing my make-out session with Angel to be bothered with slaying tonight. But Sacred Duty blah, blah, blah. So, I don’t really have much choice in the matter. I hear a rustle of leaves behind me and I whirl around, switching straight into fighting pose to be faced not with a vampire or a demon but with a very sheepish looking Riley Finn.

                 Exasperated, I lower my stake. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

                 “I thought I might find you here,” he answers.

                 “So, what, you decided to hide in the bushes and follow me around?”

                 “No,” he shifts uncomfortably. “I wanted to apologise.”

                 “For what? Attacking, drugging and trying to kidnap me?” He nods. “Well excuse me if I don’t forgive you straight away.” I turn to walk away but he calls after me.

                 “Wait, it wasn’t my choice to do any of that. I was just following orders.”

                 “So, if they told you to jump off a cliff then you’d do it, right?”

                 He says nothing in response to this, just stands there looking faintly embarrassed. I glare at him for a few seconds before deciding there is something I want to know from him. “Why were your orders to drug and kidnap me, anyway?”

                 “We-we thought that you were a hostile,” he replies. “I mean you obviously aren’t human.”

                 “Excuse me!!”

                 “Well, you’re much stronger and faster than a human could possibly be,” he tries to explain himself. “And you associate with vampires.”

                 “Vampire – singular. Angel’s a special case.” I specify. “And I most certainly am human, thank you very much. Hello – look at me!”

                 He stares a long time at my body and I end up wishing I never offered the invitation. Eventually he tears his eyes away and speaks. “We thought you were a mutation or something. The professor wanted to study you.”

                 “Study me? Ick, what do you think I am, some kind of lab rat?” I grimace angrily. “I’m a person – just like you. I have a family and a love life and friends. I just happen to be the Slayer, too.”

                 “The Slayer?”

                 “You know, the one girl in all the world with the strength and skill to kill vampires, yadda, yadda… The Chosen One?”

                 He just looks at me blankly.

                 “How can you have heard of vampires but not of the Slayer?”

                 “The Initiative’s brief is to take a scientific approach to the study of Hostile Sub-terrestrials,” he recites, parrot-fashion. “We don’t really pay much attention to the old myths and legends.”

                 I raise my eyebrows. “Well, this myth is living and breathing and perfectly willing to kick your ‘Initiative’s’ collective ass if you don’t leave me and my boyfriend alone.”

                 “Your boyfriend?” He flashes me another puzzled expression.

                 “Yeah, you know, Angel.”

                 “You mean the vampire?” He asks incredulously. “How can you possibly be dating a vampire?”

                 “Hey, I know it’s not exactly a conventional relationship,” I reply defensively. “But like I said, he’s a special case. He helps me with the slaying – he’s got a soul.”

                 “What do you mean?”

                 I sigh in annoyance. “Don’t you know anything? When you’re made into a vampire you lose your human soul, which is what makes you evil. Angel had his returned and now he’s good, okay? He’s helped save my life and the lives of all my friends more times than I can count.”

                 “So, he’s not going to try and kill us all?” Riley says anxiously.

                 I shake my head. “No, though he might have a bit of a grudge against you for attacking me the other day. He’s sort of protective like that.”

                 He looks worriedly at me. “Do you love him?”

                 “That’s none of your business!”

                 “Do you?” He insists.

                 “Yes, if you must know.” I snap back. “I’ve been in love with him since I was sixteen years old. Are happy now?”

                 “No,” he answers, a horrified expression on his face. “I think we’ve made a terrible mistake.”

                 “What do you mean?” I ask, becoming anxious myself.

                 “Your boyfriend,” he tells me slowly and reluctantly. “Angel, did you say his name was? Well-”

                 I grab Riley by his shirtfront, suddenly filled with a deep and gut wrenching fear. “What? What have you done to him? If you’ve hurt him…”

* * * * *

                 I run through the streets of Sunnydale, speeding past the odd late night reveller heading home after an evening spent in the Bronze. Leaving Riley easily behind I head rush into the cemetery across town, the site of Angel’s usual patrol route. Slowing my pace, I scan the graveyard, yelling Angel’s name with the last of my breath. By the time I’ve covered the whole area and found no sign of him or anyone else, Riley has arrived, standing by the entrance gates, doubled over with exhaustion.

                 “He’s not here,” I tell Riley with no small amount of concern. “Nobody’s here.”

                 “Then they must have completed the operation already,” he replies, after recovering the ability to breathe normally. “It was scheduled for half an hour ago.”

                 I shut my eyes briefly and try not to panic, but it is difficult knowing exactly what Riley’s army buddies had planned for Angel. He told me they had planned to send a ten man ‘retrieval team’ after Angel, comprising of their best agents, all fully armed with weapons and stakes. “They won’t have staked him will they?” I ask fearfully.

                 “Well, only if he put up too much of a fight,” Riley answers reluctantly. “If they can’t execute the capture safely, then they’ll abandon the mission and go for the kill instead.”

                 I drop my head into my hands. “No, no, no, no…” I couldn’t imagine Angel just agreeing to let them abduct him without retaliating. “Radio them,” I order Riley. “Find out what happened.”

                 “I can’t.”

                 “Why not?”

                 “I haven’t got a radio on me,” he explains reasonably. Glancing over at him, I notice that he is in civilian clothes rather than his full army gear.

                 “What were you doing out tonight in the first place?” I ask suspiciously.

                 “Uh, well, I was supposed to distract you, while the team went after Angel.” He replies, fortunately managing to look ashamed about it, otherwise I would have flattened him there and then.

                 “And your bosses, whoever they are, thought I would be more likely to talk to you if you showed up in civvies.” I state with cool hostility. He nods in response and I continue. “Weren’t you afraid I’d hurt you?”

                 “No,” he clarifies. “The other night, you were the one who called the vampire – uh, Angel – off. You didn’t want to hurt me, despite what…I did to you. I argued that you weren’t a threat and the professor agreed to let me prove it.”

                 “Whose this professor guy you keep talking about?”

                 “She’s a woman, not a guy.” Riley answered. “Professor Walsh – she’s the one in charge of the research project.”

                 “So, she’s the one who wants to do all those creepy experiments on my boyfriend. I want to see her,” I demand urgently. “I want you to take me to whatever secret hideout place you have, before anybody lays a finger on Angel.”

                 He looks shocked by my suggestion. “I can’t do that. The Initiative is a secure facility, I can’t take you there. I’ve already told you enough classified information to earn myself a court-martial.”

                 “You want to know what?” I subject him to my most threatening glare. “I really don’t give damn about your military career. Now, either you take me there, or I follow behind the ambulance carrying your horribly disfigured body. And you better be following my meaning here, because I don’t like having to repeat myself.”

                 “Our headquarters are underneath UC Sunnydale,” he admits hesitantly. “I should be able to get you in there.”

                 “Good.” I reach inside my jacket for my cell phone, Giles’ latest idea for making sure our group can always keep in contact with one another. Angel has one too, but he always forgets to switch his on, a casualty of growing up in the eighteenth century, I suppose. “I’ll call the others and get them to meet me there.”

                 He shakes his head. “No, just you. You can’t just walk into the Initiative you know. You need security passes and code words and fingerprint scans. There’s no way I could sneak in more than one person.”

                 I think for a moment, then put my phone away once more. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just get there as quick as we can.”

* * * * *

                 We ride down in the elevator; Riley glancing nervously up towards the corner of the metal cubicle, where I can only assume a surveillance camera is located. The doors open and I am accosted by the sight of gleaming steel and brilliant white ceramic tiles. The room is cavernous, huge even – you could fit our entire house in here several times over.

                 “Whoa,” I exclaim. “You built all this since the earthquake?”

                 He shakes his head. “No the installation has been planned and under construction for years, we just had to accelerate the start of the project after the ‘Lennon Incident’.”

                 “The what?”

                 He smiles slightly. “That’s the code name for what happened in Sunnydale a couple of months back. Our project leader is a big fan of The Beatles.”

                 “No kidding.”

                 A long, high-pitched wail rips through the air, the unmistakable sound of something or someone in excruciating pain. Icy terror grips my heart and I am filled with a renewed urgency. Find Angel. What if that’s him they’re hurting? Please don’t let it be him.

                 I run down several flights of metallic stairs towards the sound, my footsteps loud and echoing through the complex, but I don’t care about being caught anymore. I don’t care about anything except finding Angel and stopping them hurting him.

                 At the bottom of the stairs is a vast expanse of floor, surrounded by banks of computers and doors leading off into other rooms. At the centre of the floor a group of people are gathered around an operating table, their attention focused on the table’s occupant, the one doing all the screaming. At the sound of my arrival they turn rapidly around, several soldiers touting large weapons rushing over to intercept me. I push the first one out of the way, kicking his fallen body out of my path. The next I fight briefly with, knocking the gun out of his hand and startling him with a swift punch to the head before pressing onwards. Eventually, I reach the table in the centre of the room and elbow a few white-coated officials out of the way in order to catch a glimpse of their current subject for experimentation.

                 It is a demon. Something green and slimy, with spikes sticking out of its head and a gaping red wound down its middle where its stomach has been sliced open. I stop my mad dash abruptly, unsure what my next course of action is to be now that I have realised Angel isn’t here. Suddenly I am grabbed from behind by a strong pair of arms and pulled back from the table. The sharp butt of a revolver digs into the back of my head.

                 “Intruder subdued, Ma’am.” A male voice barks from behind me. “Awaiting further orders.”

                 “How interesting,” remarks a middle aged woman dressed in a lab coat, who appears to be in charge. “Subject 14B. Looks like Agent Finn was wrong after all. Take her to the containment cells, while I finish this vivisection.”

                 “Yes, Ma’am.” The soldier holding me says, or tries to say as I am already in the process of leaning forward to throw him over my shoulders. Too shocked to even consider using his gun, he lands on the floor with a soft thud and I quickly bend over and relieve him of the weapon, pointing it now at him.

                 “Anyone comes any closer and you’ll end up with your friend’s brains decorating your nice clean uniforms.” I have no intention of carrying out the threat, as I probably would even have a clue how to fire the gun (don’t they have safety catches or something you have to take off first?). But nobody else here knows that so they all look suitably worried and some even take a step backwards.

                 “Sound the security alarm would you Agent Clarke.” The woman, whom I assume to be the infamous Professor Walsh, commands. “And tell the back-up agents to bring a tranquilliser gun.”

                 “Hey! Hang on a minute,” I yell after the rapidly retreating soldier. “I said nobody move, okay? And none of you are going to be shooting me with a tranquilliser gun, either. I’m not some animal you can just put down, you know.”

                 “Really?” The professor asks with obvious interest. “What are you then?”

                 “She’s human,” Riley has finally caught me up and is now striding across the laboratory floor towards our group.

                 “Agent Finn,” Professor Walsh confronts him with obvious distaste. “I presume that you are responsible for this little interruption.”

                 “I’m sorry Ma’am,” he mumbles. “But she insisted on being brought here. She wants the vampire back.”

                 “Hostile Eight? But we haven’t even started studying him yet.”

                 “Good then I won’t have to rip your arms off and beat you to death with them.” I tell her, my voice losing some of his threatening tone due to the relief flooding my body as I realise that firstly, Angel is not dead, they just have him locked away somewhere, and secondly, they haven’t harmed him yet.

                 The professor looks at me quizzically. “Are you sure she’s human, Finn? The level of strength she exhibits would be impossible for any normal woman of her size and age. Plus she seems to have significant violent impulses.”

                 “Hey, lady,” I reach down and pick up the fallen soldier by the back of his shirt collar, holding the gun to his head as I do so. “Any questions – ask me. I may have flunked tenth grade English, but I think I’m pretty well up on the conversational aspect of things. Now,” I jerk the soldier’s collar, eliciting a gulp of pain. “Take me to Angel or I might show you just how violent my impulses can get.”

                 “Angel?” The professor asks.

                 “That seems to be the hostile’s name, Ma’am,” Riley interjects.

                 “So, not only does she fraternise with this creature, but she calls him by a pet name?”

                 Riley glances uncertainly between me and the professor. “Uh, she also says she’s in love with him. She claims that unlike most of the hostiles we have encountered previously, this one does not hunt and kill humans for food.”

                 Professor Walsh thinks for a while. “In that case he would make an even more desirable subject for study.”

                 “For the final time!” I exclaim with increasing desperation. “Nobody is studying anybody. All I want is to get Angel back then we’ll both leave!”

                 She sighs then waves a hand in the direction of several uniformed army guys. “Fine, take her to the containment cells and set Hostile Eight free, then escort both of them off the premises.”

                 Keeping hold of my hostage I follow the Riley and two other soldiers across the room and through a large set of sliding doors, vaguely registering Walsh having a whispered conversation with another scientist before tagging along behind. Through the doors is a long, wide corridor lined with small, plain cubicles. Most are empty but there is the occasional one occupied. Quickly scanning the room I see several vampires in game face, one of which I remember giving me the slip the other night, two demons – one yellow one purple – and, right down in the end cell, Angel, sitting peacefully on the floor his face lighting up when he sees me.

                 I drop the commando and run over to him, pressing my hand up against the clear barrier between us, which I assume to be glass. I just see Angel’s mouth move and make out the words “No, Buffy!” before the jolt of electricity hits me and I am flung backwards to land in a heap five feet away.

                 Shaking my head to try and dispel some of the dizziness and the shock I climb unsteadily to my feet. “Let him out of there,” I order in a shaky voice.

                 The professor steps towards me. “This creature is really your mate?”

                 I give her a withering look. “No, he’s my boyfriend and you’ve just ruined our plans for a quiet evening in. Now, can we please just leave?”

                 “But you do realise how illogical this relationship is don’t you?” She asks. “A human and a vampire. You could never marry or have children together. The creature can’t even go out into the daylight with you. And it has a significantly longer lifespan – they age at quite a different rate.”

                 I glance over at Angel, who refuses to meet my eye, instead dropping his head. These are exactly the issues we never talk about, the ones we pretend don’t matter or don’t exist. I turn back to Walsh. “If you’re done with your little speech we’d like to go now.”

                 “Certainly,” she nods at one of the commandoes who types in a security code to open Angel’s cell. Cautiously he steps out, giving the soldiers wary looks. I reach over to take his hand and we head out of the corridor back into the main room.

                 I start in the direction of the steps back up towards the elevator, but we are steered off along another route. “Where exactly are we going?” I ask apprehensively.

                 “Oh, it’s just an alternative exit,” we are informed smoothly. “Nothing to worry about.”

                 I nod and grip Angel’s hand all the more tightly. We pass through a door into a long low room and look up to see a bank of soldiers all holding some kind of tranquilliser guns in hands and pointing them at Angel and me. Turning around I see another group of soldiers behind us also touting weapons.

                 “It’s a trap,” I whisper in horror.

                 Professor Walsh appears through a side door to the room. “Did you really think we were just going to let you walk out of here? And allow you spread the secrets of our organisation amongst the whole town? This is a highly classified military organisation. We don’t just let people wonder in and out. Besides we might never get another opportunity to study two such unique individuals again. No, I’m afraid you will be staying here – indefinitely.”

                 Angel squeezes my hand in a silent communication then we drop our link and I fly at Walsh. Pinning her against the wall, while Angel fights off the soldiers that are intent on attacking us both, I pull an electronic keycard out of the professor’s pocket. Throwing the woman aside into the fray, I swiftly release the lock on the door she just came through, pulling Angel back down the corridor with me. He knocks unconscious a couple of soldiers following us and uses their bodies to block the route behind us. As we rush down the hall I feel a stinging pain in the back of my leg. Reaching down I pull out a tranquilliser dart, which I quickly discard.

                 As we turn the corner, my leg starts to feel heavy and numb and my run turns into more of a hobble. Angel turns back in concern, but I urge him to continue. “I’ll be fine, go on.”

                 But he won’t go without me and slows his pace down to match mine. Turning another corner in the maze of the complex we suddenly encounter Riley, barring the way, holding a gun.

                 “Let us past,” Angel growls.

                 “I’m not sure if I can do that,” Riley says uncertainly.

                 “For Christ’s sake, Riley,” I yell. “Just get out the way!”

                 “I can’t. I’ve got orders to stop you. I’m already in enough trouble just for bringing you here in the first place. The professor won’t harm you – she just wants to ask you a few questions, set a few things straight.”

                 “What, you really don’t believe they won’t lock us up and experiment on us?” I ask incredulously. “That we’ll have a nice friendly chat and then go home. How naïve are you? You saw what she was doing to that demon earlier.”

                 “That was just a routine dissection-”

                 “The thing was still alive while she was chopping it up! What’s to say she won’t do that to me – or Angel?”

                 Riley says nothing, but his gun does waver slightly.

                 “Just let us go now, Riley.” I press my advantage. “No one will ever know.”

                 He drops the weapon and steps to one side. Angel pushes past and I go to follow, pausing at the last minute to punch Riley in the face. Hard.

                 “That’s just to persuade the nasty professor that you were forced to let us escape,” I smile sweetly then head off after Angel.

                 A few yards later my leg collapses completely and I slump against the corridor wall, breathing heavily. What is it about these commando guys that makes them keep drugging me? Angel scoops me up in his arms and we continue our bid for freedom, eventually finding ourselves in the old and far too familiar (for my liking, anyway) sewer system. Feeling gradually begins to return to my lower body and I ask Angel to put me down. He refuses, however, and insists on holding me tightly to his chest all the way back to the mansion.

* * * * *

                 I arch my hips upwards pushing harder against Angel’s hand. His tongue plunges into my mouth in concert with his fingers working in and out of my lower body. Two fingers become three and their pace increases, forcing my tight muscles to stretch around him. I squeeze my eyes shut, as a brilliant white begins to encroach upon the edge of my vision. I ride the wave of my pleasure, my body tensing rigidly at its crest. Then just as I think I cannot stand it any longer, that this assault is too much, that I will die now from sheer bliss alone, the wave breaks, stealing my breath away from me as it does so.

                 I lie back panting against Angel’s cheek, my chest heaving with exertion, every inch of my skin flushed with burning hot blood. He releases my arms and lies down next to me, tracing light patterns on my stomach and breasts with his fingertips, whilst waiting for me to recover. I let the fire between my legs fade to a dull throbbing then smile wickedly at him.

                 “Your turn.”

                 He leans over to kiss me lightly, laughter on his lips. Turning me gently over on to my back he deposits a long line of feathery kisses down my spine, making me shiver in anticipation. He scoops one hand underneath my belly urging me up onto my hands and knees. I am slightly nervous, I have never been in this position before, but obviously Angel has, as he soothes away all my concerns with his large, smooth hands. Caressing my bare back, my breasts, my hips, my butt cheeks, he gradually moves to be kneeling behind me. Bending forward to blanket my body with his broad chest he nuzzles into the nape of my neck and whispers into my ear.

                 “Are you okay?”

                 I nod mutely, wanting nothing more at this moment than to feel his hardness, which is currently pressing against my thigh, deep inside me. “Please…” I whisper.

                 His weight lifts off me and I sense him instead hovering above my entrance, then in one smooth movement he – ah – thrusts up into me. He pulls out and plunges in again, only this time I match him with a thrust of my own hips. I let out a moan, somewhere between pleasure and pain, as my body takes more of him than it ever has before. And yet still I urge him on, faster, harder, deeper and I love every minute of it. Just me and him and the pure physicality of the act. Angel shudders and releases his seed inside of me then my arms buckle underneath me and we collapse together on to the bed, a tangle of arms and legs and skin and hair.

                 Already feeling the first grasp of sleep reaching out to me I snuggle under the covers with Angel, his large body spooning me from behind.

                 “Buffy,” he murmurs into my hair. “About this evening…”

                 “Shush,” I reply. “Sleep now, talk tomorrow.”

                 “Okay,” he acquiesces, mid-yawn and we drift off into unconscious together…

Chapter Eight