Some say love, it is a river
�����That drowns the tender reed;
Some say love, it is a razor
�����That leaves your soul to bleed;
Some say love, it is a hunger
�����An endless, aching need;
I say love, it is a flower
�����And you its only seed.

�����It was cold and clear and bright, a perfect night to be patrolling for vampires with the person you liked best in the world. Riley glanced over at Buffy. "When are you going to tell me about him?" he asked softly.

�����Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Him who?"

�����"The guy who hurt you so badly. And I don't mean Parker Abrams."

�����Buffy looked away. "Are you sure you want to know?" Her voice was flat.

�����"Yes," he replied, stopping and turning to face her. "Buffy, you've told me about the Master and about drowning and being dead for those few minutes. I know about Kendra and Faith, and I have a pretty fair inkling of what your life has been like. �Pain and death,' you told me once, but I know that the pain I see in you comes from more than just the deaths of your friends."

�����"Faith isn't dead," Buffy automatically corrected. "And she isn't my friend - not anymore."

�����"She might as well be dead - " Riley stopped and took a deep breath. "That's irrelevant. Buffy, it's obvious that you've been deeply hurt by someone you cared for. It's not your mother and you seem to be on okay terms with your father, so that pretty much leaves only a boyfriend. I'd like to know how he done you wrong."

�����"Why?" Buffy asked bluntly, ignoring his feeble attempt at humor.

�����"Because talking is part of the healing process. Because letting the pain out is the first step to easing it. Because I don't like to see you hurting." Then Riley made a wry face. "And also so I don't accidentally say or do something that reminds you of him."

�����"I see." One corner of her mouth twitched. "Then we'll need to stop patrolling together."

�����Riley's eyebrows shot upward. "He patrolled with you?" Even Willow and Xander didn't do that, close as they were to Buffy. Well, hardly ever.

�����Buffy resumed walking. "He patrolled with me, he fought beside me, he protected my back and I protected his. We were together for over two years. He helped me unmask Faith and helped us stop the mayor's Ascension. And then he left me."

�����"Why?" He made his voice gentle, compassionate.

�����"So I could have a �normal life.' " He'd never heard her sound so bitter, then a breath caught in her throat. "And because it hurts too much when we're together."

�����"Why - " he began.

�����She turned to him. Quietly she said, "Don't ask me unless you're absolutely sure you want the answer. Because you may not like what you hear." She shook her head. "Scratch that. I guarantee you won't like it."

�����Riley faced her, wondering anxiously just what in hell the guy had done to her. "I'm sure," he said just as quietly.

�����"All right, then," she replied. "He didn't �do me wrong,' Riley - not the way you're thinking. It wasn't anything like what happened with Parker. We loved each other - we still do. But we can't be together, not the way we want to be. We can love but we can't make love, however much we want to. He's a vampire."

�����Riley's jaw dropped. "A - vampire? You can't be serious." But one look at her face told him she was quite serious. He stammered, "Buffy, vampires are nothing but vicious animals. How could you possibly love one of them?"

�����"Angel is not an animal." She spoke very clearly and precisely. "I love him and he loves me."

�����"He loves you?" Riley repeated in disbelief. "Vampires are demons, for God's sake! They aren't capable of love."

�����Her voice was calm. "Angel is. He's different. He has his soul."

�����He stared at her, remembering what she'd taught him about vampires, that the soul left when the person was killed and then the demon took possession of the body. "What? How?"

�����"A gypsy curse. A long time ago he killed a young Romany girl and her tribe punished him by returning his soul to his body. His vampire body, with all of its memories."

�����She nodded slowly at the look on his face. "Imagine finding yourself suddenly remembering how you tortured and killed hundreds of men and women, and even children. It wasn't really you who did it, you know that, but you have the memories, all one hundred and twenty-plus years of them. You remember the screams, the terror, the pleas for mercy - the blood."

�����"My God." Appalled, Riley closed his eyes.

����� "Angel's lived with those memories for a hundred years. He hasn't fed from a living human being since he was cursed."

����� "Hasn't he?" Riley spoke with sudden insight. "What about those marks on your neck? He put them there, didn't he?"

����� Buffy put her hand up to her neck, fingering the circular pattern of scars. Riley stared in astonishment at the soft look on her face. She said, "He was dying. Faith shot him with a poisoned arrow. The only cure was the blood of a Slayer."

����� Riley's own blood ran cold as a second insight hit him. "That's why you were fighting Faith. You were going to bring her to him - so he could feed off her." He could hardly believe that Buffy would intentionally plan to deliver a human being to a vampire.

����� "Yes." Buffy's eyes met his squarely. He looked away from their unflinching gaze. "But she escaped."

����� "So you let him drink from you." His mouth didn't seem to be working properly; the words sounded sluggish and thick.

����� "Let him? No." Buffy shook her head slightly.

����� Riley almost choked. "You mean he forced you?"

����� Buffy shook her head again. "No, I mean I forced him. Angel was so weak he could hardly stand. I hit him, and kept hitting him until he vamped out. Even then he tried to resist, but, as I said, he was weak and in pain. Riley, what's the strongest instinct in living beings?"

����� "The will to survive," he answered automatically, too stunned to wonder at the change of subject.

����� Buffy nodded. "Exactly. And don't tell me that vampires aren't living beings. The demon inside them is alive. Angel wasn't able to resist for long." She studied his face. "Why do you look so shocked? What was I supposed to do, just let him die when I knew I could save him?"

����� She took a step toward him. "Riley, I love Angel. I will always love Angel. I can't change that any more than I can stop my heart from beating. He's a part of me, and being away from him hurts, every day. But I live with it, every day, just as he does."

����� Riley felt numb. With stiff lips he asked, "Then why are you seeing me?"

����� Buffy came even closer. "Because I like you. I like you a lot. And because when I'm with you the pain goes away a little." Her incredible eyes looked up at him, deep and haunted. Haunting. Riley stared into them for a moment, then slowly nodded.

����� "I can accept that," he said. "But, Buffy, you have to know I'm going to do everything in my power to make you forget him." He bent down and kissed her, smiling to himself as he felt her respond. It was only a matter of time. She'd get over this first infatuation. How could a vampire who couldn't make love to her compare to a breathing, living human who could? Not that they had yet, but he was confident that they would, eventually. There was no rush; it would happen when the time was right.

����� They drew apart. Buffy smiled up at him and they resumed their patrol. She knew what he was thinking as certainly as if she could actually hear his thoughts. He didn't believe that her love for Angel was real; he thought it was just a schoolgirl infatuation, that in time she'd forget him. Well, let him keep on believing that if it made him happy.

Ten Months Later

����� Okay, so where was she? Riley paced outside the entrance to Sunnydale's oldest cemetery. Eight o'clock, she'd told him, and it was - he checked the time - okay, so he was a little early. It was twenty til eight. Buffy was probably finishing up her sweep of the grounds, getting ready to meet him here.

����� He walked through the entrance and stood a few yards inside, searching the shadows to see if he could see her approaching. Nope. Just darkness, moonlight, and the pale gleam of mausoleums - of which this cemetery had more than its fair share. He took his taser out of his backpack and started walking up one of the paths. If he didn't meet her coming soon he'd turn around and go back.

����� Ten minutes later he decided he'd gone far enough. Chances were that Buffy had taken a different route to their rendezvous point. God knew there were enough choices. This cemetery was a maze of trails. He veered to his left and came upon another walkway. Riley studied it suspiciously, well acquainted with the way the paths in this place meandered here, there and everywhere except the place you wanted to get to. This particular one, however, appeared to head in the right direction, at least as far as he could see, so he started down it.

����� Riley stopped. What was that? He listened hard. Voices . . . more than one, talking. He hesitated a second, then went to investigate. It was probably only a courting couple, but it should be checked. Besides, courting in a Sunnydale cemetery was more than stupid, it was suicidal. Cautiously he followed the faint sound.

����� There. The voices were coming from behind that crumbly old mausoleum. He drew nearer, then stopped and listened.

����� "I knew you were here somewhere - I felt you."

����� Riley straightened up. It was Buffy. For half a second he thought she was talking to him, then a second voice answered.

����� "I know; I'm sorry." The voice was soft but undeniably male. Apology changed to just a tinge of amusement. "It didn't seem to throw you off, though. Those vamps you dusted barely knew what hit them."

����� Then the amusement faded, replaced by another emotion; Riley wasn't sure exactly what. Admiration? Respect? Both of those? "A year ago you were already better than any Slayer I'd ever seen. Now - Buffy, you're beyond incredible."

����� "Is that why you're here, Angel? To tell me how good I've become at killing vampires?"

����� Angel? About to walk around and reveal himself, Riley froze in place.

����� Buffy went on, relentlessly. "We had a deal, remember? You stay in your town and I stay in mine; we don't see each other."

����� "I remember."

����� "Then why are you here?" Buffy demanded tightly. Riley silently crept around the side until he came upon a place where the old bricks had crumbled away, leaving a good-sized hole in the wall. He could see into the mausoleum and out again to the other side, courtesy of a wrought iron gate that served as a door. Buffy stood in front of the gate, in profile to him; he couldn't see Angel.

����� "Because I couldn't stay away any longer." Angel's voice was bitter, defeated. "Because I couldn't go another night without seeing you. I had to know that you were all right."

����� Buffy tilted her head. "I'm peachy. Why wouldn't I be? I'm living a normal life now, just like you said I should - well, as normal as a Slayer can have. You know, considering that I'm risking my life fighting evil demons almost every night, and all. But, hey, I'm almost twenty and I'm still alive, which puts me ahead of something like thirty-seven percent of the previous Slayers. I'm going to a normal college like a normal girl, and I have a nice, normal boyfriend who seems to care a lot for me. And, oh yes, he also hunts demons, so you see we have a lot in common. I think that's important, don't you?"

����� Riley frowned at the too-bright, brittle tone in her voice.

����� There was a moment of silence. "I'm - glad you've found someone who - who makes you happy." The words came stumblingly from Angel's lips. Riley heard him take a deep breath. "Do you love him?" The words were so soft Riley wasn't sure he'd heard them properly.

����� "Riley's nice, and he's sweet. He's good-looking, he's got a great body, and he's really smart. And he has a great sense of humor. I can laugh with him."

����� "Do you love him?" A little louder this time. Angel stepped into view. Riley instinctively ducked back, but the couple were too intent on each other to notice anything else. Cautiously he edged forward again, curious to see what Buffy's first love looked like. He blinked. Okay, he was tall, though Riley thought he had at least a couple of inches on him. He was dark; his hair, that is. His skin, of course, was pale as marble. His face - well, he was attractive enough, Riley guessed, but -

����� Riley gave a silent laugh of wry amusement at himself. In his mind he'd been justifying Buffy's attraction to a vampire by imagining someone exotic, someone straight out of Hollywood - a Tom Cruise or a Brad Pitt. Someone so extraordinary that any young girl could be excused for losing her head over him. To find out that he was just an ordinary good-looking guy - for the first time Riley felt a twinge of jealousy. He was glad to note that Angel's face betrayed the same emotion.

����� Buffy went on. "He's really athletic, plays all kinds of sports. He has a good body - oh, I already said that. Let's see, what else can I tell you about him? In bed he's passionate and considerate." She came closer to Angel, staring up at him intently. "And oh, yes. Did I mention that his heart beats?"

����� Angel flinched as if she'd struck him. "Don't," he said in a low voice.

����� "Don't?" Buffy seized the word. "Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't understand. It's all right for you to decide that we can't be together because your heart doesn't beat, but it's not all right for me to remind you about it? Sorry, lover, it doesn't work that way. You wanted me to have a normal relationship, remember? Well, now I've got one, with a normal guy who breathes and eats solid food and actually has a pulse. And you know what? He'll probably never leave me and tell me it's for my own good. Aren't you happy for me?"

����� It was Riley's turn to take a deep breath. He'd known that Buffy had been deeply hurt by this relationship, but he hadn't realized the full extent of it. The depth of her anger now betrayed just how deep the pain really cut, not to mention the intensity of the feeling she'd had for her former "boyfriend." The feeling she obviously still had.

����� Angel stepped back. There was no expression on his face now that Riley could see. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come back," he said tonelessly. "I'll go now." He started to turn.

����� Buffy gave a bitter laugh. "Sure, why not?" she spat out. "Go on, leave! It's what you do best." In a flash Angel swung around and caught her by the arms. At the sight of his ferocious expression Riley stiffened to attention, ready to leap to Buffy's aid if necessary.

����� "Do you think it was easy for me to leave?" Angel's eyes blazed. Gone was the flat monotone of moments before. His voice shook with passion; it was almost a growl. "Every step I took away from you was like a knife ripping into my heart - my unbeating heart. It was like dying all over again. Not being able to see you, or even talk to you, is worse torture than anything I endured in hell. You're in my every waking thought, somewhere, and when I sleep I dream of you, and I remember. I remember what it was like to hold you in my arms, and kiss you, and make love to you. And then I wake - "

����� His voice broke. Riley felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Vampires could have sex? He'd assumed that the reason Buffy and Angel couldn't make love was because Angel was a vampire, but apparently that wasn't true. Then why . . . ? His mind whirled. He heard Buffy's voice and looked up again.

����� The tears on her face glinted silver in the moonlight as she said, unsteadily, "Then you wake up and remember that we can't make love ever again - and every part of you aches because you want so badly to be with me." Here she let out a sob. Angel released her arms, raised a hand to her face, and brushed away her tears with a tenderness that shook their unseen observer.

����� "Buffy, don't. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," he choked out, but she continued in a voice that trembled more with every sentence, "You're aching, but there are things you've got to do so you push the ache away and try not to think about it. You try to bury it beneath the work or by being with your friends, and that helps a little bit, but it's still there underneath and you know it'll always be there for as long as you live, and somehow you'll have to live with it. . . ."

����� She couldn't speak for sobbing now. Angel groaned out her name, then crushed her to him, murmuring incoherently. Buffy rose on tiptoe and flung her arms around his neck, holding him just as tightly. After a long moment they drew apart enough to look at each other. Riley saw the tear tracks on both faces.

����� "God, Angel, I'm sorry," whispered Buffy. "I said such hateful things to you. I'm sorry."

����� "I love you." Angel's whisper was fervent with emotion.

����� "I know. And I love you." Buffy lifted her face as Angel bent down to her. They kissed, lightly at first, then more deeply. Their bodies strained together, and their broken little cries drifted back to Riley. They were the sounds of rising passion.

����� Unable to watch any more, he turned away and leaned back against the wall, numb with shock. Buffy had seemed content - no, more than just content. He'd thought she was truly happy being with him, that she'd forgotten her schoolgirl infatuation for the tormented vampire. Well, he knew the truth now. Her feelings for Angel still ran deep and strong. And no longer could he delude himself that the vampire didn't really care for her - that a vampire couldn't feel real love. It was obvious that Angel did care for her, deeply - that he loved her.

����� He heard movement on the far side of the crypt, as though the couple had broken apart, and then the sound of heavy breathing. "Angel, we have to stop now," gasped Buffy. "If we keep going we'll only want more, and it isn't safe."

����� "Only for me." Angel's husky voice conveyed a meaning Riley didn't understand. Apparently Buffy did. "No," he heard her say. "Not if you can't." He frowned in puzzlement.

����� "Please." Angel's voice grew even huskier. "Let me have something to remember when I'm lying alone in my bed. Let me remember your softness . . . your heat."

����� "Angel," Buffy whispered. Then she gasped, softly.

����� Riley shot away from the wall as if had suddenly become electrified. He knew that sound; he heard it almost every time they were in bed together. Using every skill in his training, he stole silently away, leaving the two to their love play.

����� "Let me remember your softness . . . " Angel murmured in her ear. His hand slipped under her thick sweater and caressed her breast. As usual she wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples hardened almost at once, so hungry was she for his touch.

����� "Angel," she whispered longingly.

����� " . . . your heat." His hand moved down her stomach and pressed between her legs. She gasped at the tingling thrill that shot through her. "No. It - isn't fair," she managed to say. "Not when you can't - " His fingers moved against her and she caught her breath.

����� "I don't care," he said, his voice thick. "Let me touch you, and remember. . . ." His hand moved to the waistband of her pants. She stopped him.

����� "Not out here," she whispered, capitulating. Angel scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside the old crypt over to a stone bench that ran along one shadowed wall. He sat down on the bench. Buffy curled up on his lap and drew his head to hers. His strong arms cradled her gently as they kissed. Instantly their passion blazed high.

����� Angel's mouth left hers and traveled down her neck, pressing cold, burning kisses along its length. She lay back in his arms. His hand was inside her sweater again, cupping her breast, kneading; his thumb caressed her taut nipple. He pushed the sweater upward, and bent his head. His mouth closed around her, and Buffy gasped out loud as his cool, silky tongue swirled, tasting her, savoring her. He released that breast and tried to do the same to the other one, but the position was too awkward.

����� Buffy got up and pulled the sweater over her head, shivering a little as the cool night air hit her bare skin. She sat down again on Angel's lap, this time facing him and straddling his thighs. He pulled her closer, so that her knees rested on the bench on either side of his hips and their torsos touched.

����� She shivered. Angel's erection pushed against her, throbbed against her, making her throb in return. Memories of their one night together began to surface, bringing their usual mixture of ecstatic joy and paralyzing pain. Angel lowered his head to her neglected breast and lavished the same attention on it that he had with the first one. She leaned back to give him better access. His mouth pulled at her soft flesh, his velvety tongue caressed, and Buffy's breath came faster.

����� She remembered the first time he'd seen her breasts, the night they made love, how he'd just looked at them as if they were something beautiful and precious, before leaning down to kiss one rosy tip. He'd been so gentle with her, so careful, and yet she'd learned more about passion from him in those few hours than in the months that she and Riley had been having sex. Tears came to her eyes. Angel's hand was at her waistband again. This time she didn't stop it. He unzipped her pants and slid his hand inside. Buffy caught her breath.

����� Angel groaned. Even through the lace and cotton of her panties he could feel her moisture. The scent of her arousal was overpowering to his vampiric senses; it was driving him out of his mind. As was the throbbing in his groin. He withdrew his hand and closed his eyes, breathing hard. He didn't need the oxygen but he'd discovered early in their relationship that the mere effort of breathing, the mechanics of pulling the air in and expelling it again, was an effective means of maintaining control. Which he'd always needed around Buffy.

����� "Angel?"

����� He opened his eyes. Buffy's face was filled with concern - and a touch of fear. He smiled reassuringly at her. "I'm all right." His eyes roamed over her naked torso, drinking her in. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, and kissed her again.

����� He found the elastic of her panties and carefully slipped his hand inside. He encountered her thatch of curls, sliding his fingers through them until they found her silken heat. Watching her face, he stroked the velvety plumpness of her outer lips. Immediately his fingertips were coated with her moisture.

����� "I remember the first time I touched you like this," Angel whispered. He stroked her again. "You were so soft - " Another stroke, a circular one that spread her warm dew over the upper half of his fingers. In this position she was wide open to him, vulnerable. He looked into her eyes, seeing only an absolute trust and love that brought tears to his own eyes, and slid his middle finger inside her. " - and so hot."

����� Buffy gasped softly. Angel slowly withdrew his finger then slipped it within her again, as deeply as he could, searching for that one particular spot. It should be right around . . . there . . . somewhere. Yes, there it was. Gently he massaged the smooth little patch deep inside her body. Buffy looked slightly puzzled, as if wondering what he was doing, then a few moments later her eyes widened in surprised delight. She murmured something soft and indistinct. Angel pulled his hand back and slid his fingers along her slick, hot skin until he found the nub of her clitoris. It was already distended with passion, he could feel.

����� "But you weren't this wet," he continued softly. "Not at first. But then I did this - " Slowly, softly, he brushed his fingers over the very tip of the nub. Buffy shuddered. He repeated his gesture, then repeated it again and again. " - and I kept doing it, kept touching you, kept loving you with my hand."

����� Buffy's hips began undulating in rhythm with his hand's movements. She bent her head and kissed him, ravishing his mouth as he was ravishing her body. When she finally drew back her breath was coming in loud gasps. "I remember," she said hoarsely. "You kept touching me - there - until - " He gave her another caress. A heavy flush mounted her face and chest; her hands clutched his shoulders. " - until I thought - I was - going - out of my mind." He did it again, this time pressing a bit more firmly against her swollen bud. Her eyes closed and her head fell back.

����� "Buffy," he whispered. "Look at me." Her eyelids fluttered open. With perceptible effort she raised her head and looked at him. Her eyes were dark, the pupils so dilated that only a thin pale rim of the iris showed around them. He caressed the sensitive nub again and watched as she shivered and fought to keep her eyelids from closing.

����� "Angel," she said thickly, "I - "

����� Angel thrust his finger inside her and unerringly found the same spot he'd located before. Again he massaged it, not as gently this time. Buffy cried out; her body grew rigid, then she shuddered and Angel felt her steamy depths come alive around him, clenching and quivering. It wasn't until the last little quiver had stopped and Buffy sank against him that he removed his finger, slowly and regretfully, giving one last caress of her clitoris as he passed it, but gently, knowing how extremely sensitive she would be right then.

����� Buffy tugged feebly at his sweater. "Take it off," she breathed. "Please."

����� Angel hesitated, then removed the sweater. With a sigh, Buffy instantly nestled against him. He held her close. Her hands moved caressingly over his shoulders and chest. He closed his eyes, savoring her touch, her warmth against him, until her caresses moved down his stomach. He put his hand on hers, stopping her. "Buffy - "

����� "Please," she whispered pleadingly. "Let me touch you once, at least."

����� He shuddered with longing at the image this evoked, and had to steady his voice before he could answer. "That will only make it harder."

����� "I don't think that's possible," she murmured, wiggling against him for just a moment. Angel had to laugh, but inwardly he agreed. He was so stiff it was becoming painful. For one second he considered letting her go ahead, but then he came to his senses. It was much too dangerous. Even though in his current state of mind the idea of being happy seemed ludicrous, they couldn't risk it. He stifled a moan, his longing for her a physical ache in his bones. And elsewhere.

����� "Angel, I want to give you something too," Buffy said, pleadingly. Angel leaned forward and kissed her, then held her tight. "Buffy," he breathed. "You *have* given me something. You've given me a memory I'll always treasure."

����� "After you've gone," she said flatly. She turned her face into his neck; he felt her tears on his skin. "You're leaving again, aren't you?"

����� He clenched his jaw. "I must; there's no other way." Never had words been harder to say. Angel held her close and kissed the top of her head, never wanting to let her go.

����� "I know," she whispered. Her shoulders slumped. "It's too dangerous for us to be together. We'd always be wanting more than we can have. God, it's not fair, especially for you. You can touch me and give me release, but I can't do the same for you."

����� Suddenly she sat upright. "But you can. Can't you?"

����� Angel stared, at a loss. "Can't I what?"

����� Buffy's eyes never left his as she slid a little away from him. She took his hand and placed it between their bodies, resting it on the bulge in his groin. Angel blinked, then his eyes widened when she pressed down on his hand and began moving it, forcing his hand to massage the engorged flesh that was causing the fly of his pants to resemble a tent. The pressure sent an electric jolt through his entire body. An involuntary moan escaped his lips. "Buffy - "

�����"I remember too, Angel," she murmured, moving his hand again. "I remember touching you for the first time." Her free hand slowly moved over his shoulder and down his chest, caressing. "I remember how beautiful you looked with the moonlight streaming over your bare chest, and how dumb I felt when I couldn't get your pants unzipped and you had to do it."

�����Angel started to smile at the memory, but Buffy deftly slipped her hand underneath his, unhooked the waistband of his pants and pulled down the zipper, in one smooth motion. Then she reached in and gently freed his raging erection from its confinement. A shudder went over Angel at the feel of her hands holding him, caressing him - only once, then she stopped.

�����"I was so nervous," she said throatily, leaning her forehead against his, her breath warm on his face. "I'd never touched a man before, and I didn't know what to do. But then you took my hand, like this" - she lifted his hand - "and you put my fingertips on you" - she wrapped his fingers around his shaft - "and I felt you for the first time."

�����Buffy released his hand. Mesmerized by her words and the memories, Angel slowly moved his hand along his swollen length. The rampant head had long since burst through the protective folds of the foreskin; he felt a drop of moisture as his fingers brushed over the sensitive tip.

�����"I couldn't believe anything so hard could also be that soft," she continued. "I ran my fingers over you, feeling you. You were like steel covered in velvet."

�����The memory sleeted through Angel like a shower of electric needles - her soft fingers touching him in wonder, caressing slowly up and down, circling, squeezing. . . . He groaned, and his hand began moving faster.

�����Buffy kissed him softly. "And then . . . Do you remember what I did then?" she breathed against his lips. Her mouth moved to his neck and kissed him there, giving gentle little nips that he felt all the way to his toes.

�����"I - remember," he managed to choke out. As if he could forget! Every moment of that night was seared into his memory. A hundred years wouldn't erase her slightest moan, or the taste of her, or what it felt like to lose himself in her soft heat.

�����Her breath whispered against his ear. "I leaned over . . . and I kissed your cock." The shock of hearing that particular word from her lips sent excitement plunging through his nerves. "And then" - her lips moved to his shoulder and down his chest - "then I touched it with my tongue, like this." He felt the wet warmth of her tongue circling over his left nipple, and gave an involuntary jerk. His hand glided over his swollen skin; he felt ready to burst.

�����"And then I took it in my mouth, like this." She sucked gently at his nipple. The memory of watching her hot mouth close over him blazed through Angel's mind. Buffy continued in a throaty whisper, "I wanted to suck you longer, but you couldn't wait. You rolled over on top of me . . . "

�����" . . . yes . . . "

�����" . . . and you lay between my legs . . ."

�����" . . . yes . . . " His body was on fire.

�����" . . . and you slowly . . . carefully . . . entered me. I was so ready for you, Angel - do you remember how wet I was?" Her voice was thick.

�����"I - remember." Angel could barely choke out the words.

�����The bitter knowledge that the ultimate completion they had known that night was now forbidden to them swept through Angel like a tidal wave. Tears fell from his eyes even as every nerve in his body drew together in a hot, white knot and then exploded outward. He gave a guttural cry that was half a sob, and felt the cold stickiness of his ejaculate spew over his hand.

�����When it was over he opened his eyes and looked at Buffy, only to see the same tears on her cheeks that he was shedding. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped off his hand then gathered her close, kissing her hair, her neck. "God, Buffy," he whispered. "I love you."

�����"When do you have to go back?" she asked in a small voice.

�����Angel closed his eyes briefly. "I told Cordelia I'd be back by morning." Buffy didn't say anything, but she took a deep, shaky breath and let it out again. Then she shivered. Angel reached over and retrieved her sweater. "Here, you better put this on before you catch cold."

�����Buffy got up and pulled the sweater over her head, then fastened her pants. Angel took the opportunity to do the same, then they resumed their positions, but with Buffy sitting sideways on his lap rather than straddling him. She put one arm around his neck and he held her. After a time her soft voice drifted to his ear. "I wish we could stay like this forever, just holding each other and not having to think about anything else."

�����Angel smiled a little. "That would be nice." Then he shifted uneasily. "Except that I'm having a Zen experience here."

�����"What?" Buffy looked blank.

�����"I think I've become one with this bench," Angel explained drily. "At least, that's what my rear end feels like."

�����Buffy gave a wry little laugh. "And so reality intrudes once again." Suddenly she shot upright. "Oh my God. What time is it?"

�����Surprised, Angel said, "I don't know, around nine, maybe a little later. Why?"

�����Buffy bit her lip. "I was supposed to meet Riley here at eight."

�����"You were meeting him here?" Angel tried not to show the jealousy that gripped him at the mention of that name.

�����"Not here here - at the cemetery here. At the entrance, actually." She looked around them uneasily, then stood up, walked over to the gate, and looked outside. "He might decide to come looking for me."

�����"An hour later?" Angel raised an eyebrow. He also got to his feet, stretching the kinks out of his back.

�����"Oh." Buffy blinked. "No; you're right. He wouldn't wait that long, so - so maybe he couldn't make it. Oh well." She shrugged. "I guess I'll find out later."

�����"What does he mean to you?" The question popped out before Angel could stop it. He bit his lip, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

�����Buffy looked at him gravely. "Companionship," she answered. "Someone to do things with. Someone to help me forget how lonely I am."

�����"You like him." Angel tried to be glad that she'd found someone to ease her loneliness. He was glad, he told himself firmly. He didn't want her enduring the same aching emptiness he felt when they were apart - did he? Was he that selfish?

�����"Yes, I do," she said steadily. "He's a nice guy, Angel, and I enjoy being with him." She walked back to him and went into his arms, burrowing her face into his chest so that he had to listen carefully to hear her. "But at night in my dreams, it's not Riley's arms that are holding me. It's not his name I call out in my sleep. It's not his face I want to see next to me when I wake up."

�����She fell silent. Angel rubbed his cheek caressingly over the top of her head, then took a deep breath and said, "If he makes it easier for you, I'm - glad." He felt her give a little laugh. She tilted her head up to look at him, and asked, "Are you really?" Her tone and her look both teased him, gently.

�����"No, not really," he admitted ruefully. "But I'm trying to be. I don't want you to be lonely and hurting too - " Too late, he stopped himself.

�����"The way you are?" she finished. Her hand crept up his chest to his neck and remained there, caressing. "So you haven't found anyone who helps you forget?"

�����"No," he replied honestly. "Being around Cordelia and Doyle helped some - until Doyle was killed. I've learned how to open up to people a little bit, and Cordelia and I are friends now. But I don't have anyone special, the way you have."

�����Buffy shook her head. "The way I had," she corrected. When Angel looked at her, she gave him a rather sad smile. "Did you think I could continue with Riley after tonight?" Another head shake. "I can't. It wouldn't be fair to him. I'd only be thinking of you whenever we were together."

�����Angel had enough experience with the expression on Buffy's face to know it was useless for him to argue the point - not that he particularly wanted to. She took his hand. "Come on. Let's go someplace where there's lights and people, and I can get something to eat."

�����Hand in hand, they walked through the maze of headstones and crypts back to the main entrance. Buffy spied a piece of paper hanging from an old nail sticking out of the stone wall just to one side of the driveway. She came closer. It was a piece of notebook paper folded in half with her name scrawled on the front. She opened it.

����������"Buffy,
���������������Something has come up and I won't be able to keep our date tonight. I'll
����� ����� call you tomorrow.

�����Buffy raised her eyebrows, considerably surprised at the terseness of the note. Riley must have been way hurried when he wrote it.

�����"What is it?" Angel wanted to know.

�����"It's from Riley." She passed it to him, frowning. "I hope everything's okay." Angel read the scribbled words. He shrugged. "He says he'll call you tomorrow."

�����"Yeah. I guess I'll find out what happened then." She grabbed Angel's hand. "Let's go; I'm starving."

�����Buffy gazed at her reflection in the mirror and made a rueful face. Shiny pink nose and puffy pink eyes. Although this parting from Angel, in the pre-dawn hours, hadn't been as traumatic as their first, she'd still shed a few tears as they said their goodbyes. She couldn't help it. Picking up her cosmetic sponge, she set about repairing the damage.

�����"So you agreed that you'd see each other every couple of months, and in between you'd talk on the phone?" Willow sat cross-legged on her bed, watching Buffy with troubled eyes. Buffy nodded. "What about Riley?" the redhead wanted to know.

�����Buffy sighed. "I can't go on seeing him, Will. Not now." She repeated the words she'd said to Angel the previous night. "It's not fair to him."

�����Willow made a baffled gesture . "I thought you were getting over Angel. I mean, you haven't even mentioned his name in, like, six months. And you seemed to enjoy being with Riley. I really thought you liked him."

�����Buffy applied a faint dusting of blusher and surveyed the result. Then she turned to Willow, going over to her bed and sitting down beside her friend. "I do like Riley. What's not to like? He's really nice and sweet, and he's fun to be with."

�����"You have a �but' face," Willow said drily.

�����Buffy smiled briefly. "But all I have to do is see Angel and it's like a river washing over me. Riley's a gentle little trickle in comparison. No, there is no comparison. Will, I love Angel. I've never stopped loving him. I never will."

�����Willow sighed in resignation. "You'll be careful, won't you? I mean - you know what I mean."

�����"That we're playing with fire?" Buffy said soberly. "That the consequences if we lose control of it are way beyond unthinkable? Yes, I know. And so does Angel."

�����Willow bit her lip, but before she could say anything they heard a knock at their door. Having learned her lesson the hard way, with Spike, Willow called out, "Who's there?"

�����"Riley. Is Buffy there?"

�����Willow glanced at Buffy. The slayer closed her eyes for a second, then got up and opened the door. "Hi."

�����"Hi," Riley said, making no move to enter. He took a breath. "I need to talk to you."

�����"So do I," Buffy said, then rolled her eyes. "To talk to you, I mean." She motioned him inside.

����� "Hi, Riley. �Bye, Riley." Willow grabbed up her jacket on her way to the door. "See you guys later. I've gotta get over to the library," she called over her shoulder as she sped past them.

����� Riley blinked. "Uh, yeah - later," he called after her. He turned to Buffy. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

����� Buffy turned and walked a couple of paces, then turned back to him. She took a deep breath. "Riley, I can't see you any more."

����� He looked away. In spite of everything he'd witnessed the night before, he'd still hoped that somehow - but there was no hope now. "Thank you," he said quietly.

����� "I'm sorry, I never should have - " She stopped, blinked. " �Thank you'? You're glad I'm breaking up with you?"

����� "No, I'm glad you're honest enough to do it. You see, I saw you last night in the cemetery. With him." He spoke simply, his frank blue eyes meeting hers.

����� Buffy's jaw dropped in horror. "You - saw us?" A wave of bright color ran over her cheeks. Just what exactly had he seen? Then she recalled that the most private of the intimacies she and Angel had exchanged were inside the crypt, out of casual view, and the blush subsided.

����� Riley nodded, not seeming to notice her disquiet. "I arrived almost half an hour early for our date, so I decided to go looking for you. I heard voices and decided I'd better check it out, just in case. When I got close enough to hear, I recognized your voice. Just as I was going to say something, you said his name - Angel - and I - well, I kept quiet and listened. I know I'm not the brightest person around, but it didn't take long to figure out that you still love him. And that he still loves you."

����� "I'm sorry," she told him quietly.

����� He managed a smile. "So am I." Then he took a step toward her. "Buffy, I think I know you pretty well. You're a passionate girl; how can you be happy with someone you can't even make love with? Not to mention the whole vampire thing."

����� "My happiness isn't the problem," Buffy muttered, momentarily sidetracked. When Riley looked his puzzlement at her, she shook her head, bringing herself back to the moment, and said, "I don't know, Riley. But I do know that the only times I feel completely alive are when I'm with Angel."

����� Riley stepped back. "I see." Then he sighed loudly. "No, I don't see - but I guess I have to accept it anyway." He went over to the door and opened it. "Well - goodbye. I wish you - I don't know what. Luck, I suppose. I think you're going to need it." His expression was grave, concerned.

����� "Thank you," she replied softly. "Goodbye."

����� The door closed behind him with a soft click. Buffy stood there for a moment, saddened by it all. Finally, with a heavy sigh she walked to her closet and pulled out her suitcase, laying it on top of her bed. Then she stood back and surveyed the clothes hanging in the closet. Even though she wasn't leaving until mid-afternoon, she needed to decide what to take to L.A. At the thought that she would be seeing Angel again that evening, her pulse quickened.