Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Angel, Giles or anyone else I mention in this story. They belong to Go--er, uh, I mean Joss Whedon. I ain't makin' no money, so please don't sue. However, feedback is definitely okay.

A loud THUNK punctuated the air as the stick-like dummy was given a third, heavier blow. Buffy Summers was making a very loud, very violent attempt to work out her anger from the heated discussion that she was having. With herself.

*I am not in love with him,* she thought harshly. *He's a vampire. I slay vampires. It's my job--hence, "Slayer."*

*You know you're lying to yourself,* another part of her mind spoke up. *You fell head-over-heels for him the first moment you laid eyes on his gorgeous face. After you threw him on the ground, that is.*

*Did not.*

*Did too.*

*Did not times infinity!*

*Come on, you were crazy about him until you found out about the vampire thing. And why should that matter? He's a nice vampire--he's reformed: he hasn't killed anyone in eight decades. Cryptic as he is, you do love him.* Somehow, it was more like two people arguing with each other than one mind very divided over a subject.

Buffy sighed audibly and then delivered a staggering blow that pretty well destroyed the makeshift dummy's "arm." Sighing again, she backed away from the deformed target, sat down, and tore into the bottled water she had waiting on a nearby library table.

Giles had insisted that she stay in the library all afternoon for some practice. He'd had to leave several minutes ago, but made her promise to get some more training in while he was gone. He was startled when she didn't give him much trouble, but Buffy knew there were some issues she had to work out with herself.

*But he's undead--as in not of the living. There couldn't be too much of a relationship between me and a dead guy,* Buffy took a large gulp of her water as this thought lanced across her brain.

*Honey, you're fooling yourself. And you didn't deny that you love him--you can't, because you love him with every part of your being.*

Memories came, unbidden, to her mind. ~"Don't worry, I don't bite."~

She smiled ruefully, *oh, yes you do, Angel. But I don't think you'd bite me.*

~"…All I can ever think about is how badly I want to kiss you."~

"Ooohh, you don't know how much I'd pay for a kiss from you right now--" Buffy muttered softly. "Did *I* just say that?"

*See what I mean?* That annoyingly contradictive part of her mind asked triumphantly.

*Alright, alright--I do love Angel. A lot.*

*Ha. So, you know what to do.* When Buffy hesitated, *Now, girl.*

With a private smile, Buffy grabbed a pencil from Giles' desk and jotted down a brief apologetic note to him, saying that she had gotten some practice, but she had to be somewhere right away.

Yawning--a habit he'd picked up when he used to pretend he was human in order to torture his victims--Angel tossed aside his red satin covers and pulled himself out of bed. There were some afternoons that he thought getting out of bed just wasn't worth it. What did he have to look forward to, anyway? Drinking "breakfast"? Lurking and brooding? Slaying a few shocked-that-one-of-their-own-would-try-to-kill-them demons? Following the local Slayer as she slew a few of the same? Gee, what a wonderful unlife to be living.

Sighing and attempting to get himself out of his depressed, self-loathing mood, Angel started to remake his bed. He wasn't exactly a messy sleeper--vampire's rarely were--but dragging himself out of bed everyday, an hour our so before evening, always resulted in a very skewed-looking, messy bed.

As he was finishing up and reaching for some clothes, Angel heard a knock at his door. He blinked, surprised. *Who would be coming at this hour? It can't be a vamp, the sun hasn't set yet…* He sighed. *With my luck, it's probably some cheesy salesman who won't get the hint if I start growling…*

"Just a minute," he called out to the mysterious visitor. Switching his slept-in robe for the pants he'd been reaching for, Angel reluctantly opened his door--visions of overly-delighted-to-see-him smiles and slicked-back hair dancing through his head.

"Angel?" was all he heard before a yellowish blur came rushing into his arms, lips planted firmly on his own. For a shocked moment Angel didn't know what to do. Eventually, he pulled his "attacker" off him--no easy task--and took a look at who it was.

"Buffy? What…?" Angel stuttered, confused.

Buffy put a finger over the vampire's lips.

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'shut up and kiss me?'" And she then proceeded to make quite sure that any protests Angel might have had flew right out of his mind.

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