Would you die, for the one you love
Hold me in your arms, tonight
I can be your hero, baby
I can kiss away the pain
I will stand by you, forever
You can take my breath away

“Hero” Enrique Iglesias


The night air is cold and wintry on my skin. Up in the sky I can see the clouds black and blue, swollen with snow. The tunnel came right into the camp. I walk silently, measuring my steps carefully. Every so often I see a demon patrolling, but I am quick to duck out of sight and keep to the shadows. The oxygen is thick, but I can smell Angel faintly- and his presence thrums beneath the surface of my flesh, getting stronger as I get closer.

Standing against one of the buildings, I scan the grounds, looking for the building where Bronwen said was. She mentioned a red flag. I don't see it, so I do a quick weapons check, making sure I have the requisite stake tucked into my black boot, the blaster strapped to my back and the knife inside my belt.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my back. I breathe out in a frustrated rush. “Spike, didn't I tell you not to follow me?”

He sighs. “What was I supposed to do? Let you take the hero road to your death again? No, thanks blondie.”

“I am handling this,” I snarl, turning and facing him. His platinum hair glints in the faint starlight, which peeks out from behind the clouds. “I don't need you here. I don't want you here. Got that?”

“I'm tryin' to help, Slayer,” he drawls. “You got *that*?”

“I really don't have to get anything,” I remind him. “I'm the boss around here, remember?”

“Who died and made you God?” he asks casually.

“No one made me God. But someone made me the Slayer. I give the orders.” I grip his arm with my fierce strength and whisper, “So, get. Gone. I'm busy- and I don't want to have to worry about you getting dusted.”

“Why would ya worry?” he growls, leaning close so his mouth is against my ear. “It's just Spike, honey. You don't care about him.”

A wave of fury sweeps over me. Pushing him against the wall, I say, “You're right. I don't. Get staked. What in the fuck do I care?”

“I think you care just a little, come to think of it,” he laughs low. His fingers touch my forehead, where a few wayward curls of hair have come loose from the tight ponytail I keep it in. Panting slightly, I flinch away from his caress and look into his eyes. They are diamond bright with desire. His pupils dilate as he creeps closer and when his lips are a hairbreadth from mine, he tugs me between his legs. “Want me… Slayer?”

I feel him, hard against my lower belly and the heat building in my chest flushes my cheeks. I don't speak for a moment. All I can do is try and breathe. “Maybe,” I say quietly, and his mouth curves as it crushes mine. He smiles as he kisses me. Laughs, a little. Blood seeps past my tongue and down my throat from where his teeth pierce the delicate skin of my lips. I choke on the copper and the smell of sweat and sex. Breaking away from Spike as fast as he caught me, I whisper, “Maybe. But I love Angel.” My arms break his hold as I step away and wipe my lips. “I love Angel. And I have to find him. I'm going alone. If you really want to help, you'll patrol around the entrance to the cave, making sure no one can bar our escape.”

He looks at me for a moment, not saying a word, and then nods. “Fine. I'll see you on your way out.”

I wipe the blood of my lips again and nod. “Okay.” Edging along the side of the building, I scan the tops, looking for the flag. Suddenly I see it. A crimson splash against the white, white snow. Outside the door are two vampiric guards, chatting with each other. I hear their voices clearly in the otherwise silent night.

I pull out my stake, holding it behind my back as I walk the short distance to where they stand, in front of the door.

“Ooh a party- is this for me?” I chirp and they whirl, gaping at me with open mouths. “Cause really guys,” I continue, “you shouldn't have.”

I notice the huge walkie-talkies at their waists and realize I have to act fast. Striding towards them, with two kicks I have busted both machines. The fight begins. They're fast, I'll give them that. But I'm faster. Right hook. Punch to the gut. Somersault. Back flip. Left hook to the jaw. I smash their heads together and they fall to my feet as I whip out the stake and slam it through both their hearts (the penetrating wound…). Picking up the spill of keys left on the wintry earth, I look around to make sure no one has seen the fight and open the door.

I step into a room that's dark. It smells of cold, of damp. Musty earth. My eyes quickly adjust to the blackness and I realize I'm walking down a long hallway with cells lining each side. At the very end of the building a small window offers a breath of moonlight. Most cells are empty, but in some I can see pacing demons, some growling, others weak from obvious lack of food. Dirt crawls up the walls, there's no heat- in short, it's Hell, with walls, floor and a ceiling.

I realize this is where they keep their traitors. It's like Hitler and his meat hooks. Swallowing back the bile that creeps up my throat, I peer into the cells, walking faster and faster when I don't see him. Did I get the wrong one? Did Bronwen mistakenly tell me---

That's when I see him. Angel. Sitting in one corner, head in his hands, knees to chest. His cell is grey, small, barren. I comprehend him, fully in that moment and can barely even understand the overwhelming urge I have to fall to my knees and thank God he's alive.

“Angel?” My voice sounds far away, even to my own ears.

He looks up, slowly. So slowly. Our eyes lock, green with brown and I give a great, gasping sob, my hands clutching the bars of the cell as he rushes forward, sliding his arms through the gaps, as best he can and holding me. The steel presses into my stomach and chest but I don't care. I don't care. He's here and he's alive – well, sort of- and that's all that matters in the world.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he whispers as I step up onto the lower rail and our lips meet in a desperate kiss. “I didn't think you were real for a moment.”

“I told you I'd come for you, you idiot,” I murmur, laughing, trying to kiss him more and ending up knocking my lips and chin against the bars.

He smiles slightly, his hands gripping my back tightly. “I thought it was just another dream.”

“I would never choose this locale, baby.”

His nose nuzzles mine and he reaches through to rub my already bruised lip. “I should have known better…” he pauses and then says, “So what are we doing? Someone has a plan, I assume?”

“Of course,” I reply airily, over the moon to have him back where he belongs, in my arms. “I find some way to break you out, we skip merrily off to the tunnel, walk back to the safe house and spend the entire night in bed. And maybe all of tomorrow too.”

He arches a brow. “So you've heard of vampire stamina?”

I giggle. “I know about it, yes.”

He smiles, kissing me again. “Well, you will soon, I promise. But first… I don't know how we're going to do this.”

“I'll just…” I pause, testing the bars, “try and stretch them. I'm sure I can—“

“They're protected,” he cuts me off. “By charms- against breakage. I don't know the spell to reverse it.”

“Damnit,” I mutter. “Where's Harry when you need him?”

“Who?” he questions.

“Oh- a wizard I know. Well… I know *of* him. Giles met him and his own brand of the Scoobies in England.”

“You mean Harry Potter?” Angel inquires incredulously and I nod.

“Yeah, so?”

“Nothing. Just- you know, he's famous. The Boy Who Lived and all that. I heard he's married to one of his Hogwarts classmates, isn't he? She's supposed to be very intelligent--”

“Yeah,” I reply, still trying to bend the bars. “Hermione. I saw their wedding picture. Very sweet. He seems just like a regular guy—oh wait! Keys! I have the guard's keys…”

Angel sighs, exasperated. “And you didn't remember that before?”

I shoot him a withering glance. “In between dusting two demons, saving your ass and having a mushy reunion, it slipped my mind.”

He chuckles. “Sorry. Did you get it?”

I slip the correct key in the lock, hearing the click. The cell door opens and Angel gathers me up in his embrace. I snuggle for a quick moment against his chest, burying my face in his neck. “I missed you,” I whisper, tears swelling in my eyes.

He strokes my hair. “I love you.”

“We should get out of here.”

“No arguments here,” he agrees, tipping my chin up and kissing me softly, his finger running down my face tenderly before he releases me.

Taking my hand, we run together down the long hallway, keeping as quiet as possible. He stumbles a little, and suddenly I notice how pale he is. “You're weak,” I murmur under my breath, furious at myself for not seeing it before.

“I haven't had much to eat since I got here,” he reminds me, and trips again. I hold his arm, whispering;

“We'll be fine. Spike's guarding the entrance to the tunnel. If he didn't screw up, all we need to do is get there and we're home free.”

I open the door, step outside and gawk. Twenty vampires stand in a half-moon around the door. None of them look happy.

“Oh, shit,” Angel mutters.

“My expletive exactly,” I say. “Just… please stay out of this. You're in no condition to fight.”

“I'm *not* letting you go alone,” he growls, and I see that he's in full gameface.

“All right then,” I sigh. “Let the really annoying and familiar games begin.”

Fists cocked, we step into the fray. Vampires come at me from all sides. My head hurts. A gash above my eye bleeds into my vision. Sweat drips from my skin, staining my clothes. Fangs, everywhere. My heart pumps fast. Backflip, punch, right hook, stake. Dust against my teeth, in my mouth. I choke, whirling on another and using the stake. Lop. Off comes another's head. God, my ribs are aching. Kick. Where's Angel? There he is, safe. Good. Dust. Blood sprays across my face. Was that a human? Don't know, can't care. Hair in my eyes. Red moon. So much snow. Punch, kick, flip, dust. Is it almost over? My arms throb. More dust. Must be the last one. I whirl, ready to stake and—

Angel grabs me, sagging into my arms. “It's over,” he murmurs against my sweat-soaked hair, dropping a weary kiss onto my head. “We should get moving.”

Exhausted, I limp with him across the camp, keeping close to the shadows, knowing that the vampires thought they'd be able to take care of us, but that, just in case, there will be special demons coming. The kind that probably wouldn't fail. Angel's non-necessary breathing is laboured, and his face is so milky that if it wasn't for his dark hair and clothes, he'd melt into the landscape.

I see Spike, who motions us forward with a cigarette dangling from between his lips. “You had time to *smoke*?” I hiss. “You were *supposed* to be watching for demons!”

He shoots me a glare as he ushers us into the tunnel. “I *was* watching, blondie. But I got a mite peckish, is all.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” I mutter, looping my arm around Angel's waist, helping him along.

He glances at both of us warily. “I think you two have been spending too much time together.”

“You have no idea,” I say, looking up at him. “How soon do you want to head back to London, baby?”


His brow furrows for a moment. “I guess tomorrow. I need some time to rest, and I'm sure so does everyone else. Do you know what Darla and Bronwen want to do?”

“No,” I snap, hearing the name Darla sending a little wave of anger through my chest, and up into my throat. I breathe out, seeing the little puffs my breath makes in the freezing air. “But I'll be sure to ask them.”

“You sound rather bitchy for a girl who's been reunited with her long lost love, Slayer,” Spike drawls. “Was it something I said?”

“Quiet,” Angel snarls, turning on him. “If you know what's good for you, boy, you won't speak to her in that tone of voice.”

“Heaven Forbid I should talk to, or even fuck your sweet little Buffy,” Spike murmurs and Angel whirls around so fast he almost knocks me over. His fist grips Spike's collar in a lightening fast movement.

“*What* did you say?”

Spike just looks at him. “What did I say? Well, I can't remember now.”

“Don't fuck with me, Spike,” Angel growls.

“Right, not anymore. You're all 'man with a soul and a path to redemption and—“

“Spike,” I break in. “Angel. Must I treat you both for testosterone poisoning?” I wince as I remember another time when I uttered words close to those. “Demons could be behind us. One more word and I put you both in the hospital.”

They both look at me, surprised, and then both shrug, following me down the tunnel, to where Bronwen and the rest wait at the fork. Darla takes one look at Angel and hurls herself into his arms. Bronwen smiles, rather sedately, but I saw the fear in her eyes and know she cares more than she lets on. Everyone claps and cheers a little and I stare at Darla and Angel in astonishment, the burning jealousy behind my eyes threatening to explode.

I tug on his arm and mutter, “Still *my* boyfriend, Darla.”

She laughs softly and keeps a hold of him. “Still *his* sire, Buffy.”

Angel looks down at us and then mutters, “Still *my* arm, ladies.”

I don't let go, but I do smile up at him and murmur, “It might be yours, but you're also mine- so I you don't mind if I hang on for a little while?”

“Don't mind at all,” he answers, leaning down to kiss my lips gently.

~~~

When we get back to my room at the safe house, I close the door, immediately filling the tub with hot water and adding some rose oil that someone obviously left for us. Steam wafts in the air, and I slide out of my clothes, bending over to test the water's heat.

The door opens and I smile.

“I like the way you welcome me back,” he says softly, and I turn, walking over to him and watching his eyes go dark with desire.

“Nicer things are to come,” I wink, and pull up his shirt, tossing it on the bed. I quickly kneel to undo his pants and let them fall around his ankles, along with his boxers. He tugs off his boots and socks, letting me lead him over to the bath.

I step in, sitting down. He gets in after me, his head resting against my breasts. I thank God it's a huge tub, as I'm reminded again of how tall he is. My hands slosh the water over his chest, kissing the top of his head at intervals.

“Mmm…” he murmurs. “It's so nice and hot.”

“I know you love that,” I whisper tenderly, and reach for the soap, lathering his hair and skin, and pouring cups of the scented water over his head and body to cleanse it fully. Smoothing my palms over his flat, hard belly, I giggle slightly, flushing. “Maybe you're getting a little too excited.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks huskily.

“No-o—“ I answer shakily, and he sits up, getting out and sliding his hands under my arms to lift me out.

Dripping with water, we kiss desperately, falling back on the bed in our desire to be close to each other. His chest crushes my breasts as he presses himself against me, grinding his pelvis against mine. I groan, my head falling back as his mouth burns a fiery path down my throat, ending up at my nipples.

“You smell like roses…” he moans into my flesh, his tongue as smooth as butter on my breasts.

“I want to smell like you,” I whimper, panting as his fingers grip my legs, spreading them wide apart. “I want you… inside me…”


His mouth gasps wide as he slams into my wet center, the thick heat of him filling me to the fullest and making me scream. He surges against me, angling down, going deeper and deeper as I rake his back with my nails, his name- “Angel, Angel, Angelllllll…” tearing out from between my lips again and again.

All I see is the white ceiling blurring as he kisses me, his mouth drowning over mine. I feel the flood of him in my womb as it contracts around him in convulsive shudders.

“Ahhhh… Buffy….” He chokes out, and I touch his lips with my fingers, watching his mouth close over them as he sucks ravenously, thrusting one final time deep inside me.

He collapses next to me, drenched in sweat and smiling ever so slightly. “Marry me?” he asks quietly.

I open my eyes, gaping at him. “What?”

“I realize it's not the most romantic place to ask but—“

“You already asked me,” I remind him.

“I wanted to—dreams are so transient. I wanted to make it official. Will you marry me, Buffy? When we get out of this?”

I look at him, grinning and shaking my head, tears mingling with the sweat on my face. Curling myself under the comforting weight of his arm, I smile and kiss his mouth. “Of course I will, you dolt. Am I going to say no to that?”

“Men never know what women will say,” he informs me, laughing and holding me close. “I don't have an engagement ring.”

“Doesn't matter,” I murmur drowsily, already on the edge of sleep. “We'll get through this and soon there'll be malls again.”

“Yes, that will be the high point,” he teases, his eyes closing as well.

We sleep, and for that night at least- there are no dreams.

But I know- the biggest battles are yet to come.

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