As Buffy walked into Hyde Park the next day, she experienced the prickling between her shoulder blades, which alerted her that she was being watched.

Angelus she thought grimly, unconsciously running her tongue over her bitten lips, a faint saltiness hitting her mouth. Aware of the faint rain that was falling, she wrapped her black sweater covered arms around her tiny body and looked down at where the faint droplets hit her sleek caramel coloured leather pants. It could turn into a downpour any second, but she didn't care. She wanted to get this done.

All last night after the disastrous meeting in the club, she had practiced the spell Willow had taught her. It needed to be performed in his presence and Buffy wondered how exactly she was going to accomplish it. Looking around subtly, she heard the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance and the slate grey sky darkened. Luscious trees swayed in the breeze, and as the rain began to pelt down it was like tiny water whips that formed puddles on the road but Buffy kept walking.

“You know Buff, we have to stop meeting like this.”

He came out of the shadows beneath the trees, like a monster in a fairy-tale, his duster flying, his beautiful face sleek and predatory in the mist. For a moment she was reminded of one of her favourite movies as a child, “Labyrinth.” He's the Goblin King…come to take me away she thought almost hysterically, and faced him dead on.

“I didn't know we were meeting,” she responded sweetly. “I'm just taking a stroll.”

“In the rain?” he mocked and she smiled.

“I like the rain.”

Angelus' mouth curled in a smile that was purely sexual, inherently animal as he advanced towards her, his black clothes contrasting sharply with the creaminess of his flesh. “Only woman I've met that does,” he purred. “Darla says it makes her hair frizzy…whatever that means.”

Sharp jealously knifed into her belly as she stared up at him. “That might actually be an improvement,” she replied cattily. “Darla could use some work.”

Reaching out with his thumb, he wiped away an errant droplet of water that clung to her eyelashes. “Jealous, Slayer?” He leaned in close and the cool skin of his face touched her cheek. “Even when I'm inside her…it's your name I want to scream.”

Jerking away from him, she flushed and threw back her head, dispelling the images his words evoked. “Listen, can we cut it out with the chit chat? Let's fight.”

He laughed softly and grabbed her arm. “Let's fuck,” he growled and kissed her, his lips ravishing hers with a possession so absolute, she was powerless to fight. Slamming her against him, his tongue stabbed into her mouth, his hands gripping her back so tightly, that it would crush a normal being. But she was the Slayer. Furiously she hit at him, but he forced her hands still, tipping her head back and running his tongue hungrily down her neck.

Buffy let out a low moan of helpless desire, feeling the rain fill her mouth as it opened, and she bent back, the rasp of his tongue against her sensitive flesh too much to bear. “Please…nooooo…” she whimpered, and he chuckled, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he sucked ferociously at the scar he had left two years before.

“You have my mark, Slayer,” he muttered, and kissed it with swollen lips. “Looks good on you.” Almost disgustedly, he flung her away and watched as she lay on the wet ground, her legs spread wide as she stared at him. “That's how I want you…” he growled. “Helpless…vulnerable…all mine…”

With one last look, he left her, and Buffy gazed back at him, realizing as soon as he was gone that she hadn't once thought of doing the spell.

~~~

That night, she walked down to Cannonbury Square, which was located in a part of Islington where some of the murders had taken place. Bar tenders that she talked to said that yes, they had seen two very beautiful women and a tall, dark man around this area, and believed they were living in the apartments owned by a Mrs. Chadwick, who ran a very upscale building with lofts and rooms for rent. Buffy thanked them and was on her way.

She had dressed in a tiny black dress, and covered it with a long glittery black coat. She wanted to distract him, and she knew that even though Angelus hated her, he still wanted her body. That had to be enough. What else did she have to fight him with?

Finding the large building, she went in and smiled at the doorman, who tipped his hat to her. Sneaking into the elevator, she realized she would have to rely on her instincts. She took the elevator up and down a couple of times, and measured where she could feel him the most. But it was as she had expected. They were staying in the penthouse. The best, as Angelus always had to have.

Exiting the elevator, she crept up the door and put her ear to it. Hearing nothing, she kicked it open with a soft bang, and walked inside. The doors opened into a spacious, sumptuous living and dining area. On the floor at her feet was a man, pale as a ghost and obviously dead. Buffy lay her fingers on his neck, felt no pulse and said a silent prayer, cursing herself for not being able to help him in time.

Sounds came from the bedroom. Moans. Feeling sick, Buffy walked down the hallway, careful to tread lightly and peeked into the half open door. Her stomach heaved at the sight before her. Angelus, Darla and Drusilla lay sprawled together among the golden pillows and blankets, their naked bodies richly creamy in the candlelight.

Buffy watched, unable to look away, as Darla smiled at her lovers, bending down over her Childe and closing her mouth over his cock. Drusilla looked on, her dark eyes bright, as Angelus teased her nipples with absent fingers. The Slayer wanted to throw up. Something was curling in her stomach, something dark and abstract that she didn't even want to recognize.

“Join us, Buff?”

She had known he knew she was there. He would have sensed her the moment she stepped off the elevator. “Slayer,” Darla hissed, her head coming up, and her mouth gleaming wetly. Buffy stared at her, black rage welling up into her throat like poison. Drusilla turned her eyes onto Buffy and sighed.

“Come to take him away again, have you? Don't take Daddy, Slayer,” she moaned, moving her body close to her Sire's. He smiled slightly, his arm tight around her, but his eyes locked with Buffy's.

“I'm not going anywhere, Dru,” he purred, stroking her back. “And I don't think Buff is either. She wants to join us.”

“No thanks,” Buffy answered, finding her voice suddenly. Darla looked her up and down, her mouth grinning malevolently.

“She's hungry for it, my baby. Why don't you just turn her? Or better yet, kill her. I'm weary of playing her silly little games.”

Angelus' head snapped around to pierce his sire with a glare. “I'll decide that, Darla. You may be my Sire, but you're still my Woman, and as such, you'll do what I say. Leave the Slayer alone.”

Darla giggled, licking her lips with glee. “You're angry. Perrrfect…” she growled and kissed him hard. Drusilla clapped her hands in delight, murmuring gibberish.

Buffy stared at the macabre love scene and for the first time in her life, didn't know what to do. Should she run? Yes, that was what she had to do, she realized. Nothing could be solved from just standing here and she knew that she couldn't take them all on. Darla was a very old vampire, extremely powerful, and Drusilla, although insane, was wily. And Angel…she didn't want to kill him. God she thought sickly, her insides wilting as she realized how twisted she was. I should want to get rid of him…I wish I wanted him gone…I wish I did…

But in her heart, in her mind's eye, she didn't see the demon he was. She saw Angel. The sweet man. The brave warrior who was fighting for amends, for redemption. Who she could hear screaming, longing to be freed from this monster. She had to save him. She had to get Angel back. But right now she knew she could do nothing.

Turning on her heel, she sprinted for the door, but felt a hand on her arm before she reached it. She hadn't forgotten how fast he was, but had hoped that the impediment of covers and two naked vampires would deter him. It hadn't.

He pulled her back against his naked body, and her stomach bottomed out as she felt his erection hard and powerful against her lower back. When it was like this, it was so difficult to separate. This could be Angel. Since she couldn't see the cold glint to his eyes, the slight sneer to his lips, it could be Angel holding her so close. Buffy felt weak in the knees and tried to push away from him.

Angelus chuckled softly and stroked one hand down her front, lightly teasing her breasts for a moment. “You sought me out, Slayer. Must be desperate. I mean, it really is kind of pathetic…all this time and you still can't kill me…”

Making an incoherent sound of fury, she felt him dip his fingers into the opening of the coat and travel down her belly to her thighs. Spreading her legs with his hands, he pressed a finger to her center, nipping at her ear. “You're wet…”

“No.” It was said forcefully, but it was a lie. Buffy groaned with frustration, at not being able to over power him. At not wanting to. “What game are you playing?” she asked him coolly.

“Our game,” he purred, his fingers sliding inside her. She arched her back only slightly, involuntarily and moaned when they shoved in deeper and harder. “Our game. Cat and mouse. Tiger and wild deer. Vampire and Slayer.” He laughed as she shivered with an indescribable terror. Moving his fingers faster he growled against her ear, felt her slick wetness drip over his fingers. “You know what I wonder though?” he asked in an almost conversational tone. “Who's the one really being hunted?”

Buffy groaned in helpless desire as he slammed his fingers into her hot wetness over and over, until she contracted around him in shudders so powerful, her back arched and her head was thrown back. Flushed and panting, she collapsed against him. “Well, Buff, that was fun, but I must rejoin my women…” he said quietly, kissing her neck. “You understand.”

Left shaking, and horrified at herself, Buffy stared after him, and clapped a hand over her mouth. What have I done? Turning, she opened the door in a blind panic and ran from the penthouse, the only sound in the quiet elevator, her wrenching sobs.

Angel her heart screamed. I need you. Please, help me

She waited, waited in vain, hoping for a whisper, a sign, a memory that would shimmer in the air and remind her of his unfailing support, his love.

But all there was in the tiny space was silence.

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