The Penny Series

Ficlet 19) Penny Whistle
Summary: What? You're evil? Nooo! I don't believe it.

mo álainn chroí = my beautiful heart

Buffy leaned against him, her head tilted over the brochure she was reading. About a half dozen more were scattered around them as she scoured the glossy pictures and words trying to get her to agree that their college was what was best for her. He knew this was her big chance to leave bue see seemed to be using the excuse to sit in his lap and ask his opinion on one or the other.

Idly he ran his palms over her arms as the evening wore on. Buffy dropped the brochure and relaxed back against him a soft sigh escaping her parted lips. The warm scent that is hers beckoned him and he dropped a kiss against her neck, resting his lips against the beating pulse beneath. A shiver broke over her, starting from where his lips were pressed against her warm supple neck traveling down her spine to end where her toes curled against his thigh.

“Hmm,” she moaned, arching her head away as he nibbled there.

“What do you think?” he asked, continuing to bite her lovingly. “It’s been two weeks since you got your scores back. Have any idea on where you might want to go?”

Buffy shook her head, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips. “Why am I brothering to look? I’m the slayer I have no life.”

“Don’t say that,” he admonished gently, giving her a light squeeze before gathering her pulse between his lips and sucking.

“Even if I got a 1600 I’d still be in Sunnydale. Why? The hellmouth. Couldn’t the hellmouth have been in New York City? At least then I’d have some choices for college.”

He suckled harder, before reluctantly releasing the purpling flesh. “What about Faith?”

“She is a fly by the seat of her pants kinda gal. She does her duty, and does it with a passion. But I much rather be the one in the driver’s seat when it comes to apocalypses.”

“You’re going to have a hickey,” he murmured, bending his head to lightly pass his lips over her bruised flesh.

Buffy giggled. “Oh God. That’s going to be original. I’ll be sure to tell Giles I got a hickey from a vampire.”

“He’ll be thrilled,” he deadpanned. “How’s he taking the news that I’m back? I’ve tried to avoid the library, but it’s hard since you’re there and I want to be with you.”

“What am I going to do?” Buffy wailed, turning her face into his neck and breathing in deeply. “I have no idea what I want to be, how in the world am I to know where I want to go if I don’t know what I want?”

He stayed silent, unsure on how to answer that. Finally though, he broke the lingering silence to ask. “Are you looking for a day job or a night job?”

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, turning in his embrace to look up at him.

“Well there’s jobs you can do that can help you in your slaying. Like a mortician, then you can stake the possible newbies and hold closed caskets for them.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Eww. To learn to be an embalmer? Gross.”

He laughed, hugging her close, afraid to let the easy mood break in case he started to cry. Buffy would leave for college, whether they wanted it or not. She’d go get a degree and become great at what she wanted to do. And she might not want him to tag along behind her. It was a possibility too frightening for him to contemplate. His heart ached when she wasn’t around and leapt joyfully when she was.

Fuck her…

He looked up startled. What was that? He glanced down at Buffy and caught her looking at him strangely.

“You jumped, is something wrong?”

“I thought I heard something…” he replied evasively, his eyes darting around the room trying to figure out where the voice had come from.

Fuck her.

There it was again, more commanding now. He looked up sharply, a frown marring his brow. It was most definitely a voice.

“Did you hear that?” he asked quietly, lifting Buffy off of his lap as he scooted to the edge of the couch.

She was openly frowning at him now, her expression miffed at his behavior. “Hear what?” Buffy groused grumpily from her new perch on the sofa.

“There’s this voice,” he told her exasperated. “Maybe I’m picking up on it because of my vampiric hearing.”

“Bull.” Buffy snapped. “I’m the slayer. I’ve got just as good of hearing as you do, now why are you acting funny? What voice? What is it saying?”

“You’re mad,” he said taken aback.

Buffy started to gather her brochures, stuffing them unceremoniously into her backpack. He watched for a moment, before stilling her angry movements by grabbing her wrist gently and prying the college pamphlet from her fingers.

“Don’t be mad, I love you,” he whispered, leaning over her. He smirked into her soft parted lips and slipped his tongue inside. Buffy mewled, her arms encircling his neck pulling him down so that his weight crushed her beneath him. A low groan rumbled through him as he rocked his hips into the soft cradle of her thighs his semi hard erection springing rampant and ready by the moist heat of her core pressing against him through the layers of their clothes.

“An-gel,” Buffy moaned, her voice hitching in the middle.

She wants you…

He froze and she immediately stilled beneath him. Again, he looked up and around the room a frustrated snarl leaving his curled lips as he forced himself away from her. “Where the fuck are you?” he growled to the room at large, his fists balling as he instinctively moved in front of Buffy.

“Do you want me to leave?” Buffy asked, her hand trailing down his shoulder blade to the base of his spine before dropping away as she stood up and walked around him.

“Of course not… it’s just this voice I keep hearing.” He growled, his eyes yellowing forcing the brown out in swirls.

“You should get some rest,” Buffy murmured almost to herself as she took his arm and wrapped it around her waist before slipping her arm around his hips and gently steering him from the room.

He cast another look around as she guided him out. “I’m not making it up.” He pouted.

“I believe you are more tired than you think and it’s putting your brain into overdrive.” Buffy consoled, squeezing his hip as they started up the stairs.

“You don’t believe me,” he accused, his mind more focused on the fact that her arm could barely span the breadth of his hips… just like her hand hadn’t been able to close fully around… his feet stumbled on the stairs and it took all of Buffy’s supernatural strength to keep them upright.

“See tired,” Buffy said triumphant, pushing him up the stairs. “Now come on sleepy head it’s time to tuck you in.”

A knowing smile traced his lips causing her to blush madly and shake her head at him. “Now stop that Angel. I meant for you to get some Zs.”

“Do I get a goodnight kiss?” he asked hopefully, his eyes sparkling at her.

She shook her head at him and leaned over to give him a chaste peck on the lips and backing hurriedly away.

“Too chaste,” he admonished, his hands curling into her soft golden hair and tugging her closer.

This time she parted her lips and sensually licked along the seams of his like they were sugar coated, parting them easily but she pulled away before he could return the favor.

“Too quick,” he said with a satisfied smile as he pulled her down once more and swirled his tongue inside her mouth, languidly lingering over the inside of her bottom lip, catching the offending pout and kissing it away.

“Just right,” he quipped.

“Hmm,” Buffy moaned quietly as she pulled away from the kiss to peck him lightly on the nose and each eyelid before leaving him alone on the bed. “Rest, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

He sat up in bed quickly, surprise etched onto his face as he looked at her intensely. “Day after tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Yes, I’m shopping for your present. You are not allowed to follow me cause then I’d have to take the gift back. Santa is like that you know.”

“A gift?”

“And a none too hidden threat to get me one too.” Buffy added with a tiny smile.

“I’ve given you a gift I don’t think I can top. What do you want?” he asked settling back against the pillows.

“That’s cheating. I want you to find me something that reminds you of me. It has to be special. I’m going to go now okay?” Buffy said as she walked away from the bed, backing up to the doorway. “Goodnight,” she whispered before disappearing.

Now that we’re alone…

Pissed, he growled. “Show yourself!”

Gladly, my dark Angel.

Shadows in the room rippled and parted leaving a ghostly figure before him. Donned in a joyless evil smirk, the man before him sported two punctures on his neck, wearing merchant outfittings from the late 18th century, in his hands he held a girl’s broken dolly.

He licked his lips, eye darting around the room. “Who are you?” he asked fearfully.

Do you not recognize me? I’m the stuff of nightmares.

“Porter?” he whispered, scooting off the edge of the bed.

Porter? Hardly. Just one of the many nameless faces you killed. Just one of the thousand voices you silenced. You are a monster unworthy of living.

“Why are you here?”

No use looking around for escape. I can follow you anywhere.

The man melted into the little girl whom the dolly belonged too. She skipped around the room singing sinisterly her dolly’s head hitting the floor with every bound. A pink pinafore crowned by red ringlets, her pale eyes narrowed when she looked at him.

You are a very bad man.

“I am hardly a man,” he muttered darkly, edging around the perimeter of the room.

Her saccharine voice floated to him menacingly.

You’re hardly capable of being near her without giving her pain.

A woman wearing a seedy gown and high strung pearls blossomed from the pinafore girl. Her husky voice taunted.

You’re only good for pain.

A maid curled around the last image, leaving her standing there. Mockingly she clapped her hands together and batted her lashes.

I’m only trying to show you who you are dearest Angelus. No be quiet. Don’t make a sound.

“Stop!” he commanded, his order wavering with uncertainty.

You will sully her as you’ve sullied everything else that you’ve ever touched. You’re a plague that leeches all that is good around from its surroundings.

The maid disappeared to become Buffy. Dear sweet Buffy who blinked down at him with a curious expression on her face.

Tormented and confused, he croaked woefully. “Buffy?”

You will be my death. My sweet dark death. My Angel of Vice.

“You evil bitch!” he growled, lunging at the thing that wore his beloved’s face, but she vanished the moment his hands tried to grab her.

You want me Angel. Admit it. You want to make love to me, your soul be damned and it is damned. Eternally. Free your soul my dark Angel. Be with me as we are meant to be together.

“No! No. No. No. No. NO!” he murmured incessantly, covering his ears and closing his eyes to block out this Buffy. Not his Buffy. Not his Buffy. Doesn’t want to hurt her. Won’t hurt her.

You will and you have. Let me show you who you are darkest Angel.

He shook his head in denial. “No. No. No.”

Yes. Yes you are evil. You are sinful. You are weak. You are death incarnate.

“I’m not!” he protested feebly.

Can’t you smell my desire? I want you. I need you. I’m yours, find me, take me, loose yourself in me.

“I can’t,” he croaked, his voice shaking as he huddled against the wall.

You always were a fool. Buffy’s voice growled masculine, as she merged into his father. Weak and useless. Nobody needs you. They all want you dead. You’re worthless and that isn’t surprising. Eternal life hasn’t done much to change you.

Hurt, he raised his head and stared at his father’s face. “I am different. I’m not the Liam you knew.”

Prove it.

“Leave me alone.”

Let me show you who you are son. Look into a mirror… you’re nothing of substance. Look into her eyes and you will find disgust and hatred.

“How would you know?” he shouted.

His father fell away into the skipping little girl.

I have a way of knowing these things. You’re only as good as your fangs.

“I’m going to ignore you now. You can’t hurt me.”

Want to bet? Buffy asked, before a myriad of faces danced before him, each shouting another accusation at him and he felt bile rise in his throat. Hours passed, moon to sun to moon, and the images had yet to repeat themselves… until finally Buffy stood before him… You want to take me. Thrust hard into my warmth and steal it with your kiss.

“No!” he yelled mindlessly, scrabbling awkwardly along the wall until he backed out the door. On shaky legs he ran and ran hard, down the flight of stairs only to run into another image.

Angel my boy! Did you honestly think you’d be rid of me this easily? I still have things to teach you, to show about you, my vicious Angel. My dark Angel, bringer of death.

Wordlessly he shook his head and edged away from Darla. Steadfastly he walked through the mansion and left it thinking he’d be free of the ghosts. He wasn’t they followed him, telling him explicitly how he had killed them and tortured them and loved it. An infant bawled at his feet, showing little fangs and he got sick. Stomach heaving, he fell to his knees and retched in the grass shaking visibly.

“Stop,” he begged.

Not until you know who you are and what you want. You are Angelus. Take her. Be free and happy and this torturous existence will cease and you can joyfully seek out new pleasures in eternal life.

The look in his eyes was empty and wide as he pushed himself to his feet and rushed into town on wobbly legs. His gaze darted everywhere frantically searching for a release from the torment.

Yo! Deadboy!

Suddenly Xander was before him and he knew rage. It was the boy! The boy was doing this, causing him pain and grief. He had not killed him as he had thought. He would kill him and then the images would stop.

You can’t kill me Angelus. I am in a better place, a place you will never be allowed to enter. You’re unclean. Unworthy of her affections. Undeserving of second chances, hell awaits you, the paradise of her arms never to be yours unless you take her NOW!

“Angel?” her voice called to him.

Wearily he looked up and saw her through Xander’s form, her hazel eyes starring at him worried. “Buffy?” he asked pitifully.

“Angel why are you out? I told you not to search for me! I’m buying you your Christmas gift!”

She got herself something too--- ask her to model it.

His eyes snapped to focus behind Buffy and he saw her ghostly form quirking an eyebrow at him. Buffy waved her hand in front of him, drawing his attention back to her.

“Angel?”

“There!” he said, pointing. “Do you see it?”

She looked behind her and back at him. “See what?”

“You don’t,” his voice said plaintively, begging to her try again and say she did.

She wants you. Kiss her. Rip her clothes off. Fuck her. The voice of his father called to him.

Stumbling he retreated, desperate to get away from her. He wouldn’t harm her. He wouldn’t!

“Angel!”

“I have to go,” he stuttered, turning and running.

“Wait Angel!” Buffy cried and gave chase to him for a few yards before slowing and finally stopping.

Aww, poor wittle Angel is all scared.

He glanced up and Xander stood smirking at him in victory.

“I killed you because you were trying to hurt her. You have no right to haunt me!”

Don’t I? How do you figure that? You’re a monster and deserve to die. Your only savior, your only redeemer is her and yet you run from her.

He stared at the floor, anywhere but at the face of the new man. He remembered him owing a debt to Angelus and on Christmas eve, the day before the man’s wedding he had killed him in cold blood.

Tis the season... Why don’t you kill? Shed a little more blood on this holiday? Why not- her blood?

“Never,” he choked stumbling up the drive to his mansion.

Had to get inside. Away from her… away from-

Who you are? Darla asked patronizingly. Can you ever truly escape that? I mean really you could run to the end of the earth, but there’d you be at the end of the earth. Hardly a way to get rid of yourself. Besides I have yet to show you who you are.

Frightened, bounding up the stairs he denied what his sire said. “I am not Angelus! I am not-”

Sleep. Darla commanded waving her hand in front of him.

Unconsciousness sucked at his lids, but he fought to keep them open. Mustn’t sleep. Mustn’t close eyes. He fell onto the floor, still fighting sleep, desperately trying to pry his eyes open… the fight was lost when he collapsed on the bed too tired to fight the calling of the empty darkness and its nightmares.

*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*

He smiled at her. She had just woken up from sleep and sat there with the coverlet bunched up around her waist. Buffy yawned, and even that was seductive because he could imagine that her mused hair was the result of him winding his fingers through it and that she was tired from being sated frequently that night.

His gaze swept down to the rise of her breasts and hardened at the gaping garment. The buttons undone almost to her navel, granting him views of her darkened areoles as she moved restlessly on the bed.

Slowly he stalked towards her, eyes alight with a wicked gleam. Carefully he sat at the edge of the bed, and placed his arms on either side of her. He leaned in, the predator here despite her slayer status. She would scream his name as she came her muscles clamping him tighter within her, trapping him willingly inside her.

Her eyes widened, darkening in lust to a smoldering shade of emerald green. Her lips parted in a small breathy oh, as he told her with his eyes that he was about to make love to her. He could smell how wet she was for him, and he smirked down at her with masculine satisfaction before dipping his head to capture those parted lips.

Buffy sighed, arching into him, the edges of her silky top brushing against his bare chest causing him to shiver. She whimpered in response, a thready needy sound that had his cock jumping to attention. Instinctively he knew she wanted to touch him and brought his hands up to block her touch. A touch that would surely be the undoing of him. Fluidly their hands went up and over their heads before he gained control of the motion and stilled it as it reached their sides, using the motion itself to lower them to the covers.

He kissed her harder, his lips running demandingly along hers, his tongue sng eng entrance into her hot mouth. His hips ground into hers, the evidence of his desire grazing against her bare thigh. When she tried to squirm her hands free, he pressed them into the sheets with a gentle strength. Head bent, he left her lips, now swollen with his kisses. In his wake a trail of sizzling heat shimmered under her skin as he drifted down to her neck.

Sweet flutters of her beating heart, throbbed against his parted mouth. He licked the trapped heartbeat; her breathy sigh whispered in the air at lighlight cool touch. Buffy arched against him, bringing their bodies together intimately in one long line starting from where his lips touched her pounding pulse to their entwined feet. Every breath she panted rubbed their bellies together deliciously--- he growled softly in response to the needy tone in her voice as she whispered his name.

“Angel… Angel please,” Buffy whined, struggling against his hold on her finally using most of her slayer strength.

Reluctantly he let her hands go, unwilling to make it an issue tonight. The minute her hands were free she brought them to his raging hard on and brushed him lightly through the tightly tented leather. A gargled moan left him as her fingers frantically struggled to undo the button at the top of the pants, inadvertently stroking his abdomen. His muscles contracted under her arousing caress, and she growled frustrated.

“Can’t get--” Buffy pan fum fumbling with his pants. “this button undone!”

“Mo álainn chroí.” He laughed, his hands came down help her, a teasing smirk on his upturned lips.

She chortled throatily at him as they both continued to struggle to unfasten the wretched button. “See it’s not easy after all.”

After her gentle admonishment, she leaned up to kiss the hollow of his throat, before suckling a bit of flesh between her teeth and biting down softly with her teeth.

He couldn’t help the grunt of triumph when he finally got the button to undo and quickly released the zipper to free himself from the damning confinement of his pants.

“Note to self, come to you already unzipped.” He muttered sarcastically before capturing her lips and plundering them thoroughly.

Eagerly Buffy pushed the leather off of his hips, her hands running over the smooth curves of his ass. Seconds later the pants were lowered to the bend of his knee, from there she couldn’t reach down any further. Meanwhile he snagged the last button holding her top together between his teeth and ripped it off. In a rushed movement he kicked off the tangled leather pants, and yanked her pajama away from her warm luscious curves.

Rose colored nipples beseeched him to ease the un-assuaged ache his his teeth. He gladly complied, sucking one harshly between his lips. Buffy keened loudly, her fingers digging into the curves of his butt, her head thrashing back against her pillow.

“Buffy,” he growled, his erection twitching against her damp panties.

“Angel- Angel now- please-” Buffy mewled, tilting her hips up so that he slipped comfortably between her thighs.

He bit hard on her sensitive areole, his hands skimming down the warm supple planes of her stomach before lingering lightly along the elastic band of her panties. His eyes locked with hers, as he slid his cool fingers beneath the flimsy fabric and into her downy curls. Buffy sighed, her breath landing softly on his chest as her hands traced the length of his spine, playing softly in the trough right above the curves of his ass.

Drawn to the sopping entrance of her tight sheath, his fingers dipped into the alluring moisture he found there. Leisurely he traced her dew around her aroused clit, bending to capture one of her breathy whines with another demanding kiss. The kiss broke when Buffy thrashed against him, her head tossing from side to side, as she mewled from the intensity of the pleasure his hand brought her. Fiercely her lips caught his, her left hand clenching in his hair and her right over his straining cock.

“Now Angel!” Buffy sobbed, as he edged her towards climax.

“Let go mo álainn chroí,” he whispered.

“Need you--” she choked, her mouth pressed into the bend of his shoulder. “--inside me.” Her fingers stroked him toward oblivion and suddenly he tore his fingers from her weeping core and ripped her panties off before sinking home.

Her thighs clamped around his hips, locking him deep inside her. He pulled out slowly, biting back a groan as her vaginal muscles clamped tighter around him to prevent him from leaving her fully. In increments he eased back in until reversing half way to pull out again.

Buffy sunk her teeth into his shoulder, to hold in a needy cry. Her hands were on his butt once more in an attempt to pull him deeper into her. He ignored her efforts to change the agonizingly slow pace he’d set and continued to stroke in and out of her until he rubbed directly on her g-spot.

“Oh God!” Buffy keened brokenly, her sheath fluttering briefly around him in a small wave of pleasure. Her walls clamping him tighter, and he growled low in his chest, his head weighty from exertion. He dropped it to the curve of her neck and licked there fleetingly.

His hands wrapped around the backside of her rounded curves, pulling her hips up as he finally gave into the urge to pound her into the mattress. Buffy’s palms slid to cup his waist, her nails biting into the tender flesh there as she raised her hips up to meet the brutal force of his own coming down. He felt her stomach tighten as her cervix squeezed and released him in rapid flutters from swelling waves of passion.

Her voice hitched on his name as it fell from her lips in a husky cry. “An-gel!”

His eyes snapped open, at the feel of her rapidly beating pulse quickening. Thrusting inside her erratically now, he felt his face slip into his vampiric features, helpless to stop it in the face of such intense pleasure. Mindless releasem thm through him, as she milked from him every last drop of his cool seed.

“Buffy,” he groaned, slipping his fangs directly into the artery and guzzling.

Buffy choked, her hips still meeting his, her vaginal walls fusing them together with him so deep inside her, he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. Her hands beat against the broad width of his back, her eyes widening as he kept draining her life’s blood away. A strangled noise came from her parted lips as she tried to suck in air, but darkness wrapped around her--- whispering of warmth and safety.

*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*--*-*

“Oh God! Buffy!” he screamed jerking awake. Cold sweat trickled down his spine, the sheets entangled around his legs ominously, his eyes flashing wildly between amber and chocolate and back again. Frantic, he clawed at the sheets and flung himself from the bed. Desperately he ran down the stairs away from the horrors of his room.

He didn’t kill her. He didn’t do it. “She’s alive. She’s fine. She’s okay.” He chanted to himself as he skidded around the corner and saw Buffy wearing her spring fling dress and blood ting ing down her neck.

Denying the vision, he scrambled backwards up the stairs. “NO!”

The vision of his Buffy morphed into Darla as she encircled around behind him on the stairs. But you will, you want her so bad I can taste it. From you she is never safe. You will have her. You will take her. You are too weak not to.

“Then I’ll die!” He roared, his mind made up.

NO! You’re not suppose to do that! The little girl screamed, her face purpling in rage as she stomped her foot on the ground.

Resolute, he snarled. “Watch me!”

You don’t have the strength my boy, you’re weak.

“I don’t need strength, I just need the sun.” He countered walking down the steps at a sedate pace, a sense of peace gently settling around him as he left the mansion.

That's not that plan! But it’ll work in a pinch! Xander crowed, watching with a steady smirking gaze as he walked away.

Dawn was close at hand, he could smell it. Lengthening his stride, he walked past all the silent cemeteries and past the bad part of town, then the good part of town, in the opposite direction of the docks as he aimed towards the border of Sunnydale. With long steps he strode through the forest and climbed the hill in the clearing about a half a mile from the highway.

Hopefully she wouldn’t think to look for him there. He needed peace, to brood, to remember her sweet face as the sun kissed his skin and he finally went toward that heavenly light. An hour passed, the sky lightened considerably. The promise of colors to dance in hues across the sky calmed him and he grew resolute, ready for the sunrise.

Twilight was lightening the sky he noticed stoically. Long before he saw her he could hear her heart pounding and smell the scent of her fear. The harsh sounds of her breathing fell loudly in the stillness he’d wrapped around himself. When Buffy cleared the crest of the hill he had steeled himself to ignore her.

He wouldn’t beg her for one more kiss. A kiss that would weaken the strength he had gathered around him like a shield. The past gathered like a cloak around him, shielding himself from her.

Spine tingling, he knew when she stood directly behind him at the crest of the hill. Numb and aloof he braced himself rigidly prepared for her argument to hide before the sun rose. Air currents stirred around him as she approached on quiet feet, almost as if she was afraid he’d skittered away if she startled him.

“Angel?” she asked, liltingly.

Coldly he barked. “Go away Buffy.”

“Angel,” Buffy beseeched, touching him lightly on the arm. “Come inside. The sun is rising.”

“I know,” he told her. “I can smell it.”

Earnestly, she said, tightening her grip on his arm. “It’s over. It can’t hurt you, I promise. Let’s go.”

Jerking his arm away, he turned on her, livid. “I can’t promise that! I can’t promise you I won’t hurt you! You were there in the dream- you saw- you know what I did!”

Nervously, she licked her lips. “That wasn’t you, not really Angel. Please.” Buffy entreated. “Please get inside.”

“Let me be strong Buffy. Just this once. Don’t rob me of that.” He said stonily.

“So you’re just going to give up?” Buffy demanded incensed. “Is that it? Some big evil messes with you and you think it’s okay to quit?”

“I’ve done things too horrible to mention!” In a flash he had her shoulders clasped between his hands, shaking her roughly. She had to see! “Am I a righteous man? Hun!”

Frightened, her breathing hitched and her eyes widened. Disgusted with himself, he muttered sarcastically. “No, I’m not.” Numbly he closed in upon himself, looking away. Tiredly he ran a hand through his hair. “The world wants me gone Buffy.”

As he started to turn away Buffy called out desperately. “What about me?” Her voice was lost, broken, and despite his resolution to keep distant. “I hate it!” She yelled sobbing on the unforgiving ground where she sprawled. “I hate that you cart mrt me so much! But I don’t hate you,” she continued her voice growing soft. “I can’t.”

Buffy climbed to her feet, almost stumbling when his hand shot out to catch her fall before he snatched it back. His eyes were wary, not certain whether to fight or back off. She took the choice away when her hands cupped his face. “I can’t hate you, because I love you. All of you, past included. That is why I’m sorry for this…”

Surprised, he grunted and cupped himself, falling to the ground in agony. Shards of pain dug in fromre sre she’d kneed him in the groin. Doubled over, he cussed a blue streak while she stood some ways away with a worried expression on her face.

“Oh Angel-” Buffy reached out hesitantly towards him but he growled warningly, feeling his demon near the forefront. “Buffy… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Buffy yelled angry again as she snatched her hand back. Obviously she wasn’t concerned anymore. “Don’t love you? Gee! I’m sorry Angel!” She shouted sarcastically with dramatic gestures. “I didn’t realize I had a choice in that!”

“I am doing this,” he started pleadingly, wishing her to understand how this was the best thing to do. “Don’t ask me to be weak Buffy- to cling to life when all I am is a parasite that walks the earth-”

“Weak?” Buffy stated, her eyes widening. “You don’t mean that! Strength is fighting Angel. It’s hard. It’s painful. It’s every day. But we can do it together…”

He watched her with tears in his eyes, feeling the first rays of sun creep over the horizon. Every instinct in him was yelling at him to run for shelter, but he wouldn’t. All he did was kill everything around him. It was hard enough to stand here and await death without her there begging him not to. Buffy didn’t understand. did didn’t. Couldn’t. One day he’d kill her, and he couldn’t bear it… wouldn’t.

“Please don’t do this.” Buffy cried, launching into his arms, hugging him fiercely. Awkwardly he held her in his embrace, trying to dislodge her. Time was running out, light kept creeping further over the horizon and soon he’d be dust. “I need you.” Buffy whispered brokenly against his lips, her wet lashes fluttering against the side of his nose.

“Oh God, Buf he he choked, his nose burying in her hair. It was too late. He was going to die and he was going to kill her when he did. If she was everything to him, how could he be any less to her. Her death had nearly drove him off of the cliff, his death would turn her into a self destructive shell as well. She would hate him and hate herself and oh God…

“Angel,” Buffy said frantically pulling at his sleeve and she tripped backwards, fully intending on running with him. “The hill will only provide shade for so long… hurry…”

“It’s not possible Buffy. I won’t make it.”

“Don’t you dare give up! Don’t you dare Angel!”

Adrenaline burned his veins as he ran after her the shadow of the hill looming above them providing a diminishing overcast. Something wet hit his cheek, he brushed it off, he’d cry in her arms later… when he had the time to beg for her forgiveness. Right now they just ran, full out, headed for the trees that clustered dismally at the end of the field.

Another cold drop landed on his cheek, and he swiped at it angrily. He’d make it- with her cheering him on he would get to the line of trees. Had to. Had to for her sake, and his, and theirs. The wetness clung to his cheeks, and he finally gave up wiping them up. Fifteen yards from the scraggly shelter she stopped suddenly and he almost collided with her.

“Buffy,” he yelped, clutching her shoulders as he took a half running step to the side to avoid her. “Can’t stop…” but she grabbed at the fabric of his shirt at the small of his back and held him. He was going to fry her if he caught on fire, and frantically tried to break out of her iron grip.

“Angel,” Buffy said with wonder, her gaze cast upwards.

Cautiously he looked up and saw a swirling mass of dark clouds the backdrop for the small white flakes that floated in the breeze. “It’s snowing,” he said softly, fixing his gaze on her, imprinting the memory in his heart.

Buffy stood there, chest heaving, loose tendrils of blond curls whipping around her face. A large smile blossomed on her lips as she did a little twirl, arms akimbo. “Oh Angel it’s snowing! In California for Christmas!”

“It really is,” he whispered in awe, the white fluffy flakes gathering on his lashes, and he blinked them away slowly.

“Merry Christmas Angel!” Buffy shrieked, gathering in hin her arms. He grinned and spun them in a circle laughing. Still alive! The sparkles in her eye glimmered as she let out a happy squeal. Carefully he set her down on the ground that was quickly being covered in snow.

“Merry Christmas Buffy,” he said, bending his neck to kiss her. Lightly touching his tongue to her lips, he swiped her lips before seeking entrance into her mouth. Teeth grazed against his lower lip as she sucked it into her mouth to suckled roughly before nipping at his wandering tongue. He groaned, gathering her closer to him, dipping her over his arm as he loved her mouth, worshipping her with a kiss as deep as his soul.

Buffy mewled against his mouth, arching up to straighten them, rising up on her toes, rubbing her body against him. She ground against his rapidly growing arousal. He purred, the rumbling sound vibrating in his throat before he pulled away. Snow clung to the tresses of her hair, and he brushed them off clumsily.

“Thank you,” he told her, his gaze fixed on hers.

Buffy nodded, before dismissing the topic. He watched her delight in the falling white crystals, twirling around and around laughing sweetly before stopping a couple of yards away to look at him. Slowly she lowered her arms to her sides, a wicked gleam directed at him before she laughed evilly and dived for the ground.

“Buf-?”

The rest of his sentence was cut off by a ball of snow erupting in his mouth. Dumbfounded he looked down at her crouching with a smirk alighting her glowing features. “Snow war!” Buffy shouted, giving him hardly any warning before she launched another precisely aimed missile, smacking him in the forehead.

“Prepare to surrender,” he said macho-like, and suddenly he was gone.

Buffy looked up from her pile of snowballs to watch with shrewd eyes as she glanced around the clearing. The feeling of the cold compact snow in his hands was a tactile sensation unlike any he could recall, so was the feeling that resided in his chest as he let it loose to hit the back of her blonde curls. She shrieked outraged and without aim tossed another in his direction. It hit the tree as he ducked quickly out of the way.

“You missed!” he called out gleefully, as he bent around from behind the tree to throw one at her shoulder hoping to knock her aim off again.

“Not because my aim was bad!” Buffy teased, trampling her created snowballs so not to leave any ammo behind when she raced for the cover of thicker woods.

The next snowball smashed into the small of her back and she growled, ducked around a tree and gathered another mound of snow compacting it quickly. He darted through the forest after her, unknowingly or uncaringly getting lured into her trap. He was blind sided by the first one, blocked the second one with his hand, but he kept coming after her so her last snowball was hastily made and launched at his stomach but it fell apart before hitting him.

Grinning triumphantly he grabbed her, and kissed away her squeal of delight. Buffy laughed in his mouth, and he felt himself laughing too, his chest shaking with barely contained mirth. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she tried to climb into his body with their kiss. When they broke apart her breath fogged the air in front of his face.

Buffy’s expression made him smile.

“Surrender?” he asked pleasantly, with an undertone of masculine satisfaction.

“Unconditionally? Never!” Buffy said in mock appall as the two of them turned from each other.

Gingerly, he clasped her hand in his enjoying the feel of her warm hand within his cooler larger one. “We could always have some conditions…” he started leadingly.

“I’d settle for us going out once in a while on non slaying related ventures.”

“I was thinking more along the lines that you model for me.” He said slowly, his mind focusing on such a tantalizing evening that would be.

Buffy made a gibberish sound. “Yeah! Sure!” She skipped ahead and turned around to walk backwards while looking at him. “When?”

“Tonight, a gift for you.”

Buffy faced forward again and clutched his hand in hers, bringing his fingers to her lips, pressing a soft kiss on his Claddagh. “Shall I be Missus Santa Clause? I got a little red hat with a white fluffy thingy.”

He suddenly remembered something. “Hey I saw that you got a little something for yourself, why don’t you model that?”

Buffy blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ears. “You saw that hun?”

“Not how I’d like to see it,” he grinned. “Wear it?”

She looked up at him from beneath a veil of lashes. “Okay.”

A surge of desire washed over him. Arousal clotted his mind as he struggled to think straight and keep away from the images of Buffy scantily clad in something lacey and silky, looking sexy. His fingers squeezed around her tiny hand as they entered Sunnydale on the edge of town.

The snow fell softly around them, their feet wading through the foot and a half of snow. Halfway through town he had the urge to kiss her again. With a devilish smile he spun her around and dipped her in his arms, bringing his head down to hers. Buffy smiled up at him and brought their mouths together to suckle his tongue into her mouth.

“Angel,” she breathed, the heat of her breath once again fogging the air around them. “I think the heat was vastly under-rated. It’s cold.”

“All right we’ll go get inside.”

“I have your gift at my house, shall we swing by?”

He nodded, steering them to Revello Drive. About fifteen minutes later they were climbing into her room via the tree outside her window. While she was gathering her shopping bags, he sat on the windowsill and watched her.

Buffy turned towards him, a slight smile on her face. “I didn’t get around to wrapping this yet, sorry.” She handed him a small gift bag with ‘Crayon Toys’ written on it.

“Want me to open it now?” He asked, and she nodded opening the other bag in her hands and sticking her hand inside.

Carefully he peeled the bag open and slowly, savoring the gift, he reached inside. His fingers enclosed around a small metallic object and he pulled it out. It was a small musical instrument with six holes in it. It was a tin whistle--

“The lady said it was a penny whistle back in the day when one of those things only cost a penny or two. Today it’s a tin whistle, I thought it was nicely symbolic. Doyoulikeit?” Buffy asked in a rush, apprehension clouding her eyes into a silver gray color.

He smiled widely at her. “Are you kidding? It’s great!” He told her enthused, bringing it to his lips and giving it a small puff of air.

“Oh whew,” Buffy said, obviously relieved. A wicked smile curled on her lips as she pulled out the snow white teddy with lacey garters and sheer hose. “Do you like this as well?”

Floored, he tried to get his mouth connected to his brain, but settled for a nod, his eyes lustily taking in the wisp of fabric and imaging her in it.

Buffy laughed huskily. “I like it when you’re nonverbal.”

He only gazed at her mute; she was sorely testing his strength of will. He swallowed once, thinking she’d be the death of him one of these days. It was almost a certainty.

End of chapter nineteen.