Ever wonder what goes through our favorite Slayer's head as she processes all the amazing experiences

she has? How she has felt about falling in love with and desiring Angel? Well this is the fanfic series for you. It answers all these questions and more, providing obsessive fans with a more detailed view of the Buffyverse as experienced by Buffy herself. Buffy's Diary helps to fill in the blanks after the episode ends. Each entry corresponds to one or more episodes. The listing below begins with the most recent entries. Laste Entry: Undated Entry on White Writing Paper - Part 2 Laste Entry: Undated Entry on White Writing Paper - Part 1 January 21, 1998 January 20, 1998 January 19, 1998 January 13, 1998 January 12, 1998 January 10-11, 1998 January 8, 1998 December 7-9, 1997 December 6, 1997 December 5, 1997 December 1, 1997 November 25, 1997

Undated Entry on White Writing Paper Undated Entry on Yellow Legal Paper November 16, 1997 November 12, 1997 November 7, 1997 - Part 3 November 7, 1997 - Part 2 November 7, 1997 - Part 1 November 1, 1997 - Part 3 November 1, 1997 - Part 2 November 1, 1997 - Part 1 October 29, 1997 October 12-14, 1997 October 10, 1997 October 9, 1997 October 8, 1997 - Part 2 October 8, 1997 - Part 1 October 7, 1997 September 30, 1997 September 23, 1997 September 16, 1997 Note from Harpy: Thanks go to the many fanfic writers and fans who have encouraged and inspired me, both with their wonderful letters and with their astounding work. Fanfic is something to be proud of. Special gratitude to: Princess Jenn, Chrystal, seneca, rozeart, Tam and Lex, and especially Kyra, for the idea to write it in the first place.

harpy101@hotmail.com

Buffys Diary September 16, 1997

Timeline: Shortly after Buffy smashes the Masters bones in, When She Was Bad.

So, its over. I know this part of it is over. In my lifetime there wont be another Master. There are some of them that are so fun to kill that you almost wish you could do it again. Not this time. Some other Slayer will meet him again, and THAT is too damn soon. I wish I could stop that. If I could I would. Theres no hatred like it, the whole thing is like Mom describes a wretched hangover or something, with the smell of what you drank permeating you, even after youve barfed. Hes hard to shake off. I have to re-run the whole thing in my head to remind myself its really over, that I really beat him. He got to me, he was in me somehow, and I can still smell him a little, and its the most disgusting smell in the world. I need to stop hating him because I dont have to anymore, and it drains me, and I hate him for draining me even after hes dead. It really made it hard with Angel, sometimes I looked at him and even though I knew he was helping me and that I needed him.....all I could see was vampire, just a greedy, life-stealing, childstalking, night-prowling pest. Once youre initiated you know in your bones what needs to happen, and it can be hard to turn off. I would never kill Angel but there were moments when I really hated him, just because of what he is. I know it hurt him and I couldnt help it at all. Im starting to feel better, its going to take a couple of days. And what am I going to say to Willow and Xander? I cant even think about that now, but Im so sick of my whole life being ruined by this thing. Cant I have just one friend? Well, I do, actually. He walked me home. He stayed close to me and I was so grateful for him next to me, I was so grateful for all that hes put up with and all the fighting he did for me. I let him come into my room with me, it made me feel better just to have him there.

"Thanks. For everything. For not-for not doing what I would have done," I was so drained, I sat on the edge of my bed and he sat beside me. "What do you mean?" he said. "Well, I think if somebody treated me the way Ive been to you lately..I think I would have bolted and left them to handle it themselves," "You handle plenty by yourself," "Well...thank you. For not bolting," "You never have to thank me," I hadnt really looked at him directly for the whole walk home, but I did now. "Why not?" "Im where I want to be," It was good to have him there beside me, but it just wasnt enough. "I want to be-somewhere else," I said. "Where?" he frowned a little. I crawled sideways into his arms. "Id really like to be here, right now," I said. I climbed right into his lap. He closed his eyes and enfolded me snugly. "You did great," he said softly, "You were amazing," I sighed, thinking about the whole thing, "I was stupid," "You made a bad decision. Everyone makes them. But you won the war. You beat him anyway," "I risked the lives of my friends," "You saved their lives," "I treated you awful," "You were taonan," "I was whaa?"

"Taonan. Its a Chinese word...theres really no word for it in English. Its a state of mind, its like death panic, people are taonan when bombs are falling and they suddenly realize that death is running loose, it means terrible danger is coming and if youre running out in the street even your friends and family would trample you, because the fear is so intense, most of the time in a war everybody will be taonan. Its a survival mechanism. You needed to think only of yourself, and with good reason, because no one else could save you. You were hung out like bait on a hook, the only thing you could do was get into that state of mind, to survive. Its a thing that happens in war. Youre a warrior. Youre friends dont live in a human wartime, so they dont understand you, but you needed to be that way. And you did survive. And you saved their lives, too. Cut yourself a little slack," I squeezed myself closer to him. I felt my eyes start to sting again. I was shaking. "I dont think Ill ever be able to talk about it," I said. "You dont have to," "But YOU know," then I lost it, I was crying again, and he held me tight, "I need that, I need you knowing," "I always will," He smelled so good. I buried my face in his neck, but I was sorry because I was crying all over him, I was sniffing and my face was soaked, his collar was getting damp. "I hope the dreams dont come back," my voice was shaking, and it sounded so cowardly to me, when I said it. "They shouldnt. Slayer dreams are more literal than other peoples dreams. And the Master is gone," "It stinks," I said. "I hate those dreams," "I can imagine," he said gently. I pulled back so I could look at him. "How do you know me so well?" He looked uncomfortable. "I like you," he said, lamely. "Yeah, but...you know so much about me, about how I feel," "It helps to be old," he smiled. When he smiles his face transforms, it plumps up somehow, and then he does look like an angel, like the paintings of Gabriel or St.

Michael, a really beautiful face. That face must have done some serious damage a couple of centuries ago. Who could resist him? It was too easy to imagine him breaking hearts and ripping throats out. The thought sent cold into me. I thought about him now, how he was so willing to earn every little bit of trust, how he walked what he talked, how he seemed to pull knowledge out of thin air. Theres nobody else like him anywhere. Well, obviously, theres never a sale on vampires with restored souls, but also in other ways. Hes an extraordinary person. I was starting to feel tired. The shaking was going away. He read my mind again. "Can you get some sleep?" "I think so," I felt around inside myself and thought, no, I dont think Ill get any more of those dreams. At least not tonight. He turned away toward the window and I changed. When I said OK he turned around and his eyes moved over me so tightly that I could almost feel it, they were fixed on me, and then he caught himself and looked me in the eye. It was a feeling like hed touched me all over with that look, I was warm. It is a great nightgown, its mostly lace. White lace, and really short. I started to take down my hair. "May I?" he asked, and I shuddered a little, I really wanted him to. I stood in front of the mirror and he carefully pulled the elastic out. He reached past me to the dresser and picked up my brush and started brushing my hair, so gently. I shut my eyes, because I just wasnt in the mood to not see him behind me in the mirror. It was a wonderful release, though, the sensation of him lifting sections of my hair and running the brush through them in long, slow strokes, raking the bristles against my scalp lightly, it left me feeling clear and so much more relaxed. He brushed one side up and away, and then back, and then brushed the other side, and when my hair was away from my neck he leaned close and just barely put his lips on my ear, then down the back of my neck. Goosebumps came up on my arms. He kissed my throat, a little more wetly, a little more firmly, and a thrill shot up from somewhere just below my belly button and all the way up. He kissed the line of my jaw, behind my ear, down the back of my neck again, and down further, little kisses down my spine almost to the middle of my back. He dropped the brush on the dresser. I started to turn around, but he took my shoulders in his hands and stopped me. He kissed along my shoulders and ran his hands smoothly over my arms, slipped his fingers up the back of my neck into my hair, and he held my hair in one hand while he kissed every inch of my neck. I felt soft all over, I whispered his name, it was wonderful, so wonderful. His arm went around me and I leaned back against him, I craned my face up for a kiss, and he slid his tongue between my lips and then deeper. I was dizzy, I leaned strongly on him and he picked me up. He held me there for a minute, I was completely off the floor and he held me up to continue that long kiss. A small breeze came through the window and floated over me and right then I would have done anything, anything in the world he asked me to. He carried me to my bed and laid me on it. "Get some sleep," he said.

I wanted to whine for him to stay but I didnt. He pulled the covers over me and bent over me, smiling. He stroked my cheek, and he kissed me again. "No bad dreams tonight," he said. "Maybe some with warning labels, though," He laughed in a small snort. "You won the war, Buffy. You can sleep now," he snapped off the light. I saw his shadow by the window. "See you...soon?" I said, I couldnt help it. "Count on it," and he was gone. I didnt have dreams last night but I did think about war, and what war really is. I always thought of it as bombs, but theres all kinds of wars and they all cost the people in them so much...too much. I wondered how many wars Angel had seen, hes been around long enough for two world wars, anyway. Wars are convenient for vampires, sort of like a happy hour, but what about if you had a soul? And where did he learn Chinese? And how did he know so much about me all the time? And what would all of this have been like without him?

Buffy's Diary September 23, 1997

Timeline: After the episode, Some Assembly Required....Buffy walks Angel home.

Yuck! I'm glad Angel missed most of that. Not just creepy, but really disgusting. Chris did do it for his brother, but ugh! Frankenstein Barbie. I wonder if Xander's right about love, about how you only want what's not right in front of you. It bugged me a little, when he said that, because guys are so weird about girls...they all seem to have these ideas about what we SHOULD look like. Mom says it's the magazines, but I don't know. I've heard the way some of them talk and it can be pretty awful, the filthy names and the contempt they seem to have, but it's never bothered me too much, because I've just never put up

with it. I still think Xander could be wrong. Willow likes him, and he's right in front of her, but maybe it's because he's a boy, or maybe it's because that's just the way HE is. He's always falling for the newest, shiniest girl, when he could have the smartest one, who loves him the most. Boys, the strangest creatures. And then there's Angel. The word "boy" just doesn't work for him. No word really works for him except Angel. But he 'fessed up, and it was so cool that he did, he should have. He told me he was jealous, which was good, but when he said that thing about how Xander gets to see me in the sunlight my heart came apart a little, like he'd tugged on it's seams. It got to me. It was late so I walked him home. He held my hand and we walked together and we didn't say anything for a long time, it felt so good. Silences with him beat the best talks with anybody else. It was a nice night, cool and quiet, and we just walked together and didn't need to say anything. We were at his apartment. "Sure you're OK?" he asked. To be fair, he asks that question just as often as he tells me I'm in danger. "Yeah," We were standing outside his door. I was wondering if he was going to ask me in, but it didn't seem like he was. Suddenly I wanted to ask him something. "Did-you and Cordy have a nice talk-when you took her home?" "Well, she sort of took me," "I know-and I know you didn't want to be impolite, but I just-" "Slayers get jealous too?" he smiled. "Not jealous-just-curious," He glanced up, he looked like he was in deep thought. "As a conversationalist-" he paused. "Yeah?" "Talking to her is a lot like having a conversation with a basket of kittens," "Well, kittens are soft and cute, and-" "Wrong analogy, then," he interrupted, "A basket of lizards. A basket of anything that can't carry on a two-way conversation,"

"Is conversation so important?" "It is when you've been around long enough. Communication. Vampires are addicted to it. You might not think so, but we're so cut off from everything that's human, that's real. And it gets incredibly boring, listening to the undead hash over their kills and talk about how much more powerful they are than everybody else and how old they are. And if you've hung out in palace gardens after debutante parties, you know every word somebody like Cordelia is going to say before it even leaves her mouth. The obsessions don't change, just the designer names," "It sounds like un-life can get pretty boring," He looked at me. He smiled just a little, and his eyes did that thing where they warm up, they seemed to soak me in. "Sometimes you get lucky," he said. "You mean getting your soul back? Doesn't sound like too much fun," "Sometimes things happen-that make other things worth the trouble," he was gazing at me ...almost....adoringly. "Well, I think a walk home is worth a kiss," I said. I can be really foreword sometimes. In some ways he really brings out the bad in me. He smiled a little wider, and he slowly took my face in his hands, moving his thumbs over my cheeks, and he bent his head and touched his lips to mine softly, our mouths just touched very lightly for a long time, but even that was so sweet that I sighed . He kissed me a little harder then, pushing his mouth into mine, back and forth, gently. I slipped my arms around his neck and stood on my toes, my mouth parted, he slipped his tongue over my upper lip ..every little thing he does makes my heart beat harder. He took my lower lip in his teeth and did that stroking with his tongue again, slowly, lingering. He could write a book on kissing. He wrapped his arms around me then and lifted me off the ground, so it was easier for us to kiss. My feet were dangling and his tongue was curling under mine, tickling me, and then he started just kissing my cheeks, small, soft kisses, and little kisses all over my lips, and I was panting. I was holding his face in my hands then, and just losing myself, he was so delicious, he was cool and he tasted good, and I slipped my hands inside his jacket and up his back, loving the solidness of the muscles there, I could feel the rich lines of them under his shirt and the way they shifted when he moved, lifting me higher. He took two steps and pressed me back against the side of the doorway. He slid his tongue into my mouth, deeper and deeper, and I was trying to take all of it, it's so long and so thick that it was hard to do, but so exciting I was making little noises every time he gave it to me, I had to open my mouth wide to take it all. He pressed me against the doorway and I opened my mouth over and over again to take his tongue in deep, he could actually almost touch the back of my throat, and I drew on it hard, I was moving against him, almost twisting in his arms. Suddenly he pulled away, as if he heard

something. He looked up, and I could feel it, too. It's weird, I always know when daylight is coming, and when dark is coming, not just by looking, but I can feel it. We both felt dawn coming even though it was still dark. He lowered me back to my feet. "You'd better get inside," I said. He put his hand on my cheek. He gazed at me for a long minute. "Thanks for walking me home," he said. "Had to make sure you were safe," I grinned at him. "Are you going to get enough rest?" "I keep odd hours anyway," I shrugged. "Don't get too tired," "Go to bed," I said, and then, because I have practically no self-control, I said, "Sometime maybe I'll get to tuck you in," He had the door half open and he leaned toward me. We kissed softly. "Goodnight...I mean, sleep well," I said. He smiled and closed the door behind him. So, do boys have to be old enough before they start to like actual girls instead of fantasy ones? How old? I don't think even my Dad is over that stage entirely. I wonder how many women Angel has known sometimes, but I stop thinking about it because that way lies madness. I should feel pretty good about him liking me, in a way, he's been around the block a few times so I must be holding my own. Sometimes I wonder if it's just that I'm the Slayer, and he's got an agenda...except a lot of the time his agenda seems to be helping me with my agenda. I know why he didn't ask me in, but it makes me pout a little. He gets to come in my room. We'll have to talk about this sometime. I have class in two hours. I should have slept, but it's history, so I can catch up there.

Buffys Diary September 30, 1997

Timeline: After the episode School Hard.

Wow...Spike was a toughie. Just like a lot of boys, hes got so much to prove. Im so proud of Mom and I hope it embarrassed him. Ive never chopped so many vegetables in my life and he really messed it all up....well, sort of. Its cool the way Mom dealt with it. Im really going to have to get around to killing that guy. He gets on my nerves. Maybe its the accent, although it works for Giles. Angel came to my room again last night. Id finished getting ready for bed and I was thinking about how to get Moms new shining opinion of me to last longer than a week. I was putting fresh polish on my toenails when I heard the soft knock and saw him sitting on my windowsill. "Hi," I said. "Spikes not done," he said, "Dont underestimate him," "Nice to see you, too," I said, getting back to my little toe, "Come on in," "Sorry," he said, "But this is important," "You know him," I had smeared my polish again. I always have trouble with my left little toe, I always have to do it over like three times. He was silent. I sighed, finished getting the polish just right, and looked up at him. He had that familiar look on his face, the one where hes holding in darkness. "We go back," he said. "So-hes killed a few Slayers," "Two," "I should dust him just for them," "Just be careful. Hes almost as vicious as I used to be," "Almost?" His eyes were like a room right after you turn the lights off, dark in a startling way, an almost shocking dark. It was unnerving. I was thinking about a certain amazing kiss the other night, and I wanted him to lighten up. I held out my foot to him. "I can never get my little toe right," I said, "And since youre so good with hair-"

"I have to go," he stood up. "Why?" What had gotten into him? His eyes went over me. I was wearing shorts and his glance crept slowly up my legs. Well, at least he still noticed me. His eyes hit mine and they were full of sadness and something like fear. "I cant be a weakness for you," he said. I looked at him for a minute. Finally I said, "Well, so far, you really havent been. So far, youve bailed me out, youve watched my back, youve helped me. Youve helped me when I was too stupid to know I needed you. From the outside it might even look like you make me stronger," He turned and looked out the window, "Theres-theres a lot of human in me," he said. "Ive noticed that. Makes you Slayer-friendly," "This is serious," he wheeled on me, his voice had dug itself lower, almost into a growl, "You cant allow yourself to be distracted or weakened by anything. One weakness leads to others. You get lazy, you get sloppy, you let one thing throw you off and thats all it takes for someone like him to kill you," "And that one thing would be-you?" He really was upset. His head was lowered a little, he was almost glaring at me. "When have you made me sloppy? When has your being there thrown me off the kill? Have you ever even slowed me down? Just one example would be nice, because Im not getting this. It sounds like an excuse," I said. A look that was almost a snarl crossed his face, and he turned toward the window. I jumped up and grabbed him by his belt. I sort of hate to brag, but only the Masters reflexes have ever been in the same ballpark with mine. Well, so far. I pulled him back into the room, a little harder than I needed to. We bumped right into each other. He leaned over me for a second, he looked down at me and something else came over him. I thought for a minute he was going to put his arms around me. He jerked himself back and put his hands in his pockets, quickly. "Whats up with you?" I said, looking him in the eye. "What arent you telling me?" "Please be careful," he almost whispered it, it was like a plea. It spooked me. "Careful of what? Is there another prophesy?"

"No," I reached up and touched his cheek. He shied away with a liquid movement, animalquick. That made me angry. "Its probably been a while since you hung out in a younger circle, right? Let me bring you up to speed with a new hip one-liner: Honey, I need more space,. What that does is give the girl a dignity warning, and you the reputation as a decent guy, because at least you told her-" "He wouldnt kill you quickly," he blurted, "Hed do it slowly, over years, hed have you chained up and show you off, hed sap the life out of you over decades," "Hes not the Master," I said, maybe a little arrogantly. "Hes not garden-variety either," "So-now I know that," "Its my fault," he said it so softly to himself that I almost didnt hear him. Almost. "Is that why you wont touch me now?" I asked him, "Because Spike coming here is supposed to be your fault? He makes his own decisions, doesnt he? I mean, hes not your child, is he?" "Actually-he is," "What?" "I made him," he stalked across the room, as far as you can stalk in my room, its a kind of small for big, tortured strides. He sat on the windowsill again, swinging one leg over and looking out. "OK," I went over and sat on the windowsill, dangling both my legs out the window. I looked down and realized that I still had cotton between my toes. I reached down and started plucking the cotton out. "So, a dysfunctional family member shows up. Does this make for a moral conflict?" His head snapped around to look at me. "Absolutely not," "Something else is going on here," I said, "But I have the feeling youre in your mancave or something, so Im done interrogating you," I dropped the cotton balls on the floor.

"My man-what?" I sighed, "Never mind... self-help subculture reference," He took his lower lip in his teeth and narrowed his eyes at me. His eyes traveled down my arm and stayed fixed on my hand. He seemed to be struggling, and then he took my hand in his. He laid his other hand on top, sandwiching mine between his, and held his hands up to his mouth. My fingertips were just barely poking out between his hands. His kissed my fingertips and closed his eyes. I leaned foreword and pulled his hands away from his mouth and kissed him. He shuddered all over. I kissed him again, a little wetter this time, I slipped my tongue in a long stroke between his lips. Both his arms wound around me and suddenly I was in his lap, he was holding my face in his hands and kissing me full strength. I sighed, my whole body went liquidy-soft, I wrapped my arms around his neck. He held my head in his big hands and kissed me as if I was a river and he was dying of thirst. One of his hands slipped around my back and he crushed me up against him. My nipples were hard from being in the cool night air on the windowsill, and I know he could feel them even through my t-shirt and his shirt, he made a yearning noise when they came up against his chest. I rubbed myself against him, making it worse, loving making it worse. His hands moved all over me, almost mauling me, over my face, stroking my lips with his thumb, through my hair, up the back of my neck, down my back, sliding over my arms, rubbing my hands. He reached down swiftly and took one of my feet in his hand and brought it right up to his mouth, planting a big, wet, tickly kiss all over the bottom of it. I almost shrieked, I made a high sound but I managed to cut it off. He ran his tongue over my toes, and I fell backward, holding my hand over my mouth because it was just too much not to scream or to laugh or both. He reached out to catch me and suddenly we were in a really scarey position: he was holding me right up against him and one of my legs was way up in the air, I was practically doing a split on his chest. He craned his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, and he carefully lowered my foot and then released me. We both sat there for a minute, recovering, and then he was on his feet. "I have to go," He growled. "I know," I was panting, literally. "Be on the lookout for Spike. Hell turn up when you dont expect him. Hes powerful, hes probably already got minions of his own here now, a workforce," "I will," "I," He swallowed and looked at me with so much longing that it turned my legs into jello, "I-Ill see you soon,"

He was gone. Ill dust Spike, its just a matter of time. I do have other things to think about. Like an exchange student, and a dance, and a vampire that Im afraid Im falling way too hard for.

Buffys Diary October 7, 1997

Timeline: After the episode, Inca Mummy Girl

Poor Xander. Nothing ever works out for him with girls. It was really hard on him. I can relate. And I felt really bad for that girl. All she wanted was a normal life. I say that to myself sometimes. A lot of times. Ill be watching Xander and Willow laughing, or Cordy with her entourage in the halls, and I feel so alone and sad because I can never be like that again. I can never act as if everything is going to be OK, because I know that it isnt, unless I make it OK. But then, when its time to patrol, I get this totally different feeling. Its like being over-caffinated or after youve done detention on a Saturday all day, this seriously restless feeling, this NEED...its a need to get out and get some night air, its a bone-deep craving to drive a wooden stake into a vampires heart. When they explode into dust its like scratching an itch that I havent been able to reach all day, SATISFYING. Ive been the Slayer for years now and it still doesnt sound normal. It looks so sick on the paper but when Im patrolling I feel this deep pleasure, probably like a football player making a touchdown, this clean feeling of a job well done. I wonder how old Ill get to be. The Master is dead, but all these delightful new variations on the Hellmouth theme keep cropping up. Will I ever get to college? Will I ever get to even graduate? It used to be so simple. Grow up, marry Christian Slater and die. Not any more, not ever again. I wouldnt wish a prophesy on anyone. It scars you. Its hard to let go of. Theres not much that makes you feel better when youve been that close to total defeat. Almost dying was bad enough, but when it came down to it I wanted so badly to beat the Master that I WENT to die, just so I could take him with me.

I guess, for me, defeat by a vampire is worse than dying. Angels right, though, I did win the war. He must have known how much I needed to hear him say that. I havent seen Angel in days. Not here, not in any of the cemeteries, the Bronze. I even went by his apartment but I didnt knock or anything, there wasnt a light on. Things were intense between us last time. Its a very frightening chemistry we have, its so close to out of control, but its also like the rightest thing in the world, the only thing thats really, truly right. And, of course, its wrong. I should be doing my heavy petting in the back seat of the football captains car...at least, thats what it says in the unwritten high school manual. As if that applies to me. But I wonder whats going on. Is it the chemistry, is it that he doesnt want us to lose control? I understand, he is so much older than me that it boggles the mind, but hes a good person...are vampires people? No, but the rules of the vampire universe dont apply to him any more than the rules of normal humanity apply to me. He is a person, to me. Hes a lot more than that to me. Nobody would argue that hes extraordinary. Hes patient and kind, hes so strong in so many ways, hes wise, hes smart, hes beautiful, and he cares about me. I can feel it, its the one consistent thing in my life. I get irritated with him sometimes, but the reason he irritates me is that hes always trying to protect me, help me out. Almost like angels I heard about when I was little, an angel watching over you....maybe sometimes I could be a little more appreciative. I miss him. Im sitting on my windowsill writing this, and the trees are swaying and I can hear crickets singing and cars go by once in a while... its my room, the same room thats mine every night when I get home from patrol, but now it feels empty. I wonder what hes doing right now. Id like to know him better. Id like to know so many things about him, the list would be epic if I wrote down everything I wondered about. Not all of his past is pretty, but thats OK. High school boys frighten me, Im always afraid that Im going to bruise them accidentally, or that holy water will fall out of my purse, or even that I might get asked out, because I cant ever seem to go to anything anyway. Most of my nights are booked. And what would a normal guy think? I see the way Angel smiles at me after I make a kill. He admires the way I do it. I can almost see him saying, "Nice," when I dust a vampire. I dont get much of that. He knows what Im up against, and he likes me for it. I need that. And he likes ME, I know it. More than likes. I want to know him as a person. Theres no one else like him. Id love to ask him a million things...what was his family like? Whats with his soap fixation? I know he has something going on with soap because he can smell like five different kinds in five nights...Im sure hes a clean freak. How many languages does he speak? How many countries has he seen? Whats it like to fight other vampires? He must have hobbies, something he likes... Does he love me?

Buffys Diary October 8, 1997 Part 1

Timeline: (Between the episodes, Inca Mummy Girl and Reptile Boy) In the beginning of Reptile Boy Buffy tells Willow shes dreamt of Angel three nights in a row. This is the first part of the first dream.

I just had the most intense dream....WOW....I feel like I might not even be awake now...its so weird to have dreams like that. My dreams about the Master were like this in a way, they were so VIVID, so real! But they stunk. This one...this one I wish I had on video. I was sleeping. It wasnt just that I knew I was sleeping, I felt like I was asleep. A cool breeze came in the window, and I was wishing Angel would show up, even if he had the usual bad news, I just wished I could see the outline of his body in the dark. I turned over on my stomach and the covers slipped off my feet. I was going to sit up and fix the covers but a pair of big, cold, gentle hands slipped over them and held them, and I gasped. His fingers stroked my feet with long motions, his thumbs gliding over my insteps, the tips of his fingers pushing gently between my toes, he held my heels in his palms. I sighed, and then I gasped again because his lips were against my instep, that most sensitive part of my foot, and he was kissing, the kind of kisses where he dips his tongue very slightly. He moved his mouth all over the bottoms of my feet, nibbling and kissing, and all I could do was lay there and croon. His fingers slid up my legs and stopped at the backs of my knees, and soon his mouth was here, too, so gentle and cool, and I was shaking all over. Thats the main part that was so real, the way I could FEEL everything. Little thrills were crawling up my legs with every kiss, and up and up...his fingers were moving slowly, so slowly up the backs of my thighs underneath the covers, and I thought somewhere in my mind, "Too close, pull away" but my body wouldnt do it. My heart was pounding. His hands slid smoothly up over the curves of my behind under my panties and he spread his fingers inside them and slipped them off, all the way down, and pulled them over my feet. I was breathing so hard that my mouth was getting dry...I was waiting for him to keep on where he had stopped, but I heard the soft sound of clothes falling on the floor. I started to turn over but he stopped me, holding on to my ankles. He didnt say anything and I didnt, it was a magical silence that neither one of us wanted to break.

He kissed the balls of my feet and started moving up. He moved so slowly, almost lazily, but with complete devotion in every kiss, in every touch. His mouth traveled over the backs of my legs. Goosebumps came up all over me, and something else happened...I felt myself start to get wet between my legs. He was taking his time, and it started to drive me crazy. My hips jerked, I didnt mean to, I had no control over that. His hands slid over my behind again, finally, and his mouth followed. He took tiny mouthfuls of each cheek, tongue sweeping softly inside each kiss. He wasnt going to leave one cell unkissed. His hands slipped up under my belly and held me as though I was something to eat, like a slice of watermelon that you have to hold with both hands, he was lifting me to his mouth. After a long time he pulled away and I felt dizzy...he lifted my feet together as he knelt on the foot of the bed and pressed them close to each other...and then he pressed his hardness onto the soles of my feet. I said, "OH!" out loud, and bit the pillow. I realized everything at that moment: that he was undressed, that he was so hard he didnt even feel like flesh, he felt like stone, and that he was going to do even more wonderful things to me. He took my ankles and spread them apart lovingly, everything he does he does with affection, I always feel that. A little trickle moved between my legs, I was so wet it was actually dripping out of me. He moved up closer and knelt between my legs. He slipped a hand over my back. Im always surprised at he size of his hands...his hand almost spanned the width of my shoulders. He kissed the inside of my thigh, his hand still stroking my back, and then both his hands moved down and tenderly spread me apart. I could not be quiet anymore. "Aaaangel!" "Shhhhh," His lips brushed my inner thighs. He stopped when his mouth found wetness and delicately sipped it up. He followed the wetness he found, and then I felt his mouth between my legs, just his lips at first, brushing softly, then he started licking, little flicks. "AAaaa....Aaangel, Angel!" "Shhh...shhh...shhh," "I cant..." He moved off the bed, reaching for something. He leaned over me, his mouth next to my ear. "Buffy, youve got to be quiet," he whispered. "Do you need some help?" "Yesss,"

He slipped one of my chiffon scarves around my head, between my teeth. I knew what he meant. I wasnt gagged at all really, but it would remind me. He tied it just tight enough to stay on, testing it to make sure it wasnt cutting me. "Weve just started, Buffy," he whispered sweetly, "Youve got to try to be quiet,"

Buffys Diary October 8, 1997 Part 2

Timeline: (Between the episodes, Inca Mummy Girl and Reptile Boy) In the beginning of Reptile Boy Buffy tells Willow shes dreamt of Angel three nights in a row. This is the second part of the first dream.

He slipped one of my chiffon scarves around my head, between my teeth. I knew what he meant. I wasnt gagged at all really, but it would remind me. He tied it just tight enough to stay on, testing it to make sure it wasnt cutting me. "Weve just started, Buffy," he whispered sweetly, "Youve got to try to be quiet," I was panting, and I nodded. He climbed between my legs again. He slid his fingertips up and down my legs for a while, and the kisses returned, to my thighs, then between my legs, feather-light at first, then wetter. I heard him sigh, it was almost a moan. His tongue dipped, it was long and thick and cool, it slid deeper and deeper, slowly moving inside me and out, deep into me where I was dripping hot, deeper each time, and I finally lost it. I buried my head deep in the pillow and screamed, my body was contracting around him, he buried it in me and I screamed and screamed, partly in shock because I had never had any idea that I could ever feel like that. He slipped his hands under my hips again and lifted me, and his tongue moved foreward to that one little place, the little nub, his tongue was strong but it felt like wet silk, it was stroking little circles, and I lost it again, right away. I jerked back against him and shoved my head under the pillow and screamed with everything I had into the mattress. His tongue moved backward then and I tensed and jumped because I was embarrassed. He nuzzled his face against the cheek of my behind as if it were a pillow and rested there for a while. His hand stroked my behind and my thighs dreamily, coming gradually nearer and nearer to it, lulling me. He wasnt going to accept a refusal, but he wasnt going to go there until I allowed it, either, he just kept caressing me, no hurry at all. In a way it was a little nightmarish, because I was going to give in to

him and I was scared, but at the same time it was incredibly exciting, my heart was thumping, I could almost hear it. He stroked a finger across the little opening and I jerked, but it didnt feel bad, not at all. I knew he wouldnt allow it to. His tongue started to stroke between my cheeks and it felt really good, so good, and then his fingers were between my legs, slipping back and forth. His finger went a little deeper and his tongue, further back, crept closer. I suddenly realized that my hands hurt because I had handfuls of covers and I was clenching them in my fists...if Id had handfuls of coal they would have been diamonds by now. His tongue touched me in back, licking. His finger slid a tiny way inside me where I was hot and wet. His tongue nudged...at first I didnt like it at all, it tickled but it was irritating, but then he pushed even deeper and it felt completely different. His finger slid further inside me, that felt wonderful, the air went out of me. I moved, because I wanted more of his finger, but he was driving his tongue up into me, and that became even more wonderful, and then he pushed his finger into me and his tongue into me all the way, at the same time, and I had to bury my head in the pillow. He pushed two fingers in now, and I jerked on his fingers and tongue, and wetness flooded out of me all over again. Everything went distant suddenly, as if Id dived into a pool, all the sound and texture of the world went away and when it came back I felt like I had just been underwater, I was gasping for air and trembling. He pulled away when I started to go limp, he rolled onto his side and brought me up against him with my back to his chest. I felt his hardness and I trembled more. I couldnt help thinking that there was NO WAY. Hed skewer me. I was afraid of it but I wanted to touch it. I reached in back of me and stroked it with my fingertips. "Mmmmmhhh," he moaned. I reached up and took the scarf from around my head. I flipped over quickly, so I was facing him. We havent kissed, I thought, and I kissed him. He was so pretty, even in the faint light. I closed my hand around him. It was a stretch, my fingers just barely made it all the way around. He moaned again. "Shhh," I said. He was looking down, watching my hands, and I realized he was going to let me play. Ive heard that a lot of boys they arent like that. They beg or even give orders sometimes. Thats what Ive heard, anyway, but not from anybody I hang out with, none of them would know. Still, it was obvious that he wanted me to do what I wanted. I explored him, running my hands up and down the length of him. Its a wonderful texture, the skin is soft and velvety, and its amazing how hard it is. I started to be hypnotized by the feel and the look of him, I was so absorbed that I forgot about everything else. My hands were gliding over him. There was a little bead of moisture on the tip and I wondered...so I tasted, just quickly licking it up. He shuddered and said, "Aaaahhh!" really loud.

"Angel," I whispered in my strictest voice, "Weve just started and youre going to have to be quiet," He glared at me. In that moment he was so adorable that I started giggling and I couldnt stop. His eyes glinted sternly at me and it made me laugh even more, but I didnt want to ruin the moment, so I handed him a pillow to bite. He snatched it from me, but I reached down low and cradled a softer part of him in my hand and a dreamy expression came over him and he sighed. I loved that, I loved being able to make him feel things like that. It made me want to do all kinds of things to him. I slid down so my mouth was closer to him, and I actually felt my mouth water. It looks ridiculous as I write it, but it really did, my mouth watered. I pressed the length of him against my cheek and looked up at him. He had a beautiful look on his face, somewhere between begging and amazement. I took him in both my hands and stroked him up and down. I had no idea if I was doing it right, but he wasnt getting impatient and I was having fun. I stroked him and every time my hands went down I slipped my tongue over the tip. He moaned. He tasted nice, squeaky clean, of course. I inched closer, so I could take the tip in my mouth. It was a pretty fearless thing to do, I could just get my mouth around it. I dont know if I was acting on instinct or what, but after a while it just seemed right to caress him with my tongue, just gliding and flicking it wetly over the tip of him while I stroked. He started to moan very low in a rhythm with my strokes, and I got so excited, I wanted...I wanted to make him unbearably happy. I craned my head sideways so I could keep him in my mouth but I could look up at him. I saw his eyes glimmer back at me in the dark, his mouth was open, he was watching me. I stroked harder, pulling on him, and I moved my tongue in wider movements, bigger arcs. "Buffy-Buffy-Buffy-" he was whispering, and I dont know what made me try it, but I slid my mouth down onto him deeper, moving my tongue underneath. He tensed all over and he took my face in his hands, pushing my mouth away. I didnt understand, but I didnt want him to be unhappy...maybe he didnt like what I was doing...and then he jerked in my hands and I went with his motion, and then a little cold flow spurted over my fingers. I crooned...I wanted it. My mouth fell on my hands and on him, licking it up. It was creamy and intensely salty, with a faint tinge of sweetness. He was shaking and his fingers caressed my face. I felt so wonderful. I loved being able to give him that. His hands were stroking my hair, then pulling me up, his arms went around me, tight. I pressed my face into his neck, inhaling him. I recognized the scent: Ivory soap. He pulled the covers over us. I woke up. It was sudden. There I was, awake, and none of it had really happened. It was disorienting, and wiggy. I feel a little better now, I think I can get back to sleep, except now I miss him worse. And my panties are soaked.

Buffys Diary October 9, 1997

Timeline: (Between the episodes, Inca Mummy Girl and Reptile Boy) In the beginning of Reptile Boy Buffy tells Willow shes dreamt of Angel three nights in a row. This is the second dream.

OK....it's getting a little scary. Just like last night, I wake up bolt upright, sweaty, not sure what's real and what's not, if I'm still dreaming or not...I have to turn on the light and get out my diary and start writing before the the feeling will go away. I heard this expression somewhere: a dream within a dream. How does that work? It messes with your head, I know that...I'm so used to knowing what's real and what isn't even when other people don't. Even when that little boy brought nightmares into Sunnydale from his coma it didn't trip me up too much. I never get lost. I always know where I am. What is with these dreams and how is it that MY imagination comes up with them? My fantasies aren't even like this. So, anyway: I was dreaming that I was asleep. I jolted awake in bed. I saw his shadow on the windowsill and all the tension went out of me. "Hey," he said. "Hey," I croaked, "What's going on?" I blinked, wondering if there was another situation brewing, wondering what he was going to warn me about now. He gave a velvety chuckle, "Watching you sleep," he said. "Sometimes. It relaxes me," He said. He sounded embarrassed, "Do you mind it?" "No," I said. "Sure?" "What-having my own personal demon-killing body guard? No, I really don't mind," "I don't stay for long, usually," he said, rising from the windowsill, "I just like to check up on you, make sure everything's OK," he sat on the foot of the bed, "Is it?"

"Mmmmmm," I stretched, pushing the covers down a bit, "Yeah...so, sometimes you stay and watch me longer than other times?" "Sometimes," "Like when?" "Like..." he paused, "When it's hot and you kick the covers off," he said, "And you roll over and the light falls on your face...when you wear those little shorts to bed and you sleep on your stomach...and sometimes, when you're dreaming, you say my name," He was trailing his fingers across my hand. "I do?" I knew it was true. "Sometimes you crunch a pillow between your legs when you're sleeping, and I watch you moving against it," he said, "And you say my name, and little beads of sweat come up on your upper lip or on the back of your neck, sometimes your hair sticks to your face-" "Ewww," I said. "No," he said somberly, "It's beautiful. It's so beautiful. I love to watch your body move against the pillow, the way you roll your hips, the way you push into it, and I can hear you breathing harder and you make these little noises, you sound like a dove cooing, and I know you're dreaming about me. It's the most amazing thing in the world," "And you just sit there and watch me?" He was quiet. I said, "What do you do while this is going on?" "I don't wake you up," "Do you come into bed with me?" "No, I don't want to wake you," "Do you stay on the windowsill?" "Sometimes," "And other times?" "Sometimes I come over next to the bed and watch you," "You just watch?"

"Well...yeah," "I'll make a deal with you," I said. "I'll talk you through one of my dreams, and I'll do what I do when I'm dreaming about you, if you'll do what you usually do," "I-" he gazed at me. He lowered his eyes, almost shyly. He looked down at my hand. "Angel," I asked him, "Do you-do you touch yourself while you watch me?" He hesitated. "Yes," He admitted. The air went out of me, it was such an exciting thought. I touched his cheek. "I want to watch you, too," I said. He looked up at me and his eyes were sharper. "Go back over there," I said. He went back to the windowsill. While he went I did an evil thing and slipped my panties off under my nightshirt, I undid most of the buttons, too, so anything I wanted to show him I could show him just by rolling over or moving. I waited a minute, just laying on my pillow, and then started to kick the covers off, gradually, like when I'm sleeping. I finally kicked them off the foot of the bed and I rolled onto my back and twisted so that the nightshirt slipped away from one of my breasts. "I'm dreaming that you're kissing me," I said. "Your mouth, your tongue always taste good, I love it when you push your tongue into my mouth," I licked my lips and opened my mouth on the air, I shifted so that the edge of my nightshirt was brushing back and forth over my exposed nipple, "You're touching my nipple with your fingers, you're tickling me," I pretended it was happening and my heart started to beat faster. I heard him walk across the room and settle on the floor next to the bed. I twisted, and the silk fell away from my other breast, "Ooooo, you're tickling both of them," I breathed, "Oh, it's so nice, I love it so much," I was shifting but the nightshirt had fallen away and I couldn't rub my nipples against anything, I just undulated on the bed, "They're so sensitive, I love the way you tease them, the way you just barely touch them, ohhhh, Angel, touch them, tease me..." I begged. I wasn't putting on an act, I was feeling it. I heard his belt buckle come undone. I rolled over and rubbed my face against the pillow. I twisted so the nightshirt rode up, inching over my legs, and finally stopped so it was just covering my behind, with just the very bottom of a cheek exposed, and I started to move on my stomach, nudging my hips into the bed a little, and the nightshirt came up higher, then back down, then even higher. I heard his zipper come down. I was dying to peek but I didn't want to ruin it. I pushed my legs far apart and slid backward, and the nightshirt came up even more. I knew he could see half of the shadow

between my legs. I turned my head just in time to watch him reach down and wrap his hand around his hardness, easing it out of his pants. I felt a trickle start inside me, seeing that, in a minute I would be wet. His eyes were narrowed as if he were sleepy, his mouth was open. "Mmmm, your fingers," I said, and I slid backward so the nightshirt completely uncovered me, "Your fingers are touching me where I'm wet, I'm so wet I'm slippery, and your fingers are stroking me," I rolled over again, and the last button on the nightshirt slipped loose, I was completely uncovered except for my arms in the sleeves. "Oh, Buffy," he sighed in a whisper. I rolled my hips a little. Even in the dream I was amazed at myself, at how much I loved this. I thrashed a little, wriggling the last of the silk off of me, and I grabbed a pillow, pushing it down between my legs. "I'm so hot inside, I'm aching," I whined, "You're slipping your finger inside me, just a little at first," I had to pause, because I was out of breath, "I'm so wet, Angel, I want you inside me, you push your finger inside me," my voice was climbing. I crushed the pillow in my thighs and jerked down on it, "Ohhh, and you're rubbing me, too, that little place, and you give me another finger inside...your fingers are so big, you can feel me throbbing around them, I knowyoucanfeelit....your fingers go so deep, and you're pushing them apart, making them wider," I had to stop to get air, "...And then, then you ease your fingers out and you flip me over and take my hips in your hands and you slide inside me..." and then I was losing it, I opened my eyes and saw his hand gliding over that incredibly long hardness and I thought about how it would feel, all the muscles in my body clenched and I was crying out, driving against the pillow. "Angel! I love you inside me, you're pushing me apart, you're so deep!" I was convulsing then, jamming myself against the pillow where I needed it, knowing he was watching me, knowing what it did to him. My body shook with the force of it, imagining him inside me and watching him, seeing how thick and tall it was...I screeched and shuddered as the the heat of it swept through me. I laid there for a minute when it was over. I was panting, the muscles in my legs jumping and tensing in release. I watched him. He was stroking faster, but strongly, gripping himself hard. His motions were so graceful, his eyes were fixed on me. He made something that I'd always giggled about look absolutely elegant. I slid off the bed and crawled to him on all fours. He slowed his motions. "No," I whispered, "Keep doing it, just like you were, please? I want to watch you," His eyes hooked into mine and he resumed, his hand moving in long, strong strokes along it, it was rigid and so thick, it was beautiful. He was beautiful all over. "Someday you'll be ready," he said softly, "When you're ready I'll give you everything you want. When you want me inside you, my life will start all over again," He said it with so much tenderness that I had to kiss him. I loved watching his eyes, the way he let me see everything, how good it felt. I touched the tip of him and a little string of moisture came

away on my finger. I reached lower and cupped the softer part of him in my hand, gently holding him, and I bent my head and lapped at the tip, moisture seeping freely from my mouth, I was feeling greedy. I took as much as I could in my mouth and moved with him. His body went rigid, he gritted his teeth. "Buffy," he rocked with each stroke now, "BuffyBuffy-" "Give it to me," I whispered, "I want to taste it, give it to me," His head shot back and the first little jet spilled over my hand. I took him in my mouth again and felt it flood over my tongue, how do you imagine a taste in a dream? Creamy, salty, sweet...I could really develop a craving for it, and it wasn't even real. He made a series of soft little cries that died out, and then he moaned. He pulled me against him. We kissed. "You are so beautiful," I told him. I was naked in his arms. He held me in his lap, his arms under my knees and cradling my back. He kissed my cheeks and the tip of my nose. He lifted me and took me to my bed. He was fixing the pillows. I stopped him so I could zip his pants back up for him, and I buckled his belt. He watched me, smiling. He put me in the bed and pulled the covers over me. "Maybe once in a while you should wake me up," I said. "Maybe I will, once in a while," he said. I jumped in my skin. I was startled, and awake. I was naked, and I had a pillow between my legs. I sat up and looked around. He wasn't here. I was drenched in sweat. Then I felt this cold loneliness creep over me. I guess I really do wish he would watch me sleep. I actually felt tears start, but I didn't go with them. It was a sharp feeling of emptiness. I need to start getting a grip. I've got it bad, really bad. The dreams are great, but it's a bad sign to think about a boy this much. In my dreams, I have him, he's mine. In my dreams we have the understanding that we're TOGETHER. I don't even know that for sure, he's never said anything about a relationship or anything. We've never even seen each other except when it's necessary. Well, not necessary for him, a million times he could have just walked away and didn't, but I'm reading too much into this....or am I? I know he likes me, I know he wants me...but if he wants me so bad then where has he been all week? And why don't I ever see him unless there's a situation to deal with? I guess it's nice to have intense, mind-altering dreams. It's the loneliness afterwards that I'd like to skip.

Buffys Diary October 10, 1997

Timeline: (Between the episodes, Inca Mummy Girl and Reptile Boy) In the beginning of Reptile Boy Buffy tells Willow she's dreamt of Angel three nights in a row. This is the third dream.

This is it. This is going to be the last one because I am over it. I don't know what I'll do, but I'll do something. Why can't I have a Cordelia dream just once? A designer dream. One thing, though. I could tell Mom about this one, that I dreamed that Angel was helping me with my history. Sometimes I fall asleep on my bed with the light on and a book on my chest. I get back from patrol and I'm tired, but I figure if I study a little before I fall asleep some of it might sink in. Then I wake up later and it's four in the morning and the light is on and I have all my clothes on. A knock woke me up. My eyes were stung by the light in the room, I was confused. "Angel?" "I saw the light on," He said."What are you doing up? It's late," I rubbed my eyes. The book fell off my chest. "Did you fall asleep studying?" he asked. He was beaming at me. "Uhhhmmm, yeah," I started to get up. "Don't-don't, I'll put you to bed," he said. "What time is it?" "It's after three. Did you hunt for a long time?" "Mmmm, no, quiet night,"

He picked up the book. "Civil war," he said, with a tinge of bitterness. I stretched and yawned, "You were here, then, weren't you?" "In America? Yes," he was unlacing my sneakers. He stopped and went to turn off the overhead light and my bedside lamp. The only light was from the little lamp on my dresser, it made the room softer. He returned to the bed and took my sneakers off, gently slipping them off my feet as if they were satin slippers or something. "What was it like?" "The war? It was a war. All wars are bad," "One specific thing would be nice," I said, "I am studying it," "Demons have a heyday in wartime," he said, "They manipulate humans more easily, they get away with appalling things. It was bloody. Battlefields. Prisoners of war. Poverty. You have to see it, to know what it's like. For humans now, that war is in books. And it erradicated a greater evil. But I saw some of the suffering...and it was unconscionable," He stopped talking and pulled my socks off slowly. He ran his fingers over my toes, smiling. "How can your toes be so little?" he asked me. I was shifting uncomfortably. "Little and stinky," I said. "Are they?" he pressed my feet to his face, rubbing his nose back and forth over my toes, and I struggled. "Angel, stop it!" He fixed his eyes on me. "So, how well do you know it?" "Well, I'm making the major effort. Test tomorrow, '" "Let's see how accurate your book is," He opened the book, skimming it quickly. I was amazed by how fast he was flipping through it. "Wow!" I said, "Speed reading?"

He looked puzzled, "What?" "It's just...you read really fast," He snorted, "It's been a hobby for a couple of hundred years. Plus, I read the headlines the first time," "Oh," Of course, duh, I thought. He leaned over me and his thumb brushed my cheek, "Kiss for every correct answer," "Oh, a pop quiz! I've never liked those before," "People who opposed slavery," he said. I knew that one. "Abolitionists," He kissed me, still stroking my cheek, pushing my lips apart with his. I opened my mouth and nudged the tip of his tongue with mine. He brought his mouth down on mine again and dipped his tongue, and I had to grab more air, I was so easily excited by him. "Name of the Southern army," he took the zipper tab from my sweatshirt in his fingers. "Ummmm, The Confederate Army," he unzipped my sweatshirt. He lifted me to a sit and pulled it off me. He slipped his hand up the back of my neck and brought my mouth to his and kissed me again. "Led by General....." He stood behind me and gently pulled the elastic out of my hair. "Robert E. Lee," He came back from the dresser with my brush. "These are too easy," he said. He stroked my hair off my neck with the brush, and I shivered. "States that susceeded after the fall of Fort Sumpter," "Angel, that's too hard," He stopped brushing and leaned toward me, his lips just under my ear. "The fall of Sumpter was pivotal," he said softly, "Kiss for each correct state," "I can't believe how mean you are," "I bet you know them," I sighed, "Arkansas...."

He kissed my ear delicately, and waited. "Tennessee....Virginia......" my voice went up, because he was kissing down my neck, "....uh..." He rested his mouth in the hollow of my shoulder, "....North..." he prompted. "Oooo, Carolina," I crooned. He put the brush on the night stand. "General Lee gave two farewell addresses. Arms up," he said, pulling off my T-shirt. In the dream he was so casual about it, but I was feeling very warm, "To which two parties?" "The Confederate Army," "Oops. No, now we have to start over," "Wait! Wait, ummm...to the Army of Northern Virginia," He kissed my mouth. "Angel!" I whined. "Those are the rules, Buffy. You miss one, we have to start over. But that's one right," I glared at him. "And the farewell address to the President," He snickered, "You want the extra point?" "Yes!" I pouted, "President Jefferson Davis," He dipped his tongue in my mouth deeply and ran his hands up my back. I was only wearing a bra and I had never been undressed in front of him like this before, but in the dream he was acting like it happened every day. "Name the major turning point in the war," He put his lips on my ear again. "The battle of Gettysburg," He kissed my ear, but several times, little kisses all over. "Who won that battle?" "The Union Army under Ulysses S. Grant. Do I get two points?" "Yes, you do," He pushed me back into the pillow. He took the waistband of my sweatpants in his hands and slipped them over my hips. He peeled them off my legs, then he scooted back up and took my face tenderly in his hands. He slowly trailed kisses down my throat. I sighed and reached up to stroke his cheek.

"How many days did the battle last?" "July 1st through July 3rd, 1863," He gently slipped my bra straps over my shoulders and began to kiss under my throat, creeping down. He took little mouthfuls of the flesh on my chest, trailing his tongue quickly in each one. "Oh!" I said. "The President's speech?" he said. "Lincoln's Gettysburg Address," I said, and his hands slipped under my back. My bra released, but he didn't pull it off. He inched it downward with his mouth, kissing, and I don't know how I remembered it, "Fourscore and seven years ago....our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and .....and dedicated to the proposition that....that all men are created-AH!" He was kissing so close to my nipple that I completely lost touch for a minute. "Very good," he said softly, "That same year Mary Todd Lincoln talked her husband into signing a document not only for political reasons, but as a matter of right," He took my bra in his teeth and pulled it away, tossing it on the floor with a jerk of his head. His tongue peeked between his lips and he poised his mouth over my left nipple, looking up at me. "That's a trick question! She was a wacko!" "You know it," he murmured, his eyes fixed on my nipple, his head turned a little, his mouth circling it without touching. He was waiting. "The...the..." I was panting in little gusts, I was trying to think, but he licked his lips and I thought I was going to lose it, then it came to me, "The Emancipation Proclamation?" He looked me in the eye and smiled, and then drew a slow, wet circle around the edge of my nipple with his tongue. I shook all over, I could not believe what I was feeling, my entire body arched toward him. "It's so good...it's so good..." I was saying, without meaning to. He moved his tongue slowly over the tip of my other nipple and the room disappeared. I knew my nipples were very sensitive but I had no idea what he could do to me. His tongue kept circling and gliding, along with his fingers. He took one in his mouth and drew on it, flicking his tongue, and brushed his fingertips carefully across the other one and suddenly a cry came out of me and I had no control over it and then my body contracted harshly inside and I was thrashing under him. One of his hands was on my face, palm to cheek, and his thumb was on my mouth very lightly, as if he wanted to feel my lips move. My mouth was dry from breathing so hard. He released my nipple and kissed my mouth, scooping his tongue in sweetly. My fingers went through his hair greedily. Finally I calmed a little. "Which General later became President of the United States?" "Grant,"

"And a shame it was," he said. He was rubbing his nose on my stomach, nuzzling. "Why?" "He was incredibly corrupt. He owned five slaves of his own at one time. He was a drunk. He headed one of the most corrupt administrations this country has ever seen," "Really?" I was still reeling, but I wanted to hear him. He laughed softly against my stomach, "We're not getting much covered here....Where was the Confederate Government formed?" He was heading for my belly button, nipping me. "M....Mont..." He looked up. "Are we going to have to start over?" "Montgomery, Alabama?" His tongue dipped gently into my belly button, and then began to slip lower. "What was the Confederate Constitution based on?" "The-ahh" he was licking a line from my belly button slowly down and my breath caught, "The Constitution of the United States," "With how many major modifications?" He stopped just above my panties. "Angel!" "Do you want to start over?" "Fi-four!" "Close...but you got it," I slid my fingers into his hair again. In the dream it was so easy, I wasn't shy or afraid at all, I just wanted him. "Give me a basic run down of those modifications," "Angel, I can't believe you're being so mean!" "Won't it be on the test?" I sighed, "It might be," "Do you know them?" He took the lace edge of my panties in his fingers and paused, ready to pull them off. I felt a tiny movement between my legs, I was wet.

"Each State would act independently...when it came to the general welfare...?" He slid my panties down a bit and kissed my belly. "Ummm....guaranteed slavery," He slipped the panties all the way off me and put his mouth back on my belly, moving down. "No tariffs," I blurted. He was kissing my thigh and pushing my legs apart. My mind hit a blank. "Oh....ummmm," His kisses crept up the inside of my thigh, he pushed my legs apart even more. "Ohhhh," He pressed his mouth between my legs and rubbed his lips back and forth over me. He looked up, waiting. "I can't wait to kiss you," he murmured. I was nearly in tears. "Ummm,..." "Hint?" "Oh, please!" "President's term...." "Reduced to 6 months!" His mouth opened and his tongue dipped between my legs. My back contracted, the muscles bunching almost violently. His tongue was soft and cool and nimble, it circled and flicked and tantalized, it dipped deeper, I was clutching handfuls of sheet and slowly going insane. He took that one little place between his lips and his tongue danced over it, and I felt the scream come out of my throat before I heard it. I was jerking onto him, it was the most amazing feeling I'd ever had, it was so good it was almost unbearable, like when you get held down and tickled and it's really harsh, except you'd beg for more. Wetness was flowing out of me. He kept doing it, I was almost afraid he'd stop, but then his finger was there and stroking deeper, then pushing, and then slipping inside me and my body wrapped around his finger and I had to scream again, over and over, it took me over completely. I was trembling then, I felt soft and a little exposed. He slid up the bed next to me and laid beside me, pulling me into his arms. He kissed me, holding my face in his hands. My arms were around him and I was gripping him, hard. "I want you," I said. He knew what I meant. "When the time's right,"

"Life is short," I said, "I'm not going to live forever, you know," A shadow crossed his face, as if I'd said something cruel. He looked as if I'd slapped him. I realized what I'd said and I felt so awful, but he crushed me to him. "It's not all it's cracked up to be," he said. I woke up. I was hugging a pillow. The book was on the floor. All the lights were on. I had all my clothes on, but of course, my panties were soaked again. I am getting really sick of these dreams. I've got to do something...I've got to take action here. If he is avoiding me I've got to find out now and move on with my life. This is STUPID. It's so ridiculous! It's obsessive, and I don't want to be obsessive, I've got enough to worry about. I have to be the Slayer but I don't have to be some vampire's groupie. OK, he's not just some vampire, but this is beyond lame. I have a life, I have friends, I should be dreaming about shopping, this is not sane at all. I'm sick of this. I've got to have it out with him. Either he wants to see me, or not, but this has got to stop. I think I love him. Screw it, I'm asking him out. If he says no, I'll just go back to Christian Slater.

Buffys Diary October 12-14, 1997

Timeline: 3 Entries: The night before, the night of and the night after the frat party in the episode Reptile Boy

10/12/97 "I'm just trying to protect you," "We both know one thing's going to lead to another," "Things could get out of control," "This isn't some fairy tale,"

Over it....SO over it!!! I can't believe I let myself get into him like that! What's wrong with me? He's not interested. He's just not. Not enough, anyway. I don't care if his intentions are honorable, I'm not playing with Barbies anymore. If he cared he would want me anyway. He probably likes his women a little older so he can relate to them and WHY am I crying, this is STUPID. Fine. Fine, he can come around and tell me about danger and show up once in a while to help out and be beautiful and then IGNORE me. Fine. BUT I am not someone he can ignore and then come around expecting attention from. NOT. It's not exactly like I could never get a date. I got asked out today. By a college guy. Not some "kid"...a college MAN. Who, incidentally, has really pretty blue eyes and is very charming and who wants me, ME to go to a party. Actually, I have little interest in frat parties, but that is not the point. Point is, life is not an amusement park where you have to be "this" tall or "this" old to get on the ride. I am on the ride. "Fairy tale." That really hurt. What does he think I expect? Has he seen me Slay? Is that something just anybody can do, or am I a freak to him, too, just a kid with good killing technique, somebody to protect and feel sorry for? And anyway, am I so immature? And why is Giles tripping on me? He's never been this harsh before. He's my Watcher, not my dictator. He keeps trying to throw me punches and I keep taking him down and it doesn't even matter to him how good I am. He's just like every other grownup sometimes...he's not happy unless I'm roped into the stall and chewing on a cud that HE gave me. He's not happy unless I'm unhappy. And it has nothing to do with Slaying, why is it that everybody else in the universe is an expert on the one thing that only I can do? I feel like a prize pony sometimes, throw her in the ring and watch her do her tricks, then sit back and criticize like you own her. Nobody owns me. Nobody else can Slay. They just wish they could, so they try to own a piece of it. Grownups!!! And that includes Angel. I really let myself get drawn in. He's chickened out. He might be old, but he's acting just like a boy. And I even told him how I felt when he kissed me. Like he deserved that information. Or maybe I'm not interesting enough. I would never let another boy treat me like this. I am not crying anymore. I am going to just chill. And I am going to sleep now.

10/13/97 Nice of Cordy to drop me off. It was nice to get out of her car. Sometimes I wonder if they should replace capital punishment with a Cordelia discussion group. That was mean. But

spending so much quality time with her has really been a lesson in appreciation. If I ever have the slightest twinge around Willow (never) I'll remember this delightful evening. Tom Warner. God, I know NOTHING about men! Nothing! What a creep deluxe! I am so mad at myself that I didn't see that coming. That ought to teach me. I heard two senior girls talking in the girl's bathroom one day, and one of them said, "Get 'em young, treat 'em rough and don't tell 'em anything,". At this point, that sounds like a plan. Me and older guys....UGH! It was still nice of Angel to show up and everything, and Willow told me about how he was going to go anyway, just to help out those girls, he didn't even know I was there at first. I'm glad he knows now. I know he got the game face when he knew I was in trouble, but still....I wonder if it's occurred to him that I'm old enough to kill a snake demon, I'm old enough to at least get ASKED to frat things, I wonder if it's sunk in that I'm not TEN. I know he cares, I know it....but he has got to drop the "fairy tale" thing. GOD that made me mad! I'm still mad. It looks like him and Giles have both mellowed out a little, though...who said acting out doesn't work? Sometimes it's the only way to get through to people. I always seem to be trying to justify myself...it's not like I get any of the privileges of responsibility, I just get the WORK. I was really glad to see him, though. Too glad. And I love Giles so much. He's important to me in a way that's hard to explain. I feel closer to him than I do to my DAD. I tell him more, obviously, but not just vampire stuff. Me stuff. He really understands me. I really need him. We're basically family, because we'll be linked until one of us dies, that's just how it works. We're connected. And underneath the tweed and the brain there's a really cool guy. I don't know how long I'll get to exist. Statistically, it's iffy. But I have this cozy little dream sometimes...just sometimes...that Giles is like in his sixties and I'm in my thirties (yike!) and we get to keep going. It's stupid to dream big like that, but I do...and there's someone else in those dreams, too.... Who I don't need to think about right now because I am tired and I have reptile slime on my good slingbacks. Ick.

10/14/97 Met Will and Xand at the Bronze, and he showed up. He asked me if I wanted to get coffee, and I really kept a cool head. I told him sometime, and that I'd let him know. And then I left. I was in serious need of some dignity. It worked. I feel better.

This is the part I hate, though, the when-do-I-ask-him part. I have a feeling he'll be a little easier to find this coming week, but I'm not going to go drooling over him. I really should make him wait. For at least a day. A day. What am I thinking....at least two weeks! Let him sweat it out. I did. But I'm not going to be able to. In a way, I really feel like he owes me an explanation. He really should tell me up front if he wants to date or not. I deserve that. Cryptic gets tedious. Undead or not. I know he wants to....but I need to know if he's going to commit to it, if he's going to be able to say to me, "We're dating," out loud, and stick with it. He's very beautiful and everything but if he's gutless about relationships then I need to know, I don't want us to get into it and have him ditch me again just because he's two centuries old. He'd be cradle-robbing if he dated my grandmother. Nobody living is ever going to be in his age bracket anyway, and that is not my fault. I hate this anxious, fluttery feeling in my chest. I get it when I think about seeing him. Well, maybe he'll show up at a cemetery. And then I'll ask him out for coffee. Or I'll let him ask me. That's always better, to make them ask, because it makes them conceited when you ask them. I have learned one thing from this, though: he is a guy. He acts like a guy. Two-hundred and twenty-four years haven't given him the edge on that. He might be wise and smart and really strong, but when it comes down to it he's a MALE and therefore subject to certain laws of male behavior. Which makes me feel better.

Buffys Diary October 29, 1997

Timeline: Two weeks went by between Reptile Boy and Halloween. This entry is from the night before Angel and Buffy's date at the Bronze in the episode, Halloween.

I finally saw him. It's been almost two weeks. The original plan, I guess, but I was so glad to see him, I had to keep calming myself. I wanted to throw my arms around him. I was glad I made him wait, but I think he suffered enough.

He was leaning against a tall tombstone, looking up at the moon. I came up behind him as quietly as I could, trying to sneak up, but a leaf crunched under my foot. He spun around as gracefully as a cat, ready to fight, and then he smiled at me. "Hey," "Hey," I said, "You hunting?" "Thought maybe you might be," "I'm in patrol mode," I said, "You looked like you were pretty deep in thought there," He smiled wider, "Not too deep, trust me," We stood there and for a minute and it was really awkward. We were both shifting our feet and fidgeting. "You OK...after the other night?" "Yeah, fine. Ruined my shoes...reptile blood stains," "Oh," he said, "Nice job on the demon, though," "Thanks," I had to smile. It's nice to have a compliment once in a while. "So...you wanna have coffee with me?" I was in full grin now. I loved the way he didn't waste any more time. "Yeah. Sure. When?" "How about tomorrow night?" "It's a date," I said, and then I realized what I'd said. We stared at each other. "I mean..." I said, "...Right?" "Yeah," he said, his eyes were locked into mine, "It's a date." Then we were walking together. I'm not sure who started walking first but we were walking together. I looked up at him and watched the shadows moving across his face and I thought about how I feel around him, lighter, I actually feel light and a little giddy, almost. I'll have to watch that.

"So. What were you thinking about, when I walked up?" I sat on a bench and he came down beside me. "Penny for your thoughts," I said. He chuckled. "Do you like English much?" "It's my native language," "I mean, literature," "Some of it," I said, "You mean, like poetry and stuff?" "Yeah. Poetry and stuff," "Well, I carried around a book of Emily Dickinson once. Of course, Slaying interfered," "You don't have much downtime," he said. There was a small silence. "So-don't leave me hanging here. What about poetry?" "Some things are better said in that form, that's all. Of course it depends on the poet," I slid over closer to him. "So-who do you like?" "I used to have a real thing about Byron," "You should read me some, sometime," He looked up at the sky. "'He thought about himself, and the whole earth, of man the wonderful, and of the stars,'" he stood up, still looking, and stepped away a little, "'And how the deuce they ever could have birth;'" he turned slightly on one foot, "'And then he thought of earthquakes and of wars, how many miles the moon might have in girth,'" he glanced at me with a little smile and continued, "'Of air balloons and of the many bars to perfect knowledge of the boundless skies,'" he lowered his chin and leveled his eyes at me, "'And then...he thought of Buffy's eyes,*'" My breath caught for a second, but he was laughing at himself. "Corny, hunh?" I wasn't thinking that. "But my name isn't in that poem," I said, actually half-hoping that it might be.

"No," he said. "The name in the poem is Donna Julia. But it wasn't her eyes I was thinking about," I went to him and put my arms around him. A breeze came up and the trees were hissing above us. His hands moved up my back and around me. He can almost wrap his arms around me twice. I looked up at him. He kissed my nose and pressed his forehead against mine. We swayed together, just looking into each other. All that had happened, all the things we'd done to each other, suddenly became clear, fell into place. I knew why he'd avoided me, what he was afraid of. He knew why I had acted out, why I was always pretending that he wasn't that important to me. It was all there when we looked at each other. We didn't say anything. I've never been able to look into somebody's eyes that long before, I always get uncomfortable after a while, but it's different with him. It's almost like we're talking, it's a conversation, sort of. Without having to think of anything to say. It's just all there. But I wanted a kiss. I slipped my arms around his neck and tilted my head, closing my eyes. His mouth came onto mine softly . I opened my mouth and curled my tongue under his. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me, the kind of kiss I hadn't had in literally weeks, that deep, hungry kind of kiss, and I actually stumbled because my knees went out from under me. He lifted me in his arms and then stood there for a minute, looking around. He turned in a circle, searching. It struck me as funny and I giggled. He finally sat me on the top of a big, thick tombstone that was high enough so we could kiss. He stood right up against me between my legs and planted his mouth on my mouth and my hands slid up his chest. He felt so good, solid and cool, he smelled very faintly of some kind of a spice but I couldn't figure out what it was. I love to run my hands up his stomach, over his chest and under his arms, feeling the curves and dips of his body. He took my chin in his fingers and thumb and put his lips against mine and paused, just resting there. I waited, wondering what he was doing. I breathed a little puff of breath onto his face. He moved his head back and forth so slightly it was almost hard to feel, but our lips were moving against each other, and I could feel his warming from touching mine. He nudged his mouth a tiny bit harder against me. A kind of wave moved over me, I tried to pull him closer, but he kept the same distance between us. One of his fingertips rested on the edge of my lower lip. He pulled my lip a tiny way down and touched the tender inner side with his tongue and slowly stroked his tongue across in a fluid motion, then back, then across again, then again. I could actually feel it in other places when he did that. I made an higher sound than I've heard myself make before, a trembly one. I ran my hand lightly over him and my fingers brushed across his nipple and I could feel it standing up. I panted onto his face again. He nibbled at my lip very gently. I was caressing his face with my fingers, tracing his cheekbone. He dipped his tongue into my mouth and I took it, stroking it with mine. I took one of his hands and put it just under my throat, on my chest. I knew how foreword that was but I also knew that I was dying for him to touch me. He left his hand there for a time, just moving his fingertips on the skin under my throat. I took his hand and moved it

down, so it was resting on the upper curve of my chest. He sighed and pressed his cheek to mine. "Buffy," he said, and I could feel it, that he was overwhelmed for a minute. He leaned against me, shivering, his other hand holding my face and pressing it to his. He kept holding me like that. We rocked together. Sometimes it seems like he wants every little moment to go on forever. I thought about that for a minute and it calmed me. I thought, if I were him, I'd probably want that, too. I moved his hand a little lower and pressed it against me. He moaned. I held his hand on me, stroking his fingers with my thumb. He cupped me in his hand, so gently, for a long time, then his hand began to circle, just moving around the curve, he was looking at me and his eyes were full of something like awe. He kissed my cheek, gazing at me, and his hand circled again. I was starting to get warm. I felt my nipples stand up, and I know he saw them, but he just traced the shape of me, leaving them alone. His hand felt graceful and it moved so smoothly, I looked at him and he was lost in it. I shifted under him, I wondered if he was going to touch my nipples and I was starting to want him to, badly. He didn't, but his fingers moved in tightening circles around them, feather-light, until he was almost tracing them. He lifted his hand, taking mine, and kissed my palm. He slipped his hand around my back and crushed me against him. We held each other. "So," I said, pulling away a little, I was dizzy, "When was Byron all the rage?" He lifted me off the tombstone and set me on the ground. We were walking together again. "He was big around the time I was changed-early 19th century," "So...which period of history did you like the best?" I asked. "They all had redeeming qualities. It depends on what I was doing. It's not the world so much, it's what you do in it," "So which did you like doing better?" "I liked being human," he said, "Most of the time. I liked Ireland. I loved Ireland. I can't remember any time as a demon as something I liked, even though at the time, I did. I had no conscience, so everything I remember from that time is marked. It's all bad," "And-America?" "I came here to get away from everything I'd done in Europe, and other places. It was newer then, you could get lost here," "You can still get lost here,"

"Not like then. Everybody had a new name, everybody was starting over. It was different," He stopped walking and looked at me. He ran the back of his hand over my cheek. "This has got to be boring you to tears," he said. "Not," I said. "Anyway, the best part-" he stopped. "Was what?" "Is..." he stopped. His smile started at one corner of his mouth and crept across, "I'll tell you all about it sometime," Date. He said it out loud, looking me in the eye. We have an actual date. I'm going to meet him at the Bronze. For coffee. I'll have to thank Willow for her suggestion, even if it bombed at first. It feels so much better now, to at least be talking, to have a date. I wonder how much he used to date. I bet the girls were all over him. I've always been afraid to ask him that, because I'm afraid he's had like a thousand girlfriends and I don't want to know. Women are different now than they used to be, I wonder what that's like for him? I love those dresses in movies like "Sense and Sensibility", women used to be a lot more....feminine, I guess. Has he dated since he got his soul back? He liked being human, he loved Ireland. I wonder what the girls were like? *From the poem Don Juan, by Lord Byron

Buffy's Diary November 1, 1997 Part 1

Timeline: Just after Halloween

"I always wished I could meet someone exciting...." he looked at me and his face opened in a big smile, "...Interesting," It throws me when he smiles like that, his whole face changes, it's like the sun coming up when the sky turns all different colors. Even his eyes light up. It takes my breath away. "Really?" I said, "Interesing...how?"

"You know how," "Still," I said, "I've had a really hard day. You should probably tell me," He laughed, "You're right, I should," He kissed me. How do I describe the way he kisses? Like he's hungry. For me. But, not the bad kind. He pushed me back into the pillows and then crawled up over me on his hands and knees. He was stroking my hair and looking me in the eye. His eyes go right through me every time he does that. "So....?" I said. I couldn't help it. "It's interesting that you're so strong," he said. "Oh....yeah?" I guess it should have been obvious, but after the melodrama with Xander I wasn't sure that I knew anything about men at all. "Yeah," he said softly. When his voice does that, gets all deep and velvety, it pours right through me, like hot butter over popcorn. I took a deep breath and tried to get a grip. He tossed his head sideways, just a small movement, "For instance, if you wanted to toss me out that window right now, there wouldn't be a whole lot I could do about it," "Well...." I thought about Xander again, "It would be pretty close," He laughed. His eyes were shining. "Not that close, Buffy. You're the Slayer. You have power over me. That's the deal," I was feeling uncomfortable. He ran his fingers over my cheek, so gently, "Buffy, I really like that," he breathed. I laughed. "OK, so I can kick your butt if I want, and that's a turn-on?" "Absolutely." he smiled again, "But you're not a cruel person. You're a kind person. You care. That's a big part of it, too. And you're smart. And you're-" his eyes were moving over me, "You're so beautiful, Buffy," his eyes were overflowing, like they were full of me. I could see myself in them. I pulled his face down to kiss me. Then I started thinking about Mom. Back late, and probably drunk again, so she wouldn't check in. I just wanted to take my time. I just wanted to be with him. I love his cool mouth. He tastes good. I wouldn't ever have thought that kissing a vampire would be a fresh experience, but Angel is so clean. He always smells good, he always has nice breath, there's always little parts of him I want to check out, like the back of his neck, like his hands. I think about him all the time. If he knew that....... He slid one arm under me and lifted me up, moving me onto the center of the bed. he sat up on his knees. He's even tall from his knees.

He looked at the clock, and then at me. "School night," he said, and started to get up. "Umm," I grabbed him by his belt, "Not unless I say it is, big guy," I gotta admit it, it's a good feeling. I know I could keep him on the bed if I wanted to. I wanted to.

Buffy's Diary November 1, 1997 Part 2

Timeline: Just after Halloween

"School night," he said, and started to get up. "Umm," I grabbed him by his belt, "Not unless I say it is, big guy," I gotta admit it, it's a good feeling. I know I could keep him on the bed if I wanted to. I wanted to. "You've had a long night," he said, "You need your rest," "I'm wide awake," I said. I was. "You won't have to patrol tonight. How many nights like that do you get?" "You really want to get out of here, don't you?" I said, and it was a cheap shot. I was sorry right after I said it. He looked exasperated, and a little confused. I think sometimes, between us, I'm the vampire. I tend to go for the jugular. It's wrong...but sometimes I'm afraid I'll like him just way too much, like I already do like him way too much, and I'll just lose it, dissapear into him, lose all my judgement and self-respect. I've seen girls do it, it's pathetic. But he's not like any other boys, of course, I really think he would never use me or be mean. I'm just scared of losing myself sometimes. He's that beautiful...I could fall into him and never come out again. "I don't want out of here," he said gently, "But I worry sometimes, Buffy. You've got a tough gig. I want you to be safe," "I know," I said, "I'm sorry,"

He smiled at me, "It's OK," he said. He always seems to understand me before I do. That's scary, too. How does he know me so well? He says things that I'm already thinking, a lot. And he's always ready to give me the benefit of the doubt, but he doesn't let me off the hook when he knows I'm wrong. He knows the score, with me. It makes me like him even more. He curled up beside me, he put his arms around me. I love the feel of him through his shirt, he's so lean and firm all over, but he's not hard, because he moves like a cat, he's all smooth against me, he's sleek ...his body molded to mine. I closed my eyes and put my face in his neck and smelled him and I could have stayed there just breathing him in forever, except I needed another kiss. Or several hundred. He kisses....he kisses like he's tasting me and like I'm addictive, it's like I am with hot chocolate, I can't stop sipping it once I start, and he tastes my lips, he rubs his lips over mine very lightly and it makes me nuts. He always kisses my face, too, all over, and my ears, and my neck. He waits sometimes in between kisses and keeps his mouth so close to me that I would feel his breath if he had any, he just stays with his mouth almost on my cheek or my mouth for a long time, so I'm waiting, and I start to move around because I'm waiting and I don't know what he's going to do, and I start to get that feeling, that feeling you get on a ride at the amusement park, out of control and dizzy and like your stomach is lost somewhere. And then finally he'll kiss me, and it's like that rush down the rollercoaster, the air goes out of me, and I have to make a sound out loud. He was doing all of that, and I was starting to breathe really hard. I got embarassed about it, I tried to calm down. He senses everything. He pulled back and stroked my hair. "I should go," he whispered, and I swear I don't know what had a hold of me, but I flipped him over and pinned him. "No, please don't yet," I can't believe I was begging him to stay. I was afraid I'd hate myself later. "Buffy-" I don't know what got into me, but I needed to have my hands on him. I moved my hands through his hair, it's so thick and soft, it's yummy. It's like silk. There's this amazing curve from his shoulders down his arms, it's a rich, rounded curve over the bone, solid, but it gives just enough under the fingers. His chest is smooth and cool like satin, and I was realizing that I needed to slow down....

Buffy's Diary November 1, 1997 Part 3

Timeline: Just after Halloween

I don't know what got into me, but I needed to have my hands on him. I moved my hands through his hair, it's so thick and soft, it's yummy. It's like silk. There's this amazing curve from his shoulders down his arms, it's a rich, rounded curve over the bone, solid, but it gives just enough under the fingers. His chest is smooth and cool like satin, and I was realizing that I needed to slow down.... I pulled away and sat up on the edge of the bed. He moved up beside me. I was feeling really confused. I wanted him to kiss me forever, but I wanted a lot more than that, but I didn't know how I wanted it...or.... really if.... "Buffy," he said. "I'm sorry-" I felt so stupid, "I-I'm-" "There's all kinds of time for all kinds of things," he said. He was so calm, so sweet, he didn't seem to mind at all, it was like nothing. I could feel it, in a way I can always feel it, the way he really only cares about me, just me being OK and happy. He really doesn't mind, I was thinking, and it amazed me. And it made me want him worse. That was the only problem. "I want to kiss you," I said, "And- but - I don't know..." "Nobody has to know everything," he said, "You don't have to know everything about yourself, even. Nobody really does. Being in too much of a hurry is almost never a good thing. Find what you want, and follow that at your own pace, in your own time. That's really the best way. You can't rush things, especially the good things," he was smiling softly. "Well, at least you haven't wasted two centuries memorizing baseball scores," I said, I was gazing at him, I couldn't help it, "You know a lot, you really do," I was touching his face. I could spend hours and hours doing it. He smiled but it was his sad smile, the one I was more used to. It looked even sadder now, after I'd seen the happy one.

"Do you feel sad a lot?" I asked him. He looked at me for a minute. "Not so much anymore," he said. "Did you used to?" He was holding my hands, stroking my fingers. He was looking at my hands. "They're so little," he said. I didn't know if he was going to answer me, or if I shouldn't have asked. Maybe it was rude. I could feel it, his sadness, it was like the sadness of hundreds of people, and he carried all of it by himself. It's a wonder it didn't break him. I was so awed by him. All those things to feel guilty about forever, and all that he'd lost, and he still put up with all of the crap I gave him and came back with gracious answers. My heart felt like it was swelling up, I felt like I was expanding. I was starting to feel it, the L word. Only difference was, I wasn't so scared of it. "I've never felt any sadder than I should have been," he said. He looked up at me and his eyes caught me. They were haunted. He was bearing it, it was all he could ever do, just bear it and move on. He didn't have a choice about it and he never would. I put my arms around him. I pulled him down with me and held him. I didn't know what else to do. I was rocking him. "It's cold, in Ireland," he said suddenly, and I stopped rocking him and just held him while he spoke, so softly, "It's not like here. It's cold a lot, there's fog and lots of dark days, and the wind comes off the sea sometimes so strong and so raw you can feel it going right through you. I love it still, I miss it sometimes, it was my home. My people were from there, an old family. We loved the land, we loved the sea, it was part of us, we belonged to it. You don't have that so much anymore, that feeling that you're part of the land, that you're part of the sea, but it's still true, anyway. Sunny days in Ireland are rare and you really appreciate them, you just stand in the sun and love it. I'll never forget those days, what that felt like," I had to look at him. "I'm not sure you'll ever have any idea what you mean to me, Buffy," he said. He wasn't making a point or anything, he was just stating it simpy, "Unless you've felt that cold going through you, you can't really know how glorious the sun on you can feel. You're the sun. You're like blue sky again," I kissed him. How could I not? I knew something right away when I first saw him in the mosoleum: he doesn't lie. He doesn't talk a good line like most boys will. He doesn't say

it unless it's true. He might not say things, but if you ask him, he'll tell you the truth. My heart was swelling up even more, I felt like it might burst right out of me. I hugged him so tight, I heard him grunt. "Sorry," I said, and he smiled his sideways smile, the one that starts at one corner of his mouth and sneaks over slyly, his eyes have that wry look, it's so adorable, I kissed him, over and over. He kissed me back strongly. It started building, it's this thing that happens to both of us, it comes over us and it's so hard to stop or to pull back, it feels so much more right than anything I've ever felt before in my whole life. No just good, or tingly, but right. This-is-where-I-belong right. I dont have the greatest will power in the world. Holding him, running my hands over his back, up the back of his neck, and him kissing me like he does, teasing me, it was so intense, and the biggest problem was, I couldnt blame him for it. He only ever went as far as I went, he took the lead from me, so any trouble that got started would be my fault. It was getting bad; I was breathing like Id just run home and every little nerve in my skin was hyper-awake, every place he touched me was lit up. I just wanted more and more of him. My hands were all over him. I love the way my hands glide over his skin, hes got wonderful skin. I wanted to rub my face in his hair and taste him all over, I tasted his neck, the sweet angle of his jaw, his shoulder inside his shirt. He loves it when I touch him, I know it. He moves his cheek closer to my hand, or turns his head so I can reach his neck, its so much like an animal loves to be scratched. Its really sexy. I was kissing him deeper and he was doing it, too. I was plastered against him. He rolled us over so that he was crouched over me again, but he kept kissing me, he didnt try to go. I pulled him down so he was lying right on me and I made a noise out loud, there was no way not to, it was incredible to feel the full length of him against me. He pulled his hips up, leaning on his forearms. He was looking at me. "Rushing isnt what its about," he said. I cant explain it, but I had to. I pulled him back down onto me and I wrapped my legs around his hips. Then we both made sounds out loud. I could feel him. I mean, HIM. I was shocked, because I never really knew what all those dirty jokes meant, about size and everything...but it was really scary. I just thought, no way, Im never going to be able to do that! It just seemed impossible. I dont mean I was going to do it tonight, but I guess I thought...at some point, maybe...it was scary but it was so exciting, too, more exciting than anything Id ever felt. I took his face in my hands and kissed him wetter and deeper than I ever had. It was hard to do, because I was already so out of breath. I moved on him and that roller coaster feeling was coming on, and I couldnt stop. I didnt want to stop. I do this thing sometimes when I cant sleep and Im thinking about Angel. I put a pillow between my legs, really tight, and I clamp onto it and I move against it, and I do it until everything else disappears and Im hot all over and I almost scream but I dont because Mom would come running in. But then, when its over, I sleep great.

I was almost doing the same thing, only I was moving against him, and I was totally losing it. He slid one hand under my back, down to the small of my back, not any lower, and he lifted me up and sideways, so that the edge of his hip was between my legs, and he started sliding me up and down against him, so I was feeling the same things but he was moving me...how does he know how to do everything? It was like hed already memorized my rhythm, my motion, and like he knew that the edge of his hip was just right, it pressed on me just right, and he was scooping me up and down, a little faster, and before I knew it the room exploded, everything exploded. I was clinging to him. My heart was pounding, I was breathing so hard, Id been saying his name a lot. I was trembling, and I was starting to feel weird, because Id never felt that way with anybody before. Not just that feeling, but also, being so open like that. I was starting to feel so embarrassed and so scared, but he was stroking my hair and he was whispering to me and it seemed like somehow he was happy. I mean, nothing much happened for him. He kept telling me how beautiful I was, and how much I meant to him. He laid down beside me and pulled me up so my head was on his chest. His hands, the way he was talking to me, it was so soothing, and I fell asleep. Suddenly I woke up. It was dark. He was still there. He was pulling back the covers, and he lifted me in his arms and put me in the bed and pulled the covers over me. "Do you have to go?" I said. "Its four-thirty," he said. I looked at the clock. "Oh," he had to get home, I realized. Then I remembered everything that happened and I didnt know what to say. "I dont want to go," he said, "But I have to. Get some sleep, OK? Ill see you soon." "Yeah," I said. "Have coffee with me tonight?" It took me a minute. Oh, yeah, duh, it was morning. "OK." "20th century, all right?" he said, "And if one of your friends is talking to me, please come up anyway. Ill be waiting for you, Buffy. I wont be there to see anybody else." I had to laugh, "OK." "I-" he stopped suddenly. He almost seemed to take a breath. Then he said, "Ill see you soon. Sleep." I watched his shadow swing sleekly out the window, graceful and silent. I missed him beside me. I wonder what he almost said?

Buffy's Diary November 7, 1997 Part 1

Timeline: After the episode Lie To Me

I guess sometimes everybody lies. I have. Sometimes you have to. But it really stinks being on the other end of a lie. It's something to keep in mind, I guess. So, Giles lied to me about growing up, because I asked him to, and then he went home and I was going to walk him but I got this feeling and I took the long way around the cemetery. I was glad I did, because Angel was there. He was waiting for me. He was standing in the shadows of the trees and he walked out so I could see him. I realized that if he never wanted me to see him I never would. Unless I was hunting him. Thank God that will never happen. He'd be hard to kill. For more than one reason. "Hey," he said. "Hey," "I'm sorry about Ford," he said. "It's OK. He-he was dying, and he scared of was dying." "There's scarier things," he said. "I know," He had his hands in his pockets. His eyes were searching in mine for something. I know he was worried about telling me what he told me, about Drucilla. "Buffy-" "I know why you lied," I interrupted him, "And it wasn't great to hear. But I wish I knew how often you lied to me. It made me wonder if everything was a lie,"

He looked at ground. "That was the first time," Somehow, I knew it. I knew that was the truth. But I was still hurting. "Do you still-are you still-obsessed with her, at all?" His head jerked up. His eyes were sharp, but sad. "No," he said, and he almost seemed shocked that I had even asked him. I moved a little closer to him, because we were standing pretty far apart, and I had to look at him up close. We just looked at each other for a while. My heart started to pull at me. He can seem so vulnerable sometimes, but he doesn't do self-pity. He just opens up and gets ready to take whatever's coming. In that way, he's an incredible fighter. Like when we took on the Three. He's practically fearless. "It really hurt," I said, "It really hurt to see you with her and it really hurt that you lied about it," "I know," "Did she kiss you?" "No," he said, "You thought she kissed me?" "I don't know. It looked like it," He looked right into me, like he does. "No," he said. "I wish you had just told me about it," "I know," he said, "I shouldn't have lied to you. There's things that-that I did," he swallowed and looked down, "So many things I wish I hadn't done," "Well," I took another step closer, "Technically, I mean, really, it wasn't you. It was the demon," He shrugged. "I've got the memories," He pulled his hands from his pockets and looked at them, "These were the hands that did it," I hesitated, but I couldn't help it and I took his hands in mine. "But it's what these hands do now, right?" I asked him.

He does this amazing thing when he looks at me a certain way: he starts something inside me. It's heat or something, it's a warm rush upwards, it starts somewhere under my ribs and spreads, it's almost like wrapping a hot towel around yourself. "Yeah. That's right," he almost smiled, and his fingers curled around mine. It's the warmest touch I've ever felt, even though his hands are cold. It's hard to explain. There's no hesitation in his touch at all, no eserve. He doesn't hold back, and until I'd touched him I never realized how much most people do. Most people keep something to themselves, even when they hug you. He doesn't. He isn't grabby, that's not what I mean. I just mean that it's very deliberate, it's very sure. He must be afraid of some things, but he's not afraid of touching me. He acts like it's a treasure, every time, he acts like it's precious. He was looking at my hands like they were rubies or something. "That's a lot of what you do, now, isn't it?" I asked him, "Do the right things? Fight vampires...help me?" His thumbs were stroking the inside of my palms. It's amazing how sexy that feels. He was smiling now, a soft little smile. I had the feeling that he wasn't even listening to me. He was massaging my fingertips, one by one, very gently. He held my right hand up to his mouth and pushed my fingertips across his lips, back and forth, his eyes closed. His lips were silky and cool. He brushed my fingers across his cheek, moving his head like a cat does, upward, wanting more. He kissed my fingertips and let go of my hand. "Yes," he said, answering my question. I was breathing harder now. He always manages to do that to me. It's almost irritating. Ever since Halloween night I'd been feeling a little self-conscious and he gave me all the room I needed without being distant. He's so good at all of that. Two hundred years of dating, I guess. Which made me think of something else, and I tried not to ask it but it came out anyway. He was still holding my other hand, still rubbing his thumb in my palm, and it was starting to get to me. "Angel?" He was gazing at me with that little smile, his eyes were so warm, they were full of me. "Yeah?" "Do you-" I suddenly felt so stupid, "Do you-like brunettes?" He laughed. It was one of his soft little snorts. "Buffy, what are you talking about?" "Well, I mean-" "I like you," he said.

"Yeah, but-" "But what?" "Obsession...it doesn't just end-" He released my hand and looked away. He took a step toward the trees, looking up. He stood there for a minute. "I was obsessed with her because she was pure and I was a demon, Buffy. She was so delicate, she was perfect, because I knew I could destroy her completely. In those days the one thing I wanted was misery. I was addicted to other people's misery, to making them miserable, to degrading them, to destroying the spirit in them. Some people, though, you can't take down. No matter what you do to them they still believe in themselves and they still have the courage to love. I wasn't interested in those people, people like you. I kept away from them," he looked back at me, "The tastiest kills are the ones that give over more than the body. You can drink someone's pride, their self-respect, their terror, their helplessness. Make somebody feel worthless and it's a complete victory," his eyes were cold now, glinting with the memories. It chilled me. "It hurts, doesn't it?" I asked him. His upper lip curled bitterly. "No more than it should," he said. "You can't change that," "No," "But you've changed other things. You've saved my life...how many times now? You've helped my friends. You-you," I stumbled over saying it but I said it anyway, "You mean a lot to me," "I don't know if that's the right thing or not," "I do," "You'd better be sure," "Nothing's for sure," I said, "Except the way we feel now," I stood there thinking about what I'd just said, and he was thinking about it, and suddenly his arms were around me and my arms were around him. His hand moved up and down my back, sweetly, he was resting his cheek on top of my head. We stood there for a while and I thought how dark it made me feel inside, the things he did to Drucilla, and I wondered what it would be like to be him, to have evil take you over and then have to deal with everything you'd done, forever. I held him tight, and we swayed under the trees. I thought about last night, when

he asked me if I loved him, the way he'd looked almost like a little boy for a minute, the way his voice went up when he asked, "Do ya?" "I'm sure," I said, "That I want you to kiss me," He looked down at me. His hand moved over my cheek. He's got huge hands. He can hide one of my hands in his fist. I pulled his face down and kissed him, and it was like relief. Kissing him is like falling into cool water when you have a sunburn, all of the bad things in the world just fade away, it's just him and me and I don't know how I'll ever climb out of that relief again, I want it to last forever. We were kissing and I took his hands again, and I stepped back. "Hey," I said, I was feeling all warm, my jacket seemed like overkill suddenly, "Do what you were doing, before?" It just shocks me sometimes, the things I say and do around him. I don't know where it comes from. "What?" his eyes sparkled. He was playing with me. "You know what," "This?" he took my hand and put my fingers to his lips again, but this time he moved his head back and forth, stroking them against his mouth. The breath went out of me, "Yeah,"

Buffy's Diary November 7, 1997 Part 2

Co-written with Kyra Crown Timeline: After the episode Lie To Me

"Hey," I said, I was feeling all warm, my jacket seemed like overkill suddenly, "Do what you were doing, before?" It just shocks me sometimes, the things I say and do around him. I don't know where it comes from. "What?" his eyes sparkled. He was playing with me. "You know what,"

"This?" he took my hand and put my fingers to his lips again, but this time he moved his head back and forth, stroking them against his mouth. The breath went out of me, "Yeah," He bowed his head and moved my hand so that my fingers went through his hair, along the back of his neck, around his throat. He kept his eyes closed, it was like watching him dreaming about me. He made a sound like a hum, or maybe like a purr, a deep sound, and I could feel the vibration of it going through him. He guided my hand down his throat into the open collar of his shirt and pressed my hand there. His head fell back a little and his face took on a look like longing, or like pleasure, but his eyes were still closed. He took my other hand and pressed it onto his shirt right over his heart. It doesn't beat, but it works, I thought. He moved my hand further inside his shirt, and I gasped, he's so smooth, he's satiny. How can he have such soft skin? He moved my other hand from his heart, down his chest and around his waist, so my arm was around him. He stroked my fingertips across his chest, up and down. He stroked my fingers over his left nipple and shuddered. He moved my hand up to his throat again, and down. I pulled him close to me, "Do that again," I whispered. I swear I had butterflies, he was so exciting. He opened his eyes and looked at me. "What?" I slowly moved the tip of one finger over his nipple again. "Aaah," he said, sharply, and then he pulled my hand away and released it. "I-I went to far, I'm sorry," "No, do it again, please?" "I never want to make you do anything," he said, "You're sixteen," "Pretend for a minute that I'm the Slayer," "That's got nothing to do with it," "It's got everything to do with it. Make me do something. Try," "That's not-I don't like you just because-" "Do you remember Halloween?" "I'm sorry about that, too-" "Why?" "Because it was too fast. You're sisteen, and-"

"We've covered this. We've covered a lot more than this. Why are you pulling away from me?" "We have covered this. It's bad to rush things, especially things like this. You should-you should come into them in your own time, when it's right for you, and it needs to be- it needs to be something more than just the moment," "You know," I was laughing a little, partly with frustration, partly because this whole thing was looney, "It's usually the girl that gives all these arguments to the guy. Next you're going to tell me a story about the free milk and the cow. It's more than just the moment for me, Angel. Is it for you?" He looked so hurt then, and I felt bad, but I was angry, or maybe just frustrated. "I mean, I am getting so sick of everybody acting like I'm not ready for things. How many demons do I have to kill before somebody treats me like a grownup?" "I-" he stopped, then started again, "I care about you, Buffy. More than anything," he looked down, and said it again, almost to himself, "More than anything. You are the Slayer. You don't have a choice about that and you never will," he looked up at me and I suddenly realized what he meant, we were in the same boat, in a lot of ways. "You should have everything that's good and real be the best it can be. You do have to fight demons but you don't have to do a lot of other things," "So-I don't have to keep my hands off you if I don't want to?" That threw him. He was speechless, for the moment. I reached up and touched his chest. I unbuttoned one button on his shirt. He was trying to think of something to say. I undid another button, and he shifted, but he didn't pull away. "Don't you know what this is for me?" he said, almost in a whisper. "I probably would, if you'd tell me," I said. I moved my hand down along his chest, feeling the muscles under my fingers, and the butterflies in my stomach move into my throat. It was strange because he was acting so helpless, and I almost started to feel guilty, like I was molesting him. "You think I don't want you," he said. "Sometimes I'm not sure," "Be sure,"

"How am I supposed to do that, when-" He lifted me up so quickly it was like being on a roller coaster for a minute, a dizzy rush, he just wrapped one arm around me and hoisted me up and crushed me against him. The air went out of me. He grabbed one of my legs and brought it around his hips, so I just wrapped my legs around him...it all happened so fast, all of a sudden I was clenched around him and I could feel what he wanted me to feel. He kissed me and it was a ravenous kiss, his tongue drove into my mouth and he mashed me against his body. I shouted into his mouth. He broke the kiss and his eyes shot into mine. "What do you feel?" he demanded. "Angel," I could barely speak, I was liquid all over, my heart was trying to beat it's way out of my chest, it was thumping so hard it almost hurt. "What do you feel, Buffy?" My arms were around his neck. I slid my fingers into his hair. "I feel what I want," I said. I moved my hips against him and he was so hard, so hard it was almost unreal, and so big that it was intimidating, but I couldn't stop, I tightened my arms and legs around him and I kissed him again, my tongue searching for his, and he kissed me back, but he started to ease away from me and I thought I was going to faint.

Buffy's Diary November 7, 1997 Part 3

Timeline: After the episode Lie To Me

"What do you feel, Buffy?" My arms were around his neck. I slid my fingers into his hair. "I feel what I want," I said. I moved my hips against him and he was so hard, so hard it was almost unreal, and so big that it was intimidating, but I couldn't stop, I tightened my arms and legs around him and I kissed him again, my tongue searching for his, and he kissed me back, but he started to ease away from me and I thought I was going to faint. He was letting me back down onto my feet. He took my face in his hands.

"There are some things you shouldn't doubt. Doubt a lot of things, be careful who you trust, never underestimate the enemy, don't take things for granted, that's all good. Never assume there's only one rogue vampire at a time. Don't think too little of Spike, just because you've beaten him a couple of times. Never think you know everything, because the minute you do you'll get blind-sided. That's the way you think and it should be the way you think. But don't ever doubt two things: Don't ever doubt how much you mean to me, and don't ever doubt that I want you so badly that I can just barely stand it," I was feeling weak all over, I slipped my arms around his waist and I laid my cheek on his bare chest, nuzzling his shirt aside. What a state he puts me in! I think if I had tried to walk right then I would have fallen down. "Me, too," I said, and it came out in a whisper, "I can just barely stand it, too," I kissed him there, tasting him, I let my mouth wander over him. He smelled like a different soap tonight. It was nice. I wondered what kind it was, and I wondered how many bars of soap he has at a time, because his scent varies. The thought of him hoarding soap was adorable. I could feel him trying to stand away from me and I don't know why, I just did it, I took his nipple in my mouth. He made a wonderful, agonized sound. I slipped my arms around him. I suddenly wanted to eat him up, I wanted to ravish him, I wanted to do things to him that nobody else had ever done, I wanted to work him over, tease him until he begged me to stop, or begged me to do something else. I have never felt this way around a boy before. It's like being hungry but it goes so much deeper, it's a deep burn. It's more than a craving, it's more like an order. "Buffy," his voice was higher than usual and a little loud. I loved it. My hands were inside his shirt, I swear if I didn't know I would have thought his skin was satin. I was kissing his throat and raking my nails gently over the very tips of his nipples in a kind of rhythm, and he was making little moans in that rhythm, his head was craned back, he was shaking. I took his other nipple in my mouth and slipped my tongue over it, back and forth, I let my hands slide down. He's got an amazing stomach, I love the way he's built, with wide shoulders, and then his waist gets so narrow, and my hand slipped down and down and under his beltAnd he jerked away from me. "Buffy, I can't," his voice was thick. "Can't what?" I couldn't keep the dissapointment out of my voice. He was standing with his head lowered a little, like a bull about to charge, and he glanced sharply up at me, "If I were human, you'd be undressed and underneath me right now," he said. He shook himself a little and rubbed his hand through his hair. He buttoned his shirt. "I want to be," I said. I was panting and I didn't even care.

He was walking away. He paused and held his hand out to me, but he wasn't looking at me. "I'll walk you home," he said. I wonder what it is that gives him all of that self-control, is it being undead or is it just being so old, being around for so long, that waiting is a habit? I was thinking about the generation gap between us, and I'm pretty sure it's about twelve generations. Maybe it's such a big gap that there is no gap, because he's timeless, somehow, you get the feeling he could fit in anywhere he wanted to. I know I should feel bad about letting myself go like that. Not because he wouldn't respect me, but because it was cruel...he was controlling himself for me. I know he worries about me and he wants me to be OK in every possible sense, but now I'm also sure that he wants me, and it makes me really happy. Really happy. Big happy. I don't even know what happens next now, but I know he understands me. Nobody ever will like he does, he even likes the way I hunt. Everybody else just likes the results of my Slaying, they don't like the Slaying itself much, and it can make you feel pretty unappreciated sometimes. I know how Giles feels about it, but he has to. Everybody likes to critisize, but not Angel. Or if he does, at least he backs it up, he shows up and puts his life on the line. And he's good, he's a great fighter. I like that. And he's cool, and he's polite, and he's sexy and he's way too beautiful...and I don't care what happens next. I really am in love with him. I'm almost out of stakes. Tell Giles tomorrow. And I need to get up early and put on a fresh topcoat. My nails look like the sidewalk.

Buffy's Diary November 12, 1997

Timeline: After the episode The Dark Age

Ethan Rayne is definitely on my beat-to-a-bloody-pulp list. He got away again. I really hate that guy. And poor Jenny. Actually, poor Giles, because when creepy things happen to people when I'm around, even if I fix them, the blame tends to fall on me, and I have a feeling she's going to blame this on him. I hope they're going to be OK. Giles needs her.

Giles took Jenny home, and Angel walked me home. He's so awesome. He always helps when he can. And I love the way he fights. He really knows how to throw it all on the line. We were walking back through the cemetery, which is a shortcut to my house, but it's also a habit. Slayer habit. "You know, you come in pretty handy sometimes," I pushed my fingers through his, entwining them. He glanced down at me, smiling. "Glad I could help," he said. "You more than helped," I said, "I don't know what we would have done, otherwise," "It's got to be hard for Giles," he said, "It's pretty disconcerting when your past comes after you in the form of a demon," Oh, yeah, I thought, he'd know something about that. "Of course, that's what makes him the kind of Watcher that he is," he said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, if you've walked in shadows, you know your way around them.. You know how they move, what they want, how to outsmart them, how to fight them. If you've never walked in the dark you don't know how to hunt in it," "So-all the scary stuff he was into when he was younger scared him into being, like, a super-clean guy?" "Something like that. But it's not just about being scared, it's about knowing. I'm not sure how it is for Giles. That's just how it works a lot of times," "That's how it worked for you," "Yeah. Pretty much," "You're super-clean," I said, stretching up to reach my arms around his neck, "Come here and let me smell you," "What?" he laughed. I started to pull him down to me, but he lifted me up instead. I nuzzled him under his ear and rubbed my cheek on his neck. "That's nice," I said sniffing, "Is that Ivory soap?" "Yeah," he said, almost apprehensively, "Why?"

"You smell like a different soap practically ever time I see you, but you smell like Ivory a lot. It must be one of your favorites," His eyes sparkled at me. "You noticed?" "Yeah," I laughed a little, "What's with you and soap?" He set me down, "It's a weakness. It's kind of a long story," "I'm all ears," "Maybe some other time," his face was a little darker. Something like a not-so-nice memory maybe, I thought, so I let it go. "So, Giles is way freaked," "Shaken up, maybe. It would be nice for him to know you still trusted him," "You're right," I said, and I looked up at him again, marveling at him. He always seems to think of everything. "I should let him know," "It could mean a lot," "I trust you," I said. It just came out. And it was true, it's one of the truest things I've ever said. His eyes were so warm. "That means everything," he said. I slid my arms around his waist and pressed my face to his chest. He wrapped me in his arms. I feel so safe there, it's the best place in the world. I couldn't help it, I was rubbing my face over his chest. He was wearing a cotton shirt and it was pretty thin, I could feel the contours of him under my cheek and it was mesmerizing. I knew he tries to control himself all the time and he's super-conscious of the age difference between us, but sometimes I'm so lonely for him to touch me that I ache all over, I just wish we could be together like other people get to be. I wish, a lot, that I could be somewhere alone with him and feel all of my skin next to all of his, and touch him anywhere I want, and kiss him anywhere I want, and not be worrying about it all the time. It's not like it's an abnormal thing. People do it all the time. Well, other people. It's just so unfair to always not have what you want. I kept rubbing my face over his chest and I couldn't help brushing my lips over his nipples and I could feel them tighten and stand up, and it made me warm, just to feel that. He was stroking my hair, and I had the feeling he was going to pull away. I caught his face in my hands. "Sorry," I said.

He kissed me softly, a very gentle moist kiss that lasted a long time. I was breathless, I moved against him, brushing my chest up against his. He ran his hands up my back and into my hair and held my head. The kiss was still going. I slipped my hands over his chest again, I needed to feel him, but I stayed away from his nipples-barely. I traced them but I didn't touch them, I trailed my fingers over his chest, teasing him. He moaned very softly, and that unhooked something in me, that sound, my heart jumped, I pressed myself against him again, rubbing so he could feel my nipples. They were so hard they almost hurt. Then he surprised me. His hands stroked around my back, under my arms, and up under my chest, cupping me in both hands. I gasped, because I hadn't expected it, but I planted a kiss on him right away, partly because I just had to and partly because I didn't want him to think that I didn't like it. His hands moved over me softly, I was wearing a top that doesn't need a bra, so it was almost like feeling his hands right against me. He wasn't touching the most sensitive spots and I started to feel flushed, my face was tingling, my body was waking up all over. He just takes his time, no matter how he touches me, always. This wasn't any different. He was caressing me with his fingers, using so much careful attention, being so gentle. It was like he was afraid he'd miss touching one little spot on me. He was just barely holding them, covering them with gliding strokes, except where I was starting to want it, bad. He was tracing my nipples with little wavering lines. I was trying to be patient, but I was starting to tremble and little sounds were coming out of me. There was a low stone wall behind us and suddenly I was sitting on it and he was standing between my legs, holding my face. "What do you want, Buffy?" he asked me softly, his eyes were full of craving, but also that incredible, eternal kind of patience. His hands moved down. "Touch me!" I said, and he lightly stroked the ball of each thumb across each one of my nipples and I felt the ground go out from under me. I couldn't get enough air. It was like the bottom dropped out of the world, I clutched on to his belt loops to keep from disappearing. I was completely his right then, if he would just keep touching me like that, if he would just keep delicately tickling my nipples, and stroking them, and rubbing them, I would do anything. My blood was pounding, I was shaking. I had to hold on to him to stay on the wall. His fingers caressed me, over the tips of my nipples, around them in semi-circles, swirling over them, taking them in his fingers with a feather-light hold and stroking, over and over. All I wanted was more. He didn't show any sign of stopping, he kissed me and his fingers kept working me, I was almost sobbing by this point. It was like torture that you can't get enough of and he was doing it with infinite patience, pushing me right to the point where it was finally unbearable. I rocked foreword on the wall so that my jeans tightened against my body, squeezing me between my legs. I wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms went around his neck. I could feel a light sweat coming up on me. I pushed against him, gripping onto him. His fingers were dancing over the very tips of my nipples now, he knew exactly how lightly to do it. His name started

coming out of me in an unbroken line, "AngelAngelAngel," and then I was screaming and driving myself against him. I was shattered. I leaned against him, my breath heaving in and out of me, weak and quivering. He lifted me off the wall and then we were on the grass. His arms surrounded me. He was kissing my eyelids and my nose and my cheeks and he whispered to me. "You're so beautiful, Buffy, so beautiful, so beautiful," he said. I curled up in his arms and listened while the echoes of feeling moved through me and gradually subsided. He held me for a long time. We walked the rest of the way home without talking but his arm was around me snugly the whole way. He kissed me under the window of my room. "I-" he stopped, "I'll see you soon," he said. I should feel more self-conscious then I do. I just don't, at all. Why should I, really? Angel isn't the kind of person who would go around the next day telling everybody he'd gotten to second base with me. He just doesn't even think that way. Everything that happens between us happens because we feel it. It means something. I know that. He makes sure that I know that. Plus, he's so into making me happy, he isn't selfish at all. Sometimes I almost wish he'd be a little more selfish, but maybe sometime. The closer we get, the more I miss him when he's not around. Like right now, I miss him. I wish he'd hold me while I fall asleep. Tomorrow I need to talk with Giles. I hope he's OK. If Jenny pulls away it's going to hurt him, bad. I've been through that, and it's one of the worst things. He's one of those people who keeps all his feelings in and they do more damage that way, it's so much better to be able to share them. I can get through to him most of the time, but I'm not what he needs right now. He needs Jenny.

Buffy's Diary November 16, 1997

Timeline: (After the bedroom scene in What's My Line Part 1)

Sometimes it makes me mad, and I know I'm being kind of a brat, but sometimes....I think about other things that I could do. I try not to mention it too often, because they all feel like they have to REMIND me. "You're the Slayer, you can't go to the dance" "You're the Slayer, you can't stay in tonight," It's never over. Especially with Giles. It's never over for him, either, but at least he HAD a chance to be wild and stupid. I wonder sometimes, if somebody else had been chosen, what I'd be doing...I'd be doing something. Part of me feels betrayed that I even wrote that, the part that gets that craving after sundown and wants to go for a nice walk in the cemetery and kill vampires. That's a physical craving. But another part of me wonders....because I'm not just the Slayer. I'm a person, too. This is interesting...I come into my room and he's there, looking at things, checking out my stuff. I'm very protective of my privacy and I would have wigged if it had been anyone else. But there he was with Mr. Gordo, and it felt...normal, almost cozy. I didn't even think about minding it. He wasn't looking to make fun of me or anything. He wanted to know more. I know that's why he was doing it. He picks up things with such a soft touch, he has this way of handling things, like stuffed pigs and pictures and my sneakers, as if they're all made out of crystal, and I know they mean something to him because I mean something to him. And when I'm cranky at him...he reacts, like anybody would, but he always wants to know what's making me cranky and I can't hide it. I tell him it's nothing, and he just gives me this patient look, this look that says, "OK...I'll wait," and then he stands there and waits for me to fork it over. In a way it's adorable, but it also works. He can pretty much find out anything he wants when he gives me that look. And career week really kind of has me tweaked. Now that I think about it, he was tweaking in his own way, too. He was feeling....I don't know...insecure? Like when he said that he'd never be a kid, and that my life was more normal before him. But he really IS the only thing that makes sense in my life. Him I can count on. He makes mistakes sometimes, but he makes good on things. He has integrity. He's the most consistent and supportive person I've ever had in my life. He was looking at a picture of me during my Dorothy Hamill phase. I was embarrassed, but not like I would have been with anybody else. He doesn't judge me like anybody else would. He looks at things differently. Then we were talking about skating, and then suddenly he was talking about the rink and how they were closed on Tuesdays. I looked at him, and a little glow started inside me. "Tomorrow's Tuesday," I said. "I know," he smiled sweetly at me. I put my hand on his chest, just brushing him softly with my fingers. "So-will this be a date?"

"Yeah. Skating date. What do you think?" "I think you're pretty cool," I said. "Can I have a kiss, then?" Like I would ever say no to that. I love his mouth. He has the cleanest mouth. I don't know if it's the fact that vampires don't have tooth decay or what, but he's always cool and slightly sweet. I love the way his tongue will gradually grow warmer, like his lips do, from kissing me. I wonder what it feels like for him, that I'm so much warmer. He seems to be OK with it. He was holding me, leaning me backward and kissing me so nice, soft, wet kisses in slow motion. When he leans me back like that I lose a sense of balance, just slightly enough to make it even more intense, more like a dream. He kissed me for a long time, and I looked up at him and my eyes caught my reflection in the mirror with me suspended in space at this impossible angle. It threw me. I pulled away a little. "You should get some sleep," he said. "Tuck me in?" I couldn't help it. And I didn't feel like it was foreword at all. It felt right. "I'd like that," his smile was so warm. "I need to...." I gestured, a little awkwardly, "I need to change," "Oh," he laughed a little and went to sit on the windowsill. He threw one leg over and looked outside. I probably shouldn't have put that outfit on but I'm not sorry I did. I bought it at Victoria's Secret one time when I was thinking about him and I just kept it in a drawer forever. Well, for a couple of weeks. It's all lace, it's see-through. If Mom ever saw it she'd have a cow. It's a little bra and shorts, and it just barely exists. I put it on and my heart started to pound. I wasn't really nervous, it was something else. Mom wasn't home. I turned off the overhead light, and just my dresser light was on. I went to the windowsill and sat beside him. He turned and looked at me. If he'd had any breath it would have caught. That's the way he looked, like the air had gone out of him. It was really gratifying. He stared into my eyes with something like shock. For a second I wasn't sure if he liked it or not, maybe he thought it was too much. But then he swallowed, and he said, "Buffy," "Buffy, good?" He laughed. "Yeah, good," he said, "Amazing. You're amazing,"

I was looking at him in the soft light and just loving his face. He's so beautiful. I touched his cheek, and I started to feel mesmerized by him. I let my hands trace his features over andover, running my fingers over his cool lips and his eyelids, his jaw and the strong, fine line of his nose, the curves of his cheekbones, again over his lips and his chin, tracing him, worshipping him. "Angel face," I whispered. He closed his eyes and let me caress him. His lips parted. I leaned foreword and kissed him. He reached for my hands and held them while we were kissing. I pulled away and threw one leg over the windowsill and scooted right up to him, throwing my legs over his. He made a little sound, almost a groan. I slipped my arms around his neck. One of his hands went around my back, the other stroked my shoulder. "Buffy," so much was in that word when he said it. He said my name, but he was saying so many other things, too. His voice was full of desire and it worked on me like a drug. I kept moving my hands over him, around the back of his neck, through his hair, down into his shirt. I scooted up closer so I could really have my hands on him. I unbuttoned his shirt slowly. He was gripping the edge of the windowsill. I kissed him, slipping my tongue in and out of his mouth in little sliding strokes, over his tongue and the inside of his lips. My hands were hungry, they traveled over and over him, trying to get enough of him. The more I touched him the more beautiful he felt. I was kissing his throat, that gorgeous slant of his jaw and his neck, and he gripped my shoulders and lifted me away from him with a moan. "Buffypleasestop," he said through his teeth. "Mom's not home," "I know," I slipped my hands down his chest and let my fingers stop on his nipples and moved just the very tips of my fingers in circles over them. He took hold of my hands. I hadn't really thought about what I was doing and I felt guilty for a minute, but it came out anyway, "Why can't we?" "We...I..." he paused and shook his head, like he was trying to clear it, "You're not completely ready yet," "How would you know that?" "I don't know everything about how you feel. That's not what I mean. It's just...better to wait. There are so many ways I want to make you happy," "Don't you think I want to make you happy, too?"

"Please trust me about this, Buffy. The one thing I want more than anything in the world is to take you right now. But it's just too early," "What about what I want to take?" His hands were on my shoulders and his fingers were caressing me there. I feel like he could never have his hands on me anywhere without wanting to touch me like that. He looked into me and my insides went liquid. I'm just going to write it....his eyes are full of love. I know that's what it is. They're so full of love sometimes, everything just stops. "Please trust me," he said. I couldn't feel rejected. He was looking at me with so much longing that I couldn't doubt how bad he wanted me. He had some of that desperate look people get when they're hanging on to a cliff by their fingernails. I heaved a sigh and I looked at him. "So how am I supposed to get to sleep?" I was laughing a little, but he smiled at me and looked down at my chest and then back into my eyes. It was the sexiest look I've ever seen. My heart started pounding again. He lifted me up and slid me backward on the windowsill until I was leaning against the other side, and he followed, coming up close to me. I love it when he does that, when he takes charge of the situation like that, and that's weird because it's always made me nervous when other people do it. When you're my size you don't like being tossed around much, plus after I became the Slayer boys would try to pick me up and I'd let them have it and then I'd get in trouble. But when Angel picks me up and puts me somewhere, there's always this unspoken thing between us, this trust. If I wanted him not to all I would have to do is think that and he'd let go of me right away, because he always knows how I feel when we're together. And, I love it when he picks me up. I gives me a sweet rush...that for right now I don't have to make any decisions, I don't have to be in charge of everything. It...turns me on, I guess. He was kissing me and his hands were starting to move all over me and I shivered strongly, so strongly that I lost my balance for a minute, but his arm was around me so I wasn't going to slip. He was kissing me slowly, taking my lips in his and then releasing them, and then he was kissing my throat and stroking his fingers under my chin, which for some reason suddenly was making me crazy. His fingers moved very lightly down and along my throat. I hadn't realized how sensitive I was there. He always finds these spots on me, these little everyday places on my body that light up and become magic when he touches them. I leaned my head back and gave myself over to the way it felt. I was breathing so hard that my mouth was dry and he hadn't even started, really. He was kissing my shoulders and that place where my neck hollows down into my shoulder, and goose bumps came up all over me. I watched him as his mouth moved

down. He takes mouthfuls of me the way most people take their first mouthful of ice cream, pausing after his tongue touches to let the sensation move over him, then taking a second mouthful with more expectation, more craving. I was breathing so hard that his hair was stirring every time I panted. His hands slipped up quickly over me, up over my chest with a touch like feathers, and a long sound came out of me that sounded like sob. More and more lately, I get wet because of him. At first I wasn't sure it was a good thing, but I read up, and it is. It's amazing how fast it happens, he does one thing and I'm soaked, I'm all slippery. It would ordinarily be the kind of thing that would make me jump up and go check, except now he was kissing lightly all over me, on top of the lace, and I knew exactly what it was. He stayed away from my nipples forever, he kissed every other inch of them. It was like last time, except his kisses were wetter and more aggressive, and his hands cupped me and stroked me at the same time. His thumbs circled my nipples over and over, and his kisses got bigger and greedier the whole time. I reached up to undo my bra, I was so into what he was doing that I would have done anything, but he stopped me. "Not yet, not yet," he whispered. He wants to savor everything we do, he wants to make it all last as long as possible. And he wants to make me wait. He knows what it does to me, and he loves to do it to me. Someday, payback. Serious payback. I was sitting up by this time and craning toward him. I slid my arms around his waist and hung on because any minute, I could feel it opening up under me, any minute I'd fall in. I'd fall in to this deep abyss, soon I was going to loose it. He took my right nipple in his mouth gently and stroked his tongue over it. My whole body flushed with heat and I shouted, and shouted again. His thumb moved over my other nipple at the same time, he curled his tongue underneath in a circle, he slipped it quickly back and forth. Suddenly I was on him, right on his lap, slamming myself against him. I gripped his hips and drove against him again, and I could feel him, so hard, right against me, and I lost it. I imagined him inside me, and then I was screaming. He suckled my other nipple, he was relentless, and it kept coming over me like a seizure, it wouldn't stop. Finally the feeling ran out. I was heaving for air, I was dripping sweat and I knew my shorts were soaked. He was kissing my face, creeping little kisses up and down my cheeks and nose, and I was feeling self-conscious about being all sweaty, but I threw my arms around him, and he was so nice and cool. I pushed my face into his neck and held on while it subsided. He held me. It was like heaven. I felt warm and tingly all over, I felt safe, and I wanted to feel him in my hand. My hand slipped down and just brushed over the length of him. He caught my hand. "Let me touch you," I whispered.

"I -I can't" "Why?" "Buffy, wait," I pressed my cheek against his, my lips moved on his cheek when I asked him. "What is it, Angel?" I asked. "What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," I looked at him. There it was, that dark thing in his eyes. That heavy darkness. "You're not ready," I said. I was starting to understand. He didn't say anything, but he let me look in his eyes. "You're the one who's not ready," I said. The darkness deepened on his face. I stroked his cheek, wishing I could chase it away. I would if I could, I'd squash that darkness. Like a bug. "Talk to me," I said. "It's your bedtime," He took me up in his arms and swung off the windowsill. He carried me to the bed. He tucked me in, and then he laid down beside me, above covers, and pulled my head onto his shoulder. "I know you care about me," I said. "More than anything," he said. "It's not your fault you were changed," I said. "You were human. You were doing things that humans do. And then you were attacked by a vampire. It's never anybody's fault that they are attacked," He couldn't answer me. He couldn't talk about it, and I knew it. I let it go. I pushed his shirt aside and laid my cheek was on his bare shoulder. He smelled like a spice of some kind, very faintly. His skin is more satiny than satin is. He held me with so much patience and affection that the safe feeling crawled all through me and I drifted off. It's the best place in the world to be, and especially to fall asleep in. I slept like a rock. I don't know what I would do with my life if I wasn't the Slayer, but it's not even a question worth asking, really. And I don't know what I would do if I'd never met him. I

don't know how long I'll make it as a Slayer. If there were old Slayers hanging around that would be one thing, but there aren't. Slayers die pretty often, and there's no telling what I'm going to be up against next. All I can do is fight the best I can, for as long as I can. But I know one thing: no other Slayer had an Angel. He changes the score for me. Sometimes I think that I can make it to grow up and even have a life, as long as I have him. A lot of times I think that growing up and having a life would be nothing without him.

Buffy's Diary Undated Entry on Yellow Legal Paper

Timeline: Shortly after the skating rink scene in What's My Line Part 1

Another night ruined by my "sacred duty" status. If it hadn't been for Angel.....I don't know. But I'm sure glad he showed up when he did. Angel's not small, but this creep was enormous, and Angel just kept throwing punches at the guy without any hesitation, relentlessly. He was fighting to the death. It's all you can do when your opponent is bigger and stronger-you fight with everything and just hope for a break. I'm glad I was wearing skates. They came in handy. I slashed the creep's throat, it was actually pretty easy. But if it hadn't been for Angel I wouldn't have had the chance. He had a nasty cut. Vampires heal, but it was still pretty deep. He kept jerking away from me and at first I thought he was squeamish, but then he said, "You shouldn't have to touch me when I'm like this,". And then I realized that it hadn't even occurred to me that he was in game face. All I saw was him. Him, and his cut, and the way he fought, going up against that huge guy over and over again, and all the other times he'd done the same thing. He felt really self-conscious...almost ashamed, I think. It got to me.

"Oh," I said, "I didn't even notice," and I took my glove off, so I could really touch him and so I could show that I wanted to, and then I kissed him. I can hear my friends now, "Ewww, a mouthful of fangs!" but it wasn't like that at all. It was Angel I kissed, it was Angel's mouth. More teeth, yeah, and it was different, but not bad different. I can imagine Giles freaking. Kiss from a mortal enemy. But it was sexy, because it was Angel having to trust me. He knows my instincts, they're just as automatic as his. I see fangs, I stake. But in that moment we both overcame everything. In that moment, the most important thing was US, not what we were made to be. He let me kiss him, and then he kissed me back, and I could feel his face changing under my fingers and his fangs withdrawing under my mouth. It was amazing. His skin became so soft, his mouth so smooth, it was enchanting. Then he pulled away from me. "We have to get you out of here," he said. My Mom says if you name your feelings they don't rule you so much. I hate this feeling I have right now but I don't know what it is. It's shivery and dark, it's right under my heart...I feel myself shaking with it, I feel cold.....what IS it??? It's bugging me. Anyway, Angel was wigged because of the ring the guy was wearing. That's the part that bothers me, because he never gets wigged for no reason. He walked me from the rink and he was brooding for a lot of it. "What's Giles doing tonight?" he asked. He was walking so fast. "He's in the library with Willow and Xander. Researching some book," "What book?" "Oh, some book was stolen out of the library by a vampire a couple of weeks ago, and since there was another undead-theft from a mausoleum in the cemetery last night, Giles thinks there's a connection. Same guy who wrote the book collected relics....or made relics...or WAS a relic..." He looked down at me, but he kept up the pace. "Dulac?" "Yeah. That was the name. How did you know that?" "I saw the mausoleum. And I've read Dulac..." "You lurk, and you read. At least you're well-rounded," "Make sure Giles sees this ring," he handed it to me, "I'm walking you to the library right now. And do what he says. Don't question him. Just do what he thinks you should do. No matter how you feel about it,"

"How come you know so much Watcher stuff?" I suddenly asked. I stopped walking and stood in front of him. He had that look that people get when they've been busted. He walked around me, catching my hand and pulling me along. "You hang out for a couple of centuries, you pick things up," he said. "It's more than that," I said. I was remembering that first night in my bedroom, when he told me that he fought vampires because, "somebody has to". Before I knew he was one. "Most of the time you're up on things almost like Giles," I said now, "Why?" I thought I knew why, but it brought up a whole bunch of other questions. He fights them. He reads up on everything. But has he been doing that since he got his soul back? Or is it just because of me? "I have my reasons. Look, just get to someplace where they won't know to look for you. I want you to stay with Giles and the others tonight," "Angel-" "I mean it," he said. "You're being hunted. And you're used to doing the hunting. You have to think differently now. You can't ambush these guys, you can't do it alone," "We'll see," I said. He grabbed my arm and spun me around. He took my shoulders in his hands. I have never seen him so upset. "You WON'T see, Buffy! You won't see them coming. You haven't been up against anything like this before!" I was speechless, and he loosened his grip. I saw guilt sweep over his face. He crushed me against him, wrapping his arms around me tight. He pushed his mouth next to my ear. "Please," he begged, "Please promise me you'll listen. Listen to Giles, listen to me now. Please, Buffy," "OK...OK-" I was a little messed by his intensity. He'd never acted like this before. "We need to get you inside," He silent for the rest of the walk but he hung onto my hand, strongly. He kept throwing glances around and behind us, scanning. We reached the school and he walked me inside, all the way to the library door. "I have errands to run," "Angel-"

He took my face in his hands and gazed at me. "I-" he stopped. He almost said something and he stopped himself. He's done that before. "You-what?" His eyes went right through me. His thumbs moved softly over my cheeks. He kissed me, and it was different from the way he's ever kissed me before. It wasn't a soft, tender kiss, it wasn't even a passion kiss, it was full-out, it was almost desperate. His hands moved around the back of my head and he mashed his mouth on mine. It was really exciting. I wrapped my arms around him. He kept kissing me and there it was, that feeling starting in me, every time it gets more intense. I was wet. From a kiss. Well, several kisses, actually. He held me close, rubbing his face in my hair. I pushed my hips up against him. I could feel him getting hard. My heart leaped up and started pounding. He pushed me back, but gently. "I have to go. Do whatever Giles tells you." I took his hand and stopped him. I put my hand on his cheek. "Be careful," I said. He leveled his eyes at me. He can look more intense than anybody I've ever seen. "Be at your most alert," he said, "This is war," So, I'm in Giles' office, writing this on his paper because I'm getting addicted to writing things out, I guess. I need to think about this feeling. The Order of Taraka, they're saying. I'm supposed to hide out now. I've had this feeling before. I know what it is. I'm afraid. That ticks me off.

Buffy's Diary November 25, 1997

Timeline: The night after after the episode What's My Line Part 2 concludes.

I went to check on Angel before sunset. I wanted to be there when he woke up. He was in such a deep sleep that he didn't even wake up when I came in. The lock was broken too, and that couldn't stay that way. I'd have to fix that. I turned on the light and he came around groggily. I was worried. "Hey," I said softly. I kissed him, and he just barely kissed me back, "Hey, are you going to be OK? Should I get you something to eat, or-" "I'm stocked," he slurred a little, "It's OK," I didn't believe him. I wouldn't put it past him to starve himself after the way he was talking yesterday. He had a refrigerator, so I checked it. He was telling the truth-there were blood bags in there. I went back to him. "How come you're so out of it, Angel," I asked him, "Are you healing right? Are you sick?" "My metabolism has slowed down" he said, a little mushily, "I'll be out for a couple of days to heal. It's OK...it's what happens," I thought about how some animals just get to a dark, safe place when they're injured and sleep it out. It must be like that. That ritual had to have taken everything out of him, plus his injuries. But it was eerie. "Shouldn't you eat?" "Not yet. It's OK, Buffy...I'm-" he went out for a second, then came back, his eyes rolling a little, "I'm sorry I scared you," "What can I do?" He smiled a slow-motion, crooked smile, "Kiss me," he said. I kissed him, and then he was out again. I should just let him sleep, that was what he needed, obviously. I would patrol later, but I needed to stay with him for a while. I needed it more that he needed me there, but, oh, well.

I took off my shoes and took the clip out of my hair. I'd come ready to go right to patrol, and I would, but right now I needed to be next to him. I crawled over him and slid into the bed next to him. It was OK, because I was dressed, although I thought about what it would have felt like not to be. He was laying on his side. I slid up behind him and put my hand lightly on his hip. His chest was still wounded, but it did look better. Better to leave it alone, now, though. I laid my cheek against the back of his neck and he made a sound like a sigh. I stroked his hip lightly over the sheet for a while, just smelling the back of his neck, which is wonderful. He smells delicious there. The muscles in his back are amazing, the shape of him. His shoulders start so wide and then he narrows drastically at the waist. I allowed my hand to trail over him, very softly, amazed at the contours of him. He murmured something and I went up on one elbow to look, but his eyes were moving under the lids and and he murmured again. He was dreaming. A tender rush came over me. He was adorable, so adorable. What was he dreaming? I slipped my hand over his back again and I heard what he was saying in his dream. My heart leaped. "Buffy," he said, his eyelashes trembling. He was so tempting. He was only covered by a sheet. I was shocked at the thoughts I was starting to have. I should leave him alone. "You dog," I said to myself. I took my hands off him and pulled back, trying to get a grip. He stirred longingly, reaching for the places where my hands had been. He woke up. Damn. "Buffy?' "I'm sorry, I woke you," I said. He rolled onto his back and his eyes found me. "I-I thought I was dreaming. Nice dream, and then-" his eyes closed again, he rocked a little, and then he came back, "Do you have to patrol tonight?" "Later," I said, "Shhh, go back to sleep," "I thought you were here, and then I thought you left," "I'm here. And when I leave I'll come back. Count on that," I said. He put his hand on my arm. "The contract should be off, because Spike's gone," he said. "You mean, Taraka?" "Yes. It should be canceled. I need to make some calls," he tried to get up. I pushed him back into the pillows.

"You need to sleep," I said. "Don't patrol until we're sure," I sighed. "Mom's back, and there's been nothing weird around all day," "We need to be sure," "OK," I lied, "I promise I won't patrol tonight," I was thinking about Spike's minions running around with no leader, running rampant. I'd have to make sure that was cleaned up. "Spike's gang will stay in until he doesn't show up for two nights," he said. I stared at him. He reads me like that all the time. "You have one more night. Please stay in tonight," I sighed. "You pretty much always get your way, don't you?" He smiled weakly. "I love your hands on me," he slurred. I laid one hand on his hip and stroked his cheek with the other. His entire body relaxed. He tried to say something else, but then he slipped off. I moved my hands like I had been, and his eyes started flicking back and forth again, he had fallen back into a dream. Well, I wanted him to get rest, didn't I? He might wake up again if I pulled away, so I started to let my hands explore him. It felt extremely wrong, because he was so defenseless, and so naked. Except for the sheet. My touches didn't seem to be disturbing him, though, they really seemed to be soothing him. Last night when I'd undressed him it wasn't like this. I was so freaked about what other wounds I might find on him, and so angry about the way he'd been treated, that all I was thinking about was getting him better. And killing a couple of people. But now he was safe, and getting better, and unconscious, just laying there gorgeous and right in front of me and hoping I wouldn't stop touching him. Sleeping so sweetly. My heart was pounding. I explored him, very lightly, running my fingers over his forehead and his temples. It's a neat contour. His temple dips and then curves up into cheekbone, and the line of his jaw is strong, it angles sharply away from his neck, the skin is very soft and sensitive under his chin, his whole body stirred when I kissed him there. His mouth was relaxed, with a shadow of a smile. I kissed around his mouth, little feathery kisses, and he moaned. I let my hand trail over the angle of his hip, upward, across the taut, tender skin of his lower belly, and back down again. His smile grew more, and his body undulated under my touch, his hip moving up to meet my hand. I looked at his eyes, he was deep in REM. My sweat pants were going to be soaked because my panties already were.

I moved my hand down his hip and saw that the sheet was starting to stand out. It took my breath away, just thinking about it. I slid my hand down his thigh over the sheet and back up, a few times, watching it stand out further. He made a soft sound that was too deep to be a whimper, but it had so much longing in it. I realized I was starting to pant. I just barely drew my fingers over him. He moaned and his head craned back into the pillow. His closed eyes were racing. I trailed my fingertips over him again, starting to explore the shape of him, the incredible, smooth length and then the bulge at the top. I slid down in the bed next to him so I could rest my head on his hip, and I tugged the sheet down, little by little, only caressing him where he was covered by sheet. The tip slipped out and I just stared at it for a while. It reminded me of a plum, with the cleft in it and the roundness of it, but it was way bigger. My fingers were still moving on the rest of him, so gently. It's beautiful. It's really smooth and long and I couldn't believe how hard it was under my fingers. He moved his head back and forth on the pillow, making little begging noises. I tugged the sheet down further and I caressed him lower. It was standing up taller now. It was really big. Scary big. I pursed my lips and blew on him, a tiny jet of air, and he made an anxious sound, stirring again. I pulled the sheet off him, finally, and just looked. He's built amazing all over. I propped myself up on one elbow and just took him in with my eyes. He's long and smooth, long, strong arms, golden curves of muscle on his chest and ripples on his stomach, lean, narrow hips, and this beautiful, tall, strong thing standing up begging for my touch. I laid my head back on his hip and sighed, staring at him wonderingly. I touched him low with a fingertip and moved it very gently all the way up over him, all the way to the tip. He made a sound like a gasp, almost. I moved all of my fingers on him, feeling the silky texture of him and loving the way he trembled. It got even harder, it was so swollen. I wondered how sensitive he might be, if it was anything like I was sensitive. He reacted to everything. It made me ache inside a little, an empty ache where I was wet. I laid the whole palm of my hand on him and brushed it up and down. He moaned. I wrapped my fingers around him and squeezed and stroked upward, and his hips jerked up and he cried out softly. I loved him like this. I blushed thinking about it, because I liked him helpless. It was the sexiest thing in life. His hands were gripping the sheets and his head was craned back, he was waiting for every touch. I wanted to tantalize him all night. It was magical that he was asleep...it was pure, somehow. But it was wrong. Well, maybe. I reached up for a pillow and pulled it under my head, so I could stay down there, but I could see higher and get a better angle. I kept my hand on him, I kept moving it. His hips surged foreword so he slid through my hand, and Ifelt the air go out of me. He moved again, driving into my grip. I closed my fingers more tightly and moved more with my wrist, gripping him and stroking. "Oooh," he cried out in his sleep, "Buffy!"

I looked at his face, but his eyes were racing, and his mouth was softly open and almost smiling. A wave of heat went through me. I was almost afraid he'd wake up. I trailed the fingertips of my other hand over the tip, very lightly, feeling how velvety it was, and a little drop of moisture streaked under my fingertip. It was slippery. That moment I felt myself get even wetter. The moisture on my fingers made it so my touch glided over him and he was moving more urgently now, thrusting his hips up and tossing his head on the pillow. I trailed my fingers over the tip, just tickling, finding the sensitive spots and teasing them. My fingers were moist, but could be better, so I licked them and then went back to teasing, caressing the tip carefully but keeping my fingers busy, and stroking him with my other hand, a little faster. I was getting dizzy, because I think I was hyperventilating. My mouth was getting dry. I sat up so I could grip him better, but I kept my hands moving. God, he's beautiful when he's like that...when he's shaking and the muscles are standing out in his neck and on his thighs, when he's tensed on the edge, his mouth open, silently pleading. I thought about how much fun this would be when he was awake, too. He shivered and arched on the bed. It grew even more taut in my hand, swollen even wider, and I wondered how much more it would grow, and then he was sobbing my name and a little cold jet fell across my cheek. The next one spurted over my hands. He was crooning and thrusting, still, so I kept stroking until he started to slow down. I've heard older girls before talking about how it tastes and smells fishy, and I thought, ewww, but I wiped it off my cheek and sniffed it and it had no smell, and I took a little taste and it was just really salty, but not gross. It had a tingly aftertaste. It was slippery but it got stickier in my fingers. He was groping around in his sleep, still saying my name. His hand found my face and he pulled me down to him. I crouched over him and kissed him, and then I laid down beside him and he pulled my head onto his shoulder and rubbed his face in my hair. He was murmuring something and I can't be sure but it sounded like the "L" word. It sounded a LOT like the "L" word. He moaned, a long moan, like a release, and then he was out. Still as death, but smiling like a little boy. I guess I should tell him about it, but I don't know how to say it, and maybe he'd be embarrassed. I KNOW I would. I wouldn't even know where to start. Maybe someday. I did sort of take advantage of him but I really don't think he'd mind. It's a really cool feeling, it's like stealing a lipstick and getting away with it. You can't do it all the time, but maybe you should get to do it once. He couldn't pretend about anything, it was just him and me and what he wanted, what he craved, unedited. Very cool. I'll have the edge on him...when....I AM thinking WHEN, now. Not IF anymore. Definitely when. Mom would freak.

But it's none of her business. For sure the Slaying isn't, and that's not even normal, she can't protect me from any vampires or anything. Yeah, he's older. Yeah, he's a vampire. But he loves me, I know it. He even loves me in his sleep.

Buffy's Diary December 1, 1997

I didn't invite Angel to Thanksgiving for several obvious reasons, but I felt a little bad about it anyway. I know he doesn't care, but I sort of do. At least it gave him some extra time to rest. I stopped at the hardware store and bought a lock on my way to his apartment. I should have fixed it before. I knocked, and he was up, because he said, "Buffy," He was sitting up on the couch, with just pants on, reading. He smiled at me. "How did you know who it was?" I asked. "It was your knock," "Oh," I said, raising my eyebrows. "Yeah, sure," He shrugged, smiling. "I'd know it anywhere," he saw the lock in my hand and grinned, "Thank you," "Sorry I broke it," He laughed. "Don't be," he glanced back into the room, "I was wondering about the coffee table, though," I winced. "Yeah, I'm sorry. Kendra and I sort of redecorated," "Kendra...the other Slayer? She helped you get me out of the church. She was the one-" "Who locked you up in the sunlight. Yeah. Well, that night I slept here," A rich smile warmed his face. "You did?"

"Yeah...and after she locked you up she found me here...and we had a Slayer Deathmatch, sort of," "Oh," he frowned, "Did somebody win?" "It was a draw, technically," I said, "But I'm still defending my title," "You felt safe here," he said. "Yeah," "I'm glad," He looked so much better, his eyes were clear, he was lucid, but he was still a little pale and tired. I sat beside him on the couch and he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I looked at his chest. He was healing really fast, he heals like I do. The burns had closed up nicely. I took his hand and unwrapped the bandage to check. It was closed most of the way, but it had basically been gored, so it would take longer. I went to get bandages and changed them. He watched me like I was the angel. "The contract is off," he said, "I confirmed it," "Good to know," "That was Spike acting desperate," he said. He was beaming at me, "You scared him to death. You only call in the Order of Taraka in a doomsday situation. You had him in a panic," "You like that, hunh?" I asked. He was practically grinning. Then he sobered a little. "You're the toughest one yet. You're going to win. You're going to be the oldest Slayer on record," "That sounds like fun," I said doubtfully. "You'll have more of a life than any other Slayer has, because you have the guts to live it," he said, "You don't isolate yourself. It makes you stronger. You're going to make it," It affected me, what he said. It was really good to hear, I believed him. But I said, "If I do, it's because I have lots of help," "Exactly. Friends, family-" "And you," I said. He paused and looked into me. Big love in the eyes, and worry, and desire, and doubt.

We looked at each other, and a lot of thoughts went between us, same thoughts. I didn't want him thinking. I wanted lots of kisses. I thought about last night and I blushed. I was taping the bandage on his hand. He tilted his head and looked at me. "What?" "Nothing," He gave me that look, that, "I'll wait," look he gets, but it wasn't going to work, not about last night. I just shook my head, and then I looked at him. I'd finished taping his hand and I found myself just sitting there smiling at him. He was better. He'd be OK. I was so happy about that. "It's just really great to see you being back to you," I said. "In the church," he said, "When I saw you..." he seemed to run out of words. "How close was the ritual to done?" I asked. "Close," he said. I stroked his cheek, and I felt tears coming up. I blinked them away. "I was so scared," "You did it. You beat Spike, you beat the assassins. You did it all," He was looking at me with so much admiration that I almost blushed again. "Like you said, I didn't do it alone," "You draw help to you," he said, "That's part of your strength," "I don't ever want to see you like that again," I said. He laughed, "That's two of us," I sighed, a big deep one, it came on me suddenly. I kissed him. He kissed me back deeply, it was one of those long, soft, wet kisses that go through me like I'm made out of butter, that melt me completely. But he wasn't up to full strength yet. I pulled back. "You should lie back down, get some more sleep," I said. He reached over and took me by the hips suddenly, swinging me over him so I was sitting on his lap. "I'm not sleepy," he said softly. He stroked my hair and his eyes lingered over my face. He slid his hand behind my head and pulled me foreword and kissed me, very, very gently. My breath went out of me, it was that nice a kiss. His fingers stroked my neck and under my ears and chin, very lightly, over and over. That makes me crazy, I don't know why, but it makes me go all soft. I closed my eyes and just gave over to his fingers.

I started to shake. He twisted and went up on his knees over me, pushing me down, and I flopped into the cushions. I had my eyes shut and I waited for his mouth on mine. He leaned right over me, I could feel the coolness of him so close to me, and I thought about how he must feel heat next to me. I opened my mouth a little and licked my lips, and then I felt lips his on mine, and I made a long sound in my throat, I love the way he makes me wait sometimes. His fingers kept caressing me like that, teasing me gently. I was starting to pant into his kisses, and then they moved down. He was stroking under my chin and kissing my throat, and his name came out of me, because when he starts on me I can't even think, I don't even know the noises I'm going to make or anything. He kissed my throat for hours, I think, and I was completely out of it, hypnotized, and then his hands moved down. My heart was pounding. It's one thing the first time you feel something, but when you know what to expect it's even more intense. His hands started moving below my throat, stroking my chest, and I started to tremble because I knew how amazing it was going to feel. His thumbs were tracing slow circles around my nipples and his mouth was there, kissing circles after his thumbs and brushing his lips across my nipples. I took his face in my hands and looked at him. His eyes were almost misty. I looked down at myself and pulled my sports top down slowly, looking back up at him. I slipped the fabric away from them and he took them in his hands with...what is it? I think it's reverence, that's the word. He laid his cheek there for a second, whispering my name. "Kiss me," I said, "Kiss me there," I'm possessed when I'm with him, I swear. His eyes shot up at me. He pressed his lips against my right nipple, looking right into my eyes, and then he licked his lips and parted them, just sliding the tip of my nipple back and forth between them, and I knew he was going to lick it soon and how incredible it was going to be, and I couldn't stop watching him and I whined and shivered. My hips were moving, my whole body was, I couldn't help it. He kissed around my nipple, right around the very edge of it. I was getting dizzy, it was like a headrush. One of his hands moved lower. I was mauling his hair. I wanted his wet tongue on my nipple so badly I could almost feel it, but he was torturing me, he knew I wanted it and he was making me wait. It was almost more than I could stand. His hand slid along the side of my hip, up and down, and over my belly. He slipped a finger under the waistband of my sweatpants and his tongue finally slipped over my nipple. I yelped his name. My body throbbed inside. I was tingling all over. I felt a warm little shift between my legs and I knew I was wet, really wet. His finger traced a smooth line down from my belly button to underneath my panties to just above THERE, and he did it over and over, slowly, as if he wasn't heading anywhere. His tongue was gliding in a circle around my nipple. He just kept slowly stroking that line, up and down. It was an amazing sensation, I could feel it inside me, I could feel my body moving inside along with his finger on my belly, and suddenly I wanted him to touch me lower, so badly that I wanted to beg for it. I did beg.

"Please," came out of me, in between breaths, "Angel, please," He kissed my mouth softly as his fingers moved down and my whole body arched up all at once, all of my muscles seemed to seize up. I was so wet, his fingers slipped over me and I felt really sensitive, it was more intense than when I touch myself, so much more intense that I wasn't even ready for it. He kissed me again on my mouth and went back to slowly licking my nipples and sucking on them. That would have been unbearable enough, but his fingers were teasing me slowly, slipping between my legs and then trailing over that one spot so lightly but right on target, because he knew just how, just how, his fingers were right on it, they traced these perfect circles and strokes. He was taking his time, like he always does, but it didn't matter how slowly he went, I was so gone already. My thighs hardened, my back bunched up, I felt the wetness flowing out of me. My body seemed to open and cry out for every touch. The scream ripped it's way out of my throat, I was pushing against his hand and he stroked a little harder and I just screamed because it was all I could do. He brought his hand to his face and pressed his fingers to his lips and closed his eyes. He opened them and sucked the moisture off his fingers while he looked at me. His eyes were heavy, like he was on a drug. He shivered and almost sighed. If anybody else had done that it might have felt...dirty or something, but he made it look like he was taking a drink of cool water after a week running in the desert. "Buffy," he said, his voice was full of wonder,as if I'd just given him the moon. He pushed his forehead up against mine and gazed at me, stroking hair away from my face. His eyes were soft and moist, but there weren't any tears, he was just sort of overflowing. I was recovering, I was still in the zone somewhere, still throbbing all over. He was kissing every inch of my face, my eyelids, my forehead, a line of tiny kisses up the bridge of my nose, slowly, so slowly. Finally my body started to cool down and a wave of sleepiness went over me. I looked him in the eye and I saw that he was sleepy, too. He felt me starting to move and he pulled my sweat pants back up, but he slid down to do it and he kissed my belly, one kiss really low, lingering, and my heart started racing again but I wanted to put him in bed. He felt me move and he pulled my sweats up and smiled up at me, his eyes were shining. "Can I tuck you in?" I said. He stood up and scooped me into his arms and tossed me onto the bed. I felt a little freaky suddenly. I got up quickly. He stopped in mid-stride and looked at me closely. "I shouldn't have done that," he said. I have no idea why I felt different in that moment, maybe it was being in his bed with him totally awake. Maybe it was what could have happened next, so easily. "No," I looked at the floor, "It's OK,"

He took me in his arms and pressed his face in my hair. He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes going all the way into me. A wave of feeling went through me, it was so strong it knocked the air out of me. "I-" I said, and then I realized what he'd almost said all this time, every time he stopped himself, because I almost did it. I almost told him I loved him. I was shaky all through. I already told him once, but that was different, he needed to know then, it was important. Now it would have been all emotional and really intense, too intense. I needed to go. I needed to get some air and think. "I know," he said. He was wavering a little as he stood there, he was really tired, and still weak, but even then he understood what I needed, I could see it in his eyes, I could feel it. There was that feeling, the first feeling I ever had about him, that he accepted me and what I needed, no exceptions. He's always been like that. I never feel uncomfortable around him for more than a second at a time. I grabbed his hips and tossed him onto the bed. He bounced in the pillows, smiling. "Get some rest," I said, "I have to go be the Slayer," "Be careful," he said, "Spike's leftover minions will be around tonight. They'll be weak, but they'll be around," "Dust bunnies," I said. I kissed him. It's a little weird, it's almost like when you know something you can't tell someone because you promised you wouldn't but it's right on the tip of your tongue all the time. It's one simple sentence but I just know it would change everything. I don't know how, or why. I know we both feel it. It would almost be a relief, to just say it and get it over with, but I'm still scared to. And I'm scared about him saying it...but I'm more scared he won't....I'm so confused. On a gut level I love Slaying. I can't BELIEVE I just wrote that, but sometimes I do. It's simple. Really simple. Find vampire, stake vampire, go home. It's not always that easy, but most of the time it is. It beats school in a lot of ways. It beats a lot of things for simplicity. I don't want everything to be simple, it's just that I have two lives and I haven't even grown up yet. I guess I'm getting pretty close to grown up, though. Why is that depressing? I should be excited. But the guesswork is gone, there's no, "What will I be when I grow up?" For me, again, it's simpler. The question is, "Will I get to grow up?" According to Angel, I will. I believe him. He's pretty smart.

Buffy's Diary December 5, 1997

Timeline: Entry made the night Buffy meets Ted, after meeting Giles in the park.

God, that's creepy! When did she meet him? Scared me to death, I thought somebody was after Mom...actually, I still have the feeling somebody's after Mom. How long has this been going on? I don't like him. I can hear everybody now. But I don't like him, I've got a bad feeling. He's like, instant-family guy. Wanting the meeting me to be "perfect". "Gosh," he says.....who says GOSH???? What century is that word from? "Gosh," he says, "That makes you pretty important to me, too," Important???? He doesn't even know me!!!! I just realized that I haven't been appreciating Angel in that way. He never says geeky things like, "Golly gee," or anything stupid like that. He doesn't act OLD. And not all vampires are like that, either. A lot of them are stuck in a decade. Angel just sort of goes with the now. I'll have to thank him for not putting me through the trauma of carbondated vocabulary. UGH! He sure has Will and Xander won over, though. Already. He works fast. That's what it seems like. Like he's working us. Ted. I don't know who the Hell this guy is or where he comes from but it's not good, I can just feel it, something is stinky here. What is Mom thinking? Sometimes I just look at her and I can't imagine how we're related. She's in this totally different zone. I mean, he's fat and everything. At least Dad runs in the morning. And Dad doesn't act like he knows everybody already. There's something about that that's really pushy. Computers, maybe, but the guy has a personality like a car salesman, like somebody who finds out your name and then uses it a the start of every sentence all day, as if using your name will work on you like a drug. It's...manipulative. That's the word I want. And as usual, I'm the only one who sees it. This is one of those times where having a Slayer sense SUCKS. I went to Angel's late. I just really needed to talk.

"There's this guy..." I said. I stopped, because I was so upset it was like I forgot how to talk for a minute, "My Mom...met this guy, and he was at my house, and they kind of scared me because I didn't know about him and the door was open, and Xander and Willow like instantly love the guy, and he's acting like he OWNS my mother, and-" "Sit down," he said softly. I couldn't. I kept pacing. "I just...I don't like to be scared when it comes to my Mom, you know, and I don't know who he thinks he IS, and-" "Your Mom had a date?" "Apparently not the FIRST time, with him," I said, and I paused to get breath, "I guess this has been going on for a while now," "And she didn't tell you?" "I guess he did some computer stuff at the gallery-" "Lay down," he said. I looked at him. "What?" "Lay down on the floor," I had no idea what he was planning but I was so upset I didn't care. I laid down on the rug with my head on my arms. It slowed me down a little. "I just have no idea...what she's THINKING, and I don't get why-" I heard a soft flop beside me. He had thrown some towels on the floor beside me. Then he threw down some cushions. "What are you doing?" I asked. "What was your impression of him?" he asked. I heard him running water in the bathroom sink. "Well-not good. Not good. All that peppy UP-talk. Yuck." I wasn't explaining myself well. He knelt on the floor above my head. "Roll over," he said. I did. He slid a folded towel under my head and brushed my hair up and away from my temples. I sighed. "I'm sorry," I said.

His hands were warm. He must have warmed them up in hot water or something. He put his hands on the crown of my head and just held my head in his hands. The funniest thing happened. I felt the angst running out of me. He stroked my forehead and my temples lightly in sweeping motions, moving his thumbs across my eyebrows over and over. He slid his hands under my head and leaned back very slightly. I felt a big shuddering sigh start deep inside me and then escape. He stroked my face for a while, with practiced, smooth movements. He slowed gradually, then he kissed my forehead. He was arranging cushions and towels beside me on the floor. "Where did you learn that?" I asked him. My voice surprised me, it was calm. "Around. Roll over," he said, pushing me, and I found myself lying on cushions with my head on my arms. He was rubbing his hands together. He put a hand on my arm. "Cold?" he asked me. "No," I said. His fingers went lightly up and down my back, over my bare shoulders and over the cloth of my top. He was being really thorough. His thumbs started moving more firmly up the back of my neck. "Sometimes I wish you'd tell me things about you," I said. "There's plenty of time for that," he said softly, and I felt warm inside. I was smiling. "I bet there's a lot to tell," I said. I could almost feel him smiling. I heard him laugh softly. "Take a deep breath," he said. I did. He pressed his thumb into a muscle in my back,"Let it out," he said, and when I did he very gradually pulled his thumb away and I could feel the nerves all the way through me letting go. It was starting to feel strange, though, I was starting to feel nervous somehow. "Again," he said, and I took another breath, but when he pushed on another muscle I felt myself tense up. Something was rising in me. "Let it go," he said. I did and it came out like a moan. "Good," he said. "I feel better," I said. "Not yet," he said, and he did it again. This time I was really feeling something, it was looming up inside me and I was starting to fight it.

"Don't keep it in," he said. "Angel-" "Breath out," I did, but it came out in a sob, and I tensed up. His hands moved over me again, very gently, until I started to relax again, but then he went right back to it. He had found something in me and he wasn't going to let it go. It freaked me a little, because it wasn't something I was into, I did not want to go there. I was starting to breathe harder. "Deep," he said, "Don't breathe shallow, nice and deep," His hands moved over my back and then zeroed in on that spot again, and I felt something release. It wasn't good. I sobbed. "Good," he said, and then it took me, all of this feeling out of nowhere. I cholked but I couldn't keep it back. I sobbed once, and then the gates opened. I have no idea where it came from but he seemed to be expecting it. He took me in his arms and I just let loose and cried. "It's OK, it's OK," he kept whispering, and that just made it worse, I was groaning into his chest and shaking, and the tears just kept coming. I cried for a while and he held me like he always does, like somebody who's got all the time in the world and wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I pretty much emptied myself. He pushed me back onto the cushions and ran his hands over me in big, gentle strokes. I almost fell asleep. Then he was beside me on the floor and my head was on his chest. "Thanks," I said. I didn't know what else to say. He laughed. "Don't say that," he said gently. "What should I say?" He looked at me. He kissed my forehead. "There's more bothering you than this new guy," he said. "What do you mean?" He kissed me. "Only you know what it is," he said. I sighed. It still annoys me when he's cryptic, but I wasn't going to cop an attitude. I did feel a little better, really full of energy, after that. And, maybe he's right. He's right a lot. He's also frustrating a lot.

I changed the bandages on his hand and left, because I had to meet Giles in the park. Angel will be all the way back to full strength soon. It's a relief, but I'll miss the nursing thing a little. Not enough to see him hurt again, though. Ever. So....maybe the message from all of this is, I'm overreacting. Giles acted like he almost felt sorry for that vampire I killed. So maybe I'm being hysteria girl. I should consider that. I really should. This shouldn't be bothering me so much. I should chill. But I have a really dark feeling about all of this. I will try. But I'm not going to walk around in a Ted haze. Something isn't right, it just isn't right.

Buffy's Diary December 6, 1997

Timeline: The night Buffy visits Angel in Ted Extra disclaimer: An entire scene from an episode of BTVS is included in this chapter. I did not write it, it is the property of Joss Whedon and all of the writers, actors and directors who work on the show. Lines I have borrowed from the episode are marked with an asterisk *

It really kind of hurts to have my friends standing up for Ted. They're not Slayers, they don't know what I mean when I say that I just know something is wrong with him. Where's Kendra when I need her? She'd probably just kill him on sight...but then, she doesn't have a Mom. Maybe I'm overreacting. Nope. My spider sense is building a web. Miniature golf. Ordinarily, I guess I just would have thought, why not? But I just didn't want to go anywhere with him. He makes me jumpy. What is it? Not just the Freudianissue thing...there's something about the way he talks, like every word is measured, set up in a line like dominoes before he says them, and there's something overly dated in his vocabulary. People on Andy Griffith talk like him, but my Dad isn't even that bad. And there's something...dense about him, too solid, physically. He stands as if he weighs 400 pounds, even though he couldn't weigh over 350. Mean. No, NOT mean. At least Angel's almost all better. I went over after dinner. He'd put the lock on because he had to get up to let me in, but he picked me up in his arms and kissed me as he carried me in. He was even wearing a shirt, so his chest was all healed up. He set me down.

"Hi," he said. Why is it that I can never quite remember how pretty he is? His face changes in different light but he's always beautiful. Also, he looked so good, better than since Spike got him, and I loved seeing that. "Hi," I said, "You're better. You look great," He smiled and I thought about how I never tell him stuff like that, and I really should. I guess when someone is obviously beautiful you tend to think they know it and don't need to hear it, but it's not true. Angel can't see himself in a mirror anymore. It's really a shame. "You look great, too," he said warmly, "How's your Mom?" My heart sank a little. I didn't want to talk about Ted, but I did anyway. I got the bandages and started changing his hand. It was almost completely closed, but I wrapped it anyway. I will miss playing nursemaid. He was used to the routine by now, he was handing me tape strips so I could finish it up. I was talking about Ted, and I must have been yammering, because when I said, "I'm sorry if I don't want to talk about TED all the time,"*he interrupted me and said, "So, are you going to talk about something else at some point?"* I really had been going on. "I'm sorry,"* I said, "I just have so much to deal with, I don't need some new guy in my life,"* "No,"* he said, handing me another strip of tape, "But maybe your Mom does,"* True. I'm sure, really true. "Well, sure,"* I said, "If you're gonna use wisdom,"* He laughed. "Loneliness is about the scariest thing there is,"* he said, and I saw it on his face, he knew something about that. "OK, so my Mom needs a guy in her life,"* I said, I was starting to pout but I couldn't help it, "Does it have to be TED?"* "You have somebody else in mind? Is there a guy out there that would satisfy you?"* he asked. "My Dad?"* I said, it was one of those things you don't even know you're going to say out loud, really. He looked at me with so much kindness in his eyes, he knew I was hurting, but he wasn't going to help me lie to myself. "Yeah,"* I sighed, "OK, that's not going to happen. Fine, fine. I'll give TED a chance. I'll play mini golf and I'll smile and curtsey and be the dutiful daughter," I paused, thinking out loud again, but I looked at him, "Do I have to like him?"*

"Kiss me,"* he said sweetly, and a little rush went through me. I leaned over him. "Finally something I wanna do,"* I said, and I kissed him. He wrapped his arms around me and twisted, rolling on top of me. His strength was almost all the way back, I could feel it. He'd be better in a day or two, totally. He slid his forearms under my head and kissed me and I felt myself heating up faster than I even usually do. It was exciting to feel the strength in him, and the craving in him. It was like I'd been away and he'd missed me. His kisses were hungry, he was dipping his tongue in my mouth in strong strokes and his fingers held my face, tilting my mouth to his, and I started to quiver. He tasted good, as always, and his mouth is satiny-smooth and cool and he teased me, taking little sections of my lips in his teeth and gliding his tongue along them. It was making me whine. I arched up so I could brush my chest against his. He stopped kissing me and looked at me, holding my face, his thumb caressing my lower lip. He looked so hungry, his eyes were hungry, and worried. "Sometimes, I want you so badly-" he said. "Me, too," I blurted. "And I-" he stopped, he couldn't say it, and I sat up, leaning back against the arm of the couch. I reached for him and brought him up to me. He was up on his knees. "Touch me," I said. He looked into my eyes and took my breasts in his hands. He'd never done that before, so directly like that, it surprised me and electricity shivered through me, quick and jagged. I said his name, loudly. I held his hands down with mine. He pushed his face into my chest and stayed like that for a while, shaking. I stroked my fingers through his thick, soft hair, I ran my hands over his neck and his shoulders. "Angel, just touch me," His fingers moved over me in big, greedy caresses. He kissed me, sweeping his tongue over mine and sucking gently on my tongue. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him down onto me; he was so hard I jumped, and I said, "Oooh,". I pulled him closer, crushing him onto me, and I moved down so I could rub against him. "Buffy-Buffy-" he pulled back, sitting up. He looked at me from under his eyebrows, like an animal about to charge, it was a look almost like a warning. I pushed him onto his back and crawled up on top of him. I unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest between buttons. He was tense, his muscles jumped under my lips. His skin is rich and satiny, and he smelled like a strange spice, something I haven't tasted before. I kissed him all the way down to his belt. His stomach was rock-hard, it was like he wanted to bolt but couldn't get away. I pushed him back again, harder, because he was half sitting up. "Buffy-" "Shhh," I was thinking about the other night, about how beautiful he was under his clothes, about the salty, tingly taste, about him moaning in his sleep, and I was getting

wet. I placed my hand on him, very gently, feeling how hard he was through his pants, and he gasped. "BUFFY-" his voice was stern, but I didn't care. For one thing, it wasn't the first time, whether he knew that or not, and for another thing, I wanted to. I grasped him in my hand; it was nice, I liked having him in my hand again, it was almost possessive. He was making wonderful sounds. He throbbed and I stroked him, hopefully hard enough but not too hard. I wasn't going to totally assault him. I just kept up what I was doing, and I started kissing his chest again, taking mouthfuls of him, taking his nipples in my mouth, stroking him strongly, and listening to him moan. I wanted to get my hands on it for real, but I just felt like it wasn't the right time. I pulled down his zipper slowly, almost like I was sneaking, and he stopped my hand. I took his hand and put it down on the couch and kept on. He tried to stop me with both hands. I couldn't take his wrist in even one of my hands because they're too thick, but I grabbed his thumbs and pressed them into the cushions over his head, and after that there wasn't much he could do about it. I kissed him lower, dipping my tongue in his belly button, and I reached inside his pants. He was wearing silky feeling boxers, so I didn't go any further this time, I just started stroking him again, and the slippery material slid over him and I started speeding up my strokes and squeezing a little harder. I could feel the shape of him in my hand so much better, the thick length of him. I stroked up almost completely over the tip, letting my fingertips linger over it for just a second, then kept up my strokes, squeezed him. He started saying my name over and over, it was so beautiful...I kissed his belly lower and lower, I thought about what he tasted like, his skin tastes a little like almonds, but I was thinking again about how salty and creamy that one taste was, and I wondered what he would feel like in my mouth, and I looked up at him. He was watching me and the minute I looked at him he threw his head back and gritted his teeth and then he shouted and his hips drove upward, he couldn't help it. I was so happy, it felt wonderful to give him that. It's always been me. Now, for once, I pleased him. He was trembling and I wrapped myself around him and laid there with him. I sighed, a big, long sigh, and I started to understand how he could be so giving all the time. It was the best; I'd love to just grab him and make him happy whenever I felt like it. It was really sexy and really...satisfying. "You'll never know how beautiful you are," I said. He shuddered again. He stroked my hair, looking at my face, and he looked....fragile, vulnerable, and also relieved for some reason. I wrapped myself around him tight and held him for a long time. I rocked him. I was amazed by how intensely giddy I felt, I couldn't stop kissing him. He gave himself to me, that's what it is. He really opened up, he really trusted me. It really is an act of trust, when you think about it. It's such an intensely personal thing. If he had really wanted me to stop, I would have, and he knew it. He released himself with me. I didn't know how that would make me feel, I felt warm and light and....high, or something. I've never actually been high, but I bet it's not as good as that. It couldn't be. Nothing else in the world is that good. Well, maybe some things...and I'm a DOG. I can't believe the way I'm starting to think about him. Guys are supposed to have a sexual thought every few seconds, so I think I must be the only girl who's playing co-ed on that field.

Speaking of which, tomorrow I have to "swing the iron with the old people". How am I going to pretend to give Ted a chance when I know there's something up? I'm always on edge around him and I know I can't hide it. Maybe I'll just try to keep my mind off it. At least I have something good to think about.

Buffy's Diary December 7-9, 1997

Timeline: Starts after dinner with Ted

(Entry made after dinner, Dec. 7) That's it. Mom may be walking around in a Ted daze, but if he threatens me again I'm going to have to take him up on it. Threats, I don't do. I don't take that kind of crap from the undead or any assortment of demons and I'm absolutely not going to take it from him again. He definitely sees me as a threat, because he's setting up situations to tick me off. Something's going on here. If he was for real, he'd make a real effort. This is not a real effort, this smells like a conquest. Mom doesn't have money, otherwise it would be obvious. It's something else. I went to Ted's office today. "The machine", they call him. So, he's got a marriage date lined up, and he didn't ask Mom, he just assumed she'd take him up on it. I'm not sure what his angle is, but she thinks she's in love with him. IN LOVE. She doesn't believe anything I say. She's acting DRUGGED. "I'm not going anywhere," he says. He really thinks it's that easy, to waltz in and take over a life. It's not that easy. I need to go kill something ugly.

(Entry made early morning, Dec 8) I don't know what to do but I can't face Angel right now, because I can't tell him I killed someone. I guess right now I know how it feels, to have done something you're really

ashamed of, that you really regret.. I don't see how I had any options. But I guess, neither did Angel. The problem is, I'm not controlled by a demon. I was controlled by my own anger. I was hoping Ted would hit me. And now he's dead. Mom will never forgive me for that. I just know she won't. I had issues, Xander was right. I did. And I knew I could hurt him, and I hurt him. I killed him. I guess I should probably worry about what the cops are going to do, but I can't even care what happens now. I'm not the person I thought I was. I guess I always thought, deep down anyway, that I was decent. I'm not sure anymore. Decent people don't kill other people just because they don't like them. Maybe it happens to Slayers, I don't know...you have a licence to kill vampires, so maybe it erodes your humanity, maybe it makes it easier to kill anybody.I don't want to be like that. I never wanted to be like that. I really didn't mean to kill him. He just kept kept fighting so hard.... Nobody is going to believe me about this. Maybe they shouldn't. I wish I could just stay in my room for a while. I don't even know what to say to Giles. He'll be so ashamed of me. I can't face Mom, and she doesn't want to talk to me anyway. What would Angel think of me? I'm a murderer. I don't know what to do. I killed someone. I killed someone.

(Dec.8) Mom won't talk to me. Everybody is walking around me like...like I'm a murderer, which I am. Will and Xand are being very nice about it but I know they're shocked and now they don't know what to think anymore. This always seems to happen....but it's not because I'm the Slayer...or is it? I don't know which is worse, home or school. But it's not them. It's living with myself. Giles was gentle to me but I must have disgraced him, it must be so horrible for him. Angel would be so put off by me now. He never did anything like this, not when he had a soul. I wish Mom would just talk to me. I just want to tell her that I didn't mean to, that he really was fighting me...would she even believe me? I'm always in trouble, but I can't blame this on vampires. I can't blame it on anybody else. Maybe I'm not safe to be around, maybe the cops and everybody else are right. I can't think about this anymore. Not right now. Maybe Mom will talk to me later. I'm going to do the only other thing that really relaxes me, I'm going to polish stakes.

(Early AM, Dec. 9) Thank God for my sometimes-unappreciated friends. They really came through tonight. Willow and Xand came right over and got Ted, I'm so glad Mom was out for all of it. At least she doesn't have a concussion or anything. God, when I got him with the frying pan and his face split open and he was MACHINERY underneath at first I thought I was having one big long dream these last few days. It explains everything. Well, sort of. Willow and Xander. I was so unfair before, they never stopped believing in me. They really didn't. I'm so lucky. I never knew anybody could have friends like that, much less somebody with complications like me. I'm not easy to hang out with, but they stuck by me, the whole time. They went and investigated Ted, and then they helped me explain it all to Mom. After we all made Ted disappear. I am so RELIEVED I can't even see straight! I didn't kill anybody. That was close...or maybe it wasn't. I had a really strong urge to take him out right from the beginning, so maybe my instincts are good. But you can't be too careful. Ever. I'm just glad it's over. And I'm glad I'm not a murderer. And maybe next time there's a weird situation Mom will actually listen to me. That's pushing it.

Buffy's Diary January 8, 1998

Timeline: After the episode, Ted, and before Bad Eggs. There was a three week break between the airing of Ted and the airing of Bad Eggs. Buffy's been on Christmas vacation. This is the night she gets back home from visiting LA.

Christmas in LA was cool, except I missed everybody, but it's good to have time with Dad. And I saw a couple of old schoolmates (I really can't call them friends, exactly, now that I know more about what friends really are) and that was all right, too, but I'm just glad to be back to Sunnydale. Somehow that looks really wrong on the paper, but it's true. If it weren't for the people here, for Mom, of course, and for Giles and Willow and Xander and especially Angel, I'd be a complete loser for wanting to be here. Or maybe

I'd just be a Slayer. A lone Slayer. Like Kendra. Yuck. Her life has to suck, I don't care how smart she is or how she makes all that dedication to "duty" sound, it's just got to suck. I was going to go right to Angel's apartment tonight, but something in me smelled vampire and I got that urge I get. I stopped by the cemetery on the way. I flushed out three vampires and staked them. They went down like dominos. It had been weeks since I'd slain and I was feeling itchy for it. They were beautiful kills, everything went smooth as silk. I was having a really good night. Roundhouse punch, stake. A fakeout punch followed by a jump front snap kick to the head, stake. Turning back kickhook kick combination, stake. It was so refreshing that I almost wished there were more of them. I heard a voice behind me, and I whipped around, but it was Angel. "Wow," he smiled at me. He was leaning against a marble monument. "Sometimes it looks like you're dancing, almost," I flushed. "Thanks," was all I could think of to say. I wanted to run right into his arms, but I just stood there. He was so beautiful I just looked at him. How can I always forget how beautiful he is? "You get stronger all the time," "You think?" I brushed off my jacket. "I know. Vampires and Slayers both get stronger as they get older," "Then you'd think there would be more retired Slayers around. Die, get CPR, retire to Florida and wear designer sweat suits. Not really all that bad an idea," He looked more solemn then, he didn't say anything. "Except Florida...too many hurricanes," I said, "And alligators. Not my favorite swamp creature," I walked toward him. I was grinning and I couldn't help it. I was so happy to see him. "I know it's hard for you," he said. "Not everything about it's hard," I slid my arms around his neck. "Some things are a lot easier for me than other Slayers have had them. Like backup. What a concept," He didn't say anything, but his eyes were sparkling. He stroked my cheek.

"Please kiss me," I said suddenly, but he was already wrapping me tight in his arms and halfway into a kiss, I barely got the words out. I leaned foreword against his body, my hands slipped inside his jacket and up his back. I was starting to feel really relaxed, almost a little sleepy, but all of my nerves wake up any time he touches me, the skin all over me goes on alert. He stopped kissing me for a minute and held his mouth very close to mine, eyes closed, as if he were feeling the closeness as a different kind of kiss. I waited, and started to get antsy, I wasn't sure how he'd kiss me next and I wasn't handling the anticipation well. I pushed foreword, but he moved his face next to mine without touching, as if he were feeling the heat coming off my skin. I wanted to crawl inside his jacket with him. His lips touched mine and slipped back and forth, featherysoft. It was tickly, but nice. His nipples came up under the thin cotton of his shirt, hardening under my fingers, and I breathed a gust of breath onto his face, I was suddenly panting. I couldn't keep my fingers off his nipples. I touched them like he was kissing me, just barely, tickling them with tiny motions of my fingertips. He moved his mouth over my cheeks the same way, a whispering touch, his lips barely brushed my neck, my ears. I moaned and he moaned an answer. I ran my fingers across his chin, down his throat into his shirt and found one nipple, naked under my fingertip now. He put tiny kisses over one of my ears. It was almost like a contest, to see which one of us would lose it first, which one of us could take more. He kissed me for real then, my lips flattened under his. He mashed his mouth onto mine and we dipped our tongues together. Then I was in the air, he hoisted me up and carried me around the monument and behind it. There's a place back there where it's almost surrounded by cedars, there's a long marble tomb and some benches. He leaned me back against the marble. He was kissing my neck, first softly and then with more hunger, taking mouthfuls of my skin, biting lightly, and licking with rippling motions of his tongue. I was getting dizzy, I was starting to sweat. He bent down suddenly and picked something up. It was a white rose, left over from a wreath, probably, but it was still fresh. He broke the stem off it and stroked it under my chin. The petals were soft and it felt really nice against my throat and under my ears. He lowered his head and kissed my chest and moved the rose over me very gently, stroking it deeper into the cleavage of my top, the scent of it was coming off my skin. He lifted the stretch fabric away from me and teased the rose across my nipple, it felt amazing, because it's just moist enough, silky and cool, it was like feeling his lips there. He must have know that, he pushed the rose against my nipple a little harder so that the tip of it was inside the petals, and he twirled it very slightly in a small movement, so the petals were tickling this circle around the edge of it, and then he took my other nipple in his mouth and I lost it completely. I was pushing against him and I was making way too much noise, and I had to really try to stay quiet, but it was impossible. I pushed my face into his shoulder and bit a mouthful of his shirt until I could get a grip. His arms went around me and he kissed me. I was still moaning into his mouth, and I could feel his lips curl under mine in a smile. I hung on to him until I had it together again, and he running his hands over me sweetly and whispering to me, whispering my name. He put the rose in my hand. He slid his hand into my sweats and stroked my belly and started kissing my neck again.

He was tenderly stroking my belly, when he does that, below my belly button but above THERE, it's mind-bending, I don't know why. It makes me want him to touch me down there, so badly. I was soaking. After he had me almost crazy he slipped his hand lower and a million butterflies fluttered right through me, I gasped. His fingers were so gentle, so patient, slipping between my legs, and he pressed his cheek to mine and moaned. His other hand was on the small of my back, and he pulled me to him, close, and started whispering things into my hair, things I couldn't quite hear, because I was making too much noise. He was kissing my cheeks, murmuring, and then he slipped a finger almost in, and left it there, still kissing me, still whispering. I felt my legs go out for a second, and he clasped his arm around me, holding me up. "I've got you," he said softly, "Just lean on me," I shivered and pushed my hips toward his finger and it slipped inside me a little. It's completely different from my fingers there. For one thing, his fingers are a lot bigger than mine, but for another, it's just electrical, it's so good, it's so good that I was really starting to lose my mind. I moved again and his finger went deeper. He didn't want to do that, himself, I realized, he wanted me to take it as I wanted it. He kissed my mouth, sweet, wet kisses, nibbling on my lips. I locked my arms around his neck, I was trembling so hard that I felt really unsteady, and then suddenly something inside me exploded and I was screeching into his mouth and driving my hips so that his finger was almost all the way inside me; he pushed another finger there, too, and slid it into me, and then all I knew was how good it was, and pushed my face into his chest and let myself yell about it. I was completely helpless, while it was happening. I couldn't have staked anything, I didn't even know where I was. All I could hear was my heart pounding, I was completely shattered. I started to come down and right away I felt so naked and on the edge of severe embarrassment, but the way he kisses me, I can't feel less than safe. He whispered, "Give me a rose petal," and I wondered what he was thinking, but I peeled a big petal off the bloom and he took it delicately in his fingers and then reached down with it and wrapped it over that one spot, that incredibly sensitive spot and started massaging me there with it, little motions. The texture of the petal was like buttered velvet, very soft, but it clung to the flesh...it was a completely new feeling, and it was really intense. I even stopped wondering about where he learned all this stuff. He was stroking me with the petal and his other hand slipped slowly down my belly and then lower, pushing my sweats down just enough and very gently pushing his fingers inside me again, and my body throbbed around his fingers and I was sure I was going to pass out. He started stroking me inside with his fingertips, curling his fingers under my belly, very gently, and he went down on his knees and took the petal off me and took that one spot into his mouth and started sucking on it carefully and then I saw black, because I was gone. It was almost like pain, the way it goes so deep into you and it just won't stop, it controls you, it....becomes you. Or you become it. It was the most intense thing that's ever happened to me. I was so wet that it was flowing down the insides of my thighs. My legs were trembling like I'd been doused in ice water. He stood up and put his hand on the back of my head and crushed my mouth with his. I could taste myself, which at first made me hold my breath a little, I wasn't sure about that at all. It was a metallic kind of taste, but almost sweet, too, so I was relieved.

His face was all moist, and he kissed me wetly. I felt my legs go out, and he knew, he was right there and he picked me up. He sat down on a bench with me in his lap and he squeezed me so hard that I almost yelped. I shivered in his arms and tried to get my breath, I was making sobbing sounds, I couldn't seem to stop, and I was hanging on to him as if we were twenty stories up on a ledge. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "Was it too much?" His arms surrounded me, if he'd been a blanket I would have been wrapped up in him with only my eyes peeking out. His hands started moving over me again, as if he were saying hello to my arms and my neck and my hands, all of me. I finally relaxed against him and I started to feel really sleepy. I got my breath back and I buried my face in his neck to smell him: Ivory soap. I'm starting to love that smell. The parts of me were coming back together, like a puzzle, I started to feel like myself again. Suddenly I giggled. "Miss me?" I said. I couldn't help it. "Yes," he purred. Home, sweet home on the Hellmouth. I have to admit it, though, it's a little hard. Because he's becoming more than just somebody I think about a lot, and it's not just the way he touches me. The way he touches me says a lot, but it says how he feels about me, and the way I feel about him....the way I missed him...it's more than just when people say they love somebody, it's more like he's part of me. He IS a part of me. He's more than somebody I'll be in love with for a while and then break up with and have more boyfriends and then meet the right guy some day. HE'S the right guy, but not even in a way I could ever explain to anyone else. The only person who would understand any of this is him. I know he feels it, too, I know he knows. No one else will ever know me like he does, ever. No one else will ever love me like this. I just know it. There's so much of me that only he will ever understand. It's scary, because it makes him so essential to me. I almost NEED him. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. But it's true. How can it be a bad thing, to care about somebody so much and feel so close to them? Is it wrong to love someone this much? It's like that feeling I had with him tonight, being high up...it's like standing out on a ledge and the rest of your life looks so small by comparison, so far away, like the way people look like ants if you're up high enough. Everything else shrinks, but it gives you a shivery feeling in your legs, and you think what would happen if you fell... But I don't plan on falling. I plan on making the things he says come true. I'm going to keep slaying and I'm going to stay alive and have a real life. And I'm going to love him. That's what makes it all worth it.

Buffy's Diary January 10-11, 1998

Timeline: The afternoon after Buffy meets Lyle Gorch in the mall in the episode, Bad Eggs Big huge love to seneca and Lexy. You guys got me through a bronchial infection. I needed those letters. I big-huge love you.

Entry made late afternoon, Jan. 10 That was SUCH a great outfit at the mall last night, Mom just doesn't get it. I mean, look what they wore in the seventies. Yike. I just know she's never going to let me buy it. It would take probably five months of allowance anyway, but I'd just like Angel to see me in all that leather. School gets weirder and weirder. An egg. Whatever. Cowboy vampire. Interesting, in a really repulsive way. He was a coward, he ran and I had to get back to Mom. He's stupid and weak, but he could still do some damage. He needs to be dusted. Gorches. That's what they looked like in Giles' book, some old West geek name like Gorch. Anyway, it's an extra excuse to see Angel. Like I need one. But anyway, Giles did suggest it. Safety in numbers. I'll just have to ask Angel to help me hunt tonight. I think he'll probably be game.

Entry made early morning, Jan 11 We met in the cemetery at ten, because I had so much homework to do and I had to be home early. Well, relatively early. Usually I don't even go out until about eleven. We tried to hunt. We really did. But when I see him and the way he looks at me, like he sees all the happiness in the world in one place, like he can't wait to get his hands on me, I just melt completely. Anybody would. It's amazing, the way he looks at me. He was walking up the path and he saw me and smiled. He walked right up and wrapped his arms around me and the air went out of me. How am I ever going to get enough of him? We kissed for a while, we didn't even talk. Then, we tried to hunt. Then we started kissing again. It went like that for a while, and then we finished a couple of rounds of the

cemetery and we didn't see anything, and then we were kissing again and time just completely faded. I didn't care what time it was. I didn't care about anything but him. I started walking backward, because we were near that little alcove behind the mausoleum that we were at last night, and I liked the privacy back there, so I started pulling him back there with me. We turned and stumbled a little and laughed, and then we were in the cedars. His mouth was all over my neck, he was holding my ponytail and pulling my head back, not too hard, just enough so his mouth could reach under my chin. I was stroking his neck with one hand and my other hand unbuttoned his shirt the same way he always touches me, no hurry. I gasped a little as my hand slipped over his chest, it's so cool and silky. He's....what's the word I want? He's exquisite. That's it. His skin is so smooth it's addictive, the shape of him is rich, the way the muscle curves under the skin, his pecs, the ripples on his stomach. He's lean but he's cut just enough, and I was all-out worshipping him with my eyes and my hands, wondering how I was ever going to get enough of him, ever. His eyes were closed. He whispered, "I wish you'd never stop touching me," "Deal," I said, and took a nipple in my mouth. He made a deep crooning sound. I allowed my hand to go lower, tentatively, but he didn't stop me. I pulled at his belt buckle and slipped the leather away from the silver, then I released the button underneath, and he didn't stop me then, either. I was thinking about why going slow was so important to him, why he never wanted to rush anything between us, why he was so careful about that. I'd waited so long for this, this chance to just undress him when he was awake, that it was really intense. I'd thought about doing it a million times. I was so hyped that I was almost jumpy, my hands were shaking, and it wouldn't have felt like this if we'd done everything all at once. Waiting, even for the little things, makes everything a lot more exciting. It makes everything we do to each other magical. Just undoing his belt was making me wet, I could feel it starting inside myself. His hands moved over my arms, my shoulders, my neck inside my jacket. I was wearing a thin top underneath and I knew my nipples were hard because they were starting to ache, and I knew he could see them. He took my hands and kissed my palms, he leaned forward and kissed my cheeks as he put my hands back on him. A rush went through me and I moaned. His hands moved up my back, up the back of my neck, into my hair. He pulled the elastic out of my hair and ran his fingers through it. I slipped one hand down his stomach and pulled his zipper down with the other, finally finding it, my fingers crawling through the zipper, and then through the opening in the silk, and I took him in my hand. He pushed his lips against my forehead and said, "Ohhh," his voice escalating. He felt wonderful in my hand, so hard, but the skin on him so velvety and tender, I was dizzy, I paused for a second, squeezing his hardness with both hands now, and a sudden, vivid thought jumped into my mind: I wanted him inside me more than I had ever wanted anything in my whole life, I would beg, I would bargain, I would push for it, but I knew it wasn't time yet. For a second I just leaned against him, my chest heaving, and tried to

pull myself together. He seemed to understand completely, he slipped his arms around me and held me. "I'm dizzy," I said. "We'll stop," he said, his voice was soft and calm. "I just need a minute," "There'll be lots of minutes," I could hear that gentle smile in his voice. "No, I mean-" "Go with how you feel, always," he said, "Let's stop," "I don't want to stop, Angel," I snapped, "I just need a minute," Then I felt bad, but when I looked up at him he was smiling. A laugh burst out of me. "I'm sorry," I said. "Don't be. You're wonderful," His eyes were brimming with-I know what it is...he looks at me with so much affection, I feel safe, I feel more cared about then I ever have. I pressed my face against his chest and inhaled. He smelled like almonds, faintly. I smiled against him. I slipped my lips over his other nipple, my hands crept low again and I wrapped my fingers around him. He was still hard, but he hardened even more. "Ah!" he said, his eyes softening. He kissed me softly and whispered,"Buffy", as if I had just handed him the present in the world. I went to my knees in front of him. He was startled by that, he bent foreward and tried to lift me up. "No," I said. "Buffy," "What?" I took him in my hands again. Then I realized there would be a problem...his legs were too long, he was too far above me. I took his hand and pulled him over to a nearby bench. I sat down on it and pulled him toward me. "Buffy-" "Shhh!" I said, a little too strongly. "Buffy, no," I slid my hand over the length of him and pulled him foreword with my other hand, by a belt loop. I pressed my cheek against the long hardness of it and looked up at him.

"You get to. How come I don't get to?" He shuddered as he looked down at me. He looked desperate and helpless, just the way I wanted him to be right now. I wanted him to be desperate for me to touch him and helplessly needing me. I loved it, it was so sexy my knees were weak. In my dreams it was easy, and I've read some things, so I had some idea of what I wanted to do to him, but most of all I just wanted him, I wanted to make him feel so good that he lost his mind, and that was inspiration enough. I slipped my hands over him, up and down with constant motion, touching him all over. He moaned with this breathy sound and bared his teeth. I swept my tongue over it, just tasting, and I was captivated by the texture of him, I needed to cover him with my tongue then, so I licked him all over, luxuriantly, making him as wet as I could so he was all slippery and my lips and hands were sliding on him. He was making 'Ohhhh' sounds and that just inspired me. I rubbed my lips over him, I licked the tip of him, I got so involved in exploring how that felt to him, just making my tongue swirl and stroke and glide over him. I started to stroke him with a nice, strong, even motion, and his moans got louder. It was so gratifying. I must have been doing it right, at least a lot of it right. I knew when I tried to take him in my mouth there wouldn't be much leeway, so I was careful, because I didn't want to scrape him with my teeth. I went really gradually, first taking mouthful after mouthful of the tip and then releasing him, so I could get the feel of it. He even seemed to be liking that. He was stroking my hair back from my face and running his fingers over my cheek. I loved it that he was watching me, the thought of it made me wet. Everything I was doing made me wet, I was slippery and hot. I opened my mouth and relaxed, like you're supposed to, you're supposed to relax your jaw and your throat, so I tried to. He was really big, but I was really determined, and I was in no hurry. I learned about that from him. I managed to get the whole tip of him in my mouth, and then I tried moving my tongue over him that way, and I glanced up and saw him staring down at me. He looked almost shocked. I almost giggled, because it made me so happy that I could do this to him, so I moved down, taking him deeper, being careful, but trying to keep my tongue moving. I was stroking him even harder, nice and even, and I was letting the juices from my mouth just run down so he stayed slick. I pulled up, then moved down a little further. It was a strain on my jaw, but not too bad. It was way worth the sounds he made, those sounds full of longing and surprise and desire. They were driving me nuts. I pulled up, sucking a little, and went down again. I was starting to get the hang of it, and I started trying different things with my tongue, different motions. I was thinking, I could do this for hours if my jaw wouldn't go numb. It was so nice, to have him like this, not just because he loved it so much, but also because he was so vulnerable to me now, he had so much trust in me and so much patience. Most of all, he was sharing something intensely private with me. I wanted to lavish him with my mouth and my hands, I wanted to spoil him completely.

He was almost singing my name, very softly. I took him as deep as I could, over and over. I felt him throb strongly in my hand, he pulsed in my mouth, and I drew more tightly on him and dipped faster. I was only taking about half of him, but I was trying to gradually do more. His whole body was shivering, the muscles in his thighs were taut, and he put his hand on my face and pushed gently on me, like he was pushing me away. I'd heard about that. He thought it would be rude, but I wanted to taste him. I pushed his hand aside and took him even deeper, sliding up and down the length of him faster and faster. I reached one hand around his hip and pulled him even closer and moved my tongue more. His hips jerked foreword and I had to back up, because he drove right into the back of my throat. I didn't let it slow me down, though, because I didn't want him to make me stop. I took him as deep as I could and I looked up at him, our eyes locked and I slowed for just a second, and then I picked up the pace again, and then he was crying out and pulsing in my mouth. He flooded my mouth. It was salty, intensely salty and cool, with a tingly sweetness in it. He was still jerking and moaning, and still hard, so I kept him in my mouth for a while. My heart was pounding, I was so wet. I felt so light, a heady lightness. He's the most exciting thing in the world. I felt like I did after he had been at me, I felt released and warm and relaxed. It's almost like I feel after a great workout. It was a whole new way I could have him, he loved it, and I was so happy about all of it that I sighed and looked up at him and I said, "Wow," It sounds dumb, but it was just what I wanted to say. He pulled me up and wrapped his arms tight around me, his face in my hair. He was still shaking. I reached down and gently closed him back up in his pants, zipped them up, and buckled his belt. I liked doing that, it was like taking care of him. I felt so close to him, then. He sat down on the bench and pulled me onto his lap and we wrapped our arms around each other and rocked for a long time. So, no Gorches tonight. I'll get them later. I just want to taste him forever. It's supposed to taste awful but I like it. Well, I like him. No. I love him. Someday I'm going to tell him. Now I have to fill out that egg diary. I'm going to name it Eggbert. I was going to draw a face on it, but that would probably be abuse or something. Teachers just really don't like it if you have too much of a sense of humor. Neither do parents.

Buffy's Diary January 12, 1998

Timeline: Just after Buffy calls gets grounded by her mother in Bad Eggs All lines from this story that are not mine, but are from the dialogue of the show, are marked with an *

One thing about life on the Hellmouth. There's no lack of variety. I don't know what this creepy-crawly thing is that came out of my egg, but I'd bet my allowance it's demonic. Mom almost saw it. So, I kill creepies and I kill vampires and I get GROUNDED. Sometimes I just want to spill everything, sometimes I just want to go off and tell her, "Mom, I'm the Slayer. It wasn't my idea, and it's not my fault, and I TOTALLY don't deserve this!" It's not like I was out partying or anything. I did see Angel, but he's hunting for me tonight, so I can get some extra rest and do better in school and I am NOT irresponsible, not EVEN!!! It would be so cool if everything I killed turned into dust, because I know Giles is going to want to look at this thing and I have to keep it in my room, it's so GROSS to think about it being there in my egg, right next to my bed, it's probably why I felt like complete crap all day. I wonder if Willow is right, if they planted it, but I just can't see the Gorches doing anything that involves creative problem solving or planning-ahead skills. They are just too stupid. But, maybe it's an act, maybe nobody's that stupid. I just can't think tonight, I've been so out of it. When I met Angel in the cemetery it was like it's been lately, we don't do that hesitating thing anymore, we just walk right into each other's arms now. It's the most gratifying thing in life. We held each other for a while and I checked out which soap he used today without saying anything about it, like usual. Ivory. And he kissed me, but then he drew back, gently. "What's up?" he asked. "Huh?" I didn't get it, "What do you mean?" "You don't feel well," he just knew. "Oh...I-I'm just a little out of it. I didn't sleep well," "You're tired. You should get to bed," "Yeah," but I was looking at him and his amazing eyes, and I forgot what we were talking about, and I put my hand on his cheek and brought his face down to get a kiss. He tasted

so nice, and his mouth knows mine now, it's like we're skating partners who've been doing choreography together forever and he knows when soft and teasing is what I want, or strong, and we respond to each other, and it gets so sexy so fast now. I start to come apart when he kisses me like that, I feel so soft all over it's like parts of me are drifting away from each other, and I'm all softness, and then we were lost in each other for a while, but I remembered that I needed to kill Gorches, so I pulled away from him this time. "I hate to say this,"* I said, "But we really should go kill bad guys,"* "It's late,"* he said, "You should get home,"* "What about the Gorches?"* "I'll hunt,"* I couldn't believe how sweet that was. He's helped me from the very beginning, from the first night I met him, but this is a whole different level of helping. "Really? You'd do that?"* "It's not like I have an early day tomorrow,"* "True," I sighed, and then I started babbling on about school and my egg diary, and somehow I got onto the subject of kids, and he went all quiet and looked somber. "I think kids would be just a little too much to deal with,"* I was saying. "I wouldn't know," he said, "I-don't-well, you know, I-I can't,"* "Oh,"* and then it all hit me. Of course, I mean, technically he's dead, so...of course. Which is probably a good thing in the greater sense because baby vampires might be kind of tough to kill. I've never had to kill one, and I hope I never do. The Anointed One, I remember him, but I didn't have to kill him. And anyway, undead multiply fast enough as it is. But it did hit me, sort of, as sad. He never had any, and he won't ever get to. I have no plans for kids anytime soon, and being the Slayer, it sort of keeps you in the now, it reminds you that life is short and nothing comes with a guarantee, except that there will be more vampires that I have to kill and they all will want to kill me. It doesn't make you feel like parenting would be the best idea. But I knew he felt bad, because the big unspoken world between us, all the possibilities that other people have and that we would naturally want to have, that big silent heavy world opened up and I felt bad, and I just kept babbling, as if it would help. I went on about about how I always thought there would be lots of things that vampires can't do, and then all of a sudden he said,

"So, you don't think about the future?"* "No,"* It was true. It makes me too frustrated to think about it. I might not have one. Actually, deep down, I refuse to believe that, I want a future and I plan on one, but at least right now, I have to do it one day at a time. After the Master and the Order of Taraka, to name just two, I sort of look at the future like I look at school. I don't dweeb out on home work, I have a social life to some extent, I get in the fun where I can, but I'm not flunking out either, because if I do get to grow up I want a decent life. I don't want to be a maid who sharpens stakes in her off-time. So, I plan on one, but I don't think about it. "Never?"* "No," * "You really don't care what happens a year from now? Five years from now?"* It just came out of me then, I almost said the "L" word. I really just opened up then, because he's so important to me, I can't just keep that to myself all the time, and we're so close now, and it feels even closer all the time. I just told him. "Angel, when I look into the future, all I see is you. All I want is you,"* It was like I was hearing myself say it, but I wasn't afraid. His eyes seemed to deepen, and in them was a whole future, the one I wanted and the one he wanted, all the dreams we never even dared to have inside ourselves were there. "I know the feeling,"* he said, and he kissed me, pulling me against him and leaning me backward so I was almost off the ground and I felt weightless and so safe and so completely happy, it made me dizzy, even dizzier than usual. He straightened up and my legs went out from under me, I guess I lost my equilibrium for a second. "I'm walking you home," he said. ""I'm OK.," "It's not far, I'll walk you," I wasn't going to make him twist my arm. We started walking, and all of a sudden we were holding hands. It was nice, because neither of us really thought about it, we just sort of reached for each other and then we were walking. I love his big, gentle hands and I love the way they warm up in mine. And I had to ask him.

"So-what do you see in five years?" He gave one of those soft little laughs. "I got so used to-existing. For so long, every night just meant one more night to get through. I never-I never thought that I-" he was silent for a minute, while we walked, "I never thought I'd be happy," We were under my window. I turned and looked up at him. "I'm happy, too," "I want that," he took my shoulders in his hands, "More than anything, that's what I want. No matter what it means," and I knew he meant whether I was happiest with him or without him. "It means this," I said, and I took his hands and drew them around my waist and I wrapped my arms around his neck and I kissed him. "I'll always be-" he stopped, and then he tried again, "I'll always be around. For you." It wasn't a promise, it was just a fact, he said it that simply. I pressed my face against his chest and nuzzled him. This is happiness, I thought. This is perfect, this is all I could ever ask for. I was melting into him. I felt so peaceful I was wishing I could just doze off and wake up right there. "Bedtime," he said. "Tuck me in?" I had to. He kissed my forehead, and my nose, and then he looked down at me. "Go to bed," he said, and I laughed. It would have been a nice night, but of course something evil had to jump out of somewhere. At least it was in-house, I didn't have to hunt this one. But I'm still wigged, I don't see how it could have been just my egg. That's the problem. That, and being grounded. It's so completely unfair it's hard to comprehend. Me. Irresponsible. What's that term from English class?

Irony. SICK irony.

Buffy's Diary January 13, 1998

Timeline: The scene at the end of Bad Eggs in Buffy's bedroom All lines not written by me, but by the show's authors, are marked by an *

I really liked that pink top, but I had to throw it out...I didn't even try to wash it. First of all, I couldn't put it in the laundry, Mom would see it and she's already mad enough...and I don't think that goo was going to come out anyway. YUCK. When I got called as the Slayer in LA there was nothing about GOO. It was vampires, danger, dust....death...not exactly fluffy girl stuff, but at least vampire dust doesn't ruin all your clothes. I lost my best slingbacks to reptile boy. No wonder I have to spend so much money on wardrobe. It's weird the way things work out...if Mom hadn't swung at me with the pickax, then she wouldn't have dropped it and I would have had to fight mommy Bazoar with my bare hands. In the moment, when I'm fighting, nothing grosses me out. Later's when I get almost-barf need. I called him. I haven't before when it wasn't an emergency. I felt so stupid about doing it and I almost hung up, but then he answered and it was the most natural thing in the world. "Hi," I said. "Hi," he said, "I just heard about what happened at the school. Are you OK?" "Oh, yeah," I said, "Just a gigantic demon Mommy Bazoar was trying to make slaves out of humanity and take over the planet with her creepy offspring. But I'm GROUNDED," "You're grounded?" he was laughing softly, "Why?" "Well, I could explain it better if I had a kiss goodnight," "But-" "I'm grounded, but she didn't say anything about saying goodnight from my window,"

"I'll see you in a few," he said. "OK," I have a feeling I'm going to meet up with that Gorch again. He's scared away for now, but he's too stupid to stay gone. They were pretty tough, but not hard to kill. I wish they were all like that, big mouth and no guts. Like Spike. He was tougher, but he had more attitude than strength. Right now I have that feeling I get when Sunnydale is basically clean. It's like when my room's clean. I know it won't last, but it's good for a day or two to just look around and feel satisfied. I was writing in my diary and I heard that soft knock behind me. Most of the time I see him in a cemetery and or at the Bronze. I don't get to look at him in direct light too often. It's been awhile. It should be illegal to look like that. He's got these beautiful white teeth and that face and those pretty eyes and when he grins it's deadly. "Sure you're all right?" he asked. I went over to the window. He was standing on the top rung of the trellis. He managed to look cool doing that. I have no idea how. "I am now," I said, and I leaned against the window sill and put my hand on his cheek and kissed him and a rush of heat went through my whole body, it's getting worse and worse....or better and better. I kissed him for a while and he was teasing me, running his lips over mine lightly and then just barely biting and slipping his tongue over my lower lip, back and forth, and he knows by now exactly what that does to me. It seems like years since we actually touched and I wanted him so badly that I felt faint. I pulled away a little. "Sure you won't get in trouble?"* he asked. "Hey, I earned this. Besides, I'm not breaking any rules,"* I said. "Buffy! Are you going to bed?"* Mom. "In a minute!"* I called. His neck is smooth, and the skin under his ears and chin is so soft and tender, it's like baby skin. He's really sensitive there...he loves it when I kiss his neck, it makes him moan and move his head around, and I wondered if he was getting hard and I wanted to reach for him but it was impossible to do in that position, so I just thought about it and made it worse on myself. I was running my hands all over his neck and in his hair and inside his shirt and he was making wonderful sounds and he smelled incredible and I was wet, right away. He smelled delicious. Sometime I'm going to ask him what that is. He's self-conscious about

it, though, so not yet. He smelled like someplace I think I've dreamt about, some place that's hot, where the air is heavy with spices. I almost dragged him through the window. "I want-" I was out of breath, "I want to touch you, so bad," I was whispering, because Mom was on responsibility alert. "I know, I know what you mean," he said, being quiet too, "But it's good to have spaces," My heart sank, just a little. "Spaces?" "Yeah," "Is this a space talk?" "What?" "You know, 'Honey, I need more space'?" He ducked his head a little when he laughed, very softly. "No," he said, "I don't mean that. I just mean...for instance...if a book had no spaces between words the book would be just one long word that made no sense. Sometimes spaces between things give you a chance to see those things better," "Oh," I thought about this. It always seemed to me that we had plenty of spaces. "It doesn't mean I don't want to be with you-" he paused and his eyes got soft, "I want to be with you all the time. But it makes me appreciate you more. I forgot how pretty your eyes are. I never really remember how pretty they are," "I just never feel like I see you enough," I said, and then I realized that I might have gone too far, but he took my hand. "I'll never see enough of you," he said, and he was looking right into me, "Not ever, Buffy. I'll never touch you enough, I'll never kiss you enough. It's impossible," his voice got even softer, "I want you too...but it's not just being able to touch you that's good. It's also..." one of his eyebrows went up a little, it was such a sexy look, "...wanting to touch you," and he smiled at me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and slipped my tongue deep into his mouth. We kissed, and I heard Mom coming up the stairs. "I have to get ready for bed," I said, "Will you wait?"

"I'll be here," he turned sideways, so you couldn't see him from the room. I got into pajamas and turned the light out. "Good night, Buffy," said Mom, outside the door. "'Night, Mom," I turned and saw his shadow in the window, and I thought about the other times his shadow has been there, and the first time we kissed, and the time I came home and found him looking at my pictures and stuffed animals, about all the times he's warned me about danger and then showed up to help, even when I tried to send him away. I felt something catch in my chest. I love him. I love his shadow, and his face, and his annoying cryptic style, and the way he fights. I love the way he's a soap freak and the way he always tries to do the right thing. I love the way he tells me when he's scared, and how he takes care of business whether he's scared or not. I love him. I crawled onto the windowsill and pulled him to me. We held each other. It's the only place I ever want to be again, right there. I love the way he holds me. His hands always cradle my back, he makes me safe, right away. I know it's a place that's just for me and that he'd rather have me there than have anything else. I know it. "Buffy," he whispered, and I knew what he meant. There aren't words for everything. Some things you just feel and you just know and there aren't words to name them. I was feeling the same thing. Also, I didn't say anything because I would have told him I loved him if I'd talked right then. We just held each other. My heart was swelling and almost aching and I could feel his doing the same thing. I was sitting on the sill and I had my arms around him and my face pressed to his shoulder. He kissed the top of my head. "You should get your sleep," he said. I looked up at him. I didn't want him to go. He didn't want to go. He kissed my forehead, and then my nose and soon every inch of my face, little soft kisses, and his hands were sliding up and down my back. I just closed my eyes and disappeared into the way it felt. I sighed and my whole body went limp in his arms. He kissed my mouth. There was a heat spreading inside me, it was taking over. My heart was wide open and I was wide open, I wanted him inside me, I wanted him to fill me up, I wanted to be full of him, brimming over with him, my heart and my body and ...everything. I started to pull him into my room. "Buffy-" "I know," I sighed, a big, shuddering one. "I know, you should go," "Yeah,"

"This is awful," "It's wonderful," he said, and I looked at him. He meant a completely different thing. One hundred years alone. Really alone. No friends, no family, no vampire cliques, no humans. Nobody, just horrible memories and never being able to feed like he really wanted to. I wanted to make that up for him somehow, suddenly. All that loneliness. I slipped one hand inside his shirt and put my hand over his heart. He put a hand over mine and held it there, and I could feel the flesh warming. The way he was looking at me, I knew that he could feel the heat of my hand moving deep inside him, and my eyes stung, a tear ran down the side of my nose. I took a harsh little breath. He was stroking my hair. We didn't need to say anything and I loved the way he knew my thoughts and didn't make me say them. He held my cheek against his. It wasn't just sexy, it was...feelings. Feelings so powerful that you almost feel like they'll rip you apart. I want to give him what he gives me, a place where he knows he's wanted and safe, always. He kissed me and I climbed back into my room. I couldn't let go of him, I still had his hands. "I'll see you soon," he said. He kissed my hands and then let go of them. "I'll miss you tonight," I said. A year ago I wouldn't have been able to imagine saying that to any boy, or even feeling it. "I'll miss you," he said, and I could see that he's changed, too, he's gotten much more at ease, much more expressive. I guess that's not saying much, but he lets me see his feelings now. Neither one of us is afraid to do that anymore. I think we've both always felt this way, but now we can admit to ourselves. And each other. I don't just miss him kissing me, or doing all the incredible things he can do to me when he touches me. I miss him beside me. Just being next to me. In my weird life, it's the one time everything falls into place, where things become really clear. I know what's important when I'm with him. Us.

Buffy's Diary January 19, 1998

Timeline: Right after Buffy has her Drucilla nightmare in the opening of the episode, Surprise

Special thanks...big, wet SLOPPY thanks in fact, to Sare Liz and the Loft. I'll strive to be worthy.

It's 5:30, so the Bronze is closed. I hope he's not out...he's probably reading or something. He's fine. I'm sure he's fine. I feel like I've been climbing a ladder and I didn't realize how far up I'd gotten, and I'm looking down and I know I won't survive the fall, I can't fall...all those rungs went by so slowly, I didn't know how far up I was...I feel sick looking down, feeling it for the first time, how much danger I'm really in, because I love him, and if I lose him...if I lose him, I lose too much, I lose my heart. I'd never be the same. Never. I've never felt this way before! What IS it? No...I felt it once, when I heard the Prophesy, and I knew I was going to die...I felt it for a minute or two...it's a completely unleashed feeling, it's raw and too big, it's...loss of control and thought and everything. I've been writing this, PACING. I want to bolt out that window right now, I want to go and make sure everything is all right, GOD if something happens to him I will FREAK... I'm so afraid. I'm actually crying because I'm so afraid...I wish I had someone to talk to, I wish...well, I do, and it's him...but I know I'm being stupid, I know it's just a dream. It was just a dream. I can't go running to him for every little thing. I've had lots of dreams before. Maybe when the sun comes up I'll feel better. I always feel better, then. Nightmares still have power in the dark. It was the worst dream I've ever had in my life. In my life. I feel like she's back. It couldn't be, but I feel it. I HATE this because I hate it when I know I'm right about something and I want to be wrong...When I kill vampires I want them dead, but not for personal reasons. But if Drucilla really was back, I would do her with my bare hands. I won't need a stake. I will rip her throat OUT. If she lays a hand on him I will make it worse for her than he ever did. I'm being crazy, now. She's gone. She burnt up in the church. I did it myself! It was just a dream. But so real, like the dreams about the Master, I could smell her, the creeping rotten meat smell, with sickly-sweet violets on top of it. GOD... I've got to stop this, I've got to get a grip. He's going to think I'm a nut. Grip, grip, don't go on like some whiney Cordelia! I've got to keep my grip. I should try to go back to bed. Or at least sit down. But if I ever see him turn into dust I will die inside. It will kill me.

Buffy's Diary January 20, 1998

Timeline: The morning after Buffy has the Drucilla nightmare at the beginning of Surprise, and goes to Angel's apartment. Special note: All dialogue marked with an * signifies dialogue that was written by the show's writers and not by me.

I couldn't even eat breakfast. I told Mom I'd grab something on the way to school. I had to know he was OK or I would be wigging all day. I've never gone to his apartment during the day but I'd didn't care if I was acting looney. I had to see him. I choked a little when he opened the door, and that was funny, because I've seen him without a shirt before. He's breathtaking, but it was something else...it was seeing him at a different time. You get used to things, even to people, or to people in certain settings. Like, it's weird to see your Mom with a boyfriend and acting like a ditz, instead of at home and doing what she always does. Or when I get to hang out with Willow after school it's so much more fun than just seeing her AT school. Seeing him half undressed when I was on my way to school was really different. It was like seeing him in contrast to all the boys I knew, and he just totally blows them all away. Not because he's older, either. He's more real, and he's smarter, and he knows how to care about someone. Well, about me. "Everything OK?"* he said. He was surprised to see me. Then I started to feel stupid, but I was so relieved to see him I didn't care if I was stupid or not. "Ummm, yeah,"* I said. He stepped aside so I could come in. He went to put a shirt on and I almost said out loud, oh, no, don't get dressed.... Then I started telling him about my dream and it was like he was talking me down from panic or something. He wasn't condescending, but he really gave me the feeling that I might be exaggerating. "She killed you,"* I said, and I almost felt sick just telling it, "Right in front of me,"* "It was just a dream,"* he said, "It wasn't real,"*

"It felt so real,"* I said. I just couldn't explain the feeling. He put his hand on my cheek and this warm liquidly feeling shivered through me, it started where his hand was and flowed through me. His hand was cool and it warmed on my skin. His hands are big, and they're so gentle, it's amazing. I was telling him about how my dreams about the Master came true, but he said that not all my dreams come true. "I mean, what else did you dream last night?"* his eyes are the prettiest eyes I've ever seen, they're so dark they reflect everything, but they're also hungry, they were searching my face in a way that wasn't just worried, "Can you remember?"* he asked. "I dreamt-"* then I was embarrassed, "I dreamt that Giles and I opened an office supply warehouse in Vegas,"* He smiled, "See my point?"* "Yeah- I do- but what if Drucilla is alive? We never saw her body,"* "She's not. Even if she was,"* he said, with this little jerk of his head I'd never seen before, it was such a strong thing, "Big deal,"* "But-what-what if she-"* He kissed me, and my mind came apart. Every thought I had dissolved for a second. All of last night, with being so close to him and not being able to even touch him, it was like something started then that still hadn't stopped, and I was so hungry for him to kiss me and hold me and touch me that I just crumbled. "What if what?"* he said. "I'm sorry,"* I whispered, I was completely lost, "Were we talking?"* I love the way his arms pull me to him and he leans me back, his arms are so tight, I could feel them around my back, holding me in the most secure place I've ever been. I felt all of the fear and all of the tension and everything bad just drain right out of me and all I could feel was him, being surrounded by him, his wonderful smell and elegant body and his courage, I felt just wrapped up in all of him completely, and the whole outside world just disappeared. Nothing bad could ever happen to me when he holds me. He slips his tongue very gently along my lips when he kisses me, he tickles me that way, and then he mashes his lips on mine and satisfies me, and then he does it again, and I get breathless and I become like a slave to whatever he's going to do, just waiting for what every kiss is going to be like, but at the same time I can't get enough of the taste of him, I maul him. I was starting to shake and get seriously heated, and his bed was right there and I was

having real thoughts about it, and I realized that I had to get a grip, because this was day time. "I-I'm sorry, I have-have to go to school,"* my breath was shivering, I felt disconnected from the world. "I know,"* I started to walk away, fast, but he took my arm and spun me around and pulled me against him again and he was hard, and he drove his tongue into my mouth and I moaned, I slid my arm around his back and my other hand down his chest and over him and I almost stumbled, my heart was racing. I wanted my hands inside his shirt, I wanted to rip it right off him. "God, you feel-"* I whispered, I wanted his skin against mine, I wanted to feel that silky chest right up against me, I wanted him inside me, deep inside me, driving me apart, it was too vivid, my mouth would have gone dry but he was kissing me the way a thirsty animal drinks water. I have never wanted anything so much as I wanted him, right then. He started walking me backwards with him, "You have to go to school,"* "Right,"* I said, "I know. This is me..."* I reached for the door knob, "I'm going..."* He kissed me again, and the air went out of me, it was getting worse and worse, I could barely keep my hands where they should have been. I wanted him to carry me to his bed and make me late for school. Like, a century late. He was kissing my throat, and under my ear, and I was so sensitive all over I made this sound and we both paused and laughed a little. "You still haven't told me what you want for your birthday,"* he said, smiling with that sweet smile. Oh, yeah, duh. My birthday. I didn't care what he got me. Him, I'd like him. "Surprise me,"* I said. "OK," * We looked at each other and it felt so close and safe and warm, a place I never want to leave, a perfect place, that's what we have, that's what we make, wherever we are. I wanted that place to be a real place we can have, like other people get, someplace to come home to. It doesn't matter where it is, just that it's us. "This is nice,"* I said, taking a deep breath, and a deep breath of him, "I like seeing you in the daytime,"* "This is bedtime for me,"* he said, a little shyly.

"Then, I like seeing you at bedtime,"* and then I felt so busted, "I-I mean...you know what I mean,"* "I think so,"* he said, and then he looked at me and his eyes were full of affection, "What do you mean?"* I loved that, that he had the courage to ask me instead of just letting it go. He cares about how I feel. He cares about me and he wants to know if I care about him, it means everything. I could tell all of that. "I like seeing you,"* I said, and I looked up at him, "And that part at the end of the night when we say goodbye... it's getting harder,"* "Yeah," *he said, and I could feel it almost happening, almost-love time, and he said, "It is,"* and he was very serious. We looked at each other for a long time and then he wrapped his arms around me very gently and we just held each other, with our hearts next to each other. I can feel his, which sounds wrong because it doesn't beat, but that's not what I mean. It was strong and true somehow and I could feel that, I've always felt it. It's solid, and it's....it's mine. He pushed open the door behind me. He leaned his face toward mine and looked me deep in the eyes. "Go to school," he whispered sternly, and I laughed and then I left. I just know it's time. It's time to for us to really make the next step and it's time to use the L word. Either one of us could vanish tomorrow. It's not just a philosophical thing, that would be for other people who don't fight vampires every night, or demons, or who knows what, it's for people who don't live on a Hellmouth and don't have a sacred duty. It's for people who don't have extreme allergic reactions to sunlight and holy water and crosses and wooden stakes. "Live in the now" is a good one for most people, but for us it's the only option. Slayers don't usually live long, I'm at home with the concept now, and Angel is constantly putting himself in danger for me and I know he'd throw himself into the daylight for me if the need ever came up. This is our life, and we both know it. So if we have this chance, this chance that a lot of people never get, to feel SO GOOD, so good that you feel like your melting a little all the time, and you feel so happy when you see that person that you understand that it doesn't matter if life is short, as long as it's a GOOD life, as long as you've used every opportunity you have to make it good and right and loving, really LOVING...how many people ever feel like this? I don't know anyone who has. It's in storybooks, it's such a rare thing. I love him, I love him and I'm not going to mope around wishing it could be different. This is my life, and I'm going to live it right. I'll do everything I'm supposed to do, I'll kill evil and I'll not lie to Mom about my report card and I'll do my homework and I'll look both ways before crossing the street, yadda yadda yadda, but there's no reason

why we can't have just a taste of the good stuff other people get, too. I don't WANT the idiot football captain who'll dump me when he graduates. I want Angel. I want to show him that I really love him. I want to really love him. I'm going to. And yay, I just know Mom's going to take me shopping on Saturday, and I know she'll never let me get the leather pants, so if I angle for that first she'll have to back down on the silk mini and the patent go-go boots. My birthday! At last, licence for driviness.

Buffy's Diary January 21, 1998 - Part 1

Timeline: Buffy's sevententh birthday

Happy Birthday, me! I feel better this morning. Giles really didnt seem to think it was wig time, but he listened to me, which always makes me feel better. Keep alert, but dont panic. But I wish Id done follow-up on Drucilla. Note to self: dont forget to follow up. If I knew she was ashes this would be a whole different deal. As it is, I got this strong impulse to go hunt her last night and it was like a really bad itch, I didnt sleep that well. But, no dreams. No dreams is a good thing, one of my favorites...except if theyre Angel dreams. Too bad you cant rent dreams like videos and just push play when you turn out the lights. But then, nobody would ever get up. Im seventeen. Im still alive. In Slayer terms, maybe thats like being thirty. Maybe Slayer years are sort of like dog years. Except, I really am seventeen. And, eww. But I WANT to get to be thirty someday. I want that, and I want my drivers licence, and I want Angel. Well, not exactly in that order. But I cant seem to think about the future the way other people do, like some kids whove got everything planned out, graduate college at twenty-one, marry at twenty-five, have first-born at twenty-seven, retire at fifty. Ive

heard kids talking like that. Actually, it doesnt sound that comforting, it sounds really confining. Living day by day is an exercise in keeping your cool, but at least your life belongs to YOU, instead of to everybody elses ideas. And it teaches you spontaneity. Angel lives with that, too. He totally understands it, like nobody else. And if I get off on an Angel track I will never get to school. Seventeen is an important time to re-evaluate personal maturity. I wonder if Mom would buy that one?

(Entry made after breakfast) Wigging accomplishes nothing. But once youve seen instant replay of dreams its SO hard not to freak! I need to talk to Giles NOW, I wish I could go Drucilla now. That would solve all of my problems of the moment. Well, except that Mom seems to think that Im not sane enough to turn a key and steer. Whatever. It was just a plate. Dreams arent prophesies. UGH.

(Entry made just after supper) OK...being sane Buffy now. Meeting with Giles in one hour. Shes wouldnt move during the day anyway, and Angels probably just getting up, so hes safe, Im sure. Hes probably just getting into the shower. Thats a nice visual. We need a game plan. Im on the edge of freaking. I need a plan. I should finish my homework, so I dont have to think about it later. If she was dead I could think better. If she is alive it isnt for long, I have an agenda. Im sure Giles wont mind if thats part of the plan. I wonder what Angel got me for my birthday? Homework, do homework now.

Buffy's Diary Undated Entry on White Writing Paper

Timeline: Buffy wakes up in the middle of the night in Angel's bed to find him gone, a few hours after their escape from the Judge at the factory. Special note: All dialogue marked with an * signifies dialogue that was written by the show's writers and not by me.

Where is he? The rain stopped. My clothes are drying and I'm wearing the sweats he gave me to warm up in. Maybe any minute he'll come back and I'll have to explain what I'm doing at his desk. I hope so. He wouldn't go back to the factory, he's not stupid. He doesn't hunt for food anymore, and butcher shops aren't open at four in the morning. Sometimes he disappears for a while for no apparent reason. It would have to be that, because he didn't have a reason. I mean, what could it have been? Why would he? The whole night was business as usual on the Hellmouth. Well, most of it. We got ambushed in the factory but we've been down before, we always figure out what to do and make a comeback. Maybe he knows something about the Judge and needs to check it out. That's got to be it. Because it couldn't be tonight, because I didn't say it first. He said it first. And I know he meant it, I KNOW it. It couldn't be that. He loves me. He told me. I was freezing, because we ran through the rain to get away from Spike's men. He told me to put on some dry clothes and get under the covers to warm up. I started to but he was watching me, and I just looked at him because I didn't know what to say and then he remembered and turned his back. "Sorry,"* he said. I felt my sweater stick to a cut, and he heard me make a noise and he almost turned around and he said, "What?"* "Oh, it's-um...I just have a cut or something,"*

"Can I-"* and then he changed his tone, it was almost like a lot of things changed in that moment, because then he told me, he didn't ask me, "Let me see,"* I pulled my sweater to my chest because my top was wet, and then I said, "OK,"* He came over to where I was sitting on the bed and he sat down in back of me and put his hands on me and I sobbed, because just an hour or so ago we'd been saying good bye for who knew how long, it was horrible, but now we were here and his hands were on my back. "It's already closed, you're fine,"* he said, very softly, but his hand moved and slipped the strap of my top over my shoulder and I felt his hands trembling and the air went out of me. I leaned back against him and I was so happy that we were both alive and both here that I was starting to cry. His arms were going around me. "You almost went away today,"* I said. "I know,"* he said, "We both did,"* I was trying to stop crying, "Angel...I feel like I lost you,"* I was crying and I couldn't help it, "You're right, though,"* I said, "We can't be sure of anything-"* "Shhh,"* he said, and I leaned into his arms. He swallowed and I knew he was getting ready to say something. "I-"* he said. "You what?"* He almost said it on the dock, before we were attacked. Right after he gave me the ring. I turned to face him. We both knew it was time for him to tell me. But then he said it. "I love you,"* he said, and I lit up inside, I felt full of light. I didn't know how I would feel when he told me, and nothing could have made me ready. "I try not to,"* he said, "But I can't stop,"* his voice broke a little. I was fumbling for words. "Me-me, too,"* I said lamely, "I can't either,"* The air between us seemed to come apart, like the fibers of it were separating. I felt light, glowing and unbearably light. I kissed him and light was filling me up. He tried one last time, to give me an out.

"Buffy, maybe we shouldn't-"* but he knew it was time, too. "Don't,"* I put my fingers over his mouth, then I took his face in my hand, "Just kiss me,"* We fell on the bed together, and he knew what I wanted, and I knew he wouldn't try to stop it now. But it wasn't like being out of control. It was like being home, like we had both come home. My heart was pounding in my ears, my nerves seemed to extend beyond my skin, I felt hyper-sensitive all over and completely naked, even though I was still in my wet clothes. But still, I was home, I was safe. I knew nothing bad would happen to me in his arms, ever. We were really kissing now, a different kind of kisses than we ever had. I was lying on top of him and dipping my tongue into his mouth. We both knew what was going to happen and it made everything different. Neither one of us would hesitate now, or worry, or back off. I was moving against him and I could feel how hard he was, and I didn't feel embarrassed or anything. It was time. I pulled on him, sitting him up with me. I looked at him for a long time, and then I reached down to take the hem of my top and I started to pull it off. He was brushing my wet hair back from my face, very gently, combing it with his fingers. Everything was moving like things do in a dream, slowly, sleepily. I swallowed, then I finally pulled it off over my head. He smiled at me so gently, he held my cheek in his hand and he looked down at me, then back into my eyes, and his eyes were so tender, they were almost swollen. He kissed me and pulled me against him and I sighed and hung on to him, I'd been really nervous in a way, but that was gone now. I put my hand on his chest and pushed him back, then I reached down to take the edges of his sweater and I pulled it off. He lifted his arms up and then he tossed the sweater away. I wrapped myself around him and I actually cried out because I felt him against me for the first time. He was so smooth and his body was so beautifully formed that I stopped breathing for a minute. We stayed like that for a while, kissing very lightly. Being skin-to-skin with him was a dizzy rush, I was shivering so hard that my teeth were almost chattering, my heart was pounding. He stopped kissing me and looked at me, worried. "You're still cold," he said. "No," I said, "I'm not cold," I let my fingers move over the silk of him and I heard myself whimper. I almost felt silly, but then I looked at him, and his eyes were soft and bright. I sighed, running my hands over his wide, solid back, and feeling my body react to him. I was opening all over and deep inside, I wanted all of him. I slid my tongue into his mouth as far as it would go, holding on to his face. I kissed his throat and his chest, it was so wonderful to be able to kiss him all over, to kiss any part of him I wanted. His big hands were going up and down my back and over my arms and under my chin and around my neck, then over my

chest. He cupped my breasts in his hands and just held them for a while, then he started stroking my nipples with delicate little motions. I almost bit into his lip, I was starting to lose it. I was making little sobbing sounds, I couldn't help it. I pushed him back on to the bed and laid on top of him, kissing him, big, starving kisses. He slid his fingers under the waistband of my pants and started peeling them off me, slowly. He pushed them down a ways, then his hands moved up over my back and into my hair. It's wonderful the way he always takes his time, but now it was driving me right to the edge, it was almost making me angry. I rolled off him and kicked off my shoes and pushed my pants all the way down and kicked them off, panties and all. I rolled back over and he was staring down at me as if he were watching a miracle. His hand swept gracefully over my hip and down my thigh and my leg to my foot, and he held my foot in his hand, rubbing my toes. He was gazing at me, his eyes traveling up and down, over and over, and he was shaking. He swallowed and stared into my eyes. He made a sound that wasn't a word, because he didn't have one. It would have been adorable at any time, but right then it almost brought tears to my eyes, because it was so real. He was really in awe. I started to unbuckle his belt, but I kept my eyes on his. His lips parted and he relaxed, giving me complete control. I slipped off the bed and brought him with me. I went to my knees and pulled on him so he was standing up and I pulled the buckle loose, then the zipper down, looking up at him the whole time. His lips moved around a silent word, unconsciously. It was my name. I unlaced his shoes and pulled them off, and then his socks, and then I took a minute to touch his feet, because I never had. They were cool and smooth, and big. Even his feet were beautiful. I reached up and pulled his pants down and then over his feet. I'd only seen his legs that one time and I forgot how elegant they are, they're strong and lean, with nice lines in the muscle. My hands were starting to shake, and I was breathing raggedly. I slipped my fingers under the waist of his boxers and pulled them out and down, and there it was, tall and rigid. I slipped his boxers over his feet and closed my hand around his hardness and I actually heard myself say, "Oooo,". He grabbed my wrists and pulled me off the floor. He held me against him and we stood like that for a while, just holding each other and feeling it, that overwhelming dizziness. Then it got the best of me. I pushed him onto the bed again. He kept his arms around me and pulled me with him. We laid next to each other and traced the lines of each other with wonder, our hands going everywhere. He ran his hand around the back of my neck and brought my face to his, and we kissed very lightly. It had the flow of a dream, everything going in a direction effortlessly, because we both wanted all the same things, without even thinking about it. His hand went between my legs so softly, the way he always touches me, just barely stroking, and his fingers were wet and he made a sound that was almost like a sigh. I looked at him and he was starting to look...different. He was flushed, and his skin was a little moist, he looked younger. He started kissing me all over with real hunger, he was holding my face and then my back and taking mouthfuls of my skin, under my ears and the palms of my hands and my belly and my throat and my mouth, then he slid down and took my feet in his hands and started on them, tasting the bottoms of my feet, moving up slowly with big wet kisses, and

everything he was doing was putting me in a kind of panic. His kisses got bigger and wetter on the insides of my legs. Suddenly he reached under me and flipped me over and then he was kissing the backs of my knees and taking big mouthfuls of my thighs, moving up so gradually, all the way up, biting gently into my behind, moving his tongue as though he was loving the taste of me, and then he slipped his thumbs between my legs, opening me, and nestled his mouth there. He smoothed his hands up over my back and reached for my hands, and as he held them he dipped his tongue deep into me. I cried out, and my voice was quavering, it was almost becoming too much. I was gripping his hands too hard but I couldn't help it. His tongue slipped up and down, reaching and caressing, so patiently, it was making me insane. He flipped me over again and wrapped his arms around my hips, and then he took that little spot in his mouth and sucked on it very lightly, moving his head back and forth and flicking his tongue. The heat came up suddenly and blinded me. It was almost like being hit, it happened so fast. Then I was just whining and trying to catch my breath as my body jerked, helplessly. He was moving his tongue deeper and licking up all the wetness, and then he started kissing his way up my belly. I was trembling from the inside, I felt like jelly all over, and every touch was becoming more intense. He slid his arms under me, putting his weight on his forearms, and kissed his way up my chest. He thrust his tongue into my mouth and I moaned into his mouth, because then I felt him, the hardness of him between my legs, and I drew in a long breath. He kissed me over and over, not moving, but I started to move because he was right there. I reached down and took it in my hand and started stroking between my legs with it and he was looking at me with a dreamy expression on his face. It was cool and hard like stone, but velvety-smooth, and I was slipping it up and down, exploring. I could feel my body clenching, just having him so close and thinking about what it was going to feel like when he was inside me. I let go of it and wrapped my arms around his neck. He kissed my cheeks and a sob broke out of me because I couldn't take it much longer. He pushed his hips foreword enough so that I could feel him, I could feel how huge he really was. It seemed impossible but I closed my eyes and pushed down, and I felt him move into me. I winced because it really hurt and it was scary, too, I didn't know how I could take him but at the same time I wanted him to split me apart so badly I would have killed for it. My arms were around his neck, tight, and I pulled my legs up. I looked at him and I knew he would have to see it hurt...but he had to know how badly I wanted it, too. It was time for me to say it because I hadn't yet, not really, not without being asked. I pulled him into me and I said, "I love you, Angel," His moaned, leaning his head back. "Buffy," he almost shouted it, "I love you," CONTINUES

Buffy's Diary Last Entry: Undated Entry on White Writing Paper

Timeline: Buffy wakes up in the middle of the night in Angel's bed to find him gone, a few hours after their escape from the Judge at the factory.

The stinging stopped, and now that he was deeper inside I suddenly felt something else, a pull inside me, a really deep tingle like little exploding stars, and I gasped. He was kissing my mouth very softly with small kisses, sipping at my lips. He took a tiny bit of my upper lip in his mouth, the part just below my nose, and sucked on it delicately. Goose bumps went up all over me. He slid into me just a little more and stopped again, kissing the tip of my nose and then up the bridge of my nose, very slowly and calmly, and I gasped again but it was a high, desperate sound. My body was opening for him and I felt this overwhelming softness all over. I was melting around the hardness of him. I was in awe, I just let the waves of it wash through me. He was kissing my eyelids and then he looked at me, watching the look on my face. He slid a little deeper, agonizingly slow, he was igniting every nerve inside me. He stopped and I panted onto his face. He moved his thumbs over my cheeks. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you I love you?" he said. His eyes were brimming. I took a breath and it came out as a cry so I took another one, and I managed, "No," He swallowed. "Since I first saw you," he said, and it could have been corny. It could have, but a tear ran over his cheek and fell on mine, cool as a drop of rain in the winter, and I sobbed. He pressed his forehead against mine and started slowly moving deeper into me. "I love you," he whispered, "I love you," and I wanted to answer him but my body was clinging to every inch of him and throbbing, the motion of it was rippling through me and he was watching me with so much wonder and affection that I know what it feels like to be worshipped. It wasn't something he was doing TO me, it was something he was doing FOR me, and what he was doing was giving me himself. I was so slippery that he glided into me and it was luxurious, it was perfect, to have all of him inside me. A long whine came out of me, I could feel the full length of him. He pushed his legs out and wrapped his arms closer around me, lowering himself so that his body was right against mine. He stayed still so I could just feel him, somehow he knew I wanted that. I was taking long, deep breaths and moaning a little. After a while he started rocking, a very small motion, but the way he was moving inside me was the most wonderful thing I've ever felt,

to be so full of him. I was proud, too, that I could hold all of him. My hands were on his back and in his hair and tracing his mouth, I was amazed by it, just amazed by how beautiful he was and that I could be filled with him. It was such a pure thing, this thing thateverybody says is dirty. I've never felt cleaner in my life, it made me feel like I was flying through the sky or like I WAS the sky, a clean blue sky, or like a night sky that's full of stars, an absolutely pure thing. Me and what I wanted and him and what he wanted, and we wanted exactly the same thing. We just wanted each other. Then it started, that feeling like a tidal wave was coming, something huge that would swallow me and then it did, I was yelling and writhing against him, it was so good that there wasn't room in me to hold all of how good it was, the feeling was spilling out of my pores and my voice, I was drenched with it. He pressed his cheek against mine and rocked into me, he was making a deep sound that was almost like a purr. I hung on to him until I started to calm down again, and he stopped. He looked at me and his eyes were so adoring, so warm. We gazed at each other and it was like all other times when we just look at each other and have conversations without words. It was so completely real that I felt drunk, I was drunk on him. We laid like that for a long time, just soaking each other in. He was as amazed as I was, I KNOW it, because the distance between us was completely gone. I could read his heart, I know what he was feeling. He slipped one arm under my hips, tilting me up, and then he slowly pulled almost all the way out of me, he was just a little way inside me, and he started moving in very shallow, gentle thrusts, so carefully. He started kissing my throat. I don't know why but he was hitting a really important spot suddenly and I could hear my voice getting higher and higher. It was almost unbearable. The way I loved it was almost...violent. Up until that point I had pretty much let him drive but now I couldn't help it any more, I gripped his back and rose up against him. He was twisting his hips in a very small motion. It was exactly what I wanted and I moved with him, we were making little spirals together. My entire body felt the way I felt inside, so sensitive that I was almost raw, but slick and needy. I was clenching my teeth. He stopped and slid his arm under my back. "Angel-Angel," I was pawing at him, because I wanted him deeper. His hand slid all the way up, under the back of my neck, and his thumb stroked my cheek. He kissed me over and over, slow, wet kisses, sliding his tongue between my lips. He moved into me smoothly and gradually, it was such a graceful movement. He withdrew a little and then slid deeper and I shouted because I was hanging on the edge, I was really trembling now. He gave me another shallow stroke and then slid in all the way, harder this time, and my body gripped him. I was starting to lose parts of myself, I didn't know my fingers from my toes, but I didn't need to. My whole body existed for the sole purpose of being wrapped around him. He did it again, a little stroke just inside me and then a deeper one, and he was watching me like I've never been watched before, his eyes probing but so loving at the same time. Just that look would have made me lose it. He stroked deeper then, slow and deep, over

and over, and I grabbed on to his back and thrust my hips up. I brought my knees up as far as I could, which was almost to my ears, and I leaned my head back and begged because I wanted him so much faster and so much harder. "Please, Angel please, please-" and he gradually started going faster because I was moving up to him faster, his eyes were darting back and forth into mine. He was starting to look desperate. There was a dew on his upper lip like on mine, our bodies were slippery now. He tilted his chin down and his expression became suddenly really intense, almost like when he fights, and he started driving into me, harder, then even harder. It was like he was pushing me up higher and higher and soon I was listening to myself screaming his name over and over and I had no idea where the ceiling or floor was, I wouldn't even have known my own name, except he was chanting it. He was growing even bigger and getting even harder. He touched his forehead to mine and his eyes went right through me. It was as if everything that I am, my mind and heart and soul and body, all narrowed into one incredibly bright pinprick of light, or into one key on a piano, and the sound it played was absolute joy, pure joy, and he was striking that key every time he touched me inside, and all I wanted was him inside me again and again, filling me with it. Our eyes were hooked together, it was like being two people at once, he knew exactly what I was feeling and I knew exactly what he was feeling and we were telling each other everything, every sensation, without speaking. He drew his arms from under me and braced himself on his elbows. He took my hands in his, palm to palm, and we pushed against each other like dancers, balancing. His voice sounded like he was begging, he kept saying, "Buffy, Buffy," I started moving against him again. I wanted him to split me in two, shatter me. We were driving against each other then, hard. It didn't hurt at all anymore but it was scary in a completely different way, because he had put me so far out of the world I didn't know if I'd ever make it back. He started saying my name through his teeth and then things went black for a second, I was gasping and shouting so hard that my throat hurt, and when I could open my eyes he was squeezing his shut, he was pounding into me so hard that he was knocking little puffs of breath out of me, and then he shouted and his whole body went taut and I felt it deep inside me, the most wonderful thing in the world, little jets of coolness. I was crooning and my hands were all over him, he was gripping me in his arms, his face was buried in my neck. We laid like that for a long time. I was still sobbing and tremors were going through me, my body was still reacting. He rolled over and pulled me up on his chest, holding me. He cradled my cheek in his hand and tilted my head up. I looked at him. I've never seen him smile like that. He was lit up. He looked as if all of that dark he carries around, the sadness and the guilt and the shame and all the things he did, it was as if he got to take them off for a minute and I could see him without them. He looked different...strong and healthy like always, but happy suddenly and...human, he looked human, the way he must have looked before he

was changed. He glowed. His eyes were warm and full, and the smile covered his face. He looked alive. "I'll make you happy," he whispered. "You do make me happy," I said. "No. Not like I want to. I'm going to make you happy, Buffy," I knew what he meant. He meant us having a life. He meant a future. We both knew there would be some interesting problems with it, and we both knew none of them mattered. The only thing that mattered was us. I fell asleep right there on his chest. But then I woke up and he was gone. And now I'm crying again. Where is he?