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.