Filling The Void

Written by Karen

She sat, staring out the window into the black night. The night matched the bleakness in her soul as she stared out at nothing.

“Don’t worry, B,” her roommate said, “He’ll be fine.”

“I have no doubts,” she said, but her voice was flat, almost dead, and it gave Faith the creeps. She had rarely heard the blonde’s voice like that, and every time it sent goose bumps to her skin and a chill up her spine.

It had been just over a year since they had destroyed Sunnydale, but she had only been living with the blonde slayer for a few months. She had decided, instead of going to Europe with the others, to go back to jail and finish her sentence - something that still surprised Buffy when she thought about the Faith she had first met all those years ago outside the Bronze - and it had taken about eight months for Giles to convince the bigwigs in California that she would be best serving out her term with him in England. He had taken an oath that he would be solely responsible for her - the shock had yet to wear off - and that she would be supervised. Hence the living with Buffy. But it usually wasn’t so bad. The blonde had spent a few months in Paris, and then a few in Rome, and then Giles had asked her to come to England, and she had, feeling she had done some living. They were now in charge of a bunch of slayers, and at least once a week she and the Buffster would go out on the town and party.

But not tonight. And not for the past two months. Because shortly after the first of June, Buffy heard from Xander who heard from Giles who heard from Willow who heard from…someone, about what had happened in Los Angeles, what Angel had done. There wasn’t really much known, and what was known was all garbled, going through tons of different people, but what was known was something about that law firm Angel had been running, some blonde bimbo, and some apocalypse, and LA being totally trashed. Nothing yet was known if he was alive or dead.

“I would feel it,” Buffy muttered, but Faith heard her clear across the room, “I mean, wouldn’t I? Angel and I have always had this strange something between us…”

“Sexual tension?” Faith joked, trying to lighten the oppressive mood that had been swamping the apartment for the past couple months.

“No,” the word wasn’t said in exasperation as it usually was, it was soft, as if she wasn’t really paying attention, “We always know where the other is…when they’re in trouble…but why didn’t I know? Why didn’t I feel whatever the hell I feel when something’s going wrong?”

“Well, didn’t you say you were feeling off awhile back?”

“Well, yeah…for awhile now, since like…October, but that was different….” She turned to face the other slayer, “He knew when I had died. Not until he saw Willow did he understand, but he knew. So…so wouldn’t I know if he was…gone?” the word came out strangled.

“I guess,” she shrugged.

“So then I’d know. So he’s not…”

“Then there’s no reason to worry. Let’s go out, do some dancing, some teasing, some flirting, some drinking. It’ll make you feel better.”

She just shook her head. “If I would know if he were dead, and he’s not, and I can always feel him, no matter how far apart we are, this little tug on my heart in the direction he’s in, then why can’t I feel him now?” she asked in a soft voice, turning back to the window.

Faith didn’t have an answer for her.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing hold of the other slayer’s arms. She led her into her bedroom, “We’re going out and getting trashed,” she decided. She sat the morose blonde on her bed, rummaging through her drawers. “Put this on,” she said, throwing her a tight top and short skirt, “It’ll make you feel better.”

“Faith,” she started, “I’m not really-”

“This is exactly what you need, trust me,” she said, “I’m going to change. You’d better be ready.” With that, she left the blonde alone. When she came out of her room five minutes later, Buffy was waiting in the outfit she had chosen for her. “Damn, I’m good,” she muttered.

“Faith, I’m really not sure this is a good idea…”

“This is just what you need to get your mind off him and his philandering ways.”

“Faith!” she cried, a smile cracking her lips.

“Come on, drinks are on me,” she said, pulling the blonde out the door.

“It’s just so weird,” she said half an hour and two drinks later, “I can always feel him,” she said, “Even when I don’t want to. He’s always with me. Now suddenly, he’s gone. I-I guess that I got so used to feeling him, knowing he was there, that now I don’t know what to do with myself without it, him…

“And what about what Will’s contact said about the blonde he had been seen with? What did he call her, a cupcake? What if he’s moved on? What if that’s why I can’t feel him, because he doesn’t love me anymore? What if that’s why it’s broken?” she asked, pouting.

“One more for the lady,” the guy to her left said, signaling the bartender.

“No, no. I should go…this just wasn’t a good idea. Where’s Faith?” she asked, looking around.

“Love, come on,” the guy started, and she spun, almost losing her balance.

“Don’t call me that,” she said, her tone hostile.

“How ‘bout baby? Sweetie?”

“How ‘bout you don’t call me anything?” she said, before stalking off. She found Faith on the edge of the dance floor.

“Aw, B, you can’t be leaving yet. The party’s barely started.”

“I can’t do this, Faith. We talked about this a while ago, you can do whatever you want. I’m going home.”

“You sure you don’t want me to join you?” she asked, worried about the blonde.

“No, you have fun. I’m probably gonna go for a long walk, and then head back to the apartment. I just need to be alone right now.” And hit something really, really hard. Repeatedly.

“If you need any help…” Faith trailed off, knowing the other woman knew what she meant.

“Thanks,” with that the blonde turned and walked away.

Once she was outside the noisy club, she rearranged her clothes so she was a bit more comfortable walking around by herself, pulling the short skirt a little farther over her ass before pulling the low cut tank top up a little to cover a tiny bit more of her meager cleavage. It showed about two or three inches more of back and toned stomach, but she’d rather look like a party girl than a working girl trying to showcase her wares. She checked the heft of her small purse, just big enough for a small stake. Then she set out for a stroll.

She set her feet on autopilot, letting them take her wherever they wanted, while she thought. Her senses had been honed enough that she would know if there were a vampire within fifteen feet of her, so she didn’t even have to search.

She mostly thought about the type of life she had been living this past year; living wherever the hell she wanted, doing whatever the hell she wanted, dancing, drinking, bringing home guys that interested her. Some would have called her actions dangerous or self destructing and called her a slut, but her friends let her keep it up, maybe knowing as she didn’t want to that she was trying to fill the void in her life that had only grown wider since she had seen Angel last. And now, when that void was larger than it had ever been, she wasn’t feeling much like falling back into old habits to fill the void, to feel anything but despair.

Her ‘vampire senses’ went off before she heard the sounds of battle, the muffled sound of flesh hitting flesh, the growls and cries of pain, the animalistic shouts and groans.

She hurried her pace, heading for the alley, pulling her stake out as she jogged. If she hadn’t felt the vampire, she would have been more cautious, thinking it was nothing more than a brawl or something. The heeled sandals made not only the flip flop noise as they smacked her heel, but clicked against the sidewalk, and she mentally cursed herself for not going back and changing shoes first. The shoes were okay for walking and dancing and flirting, but they weren’t the best for sneaking.

She reached the mouth of the alley and stopped for a moment, taking in the scene. There was a woman cowering in the corner-why the hell was it always women who were picked on?- and two large guys fighting, the larger one trying to keep himself in between the other and the woman as much as he could while they spun, dodged and dived. By the looks of the one that screamed vampire, the other guy could hold his own.

With that in mind, she headed for the girl, skirting the two combatants, pulling her to her feet. She half dragged her to the edge of the alley before pushing her just a bit, “Go,” she told her. The frightened girl, no older than eighteen, murmured a ‘thank you’ before she ran off.

She watched her go for a minute, before a pain filled shout broke the air. She stood, unmoving for a moment, recognizing the agonized voice, before she spun. Why hadn’t she realized it before? Why hadn’t she taken a good look at him, at either of them? Was she slipping? The man had his back the wall, his head thrown back, holding a deep gash in his chest. As the vampire moved closer, their eyes met, and then her gaze skipped to the blade.

The clattering of her shoes alerted the vampire to her presence, but she didn’t really mind as she charged him, bringing her right foot up to smack him in the head with a roundhouse kick. The short skirt and tight top were forgotten as she pummeled her frustration out. The vampire tried to slash her a few times, but she always evaded it, the long hours she spent at the gym working out coming to her aid each time.

Finally, when toying with him was no longer fun, she staked him, slamming the small stake into his chest, enjoyed feeling the breastbone breaking upon impact. And then he was gone with a growl of frustration.

She stood with her back to him a moment, her chest heaving from not only exertion but anger, her skirt riding up, her tank top baring more than she would normally like. But she didn’t pay attention to any of it as she stood there, waiting to get herself under control before she turned to him.

Once she did, she couldn’t stop her eyes from traveling every inch of him, taking him in. Then she remembered his cry of pain, and remembered the blood. She was crouching next to him instantly, trying to peel up his shirt to get a better look at the wound.

“Let me see,” she ordered, and when he still protested, she glared at him, “I have first aid training, let me see it,” she said between clenched teeth, but he stopped grabbing her wrists, and she managed to get the shirt away from the wound.

It looked bad, looked like it hurt like hell. And it was doing a good job of bleeding. She bit the inside of her lip, thinking what she could use to stem the flow of blood. She touched the skin near it, and it burned her.

She stood suddenly, smoothing her skirt unconsciously, “I don’t have anything to patch you up. You’ll have to come to my apartment. Or go to the ER.”

He nodded, slowly standing, wincing in pain.

“Did you hurt anything else?” she asked, her eyes running over him clinically, fighting the urge to look him over a second time, a look that would be far from the first detached glance.

“No,” he said, “just muscles not used to being worked so hard. If I had known you’d show up, I would have worked them harder,” he gave her a slight smile, which she didn’t return.

“This way,” she said, spinning on her heel, stalking out of the alley. He had no choice but to follow.

“So, you have first aid training,” he said after a few minutes of walking in silence.

She nodded, “Had some free time, and took the course at a Red Cross…got my CPR-PR certification, too. And I’m working on becoming an EMT.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Impressed that I sat through the classes, or impressed that I could be doing something constructive with my life?” she threw back at him. “It’s this way,” she said, not giving him time to answer, crossing the street to the three level apartment complex that housed the apartment she and Faith shared.

She kept well ahead of him, but he caught up with her when she was forced to stop to unlock their door. She didn’t invite him in, just threw her keys on the hall table, kicked off her sandals and padded towards the kitchen. “Sit down,” she ordered, once he had entered, closing the door behind him. He did so as she rummaged under the kitchen sink for the First Aid kit. Once she found the huge tackle box, she pulled it out, setting it on the kitchen table. She rummaged through it, pulling out things she thought she might need, gauze, antibiotic ointment, tape, scissors; she kept track of the things she took out of the box, noting the things they were low on, so she wouldn’t have to focus on the emotions swirling inside her at seeing him again, like this.

As she turned to him, she noticed that at some point he had stripped off his shirt, folded it and was using it as a compress. It took all of her self-control to not look at the hard planes of his muscular chest and toned stomach. She slowly peeled away the blood soaked shirt, he winced, but she pretended not to notice. She went to the sink, wetting a clean washcloth before she returned to him and started to clean the wound. Her gentle touch belayed the detached look on her face.

“It doesn’t look as deep as I thought,” she told him, trying to fill the silence. “Probably won’t even need stitches, which is good, because I used the last of the string on Faith two nights ago and haven’t gotten around to buying any more.”

“That’s good,” he said, not sure what to say.

She tossed the wet cloth into the sink, turning to the supplies on the table, “This is going to hurt, but we’ve got to flush it out,” she said, ripping open a hydrogen soaked pad. He bit his lip as she ran the cloth over his skin, biting down as a groan of pain fought to be released from his throat. “There, all done,” she said, throwing the used cloth into the nearby trashcan. She didn’t turn or anything, just tossed it over her shoulder, and it sailed in.

“You must do this often,” he commented, a bit awed by her aim despite himself.

“Patch people up, you mean?” she asked, “One of us patrols every other night, and we usually patrol together Monday and Thursday nights, not much of a party scene, so yeah, I guess I do my share,” she said, taping some gauze covered in antibiotic ointment onto his chest. “There you go,” she said, stepping back, surveying her handy work, fighting to keep her eyes clinical. She hoped two thick pieces of gauze would stem the flow.

“Thanks,” he said, standing up. He made as if to put his shirt back on before realizing it was covered in his own blood. She watched him awkwardly put the shirt down. For a moment, she had forgotten she was irritated with him.

She turned abruptly, cleaning up the wrappers, anything to keep her hands busy. Once that was done, she repacked the tackle box, itching to make a list of the things they needed.

“Buffy,” he started.

“How long?” she asked, spinning, “How long have you been like this, and neglected to tell me?” she asked. “How long have you been human?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t betray the emotions she was feeling, the betrayal.

“Two months,” he said, not looking at her.

“So, why’d you come?” she asked, “Didn’t want to tell me over the phone, did you? You wanted to see the look on my face when you told me it’s over. When you told me you prefer that blonde bitch to me. Couldn’t help yourself, could you? Wanted to take one more stab at the Buffster, huh? Make it so no man would ever want her, could ever have her because her heart’s so battered it can’t feel anything but pain,” she snapped, glad for the anger, it masked everything else she was feeling.

Before she knew what he was doing, he had pulled her flush against his chest, captured her lips with his. While she had thought kissing him before was heaven, his cold lips shocking on hers at the first touch before they heated up with the borrowed warmth from her own, now his lips were warm, and only grew hotter as the kiss grew deeper. Before she knew it, she was allowing his tongue into her mouth, and she gasped at the wave of pleasure it gave her as warmth flooded the bottom of her stomach. She moaned against his mouth, her eyes slipping closed as she lost herself in the kiss.

He broke it off suddenly, and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from groaning out loud at the loss. “I didn’t tell you because I was in the hospital. The battle lasted fifty eight hours, and I was the only one to survive,” his eyes darkened in grief, “Illyria could have survived, except she had no reason to, after Wes…” he sighed, pulling away from her. She wanted to protest at the loss of how good his arms felt around her after so long.

“I spent five weeks in the hospital, recovering from dehydration, exhaustion, collapsed lung, sprained wrist, cracked rib, and strangely enough, anemia. The shock of having to breath, to eat, to regulate my body temperature…for the first few weeks, I only hindered my recovery. I would wake up gasping in the middle of the night, because I had forgotten how to breathe.

“The loss of everyone dear to me…I would lay there for days, not eating anything, because I didn’t think I deserved this, deserved being human and living when everyone else was dead. And then Nina found out where I was,” he watched as her back stiffened at the name, “She was so happy to see me, so happy that I was alive, planning our future, and it was then I realized that there was nothing there. Nothing between me and her. I realized that I was only seeing her, only fucking her, because you had had Riley, and Spike, and so many other guys that I can’t even name. You were over me, and I still had to stop myself from flying over here and killing every single boy you allowed to touch you.

“But when she showed up in my hospital room, I knew I couldn’t stay with her. I knew I had to come here, because there was still one person in this world I cared about still alive. Please, Buffy, give me a second chance,” he grabbed her hands, held them in his so tenderly she wanted to cry, to take his apology and take him into her room and relearn every inch of his now breathing body. But she wouldn’t. She was stronger than that now, “I’ve been given a second chance, I’ve been forgiven for everything I did in the past two hundred years, except one thing. The Powers That Be don’t have the power to forgive me for leaving you, only you do. Please, living this life I’ve been given without you isn’t worth it.”

She pulled her hands away from him, turning from him. She wouldn’t give in so easily, no matter how much it hurt, “It’s late, I’ve got class in the morning. You’re welcome to sleep on the couch. I don’t know when Faith will be home, usually she’s pretty good at sneaking in in the middle of the night.” She started out of the room.

“Buffy,” he called, and she stopped, her back to him, “You still my girl?” he asked.

She didn’t turn to him, her shoulders rigid, “Always. But the girl has grown up, Angel. It’s not the girl that won’t take you back, it’s the woman. I’ll get you some sheets, make up the couch bed.” She walked out of the room.

Faith crept in at around two am, carrying her high heels so the clicking wouldn’t wake the blonde. But to her surprise, the television in the living room was on, the sound low. When she saw who was sitting on the couch, she was even more surprised, “Angel, what are you doing here?” she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

“Came to see Buffy,” he replied morosely, flipping through the channels.

“No, what are you doing out here?” she asked, “It’s clear what you’re doing here, but why aren’t you with her?” she reached over, grabbing his wrist for a check of pulse, “Just as I thought. So why the hell aren’t you in there?” she nodded towards Buffy’s closed door.

“How’d you-”

“You think you’re the only one to visit after I went back? Sometimes I think I knew more about what was goin’ on in that company of yours than you did,” she sighed, sitting down, “Wesley came a few times to visit. Real proud of me, goin’ back and all. How is he?”

“He died.”

She stared at him a moment, before looking away, “I hoped it wasn’t true…but when Giles couldn’t get through to him…when Giles couldn’t get through to you…we thought the worst, about everyone…” she leaned back against the couch. “He called me, that last day. I guess that demon he was watching was sleeping or something.”

“Illyria.”

“That’s the one. Explained the whole kit and caboodle. I was tempted to see if I could get a team together to help, but he wouldn’t let me. Wouldn’t let me tell B, either. He knew it was your battle; you started it, and it was up to you to finish it. So I sat, and waited. And when no call came…

“Then someone called Willow, we’re really not sure who, and he told her what went down, told her about your motivations, and your son, and the blonde werewolf you’d been keeping time with.”

He growled low in his throat.

“Glad you got to keep the growl. Always made me wet.”

“Faith-”

“What the hell are you doing out here?” she asked again.

“Buffy doesn’t want-”

“What she wants and what she needs are two different things,” she said, sighing, “When she found out what was going down, she was a basket case. She kept saying that she couldn’t feel you…this weird connection you guys have always had was gone. We figured you were dead, though she kept denying it, saying she’d know. Her other thought on the subject was that you no longer loved her, so that’s why she couldn’t feel you.

“Well, you’ve certainly proven to her that you’re not dead. Now you’ve got to prove that you still love her.”

“But I told her-”

“You know as well as I do what you say and what you do are two very different things, Angel,” she looked at him, “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got plenty of batteries.” She stood.

“Are you certain-”

“I’m sick and tired of that girl moping around here. It would be good for her to get some,” she gave him a wink, before heading towards her room, across the living room from Buffy’s.

Angel sat there a moment, following Faith with his eyes until she closed her door, before he turned and looked at Buffy’s closed door. Getting love advice from the brunette was just as weird as getting love advice from Spike. He sighed. Should he follow the advice, or should he turn off the television and go to sleep?

He stood slowly and walked over to the wooden door. Should he take Faith’s advice? Ever since watching her fight in the skintight clothing, there had been an uncomfortable bulge in his slacks. But he didn’t want to force her. He’d been waiting for years to be able to be with her again.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. The night light in the hall gave him just enough light to see her curled up in her bed, and he groaned. How he loved her, how he wanted to show her just what she meant to him…Silently he crossed the room. He stood for a second, staring down at her. His eyesight wasn’t as good as it had been as a vampire, but he could remember how soft she looked while she slept. Even when life beat the softness out of her features, at night, when she relaxed, she was soft.

He softly sat on the edge of her bed, reaching out to trace her cheek with his finger. She stirred, and he bent down, covering her lips with his. She groaned, stretching, as she reacted to the kiss. He moved his arms to cradle her against him, one supporting her head, lost in her glorious hair, while the other slid down until it reached the small of her back. She was the first to deepen the kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth, reveling in the heat, tangling with his. He was sucking on her bottom lip playfully, gently, when she finally opened her eyes. For a moment they were hazy with sleep and lust, and then they cleared, and he saw surprise and fear in them.

She tried to pull away, but he pulled her closer, parting her lips with his tongue and thrusting it inside her mouth. She moaned and her eyes slipped closed for a moment, before they flew open and she pushed him off her.

“Angel, what the hell-”

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, his chest heaving, “I couldn’t help myself, I love you so much…”

“Angel,” she warned, but he was distracted, his gaze on her slightly swollen lips, full and soft. “We can’t-”

“There’s nothing stopping us,” he murmured, leaning down to trail kisses down the side of her neck. Her body arched against him, and she rolled her head away from him so he would have easier access. “Let me make love to you,” he pleaded against the base of her neck, before his lips traveled to the swell of her breast, peaking out of the top of her camisole. “Let me love you,” he murmured, placing open-mouthed kisses on the mound.

“Angel,” she moaned, her voice breathy. He slid his mouth to the pebble pressing through the silk top. He pulled it into his mouth, running his tongue around the areola, until the nipple became a tight hard nub, which he gently bit down on; her breathing became erratic. He pulled his mouth away, and she whimpered as he slid a hand beneath her, and helped her into a seated position, before pulling the thin top over her head.

He lay her back down, and sat up to stare at her a moment. She lay still, seeming to understand that he just wanted to look at her. He was proud of her, not moving to cover herself at all, but then he was also jealous of the men that had jaded her so. “Beautiful,” he murmured, bending to run his tongue along the neglected breast, “Simply beautiful,” he murmured against the swell before he took the nipple into his mouth. “Mine,” he growled before biting down gently on the hard bud.

“Always,” she murmured, arching her back against the pleasure.

He placed a few kisses on her breasts as he ran a hand along her stomach to the junction between her legs. He groaned as he felt how wet she was through her underwear. Her body stiffened as he touched her, but he kissed her softly, “Do you trust me?” he asked, and she nodded as he began kissing down her neck, his lips trailing kisses through the valley between her breasts, down her perfectly toned abs, scooting himself down the bed until he settled by her knees. He caressed her through the cotton underwear, and she wiggled beneath his administrations. Then he slid one finger under the cotton, and into her wet heat. She cried out, and he groaned at how tight she was, at the feel of her muscles squeezing his finger. He shifted on the bed, trying to release the pressure building up in his loins, before he continued, slowly pulling his finger out of her and sliding it back in.

“Angel,” she moaned, bucking her hips against him, but he stilled her with a touch.

“Let me,” he murmured, slowly building her up. He could almost feel when she was teetering over the edge, and he increased the pressure, sliding his forefinger out of her, replacing it with another finger as he caught her clit in between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it.

She cried out as pleasure rippled through her. She rode out her orgasm, her head thrown back, her breathing ragged, and when she came back to earth, she was surprised to feel warm breath on the inside of her thigh. He kissed her on the sensitive skin of her upper thigh, before he slid off her panties, pulling them all the way off and tossing them somewhere in the darkness. Then he kissed the crease where her thigh met her body, and she shivered. He kissed her again, running a hand through the short curly blonde strands. She moaned, and he slowly dipped his tongue into her sex, and a spasm rocked through her at the pleasure. No man had taken the time to see to her pleasure in a long, long time, and she had almost forgotten how it felt to have such things done.

“Angel,” she whined as he began to flick his tongue in and out of her, catching her clit in between his thumb and forefinger, “I-I need you…inside. Angel,” she moaned as he slowly built up the pleasure yet again. It wasn’t long before a second climax was coursing through her. When she opened her eyes again, Angel was there, and he bent to kiss her lips, and she could taste herself on his lips.

She felt his hand in between their bodies, fumbling for his zipper, but she stopped him, sitting up, “I need to feel all of you,” she murmured, attacking his neck. He moaned against her as he fumbled to undo his belt, the pressure in his cock having become too much to draw out her pleasure any longer. She laughed as her lips found his blunt nipples, pulling one into her mouth as her dexterous fingers pushed his hands away before undoing his belt, unbuttoning his pants, and pulling his zipper down. He sprang out of the confining cloth against her hands, and she caressed him, cupping him as she teased his nipples.

He groaned, shoving his pants down to his ankles, struggling to be free of them. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right, not have his pants bunched around his ankles like some kid.

Once they were gone, he pushed her back onto the bed, lying down on top of her. She pouted for a moment, but he kissed her, shoving his tongue into her mouth as he shoved his cock into her. She cried out against his lips, arching into him. She shifted so he could enter her further, and they both groaned at the pleasure, her tight muscles squeezing him so hard he didn’t think he could prolong his orgasm much longer. He thrust into her, harder, faster, bringing them both to the edge before he lost control. She cried out her release as her muscles clamped down on him and she felt him spill his seed into her, coating her inner walls.

Once the waves had subsided, he shifted, pulling himself out of her. She whimpered, and he kissed her shoulder softly, “I’m not going far,” he murmured, shifting so she was spooned against him. “I love you,” he murmured into her hair.

“I love you. I tried so hard not to, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Shh…” he quieted her, pulling her body closer to his. Groping around, he found the tangled sheet around their ankles and pulled it over them. Contented, they drifted into sleep.

He awoke with her still in his arms, and he sighed, pulling her closer to him as he smelled the intoxicating smell of her hair.

She stirred, rolling over to look at him, her eyes still hazy with sleep, “I had a dream that you wouldn’t be here when I woke up,” she said in a small voice.

“I’ll always be here. I’m not going anywhere, ever again.” He retrieved his arm from under her back, laying her down before he leaned over to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth as he took his time kissing her; this time he would do it right.

The clank of banging pots interrupted them, and her eyes flew wide, “Faith,” she breathed.

“She said it was okay,” he said, reclaiming her mouth, “She was the one that convinced me,” he murmured, kissing her again.

She pushed him off her, “Not with her here,” she murmured, reaching up to kiss the frustration out of his eyes. Then she got up, pulling the sheet with her as she went to her dresser. He followed her, pulling the sheet away from her. “Angel!” she cried, trying to keep her voice low.

“Never hide yourself from me. You’re beautiful,” he told her seriously. She blushed, but nodded, turning to her dresser as he walked around her room, trying to find his pants. He found them and pulled them on as she got dressed. They met at her door, and he pulled her to him for a lingering kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly as she shallowly drew breath into her lungs. He kissed her again before opening the door.

“Good morning,” Faith said when they entered the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said. Buffy echoed the sentiment.

“I’m thinking about getting a place of my own,” Faith said as she puttered around the kitchen. “I love having you as a room mate, B, but after last night…I think this place is too small for the three of us, the walls are too thin, and my hearing’s too good.”

Buffy blushed crimson.

“I’ll start looking today, leaving you two alone to,” she looked them over, “Catch up,” she gave them a cheeky smile, before turning to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Damn, that was hot,” she muttered as she took a sip of her coffee, but all three of them knew she wasn’t talking about the tart beverage.

As they sat down to breakfast, Buffy looked up from her plate to the man seated across from her. She knew without a doubt he was what had been missing from her life. He filled the void inside her like no other could.

She smiled, turning back to her plate. She liked having the void filled. Felt rather nice...

END

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