Sunnydale Wholesale Beauty Supply, chapter 28
	
	
Well, hey. I'm going to a felony arraignment docket in about five minutes.



This was one of those moments where she was hyper-aware of everything that
was happening. Angelus, in his red silk shirt, his hand on Jack's neck; the way her
thighs stuck to the plastic seat of the booth; the spilled coffee from Jack's cup; the
paper bag of take-out coffees in the middle of the table.

As soon as her gaze fell to the sack, Angelus used his free hand to pull the coffee to him.
"I wouldn't want you to have any heroic ideas of trying to blind me with scalding coffee,"
he said. He put the sack on the floor.

"Aw, shit," Sunny said. "I don't get to save the day? Be hero girl?" She looked at Jack.
"I don't see any reason to sit here if you're gonna kill us both, anyway."

"I'm bored," Angelus said. "Buffy's not patrolling tonight. My princess is counting the
stars and won't leave her room. So I thought, why not pick up where we left off?"

"Gee, you make it so flattering," Sunny said. "And you're still not letting my
uncle breathe."

"Oh. Sorry," Angelus said, and suddenly punched him, knocking him into the wall.

Jack slumped in the corner, and Sunny lurched up, before she knew what she was
doing, the table edge digging into her thighs.

"Sit back down, unless you want me to break his neck instead," Angelus said.
"And keep your voice down."

"Why? You're gonna do it anyway," Sunny hissed.

"No, now I'm going to make you a proposition. Sit the fuck down."

She sat down again. "You've already killed him," she said.

Angelus looked heavenward. "No, stupid, feel his pulse. There. See? There wouldn't
be any fun in just killing both of you. And you know, I'm all about the fun."

Sunny leaned back. "Yeah, you're just a real dead man laughin'."

"Hey, I make the jokes," he said, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Well, here it is.
You leave with me, keeping your mouth shut, and I won't break Jack's neck right now."

Sunny shrugged. "Sure. No brainer. Can I have one of those coffees?"

"No, I think we'll go before your uncle wakes up and decides to be Hero Boy."


They walked out, and across the street to the alley beside the theatre. Angelus held
her by her waist, up to the ladder on the fire escape, and jumped effortlessly up to the first landing.
This was getting tiresomely familiar, she thought, climbing up to the roof. She was
thinking about the protection spell; she was wondering if it ran both ways. Angelus hadn't
killed her, or her uncle; they hadn't killed him. She clambered on the roof in his wake.

Once again, the gravel-inbedded tarred roof of the theatre, the old neon sign dark tonight.
No feature on Monday nights. There was the metal folding chair, the plastic milk crate,
set beside the door to the attic. She realized she was rubbing the heel of her palm,
feeling for the little bits of gravel from last time.

When she turned around, Angelus was staring at her, his hands on his hips. "You've
been up here before," he said.

"Yeah, twice," she said, sitting on the milk crate. "Once with Buffy, once with--you, actually."

He didn't move. "I haven't been up here with you."

"You have, but you don't remember," she said. "It's a magic spell. A protection spell.
Airmed, the Irish witch, yada yada yada, you thought it was a love spell, the upshot is
that if you kill me or Jack, our blood will restore your soul. Because we're Airmed's
descendants."

He looked as astonished as though she had said, "My name is Inigo Montoya."
She almost started laughing, and she did grin. She held up a hand in apology.
"I'm sorry, really. But if you could see the expression on your face---"

He walked over to her and flung himself on the metal chair. "Airmed. Jeeze. I always
wondered what all that was about."

"She poured wine on you and then cut her arm," Sunny said. "I saw it."

"In a dream, huh? Like those shamrocks? Well, it makes sense. That's why I like
you," he said. "Irish blood." He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. "Airmed
was a strange girl."

She leaned forward, hands clasped on her bare knees. "You really believe me?"
she asked.

"I can usually tell the difference between the truth and a lie, with you breathers.
Pretty easy, if a vampire pays attention." He stretched his legs in front of him,
crossing his ankles. "Well, this has certainly got me over my boredom." He waved
his hand. "Go home, then."

She shook her head. "Oh, no. I walk past you and you grab me." She bent and
picked up something that caught her eye. A piece of glass, not long enough for
her to grip, to cut herself. "You like surprises too much."

He took her wrist in a painful grip. "What are you doing?" He asked softly. "Were
you going to cut yourself? Why?"

She looked up and was astonished by the open, interested, expression on his face.
It was like he cared, or something.

"Answer me," he said, even softer, standing and drawing her to her feet.

"So you'd know---you'd know from the blood that I'm not lying, " she whispered.

"You don't lie to me," he said, pulling her wrist against his chest. They stood
looking at each other, almost touching. She let go of the piece of glass, and it
fell beside her foot. "Do you?" he asked.

"No," she said, but his mouth covered hers, and he pushed her against the cold
metal door, running his hands up and down her sides. Of their own volition, her
hands slid up his belly, inside his shirt, and he shuddered, kissing down her neck
and teasing her pulse with his tongue. She flinched, and he snorted a laugh.

They kissed and kissed, and he had his hand between her legs,
and she was straining mindlessly for that friction. When
he shoved his hand up the leg of her shorts, and there was nothing between her and
his fingertips, she moaned into his mouth.

"That's my girl," he murmured. He slid down, and, still stroking her, said, "You know,
I just have to have a taste."

She leaned helplessly against the door, one hand in his hair, one flattened on the
door, as he looked up, pushing the leg of her shorts back. She was breathing like
she'd run up the fire escape.

And his face changed, and he started to bite her.

She didn't have time to be frightened, because the pinch of the bite went away immediately,
because Angelus took his fangs out of her, and stepped back, straightening up.
"What the fuck? What's in your blood?" He squeezed her thigh, making two drops ooze
up, his demonic face intent.

She leaned on the door, her legs trembling. "I told you. Airmed."

He leaned closer. "You smell of---incense." He shifted his weight completely
away from her. "Jesus. You weren't kidding, were you? Makes sense. Her blood
began the spell, your blood completes it." He sighed. "Shit. Looks like the end of a beautiful friendship."

Her heart was still pounding. "What?"

He went back to human face. "You're out of here. Something's weird with you,
and your blood. Can't you feel the difference in the air? Fucking magic." He
snorted. "Or vice versa. I can't take any chances."

"That's it? " she said, hardly knowing what she was saying. "You are such a cheap date!"

He gave her an extraordinary look, then burst out laughing. He shook his head.
"Come on, then," he said, "I'll buy you a latte." He took her arm, and led her to the fire
escape.

"No, thanks, my uncle's probably out looking for us." She climbed down the ladder to
the fire escape.

"What's he gonna do to me?" Angelus scoffed, swinging down beside her.

"Not you, me. He'll ground me."

"Go on, then," Angelus said, and actually chuckled. He leaned back against
the railing and watched her climb down.

When she got to the end of the ladder, she let it out and dropped easily to
the ground. She looked up.

Angelus was gone.