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TITLE: The Lake

AUTHOR: Copper

EMAIL: coppersinger@yahoo.com

FEEDBACK: If you feel so inclined, I’d love to hear from you.

DISCLAIMER: Owned by JW, WB, Mutant Enemy, Fox, the writers and the actors who bring these amazing characters to life. No infringement intended. 



TIMELINE:  Future, same world as ‘Into the Night’ (for the curse).

SYNOPSIS: After the week's battles are done, the lovers meet at their lake.

DISTRIBUTION: If you have permission, it’s yours.  Everyone else, please ask.

NOTES: This is Serena and Deede’s fault – since we like to blame others for our own naughtiness. <g>  

DEDICATION: To Serena, who said ‘Write!’ and then told me I was good enough to do so, and to Deede, who agreed – Thank you both for the inspiration and friendship.

Buffy straightened up staring at the remains of the demon; one antler imbedded in his gut, another in his throat.  He, at least she thought it was a he, looked far less disgusting without them, but his natural sliminess, combined with both their blood upped the ‘ew’ factor considerably.  She tried to wipe some of said slime and blood off of her, but all that did was rub it deeper into the fibres…

“Maybe I should just get myself a rubber bodysuit, I’d never have to worry about dry-cleaning again – a quick spray with the hose and good as new.”

“Now that would be a sight… too bad you won’t live long enough to try.”  The pink polyester suit ruined the effect of the vampire’s leer.

“God, not only are you as unoriginal as they come, you’re also a pervert.” Turning around, the Slayer burst into laughter. At his growled, ‘What?’ she just said, “Pink polyester?”

“We just had a costume party – come dressed from your favourite decade.”

Rolling her hazel eyes, she asked, “Can we just get this over with?” and waited for him to attack.

Moments later, all that remained of him was dust. Unfortunately, said dust was mixing with the slime and blood to make a sort of paste.

Briefly, Buffy pictured herself in a bubble bath drinking a glass of red wine…but she could feel the gore drying on her skin and clothes and knew she couldn’t wait that long, especially since she had a body to bury.  With a sigh she grabbed a folding shovel, and got to work.  The sooner she finished, the sooner she could head to the lake.


Indistinct bright dots twinkled between the shadows of the leaves reflected on the water’s clear surface, illuminated by the glow of the moon.  An occasional dead fish or plant was visible; remnants of a time long ago before the lake had ceased to support life.  The most amazing thing about the lake was the hot spring bubbling from its bottom that kept it the perfect temperature no matter the weather.  And Buffy had never been so grateful for the strangeness of the Hellmouth.

She pulled a large box out of a tree, thankful that it was still there, and pulled out shampoo, conditioner, a sponge and body wash – all the necessary ingredients for post-slayage clean up.  Setting her supplies on a ledge built into the lake, the ruined clothes came off as quickly as possible.  Buffy winced when she felt her top rip, but figured that the crud on it had already guaranteed it for the garbage bin.

Slender, muscled legs carried the blonde into the water, where she submerged swimming underwater to the ledge.  The water felt incredibly good as it caressed her skin and the heat relaxed her muscles.  Grabbing the shampoo, small, strong hands massaged it into her scalp removing layers of dust and demon, sweat and oil.  Rinse, repeat and then she hoisted herself out of the water before using the conditioner.

Water cascaded down her back as she wrung the excess from medium length blond hair.  The drops glistened in the moonlight, buttocks, shoulders, breasts, even her feet were all dotted with the tiny beads.  The patches of dried blood, ‘Mine or the demon’s?’ the dried slime couldn’t distract from the elemental beauty of the scene.

Buffy quickly emptied some conditioner into her palms, rubbed and worked it evenly into her hair, then picked up the sponge and body wash.  Lightly, she scrubbed the cuts, increasing pressure to ensure the removal of the rest of the dirt and then, tossing the poof down she did a graceful dive back into the lake.

Her strokes were a caress as she rinsed the soap out of her hair and off her skin.  Diving down, she felt the soothing pressure of the jets from the spring on her somewhat sore muscles. ‘Not as good as his hands, but it’ll do,’ she though with a grin.

Buffy allowed herself to float to the surface then returned to the ledge to do a quick check on her cuts.  Her face showed no worry, but she thought some vitamin E would be good – who knew what was in that slime?

This time, strong arms grasped her waist when she pushed herself from the water.   Lips met greedily and her arms went around broad shoulders, soaking silk and denim.

“Oops, I think your shirt’s ruined.” 

Dropping a kiss on her nose, Angel laughed and pulled it over his head. He tossed it onto the pile asking, “Tough day at the office?”

“Take off the pants and we’ll talk,” she smirked, then dove in, swimming for a seat a little way down the bank. 

The vampire admired the graceful power of her arms and legs, and the sweet curve of her backside, waiting until she was settled.  Then, slowly, knowing how much she loved watching him – and how much he loved her gaze, he lowered the zipper and the pants.  He laid them neatly, folding them first, before repeating the process with his boxers.  Deep brown eyes met moss green ones, and though the gaze broke when he entered the lake the air pulsed with promise.

Reaching the makeshift step, Angel stood pulling Buffy in for a hug. 

“Mmmm... That feels so good.  I missed you.” 

“I know the feeling.”  Without releasing her, he lowered himself to the seat, turning her so she sat between his legs, his erection poking her back.  He groaned as she wriggled to make herself more comfortable.  “You sure you want to talk first?”

Giggling, the woman raised his hand and brushed her mouth across the knuckles, before wrapping her arms around his that encircled her waist.

“So, how was LA?”

“All right. Killed the demons, rescued Wesley’s books, celebrated… the usual.”

“Hard fight?”

“Not really… just messy.  Like yours,” he said remembering the clothes on the grass.  “If it hadn’t been for the size, they probably could have taken them, but eight feet is a bit tough.”

“Eight feet?  I thought the guys who took the books were scrawny sorcerers.”

“They were, but their guards…”

“Got it.”  For a moment it was quiet and they watched a dragonfly buzz over the water.

“So, what about here?  What made the mess anyway?”

“Chaos demon.  I’m not sure what was worse, the slime that dripped over everything or the blood – some awful green colour.  Not a pretty sight…  I think it was worse than the inside of the bezoar I killed in high school.”

“But it’s dead?”  He’d smelled her blood.

Reassuring him, she laughed saying, “Yes, impaled with its own antlers.” 

One side of his mouth lifted at her glee, before giving her a quick kiss.  At least it started that way, but when her teeth nipped his lower lip…

Breathing heavily, Buffy broke away, asking, “So what were you celebrating?”

“Being together, the rescue of Wes’ books and the cat from the tree, and Cordy and Gunn’s engagement.”

“Cat in a – Wait a second!  They got engaged?”  Buffy clapped her hands ecstatically.  “It’s about time!  Wish I could have been there, but I am so happy for them.”

“We missed you too, love.”  Huskily, “I missed you.”  He lowered his head to hers, but instead got his chin knocked.   Two ‘ows’ echoed through the trees.  When they’d both recovered, he wondered, “What…?”

“Sorry… but a cat in the tree?” she questioned.

“Actually, a kitten, little, gray, fluffy thing… It’s waiting at home for us.”

“You brought it home for me?”  Her eyes shimmered, and her heart turned to mush, as she threw her arms around her lover.

Gently he held her, stroking her hair, as he rested his dark head against her light one.  “Any thoughts on a name?”

Peeking up from his chest, Buffy shook her head.  “Not until I meet… is it a him or a her?”

“I think it’s a ‘she without the claws’ or something like that – Cordy was the one who took it to the vet…” He chuckled, “She complained about the shedding but I think it was touch and go for me to bring it home.”

“A kitty… just for me… our kitten. Thank you so much, Angel.”  Soft lips brushed against white skin and then she slipped off the shelf to float in the water, pulling him with her.

As they rested on the water, the air grew still, the quiet soon shaded with something… not quite indefinable.  The sensuousness of the water softly rekindled the passion set aside before. A thumb brushed over knuckles, a foot brushed a thigh, an arm a breast…

Then back by the shelf, mouths met… Slowly, exquisitely, a nip or lick interrupting the flow every so often as hands relearned faces before one tongue finally entwined the other. 

Buffy’s hands shaped Angel’s shoulders and biceps before burying in themselves in his hair.  One of his was already buried in the wet blonde tangle cradling her head, shifting it for better access or a different angle.  Eventually, she gasped for breath and Angel’s mouth began the descent to her breasts.

Using the tips of her nails, she lightly stroked across his own nubs, then circled them unsteadily as his lips caressed her, occasionally bringing a hand to rub or pinch before allowing the water and his tongue to remove what little sting he’d caused.  Just as she was about to pull him up for a kiss, his lips and teeth closed on her nipple and an almost silent moan escaped her.  Only his legs, kicking under them, kept her from sinking when he switched the torment to her other breast. 

She had no idea how long he’d been staring down at her, when she finally opened her eyes, realizing he’d risen and was just holding her above the water.  Seeing her still clouded gaze Angel pulled her up for another drugging kiss.  Only the brush of her hand over his swollen tip of his penis drew him away.

Slowly, as he had to her, Buffy caressed his erection.  Simple strokes, firm pressure, a nail barely touching the underside where he was so sensitive, the motion of the lake on his balls… then she took a deep breath and sank.  Surprise turned to pleasure-pain when her lips joined her hands… licking drops of pre-cum before the water could wash it away.  Opening her mouth, she blew bubbles around him, tickling, torturing before enclosing him within.  Her hands tugged lightly at the hair on his balls, her head bobbing as she felt her own moisture pool within her, before dripping out to mingle with the water.

Smoothly, as though sensing she too had reached her breaking point, Angel pulled her up raining kisses over her face as he slid her down, her femininity cradling him as her mouth had done moments before. 

Rolling onto his back, they floated towards the shallows… a brief calm, broken when strong, slim legs enclosed his hips, feet resting on his butt.  Almost reluctantly, he withdrew from Buffy’s heat, as before deliberately keeping his movements shallow as her hands moved over his back. 

Shallow turned quickly to deep and fast, the water churning as they rolled round and over, neither dominating just giving and taking and sharing… The splashing was the only sound heard until a hoarse, pleading, ‘Angel…’ and a roar were heard.  Then she felt teeth enter and her blood flowed down his throat, causing his hips to move faster despite the resistance of the water.  His hand reached between their legs and tweaked her clitoris and she joined him, her inner muscles rippled around him, body writhing as he convulsed over and around her…. Like the water churning, wave after wave of sensation rolled over them, rejoining, reinforcing a love deeper than the ocean.


Languidly, they swam about holding hands not wanting to leave. 

“I think I’m turning into a prune.”

“A dried flower maybe, but never a prune.”

“Sweet,” she said, “but we should probably head home.”

Angel gave her a look of exaggerated disappointment before letting go and setting off for the ledge where her things still rested.  He was out and ready with a towel when she arrived, having taken her time to allow herself the pleasure of admiring his body dripping with water in the moonlight.

They patted each other dry and got dressed, he in his jeans and her in his shirt – water spotted but in better condition than her ruined clothes.  Buffy tossed them in a plastic bag she’d found upon returning the other things to the box and replacing it as before.

Returning to his side, they embraced before leaving the clearing… the moonlight shining, stars glittering.

Soon, the night was quiet.

Then, in an apartment across town, came the delighted laughter of a woman upon meeting a little, charcoal gray kitten which she promptly named ‘Soot.’  It opened one eye and promptly went back to sleep.

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