A/N: So another update, whoo... except I really don't know how I feel about this chapter either. I have absolutely no faith in writing skills now (That was not meant to be a pun)

Please Read and make sure to Review, the only way I can know if I'm doing it right or not is if you tell me!

I'm still waiting for her to change her mind, and the for the cops to show up for even thinking about what I want to do to this girl, so for a while I just run my fingers through her long dark hair. It's like silk or some kind of soft shit against my fingers and when I close my eyes it feels the same as those long blonde locks. I can even smell that indescribable scent that I thought was only Buffy. Maybe my brain was just fucking with me.

"Buffy," I breathe, my eyes tightly shut as I imagine her small frame leaning into mine. I hold her tighter as if I let go I'll lose her and I can't lose her again. I need her, she's my literal ying to my yang... or maybe she's the yang. Fuck it, one of us is the ying and the other is the yang, the point is, we complete each other. The dark slayer and the light slayer, the good and the bad, one must always exist with the other and we're so much stronger when we're together.

But... I... left...

"Who's Buffy," I hear suddenly and it snaps me from my fantasy. I open my eyes and Rachel is staring back with curious eyes, she may even have a streak of jealousy in them.

"Just a girl from my past," I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, "She doesn't matter anymore. That part of my life is over forever. I'm moving to the east coast and starting fresh."

"I wish you'd take me with you," she says, with a crooked smile, "I want to be on Broadway, I mean, that's where I was born to be."

"Well," I sigh, curling more pieces of hair around my fingers and thinking about what I was born to be, "We can't ever escape our birthright. No matter how hard we try."

"I get this strong feeling that you've been through a lot," she says, chewing on her bottom lip before turning her gaze downward to stare at the silver cross around my neck, "If you wanted to talk I'd..."

"Trust me, kid," I laugh lightly, running my thumb up and down the strong line of her jaw, "You couldn't handle it. You're little town here has somehow existed as a sanctuary and I don't know why they haven't come here. It's like this perfect normal little town."

"Who's they," she asks curiously, her entire attention devoted to me and my words.

All the monsters hidden under your bed and around every corner, is what I want to say, but instead I shake my head and answer, "I'm just talking shit and I'm tired of talking. I'm not really a talker, I'm more of a doer."

I growl the last word and lean down to bite the soft flesh of her neck. She jumps and lets out a soft moan while her arms around me, pull me in deeper. I continue planting gentle kisses and rough bites all the way up and down her neck, knowing full well that I'm marking my territory. I think hickey's are sexy, it's like I've claimed them. And I love claiming people.

Our bodies slide against each other and I can't help a soft moan when her leg connects with me. I'm about to give her the roughest kiss on her lips when she puts two fingers to my lips.

"Wait," she's breathing hard and the expression on her face is unreadable.

"What," I breathe and I realize I'm already out of breath, not from physical exertion, we haven't actually done anything yet, but from the anticipation and the need inside me.

And then she says the worst possible words a sexy, sixteen year old girl, who I'm about to bang the sanity out of, could say.

"I'm a virgin," she whispers, almost shamefully.

And BAM.

Frying pan to the head.

Kiss.

Of.

Death.

What the fuck am I suppose to do now? My conscience is screaming at me to run; take a step back, thank her for the evening, and get the hell out of dodge. Then my hormones are playing devil's advocate; she's reached the age of consent, she's not drunk and she wants it.

And fuck do I want it.

So, what if I give in and do the deed? What kind of damage control are we talking about? There's definitely going to be clingyness, probably tears, and a lot of inexperienced fumbling, if I can even get her to reciprocate.

"No," I say firmly, reluctantly letting go of her, "We can't do this."

"Why not," she whines, suddenly sounding exactly like a sixteen year old girl.

"I'm going to assume you've dated," I say, still trying to catch my breath and keeping track of how much space is between us.

"I've had a few boyfriends," she shrugs, as if none of them meant a thing. Maybe they didn't, I'm not one to know what any of her past relationships were like.

"And why haven't you ever gotten naked," I ask, raising an eyebrow, smiling because I know what she's going to say next.

"I wasn't ready," she says and BINGO goes my brain.

"Right," I say, "So suddenly you're good to go with a complete stranger? You don't know a thing about me. I could be some demented serial killer who gets her jollies by dismembering teenage girls."

"You're not," she rolls her eyes.

"You don't know that," I reply, maybe I haven't taken apart any girls, but I definitely have "murder" on my rap sheet and what if that urge comes back? Once you kill someone, you're never the same. Never. Am I really all better now? Something dark, deep deep down inside wants to see her bleed, I can feel it. I can feel it bubbling.

"Well if you were, I highly doubt that you would tell me as you just did," kids got a point, but if I was going to kill her it wouldn't have made much difference if I told her or not.

"All part of my rouse and now that I got you all alone and trusting me-" I say, staring her straight in her dark brown eyes with as much homicidal maniac I can manage. She doesn't buy it so I roll my eyes and shrug, "Alright, whatever. But the point is you don't know me."

"I know you're a good person," she answers softly, with an adorable smile.

"You don't know that," I challenge, shaking my head, starting to get tired of this topic. I'm a super bad-ass bitch who deserves to be alone. This little girl has known me for five minutes and she thinks she knows who I am.

"I do," she answers quickly, stepping towards me and making me take a step back, "The way you jumped in and saved me from that man without a second thought. You didn't even hesitate or think about your own safety. You had no idea who I was and yet you had no problems risking your life for me."

"I'm not a good person," I try again to tell her how wrong she is about me, one good deed does not make up for a lifetime of bad ones, "If you knew- Why me? Why not any of the people you dated? You know I won't be sticking around, so you're completely cool with losing it on a one night stand? You're just going to regret it."

"No, I'm not," she shouts and her angry outburst catches me off guard, "Why not those boys I've dated? Because I never once wanted to have sex with them. I never felt that attraction inside. All I ever felt was pressure. Pressure to do it because they wanted to do it. I feel it with you. You make me feel good. You make me want more. And I don't have that pressure with you, because I know you want it just as bad as I do, but you're not expecting it from me."

"Shit," I growl, this girl knows exactly what to say to get me going and using my slayer strength and speed I grip her ass, lift and shove her up against the wall, before she can even blink, "I'm going to hell."

Her eyes go wide when her brain finally catches up with what happened, "How- I mean I knew you were strong- but-"

"I work out," I smirk then crush my lips against hers, stopping any further questions. It takes her a few seconds to respond to the kiss, but when she does it's the same feeling I get when I'm battling one of those apocalypses. A rush of pure adrenaline and excitement that no drug could ever come close to. I know she can feel it too because her short nails are digging into my shoulder blades and her heels are pushing so hard into the backs of my thighs that she's actually lifting herself a few inches up the wall before sliding back down again.

I pin my hips against hers, locking her in place against the wall while I shift my hands from her ass to the backs of her thighs so she doesn't have to hold her legs up. I have no problems carrying her weight, so I may as well. I don't let the kiss break for even a second, determined to memorize the soft feel of her perfect lips for one of those lonely nights in the future.

I grind my hips purposefully against hers and the kiss finally breaks as one of her hands tears into my shoulder while her head falls back against the wall. I keep a rhythm that she soon follows, her back arching off the wall as her eyes alternate from being shut tightly to open wide. At first her mouth just opens and closes silently, but as I lick a line from her collarbone to her jaw, she begins to let out soft puffs of air.

I carry her upstairs, only releasing her lips for milliseconds to gauge where I am and where I'm going. After some fumbling and some giggling from Rachel, I find her bedroom and toss her down onto her bed. She lays back on her elbows waiting for me, a crooked sexy smile on her face, and her tank top has ridden up enough for me to have the perfect view of her tight, toned stomach.

But then there's a flash in front of my eyes and I can see her, bloodied and broken. Broken by me. I take a step back, frightened by the vision, but a second later it's gone and it's just Rachel laying there looking confused.

"Is something wrong," she asks, suddenly becoming modest and pulling down her shirt.

"N-no," I stutter, shaking my head, the vision still ingrained in my memory, "Yes. I can't do this."

If I don't do this fast I won't ever be able to do it, "I had a good time and your food was amazing, but I need to go before I make a huge mess of your life like I did with mine."

"Wait," she screams, as I start to bolt out of her room, but the shrillness of her voice catches me and I turn around, let her have some last words, "Stay."

I shake my head, "I really can't, believe me this is totally miles away from my nature, I'm all about doing the nasty then disappearing, but I guess even I have my limits."

"We don't have to have sex," she cries, and tears have actually begun to slip from her eyes, "just stay with me. We'll just sleep."

I chew on my cheek nervously as I think about it. As grotesquely pink her bed is, actually her whole room is fairly juvenile, I guess that's what she is though, it looks extremely comfortable. Much more comfortable than the cemetery. But I didn't stick around after sex, is what I keep telling myself, even as I begin to move back towards her, throwing my dirty white beater over my head and across the room as I lunge for her in my bra and leather pants. My lips crash against hers as I settle my body between her legs and for awhile the only sound in the room is our pants and moans and of our lips sucking on each others.

When I find the strength to pull away I reply breathlessly, "No sex."

She looks disappointed but she nods anyway.

"Good," I breathe with a nod, pushing myself off her and then undoing the button on my pants.

"By the way," I add, licking my wet lips and dragging my fingers roughly through my hair, "I sleep naked."