__Savior__
By Ashley P



The man's blue-gray eyes pierced through the near-darkness from behind his half-rimmed glasses. The alley he was walking down shone with the morning's rain. The gentle shush of traffic could be heard in the distance. He was far from the freeway, somewhere deep in the heart of the City of Angels. Why the city had been named after the heavenly creatures was beyond him. Evil seemed to emanate from the very ground he walked on. Evil also seemed to be lurking somewhere down this alley. His training as a Watcher had helped him to be able to sense vampires, but it was the time he had spent as a Rogue Demon Hunter that had honed his ability to detect evil in all its forms, and he sensed evil tonight.

The alley was rank in the Los Angeles heat, a sickening mix of rotting garbage, sweat, and dead things. Wesley was deeply thankful that he had not eaten anything since that morning, though his stomach growled at him for it. As he walked further his shoes crunched on glass. He swore silently, and prayed that nothing had heard the crunching, or the rumbling of his stomach. He stopped, straining his ears to listen for the barest of sounds. He didn't have to. A scream pierced the darkness and Wesley broke into a run. Even though it was summer, Wesley wore a jacket, which served to hide the many weapons he carried. He pulled a stake as he ran toward the scream's origin.

A broken door at the end of the alley was the only bare space, so he entered. Wooden columns held a crumbling ceiling, glass and litter was strewn across the grimy cement floor. A broken window was the only source of light, casting an eerie blue glow on a still form on the floor. Wesley made his way cautiously to the person, a woman. Blood covered her shoulders, though it was starting to clot. Two neat holes were bored into the left side of her neck. Her long black hair fanned out from where she lay still on the floor. Wesley could tell that she was breathing so he checked her pulse. It was thready but strong, a good sign. Ashes covered her black tank top and blue jeans. She held a stake in her right hand. Whoever this woman is she knew what she was fighting, he thought, and was prepared. She was small, almost an entire foot shorter that Wesley. Black tattoos accented her pale arms. He recognized them as being Celtic in origin. She had a piercing that Wesley knew was called a labret piercing; her ears were pierced multiple times. She was very pretty.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

She fluttered her eyes for a moment, locking onto his. She muttered something incoherently, then passed out again. Her eyes were a startlingly dark shade of blue. Wesley decided she wasn't in bad enough shape to need to be taken to the hospital. All she possibly needed was to have a blood transfusion and her wound tended to, things that could be done at headquarters. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket and called Angel.

* * * * *

Wesley waited for Angel to arrive. He had no car with him, and it would look a little suspicious for a man to be carrying an unconscious woman down a dark alley this late at night. He took out his handkerchief and pressed it onto the seeping wound on her pale neck. Her breathing was steady, pulse strong. Somehow she already seemed to be healing. The blood flowing from her neck was slowing, clotting. A normal human would have still been bleeding profusely, seeing as how the vampire had pierced her jugular. He saw a bulge in her back pocket, a wallet maybe. He pulled the object out and saw that it was indeed a wallet. He opened it and found about fifty dollars, and a Virginia Driver's License. The girl on the license was named Loren Williams, 20 years old, 5'5" with blue eyes and brown hair. She was smiling in the picture, a beautiful white smile that lit up her pretty face. Wesley put the wallet back.

The girl was starting to wake up. Wesley stood up, giving her room and time to assess her surroundings. She opened her eyes, looking around dazedly. She tried to get up, but some unknown injury caused her to cry out in pain and fall back onto the floor. Wesley went over to help her, but she backed away from him, putting herself in a corner, stake at the ready.

"There's no need for that", Wesley said, pointing to the stake. "I'm not a vampire, I'm here to help."

The girl said nothing, just kept those painfully blue eyes locked onto the stranger in front of her. She tried once again to get to her feet but with the same results. She held her ankle, the source of her pain.

"Let me help you, please?"

She looked at Wesley and nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"I'm here to help. That's what I do. I was patrolling, and I heard you scream, so I ran to see what was happening. By the time I got here the vamp was dust and you were unconscious."

"That sounds about right to me." answered Loren, balancing her weight on her uninjured foot. She wiped the ashes from her stake and placed it in her belt, which was equipped with a holster for the stake, along with several others. They started walking toward the exit.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." he said, flashing a perfect smile at her.

She returned the smile. "I'm Loren Williams." She shook his hand and looked him straight in his blue-grey eyes. "Thank you for helping me."

"All in a day's work. I noticed you had a stake with you. Do you often go around trying to kill vampires?" Wesley said jokingly.

"You could say that. Like with you helping people, it's what I do." she said, going quiet at the end.

"And how did you come by that? Most people don't even know that vampires really exist, much less go out looking for them."

"It's what I do. You could kind of say I was born for it." she said, halfway echoing Wesley's earlier words. Wesley was confused by this.

"Were your parents vampire hunters? I'm sorry but I'm a little confused when you say you were born for it."

"No. My parents don't even know that vampires truly exist."

"Well then what do you mean?" Wesley asked, becoming a bit agitated.

Loren hesitated, trying to think how best to answer. Finally she just looked the man in the eyes and said, "I'm a Slayer."

* * * * *

Wesley stumbled and nearly tripped upon receiving this news. Loren's firm grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from pitching headlong onto the wet Los Angeles pavement.

"Are you okay?" she asked in her slight Southern drawl.

"Yes, I'm fine. Wait, no I'm not, how can you be the Slayer? It's my understanding as an ex-Watcher that in order for a new Slayer to be called into action, the reigning Slayer has to die or give up her position, usually the former."

They had stopped walking, or limping in Loren's case. They now faced each other, Wesley looking down at the much shorter Loren with a look of curiosity and skepticism in his blue eyes.

Loren looked a bit stunned at Wesley's admittance of having once been a Watcher and said as much. "You were a Watcher? Whose?"

"Buffy's… and Faith's. Obviously I wasn't very good at it. Faith went on a killing spree, and Buffy tried to kill Faith. Needless to say I was disposed of as a Watcher."

"I'm very sorry to hear that you had such a rough time of it. But things could be worse. You could be dead. From what I've heard things got a little crazy in Sunnydale. Something about the mayor turning into a monster and eating people, and then, as if that weren't enough…" Loren made a gesture with her arms and a noise indicating an explosion, "…the school blew up. Although I believe y'all had a little something to do with that." Loren's voice was teasing toward the last bit. Wesley couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape his lips. It had been quite a spectacular explosion.

"Yes, we had to blow the school up. It was infested with all manner of evil creatures, being on a Hellmouth and all." Wesley and Loren started back walking toward the other end of the alley. He noticed that she wasn't limping as heavily, but she still seemed to be in some pain.

"Are you hurt anywhere else besides your ankle?" he asked as they continued to walk.

"Yeah, I think I may have a few cracked ribs. My right side hurts like hell. And my wounds hurt where he bit me."

"He?"

"Yes, he. It was a male vamp. I've been hunting him for weeks. He liked to rape while he fed, sick fucker." Wesley looked over to Loren, whose face had suddenly gone very stoic. Until know he hadn't heard Loren swear, so he wondered why the sudden outburst of harsh language. He didn't ask, he wouldn't push it, at least not for know. A Slayer could cause serious damage to a human, and Wesley did not want to be on the other end of a Slayer's wrath. They continued to walk in silence down the alley. As they reached the end of the street, Angel pulled up in his classic convertible. Gunn was in the car with him. Safety in numbers applies to vampires too.

* * * * *

Angel and Gunn introduced themselves once Wesley and Loren reached the car. Wesley explained the whole situation and how Loren was a Slayer. Angel and Gunn both listened attentively, Angel looking a bit alarmed. Once the whole story had been laid out, Loren heaved herself into the back of the car, wincing in pain as she sat. Wesley watched her, knowing he'd need to take a look at her ribs to ensure none had been severely fractured. She also had cuts on her left thigh, knife wounds from what he could tell, and they were still bleeding. He wondered just how many vamps she might have fought tonight. She may need a trip to the hospital after all. Wesley took the seat next to her and buckled himself in before Angel sped off into the Los Angeles night.

"When we get back to the hotel I'll need to examine your ribs, to ensure nothing serious is happening." Wesley said, turning to Loren.

Loren gave Wesley a weary look, asking, "Is that completely necessary?"

"Yes, I'm afraid it is. I have to ensure that you haven't broken any ribs, or, worse, that any internal bleeding is present."

"OK, but I don't want to be on parade. Can we do it away from everyone? Forgive me, but I'm a bit shy."

"That's perfectly fine. I myself am a shy person, being English and all." Wesley laughed at his own joke. When he looked over to Loren to see is she shared his joke she was smiling, but it was a sad smile. Wesley quickly quieted himself, wondering why she had such sadness in her face. There was something painful in this young woman's past, and his natural curiosity had been piqued. Somehow he'd find out what had happened to her, and he would help her to forget. Because that's what he did, he helped people. Out of his peripheral vision he saw Loren shiver.

"Are you cold" he asked.

"Just a little." she answered.

"Here take my jacket. It's very warm."

Loren took the jacket, which was at least a size too large for her. It enveloped her like a blanket, still warm from Wesley's body heat.

"Thanks." she said, flashing a smile at him that crept up into her dark blue eyes. "If I'd known I would be riding in a drop-top I would've brought a jacket. But unfortunately, it hadn't been in my plans for the night." The sadness had vanished from her face, leaving her smiling at the man who had rescued her.

Wesley took time to study her face. Her nose and cheeks were lightly freckled, her lips small but full. When she smiled she flashed perfect teeth at him save for one flaw, a very slight gap between her top front teeth. He saw now that her hair was not black, but a medium shade of brown that most people called chestnut. Her hair was long, reaching halfway down her back. Her eyes were the dark blue of sapphires, the pupils rimmed with gold. She sported five earrings in each ear. Her bottom lip was pierced so that the piercing stuck straight out. As he watched her she reached into her mouth and removed the "piercing", which she later showed was a magnet. She tossed the jewelry out of the moving car and rubbed the spot where it had been. She wore no other jewelry besides the earrings, which were real. She didn't need it, seeing as how she had one large tattoo covering each arm. The tattoos were real. They were ancient Celtic symbols of empowerment, probably shown to her by her Watcher. Wesley wondered if they worked, if they really protected her. They obviously hadn't tonight.

Every time Angel hit one of the many potholes in Los Angeles she whimpered. When they finally reached the hotel Wesley had to help Loren out of the car, and she leaned heavily upon him as they made their way inside.

* * * * *

Cordelia and Fred rushed out to greet everyone. Cordelia introduced herself in her usual rambling manner. Fred shyly shook Loren's hand and said, "Hi!" in her overexcited Texas twang. Loren said hello back in her own slight Southern drawl. Fred beamed at her, happy to meet a fellow country girl. Angel relayed the evening's story to the other women, both of whom seemed to be bursting with questions that they were too polite to ask. Loren confirmed the whole story, her voice weak with fatigue, pain, and blood loss. She leaned more heavily on Wesley's arm, her legs starting to shake with exhaustion.

"I need to sit or lie down or something. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand." Wesley excused himself and Loren and guided her across the hotel lobby to his office, drawing the mini-blinds closed. He helped prop her up on his desk, her eyes filling with tears from the pain radiating from her injured ribs.

Wesley walked around the desk and rummaged through the top drawer, the place where he kept his supply of painkillers. He had learned that pain was a part of his job, but that didn't mean that he couldn't take something to make that pain go away. He walked back around the desk and offered one of the pills to Loren, telling her, "It will help the pain a great deal. I'll be back in just a moment with some water." He walked out of his office, pulling the door shut behind him.

Angel and the others had gathered close to the door, Cordy being the closest. She was the first to ask the obvious question.

"How is she a Slayer? Don't Buffy or Faith have to die or whatever before another Slayer, you know, gets Slayerized???"

Wesley answered, "Not necessarily. If the council deems another Slayer unfit, a new girl is chosen to take her place. I'm guessing that since Faith has been put in jail, the council has replaced her with Loren." He removed his glasses from his face, chewing on the earpiece, a surefire sign that the gears in his brain were fast at work. "I don't have time to think about this now. Cordy I want you to get on the phone to Giles and see if he has any information about this. I have to make sure she isn't too seriously injured." Wesley walked over to get a glass of water, then returned to his office. Loren was still sitting on his desk, eyes red from crying. Wesley pulled the handkerchief he always carried from his back pocket and offered it to her. She took it, looked up at him and voiced her thanks. She wiped her eyes and face with the hanky, then tried to hand it back to Wesley. He put up a hand and shook his head saying, "Keep it. I have plenty of them."

"Thanks."

"You're very welcome. Now, I'm going to need you to uh, um…"

"Take my clothes off?"

Wesley laughed nervously, then turned serious. "Well yes. I have to examine your ribs, and I'm going to dress the wounds on your leg. Is that alright?"

"Yeah. It's just…"

"Just what?"

"Nevermind. You'll see." Loren lowered herself down gingerly from the desk, balancing on her uninjured ankle. She lifted her shirt up over her head, whimpering in pain as she did so. Then she took her shoes off, and slid her jeans down around her ankle, leaving only her socks and black satin bra and panties to cover her pale body. Her entire right side was purple from bruises. Her black satin bra served as a contrast against all that purple, her pale skin made paler by the material. Wesley moved his hands over her ribs. Nothing was broken, just bruised as hell. Loren cursed under her breath as he probed, squirming with the pain of it. Wesley apologized, moving around the desk to reach for something. He happened to glance at her back, and what he saw stopped him in his tracks. Across the perfect whiteness of her back were raised scars. There were too many to count, dozens, if not a hundred. Many of the scars criss-crossed, bleeding into each other. The scars looked old, probably ten years, which meant that she had received them when she was a child. All Wesley could do was stare at them, and feel sorrow, sorrow that someone so young had such pain inflicted upon them. He knew what it was like to be abused, but he had never seen anything like this. He considered himself lucky after seeing the tangle of scars upon her pale back.

"Who did that to you?" he asked, an edge of anger in his voice. Loren stayed still, head hung low. She took several deep breaths before she answered, "My stepmother. You know the whole Cinderella story, the wicked stepmother and all that…happened to me."

"What about your father?"

"He died when I was six. I'd never known my mother, she died from complications after I was born. When he died my stepmother was awarded custody. My father left everything to me when he died, and my stepmother hated him and me for it. She told me that since she wouldn't get my money, she'd at least put me to some good. I was made to do all the cleaning, all the housework, everything. When I was eleven, I refused to do any more for her. She took a belt to my back, beating me unconscious. She kept beating me after I passed out, screaming at me the whole time. The neighbors heard the screaming. They broke the door down and stopped her, but it was too late. I spent a month in the hospital lying on my stomach, trying to heal."

Wesley had gone very quiet, his anger reddening his face. He was angry because he knew that many of the world's monsters weren't really monsters at all, but humans. Evil humans were among the most ruthless of beings, a fact that grieved Wesley to no end. He walked back around his desk to face Loren, who had started crying again, this time from anger, not from pain. He could feel the anger radiating like heat off her skin. Her pale skin seemed to be a faint shade of red now. He took her chin in his hand and tipped her face upwards so that her gaze would meet his. Her blue eyes held all the pain that she had known in her life and were spilling it all down her face. Wesley wiped the tears from her face and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"I promise you, I will never let anyone hurt you like that again as long as I live. You have my word."

This act of sincerity and kindness caused her to lose what little control she had over her emotions. Her silent tears turned to racking sobs, her legs gave way beneath her. Wesley tried to grab her to keep her from falling, but he was off-balance and fell to the floor with her. She cried so hard that she had to fight to get her breath. Wesley held Loren in his arms, as close to his body as he could. He knew that physical contact was the most healing, comforting force in the universe. He rocked her back and forth, stroking her hair, shushing her, as a mother would with a child who has just woken from a terrible nightmare. Only for Loren, the nightmare had been real, and she hadn't had a mother to make the monsters go away. She cried until there were no more tears. She clung to Wesley, still whimpering. Ten years of pain and memories had been spilled from her eyes, leaving her empty and tired. She fell asleep with Wesley still holding her, still rocking. He picked her up off the floor, wrapping his coat around her to cover her almost naked body. There was a sofa in the nook across from the office. He laid her down on it, and fetched a blanket. He draped the blanket over her body, then went to try and see if there were any I.V.'s left. After the crying and blood loss, she would need to get some fluids into her body. He found one, the last one, and hooked it up to her arm. He knew it wouldn't wake her, since the painkiller she'd taken also help one to sleep. He turned out the lights, left the office, and went to tell the others what had happened.

* * * * *

Loren woke feeling groggy. The pain in her right side had waned into a dull ache. Rapid healing was one plus to being a Slayer. Her neck wounds had nearly sealed shut; no scars would form there, thankfully. Loren had enough scars, physical and emotional. She had only shown Wesley the physical; she still kept the emotional locked deep inside, but they wouldn't stay that way. Her soul ached to bear itself, to connect with another, to give itself completely to someone worthy. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then remembered that she was wearing nothing but socks and underwear.

"Fuck.", she whispered. She got up from the couch she had been sleeping on, the blanket that had been keeping her warm falling to the floor. As she bent down to pick it up, a lamp clicked on. She gasped and straightened up, covering herself with the blanket. Wesley sat behind his desk in the adjacent office.

"Jesus, Wesley, you scared the hell outta me."

"Sorry. I've been sitting in here, in case you woke and needed anything."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About five hours. You've had a rough night. The painkiller I gave you had a sleep aid in it. I figured you could use the sleep, you look like you've been running on all eight cylinders for days."

"I've gone longer." Loren replied. Wesley was standing now. He reached over to the desk and picked up some clothes.

"I had your clothes washed for you. They were covered in blood and ashes."

Loren walked over to Wesley, the blanket still wrapped around her bruised body, and took the clean clothes from him. "Thank you." She walked back over to the couch, then turned back to Wesley.

"Do you mind turning around real quick while I get dressed?"

"No, no at all." Wesley turned his back on Loren, but he could still see her reflection in one of the cabinets he kept in his office. He couldn't help but watch her put her clothes on. She still moved rather gingerly, but he could tell that she was already healing well. The bruises had begun to fade, and the cuts and fang holes were nearly completely healed.

"You can turn back around now." Wesley did just that. She had started putting her boots on, wincing slightly as she did.

"Are you still in pain." he asked, concern filling his handsome features.

"A little, but it's fading." She never looked up while she laced up her boots.

"Good, that's a good sign." Wesley sighed loudly, then asked, "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Loren hesitated before answering. She looked at Wesley, answering, "No. I just got into town."

"Yes, well, you could stay with me if you wanted. Everyone else has gone home, but I think they wanted you to come back tomorrow. We could use someone like you in the office."

"I think I'd like that very much. Give myself a chance to do some good. I've only been slaying for about six months. I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Right well, let's get a move on then." Wesley collected his things and packed them into the leather bag he carried to work, grabbed his car keys, and turned off the light in his office. Loren followed him out to the parking lot where everyone parked. The only car left was Angel's convertible. Wesley and Loren climbed into his Jeep and headed toward his apartment. The drive to his place wasn't long, and they didn't say much to each other on the way. Loren simply remarked on how she couldn't see any stars through the sunroof. Wesley told her that it was almost impossible to see the stars in L.A. because of all the light pollution.

"The lights from the city drown out all the stars."

"It's a pity. I love to just sit and look at the stars. Reminds me that this world is much bigger than myself. Sometimes I feel everything closing in on me, but I just look at the stars and I know somewhere out there, there may be other planets, other people and God."

It surprised Wesley to hear Loren admit that she believed in God. But then again, if vampires and demons are real, then God can be real as well.

After this small bit of sharing Loren didn't speak for the rest of the ride. She just stared idly out the window. When they reached his apartment he had to help Loren up the stairs. Her ankle was still a bit sore, but it was healing fast. Wesley put the key in the lock and let walked inside before Loren, making sure nothing was there. When he had ascertained that the coast was clear he let Loren come in. She looked around the place, eyes taking in everything.

"I'm going to go put my things away. I'll be back in a second."

"I'll be right here." She watched Wesley as he walked into his bedroom. He was tall, she liked tall men. When he had held her as she cried, she had caught the faintest whiff of seawater. Every man she had known, which wasn't many, had their own distinctive smell. Wesley's was the ocean. She could almost taste the salt on her tongue, could almost hear the crash of the waves. When he came back from his room he was sans jacket, his blue shirt bringing out his light blue eyes. He was a handsome man, that much was true, but he held something dark in him, something dangerous, just under the surface. That promise of danger made him sexy. She watched him walk across the room to her, coming closer than she usually allowed others to be. But with him she felt safe, felt as if she'd known him forever. Maybe all Slayers felt this way around Watchers, helped them to earn their trust.

"I want you to have the bedroom. You need to be able to sleep comfortably."

"Well, usually I'd say no, but right now I'm gonna take you up on that offer. But what I'd really love is a shower. Wash all this dirt away."

"Certainly. The bathroom is right behind you. Towels are in the closet." Wesley turned toward the kitchen.

"Wesley?"

He turned back around.

"Thanks, for saving me. If you hadn't helped me in that alley I probably would have been found by another vamp, and…"

"Don't mention it. Like I said, it's what I do." Loren simply smiled at him and turned back around to go take a shower.

She walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She took her clothes off, being careful around her bruised ribs. She turned on the water, getting it as hot as she could stand, then stepped into the glass enclosed shower. She let the hot water massage her shoulders, washing the blood away from her neck and thighs. She took some of Wesley's shampoo, worked it into a lather, then massaged it into her thick, dark hair. There was a bar of soap in the shower, which she used to wash her wounds. She rinsed everything off, and stepped back out of the shower. She grabbed a towel and dried herself, then put her clothes back on, wrapping the towel around her wet head. She walked out of the bathroom to find Wesley sitting on the sofa, reading a book with a cup of tea still steaming on the coffee table. Another cup sat beside it, along with cream and sugar.

"Is that for me?" Loren asked, pointing to the cup full of steaming brown liquid.

"Yes, I thought you might like some tea. A good hot cuppa always helps me when I've had a rough day." With that Wesley leaned forward and took a liberal sip from his own cup, closing his eyes as he did so, enjoying the hot sweetness of his tea.

Loren walked over and sat next to Wesley on the sofa, putting liberal amounts of cream and sugar in the tea. She took a tentative sip of the hot liquid. It was perfect. She held the hot cup in her hands, letting it warm her. She turned to Wesley who had turned his attention back to his book. She got up and starting walking slowly around the apartment, looking at the various books and paintings Wesley had. She spotted the refrigerator, suddenly realizing that she was starving.

"Do you mind if I poke around in here?"

"No, help yourself."

Loren managed to rustle up a few eggs and some bacon, so she decided to cook a little midnight breakfast. She made enough for the both of them, and Wesley ate his quickly, telling her how delicious it was. Loren laughed at him, a sound that he was glad to hear.

"I've always had a knack for cooking. It's kind of a pre- requisite in the South. You'll have to let me cook you a big dinner one night."

Wesley returned her laughter, responding, "I'd like that very much." When they were finished she got up and cleared their plates, then washed them and put them away.

"Well, I think I'm about ready to hit the hay. Thanks again for letting me stay here Wesley."

"You're very welcome." She walked into the bedroom and stripped her clothes off. She always slept naked, even on the coldest nights. She just hoped Wesley didn't come in and find her in her birthday suit.

* * * * *

The cool air of the room washed over her naked skin as she climbed into Wesley's queen sized bed. The sheets were also cool, but she knew that in a few minutes they would be warm from her own body heat. Slayers ran a slightly higher body temperature that most humans, which mean they felt cold most of the time, but once they were wrapped in a blanket they warmed up quickly. Loren had put her hair back up in its ponytail; it had partially dried by now. She reached down and pulled the sheets and comforter over her naked form, then laid her head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

Pain. Blinding pain, radiating from her lungs up to her chest. She was running, had been for sometime. Her lungs and leg muscles had reached their limit, and she knew she wouldn't be able to run much longer. But she had to keep going, had to get away.

She couldn't see where she was going. It was nearly dark, the only light coming from the full moon above the thick trees. If she stopped she'd be dead, the man behind her would kill her for sure. She was a fast runner, the top runner in the state, but the man was just as fast, possibly faster.

Her feet were cut and bleeding from running in no shoes, her arms cut from being slapped by tree branches. Her shirt and jeans were wet and sticky from blood, but it wasn't hers. She had walked in on him as he finished killing her older sister. He looked human, but something was wrong with his face.

Suddenly she was facedown on the forest floor, she had tripped over a tree root. Then the man was there, like he had come out of thin air. He reached down to her, breathing hard, grabbed her by her hair and heaved her up onto her feet. She would have screamed if there had been any breath in her lungs, would have cried out to God for help. The man still held her by her hair, bending her head back, exposing her neck. Instinct told her to go with him, to wait until the moment to strike. That moment came as he came down to bite her. She twisted to the right, throwing him off balance, but he took a handful of her hair with him. She knew what to do, pure ancient impulse had taken over. She delivered a kick to his face, then picked up a branch and drove it deep into his heart. She watched in awe as the man disintegrated into little more than dust.

She threw down the branch then started running again, back toward her house. She ran through the still open front door, up to her sister's room. She didn't rush over to her right away. She just stood in the doorway, breathing hard, lungs burning. The moonlight shone through the window onto her sister's lifeless form. Her sister's curly blonde hair fanned out under her body. Her eyes were wide with shock. Finally Loren walked over to where her sister Violet lay. She knew that she was in shock because she could no longer feel the cuts on her body. She kneeled down and held her sister, stroking her hair. She felt the hot tears spilling down her cheeks. It all suddenly came crashing down around her ears. She screamed her frustration and grief, holding her sister, her only protector, as close to her body as she could. She sobbed as she rocked her back and forth.

She could hear someone calling her name in the distance. Someone shook her, telling her to wake up.

"Loren, wake up, you're having a nightmare!"

Loren snapped out of the dream quickly, still screaming. She lashed out at whoever was shaking her, pouncing on them. Wesley fell backward from the sudden attack. Loren realized what was happening and tried to stop him from falling, but she was off-balance and only managed to fall off the bed after him. They both crashed onto the carpet, taking the sheets with them. Loren landed on top of Wesley. Wesley stared up at her, eyes wide with surprise. Loren just stared back at him. Her heart was still pumping with adrenaline and her breathing was still heavy as if she had really been running. This close to Wesley she noticed how handsome he really was. His eyes were grayish-blue, the pupils rimmed with gold like her own. He had a day's worth of stubble on his face. She reached up a hand and ran it along that stubble, along his strong jaw, down along his adam's apple and further down to his perfect chest. He had just the right amount of chest hair. She leaned down and breathed in his scent, that seawater smell.

She moved up to kiss his neck, then kissed all the way up to his jaw, finally coming to land a kiss on his soft lips. Wesley grabbed a hold of her while she kissed him and kissed her back, deeply. His hands moved up her back, raising goosebumps along her pale skin. He moved his hands further up and let her hair free from the ponytail. Her wavy hair came cascading down around his face, and he enjoyed the silken feel of her brunette locks. They broke away from the kiss, taking time to look at each other. Loren could feel him pressed against her, hard and ready, but she took her time with him. She reached down and finished unbuttoning his shirt, slowly. When this was done she worked her way down to his pants. She undid his belt, and as she did so she brushed her hair over his erection. He moaned softly and gave her a look that was all male.

That look caused her to move more quickly. She could see the want in his eyes. She wanted him too. It had been a long time since she had been with a man, especially one with whom she felt a connection like she felt with Wesley. He lifted his hips to help her slide his pants off. He wasn't wearing any underwear, so his erect member was freed from its cloth prison. It pressed up against his body, ready and willing. Loren let herself stare at his naked form for a moment. His body wasn't overly muscular, but well toned. He was almost perfect, save for various battle scars, and what appeared to be a gunshot wound in his lower right torso. His cock was perfect, circumcised, swollen with need. Loren stood up and reached down to Wesley, nodding her head toward the bed. He took her hand and got up.

Loren backed away to the bed, falling onto her back. Wesley followed her. He did not move to enter her yet, but bent down and kissed a line from her neck down to her taught nipple. Loren moaned into his ear as his tongue worked over her nipple, his hand squeezing as his tongue worked. Her moaning encouraged and thrilled him, making his cock that much harder. He pressed the front of his body against hers, not entering her, just pressing his hot flesh against hers.

Loren moved her hand down to touch his sensitive flesh, taking him into her hand. She squeezed gently, causing him to take in a sharp breath. He moved his hand from her breast and down to the corresponding spot on her body. His fingers found her most vulnerable point swollen and throbbing with need. He rubbed a circle on that spot and Loren had to fight not to cry out. She grabbed the sheets with her free hand and balled them up in her fist but it wasn't enough. As Wesley continued to pleasure her, she placed a kiss on his neck, but that kiss quickly turned into a bite. She had to bite down to keep herself from screaming in pleasure. She knew she had bit too hard when she tasted the bitter metallic sting of blood. Wesley gasped in pleasure. He looked down and saw blood on Loren's lips. He bowed down and kissed her fiercely, tasting his own blood on her lips.

Loren kissed Wesley as deeply as possible, exploring every possible inch of his mouth with her tongue. She could still feel him pressed hard, so hard against the front of her body. Loren decided that she couldn't take it any longer. She needed him inside her now. She ground her hips into him, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Please Wesley. Please, please, please." She said please over and over until he finally drove himself completely into her as if he'd burst through to the other side. He hadn't taken the time to work his way into her slowly, to make room, so that first violent thrust drew a small scream from deep inside Loren. After that first plunge, Wesley slowed, his body moving to the beat of his heart. At first they seemed to be out of rhythm, but as they made love their rhythms melded into a single heartbeat. Loren felt connected to the entire earth, as if the hearts of every living human were beating in her chest. She could feel Wesley's heart beating against her chest, its steady rhythm deciding the movement of their bodies. He was so much taller than her that when they finally came together, his heart hovered just over her face. She kissed where she knew that heartbeat was, placed her hand over it. She could feel the orgasm beginning to rise within her, starting in her stomach and radiating out, making her toes tingle. She continued to rock with Wesley, still moving in unison. She whispered his name into his chest, her nails digging into his back. She knew that there would be blood there too. She looked up at Wesley and called his name. He looked down at her just in time for the orgasm to hit. Wesley and Loren came together, both screaming the other's name. They rode the wave of pleasure until it left them cold, sticky and naked on Wesley's bed. They just lay there looking at each other for a moment, then Loren started to laugh. Her laughter was the purest, most joyous sound Wesley had ever heard and he reflected that laughter back at Loren. She reached up and took his face into her hands, then kissed him gently, sincerely. Her pale skin shone the way skin only can after sex.

Wesley pulled himself free of Loren; he was warm and sticky from the emission of his bodily fluids into Loren. He rolled over onto his right side, then looked at Loren, mischief gleaming in his blue eyes. "I think we might need to clean up a bit."

"I agree." Loren almost seemed to purr as she spoke. She got up from the bed, legs still a little wobbly. She and Wesley both went into the bathroom to take a shower. They made love again in the shower, then played while they cleaned each other off. Loren found a hair dryer and dried her hair before going back to bed.

When she was done she walked back to Wesley's room, still naked. Wesley was lying in his bed and had put new sheets on. Loren stood at the door and asked playfully, "Is there room in there for me?" Wesley swept the comforter aside and patted the bare spot next to him. Loren walked over and climbed into the clean bed. She scooted over next to Wesley who leaned over and turned out the light. Wesley was turned toward her, sleeping on his left side. She was facing him, her face buried into his chest. She sighed happily, snuggling against his warm, naked body. He held Loren close in his arms and stroked her silky brown hair as they both drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

It had been two months since Loren and Wesley's worlds had collided. Since then they had been almost inseparable. She had been living with him since she arrived, not having anywhere else to go. They often went out on assignments together, and Loren would stay up late and help Wesley comb through his ancient volumes to dig up info on the latest demon threat. Loren had proven herself a great ally and friend, her Slayer skills leading to much greater success when it came time to fight. She was skilled with almost any weapon, especially swords. She and Angel sparred often, sharing an enthusiasm for broad swords. But her eyes were only for Wesley.

Angel would often stand and watch the two of them as they burned the midnight oil in his office. He saw the way they looked at each other, the same way he knew that he and Buffy acted. But she was nothing like Buffy. To begin with, she was much smarter, almost as smart as Wesley or Fred. She was as warm and kind as Buffy, but she had a cold edge that told Angel that if it was necessary, she would sacrifice a member of the team for the greater good. But this didn't mean she wasn't loyal. She would gladly give her own life in order to stamp out evil, certainly before she would give the life of another. He stood watching her and Wesley now, both bent over a large leather-bound book, trying to identify the demon that had been featured in Cordelia's latest vision. She straightened up and rubbed her eyes, obviously tired, eyes strained from staring at the small print. With his vampire senses Angel could hear Wesley tell Loren to go ahead and go home. She consented, taking his car keys from him and kissing him. She placed her hand on the right side of his face, stroking it as she pulled away from the kiss. She then turned and headed out the door.

Angel had gone over to the hotel desk and made it look like he had just come down for something. Loren glanced over at him as she walked and asked, "How long were you watching us?"

Angel just stood there with his mouth open. He was sure she hadn't looked and seen him. He stammered, "Wha…how?"

"Slayer remember. I get all sick when vamps are around, even the good ones. Or maybe it was just the Chinese food we had for lunch. I've been sick all day."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's OK. That's what I get for eating greasy Chinese food."

Angel laughed and told her to drive safe. She walked out the hotel door and over to where Wesley had parked his Jeep. She put the keys in the ignition and started the car, backed out, and drove towards home. The drive didn't take long. It was early fall and the Los Angeles air was warm. She rode home with the windows down, tuning her Slayer ears to try and listen for any signs of evil activity.

Everything was relatively quiet on the demon front, save for Cordy's latest vision. Gunn and Fred had gone out to see what was going on with that situation. They had returned covered in some fairly disgusting yellow goop. The sight of it had make Loren sick and she had had to lie down for a while. She blamed the sickness on the Chinese food, and how close she was to Angel. But Loren was afraid that something else entirely could be causing her feelings of sickness and fatigue, so she had stopped to purchase a pregnancy test from the drugstore on the way home. She didn't exactly know how she felt about how the results may be. She and Wesley had only know each other for two months, though she was sure that she loved him, and that he felt the same way about her. She didn't know if she had fallen in love with him yet, but she wasn't quite sure that she cared. All she knew was that for almost her entire life she had been miserable, abused. When her father died, he had left her and her sister with their bitch of stepmother. Her sister had suffered just as much abuse as she had, maybe even more. When her sister had been killed she lost the only person she had left that could protect her.

Shortly after that the Watcher's Council managed to catch up with her, train her, enable her to fight the kind of monsters that had taken her sister from her. They had sent her, on her own, to L.A. They had set her free in a sense. L.A. was where the work needed to be done. So here she was, doing the good work. Wesley made her feel safe again, something she hadn't felt since she was very young. When they were lying in bed together, warm and safe, peace filled her heart and mind. She no longer suffered from the vivid nightmares of her past. Now the only dreams she had were the dreams given to all Slayers.

Loren parked the Jeep and carried her bags into the building, pulled out her apartment key, and unlocked the door. The smell always hit her first. The apartment smelled like him, that fresh seawater smell. For Loren, all men had a distinct smell. Wesley's was seawater, Gunn's was balsam, and Angel's was vanilla. It was easier to pick out a smell for men because they tended not to wear as much perfume and things and women did. Cordy and Fred always smelled like perfume. Lorne smelled different entirely, some smell from his native Pylea.

Lorne was Loren's favorite among the gang. He was always sweet to her and ready with a complement. She had sung for him a few weeks after she met up with everyone. He had seen the pain and abuse that she had suffered, and he had cried when she was finished. Lorne could identify with her feelings of never belonging, of being an outcast, hated by your family. They had become fast friends, often hanging out together when they were all at the club. He called her his "painted magnolia" on account of her tattoos and southern roots.

Loren took her shoes off and squeezed the carpet with her toes. The air conditioning was on full blast, and the air was freezing. She walked over to the thermostat and turned the air down a bit. She walked over to the coffee table and set her bags down. She took the bag from the drugstore and walked into the bathroom. She set the bag down on the counter and took out the test.

Questions ran through her mind. What would she do if the test was positive? How would Wesley react if she were pregnant? Could she even consider raising a child with the type of work she did? Loren closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Butterflies raged in her stomach. Dizziness swept over her as she thought about her possible future. She had to steady herself by gripping the countertop. She took out a washcloth and ran it under some cold water, then washed her face vigorously.

When she looked into the mirror her face was pink from the scrubbing. She decided that it was time to face the music. She wanted to get the test over with before Wesley got home. She went through all the motions necessary in order to take the test. It took about three minutes to finish, so she decided to leave the room. She paced outside the bathroom door, shaking with nerves. She muttered to herself as she walked back and forth. In the midst of her nervous pacing, she had failed to hear the door click open as Wesley walked into the apartment.

TO BE CONTINUED

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