"First of all, I should explain that the statue" Angel nodded at the photograph in Buffy's hand "has been missing for two days. It's kept in the library at Sunnydale."

"Sunnydale?" Buffy inquired.

"My family home. My father had a strange sense of humour," Angel added by way of explanation. "The statue is kept on a pedestal, with a protective glass case over it. There isn't a great deal of security in the library itself, but we have quite a lot for the house and grounds in general."

Buffy felt an inner alarm start to tingle in response to the last comment, but restrained herself and said "Tell me more about the statue."

"It's about a foot tall, made of Italian marble, and roughly four hundred years old. No one's sure who actually made it, but guesses range from Michelangelo to an architect dabbling in sculpture. It's called the Fallen Angel."

Buffy couldn't stop herself wondering if he was talking about the statue or it's owner, because Angel Roarke looked exactly like how she envisioned a fallen angel. Thick black hair, a little longer and spikier on top than fashionable and lacking the smooth, moulded look currently in vogue, but it suited him. Brown eyes the exact shade of her favourite chocolate, with skin almost the shade of the marble statue he was describing. Prominent high cheekbones, firm chin and a smile that lit up his face-and also gave her a lot of very unprofessional thoughts.

To stop those unprofessional thoughts, she studied the picture, really taking it in this time.

The statue was of a man and woman locked into an intimate embrace. The man-or rather the angel, because he had wings-was on his knees, legs spread for balance, as the woman wrapped her legs around his waist. Her left arm was around his shoulders, her right hand running through the angel's hair as she looked into his eyes. The woman's flowing, waist length mane of hair did nothing to disguise the fact that both she and her heavenly lover were naked, and it was obvious that their bodies had just joined.

The sculpture was both extremely erotic and vaguely disturbing, and Buffy wasn't sure which emotion made her shift in her seat, feeling Angel's gaze on her face as she tried to work out just what was bothering her.

As she examined the angel, she saw that his expression was rapturous, but beneath it was a lurking dread. The angel's wings were outspread-probably to help the balance of the sculpture-but the pose only served to illuminate the empty spaces in the expanse of feathers, as the wings had started to moult. She searched for something appropriate to say, and settled on "Interesting."

"Isn't it?" Angel replied. Looking at her face, he knew that Buffy found the statue, even in a photograph, every bit as sensual and menacing as he did, and his fascination with her grew. He asked "Up on your Bible stories?"

"No. I take it that's what the statue is based on?"

Angel nodded and continued "Back in the earliest times of the world, God hand-picked five of his most trusted angels to observe and safeguard mankind, called the Watchers. Five angels who fell from grace and wreaked havoc, by mating with the very same women they were supposed to protect. This sculpture is supposed to portray the last angel, and the act that caused him to Fall."

"So I see-pretty good object lesson on the perils of falling in love with the wrong person" Buffy replied, thinking that she should take that lesson to heart.

"Indeed" Angel replied, then kept his face carefully blank as Buffy looked at him, curious about the memory that coloured his voice.

She looked at him appraisingly and asked, "You think that it's an inside job, don't you?"

Angel closed his eyes and nodded once. "I don't think that it is an inside job, but I'm afraid that it couldn't be anything else but." He opened his eyes and asked abruptly "Benjy said that you know a great deal about art, is that true?"

"Yes, my mother owned an art gallery."

"Good. You'll need to be on the premises, so I'll tell my family and the staff that you're an art expert come to appraise the collection. I'll expect you tomorrow, at nine."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, and snapped back "Nine thirty." Something told her he was far too used to people jumping at his orders-especially women. Buffy didn't jump for anyone. Angel smiled again, and Buffy felt her stomach go whoomp! once more, even harder this time because of the appreciation in his eyes.

"Nine thirty then. Do you need directions to Sunnydale?"

Buffy shook her head, then stood and walked him to the door, telling herself it was just a courtesy to a client, and had nothing to do with wanting to know how her stride compared to his.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning" Buffy said, and offered him her hand to shake. Angel took it, then lifted it to his lips and kissed the back.

When his lips touched her skin for the first time, Angel felt heat rush through his veins like lava, and his skin prickled. He could tell from the way her eyes darkened, and her face flushed ever so faintly, that she was just as affected. He felt his whole body tighten in anticipation of feeling his lips on hers, and smiled.

"I look forward to it" Angel told Buffy. In more ways than one. He turned and left, smiling as he walked. After he left, Buffy shut the door firmly-she did not slam it-and leaned against it. She reminded herself of all the excellent reasons why she never got personally involved with anyone she met through work and she was not, dammit, going to give in to a man who most probably had a different woman every night.

Funny how her body wasn't listening, though.

Go on to Part Three.

FEEDBACK!

Go here for more of Lady Raven's stories.