Part One:  Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Part Two:  I Know You’re Out There Somewhere

Part Three:  The Plan - The Really, Really Bad Plan...Whose Plan Was This, Anyway? ~ Part Four:  That There Fight

Part Five:  Faith, Riley, and Videotape - EWWW! She Taped This? My Eyes! Quick, Burn It!

Part Six:  Never Speak of it - Ever!

Part Seven:  It Was Your Plan, Buffy...or How Angel Punished Buffy for Sleeping with Riley

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Riley Bashing Series

Written by Christine

 

 

 

 

Part One:

Someone to Watch Over Me

 

 

Riley Finn held the crackling radio closer to his ear, trying to make out what the shouting was all about. In the end, it didn't matter. Whether or not he was a part of the team any longer, a part of the military, he had to help. It was just something he had to do, something he'd not only trained for but was.

 

Grabbing his gun, clipping the radio to his belt as he raced out of his little sewer hideaway, he went to help. It was, after all, what he did. He helped - whether or not he was on the run from the army or not. He helped humans. He captured demons. He made the world, or this tiny corner of it that seemed more dangerous than anything should, a little safer.

 

Besides, Buffy would. She'd go and help no matter who was after her, and plenty were. From what he'd been able to gather in the few months he'd known her, every demon, a good many humans who made their living in the demonic world, and several students at UC Sunnydale wanted her dead.

 

That could've been jealousy, however, though he wasn't sure what that jealousy was about. He'd heard whispers, but nothing conclusive. And Buffy certainly wasn't talking.

 

There was more he was missing, but she kept him in the dark about her life, no matter that he shared in that life these last months. She was keeping something from him - about the demons she fought, about the world she inhabited. Ruled, some of the HSTs said.

 

The Slayer ruled the night. She was the night, they insisted, laughing at him and the other humans who captured them. She was more than they knew, and if they thought to keep her locked away in this lab with them, then they were sorely mistaken. That no one would tolerate.

 

Yes, he was missing something about Buffy, but had no idea what it could possibly be. No one would tolerate that? No one meaning the demons? Or no one meaning her group, the humans who helped her?

 

Of course, Xander's little revelation about sex and Angel and his soul might have totally thrown him.

 

Racing down the street, grateful to the army for increasing his stamina - Buffy had few complaints about it - Riley rounded the corner just as the last of the team hit the wall and fell unconscious. Raising his flashlight into the eyes of the thing that had done this, for no human could've taken any of the Initiative's teams Riley was certain, he waited for it to attack.

 

"Riley Finn," the thing said, voice low and harsh, a slight smirk playing around the corners of its mouth. For an HST, it wasn't bad looking, certainly more human than some of the demon things he'd seen, but that meant one thing.

 

Vampire.

 

"I know you?" he demanded, certain no demon, vampire or not, knew him by name. Spike didn't count, apparently.

 

"We have a friend in common." The thing growled, stalking closer in a slow and graceful way that hinted at repressed strength. Contained anger. And a cunning and fluidity he'd seen in few of the vampires he and his team captured. Again, Spike being the exception, a disturbing frequency Riley resented.

 

"Angel." So this was Angel. Riley was taller. Broader in the shoulders…well, maybe taller. And better looking, yeah, he was sure he was better looking. More importantly, Riley was human. Mucho points for that.

 

"My reputation precedes me," he chuckled, stopping a few feet from where Riley stood. "Welcoming committee your idea?"

 

No, but if he had known, Riley would've sent more men. To attack and kill Angel. Fuck this capture bull. He wanted Angel dead.

 

"Way I heard it," Riley advanced a swaggering step forward, jealously flaring in his eyes, in his voice. "You were all peaceable now. You didn't by any chance go and lose that pesky soul again, did you?"

 

Angel growled, flashed his fangs at the boy. "Don't push me, boy."

 

Rage colored his vision, and Riley knew he'd just been challenged. For dominance. For Buffy. It was one challenge he wasn't going to lose. Not to this piece of shit dead thing. Not to Angel. Or the evil Angel, it seemed. Buffy had slept with the undead bastard. She'd slept with him...damn her. And damn him for not realizing that vampires had such holds on their victims.

 

"Now what possibly could've happened with Buffy that would make you lose your soul?"

 

Angel was circling him now, stalking him as a predator would his prey. Prey, yes that was it. Well, tough. Riley was alpha here, hadn't he proven that more than once? Hadn't he shown Buffy just that? Shown the demons in this town? And he wasn't going to lose that position to a vampire. An undead HST who was so far below humans, they weren't on the same damn scale.

 

"That'd be between me and her, now, wouldn't it."

 

Releasing his baton, Riley picked up the challenge as Angel started to move away, move out of the alley and towards, no doubt, Buffy. This was one fight he wasn't losing. "Where do you think you're going?

 

"Going to see an old girlfriend." The words were cocky, smug. Sure of himself in this dark alley where Buffy would never have to know Riley'd killed her ex. Where Buffy would never have to know Angel was even in the same town as she. Yes, if he killed Angel, then Buffy would be his alone, and Riley could and would deny all knowledge.

 

"Oh, you really think I'm gonna let that happen?"

 

He had the nerve to laugh, to mock. His glare was mean, his stance relaxed as if Riley presented no threat. "You think you're gonna stop me?"

 

"I surely do."

 

Angel laughed again and punched Riley. Deflecting the direct aim, Riley whipped the baton in Angel's face, backhanding him in a smooth move. But Angel caught the arm, twisted, bent it in an unnatural direction, and Riley went down on one knee.

 

Maybe not as easy as he'd originally thought.

 

Several minutes later, Riley was thinking that if he could make it out of this alley alive, he might be happy. Still, honor was at stake. Honor and pride.

 

Because damn, even the electric shock did nothing to the damn demon. No, all Angel did was growl at him, in full demon face, and attack harder. Fuck. Riley tumbled to the ground, but Angel yanked him back up, sending him flying to the other side of the alley.  A large pile of heavy metal cylinders broke his fall none too gently.

 

Pain shot out in all directions as he fell to the ground. Forcing limbs stiff with hurt to move, Riley stood just as the headlights of an Initiative vehicle rounded the corner. Angel was nowhere to be found.

 

But he knew exactly where the demon was headed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

She was already inside. And she was hurt. A low rumble echoed throughout the hallway of her dorm as Angel knocked on the door.

 

"Angel," she sighed as he walked in. Shutting the door, she let him wrap his arms around her. Let him hold her close. Let the tension of the past weeks fade away.

 

Pulling away, she leaned up for a kiss, letting the passion that was always between them warm her from the inside out. Shivering when he pulled away, Buffy rested her head once more on his chest. It was silent, but she didn't care; knew the intimate workings of his body as well as her own. Better.

 

Looking back up at him, she frowned. "You're hurt."

 

Angel cupped her face in his hands, thumb grazing the dried blood. "You too." He kissed the cut, closing the barely seeping wound. "What happened?"

 

"Big bad of the year. Nothing much."

 

"Adam did this to you?" his voice was a snarl. Angry, ready to tear the thing apart slowly and repeatedly.

 

She smiled, but shrugged. "I'll live." Her hand grazed his own cut, almost mirroring hers. "You want to tell me who ran your face into that doorknob?"

 

"Not really. It's not world-in-peril stuff. And it's not why I'm here."

 

She caught the note of urgency in his voice, and stopped what she'd been about to say. Their latest charade. Faith, LA, cops, it didn't matter. Not when her lover was obviously in a rush. Why the hell was he in such a rush?

 

"What's going on? What's wrong?"

 

Just then, the door burst open to reveal a slightly psychotic Riley holding his service gun. Well, Buffy thought, staring dumbly at the scene as Angel pushed her behind him, blocking her. Protecting her. This wasn't how their reunion was supposed to go. Riley was supposed to be in some damn sewer, waiting for her to contact him about their next meeting at Giles'. He wasn't supposed to be here!

 

"I told you," Riley said as he leaned against Willow's desk. "You weren't coming near her."

 

Buffy looked at him, really looked, and snorted. He looked awful. How he was standing, she wasn't sure. Pity. She could've had her reunion then. Still, she had a part to play. Damn her. And Cordelia. And Giles. And Angel himself for this! 

 

"You've got to be kidding me." Buffy looked away from Riley, staring at Angel. He knew the role, too. "This is why you came?"

 

"No." Of course it wasn't why he'd come. Maybe he should've made sure the boy was dead. Er, unconscious at least. "This was accident." Maybe leaving him alive was an accident...

 

Pissed, though she wasn't sure at whom she was angrier, Buffy huffed, "Running a car into a tree is an accident!  Running your fist into somebody's face is a plan!  Please, explain this to me!"

 

Angel didn't answer, but did look at Riley. He was unstable. Unsteady on his feet and clearly not thinking straight. A bullet wouldn't hurt him, but could hurt Buffy. And that was something Angel wasn't willing to take a chance on.

 

"Put that gun down," he said calmly.

 

"It's pretty much all I got left, so I'm thinking not." Idiot. Like a bullet would hurt him. Not looking away from Angel, Riley continued. "He attacked four of my men, Buffy.  I think he's up to his old tricks."

 

"He won't hurt anybody." Old tricks? What the hell was Riley talking about? What old tricks?

 

Buffy shook her head. Paused at that last statement and wondered how to explain to her 'boyfriend' that Angel, her lover, wouldn't hurt anyone unless they were a threat - direct or indirect - to her. Or them...Riley wasn't a threat to them, but the fact that she'd slept with him for months now wore on Angel's patience. And jealousy.

 

It wasn't doing much for her, either. Was he sure this was her idea? She blamed Giles. Or maybe Doyle. Possibly Spike. Yes, blame it on Spike.

 

"Tell him," she said instead to Angel.

 

But all Angel did was move forward. Threateningly and steadily. Stalking Riley. Intimidating him. Showing him who was alpha, who was not. "Might hurt you."

 

Taking his own step forward, Riley nodded. "Please try."

 

Angel laughed, folded his arms across his chest. "Heh. Some threat. You can barely stand...boy."

 

Waving the gun as if he were some kind of gunfighter, Riley sneered, "Trigger finger feels okay."

 

Keeping an eye on the boy who thought to take his place, Angel asked Buffy, "You actually sleep with this guy?"

 

Buffy winced, but said nothing. He was supposed to play along. He was supposed to be jealous. He was. Jealous that was. Insanely so, and everyone knew it. It was why, or one of the reasons, she'd gone to LA. To smooth things over with him. To fight it out - again - and to make up. Again. To show him who she loved, and who she did not. Who she needed.

 

Taking advantage of Angel's distraction, Riley used the opportunity to punch the vampire. He missed Buffy's hurt look. He missed Angel's eyes as they expressed their love and apology. He missed the entire transaction as he focused all his hatred on Angel. The demon who was no better than an animal. Worse, lower.

 

Angel hit him back, instantly as if he was only waiting for such an opportunity.

 

"Okay, stop it!" Buffy moved between them, shoving them apart. Riley slammed into Willow's desk - she'd have to explain later, but somehow Buffy knew her best friend would understand the mess her side of the room was now in. Angel landed on Willow's bed, smirking at the display from his fiery lover.

 

"Okay, that's enough! I see one more display of testosterone poisoning, and I will personally put you both in the hospital!" Looking back and forth between them, she glared at Angel when he looked like he wanted to laugh. Riley, however, looked like he still wanted to shoot Angel.

 

Oh, perfect.

 

"Anybody think I'm exaggerating?"

 

"He started it-" Angel began in a reasonable voice.

 

But Buffy held up a warning finger, and, with a last wink at her, he wisely shut up. But couldn't help the growl when she walked over to Riley. Spoke to him in a quiet and calm voice. Acted like she was in love with him. Acted like she didn't care Angel was there. His demon flashed quickly, angrily, but Riley didn't notice. He was totally focused on Buffy.

 

Bastard. Riley was so dead. 

 

"Riley," she began, glancing at his gun which he immediately put away.

 

"I'm sorry. Just wanted to know that you were safe."

 

Buffy ignored that. Like she couldn't take care of herself. "I need to talk to Angel for a minute."

 

That caught him off guard. Good. "What?"

 

"Riley, please."

 

Angel suppressed another growl at Buffy begging this boy for his permission to speak with her own lover. Her mate. The only person she begged was him. Ever. And she would, later tonight.

 

Carefully schooling his features as Riley looked at him, Angel continued to sit on the bed, elbows resting on his knees. The perfect picture of contrite innocence. Looking down at Buffy again, Riley said in a firm voice, "I'm not leaving this room." Crossing his arms, he nodded once in affirmation. "I mean it."

 

As Riley continued to glare at Angel, Buffy, exasperated, looked over her shoulder and gave Angel a slight tilt of her head, smiling at him, winking as she did so. Without another word, she walked past Riley to the door. Out the door. Not bothering to hide the smirk, Angel stood up, following her. 

 

Alone, Riley repeated as the door closed with a decisive click ."Not moving a muscle."

 

In the empty hall, Buffy turned on Angel. And leapt into his waiting arms. "God, I'm sorry."

 

"No, don't be, beloved. It's my fault."

 

"Let me guess," she whispered, lips just touching his. "You taunted and mocked. Made him angry."

 

"I should've killed him." Angel growled, crushing her lips with his, tasting the boy on her. But he felt her shudder, felt her need. Knew Riley could never hope to satisfy her, knew the ache deep within her could only be assuaged by him.

 

"I don't want to do this anymore," she admitted, forehead against his. "I don't think I can. It's so hard. So hard to keep up the pretense. God, Angel, I'm sorry I ever came up with this stupid plan." She pulled back, offered a tiny smile. "I blame Spike."

 

He snorted, though he was hurt and jealous at the entire idea. How had he let her talk him into this? Oh. Right. Sex. Damn. Incredibly hot sex with his incredibly hot lover. He was weak when it came to her. Always had been. Knew he always would be.

 

"I think we should fight," Angel whispered against her lips. But his hands said otherwise as they cupped her ass, grinding her against him. Felt her arousal, scented it. "I love you."

 

"Love you, too," she whispered, kissing him again. Pulling back in shock, she parroted, "Fight?"

 

"He's listening."

 

"Damn." She rested her forehead against the crock of his neck for a moment. Breathed in his scent, his love, comfort. Not understanding, but love and comfort. Support. "God, I'm tired."

 

"I know, beloved. Just a little longer. Adam is a ridiculous idea, but with the Council possibly in on this, and several governments funding him, we need to destroy it."

 

"I coulda done that without Riley."

 

"Yes, and I believe I mentioned that. Several times." Buffy pouted and nodded in agreement with his irritated words.

 

"I didn't think it'd be this long. Or this hard. I didn't think," she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. Angel caught it, as he always did, kissing it away. "That I'd have to sleep with him."

 

A shudder of revulsion went through her. She hadn't told Angel about the night in the frat house with the ghost, or how they'd had sex for hours. He didn't need to know that. She'd sworn everyone to silence upon penalty of dismemberment, evisceration, and death. Anya had offered to find her a demon who could wipe her memory, but Buffy had, reluctantly, declined.

 

Just in case the memory-wipe wiped things she wanted to keep.

 

"But this way," he reminded her through a jealous growl that went straight through to her soul, "You had access to things you wouldn't have otherwise."

 

She leaned back, and for a moment Angel was struck by her sheer perfection. Her beauty. Her love for him. "I still hate it."

 

"Not nearly as much as I do." He kissed her again. "And trust me when I say, your punishment for this stupid, ridiculous plan will be long. Tell your mother you won't see her the rest of the summer."

 

Buffy shivered, clenched her legs tighter around his hips, bringing her wet heat closer to his hardness. "She hates the plan, too."

 

"Everyone hates the plan."

 

"Okay," she nodded, loosening her legs from his waist. "Fight."  She slid down his body with one last kiss. "I come to see you, to help you, and you treat me like I'm just...your ex."

 

"Well, technically-" Angel said, tweaking her nipple through the sweater.

 

"Shut up!" She batted his hand away, but Angel caught the heat flair in her eyes. His hand massaged her breast, fingers tugging on her nipples. Buffy's head dropped back, but she continued. A little breathless, but she continued. "You order me out of your city, and then you come here and start pounding on my boyfriend?"

 

Angel growled, grabbing her by the shoulders, shifted into his vampiric face. Undaunted, Buffy traced his features. "I would really like to know what the hell you are trying to do."

 

Angel kissed her again, letting her touch, her kiss sooth the rage. "I was trying to make things better."

 

Snorting at his line, Buffy pulled back. "Better?" She started to laugh. Angel, unable to resist the sound, joined in.

 

"You're so beautiful when you laugh," he whispered. Her eyes shone, and he realized how hard this was on her. Not just him, though he'd spent more than one evening. Morning. Week. Killing demonic beings just to work off his anger over the entire plan. Cordelia was ready to throttle him. Wesley wasn't far behind.

 

"Yeah, well..." Angel shook his head, vampire face dissolving as he relaxed. "It's, ah, it's going pretty good, don't you think?"

 

Leaning against him, Buffy giggled again. "Swell. That was such an awful line. We need to rehearse these things, I'm thinking."

 

"I miss you, love."

 

"I miss you, too. But it's almost over. Everything's falling apart. Willy says the demons are ready to fight this Adam-thing, though some are with him. Adam-him, not Willy-him. Most get that he wants to kill them and do icky Frankenstein-y stuff to them. So they're on our side."

 

"Good." Angel rested his cheek on her head, breathing in her scent. This was wearing on her, and he knew he wasn't helping. But between the farce of an act in LA and this, he needed to see her. Desperately needed to reassure both of them.

 

"He's still listening," Angel sighed, double checked the door was completely shut.

 

"And Riley?" Buffy asked like a good little actress.

 

"I got jumped by some soldiers," he answered honestly. Adding softly, "Like they could take me." He felt her smile, felt her relax in his arms. When this was over, they were going away. Cordelia had already book the trip - had, in fact, invited herself and Wesley along. Willow and Xander, not to be left behind, were coming, too. Which meant Tara and Anya were coming. Angel wisely agreed, knowing that after this charade, they all needed a break.

 

Though he still had issues with Spike tagging along.

 

Still, Angel booked his and Buffy's room in separate lodgings, six miles away. Large suite, nice balcony to overlook the moors, and soundproofing so that when he meted out her punishment for her plan, no one else could hear her delicious screams of passionate pain.

 

"Riley came in the fight in the middle." he shrugged. "I wasn't real forthcoming with the benefit of the doubt."

 

Buffy nodded, feeling herself start to drift. God, she was tired. Angel shook her awake.

 

"Not yet, love. Soon you can sleep. Or," he kissed her neck, fangs grazing her scar, "Other, more pleasurable things."

 

"You have to stop doing that," she grumbled, then louder, "Put yourself in his place."

 

"I get it," he shrugged, but didn't stop his homage to her neck.

 

"I need to get back in," Buffy sighed, but her neck arched into his mouth.

 

"Do whatever you have to do," Angel nodded. "I'll be back in three hours."

 

"Yes," she looked at him with wet eyes. Blinking once, the hard steel back in the beautiful hazel, she nodded. "I'll be waiting." Stepping back, breaking contact with him was the hardest move she ever had to do, Buffy's fingers still clung to his.

 

"I think the best thing you can do right now is leave."

 

"Okay." He kissed her again. "Later, lover."

 

"It means a lot that you came." She nodded, watched him walk to the door at the end of the hall. Slowly, their fingers still entwined.

 

He let go, turned to leave. Couldn't watch her eyes. Knew he had to make this up to her somehow. Doyle wouldn't want her to be put through this, not for his last vision. And yet, this was the only damned plan either of their teams could come up with to stop Adam and his apocalyptical army of hybrids.

 

And everyone knew how he'd tried to come up with another plan. One that didn't require his mate to sleep with someone else.

 

"Oh," he paused, turned with a wink. "And Riley?"

 

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. "Yeah?"

 

"I don't like him."

 

Buffy smiled at him. "Thank you."

 

"Until tonight, my love."

 

Moving to the door, Buffy slowly opened it. Steeling herself for the confrontation. For the news she had to bring. For the part she had to play.

 

And three hours later, once she'd convinced Riley to head to Giles, once she, in classic cryptic-Angel fashion, told Giles of Angel's visit and he immediately realized why he was forced to baby sit Riley - complete with stammering and eyeglass cleaning - she went back to her dorm room.

 

And waited for her lover.

 

"Willow's at Tara's for the night," Buffy smiled as Angel slipped into the room. "Quite the understanding roomie I have there."

 

"Yes," he whispered, gathering her in his arms. Looked at her in the light that shone from outside. "You look tired, my love."

 

"Long...year."

 

"Let me make you forget it, then." His voice was velvet promise, coaxing, pledging. "Close your eyes, Buffy."

 

Doing as he asked, Buffy felt herself laying on the bed. Her bed, their bed. She'd never let Riley stay over, always using Willow as her excuse for why she went to his frat house. This was her and Angel's bed, the bed he made her forget on, the bed he loved her on. Giving herself to Angel, Buffy felt once more.

 

She smelled like him. Like the boy. He was all over her, and Angel growled at the scent. He couldn't stand it, and almost hit her for it. Didn't. Couldn't.

 

Slowly undressing her, Angel took his time. Tasted her, teased her. Slowly making his way up one leg and down the other. Swirled his tongue around her belly, bit down hard with blunt teeth on her breasts. And never stopped his litany on the many things he loved about her. The many ways he loved her.

 

"Your breasts," he continued, kissing the areole, scrapping the nipple with his fangs, no longer able to hold back. "The scent of them when you're aroused. The way your nipples harden at my touch." He blew a breath of cold air on one, smiled. "At my voice."

 

Biting around the nipple, drawing a small mouthful of blood, Angel moved to her mouth. Kissing her, swallowing her cry of pleasure, he said, "Open your eyes, love. Look at me."

 

"Angel," Buffy sighed, wrapped her legs around his waist. Begged him to enter her. To complete her. "Please, Angel. Make me forget."

 

Thrusting into her welcoming body, Angel growled, "Never say his name in our bed."

 

"No," she shook her head, instinctively knowing that. Wondering why she had. Punishment for allowing her to follow through on this stupid plan? Buffy wasn't sure.

 

"God, baby," Angel said, stilling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

 

"Don't worry about it," she murmured, kissing him, rocking her hips against his. "I'm sorry, too."

 

"I'm never letting you out of my sight again," he vowed. Setting a steady pace, Angel moved his cold hand down her body, teased her curls with his fingers, flicked a nail over her clit.

 

"Angel!" she shouted, clamping around him as she shuddered through her climax.

 

Not finished with her, Angel drove her up again, watched her shatter around him, only to bring her to a third climax. Catching her cries, her shouts every time. Not wanting to share anything of her, not even that.

 

"I love you," he told her, fangs slipping into her neck, reopening the scar that marked her as his.

 

And this time, when she orgasmed around him, he followed her. Empting everything he was into her body. Complete. Whole.

 

"Sleep, love," he whispered, curling around her as Buffy clung to him. "I'll be here when you wake."

 

"Don't leave me," Buffy whispered. "I love you too much to let you go."

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

A week later...

 

"Damn," Buffy sighed as Angel helped her walk out of the bunker. Destruction lay around them. Bodies, limbs. Demons and humans. Adam almost had his way. Almost.

 

"I told you that spell was going to take a lot out of you," he scolded, ignoring her protests and sweeping her into his arms.

 

"It hasn't," Buffy admitted. "I just like it when you hold me."

 

Chuckling, he looked behind him. Cordelia and Anya were helping Willow, while Wesley and Xander were regulated to cleanup duty. Giles was bringing up the rear, Spike trailing behind him. Their demonic army scattered now that the battle was finished.

 

Tomorrow they'd go back to being enemies.

 

But that was for tomorrow.

 

"Buffy!" Riley called, racing up to her.

 

Angel growled at his approach, and Buffy tiredly lifted her head from his shoulder. "Shush," she whispered sleepily, lips grazing Angel's cheek.

 

"What's going on here?"

 

"We adverted the apocalypse," she mumbled. Maybe she was tired.

 

"Yup," Xander nodded, his voice not the usual peppy tone he used at the end of a big battle. Yeah, they were all beat. "Saved the world again. We should start keeping track, Buff," he told Buffy as he dumped a bowl in her lap just as he was about to drop it. Hey, if he had to carry everything, it was only fair she had to carry something. 

 

"But...what the hell is going on? Who are these people? And what the hell is he doing here...?" Riley trailed off, looking dazed and lost. Bloody, too, form the battle.

 

"Riley, Riley, Riley," Xander shook his head, grinning like a fool as Angel carried Buffy into the evening and everyone else gathered around. He'd won the bet, won the chance to tell Captain Cornball the truth. Spike had wanted to, had actually threatened his life. But fair and square, Xander won the bet.

 

"Buffy and Angel? Lovers. The forever kind of love. You think you could touch that?" He shook his head, but the mocking grin was unmistakable. "Now, while I personally don't like to think about what they do behind that heavy oak door separating them from the rest of the world, I do know they'll love each other until time ends."

 

"That failing," Willow chimed in, "The earth really is destroyed."

 

"Eternity collapses," Cordelia added, just for good measure.

 

"Hey!" Xander protested. "This is my win! You lost, you all lost!" he glared at Spike. "Spike."

 

"How was I to know the bloody ponce would cave?" Spike grumbled. The bet had been simple: Xander said Buffy could talk Angel into participating in the charade-from-hell, while Spike bet no. Absolutely not. Even if Angel was a ponce, no way would he let her shag Captain Pathetic.

 

There were grumbled sorrys, and Xander went back to his speech. "Now, as I was mocking. I can't believe everyone buys it! That the gypsies would be dumb enough to curse the most vicious vampire ever with a soul he could lose! Morons. But you have to admit" Shaking his head, Xander turned to walk away, the rest of the group wearily following him. "It's a great story."

 

"It's a true story," Willow reminded him.

 

"Well," Xander nodded as they walked into the night. "Yeah, great mojo, Will...you sure know how to resoul 'em."

 

Riley stared in shock. Wondering just what the hell had happened. This wasn't the ending he'd envisioned.

 

"When's our flight, Seer?" Spike asked as Cordelia shuffled the book she was carrying.

 

"Six o'clock day after tomorrow. Wanted to make sure we killed the big bad before we left to party his death. Everyone packed?"

 

There were quick agreements, though poor Joyce had done most of the packing while everyone else planned for this battle. She was meeting them for a week later in the summer as part of the packing deal.

 

"Oh, and Riley?" Giles looked back at the boy. "No one really liked you."

 

The next day, Riley was dead. Angel denied all knowledge, but Xander and Spike knew the truth. There was no way in hell a vampire as possessive and protective as Angel was, was going to let someone who'd touched his mate get away with it and live.

 

"Polgara demon," Angel said simply, despite the fact that in no way did Riley's death resemble that of a Polgara demon's methods. More like that of a vampire's. In fact, when word spread about his death, it was said that there wasn't a drop of blood left in him. He was shriveled up, not at all like a normal vamp attack where there's still blood in the body, but not enough to sustain life.

 

Angel had, of course, drained everything in Riley. Everything that smelled, tasted, or felt like Buffy was no longer in the boy, but once again Angel's. Solely, completely Angel's.

 

Two days after that, Buffy was screaming Angel's name as he reclaimed her in their monstrous bed in their castle room. They fought, screamed, and argued over the 'plan' and their roles in it. They shouted their venom, Angel over Riley touching Buffy, and Buffy over the fact that he had. Then, as Buffy cried in his arms, Angel apologized.

 

"I'll never let you go," he vowed. "I swear, beloved. You're mine, and I'm never letting you go."

 

All trace of Riley was gone; his scent, his name, everything. All that remained was Angel. And when they finally toured Ireland, three weeks after landing, Riley was a dim memory never to be mentioned again.

 

~FINIS~

 

 

 

 

Part Two

I Know You’re Out There Somewhere

 

"Where's Angel?"

 

"Lurking." Cordelia replied without looking up from her magazine.

 

Wesley looked around their office as if trying to spot Angel in a corner or shadowed crevice.

 

"Not here," Cordelia snorted, flipping the page and leaning back in her chair, all without looking at Wesley.

 

"No, of course not here." Wesley gave a little laugh at such a thought, and now Cordelia did look up. To give him a scathing look.

 

"No, of course not here," she mimicked in a really bad British accent. Sighing, she put her magazine down and stretched. "He's in Sunnydale. Where he's been for the past two weeks. Lurking."

 

"Yes, about that. Can you tell me anything more on Doyle's last vision?" Wesley inquired, sitting down, prepared to add to his already extensive, if not very informative, notes.

 

"Big bad. Big ugly bad," Cordelia corrected herself. "Big ugly bad with bad skin and a poky thing in his arm."

 

"Right or left?"

 

"I don't know," she said slowly. "It wasn't my vision, Doyle didn't say before he decided to be the big stupid hero and get himself killed, and the Powers," she shouted the word, and glared at the ceiling, "Haven't seen fit to send any more information on the matter."

 

"Quite right," Wesley agreed. "But I'm sure they have a reason for that."

 

"Yes, I'm sure it's a wonderful reason. Please, oh wise one. Tell us what that could possibly be."

 

"Erm," Wesley fumbled. "Well, I'm sure they have a reason."

 

Snorting, Cordelia poured herself a glass of water. "I hope Angel calls soon. I want to know what he's found out."

 

"About the big ugly bad?" Wesley inquired. "Or about Buffy?"

 

"Buffy, of course. Damn, I wish I could see her face when she realizes he's lurking again."

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"What are you doing, Buffy?" Willow asked as her roommate went to their window again and looked out. Again. She'd been doing that a lot lately, the past week or so since returning from LA and her visit with Angel. Peering out the window as if she knew something was there. Or someone.

 

"Nothing." She replied, as she always did. Grabbing her stake and a lightweight jacket, she added, "I'm going to patrol. I'll be back later."

 

Before Willow could say anything on Buffy's abrupt exit, she was gone. "Curiouser and curiouser," she mumbled.

 

Buffy led him to the edge of campus, past the main buildings, the administration ones, and the rest of the dorms. Past the frat houses where she'd met and killed that stupid snake. Considering her experience there, it was a wonder she'd gone to that party with Parker-the-poophead. Second mark on the 'stay away from fraternities' list. She really should learn her lesson.

 

Stopping once the coast was clear, once she was certain no one lingered nearby, Buffy slipped the stake into her pocket, and prepared herself. "I know you're out there."

 

"I wasn't trying to disturb you."

 

"We had this conversation already, Angel." She sighed, the anger she knew she should probably feel nowhere to be found. He always did that to her. Damn him. "You don't have to do anything. I just know where you are."

 

"I..." he trailed off, and she turned to look at him, really see him for the first time since their none-too-pleasant encounter twelve days ago. Not that she was counting.

 

He looked tired. Weary. Worn down. Instant sympathy moved through her, followed by panic. Something was wrong. Closing the distance between them, Buffy took his hand in hers, squeezed the comforting coolness in support.

 

"What is it? What's wrong?"

 

"Doyle's dead." Before she had the chance to ask the questions - how, when, where, who - he continued. "Died trying to save a bunch of half-breeds the Scourge wanted to destroy. Trying to cleanse the demon population of human contamination."

 

Wrinkling her nose Buffy offered, "Ugh, swell. But I'm sorry. I know you were close."

 

"Thanks." He nodded, twined his fingers with hers in an automatic gesture, then seemed to realize what he'd just done, and released her hand. Caught the hurt look in her eyes and wanted to hold her until it was replaced with nothing but love.

 

"But that's not why I came."

 

"Not why you've been hiding in the shadows for days now?" Buffy asked, stepping back from him. Too close. She was too close to him. "Not why you've pulled the 'I can't see you but you can see me' routing again?"

 

"Uh, no."

 

"No what?"

 

"No, that's not what I'm trying to do." Clearing his throat, he imparted the information she'd waited days to hear. And apparently, he'd waited days to tell. "Doyle's last vision...it was about you."

 

Narrowing her eyes, not exactly what she'd thought he was going to tell her, Buffy asked, "Wasn't that what the first vision was all about? Me. He saw me in danger; you flew to the stalking rescue, and never bothered to tell me?"

 

Caught, Angel nodded. "Something like that. Apparently, however, the Shumash wasn't the danger."

 

"He was when he turned into that stupid bear." Buffy grumbled.

 

Smiling, Angel offered a small laugh. "Yeah. How'd that happen, anyway?"

 

"Knife. Magick. Spike...I don't know. But I'm sure," she nodded with conviction, "Spike had something to do with it."

 

Chuckling in agreement Angel agreed. "That's usually the case. Doyle's vision..." his voice caught on his friend's name, and Buffy took his hand again.

 

It was partly an excuse to touch him, God she missed his touch. But it was also in sympathy. It was hard losing someone you cared for. Considered a friend. Angel didn't have many, she knew that. And to have one killed, line of duty or not, was one of the hardest things anyone went though.

 

"It was blurred, apparently it was a series of visions crammed into one." Angel's thumb ran over her knuckles, and Buffy shivered. Missed his touch? Starved for it, more likely. "First there was the evil Indian, then something with floating men who steal your voices, then commandos."

 

"Check on the Indian - Native American - and on the commandos. Don't know anything about the floaty men."

 

"You know the commandos?" His voice was sharp, and he wasn't letting her go this time. Or her hand at least. Hey, that was a start, right? And Buffy would take all she could get.

 

"I know about them, yes," she nodded, sighed. She was so tired, hadn't really been able to sleep in days. Since Angel started his lurking again. Before that, actually, and she knew it. Since...well, since he'd lost his soul. "I don't know much else except they're here, and they've got the demon population talking."

 

"The demon population always talk," Angel pointed out.

 

"Well, yes. But this is more than your normal gossip. Willy's power-freaked; says word is that something big's coming. But no one knows what. And other than these commandos, no one's got anything. Except this 3-1-4 thing. I don't know if the numbers are all together like 314, or separate on that one. Or what they'd mean either way. Plus, they did turn Spike into a harmless puppy."

 

"Bet he's thrilled with that," but Angel was grinning over it.

 

"It's actually a little sad," Buffy shrugged. "But the opportunities for mocking are boundless."

 

"Doyle's vision," Angel continued thoughtfully, "Showed a big ugly bad." Buffy looked at him askance, and he smiled. "Cordelia's words, not mine. Apparently, he had several demonic parts, but was also human. I don't know what else to compare it to except Frankenstein's Monster."

 

Buffy scrunched her nose in revolt. "Wasn't that the thing made out of all sorts of dead people's parts? Didn't I stop them a couple years ago?"

 

"Yes," Angel nodded, smiled and it melted her heart to see that smile, the one she knew was reserved solely for her. She'd missed that more than she wanted to admit, and hated that he still affected her so. "Guess they don't read those slayer reports, or they'd already know you defeated this one already."

 

Buffy laughed. She couldn't help it. "A joke. You have changed, Angel."

 

"Not that much, no," he shook his head. "I still love you."

 

He hadn't meant to say that. In fact, he hadn't really meant to talk to her at all this time. Maybe his stealthy skills were lacking. Or maybe, as Cordelia insisted - often and loudly - when it came to Buffy, he couldn't stay away. No matter how hard either of them tried. Considering the hell that was last year, they tried pretty hard.

 

"Angel," she sighed, blinked away tears he never wanted to see in her eyes again.

 

"God, baby, I'm sorry. Don't cry," he tugged on her hand, pulled her into his arms and kissed away her tears. "I can't stand it when you cry."

 

"You're the only one I cry over," her admission was low, but he heard it clearly. Holding her tightly to him, Angel couldn't think of anything to say to that. The only thing he could say wasn't what he thought she'd want to hear.

 

"I hate that." The words came out anyway. "I hate that I love you so much and only cause you pain. I never wanted that, Buffy. I only wanted you happy."

 

"I know. But I was only ever happy with you." Her voice was soft, firm, and Angel hated that, too. Hated that he was only ever happy with her, but they couldn't be together.

 

"Well, there's one more thing..."

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"I did?"

 

Willow blinked, trying to absorb everything she'd just heard in the last ten minutes, or lifetime, or so. She was awake now. Oh, yes, definitely awake. Confused, and she hoped it was sleep deprivation, but somehow doubted that.

 

"Are you sure?" Angel nodded. He stood next to the door, watching Buffy pace Giles' living area. Her movements were jerky, quick, her eyes hopeful and agitated. "How do you know?"

 

"It was part two of the vision, apparently." Giles was on the phone now, demanding Cordelia tell him everything she saw in her vision. Everything she could remember from Doyle's...everything about everything, apparently. The clipped English tones told the gathered Scoobies that not much had changed with Queen C.

 

"The first one was about this monster, interspersed with things I think Buffy's going to have to battle before then."

 

"Just what I need," she grumbled, but didn't stop her movements around the room.

 

Xander shook his head. "Can I take this opportunity to say ew? A Frankenstein among us? What, we don't have enough evil, they have to manufacture it? What is this world coming to?"

 

"The second vision," Angel continued as everyone ignored Xander's comments, even if they did agree with them. "Came after Doyle died. Why then, I don't know. Nothing the Powers do makes any sense to me. Cordelia had it; it was one of her first ones."

 

"And in this vision," Willow recapped slowly. "She saw Ms. Calendar's notes? And in these notes, the ridiculous clause was gone? Wiped? No more?" Angel nodded. "Why the hell did they wait so damn long?" Willow burst out, jerking everyone from their individual states - Xander bolted upright from where he'd been half listening and trying to stay awake, Giles stopped quizzing Cordelia, Buffy halted mid-stride, and Anya jerked awake.

 

"Did they think that in keeping it to themselves, it'd do something?" she waved her hands wildly. "That this secret was a good thing?"

 

Angel just shrugged, his eyes once more on Buffy's. "Is it true, Willow?"

 

"I don't know," Willow shrugged, stood. "I'd have to go over the notes." She moved towards Giles' basement where she stored the box - the five Orbs of Thessula and the multiple printouts she'd made of the curse. Just in case. "But it was in Rumanian. I don't speak Rumanian. I was just following the words."

 

"Find out, Will," Buffy said softly, moving to where Angel still stood. He took her hand, and they left without another word.

 

"Where are they going?" Xander demanded.

 

"I imagine," Giles said slowly, "They're off to test Cordelia's vision."

 

"Maybe you should hurry up on that research, Will," Xander told her, eyes holding hers as everything they'd just learned sunk in.]

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

The slow walk back to Buffy's dorm room was made in silence. Buffy clutched Angel's hand, afraid to let him go, afraid that this was all just a dream and she'd wake up in her room, Willow next to her already dressed for the day, and all this a fading dream.

 

"You think it's real?" Buffy asked. Her voice was quite, but the unmistakable hope was clear. Wincing, she swallowed, tried to ease her breathing, tried to slow her heart rate. Tried not to get her hopes up too high, knowing they'd be crushed. They always were.

 

"Yes. Nothing the Powers send in a vision hasn't been. Not yet, at least," Angel added.

 

Punching in her room code to let them into the dorm, Buffy led him to her room. Opening it, she stood outside for a moment. God, she wanted this so badly. Wanted him. "If I invite you in, and we...are you sure?"

 

Gathering her into his arms, Angel kissed her. Slow and sweet, he cupped her face in his cool hands, combed his fingers through her hair. Breaking the kiss in increments, unwilling to let her go, he pulled back. Watched her heavy green eyes open, heard her blood race, felt her warm breath puff on his skin.

 

"I'm sure that if I ever had the choice, I'd never leave you. I'm sure that Doyle's visions, and now Cordelia's, are as accurate as can be interrupted. I'm damn sure that Cordelia would never tell me something like this if she didn't believe it was true." He kissed her again, a quick affection. "And I'm dead certain that I'd never hurt you again. Not if I could help it. Not if it was within my power to prevent it."

 

"You willingly left me."

 

"We'll talk about that later, love."

 

"Come in, Angel," Buffy breathed, taking his hand and drawing him into the room.

 

They made love slowly. Touching through clothing, gently and loving. Removed that clothing, the barrier that had long separated them from each other. Angel kissed his way down her throat, suckled on her neck, inhaling the scent that was his mate. Tasted her sweetness, her fire. Her love. Not even another man could erase that, could come between them. But that wasn't for now. Now was for them.

 

"I love you," he whispered against her belly, slipped his fingers into her wet heat. Felt her clench around him.

 

"I've only ever loved you, Angel" Buffy sighed.

 

And then he entered her, filling her, and Buffy wanted to shout his name in joy. Panicked, she demanded, "Promise me," holding his face, she looked in her eyes. "Angel promise me. You won't leave me. This isn't a dream. When I wake, you'll be here."

 

"I promise, beloved. I swear to you, I'll always be here."

 

Wrapping her legs tighter around him, Buffy kissed him fiercely, and they moved together. Languid movements, soft kisses, whispered words of love. His fingers found her clit, his mouth caught her gasps, his other hand lifted him up so he could look at her, watch her as she exploded around him. Clamped down in pleasure.

 

"I love you..."

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"They put the clause in to punish Angel," Willow said the day after Angel, who was still blissfully Angel, left to deal with an errant childe in LA.

 

"Yes, I know this," Buffy grumbled, shuddered. She didn't like to think on that. How Angel learned what it was like to lose the one person that meant the world to him. Her. He'd held her after they made love, held her close as if afraid she'd disappear. It was her fear as well, so Buffy wasn't complaining.

 

"Fortunately for all of us, Buffy, you were too strong to be killed. But, from what's left of Ms. Calendar's notes, a portion of the reason they cursed Angel - or, ah, Angelus in this case - was for him to suffer. Hurting you fulfilled that twisted reasoning."

 

"So now that he suffered," Buffy snapped, bitter. Not at Willow, not even at Jenny Calendar, but at those gypsies who thought this was the 'perfect punishment.' Turning someone into a toad was fitting. Cursing someone with a trick soul was not.

 

"He's finished? What, the punishment's just done?"

 

"Ah...yes?" Willow squeaked, sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't know sooner. I never really thought to read the rest of the notes saved to that disk. I was so excited over finding the curse, and then afterwards, what with the concussion and the pain. And I didn't think it worked, and then you were gone..."

 

"It's okay, Willow," Buffy said, hugging her friend. "At least you found out now. Can you imagine if you hadn't?" she shuddered. "I could've gone on with my life never knowing...God, I could've dated Riley!"

 

"I'm sure the Powers wouldn't have allowed that. Corn-fed Iowa Boy and Slayer?" Willow shook her head, opened the door to Giles. "In what scary universe does your brain come up with these thoughts?"

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Isn't this typical," she wrote to Willow, frowning, as they walked to the college and Giles' research show. Her dream about the weird floaty men from the vision had come true not long after Angel left. In it, she saw them, knew what they were doing, only not - the image wasn't clear, the idea behind it only that, not a picture. And the song, it had something to do with the song that scary little girl was singing.

 

"He leaves, and I can't even call him to tell him I need his help."

 

"It'll be fine, Buffy," Willow reassured her friend as she quickly scribbled a response. "It's not like you can't defeat this."

 

"I know," and Willow could all but hear the sigh, the exasperation in Buffy's words, even if neither of them could talk. "But that's not the point. I like it when he's here."

 

"Yes, I'm sure," and she giggled a silent sound. All Buffy did was grin like a fool.

 

"Have I told you thanks for that spell enough, yet?"

 

"You can thank me all you want," Willow wrote as they entered the classroom. "But Ms. Calendar was really the one who did it."

 

"Yes, but if I thank her, then I'd have to admit the Powers didn't care enough to tell us a fucking year ago!" Buffy growled, but no sound emerged. What use was all her anger towards these so-called Powers if she couldn't express it?

 

Giles knocked on the table to get their attention, and Buffy hastily erased her last words. Big bad. Right. Stupid bad with no appreciation for timing. Spike was having a field day with this one. Even if his barbs lacked something in the reading rather than telling of them. Sitting a few seats down from the vampire, Buffy shot him a dirty look on principal, and watched Giles impart his knowledge.

 

And wondered how she was going to have Angel make this up to her.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"Angel," she breathed into the phone and he smiled at her voice. Some of the tension he'd carried with him eased.

 

"Baby, you're okay?" he demanded. "What happened?"

 

"Got your message," Buffy smiled, he could hear it over the phone. "All twenty-seven of them."

 

"I was worried," he admitted. "The news was vague, I had things here I had to clean up, and I couldn't get in touch with you."

 

"As much as I can't believe I'm siding with Cordelia, maybe it's time you invested in some email. I don't have to talk to tell you I'm fine."

 

Angel winced. Both at the prospect of the email thing, though he'd learned more about the computer in the past six months than he had since the damn thing was invented, and at the implied chastising. He'd offered to buy her a cell, so they could talk whenever. And while she'd accepted that offer, she'd countered with the email thing.

 

"Uh," he looked out into the reception area. "Cordelia's setting it up now."

 

The implied smirk was as clear as her smile was earlier. "Angel!" Cordelia shouted as if she knew what he and Buffy were discussing. "What kind of password do you want?"

 

"Tell her you'll set it up yourself," Buffy told him, lying on her bed and closing her eyes. "Don't want her reading the email-sex, do you?" There was silence on his end, and Buffy smiled wider. "I'll walk you through it."

 

Standing, he took the phone with him and nudged Cordelia aside. She huffed, shrugged, and patted his shoulder. "Goner."

 

Whether she meant when it came to the internet, or Buffy, Angel didn't know. Already knew he was when it came to Buffy. Five minutes later, Angel was logged on; he deleted his first spam, and logged back off.

 

"Now tell me what happened." He instructed, leaving the office area and returning to his rooms. "What happened with Riley?"

 

"I was fighting these uber-ugly, steal your voice guys," Buffy began, "And he showed up! It was weird. All of a sudden, here's this seemingly normal guy showing up all commando - er, in commando gear I mean - and fighting with this laser thingy. Willow's major interested in his ray gun."

 

Angel quirked an eyebrow. "Ray gun?"

 

"Or whatever," she defended. "So when are you coming to see me?"

 

"Changing the subject, lover?" Buffy laughed, and he smiled. It warmed him to hear that laugh, to know he was the cause of it. To know that he could make her laugh, make her smile. Make her scream his name in passion.

 

"Yes. Tonight?"

 

"I'll be there ninety minutes after the sun sets," he promised. "Now…Riley?"

 

"Oh. Right. Mr. Boring. Or he was until I realized he was part of these commandos we've been seeing all over campus and Doyle's vision warned us of."

 

Of course, it warmed him even more when Buffy called Riley boring. Petty? Possibly, but Angel didn't care. Any name calling of Riley Finn was just fine on his part.

 

"Be careful," he warned. "They might be part of this other vision. I don't know. But even if they're not, I want you to be careful around him. If he finds out you're the slayer, I'm going to enjoy myself if he and his army buddies decide to do anything to you."

 

"Pft," Buffy waved it off, and he could see the look in her eyes. "Like I can't take care of myself."

 

"I'm not saying that, baby. But if they do experiments on you?" he growled at the thought.

 

"Erm..." she hadn't thought about that, and Angel could tell by the silence on her end of the phone. "Well, I don't tell him, then."

 

"And he had to come to your room to have this conversation?"

 

"I didn't want to have it in the middle of the park!"

 

"At night, Weatherby Park?" Angel could see the advantages of it.

 

"Angel," Buffy sighed. "So, I'll be careful. I won't tell Mr. Boring about my membership in the Slayer's Union, and get rid of him. Okay?"

 

"I'll be there in," Angel looked at the bedside clock. "Five hours and thirty minutes."

 

"I'll be waiting, love."

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

"What are you?" Riley demanded as he sat on Willow's bed.

 

Buffy stared at him in anger. Shock and anger. This was the guy Willow, who had apologized profusely when she and Angel got back together, had tried to set her up wit? The commando moron? The guy who couldn't follow simple instructions? It was one time Buffy'd been sorry Xander hadn't been there. Even he would've got the whole box thing.

 

Riley? Typical. He was some stupid commando the government probably drugged up to take her place. Which, not a bad idea. But so not happening. Her last 'replacement' hadn't gone well at all. It was nice to know she was irreplaceable, but for the love of God, couldn't they not try with idiots?

 

"Capricorn on the cusp of Aquarius." she spat, annoyed. And the sun was going down. Angel would be here any time now. She wanted Riley gone. Long gone, when her lover arrived. "You?"

 

Riley at least had the decency to wince. "Sorry. That came out a little blunter than I intended. It's just," he stood, looked energized over this whole thing. It was more than a little scary. "You are amazing! Your speed, your strength."

 

"Also passionate, artistic and inquisitive." She folded her arms over her chest, glared. "Who are you?"

 

"You know who I am. The rest...what I do," Riley shook his head, closed off. Whatever. Like it wasn't obvious. "I can't tell you."

 

Buffy stood, wandered to the window to look out at the sun. It was lower, dipping against the horizon. Angel would be leaving...she glanced at her alarm clock, a brief look that Riley didn't even register. In fifteen minutes. So, assuming he drove as she remembered, the few times they'd managed to go someplace in his car, he'd be here in slightly less than the ninety minutes he'd promised. God, she loved an impatient lover.

 

Suppressing her smile, Buffy tried to put her mind back on the conversational path. Riley. Oh. Right. Commandos.

 

"Well, then let me. You're part of some military monster squad that captures demons, vampires, all that. Probably have some official sounding euphemisms for them - like unfriendlies or, non-sapiens."

 

Riley frowned, nodded. "Hostile Sub Terrestrials."

 

She was so good. "So you deliver these HST's," Riley winced again at her dead on observations, "To a bunch of lab coats, who perform experiments on them, which, among other things, turn some into harmless little bunnies. How am I doing so far?"

 

"A little too well." That befuddled frown was back. Moron. Idiot. Imbecile. How many other names could she come up with for him? Maybe they should have a contest. The person with the most inventive name won...something. To be determined later.

 

"I know what I fight. Even if they're supposed to be on the same side as me."

 

"Bulletin. I'm not the only one who's been a little less than honest here. You still haven't explained how you do what you do...you fight demons, I get that. But I mean, you wailed on those guys. I mean.....I'm a mass of bruises....." he shook his head in amazement, still feeling his muscles pull and strain. "I don't see a scratch on you"

 

Buffy relaxed. He didn't know anything. Not about her, not about Spike, not about the Scoobs. And, thank God, not about Angel. Angel...panic seized her as she realized that if they did the harmless puppy thing to Spike, they could to Angel. Not because he fed off humans any more...Buffy's hand drifted to her neck, caressed the faded scar there.

 

She had to protect him. At any and all cost, she had to protect Angel. She'd do anything, give anything to keep him safe. Eyes lighting back on Riley, Buffy realized that she'd put herself, her friends and family in danger to protect Angel.

 

She sat back on her bed, glanced back at the clock. He was leaving now. Getting closer to her. he'd be here soon, and she'd be in his arms. She'd have to call her mom, let her know to be even more wary about the night than she'd been. And Willow. She needed to remind her roommate not to come back to the dorm tonight. Maybe she and Angel needed their own space. Maybe, Buffy sighed, she was jumping ahead.

 

"I thought a professional demon chaser like yourself would have figured it out by now." Riley just looked at her. He had no clue. Smirking, Buffy shrugged. "I'm sure someone in your secret little base underneath the college has to know."

 

Ah, but for a video camera to capture the look on Riley's face. Xander'd have a field day with that. Hell, Spike's commentary alone would be well worth it.

 

"Look it up," Riley slowly nodded. "I think I will, if you don't want to just tell me," he trailed off, but Buffy said nothing, mentally counting the minutes until she was in her lover's arms. Riley started for the door, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. "Oh, and I don't think I need to tell you..."

 

Buffy sat back on her bed, leaning on her hands as she watched the minutes tick by and Riley look like a fool at the door. "Not to say a word?"

 

"Good." Riley nodded, taking her question for ascertain. "It'll be safer for all that way."

 

Seventy minutes later, when Angel entered her room, she was shaking.

 

"Angel!" Buffy launched herself into his waiting arms. "I'm going to die."

 

Panicked, Angel pulled back, looked at her. That wasn't what he was expecting. "What? Don't say that, baby. It's not funny." But his voice shook.

 

"There was an earthquake, Angel," Buffy's voice hitched. "Last time there was an earthquake, I died."

 

"I'm not letting you die." This time, his voice was firm. Even with the conviction he felt over that. He was not. Absolutely not. Letting her die. "Do you hear me, Buffy? You're not leaving me. I'm not letting you die."

 

Buffy nodded, relaxed. Kissed him a proper hello. Let his arms hold her, his strength seep into her.

 

"Now, want to tell me what has you so worried?" Angel sat on her bed, rested her on his lap. Stretching his legs before him as he leaned against the headboard, he waited for her explanation.

 

"No reason," Buffy sighed. "It's just...the earthquake. I know, I know, fault line. Whatever. Last time there was an earthquake, the Master killed me." Buffy shook her head. "It just brought back a lot of memories."

 

Tangling his hands in her hair, Angel kissed her again. Fiercely, passionately. "Talk to me, Buffy."

 

"Don't you want to hear about Riley, first?"

 

"No," Angel growled. "I can smell the boy all over. That's bad enough."

 

Buffy smirked, feeling better. Really, until the quake, she'd been find. But the Earth moving, the memories it brought back. She'd almost gone to Giles, but Angel was coming. Comfort, security. And in waiting, had worked herself up into quite the anxiety attack.

 

"He's such a schmuck," Buffy smiled, leaning back on Angel's thighs. She moved her hips in a slow motion against his cock, feeling it harden against her, loving that he wanted her, only her. "Doesn't know what a slayer is. Was all confused when I told him what he did."

 

"He didn't know?" Angel asked, confused.

 

"No," Buffy laughed again. "He does. But didn't think I did. The look on his face," she trailed off with another laugh. "It was priceless. You should've seen it, Angel."

 

"No," another growl.

 

"Never even thought that what he asked wouldn't be obeyed."

 

"What do you mean?" But he'd lost whatever little interest he had in the conversation. Tilting her head to the side, Angel kissed his way down her neck.

 

"Doesn't want anyone to know who he is." Buffy sighed, voice trailing off as Angel tugged her shirt over his head. "Angel, make love to me."

 

"With pleasure." He'd get the rest of the story out of her later. When he held her in his arms, when they slept together in her tiny bed. "With pleasure, my love."

 

 

The End

 

 

 

Part Three

The Plan - The Really, Really Bad Plan...Whose Plan Was This, Anyway?

 

 

“I’m neutered!”

 

“Do you have a…four?” Anya asked.

 

“I can only fight demons! This is awful!”

 

“Go fish,” Willow happily replied.

 

“Are you people listening to me?”

 

“No,” Xander told the vampire without looking up. “We’re not.”

 

Spike huffed and folded his arms, refusing to play. “This sucks. My entire life sucks.”

 

“No,” Anya pointed out, “You did suck. And now you’re a neutered puppy who can’t play.”

 

Spike growled, but did nothing more.

 

“Do you have an eight?” Willow asked him, casting him a sympathetic look.

 

“Bloody hell. Here.” He tossed the eight of hearts at her and continued to sulk.

 

“Where do you suppose Buffy is?” Willow asked as she laid down her pair of eights.

 

“Give me a queen, Harris.”

 

“Go fish!” he smirked at the vampire before quickly looking back down at his cards at the look Spike cast back. “Where else would the Buffster be?” Xander shrugged and asked Anya, “How about a duce?”

 

“Go fish.”

 

“She’s with the poof out at the dilapidated mansion,” Spike grumbled. “Where else would she be, certainly not with you schmucks.”

 

“And yet here you sit,” Anya reminded him.

 

Spike growled again, but no one paid attention.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Let me get this straight,” Angel smirked. “Riley actually wanted to put Giles in a cage?”

 

Leaning her head against his chest, Buffy let the hot water seep into her sore muscles, relieving the tension from the last weeks. Angel was doing a fine job of that, too. It was always nice to have her lover with her.

 

“Well, he was a demon at the time,” Buffy pointed out, not so much in defense, but in fact. “But there was the whole ‘Demon evil, must kill’ factor going on.” She giggled at that. “He was trying to be all manly, but really, it didn’t work. All loaded with lasers and tasers and ray guns or whatever he carries. And a radio. Oh!”

 

She laughed again, tilting her head to the side with a sigh as Angel’s fingers absently ran across her belly, up to cup her breasts. “So this radio, right? All connected with his team and all, right? With call signs and everything.”

 

“Call signs?” Angel smirked, but couldn’t resist leaning down to taste her mouth, lazily kissing her as they relaxed for the first time in ages.

 

“Hmm,” Buffy murmured, slowly opening her eyes. “What?”

 

“You were about to impart what was no doubt a brilliant secret code on Riley’s part.”

 

“Oh,” she laughed again, and Angel felt his heart flip at the sound. It was again light and carefree, like she used to laugh with him. He wondered what their life would have been like the last year and a half if they’d known about the soul-permanence earlier. Then again, he was glad he’d gone to LA. If not the fact that he’d left Buffy, Angel was glad he’d met Doyle, and even – to an extent – Cordelia and Wesley. “Lilac.”

 

“Huh?” he hadn’t been paying attention again. Oh, it wasn’t her, he could listen to her speak for hours, but it was more the sound of her voice, the rise and fall of it than the words. Though he enjoyed hearing about her days, too. “Riley got you flowers?” he growled.

 

“No, silly,” she swatted his arm, sending a slash of water at his face. “That’s his call sign. Lilac.”

 

Snorting in amusement, Angel shook his head, laughter sparkling in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but let the mirth free. “His call sign is a flower? What a dork.”

 

“Spike calls him Captain Cardboard.” Buffy grinned, settling back against Angel. “Xander’s title for him is Captain Boring. Anya has the best, though, and I think she wins the prize.”

 

“Have you decided what that prize is going to be?” But he was, again, only half paying attention. He had his beautiful lover in his arms, and intended on taking full advantage of that fact. They didn’t get to see each other all that much, to waste this time together was foolish. And he was not a foolish vampire.

 

“No, but she still wins. She calls him Captain Potential with a Small Brain and Equally Small Penis.”

 

Angel snorted with laughter again, distracted from Buffy’s neck. “What?”

 

“Hey, how she knows these things, I don’t know, but that’s the winner.”

 

Lifting her up, Angel turned her around, settling her over him. “He doesn’t know that you’re the slayer?” he asked, but he was soon distracted by her breasts, and he took one nipple into his mouth as Buffy sighed his name.

 

“Who knows I’m the slayer?” Buffy mumbled, eyes drifting close. She rocked over him, taking him deeper into her body with each movement. Water splashed over the rim of the tub, but neither paid attention to that. It was water on tile – it’d evaporate later.

 

“Riley,” Angel tried to say the name, but it came out as a sneer. He kissed his way back up her chest, biting down on her neck, much to her appreciation. She hissed in a breath, clamping down on him as ripples of her orgasm spread through her. Kissing the mark, Angel gripped her hips, urging her movements faster.

 

“Riley what?” Buffy’s breath caught, and her mouth sought Angel’s. “Oh, Riley.” She pulled back, and Angel growled in displeasure. Running her hands over his cheeks, through his damp hair, she added, “No. He doesn’t know I’m the slayer. I don’t think the government went for research smart when they recruited for The ‘Dale’s Dimwit Demon Detail.”

 

Another laugh, and Angel wondered if he’d ever laughed so much in one conversation. “The what?”

 

“Willow,” Buffy gasped when he returned his attention back to her neck. “Her contribution to the bashing of Riley party Giles had.”

 

“I think,” Angel commented, kissing her silent, “She deserves a prize, too.”

 

Then they were done talking, at least about Riley Finn.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Buffy!” Hearing a voice, Buffy stopped walking, and shared a glance with Willow.

 

“Remember, I won the bet with Xander,” Willow reminded her friend as Riley raced across the quad. “I get to listen and impart details.”

 

“What’re the odds at Willy’s?” Buffy whispered as Riley got closer.

 

“Fifteen to One the whole operation goes up in a ball of smoke equaled to our illustrious graduation day spectacle by May.”

 

“Did you bet?”

 

“Of course,” Willow said, sounding indignant. “I have twenty bucks you can do it by March.”

 

“Do what?” Riley asked, puffing slightly from his race across campus.

 

“Learn a new dance routine,” Buffy lied smoothly. “So what’s up?” She hadn’t talked to Riley in weeks, and wasn’t sure if he was purposely avoiding her since those creepy floaty-men meeting, or if there was something else going on with the commando. Like he’d learned who she was. Besides the obvious.

 

“I need to talk to you, Buffy,” Riley said, pointedly looking at Willow. Willow, for her part, refused to move, smiling serenely at him in the bright December light.

 

“Willow…?” Buffy asked with a huff when it became clear Riley wasn’t budging. Whatever he had to say she’d tell Willow anyway, so he might as well just save her the trouble of repeating it.

 

“Nope,” her friend grinned, slipping out her sunglasses. Settling them on her nose, knowing how easily her emotions could be read on her face, she added, “We have finals to study for, Buffy. And you promised me you’d spend the rest of today and all tomorrow doing so.”

 

Crossing her arms over her chest, smiling never abating, Willow nodded, resolve face to the fore. “I’m not leaving.”

 

“Ah…” Riley trailed off, clearly not expecting that.

 

“It’s okay,” Buffy shrugged. “Willow knows all my secrets, anyway.”

 

“All?” The skeptical look he sent was part confusion and part fear. For his secret, Buffy wondered, or because he didn’t think her best friend should know all hers?

 

“Yup. All. It’s in the Best Friend Handbook,” Buffy nodded sagely. “Besides,” she whispered in a stage voice, leaning closer to Riley and casting sidelong glances at Willow. “That’s her Resolve Face. There’s no getting away from that.”

 

Riley laughed, relaxed now. And it was clear he didn’t believer either woman, but shrugged. “If you say so. Are you sure…?” But Buffy just smiled. “I just wanted to tell you I figured it out.”

 

“It?” Buffy asked, confused. “What it?”

 

“That you’re the slayer,” he said in a low voice, wary of the rest of the students. “It wasn’t in our Dictionary of Mythical, Metaphysical, Magickal, and Mythic Creatures-”

 

“You have a dictionary with all that?” Willow cut in, excited. At Buffy’s look she quieted, “I’m just saying…”

 

“Er, yes,” Riley nodded, watching students wander past them, but none seemed interested in their conversation. “Are you sure we can’t go someplace not so public?” Buffy shook her head, but that was because she was rooted to the spot. “Well,” he continued in a soft voice, and she was just grateful he wasn’t shouting it over creation. “I finally found several references in our Database of Suspect and Possible Additions to Slayer-comma-the. I have to say, when I told Professor – I mean when I told my commander, she was thrilled.”

 

Buffy swallowed, fear settling cold and heavy in her belly. “You told someone?” Willow put her hand on her arm, and Buffy looked sharply at her. The silent look that passed between them said it all. No more secret identity, no more secrets, period – too much was out in the open now. Giles was going to be so pissed.

 

“My commanding officer, yes. I had to, Buffy.” The explanation did nothing to ease the dread spreading through her. Professor…wait, the only professor she knew Riley worshiped was Walsh, the mean bitch.

 

“And what,” she asked through clenched teeth, “Did Professor Walsh say to that?”

 

“How did you know…?” But Buffy just glared, and he shook his head in resignation. “Never mind; you seem to know way more about us than we'd like, anyway. She was thrilled. Wants to meet you. She said she wasn't aware that the Slayer was real, and can't wait for this chance to study, ah, talk with you. She has so many questions she wants to ask you.” 

 

“Yes, I’m sure she does.” Buffy looked again at Willow. So much for finals studying. “Look, Riley. I have to go. I…” God, what was she going to do now? He expected her to keep his secret, not that she had but that wasn’t the point, but he just blurted out her secret? Angel was going to kill him – if Buffy didn’t first.

 

“After finals,” she agreed, making an instant decision. “I’ll meet with Professor Walsh.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Well how did he find out?” Giles demanded. He went back into the kitchen for a glass, forgoing the tea already cooling on the counter. He needed something stronger.

 

“How should I know?” Buffy mumbled into her tea from her position curled on the couch. “I told him he had to figure it out for himself, I didn’t think he actually would!”

 

“Obviously, you were wrong, Buffy. Now what do you intend on doing about it?”

 

“What do you mean?” she shrugged. “Nothing. He knows I’m the slayer, fine. So does his boss, fine. What can they do to me?”

 

“I don’t know,” Giles admitted, “but I don’t like it that they know who you are. When it was just the school, they weren’t a threat, in fact,” he smiled here, remembering the umbrella they gave her at the prom. “They adored you for it. This is the government, and I doubt they’ll blithely accept you doing what you do without testing you somehow.”

 

“What kind of tests,” Buffy asked, panicked. She looked to Willow who tried to look reassuring.

 

“Strength, endurance, I don’t know, white blood cell count? I don’t know, Buffy. Please, be careful.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

She was. Super careful. But that didn’t matter, when, apparently, the government was after her. Or maybe not her. Spike. Yes, it was all Spike’s fault. She was sure of it.

 

“Damn it, Spike,” she grumbled. “I’m so kicking you ass for this!”

 

“Not my fault, slayer,” he shot back, laughing. Ducking under a swinging arm he deftly staked the vampire before leaning against the headstone to watch the rest of the show. “Watch her,” he repeated in a really bad imitation of Angel’s voice. “Make sure she’s okay, help her slay if you have to, but keep an eye on her.”

 

Switching to his own voice, Spike continued, “Yes, Sire, anything you say, Sire, what else shall I do, Sire” Back to Angel’s voice, “Go out and buy new hair gel for me – I need a new brand for my perfectly coiffed locks.”

 

“Spike!” Buffy laughed, “I’m going to stake you for that!”

 

“Oh, no!” His voice raised in a high pitched way. “The slayer’s going to stake me! Help!”

 

“Stop it,” Buffy staked the final vampire and turned to glare at her ‘help’. “He told you to help me, not to mock him.”

 

“All part of the service.”

 

Buffy walked up to him, tapping the stake against her thigh. “Spike,” she threatened, eyeing him as he pushed off the tombstone. “Go high,” she whispered and he nodded, swaggered closer as if he was going to attack. “They’ve spotted you, but I know,” she smiled, “You can out run them.”

 

“Staying alive is another part of the service,” he nodded, shoved her, hoped she didn’t tattle on him to the poof for that – Angel was so overprotective – and leapt on top of a nearby mausoleum. The commandos tried to follow, in fact three encircled Buffy and two more tried to chase him, but really, they couldn’t track him, not even with their nifty machines.

 

It was, he convinced himself, pure fluke they’d caught him the first time. If he hadn’t been so focused on killing the slayer…it was all her fault. But he stuck around now, just in case these commandos decided to start killing humans. Angel’d really kill him then. Slowly. Painfully. And with lots of toys.

 

“Buffy,” Riley said, and she turned to look at him, calm and sure. They had a lot to learn about stealth-mode.

 

“Hello, Riley. Graham, yes? And Forest?” She nodded as they stiffened, guns rising higher. Or not guns. Those ray things Willow wanted so badly to study. Buffy wondered what they did to a human if they could knock out a vampire.

 

“What are you doing here?” Riley asked, yanking his mask off. “And what are you doing with a vampire?”

 

Wondering how they knew about Spike, or if they were just good with faces, Buffy smiled. “Information.”

 

“Information.” Riley repeated, not believing her. “What kind of information could a vampire possibly have?”

 

“You’d be amazed what your HST’s have to say about bigger bads in the area.” Buffy hoped Spike hadn’t heard. He was sensitive about that, especially since the chip incident.

 

“Then you won’t mind sharing,” Graham said.

 

Hmm, well there you go, then. “Oh, nothing much today. Apparently, it’s actually a quiet week in Sunnydale. Must be the holiday rush.” This conversation wasn’t going at all like she wanted, so... “Well, it’s been real, but I have other places to sweep.”

 

“Wait,” Riley said, grabbing her arm to stop her. He didn’t hear Spike’s growl, but Buffy did and winced. He’d heard the comment about the big bad, then. “Buffy,” he cast a look over his shoulder at the rest of his team, Graham and Forest and two others rejoining them from the failed Spike-hunt.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“Not tonight, Riley,” she shook off his hand. “I’ve got…places to be.”

 

Riley watched her walk away, wondered what she was hiding, and rejoined his team. They still had Hostile 17 to find, whether or not he had information. “Spread out,” he ordered. “Find Hostile 17; he couldn’t have gone far.”

 

Spike laughed at that and disappeared before they could regroup.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I have a meeting with Professor Walsh in the morning,” Buffy told him. The sharp look he sent her way had her shrugging. “What? I know it’s a bad idea.”

 

“Buffy, this isn’t only a bad idea. It’s a dangerous one.” Angel checked the chicken he was grilling for dinner.

 

“I have to agree, Buffy,” Joyce added, coming back from the dining room table. “It’s bad enough these people know who you are. Walking into the Lion’s Den, so to speak, only gives them the advantage.”

 

The phone rang and Joyce moved to her office. “That’s the Atlanta call I was expecting,” her voice drifted back. “Start without me, I don’t know how long this is going to take.”

 

Angel watched her go, shaking his head. Leaning across the island, he kissed Buffy. “When did she decide she liked me?”

 

“About the time she realized the commandos were a really serious threat to me.” She pulled him back for another kiss. There was also the little argument they’d had about Angel being back in her life. It hadn’t been pretty, but in the end it was enough to convince her mother that she was staying with Angel and that was that.

 

“I don’t like this,” Angel said, moving the chicken from skillet to plate. “It’s dangerous. I don’t like you in danger.”

 

“You’re sweet,” she smiled, kissing him again. “I love you.”

 

“I love you, too, baby, but don’t change the subject. I still don’t like it.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

The meeting wasn’t going well. In fact, Buffy never realized how strong a hold on her temper she had. Her mother would be impressed. Giles would do flips of joy. As it was, she was proud enough to maintain the now painful smile she directed at Maggie Walsh.

 

“No tests,” Buffy repeated. For the fourth time. She really didn’t like repeating herself. “I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime,” she added in a grumble. Stupid council.

 

“I’m only interested in seeing how you measure up to our boys,” Maggie grinned, and Buffy wanted to smack it off her face.

 

“You want to see how I measure up?” Buffy stood, nodded. “Let’s go, and I’ll show you.”

 

“You’re hardly dressed for such a thing,” Maggie pointed out, but stopped when Buffy leaned against her desk.

 

“Here and now, Professor, or not at all. I’m in a rush, today. I’m…” meeting my lover in two hours so he can tell me what a bad idea this was. “Meeting my mother for lunch.”

 

Nodding, Maggie gestured to her secret entrance to the underground facility. Buffy resisted rolling her eyes. Secret entrance to a secret lab. How clichéd.

 

“Where’s your sparing room?” She asked, watching Maggie the moment the doors opened. The rest of the place continued on with their work, barely sparing her a glance, but Buffy made sure to memorize everything she could about them. She had no idea what Giles could get from her observations, but it was good to have.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Buffy stood over her twentieth…victim. Some had gone down easier than others, but she had to admit, they had the moves. Just not her strength, speed, skill…yeah. She was so better than them.

 

“I have to go,” she smiled at Maggie and Riley – her first victim. “But,” she swallowed, kept on smiling. “I’d like to see what else you have going on here. It’s nice to have help.”

 

“Agent Finn will see you out, Miss Summers.” Maggie nodded. “And I’ll see about allowing you limited access here.”

 

“So demon hunting,” Buffy said as they walked back through the room. “How many have you, ah…what do you call it?”

 

“Capture. We capture them.”

 

“Right. For experiments.”

 

“They’re animals, Buffy. They don’t deserve anything more than studying them so we can better kill them.”

 

Fuming over his words, Buffy clenched her teeth – again – and hoped, when the time came for her checkup, her dentist appreciated she saved his life last year from the marauding antelope-looking demon. “Right.”

 

“You’re angry,” he stopped her. “Why?”

 

“I’m not angry,” she said as calmly as she could. “But to experiment even on animals? Killing them is more humane.”

 

“Then how can we know what they’re about, their physiology, their habits? The more you know about an enemy, the better you can kill it. How about,” Riley offered at the look on her face. “We change the subject? We’re about to capture a really great prize.”

 

“Prize? What prize?” she asked as they resumed walking.

 

“Some of the HSTs here are talking about a vampire. Goes by the name Angelus.” He didn’t notice Buffy’s face drain of color or her sudden erratic breathing. “Word is he’s stronger than any vampire we have – older, stronger. It’d be such a coup, taking down such an old HST; we’ve only manage to get the babies in this town.”

 

“That’s because you never look in the right places,” Buffy murmured, but shook her head at Riley’s questioning look. It was just as well he hadn’t heard her.

 

“Professor Walsh is looking forward to, ah…learning from him.”

 

“Yes,” Buffy choked out as the elevator ascended. “I’m sure she is.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“So the meeting didn’t go well.” Giles inferred from the look on Buffy’s face.

 

“They’re after Angel,” she whispered. Giles blanched and ushered her inside. Immediately going to the kitchen, he put on the kettle for tea. Wondered if maybe she needed something stronger. No, probably not, but he sure as hell did.

 

While there, knowing full well that she could hear him, Giles called Willow, told her to get Xander, and yes Anya, too. For only a split second he debated calling Angel’s cell, then did so. With Buffy undoubtedly distraught, she was going to need him; plus, Buffy was to meet the vampire later. If she didn’t meet him, Giles knew Angel would, to use a Buffy term, freak.

 

“Buffy,” he said gently, handing her the steaming mug of chamomile tea. “Angel’s on his way.” She nodded as if she already knew that, and Giles supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised that she did.

 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to him,” Buffy said, staring up at her watcher with clear, determined eyes. “Whatever I have to do, I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”

 

“I know you won’t Buffy. Now why don’t you tell me what you mean by, ‘they’re after Ang-’”

 

He was cut off by the crashing of the door opening to his basement. At first, he’d been resistant to it, but considering the necessity since Angel’s return to Buffy’s life…

 

“Baby?” Angel asked, moving directly to Buffy’s side, ignoring Giles. Kneeling before her, never noticing Willow, Spike, Xander, and Anya burst through the front door seconds later, he cupped her face with his hands. “What happened?”

 

Turning that same determined look on him, Buffy repeated what she’d said to Giles. “They’re after you, and I’m not letting anything happen to you.” Placing the mug of tea on the side table, careful to position it on the coaster, she took a deep breath. “I love you, Angel. And I don’t care what I have to do, they’re not getting you.”

 

“They who?” But the question was from Xander. Angel already knew.

 

“Is that what your meeting with Walsh was about? Me?”

 

“No. It was about me and the fun filled tests they want to do on me and my nifty powers.” Buffy nodded at Angel’s growl, taking his hands in hers. For comfort, for the feel of his skin against hers. Breathing easier, knowing what she had to do, Buffy smiled. “They so couldn’t take me. But as I was leaving, with Maggie’s promise of clearance or something, Riley tried to impress me.”

 

“Hope you kicked his ass,” Xander chimed in. “He’s such a meathead.”

 

“Course the slayer kicked his ass,” Spike snorted, patting down his duster for his cigarettes. What was it about this gang that made him smoke so damn much? “How embarrassing for her if she hadn’t.”

 

Buffy smiled, but her eyes never left Angel’s. “Some of the vamps they captured talked. About Angelus and how he was seen in town. When questioned, they were all too happy to spill what they knew. Luckily, it wasn’t much; just that you were seen in Sunnydale and were a Master older than all of their captives put together.”

 

“And what makes you think they can take me, lover?” Angel demanded.

 

“Well they do have all those nifty science fiction weapons,” Xander said. “And they got Spike, look at the nice puppy we have now to follow us around.”

 

“They’d do worse to Angel,” Anya said, reaching into Gils’ cookie jar. “He’s older, stronger, and has a soul.’

 

“They can’t take you,” Buffy said, though she heard the banter between the other couple. “But I’m not taking the chance.” She dropped her voice, leaned her forehead against his. “I can’t let anything happen to you. If they actually do happen to somehow manage to get you, I…” she’d kill everyone and everything in her path to free him. “Anya’s right. They’ll do more experiments on you then they did on Spike. I’m not letting that happen.”

 

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Buffy,” Angel assured her. “I can take care of myself.”

 

“Yes, that’s what Spike said,” Anya offered. When she noticed Spike’s pout, she patted him on the arm in a condescending way. “Sorry.”

 

“I’m not about to let that happen to you, Angel.” She kissed him, pulled back. “But I need access to these goobers. The easiest way is to pretend interest in Riley. With me on their side, and dating one of their little army men, I’ll have access to things I wouldn’t if it was just me.”

 

“Keep your enemy close?” Willow asked. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Buffy? What if they find out?”

 

“They won’t. I’m not about to let them.”

 

“Forget it,” Angel flatly stated. “You’re not getting near them.”

 

With a serenity that surprised the gang, Buffy nodded. “Yes I am. Besides the obvious I’m not letting anything happen to you, there was a whole section labeled with yellow tape and big caution signs. I think that’s where this Frankenstein thing from Doyle’s vision is. I need access to find out what’s behind door number one.”

 

“Forget it, Buffy.”

 

“There has to be another way,” Willow offered. “I mean to get in, to have access without dating Riley.”

 

“No matter how much ‘clearance’ they give me,” Buffy pointed out, “It’ll never be enough to look at their top-secret stuff. Riley already has clearance, and the trust of Maggie Walsh. I’m not going to marry him,” Buffy shuddered at that, “I’m only going to pretend I care for him, so I can gain his trust.”

 

Angel growled at her. “Absolutely not. No way. Forget it, Buffy. I’m not letting you anywhere near him. He’s not touching you or looking at you, let alone dating you. There’s another way.”

 

“There has to be,” Willow added. “I’m sure there’s another thing we can do, some other way we can get this information.”

 

“Buffy may be right,” Giles added, and stood his ground when Angel turned golden eyes onto him. “If she has Riley’s trust, then she’ll be able to learn more about what they do down there. She’ll be watched less, allowed access to more. At least Riley will give her access to more, maybe not top level, maybe not this three-one-four, but more than Walsh will allow.”

 

Buffy nodded. “Angel, it’s the only way. You think I’m happy about this?” her voice dropped even further, though both knew Spike could still hear her. “You think I want to hide the fact I’m in love with only you? That I want Riley anyplace near me? That I want any of this?”

 

She kissed him, but Angel remained perfectly still. “I’m only going to date him, nothing more. Just that to show that I can be trusted more than they think I can be.”

 

“You’ll be putting yourself in unnecessary danger. I won’t allow it.”

 

She bristled at him not allowing it, but went on. “Right now, I’m this rogue element to them and their little organized minds. If I can prove I’m not, if I can convince them I like this help, then I’ll have access to more of their toys. Including that room.”

 

“What I think-” he cut himself off, looked over his shoulder and stood. Taking her hand to help her rise, he said, “We’ll discuss this at home.”

 

With that they were gone, through the basement and into the sewers to ‘discuss’ Buffy’s outrageous plan.

 

“He’ll never allow her to do that,” Spike predicted in the silence that followed the couple’s abrupt departure.

 

“You sure about that, Spike?” Xander asked.

 

“The poof’s way too possessive over the girl. All obsessed with her, all 'I’m her mate and no one else touches, looks, breathes in her'.” He shook his head. “Nope. Never happen.”

 

“I’d have to agree,” Xander nodded. “But for the one fact you’re missing.”

 

“What’s that, Harris?”

 

“If Angel’s in danger, there’s no way anything on this planet will prevent Buffy from protecting him. Even if she has to date dork-boy to do it.”

 

“Care to make a little wager on that?” Spike offered.

 

“Such as?” Xander asked, intrigued.

 

“Winner gets to tell Captain Pathetic everything once this latest apocalypse is over.”

 

“Agreed.” Xander offered his hand, and they shook on it.

 

 

 

 

Part Four

That There Fight

 

 

He stewed the entire sewer trip to the mansion. Fingers clasped around her own, hard enough to bruise even her, briskly walking, he’d have said, though she’d have countered with stalking. The few steps from the manhole in the still-ruined gardens to the Great Room was done with no sun exposure.

 

“Angel!” Buffy huffed, turning to face him. “Okay, I get it. You’re not in the least happy about this. Doesn’t mean you can rip my arm off!”

 

“Sorry,” he said shortly, though his fingers massaged her own, cool and gentle. “But I’m not letting you do this. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you get near Riley, clearance or not. Information or not. Understood?”

 

Buffy nodded, but didn’t waver. But, wow, whatever he was doing to her fingers felt really good. She knew exactly what she had to do. She had to protect her lover. She had to protect Angel. And if she had to lie, steal, cheat, or kill – thank you Scarlet – she’d do so. Over and over again until she knew he was safe.

 

“I’m still doing it.”

 

“Buffy,” he growled, eyes yellow. The rumble in his chest sounded like a lion’s roar, but she didn’t back down. His hand clenched around her fingers, briefly, before releasing her altogether. She felt the loss clear to her soul but didn’t back down.

 

Drawing in a sharp breath, Angel glowered then turned away from her. A sob wanted to catch in her throat, but Buffy refused to give in. This was a fight. Nothing more. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had them over the years of their very strange relationship.

 

Except, she’d never told him she was going to effectively cheat on him before. Normally, it wasn’t something a relationship, especially their very jealous one, survived. Now…now, she was betting everything – their love, their future, his life – on this. How crazy was she? How desperate?

 

“I’m still doing it,” she emphasized, stepping forward, “Because I’m not letting anything happen to you. Get it?” she screamed when Angel hadn’t moved. “I’m not letting anything happen to you, and there’s nothing you can say or growl about it!”

 

Whirling then, eyes blazing with anger and hurt, and something else. But beneath all that love. Love and desire and possessiveness. He grabbed her shoulders, shook her once, but not hard enough to injure. His vampire face was rigid, teeth bared even as she could see the effort he exerted to control himself.

 

“You are not!”

 

“Angel,” she said softly, willing her own anger away. Yelling at each other wasn’t going to help. She wasn’t sure what would at the moment, but a screaming match wasn’t it.

 

“Baby, listen to me.” He was, though clearly not happy with it. His face was harsh with rage and fear, the yellow of his eyes boring into hers. His hands had gentled, still holding her firmly.

 

“I love you. You,” she brought a hand to cup his face. Her thumb absently traced the ridges of his demon, eyes steady on his. “No one else. I love you. I’m not doing this because I want to date Riley, eww to that.” she affected a shudder but continued. “I’m not doing this because I want to hurt you; I’m doing this because I don’t want anything to happen to you. Ever. Especially not if I can help it.”

 

“Buffy,” his voice was forced in the quiet of their home. “I don’t want him touching you,” he eventually said.

 

“He won’t.” she shuddered again, and this time there was no pretending. “The mere thought skeeves me. I’ll come up with some story, something about how my ex done me wrong, and I don’t want to rush things, and that’ll be that.”

 

“I don’t want him touching you,” he repeated through clenched teeth. “At. All.”

 

Buffy blinked. “Oh. Right.” She cleared her throat. “Hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted in a mumble.

 

For some reason, that admission calmed him. Before she could figure out what happened, she was in Angel’s arms, held tightly against him, and they were sitting on the floor. Winding arms and legs around him, Buffy kissed him softly before settling back on his thighs.

 

“Is that what’s really bothering you? Me, ah…” she swallowed, scrunched up her nose at the thought. “Kissing Riley?”

 

Angel growled, but shook his head. “No,” he said softly, breathing in the clean scent of her hair. It was plain, something almost natural. The better, she’d once told him, to sneak up on the enemy. If they couldn’t scent you, you had the drop. He already knew this, but hadn’t said anything, merely approved of the switch.

 

“Then what? Tell me, Angel,” she pleaded. “What’s wrong?”

 

It was long, long moments before Angel spoke. Taking another deep breath, he nodded once, as if in agreement, combed his hands through her long hair, and began. 

 

“He’s why I left you.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Uh…what?” she shook her head. “Angel, I didn’t even know Ri- oh.”

 

“Yes.” he nodded. “I left you because I was terrified to release Angelus again, knowing that just being near you was my happiness. But I did…I do,” he corrected slowly, “Want you to have what I can’t give you. Picnics in the sunlight. A day at the beach. Driving all day with the top of the car down, the wind in your hair and the sunlight on your face.” He swallowed, cleared his throat. “Children.”

 

Tears glistened in Buffy’s eyes, but Angel didn’t stop. Nor did he give her a chance to interrupt him, though he could see she wanted to. Brushing a lone drop off her cheek, he offered a smile. A small sad smile, desolate in the face of everything that still lay between them, but he offered all he could.

 

“He’s the epitome of everything I’ve ever wanted for you and don’t know how to give you.”

 

“I don’t want those things, Angel.” Her voice hitched, breath stopped somewhere in her chest.

 

“No?” A short laugh escaped him and he watched her steadily in the fading sunlight. “You don’t want to see me waiting for you in the sunlight when you leave your classes? You don’t want to meet me for lunch in the park? You don’t want to wake up one morning, go to the beach, take a drive, make love in the sunlight?”

 

Slowly, reluctantly, Buffy nodded. “I do want that,” she said quietly, the words pulled from her against her will. They were unusually loud in the quiet of the mansion, a shotgun across them. “But I want you more.”

 

The smile was brief, but real, and Angel relaxed a little. “Now you do, but what about the future? In ten years, hell in five, in two. When you realize that all you see is darkness, all you do is fight, is hunt the darkness. When you want to go to a fair or a parade, but I can’t go with you. Then what?”

 

“The future,” she repeated faintly. “The future is what we want it to be. It’s hard, and it doesn’t always work, but if you want something badly enough, you can make it happen.” She grinned at his startled look and explained, “Giles said that to me. It didn’t all make sense at the time, but I don’t think I was paying complete attention, either.”

 

“Do you believe that?” he asked.

 

“Yes. Yes I do. I want our future to be together. It’s going to be hard, I’m sure of that.” She uttered a short laugh here. “Nothing between us is ever easy. But then I don’t think,” she continued slowly, “That we’d appreciate it as much if everything was easy. Now, with the way we are, with things as they are, I think we have a better chance at appreciating what we do have, and with each other.”

 

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “But I’m still not letting you date Finn.”

 

Breaking away with a laugh, Buffy shrugged. “You don’t have a choice. I’m not dating him because I want to, God knows. I’m doing it because if anything happened to you,” she swallowed. The tears were back in her eyes, and Angel hated that.

 

“I can’t lose you, Angel. We make fun of the Initiative, of Riley, but they’re dangerous. And they’re after you, now. I don’t want you in that place. I don’t want to even think about what they’d do to you if they had you.”

 

“I know, love,” he agreed. “No matter what you say about Spike, it wasn’t dumb luck they caught him. They wouldn’t have an operation in Sunnydale unless they were good enough to survive. They have been so far, and that doesn’t look like it’s about to change anytime soon.”

 

“See? Exactly my point. Well, not the Spike part. But they’re dangerous, Angel!”

 

“Yes. And because of that, I’m not leaving you to deal with them alone.”

 

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Buffy said, “Look. It’s like this. I love you. I’m not letting the geeks Riley works with get one laser beam on you. Simple. You love me. You don’t want anyone hurting me. Simple.”

 

“It seems,” he noted dryly, “That our ideas are sound, but in practice, we differ. Greatly.”

 

“Not so much so,” Buffy shook her head. Desperate to make him see. She didn’t want to date Riley. Far from it. But she did want Angel safe. And if keeping him safe meant Riley, well then…

 

“I date Riley. Maggie is already so thrilled I want to be on their little team that she’ll let me into whatever I want.”

 

“Almost whatever you want,” he reminded her. “I doubt she’ll blithely open the door to 3-1-4 and give you a grand tour.”

 

“Almost,” Buffy nodded in agreement. “True. Still, the demons there know me. Or know of me. One whispered rumor of experiments, and they’ll freak. OOH!”

 

“I see where you’re going with this,” Angel narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t like it.”

 

“But you agree, yes?”

 

He growled, but agreed.  “Turning them to our side against Maggie and her little band of Frankenstein’s? It’s a good idea,” he nodded. “Tricky. Hmm…”

 

“Yes, see?” She bounced once on him.

 

“Honey, if you’re going to do that, I’d prefer we both be naked.”

 

Buffy giggled, and undid the buttons on his shirt. But she continued with her new brilliant plan. Well, brilliant was debatable, but it was much better then the Riley Plan, at least. “So we get them on our side, threatening them with Maggie’s experiments instead, right? Most of the demon population is already nervous about this 3-1-4, anyway.”

 

Her voice was muffled for a moment as Angel lifted her shirt over her head. With his mouth doing delicious things to her breasts, and his fingers stroking her through her pants, Buffy tried to think. “Angel,” she breathed instead.

 

“Yes?” He grinned wickedly at her, rolling her under him. The better to remove her clothing. “Yes, I agree,” he nodded, face innocent. Her socks and shoes were gone the next instant. “Bring them to our side to fight this thing, keeping everyone alive in the process.”

 

Her pants were unbuttoned and slipping down her hips, his mouth following with light kisses even as he continued to speak. “But you’re not dating Riley.” He kissed her hard then, possession and love warring in his need to keep her to himself.

 

“Love makes you do the wacky,” she gasped, arching under his mouth, his attention now back on her breasts. “It makes you protect those you love, too.”

 

But then Angel was inside her, the cool hard length of him making her forget everything but the love she felt for him. And later, curled tightly around each other in their bed, Buffy drowsy on his chest, he capitulated.

 

It wasn’t, he assured himself, the several hours of mind-blowing sex they’d just had. Nor was it the fantastic and highly erotic things she could do with her mouth. Christ, she had the best mouth, the sexiest body, soft and flexible, biddable when he wanted, and knew just what to do to drive him to the brink of insanity.

 

No, it wasn’t that…hell, Angel didn’t know what it was. But they didn’t have a better plan. Or any other plan. God, he hated this.

 

“I hate it. The whole idea. I hate it because it takes you away from me and gives you to Riley. Riley doesn’t deserve to carry your castoffs.” To wallow in your shit, to see, breathe, or think about you.

 

And if Angel had his way, and this awful plan went as the sinking suspicion in his gut said it would, when he was finished with Riley, he wouldn’t be able to do any of those things. Ever again.

 

She raised her head, blinking sleepily at him, but her full attention on him.

 

“I might have to kill him after this,” Angel nodded once, as if agreeing with himself. “And I’m not very sure I can stand by and watch the two of you together. In fact,” he growled, hands tightening on her. “I know I can’t.”

 

“He’s not what I want,” she whispered, hand over the place his heart lay. “I only want you.”

 

*“When you make a mistake, don't look back at it long. Take the reason of the thing into your mind and then look forward. Mistakes are lessons of wisdom. The past cannot be changed. The future is yet in your power.”*

 

“What makes you say that?” She didn’t ask who said it, not caring in the lease. What she really wanted to know was what he meant by it.

 

“I know he’s not what you want. I know I am. It doesn’t make it any easier, makes it harder, I suppose.” He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, quiet as he gathered his thoughts. “I want us to have a future. Sunlight or not. Children or not.” His hand drifted to her belly, large and cool as it splayed over her.

 

“Maybe, if we get that far, after you graduate college, we can…” he trailed off.

 

“Adoption?” she asked quietly. Placing her hand over his, Buffy nodded. “See? Looking into the future and seeing what you want to make of it…it’s a good thing.”

 

“It is,” Angel nodded, bending to kiss her. “I love you.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

The phone woke him. Reaching out a hand for the nighttable, Angel grabbed the impossibly tiny machine and snapped, “What?”

 

“Geez, rude much?” Cordelia’s voice drifted over the line. “Look, it’s not my fault bad news only comes when you’re sleeping. Night or day.”

 

“Cordelia,” he warned, shifting to look at Buffy who was now awake as well. So much for sleeping in and enjoying their afternoon together. It was only a week before Christmas, and with demonic activity slow, it was nice to have time to themselves.

 

“Wesley heard from the like one person on the Council who still talks to him.” Cordelia said, coming to the point. She knew when to speak and when to remain silent. Really.

 

“And?”

 

“He thinks you should return to LA.”

 

“Can’t you just tell me over the phone?”

 

“No. Or I would’ve already.”

 

“I’ll be there tonight.”

 

“No Angel,” she said slowly, reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I know, I know. Strict instructions and all. But this? It’s one of those contingencies you told me about.”

 

He was already standing, rooting through the closet for clean clothes. “I’m leaving now.” He hung up, tossing the phone on the bed without looking back.

 

“Problems?” Buffy’s voice was soft behind him.

 

Turning, Angel nodded. She looked beautiful, rumbled from their loving, hair a wild mass around her shoulders, eyes heavy with passion and sleep. She smelled of him, of them, and a fierce pride shot through him at that. She was his. Riley be damned.

 

“Cordelia wouldn’t say, which leads me to think it’s worse than that. Wesley found something out, I have to get back.”

 

“Now?” But then she swallowed, nodded. “Okay.”

 

They’d talked about their relationship, about the past, the future they both wanted. Keeping them both alive and safe played a strong part in that future. Letting him go, when it was clear he didn’t want to but needed to, was a part of the foundation they were working on.

 

To pass onto those children they’d discussed.

 

“Call me when you get there,” she said instead, pulling the sheet off the bed and wrapping herself in it. Holding out his phone, she kissed his chest. “And let me know what’s happening.”

 

Pulling her to him, Angel kissed her properly, long and hard and thorough. “I love you, my heart.”

 

Buffy smiled, nodded, sat back on the bed. With one last look at her, Angel returned to dressing. But a blossom of pride bloomed in his heart. Maybe they could work out. And that future they both wanted was within reach, despite their difficulties.

~~~~~~~~~~

She wasn’t staring at the phone, per se, not really. She was…baking. Or trying to help her mother and Willow bake. It wasn’t working.

 

“Buffy,” Joyce sighed, nudging her aside. “Please. Sit. You’re not helping, honey.”

 

“Oh,” Buffy nodded, tried a smile. “Sorry, mom.”

 

“I know, honey,” Joyce kissed her forehead and shooed her to one of the island stools. “You’re worried; I am, too. But you’re also destroying the cookies you wanted to bake.”

 

She held up a spoonful of the batter to demonstrate. It was watery, gooey, and Buffy wasn’t entirely sure, looking at it, she’d put the flour in.

 

“Ugh,” Buffy twisted her mouth at the sight. “Again, sorry. But it’s been hours since Angel left.”

 

”And you’re worried,” Joyce nodded. “He called when he got to LA, right?” Buffy nodded, eyes reluctantly moving from phone to mom. “Said he’d call you when he found out what was happening, yes?” Again, Buffy nodded. “He will, then.”

 

Joyce dumped the batter into the garbage then set about rinsing the bowl in the sink. “Buffy, Angel loves you. He’ll call. I’ve never seen a man like him,” she went on, handing the now clean bowl to Willow who silently nodded her thanks, unwilling to interrupt this Angel-positive conversation. Or the calming effect it was having on the highly strung slayer.

 

“He calls when he says he will, writes, sends flowers, and is the perfect gentleman.” Joyce sighed, this time in romantic envy. “He loves you, Buffy, and only wants to keep you safe.”

 

“Did you tell your mom?” Willow asked, flinching in sympathy when Buffy flinched.

 

“Uh…no?” Joyce shot her daughter a curious glance. “Mom,” Buffy sighed. “I, ah, came up with this, er…plan.” Joyce nodded in encouragement. Willow, forgoing the mixer, started mixing the new batter by hand. Rapidly. “Uh…so you know how we have to find out about Riley and these commandoes?”

 

Joyce nodded. Fifteen minutes later, she was shaking her head. Willow had poured her a drink, and the kettle was just whistling. But no call from Angel.

 

“Date him?” she sipped her gin and tonic. “Riley? But honey…Riley? Why?”

 

“Er…” Buffy shrugged, sighed, dejected. “I don’t know. It’s the only plan we have.” Was that why Angel hadn’t called? Because he was mad about her plan? Which, granted, wasn’t the best she’d ever come up with, but still. He had agreed to it…under duress, admittedly, but…

 

Just then her cell vibrated along the counter, and she lunged for it. “Angel,” she breathed, already knowing who it was.

 

Watching her daughter walk outside to speak with her lover, Joyce turned to Willow. She stared at her daughter’s best friend, as the redhead sipped her tea. Blankly stared and wondered what this world was coming to. Her daughter had obviously lost her mind.

 

“Riley?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“HA!” Xander crowed, dancing around the living room. “I win!”

 

“Bloody ponce,” Spike sighed, sipping Giles’ whisky. The watcher had generously offered him some when Willow arrived, with Joyce, both bearing cookies, and the news that yes. Angel caved – they were going ahead with Buffy’s really bad plan.

 

“I get to tell Ridiculous Riley the truth.”

 

“That’s stretching the alliteration a bit, Xander,” Giles muttered, but didn’t look up from his drink. Xander wasn’t paying attention.

 

“I can’t believe he caved,” Spike muttered, thrusting his glass toward Giles for more.

 

“I’m worried about their relationship,” Joyce added, pouring herself a mouthful of the elixir. “They love each other so much, I’m not sure how either are going to react when it comes down to it.”

 

“Bah,” Xander waved a hand. “Please. They’re so far up…ah,” he stopped looked at Buffy’s mother. “They’re so in love with each other it’s ridiculous. Even Riley the Village Idiot can’t break them apart.”

 

“Maybe not,” Joyce said softly, the room silent now. “But it’ll strain their relationship. And yours with the both of them.”

 

“Joyce is right,” Anya nodded. “We have to talk Buffy out of this. Or,” she snagged a cookie. “End it soon. Buffy without Angel isn’t a pleasant sight to be around. She’s violent.”

 

“The poof’s not much better,” Spike sighed, grabbing two cookies and generously sharing with Giles. After all, the watcher was sharing his liquor. “It’s not going to be a pretty sight.”

 

“No, but just remember. After all is killed and buried, I,” Xander took a cookie, properly chastised. “Get to tell Riley the Annoying all about it.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

He didn’t return that night. When he did, three days later, Angel surprised her by slipping into their bed, curling up behind her.

 

“Angel?” she was awake instantly. Rolling to face him, she absently kissed his chest. “Where were you?”

 

“Heard back from the contact I was waiting for,” he sighed, settling against her. He smelled of sweat and tiredness, and Buffy wanted to comfort him, take all that into her and make him forget.

 

“And? What did he say?” she murmured, brushing her lips across his.

 

“The Council is involved,” Angel told her, holding her close. He couldn’t relax, not yet. But now, with her in his arms, he could at least begin to. “He doesn’t have proof, mind,” he tucked her head against his chest. “But the rumors are Travers wants a piece of Sunnydale back.”

 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Buffy nodded, but shook slightly at the thought. The Council was involved. And they’d probably want her, too. “I really don’t like that man. What else?”

 

“He wants to use them to exterminate the demonic threat…and any rogue element they happen to encounter.” A shudder rocked him, and he pulled her close, as if willing her into him. To keep her safe. “He means,” Angel continued slowly, though knew from the sudden stillness of his lover she needed no explanation. “To get rid of you. Faith, too, most likely. Call a new slayer. Start…fresh.”

 

“Angel…” Buffy drew in a deep breath. Willed the tears away, the fear that gripped her – for herself, for her friends and family. For Angel. Swallowed, steadied her voice, tried again. “I can’t let him win.”

 

“We won’t, love,” he promised. “I swear to keep you safe.”

 

He wasn’t letting Travers win. And while, logically, he knew (and grew hard at the thought) of Buffy’s strength. She could take care of herself, it didn’t matter. He’d do whatever he had to, to keep her safe. Including, see to the demise of Quinton Travers.

 

“Make love to me, Angel.”

 

Her voice floated in the darkness, a plea, a caress. Murmuring to her, the Irish words of love and devotion soft against her skin, Angel did. He reminded both of them they were alive, were in each other’s arms.

 

 

*Quote from Hugh White (1773 - 1840)

 

 

 

Part Five

Faith, Riley, and Videotape - EWWW! She Taped This? My Eyes! Quick, Burn It!

 

“What we once were informs all that we have become.” Her voice floated from the past, soft and seductive as always. Darla’s beautiful features caught the candlelight, her blue eyes hard and calculating. “The same love will infect our hearts – even if they no longer beat.”

 

This time, instead of seeing his mother and sister, Buffy lay dead at his feet. Battered, bruised, broken. Angel remembered this dream, remembered ignoring the bodies, walking out of the house that had once been his and away from Ireland for the rest of his existence. He’d never returned, not after massacring the entire town, never wanted to. There was no point to it, nothing on that pathetic island that held any meaning for him.

 

“Simple death won’t change that.” Darla’s voice echoed around him. He was on the floor now, kneeling next to Buffy, hands trembling, heart torn in two. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t…. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words, just great heaving sobs as he tried to make sense of what this was. What happened?

 

Buffy, his beloved Buffy, dead at his feet.

 

There was so much blood, coating her beautiful skin, staining her golden hair, marring her lips, cheeks, breasts. Angel felt no hunger at the scent, no desire at the sight but to take his lover and bathe her, to clean her of the taint. But he couldn’t move. He was trapped there, hands red with her blood, unable to say anything but her name, do anything but rock back and forth, holding her close.

 

Darla was suddenly crouching next to him, smiling. Her white, white hand reached out to smooth back his hair. “Darling boy, so young. Still so very young.”

 

With a gasp, Angel woke. For one frantic minute he groped for Buffy, but she wasn’t there. In the next frenzied moment, he searched his apartment. In the third moment, blind with terror, he remembered…

 

Buffy had left yesterday. She’d gone back to Sunnydale and her duties there. Back to her school, friends, Joyce. Back to Riley.

 

Was that what caused his dream? Knowing that Riley was there? Waiting for her, eager to feel her against him, touching him? A low growl broke free from the control he’d held for so long. Rage rose within him, at himself, Buffy, the Initiative, the Watcher’s Council, Fate, Destiny…

 

All he’d wanted was a life with the woman he loved. It was what everyone deserved, human, demon, and his hybrid self alike; yet here he was, forced into a charade that tested the limits of even his impressive control. He was expected to share his lover with a human idiot because of…hell, too many things he didn’t want to think of.

 

Or had this dream been something else, a portent of things to come? Of what the monster, Adam as he was so aptly called, would do to her?

 

“No,” he said firmly in the empty apartment, willing himself calmer. Control, so long prized, returned, and he sat on the edge of the bed. “Nothing will happen to her. I won’t let it.”

 

The sound of his voice, so confident with his conviction, echoed around the room. Restless now, awake, Angel grabbed his workout pants and padded for the gym area. He’d call Buffy later, once she was back from class. No need to interrupt her class with a ringing cell phone. No need to worry her with this. Whatever this was.

 

“A dream,” he murmured, wrapping his knuckles. “Nothing more.”

 

It wasn’t only a dream. Worse, it was a memory. It was a memory of the violence he was capable of, the dismissive killing. It was probably Kate’s feelings and reactions to her father than brought it on, that pushed the memory to the surface like that…

 

Angel knew it wasn’t. Not all of it. He’d never really confronted that part of his past. Not only the beginning demonic ones, but the drunken human ones. He hadn’t returned to Ireland in over two hundred and fifty years, and yet now it seemed to be where they were heading once Adam and the Initiative were taken care of.

 

It’d been Buffy’s suggestion, one made with curious, knowing eyes, but no comment. Cordelia had jumped at the offer – not that one had been made – and invited herself along for making the reservations and dealing with rude agents.

 

Liam Angelus Angel was going home. And he had no idea what was going to greet him there.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Where is he, Cordelia?” Buffy asked for the fifth time.

 

Cordy glanced at Wes, terror clear in her eyes. What was she supposed to say? They’d lost Angel? As in seriously lost him – nowhere to be found, no indication as to what happened to him except he went to see a bookie and now wasn’t any place? Any place, any place? Not answering his cell, which he kept with him at all times for his all-important Buffy-calls. Not checking in, nothing.

 

And if Buffy hadn’t heard from him…

 

Covering the mouthpiece, Cordy whispered to Wes, “We are so screwed.” To Buffy she tried for less panic. And wasn’t sure it worked too well. “He’s on a case, Buffy!” She smiled, hoping it would come across over the phone as all her not at-the-moment-helpful magazines always claimed.

 

“I’m sure he just turned his phone off for a little bit so he could, ah, help our client. You know Angel…” she so needed a drink, “Always helping.”

 

“Cordelia,” and now she knew Buffy’s teeth were clenched. Was that creaking the sound of plastic crunching under slayer strength?

 

“I’m sure – no positive! – that he’ll call you the moment all is right in the world and another person in need is saved.”

 

Before Buffy had the chance to say, or do, anything else, Cordy chirped, “Oh, another call. Gotta go!” And slammed down the phone.

 

“Wesley,” she whirled on him, threatening and scared. “If we don’t find Angel soon, Buffy’s going to kill us all.”

 

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” he soothed, but was already rummaging through a mess of weapons. “Still, just to be on the safe side…”

 

“Bookie?”

 

“Bookie,” Wes confirmed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Angel had arrived outside her dorm two hours ago, disheveled, dirty, with various healing cuts, bruises, and one very long gash along his belly. It was already late, so easy for Buffy to slip out and meet him. He’d said nothing when she found him, now waiting near his car, merely taken her into his arms and kissed her until she forgot what she’d wanted to say to him and wrapped her arms tighter around him, kissing him back with every drop of passion she could put into that kiss.

 

Ten minutes – and one near tree collision – later, and they’d been screaming each other’s name as they made love at their home.

 

“You were where?” Buffy demanded, stretching on their bed. The sheet shifted lower, exposing the round of one breast.

 

“Gladiator ring,” he repeated with a frown. But then shrugged it away, as always, drawn to the tempting sight of her flesh. “No cell phone signal.”

 

“They lost you, you mean?” Buffy growled, then sighed, fingers combing through his hair, as Angel’s mouth closed over her nipple.

 

“Well, no. But they did find me faster than I expected; they were afraid of you.” He flung the sheet away, blanketing her body with his instead. Angel combed his fingers through her hair, the tip of his cock teasing her slick heat. “Actually, I was surprised you weren’t with them, love.”

 

“Had Cordelia said they’d lost you and needed help finding you again, I would’ve been, Angel.” Buffy huffed, but it ended on a moan of need when Angel’s teeth bit hard on her nipple. “She swore all was right in the world, and you were just fine, helping someone in need, and would of course call when you could.”

 

“You believed her?” the laugh rumbled against her neck.

 

“You know something’s wrong,” Buffy intoned wisely, “when Cordelia doesn’t snip at you…should’ve figured that. But my thoughts of you undercover in a strip club don’t exactly match reality, do they.”

 

“Strip club, lover?” he looked up in question, that adorable eyebrow raised. More distressingly, he’d stopped his homage to her body, and was now perfectly still. “You thought I was undercover in a strip club?”

 

“Well, no, but I was trying to stay alive and fight Adam. Then Anya said something about LA, then she and Spike got all into it with various scenarios and…and now that I think about it, they were probably trying to make me feel better. Keep my mind off things with confusion and hilarity.”

 

“Spike making anyone feel better…the mind boggles,” Angel shrugged and went back to slowly tasting each inch of her hip.

 

“I made Wesley and Cordelia swear that next time they’ll tell you the truth and risk it. Apparently, they, especially Cordelia, were terrified you’d blame them.” he said against her belly, “And I quote, ‘If Buffy thought we did anything to not help you when we’re supposed to be your little team, your friends, not only would we never live it down, but she’d probably feed us to the Initiative or the Council or something equally horrible. Now call her.’”

 

This time, his laugh was muffled against her thigh. Buffy chuckled at that and arched her hips against his mouth in silent plea. “I like the visit better than the call,” she conceded, smiling.

 

Finding her clit with his teeth and tongue, Angel had to agree.

 

Later, when thought was again possible, he asked. He hadn’t wanted to. He did, not because he wanted to know, but because he had to. Desperately, desperately needed to know.

 

“How’s Riley?”

 

Buffy was silent for a long moment. She turned to face him, watching him with assessing eyes, darkened from their normal green in the half-light coming from a bedside lamp. “He’s in love with me, if that’s what you mean. Or close to it.”

 

Angel snarled, but waited for her to go on.

 

“Angel,” Buffy reached a hesitant hand out to touch him, but dropped it before she could. She swallowed, never breaking eye contact with him.

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say. That we’re getting along fine? It depends on your definition. If by ‘fine’ you mean: We hang out on campus – with Willow as chaperone of course because I refuse to be alone with him more than I am, and no one wants that, either – and talk about school and his past, not mine for obvious reasons, and go out on patrol – don’t get me started on that, please; trust me when I say it’ll turn into a rant. If you need to know, ask Spike. I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you in every gory pathetic detail.”

 

“Spike? Good.”

 

“Good?” Buffy parroted, momentarily diverted from her outburst. “What do you mean, good?”

 

“If Spike’s with you, that means he’s doing his job. And I won’t have to torture him for failing his Sire and his Sire’s Mate.”

 

Buffy snorted a giggle, but nodded solemnly. “Oh, he’s there, alright. Silent and stealthy, or as much as his running commentary allows. Good thing none of the others have super hearing.”

 

“Hmm,” Angel nodded. “Yes…”

 

“Riley’s on drugs.”

 

That brought him up short, and he stared at her, confused. “What? Mr. Soldier Boy is on drugs?” His eyes narrowed as he thought of what could’ve happened to let Buffy know Riley was doing drugs. “How do you know?”

 

“I was at Willie’s, talking with some of the vamps there and testing the conviction of a few more demons who haven’t yet agreed with us. Willie heard that same rumor you had, about the Council, but no one knew anything else. Just that they were involved, and, if I wasn’t working for them, then something serious had to have happened. Riley showed up.”

 

“And did what?” Angel demanded.

 

And proceeded to seriously threaten everything they’d worked so hard for. Riley had threatened the occupants, Willie, and anyone not remotely human. When one of the intellectuals of the group said that Buffy, as the slayer, was a supernatural being, Riley had turned not to the speaking vampire, but to Buffy. sweaty from withdrawal, from power stripped from him.

 

The vamp was dusted by Spike, who lurked in the shadows, before Riley turned away from Buffy to once more scan the room.

 

“Good,” Angel nodded again, gathering her atop him so he could look at her while she recounted the tale. “Spike knows his job, his place. So does everyone else now, as well. Rumors of you won’t circulate again, at least not in California.”

 

“Yeah, Spike seemed pretty proud of that. His speech was touching, too, but we won’t describe that. It got a little sappy at the end.”

 

“So,” Angel prompted, though there was a gleam of laughter in his eyes over Spike. “Riley?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

So this was the new boytoy, eh?

 

Not bad looking, she supposed. All tall and blonde. Still, she wouldn’t have expected B to give up dark and broody so easily. Amazing what a few months could do, wasn’t it? The changes were there, she could feel them in the air, crawling along her skin, and yet some things didn’t change.

 

The little Scooby gang, for instance. Faith didn’t know the woman with Xander, and wondered, in that vague abstract way one does, where Cordelia was, but other than that, they were exactly the same. Gathering around Buffy as if she was their goddess, to be worshipped and obeyed.

 

The watcher listened, injecting only a comment now and then. Hmm, that’d changed...or maybe not. Giles knew how to steer, Faith experienced that first hand. He knew when to say what needed to be said, and when a simple comment was sufficient.

 

The best part was that none of them knew she was outside, listening.

 

Buffy leaned against the fireplace mantle, pressing fingertips to tired eyes. She didn’t look good, Faith noted. Tired, stressed. Buffy didn’t let apocalypses or even everyday evil stress her. She was always so calm, so focused. What had her looking like this? And why did Faith care?

 

The beefcake watched her, however, looking concerned. Strangely enough, the Scoobies avoided looking at both of them. What the hell was going on here? Since when were the Scoobs not concerned with how their precious Buffy was?

 

“He’s probably working off an autonomic power source. Because straight out of the box, he needs to charge up awhile.”

 

“Okay,” Buffy nodded, straightening. Now this was the B Faith remembered. Take charge, kick ass…well, not with the human sitting there, but still. “What’s he charging up for, then?”

 

Giles disappeared into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a mug of tea for Buffy. Always the protective watcher, wasn’t he. Bastard. He’d be next on her list.

 

“Based on the clues,” Xander offered, “I’ll go with killing spree.” But even his eyes were carefully averted from the newcomer, and he seemed more jittery than normal.

 

“And that’s a best-case scenario. I suppose a little firepower would be a good idea right now.”

 

“Riley’s right,” Willow said, but looked uncomfortable. Riley? That was his name, Riley? Buffy and Riley…it sounded so homespun Iowan it was pathetic. Where did she get this boy? “We’re going to need something stronger than normal.”

 

“Stronger than TNT?” Xander asked. “Because that was ever so fun. Stronger than a wooden table leg? Stronger than a blessed swor- ah, I mean, yeah, Willow.” He nodded eagerly now, taking a cookie. “You’re probably right.”

 

“Blessed sword?” Riley asked, sitting back in his chair, pulling Buffy to the arm of it. She stiffened for a moment, then swallowed and seemed to force herself to relax. Gingerly, she pushed Riley’s hair back and kissed his temple.

 

“Since Professor Walsh designed it,” Willow said, uncomfortable now. “Any chance she left instructions lying around somewhere?”

 

“If she did,” Buffy shrugged, swallowed again, squeezed Riley’s shoulder, and stood. “They’re going to be in the Initiative.”

 

“Which,” Giles pointed out as he sipped his own tea, “We can’t get into without mounting a major offensive.”

 

“Speak for yourself.” The gang turned sharply to look at Riley, and he shrugged in that cocky, overconfident way people with no real power had. What was the Initiative and just what did they have to do with B and her little gang? “I’m just saying.”

 

Giles nodded slowly, eyes straying to Buffy’s. What the hell was going on here? “I must admit, a man on the inside would be, uh…”

 

“A really good idea.” But she was shaking her head again, rubbing her forehead as if she had a headache. Riley didn’t notice, the woman with Xander snorted in laughter and stood, walking to the kitchen. “Are you sure you want to be double-agent guy?”

 

“I’m not exactly sure what you’d call me,” Riley said, looking proud and somehow confused. What a weird guy. “But I will share information. It’s the least I could do.”

 

“Yes,” Xander nodded, another cookie in hand. “Riley’s right. It is the absolute least he can do.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“She’s awake,” Buffy whispered over the phone, glancing over her shoulder to where Riley sat in Giles’ living room, content to be part of the group, oblivious as to the dynamics. “Faith...she’s awake.”

 

“When?” Angel’s voice floated over the line, warm and reassuring, yet oddly demanding for information. Was it, Buffy wondered, because he hadn’t been able to reach Faith last year? Hadn’t been able to help her? Felt the failure in that, as Buffy did…or had before her sister tried to kill her lover.

 

Or was it something more, something to do with her, Buffy. Specifically them…and the way things were between them.

 

“Day or so ago. I’m not sure, the report from the hospital isn’t clear. Giles thinks the Council already knows.”

 

“They probably do,” he agreed, a tired sigh reaching her.

 

“What’s wrong, Angel?” she asked, worried. “Everything okay in LA?”

 

But that wasn’t what she wanted to know, and they both knew that. Since beginning the ruse to date Riley and discover what 3-1-4 was really all about, their relationship was strained. Buffy’d gone to LA once in the ensuing weeks, and Angel had made a trip to Sunnydale, but things were awkward. She’d kept her vow not to sleep with Riley, though that did little good, and they both knew that.

 

She still talked to him, kissed him – Angel was right about that, there was no way to avoid doing so. She had a picnic with him, too…in the sun, warm and bright, and hadn’t ever been so grateful to Willow when she’s interrupted it. She’d nearly kissed her friend, but had restrained herself – Riley would’ve wondered, and that was one more thing Buffy hadn’t wanted to explain.

 

It was the fact she was seeing him, was, in effect, cheating on Angel, that mattered. He knew of it, knew the reasons, but knowing didn’t ease the strain. Or the fact that Buffy was with someone else.

 

“Angel?” she asked softly.

 

“I hate this,” he growled abruptly. “I hate that you’re doing this. I hate that you’re sneaking a call now, with him right there. Playing it off like I’m nothing. Hiding in a corner like a thief.”

 

Buffy shut her eyes, swallowing tears. He knew, of course he had. She was calling from Giles’ house, voice quiet despite his vampiric hearing, and he knew.

 

“I hate it, too,” she whispered, voice tight with emotion. “You have no idea. Or maybe you do. I feel hollow inside, empty when you’re not here, like I’m missing a piece of myself. I hate it, I hate that I have to do this, but I swear, Angel,” she promised him, voice fierce in its quietness, “I’d do it again and again, I’d do anything to keep you safe. But I miss you so much...”

 

“I know, baby,” Angel’s voice was softer now, tinged with remorse. “God, I’m sorry. I’m just...I love you. Don’t worry, love,” his voice softened further, the Irish lilt of it soothing. “It’ll be over soon. And we’ll go away someplace, just the two of us, and not worry about any of this. I’ll show you Ireland,” he promised. “The stretches of open land, the moors, the sea.”

 

“As soon as this is done?” she sniffled, swallowed, then stronger. Promise?”

 

“As soon as this is done,” he promised quietly.

 

“I have to take care of Faith,” she whispered, listening to the voices coming from the living room. Riley was asking questions – what was taking her so long, who was this contact, why did she have to call him now? Who else knew about Faith that needed to be called in privacy?

 

“And I don’t know how long it’ll take,” she continued. “But afterwards, I’ll come up?”

 

“Yes,” his voice was hoarse.

 

“I love you, Angel,” Buffy told him, but stood.

 

“And I, you, lennán, mo croi, mo beatha.” Lover, my heart, my life.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“What’d you tell Riley?” Willow asked as they wandered campus.

 

“The truth. That she’s my evil cousin from Boston and whenever she visits wackiness ensues.”

 

“I love an honest relationship, don’t you?” Willow laughed.

 

“Nah, I had to tell him something! So I edited. Strongly. In fact,” Buffy paused, then frowned as she slowly looked around the area. Something was off. It wasn’t Angel, no, he’d have called. Plus, not her Angel-sense.

 

Faith.

 

“Any more editing, and I could’ve sold it as a purely fictional story. Complete with heroes, romance, fighting, escapes, miracles, and…” she smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant sight. “The villain herself.”

 

“B,” Faith nodded serenely.

 

“Faith. Long time no see. Are you all right?”

 

“You know me,” Faith shrugged. “Five by five despite the coma.”

 

“You’d have done the same, given the chance.”

 

“So let’s have another go at it.  See who lands on top.”

 

“Always wanted to be the Dom, eh?” Faith snorted at that. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Faith, we could…”

 

“What, B? Help each other? That worked so well last time.” Faith paused, watched her with quiet dark eyes. They used to tell her so much, but now Buffy wasn’t sure what was happening behind Faith’s look. It was starting to freak her out.

 

“You did it for a guy; and what happens? I wake up to find that you’re not even dating the guy you were so nuts about before.  Moved on to the first college beef stick you met, eh?  Not only have you forgotten the love of your life, but the chick you nearly killed for him.  So tell me, college girl…what does it mean?”

 

“Mostly,” Buffy responded, slipping off her own backpack, never breaking eye contact with Faith. Faith waited for Buffy to do just that, waited for them to be even. And that was strange. “That you still mouth off about things you don’t understand.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Faith!” Cordelia shouted, jumping up from where she crouched next to Wesley and Rebecca.

 

It was one thing to know the killer slayer was awake and wrecking havoc in Sunnydale. Quite another to see her face to face, in Los Angeles, with nary a superhero in sight.

 

“Cordelia,” Faith said, breathless as if she’d just run from Sunnydale to LA. Didn’t matter. Cordelia was not in the mood and taking no chances. This was so not her day.

 

“Where’s Angel?” Faith asked, looking lost and disheveled.

 

“Angel?” Cordelia squeaked with a glance at the elevator that connected Angel Investigations with Angel’s apartment. “What makes you think he’s here?”

 

Faith gave her an odd look, as if she was wondering what house dropped on Cordelia’s head to make her so stupid. “Cordelia,” Faith said slowly, walking towards the desk. “Don’t start with me. I’ve had a really bad day – Faith, as you can no doubt see, is not only awake, but in my body! Now where’s Angel?”

 

God, not only was psycho girl psycho, now she was downright loony! “Look,” Cordelia said, backing away. She stumbled on Rebecca’s outstretched legs, and cursed. “Damn it, Rebecca, pull yourself together – we have more important things to worry about than your life.”

 

Faith stilled, eyes narrowed at Rebecca. Which made no sense to Cordelia; what did Faith care about an actress who wanted Angel to turn her? Buffy, yes. Faith, no. No sense whatsoever. “Rebecca?” Faith growled, taking an angry step for the hysterical woman.

 

“Faith,” Wesley said, standing next to Cordelia, trying to shield Rebecca as well. “I realize that it’s been a while, but really-”

 

“I’m not Faith!” Faith shouted between clenched teeth. “I’m-”

 

“Hello, lover.”

 

For long, precious moments, the room stilled. Rebecca’s crying sounded in the small space, out of control and frenzied as she curled further into the corner she tried to hide in, but no one else moved. Slowly, ever so slowly, Faith turned to stare at Angel…at Angelus.

 

“What happened?” she demanded, eyes on Angelus, her question directed at Wesley or Cordelia.

 

“What, not happy to see me, Buff?” Angelus said, swaggering into the room. He stopped and stared at who he was more than a little certain was his lover. In someone else’s body. Tilting his head, and raising that eyebrow Buffy loved so much, he smirked. “Though I have to say, the new look? Not you.”

 

“Hello, Angel!” Cordelia snapped, clearly forgetting it was Angelus she talked to, not Angel. “Not Buffy – Faith. Repeat after me,” she sounded out, “Faaiiith.”

 

‘Faith’ glared at Cordelia, but immediately returned her attention to Angelus. “I repeat, lover, what happened?”

 

Angelus didn’t answer, but crossed the room and grabbed Buffy by the arms, pulling her against his chest. Kissing her quickly and brutally, he tasted her – Buffy. Her body was wrong, her lips not the same, but it was Buffy he tasted.

 

For a blind moment, Buffy kissed him back, taking what he offered her, needing it more than she thought. Sanity, not something she had considering the nightmare of the last day, crashed back onto her shoulders at Rebecca’s clumsy attempts to stand and hit Angelus with a chair.

 

“Back off, bitch,” Buffy snarled, knocking the chair out of Rebecca’s hands and pushing her back against the wall. Then proceeded to hit Angelus herself. She didn’t let up, couldn’t. Through tears she had no control over fell, though her body felt weaker, Buffy didn’t back down.

 

Angelus laughed. Blocked, struck back, enjoyed the game – wanted more. And it was only because Buffy in Faith’s body threw him, that he didn’t see Wesley aim the dart gun at him and fire the tranq.

 

“Angel!” Buffy/Faith said, cradling him as another dart struck, and he crumbled to the floor.

 

“The world is a confused mess of a place,” Cordelia commented. “And I’m the only sane one.”

 

“Cordy,” Faith/Buffy said, looking over at her shoulder. “Can you call Giles and tell him I’m here? That I’m here in Faith’s body, okay?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Cordelia nodded, already reaching for the phone. “This job keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

It didn’t take long for Buffy to chain Angel to their bed. Cordelia and Wesley, who hadn’t really met Angelus before and wasn’t prepared for it, wanted to make sure he never rose, but she vetoed that.

 

“I don’t think mummifying him to the bed is going to help at all,” Buffy snapped. “And put that gun away, Cordy! I told you. Me, Buffy – Faith's in my body, currently not on the run from the Council, and sleeping in my bed!”

 

Cordelia didn’t lower the gun, but did relax. Buffy figured that was as good as she was going to get, and didn’t much care. She shooed everyone out, first instructing Wes to take care of Rebecca before she, Buffy, got her hands on her – Faith or her own – for doing something as stupid as drugging a master vampire.

 

Running a gentle hand through Angel’s hair, Buffy kissed him softly on the lips, and curled atop him in her accustomed spot. She didn’t fit as well as she did in her own body.

 

“Faith wasn’t made for you,” she whispered, tugging the blanket over them. “I was.”

 

When Angel woke a couple hours later, surprise was a tame adjective to describe his reaction. He was chained to the bed, half-naked, a warm body on top of him, not Buffy’s, and he couldn’t remember how he got that way. There was a vague and quickly returning memory of Rebecca and drugs, but that was for later. One question at a time.

 

“Faith?” He demanded, then stopped. Tilting his head to the side, he said more slowly, “Buffy?”

 

“Yeah,” Faith/Buffy sighed, looking back at him with large, dark eyes that looked like Faith’s but didn’t. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Confused,” he said immediately. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”

 

“She switched on me, Angel,” Buffy said. “Used something to take my body. The cops-” her voice hitched and Angel started at the sight, trying to adjust, and wished he could hold her.

 

“Baby, unchain me. I need to touch you.”

 

For a minute, Angel didn’t think she was going to, but then she reached for the table and the key. With a grunt at the tingling in his arms, Angel gathered Buffy closer, and reveled in the feeling. It didn’t feel like Faith, though there was a lot off to the body. No, this was Buffy.

 

“They drugged me,” Buffy continued, head once more resting on his chest. “And the Council – they’re in Sunnydale, too. They weren’t going to bring me back to England. They were going to kill me.”

 

“Does Giles know this?”

 

“Yes.” Buffy paused, scrunched up her nose as Buffy did, and whatever few doubts he had left that the woman in his arms wasn’t his lover disappeared. “Well, he knows I’m in Faith’s body. I, ah, I didn’t get the chance to tell him about the Council. Too busy with the escaping and the driving to LA.”

 

“Shh, baby,” Angel whispered, stroking her back, through her long dark hair, the skin that did and did not feel the same. She felt different, taller, heavier, it was odd, the disproportion when he knew Buffy was in his arms. “Tell me what happened.”

 

“Tell me why you were drinking champagne with the actress.”

 

“Politeness,” Angel smiled, kissed her. Yeah, Angelus was right. She tasted like Buffy.

 

Angel did note that Buffy hadn’t asked why Angelus was there – either Wesley explained about the drug, or she had come to the same conclusion he had. Angelus was still there – Angel heard him often, usually ranting in his head. His soul was bound, but still shared a body with the demon. It was the only way for either to still live, though that was a theory he didn’t want to test.

 

“She wanted to celebrate…” he frowned, shrugged. “Something. I had a few sips, and then everything went black.”

 

“Let this be a lesson,” Buffy said in a somber tone, but there was a smile in her brown eyes, a curve to her lips. “Don’t ever drink with – or from – anyone but me.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

She sauntered across the room, dropping the bag at the door; it contained Faith’s special present for Buffy.

 

Oh, the blonde had escaped the cops, no surprise there – she’d even, according to Xander who had blurted it out before Anya and Willow ushered him out of Giles’ – escaped the Council.

 

Pity.

 

She was not, however, going to escape Faith’s ultimate retribution. And now, watching Riley’s eager eyes follow her slow, sultry movements as she wandered around the room, was the perfect time. It’d have been better if Riley was Angel – man, the look on B’s face then! But, alas, this was going to have to do.

 

She’d heard Angel was in LA, doing good deeds or some shit like that. She’d have to pay him a little visit then. For old time’s sake.

 

“Riley,” Faith cooed in Buffy’s voice. She ran her hands from thigh to breast, cupping their weight in her hands. Faith didn’t look down, no that would’ve been too much even for her – to fuck Riley in Buffy’s body and see it was Buffy’s body was almost like a ménage. Hmm, now there was a thought…

 

But, no, little miss prude, despite her power, the power both slayers had, the power they could create together, would never go for that. Shame.

 

“Do you want me?” She whispered, fingers toying with her nipples. They were hard and aching, and Faith wondered if that was because she hadn’t had a good fuck in so long, she was so turned on with betraying Buffy, or B’s body really did want Riley. How’d that work, anyway?

 

Riley nodded, eyes glued to the scene before him. Glancing down faster than Riley realized, Faith noted his erection and smiled. Impressive. Yes, he’d be good, long and thick, and at her mercy – Faith envisioned a nice long night full of mind numbing orgasms.

 

One hand trailed down her belly – Buffy’s belly – and brushed her core, once, twice. Faith desperately wanted to come, wanted to tease herself until she couldn’t take it any more, wanted to pump her fingers in and out until she passed out. Wanted Riley’s big fingers in her, stretching muscles that hadn’t had a good workout is way too long. His hard cock thrusting in and out, as she rode him hard and fast.

 

First thing’s first.

 

“Close your eyes, baby,” she whispered. Near the bed now, Faith pushed him onto the mattress, situating him perfectly. She didn’t want to miss a shot.

 

Hushing his protests and questions, Faith grabbed her bag and got out her toys. Four nipple clams; for her of course, the better to feel with as she doubted Riley was into kink, and, because she was into kink, two for Riley, too. Three silk scarves, the better to tie Riley with – one for each arm, one to hold both legs together. Two anal plugs, one for each of them. And one video camera. The better for B to remember this for posterity.

 

“Ready, baby?” Faith purred next to his ear, camera already rolling.

 

Riley, fully aroused and more than ready, nodded. “Yes.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Buffy curled against Angel, once more in her body, never so happy to be her.

 

Riley, well, they hadn’t explained anything to Riley yet, though Spike had gone to watch the commando. Just to make sure he wasn’t around when Angel was, or wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t be, or could get them all into trouble. Spike hadn’t been happy with that; his reasoning was that since he’d been the one to alert everyone else to Faith’s switch when Buffy was still being held by the Council, he shouldn’t be punished with Riley duty.

 

No one listened.

 

Joyce was fine, Faith hadn’t harmed her at all, seemingly remembering all the times Joyce was nice to her. Confused, Joyce was definitely confused, but that was par for the mom of a slayer course, and she now went with the flow. It was easier that way.

 

As for Faith…

 

“She’s gone, I’m afraid,” Giles said. He handed Buffy her mug of tea and a tumbler of Scotch to Wesley. “Willie hasn’t heard anything, either.”

 

“She’s going to LA,” Buffy said firmly. “She’s going after you, Angel.”

 

Angel nodded, glanced down at her. Kissing her forehead, he took her hand in his. “I know. I’ll be waiting.” He paused, squeezed her hand, then admitted, “I’m going to try to help her.”

 

Buffy stiffened, shot him a hard look. “Why? She tried to kill you. She took over my body. Tried to kill me!”

 

“I know, beloved,” he whispered, kissing her gently, quickly. “I know, I’m…God, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop that.” Angel rested his forehead against hers for a moment, kissed her again. Happy to kiss Buffy’s lips, feel her body, touch her skin.

 

“I have to try.”

 

Because he’d failed before. Because his failure had led to this. Because he was Angel, and that was what he did.

 

Before Buffy had a chance to say anything more, Xander, Anya, Cordelia, Willow, and Tara entered.

 

“So we went by your house, first, Buff,” Xander started, holding out a package. “And your mom had this for you.”

 

“I don’t know why we went there,” Anya sat on the stool by the counter, her preferred seat, and picked up a cookie. “I told you she’d be here.”

 

“A videotape?” Giles asked seeing what Buffy’d opened.

 

“I don’t want to know,” she said honestly. “I really, really don’t. Whatever Faith wanted to tell me on a tape, can’t be good.”

 

“How do you know it’s from Faith?” Willow inquired.

 

“I know,” Buffy nodded.

 

Still, a moment later the tape was in the VCR Giles had grudgingly bought, and playing.

 

“Oh…” Willow started.

 

“My…” Xander said.

 

“God…” Cordelia finished.

 

“Buffy!” Anya shouted. “You slept with Riley?”

 

“No!” Buffy looked pale and disgusted. “Ew, no! I wouldn’t do that. This…oh, God.” She turned to Angel who looked less than pleased. No, he couldn’t believe she’d slept with Riley, could he? No, no, he couldn’t. She hadn’t, had been with him… “Faith. Faith did this when she switched my body.”

 

Buffy looked back at the TV as if drawn to the evil pictures. Shuddering, she covered her eyes. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

 

The gang looked on in horrified shock, mouths slightly agape, eyes large and glued to the images on the screen. “Burn it,” Giles whispered in a hoarse voice, and went to pour himself another tumbler of Scotch.

 

Angel said nothing. He growled, low and menacing, and calmly took the tape out. Just as calmly, he crushed it into unrecognizable pieces. Still without a word, he took Buffy’s hand, and left.

 

“I think I’m blind,” Cordy croaked, grabbing Wesley’s drink and gulping it in one swallow.

 

“Spike’s going to be sorry he missed that,” Xander said, looking pale and ill, in the heavy silent aftermath of the couple’s exit.

 

 

 

 

Part Six

Never Speak Of It – Ever!

 

 

“I still don’t like it,” she pouted, but didn’t move from her position.

 

Considering how comfortable she was, stretched out over Angel’s coolness, how could she even think such a thing? Move? Ha, never. Still, Buffy did force her head up, plopping it lazily on her hand to better look at her lover.

 

“You don’t have to like it,” Angel said quietly, one hand slowly stroking up and down her back. Comfort during a conversation they’d rather not have. Were having because they couldn’t leave it between them, unspoken. “But I do want you to accept it.”

 

“I do.” She paused, sighed. “I don’t like it, but I understand. Even though she tried to kill you, kill all of us actually, but you twice – maybe three times, have to double-check that. She stole my body, and twice raped me – first when she switched, and then…with Riley…and…ugh.”

 

Buffy couldn’t go on, the brief memory of the few seconds of video of she/Faith and Riley were enough to last her several lifetimes and make her stomach churn each time that horrible image dared pop up in her traitorous mind’s eye. It was disgusting. And made her feel dirty and used. But she also couldn’t look at Angel, too afraid he’d blame her.

 

Angel tightened his hold on her, growling. “Don’t speak of that,” he ordered. “I don’t care if it was Faith or not. Finn thought it was you.”

 

Oh, God, he did blame her. Did think it was her with Riley. Sniffling back the tears that Angel thinking she’d willingly do anything remotely like that with Riley brought, Buffy tried to move out of his arms. She didn’t blame him, not at all, yet knowing Angel somehow thought she wanted to be with anyone but him, was enough to destroy everything they’d worked for, worked towards, these past months.

 

That quickly, everything she’d ever wanted for them, the future she’d envisioned for them, fell before her, shards of broken dreams. Shreds of torn hope.

 

“You blame me,” she whispered, heartbroken.

 

“No.” He refused to let her go, held her to him as if he realized what she thought.

 

Probably did, too, Buffy thought, reassured, but still couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t face him knowing what Riley thought. That he wanted a repeat of Faith’s kink-fest. She’d put him off, explaining how that wasn’t her, that Faith had switched bodies. That, until she could work through knowing her ‘boyfriend’ had slept with a woman not her, any sexual relationship between them wasn’t happening.

 

“No, love, I don’t blame you, never think that.” Releasing a breath of air he didn’t need, but one that told her just how much Faith’s little ‘trick’ had upset him, Angel drew her closer. He was quiet for a while, simply holding her. They didn’t speak, and in those few moments, Buffy forgot her splintered dreams, the bright future she wanted with Angel once more shining before them.

 

“God, I’m sorry, Buffy. I don’t blame you, don’t ever think that. I just hate,” he paused, buried his face against her shoulder. And when he spoke again, his lips caressed her mark. “I hate that it even happened. That Faith did that to you, that she,” again he stopped, voice thick with emotion.

 

“A part of me wants to chain her up and torture her until she knows what it feels like to be violated like that,” he confessed in a harsh, ragged voice, muffled against her skin. “I want to teach her the last lesson she’ll ever remember. I want to break her into a thousand emotional pieces, only to build her back up until all she knows is how to be a slave to you, my love.”

 

Buffy held him close, silent as he confessed things she knew, knew without having to be told, without having him to confess them, that he never wanted her to know. Never. The fact that he was telling her these things now made her hope.

 

This was the last (second to last, but she’d never have the courage to confess that very last barrier) sticking point between them. The last thing they needed to overcome, this truth of what they were capable of and what they wouldn’t do because they were capable of it.

 

“It scares me more than I can say, knowing that I can do this, that I have it within me. No,” he drew back, looked into her eyes, his own black with knowledge. Pleading with her to understand. Hungry for her, all of her, her body and soul and heart and life. “No, it doesn’t scare me that I can do that, all that and so much more. But that, with only a word from you, I will. In less than one of Faith’s heartbeats, I will do all that for you and more.”

 

Raking his hands through her hair, Angel brought her close for a kiss, brutal, hard, hungry. “I need you more than words can ever describe, Buffy. I can’t survive without you. I tried, and all it did was make me miserable, I messed things up; I was distant with people, I didn’t care what happened to me or them, or this world. All I cared about was every second you weren’t with me. All I care about is you.”

 

“I know,” Buffy admitted quietly, her own voice heavy with the knowledge of what they were capable of. With fear of losing him. “I know, Angel. I only care about you, you’re all that matters. That’s why I’m doing this stupid plan. Because I want, no, I need, but that’s still not a strong enough word.” She paused, swallowed, came thisclose to confessing that last thing between them…but simply said, “If you’re not safe, Angel, then nothing else matters. Not me, not this world, nothing and no one. Without you…”

 

She couldn’t go on, shook her head and brought his mouth back to hers for another kiss. Let that tell him just how much she needed him. “I can’t survive without you, love, and if the world rots, then so be it.”

 

Angel turned them, then, captured her hands and held them tight with his own as he took her, willingly, on their bed. Wesley was probably in by now, and Cordelia would arrive shortly. There were nests to take out and demons to track. There was Buffy’s safety to see to, and this plan to finish. He had to consult with Willie and make sure everyone knew their part in the plan to overthrow the Initiative.

 

Angel didn’t care. All he knew was Buffy, all he tasted was Buffy, all he saw, heard, scented, needed was her; he’d almost lost her. Couldn’t lose her, would destroy this world and everyone in it to keep her safe.

 

Entering her with a growl, catching her breath with his mouth, Angel moved hard and fast, thrusting in and out, felt her legs wrap around his waist, holding him closer, urging him faster, silently begging for more.

 

Bit down with blunt teeth on her mark, growling in satisfaction when she arched against him.

 

“Yes,” she hissed, neck turned for him, an offering, a promise. “Angel, yes.”

 

Reveled in her pants for more, harder, him. Fleetingly wished he’d tied her to their bed, but that could be for another time. Would be.

 

“Please,” she begged, “Angel, please…!”

 

Clamped one hand around both her wrists so he could build up her orgasm once, twice, teasing her to the point of mindless begging. Perfect. His.

 

“Angel,” she sobbed, body wound tight, ready for release, beseeching him for it. Her hips moved against his, grinding down in a desperate search for more.

 

“Angel, Angel, Angel,” She chanted, straining against him. Finally sent her over the edge, watched her stiffen under him, her mouth open in a breathless cry, legs tighter around him, crushing him to her. More.

 

Let himself go, let himself find his own release in her warm, wet body. Bliss.

 

Rolling to the side, Buffy held close to him, his equilibrium steadying, her breathing slowing. Still he wanted more. Body relaxed in satiation, soul calm with her beside him, Angel wanted her again. Could never get enough of her.

 

Cordelia’s heels tapped on the floor above and the scent of coffee drifted down to them, but neither moved. Faint conversation between Cordelia and Wesley buzzed back and forth, but the couple ignored it. Soon enough, they’d have to leave their LA haven and return to Sunnydale and the farce they’d created.

 

Slowly, as if the energy required to do so was too immense for her, Buffy turned her head to look at him. “Don’t leave me, Angel. I couldn’t stand it if you did.”

 

“Never, my love. Never. I can’t leave you.”

 

Satisfied, Buffy let her head roll back, eyes drifting closed. Sleep, sleep in her lover’s arms, and yet there was one last thought before the comfort and sanctuary of Angel took over.

 

The very last barrier between them was hers to confess. Because she wanted everything Angel had. Knew why he was going to help Faith. Because he did want to break her, to rebuild her, to mold her in any image he chose; because of that, he was going to help her, instead.

 

Buffy wanted Faith to pay, and she wanted it to be by her own hand. She wanted to let the Slayer within loose, let the unbound power she knew the Slayer possessed free rein, never to worry about the consequences because she was that which ruled; judge, jury, and executioner.

 

But she’d never confess that to Angel, the one person she could. In doing so, Buffy wasn’t sure where it would lead them, either of them. Except down a path of darkness that would forever reign over the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where’d Buffy go?” Willow asked, looking around the party.

 

This wasn’t her thing, frat parties, what with the absolute horrible luck she had at them. But Riley was there, wanted Buffy to go, Buffy hadn’t wanted to go alone, what with the Faith-switching and the Faith-Riley sleeping and all that horror caught on tape, and so had dragged her and Xander, who had forced Anya to go, who wanted Spike there so the two of them could bond over mocking and laughing.

 

They were even timing it. Well, a few things – betting was rampant among the Scoobies any more, with long distance betting, or whatever Spike called it, happening in LA, too. So with Spike and Anya managing the betting and money – and Willie managing the books for the larger stuff – they’d decided on three bets for tonight.

 

How long before someone from the Initiative noticed Spike was there? How long before Riley approached Buffy and made a fool of himself? How long Buffy held out before she snuck out to call Angel.

 

So far, Xander was winning.

 

All in all, until like three seconds ago when Willow realized Buffy was gone, it was going pretty well.

 

“Oh! Angel!” Willow flapped her hands excitedly.

 

“Maybe that’s where she is,” Anya agreed, peering into her plastic beer cup as if something was growing in it. And hey, frat party on the Hellmouth. Something probably was. “Calling Angel.”

 

“Alone outside?” Spike growled. “Slayer’s gonna get me staked, disappearing like that.” Drowning his own beer, Spike dropped the plastic cup onto the floor, and, still grumbling, went to scout for Buffy.

 

“And wasn’t that the last thing I’d ever have expected to hear out of Spike’s mouth,” Xander commented. “I swear, this has topped the strange year award with the strangest of the strange.”

 

“Year’s not over yet,” Willow pointed out.

 

“Unless you’re talking about the school year,” Anya added. “In which case Buffy owes me fifty dollars.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Willies,” she said as if that explained it all. And, really, it did.

 

“Oh,” Willow nodded, “yeah. When was your bet?”

 

“February 14.”

 

“Valentine’s Day?” Xander laughed. “Ahn, you picked Valentine’s Day? Why?”

 

“Valentine’s Day is a perfect day for an apocalypse!” She defended, frowning into her drink again. “Do you know how many women out there have their hearts broken on Valentine’s Day? Do you know the pain they go through when the person they love turns out to be a complete ass?”

 

She smiled reminiscently, beer forgotten. “Actually, there was this one time when I turned a man into an ass. Pretty funny, too,” she laughed. “Oh, you should’ve heard the noises he made!”

 

The horror on Xander’s face, and the sputtering noises he made caused him to choke on his beer. “Noise?” he coughed. “Ahn! Why…who…? What, huh?”

 

“An ass, Xander,” she huffed with a strange look at her lover. “A donkey?”

 

Willow couldn’t contain her laughter as she, too, realized what Xander had thought. Laughing until she hiccupped, Willow sat on the arm of the couch, trying to catch her breath.

 

“Can’t find her.”

 

Spike’s sharp voice cut through Willow’s mirth, and she looked up at him, confused. Seeing the look on his face, she rapidly switched to concerned. “You can’t find her?” she parroted. “What do you mean? She’s not outside?”

 

Lighting a cigarette, Spike shook his head. Frowning at the butt, he crushed it out under his heel, uncaring of the carpet. Willow watched in amusement, but said nothing. Hey, it wasn’t her house. Standing, she looked around the party. Still no Buffy.

 

“Then where is she?”

 

“I couldn’t catch her scent,” Spike admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Damn. Come on, Red,” he took her by the elbow, in a surprisingly gentlemanly way, and led her through the party. “We’re slayer hunting.”

 

Willingly following him, Willow visually searched while Spike did whatever search vampires did for their prey. Actually, she’d never really thought of it, hadn’t wanted to know. Now, to keep her growing fear for Buffy at bay, she asked. “How do you do that? I mean with so many people in the room, how do you zero in on just one?”

 

Giving her a sidelong look, Spike said, “Slayer’s got a unique scent. Being around her so much…got used to it. But now,” he slowed near the stairs, looked up. “Now, I’m thinking I should’ve made Angel keep her in LA for a bit.”

 

Willow looked up, too. “What? Is she up there?”

 

“Yeah,” he snapped, racing up the steps two at a time. Hastily following, Willow watched as Spike tried to break down the door. “And she’s not,” another shoulder to the door, “alone.”

 

“Uh…” Willow trailed off, fear mounting. “You mean someone’s in there? Angel?”

 

“No.”

 

“A puppy? She’s always wanted one.”

 

“No, Red.” Spike continued battering the door, but it refused to budge. He’d changed to his vampiric features, and a low growl rumbled from his chest.

 

“Oh! Is she studying?” Willow asked, desperately hopeful.

 

Spike stopped, glowering. “Red, you know better than that.”

 

Stricken, Willow paled. She knew who was in Riley’s room with Buffy. And it wasn’t Angel. “Spike, we have to get her out of there,” she locked eyes with the vampire, truly terrified. “What’s she doing in there? Why? Why would she-?” she couldn’t breathe, her heart was pounding way too fast, and her throat constricting. “And, and…eww! And…”

 

Grabbing her shoulders, Spike shook her. “Red! Stop it! You’re not helping, and I’m out of ideas.” Willow nodded, but still had trouble breathing. “Breathe, Red,” Spike said calmer, softer. “Come on, luv, you won’t help anyone this way, and the Slayer needs your help.” He looked over his shoulder at the door. “Desperately needs it.”

 

“Do you suppose it’s a spell?” Willow asked in a small voice. Her eyes were still big, she could feel that, but couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Buffy behind closed doors with Riley, and Spike couldn’t get in to stop them, and-and- and, oh, boy.

 

“Yeah,” Spike dropped his hands. “Other than I can’t break down the door – and come on, shoddy workmanship all over campus – I can smell something wrong in the air.”

 

“How do we get her out?”

 

“I don’t know,” he took her arm again and led her back downstairs, ignoring the amused looks from the children. Heathens the lot of them, and what did they know about his sexual prowess, anyway? Hell, now so wasn’t the time. He had a slayer to rescue and a head to save – his.

 

“Look,” Spike started when they’d reached Xander and Anya. “Here’s the problem.” He looked around at the crowd, noticed too many humans congregating near a wall, and cursed. Pressing fingertips to his eyes, he wondered how he’d managed to get involved in something like this. And what this was. And why, of all times, it had to happen now.

 

Fuck and me.

 

“Slayer’s in Riley’s room. Yes, yes,” he nodded before anyone could say anything. “With the idiot. Yes, probably, but I’m not thinking of that, clear?” they nodded in agreement. “I can’t break the door down, bloody thing won’t budge. I can’t get in – I’ll try the window, but if I can’t get through the door, the window won’t bloody well work, either.”

 

“What’re we going to do?” Anya demanded. “We can’t leave her in there, she could be…” shuddering, she trailed off, unable to say what they were all thinking.

 

“I don’t know. But here’s what we’re not going to do. We’re not,” he said forcibly, determined to keep them all alive, keep the world from ending, keep everyone sane, and never, ever, not once, think about why he was doing it.

 

“We are not,” he repeated, “going to panic. We can do that later,” he assured them with a nod, a spark of amusement lighting his eyes when Xander added his nods. “We’re not going to tell Angel, is that clear?” Everyone nodded again, and Spike relaxed slightly. Maybe he wouldn’t get staked.

 

“I want your solemn oath, on the head of the Slayer, as her dearest, closest friends, that never, ever will you speak of this to Angel. Not under threat of torture, not under alcoholic influence, not because of a spell, not because you think he might possibly already know, and definitely not because you’re a moron. Understood?”

 

He glared at them, waiting. “If I have to burn myself to find a stack of bibles, if I have to find a priest to make it official, or a damned judge, or a notary public, I will. Not. One. Word. Clear?”

 

“We swear,” the three said, right hands all raised as they promised never to repeat any of this. They shuddered again, the four of them, and, almost involuntarily, looked at the ceiling where Buffy was even now under a horrific spell, doing what nobody should have to see with someone no one wanted to think about.

 

Bloody fucking hell.

 

“Good.” With that he turned. “I’m going to try the damned window.”

 

“Why does Spike care so much?” Xander asked when the vampire was out the door.

 

They followed, but more slowly. After all, if they couldn’t break into Riley’s room – best not to go there – then they’d have to leave and find reinforcements, anyway. Like Giles. Or a Faryl demon. Or Cordelia and Wesley. Without Angel knowing. Hmm, Cordelia and Wes as a very, very, absolute last resort then.

 

“Because,” Anya said matter-of-factly, peering at the night sky. It was a nice, clear night, a bit cool, but otherwise nearly perfect. Except for the unutterable hell going on inside the fraternity house. And she thought she’d inflicted shockingly appalling damage over her years. Ah, if only she’d learned of the terrors of the Hellmouth first, imagine what she could’ve done!

 

“He’ll be the first one Angel stakes,” she continued, shaking herself out of her nostalgic reverie. “Spike gave his own vow to Angel, as Angel’s childe, that he’d let nothing happen to Buffy while Angel wasn’t with her. I believe there’s an exchange of blood involved, but I only witnessed it once, and that was like,” she waved a hand, “five hundred years ago.”

 

“Blood?” Xander demanded, a look of sick horror on his suddenly pale face. “Buffy’s?”

 

“No,” Anya impatiently snapped as they waited on the porch. “Geez, Xander, get over that already. Blood between Angel and Spike. As Family, it was easier than say, someone outside the family or clan. But still, it’s pretty serious, especially when freely given as Spike’s was. And Spike, despite his evilness, doesn’t lie. Or, well,” she amended, “he doesn’t break a promise, once given.”

 

“I’ve noticed that,” Willow said quietly as Spike’s roar of anger drifted to them. “I think we better go get him before he draws too much attention to this. And us. And himself. And, man, this is just a big suck of suckiness.”

 

“You said it, Will.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I think I need to sit down,” Giles muttered.

 

“You are,” Xander pointed out.

 

Surprised, Giles looked down. Sure enough… “Well then, bully for me.” He shook his head, reached for the glass of whisky Spike had strangely, and thoughtfully, provided, and drained it in one go. “Are you certain?”

 

“Of course,” Spike snapped.

 

“Yes, yes, well. Ah…” he shook his head. “Xander, if you’d be so kind…?” he gestured with his glass for a refill. “I suppose the first thing to do is find out the history of the house, see if this date is significant, if something like…this,” he frowned, shuddered, “has happened before.”

 

“There’s never been something like this,” Anya said. “Ever. And I’ve seen and inflicted it all. This is worse.”

 

Willow nodded, wondered if a drink really would help, and if Spike, Anya, or Giles would share theirs. Only she and Xander were underage, or didn’t have the right fake ID. She’d have to work on that, maybe. And hey! How could Xander get Giles a drink when he wasn’t old enough?

 

“Right then,” Giles stood, took the drink Xander handed him, and gulped that down, too. “Have you gone through the never speak of this to Angel bit?” he asked Spike, peering over his glass in a vague squint that wasn’t so much drunk, as it was helpless befuddlement.

 

“’Course,” Spike groused. “Think I want something like this getting to him? Don’t be a bloody fool, Watcher.”

 

“Right, right,” Giles apologized. “Sorry. It’s the shock of it all,” he frowned into his empty glass. “Or perhaps the lack of whisky,” he added thoughtfully. Shaking his head, he looked back at the unlikely group before him. Ah, how times had changed in the last few months.

 

“Willow, you, Xander, and Anya head to the historical society, they’re closed, but I have every confidence you can work around that.”

 

“But what about-” Willow gestured behind her, in the vague direction of the college and Riley’s frat house. “And Angel?”

 

“I’ll…”Giles sighed, glanced at Spike. “I’ll take care of that. Spike?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Something was wrong. This was wrong. It was…warm. And wrong and she needed, but not like this, and what was going on?

 

She couldn’t breathe.

 

She couldn’t think.

 

She could move, everything felt fuzzy.

 

The kiss was wrong, the touch made her shudder in revulsion, but still seek more.

 

What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she say anything? Why couldn’t she move? Why, why, why?

 

She didn’t want this, no, never. She couldn’t stop it, what was happening? Why couldn’t she stop? What was it she wanted to stop?

 

Fire burned through her, a need so strong she thought she’d pass out from it, and still, nothing was ever enough. It wasn’t enough…not enough. No. He wasn’t…not right, not enough, not what she wanted or needed. Whoever he was; she needed…needed…someone else, needed her lover, her, her…who was he? And why couldn’t she remember him?

 

He was important to her, more than, and yet she could only remember the vaguest of things about him. But he wasn’t here, he wasn’t the one touching her. He wasn’t…she needed him, where was he? Who was he?

 

But the name wasn’t there, only the vague feeling that the man in her bed wasn’t who she wanted or needed. He was wrong, he wasn’t…wasn’t…

~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s not good enough!” Wesley cried, clearly frustrated. “She’s not a demon, Angel; she’s a sick, sick girl. If there’s even a chance she can be reasoned with-”

 

Angel turned to stare at Wesley, incredulous. “Actually, Wes,” he began reasonably enough, “there was. Last year I had a shot at saving her. Remember? Mansion on Crawford Street, me, Faith, talking? I was pulling her back from the brink when some British guy kidnapped her and made damn sure she’d never trust a living soul ever again.”

 

“Angel, it’s not Wesley’s fault that some British guy ruined your – oh. Wait,” she turned to Wesley, poking him in agitation, dead center of his chest, the same place she managed to hit every single time. “That was you, wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Snarling at the former watcher, she returned her attention to Angel, smiling sweetly at him. “Go on, boss.”

 

“You really don’t need to.” Wesley muttered.

 

“I’m going to help her and that’s final. Now you can stay and help, too,” Angel offered. “Or I can order you, as your boss, out of LA as soon as we know she’s here. But I’m staying.”

 

Promises to keep and all…

~~~~~~~~~~

He growled as her phone continued to ring. Where the hell was she that she hadn’t taken her cell? Barely resisting the ultimately unproductive and probably not-that-satisfying urge to toss his own phone across the room, Angel tried another tactic.

 

He called her dorm room – nothing. He called Giles – still nothing. He called her mother’s house – not there. He called Xander’s as an absolute last resort, but no one answered there, either.

 

“Maybe I should’ve got Spike a phone, too,” he growled. But there was no way to get in touch with his childe short of driving to Sunnydale. Which he was going to do right now.

 

“Cordelia!” he shouted, racing up the steps from apartment to office. “I’m heading to Sunnydale; something’s wrong with Buffy.”

 

“Ah, Angel!” Cordelia started, and she looked sickened. And slightly panicked. What the hell? “No, that’s no good.”

 

Shooting her a funny look, Angel continued to move through their offices, shrugging into his coat and grabbing his favorite battle-axe. Just in case. But then Cordelia was right in front of him, blocking his way as if she really could stop him.

 

“Just heard a news report,” she continued, but glared at the phone, not the TV or radio. What was with her? “Sounds like Faith’s in town.”

 

That stopped him. Angel had promised Buffy that he’d make sure Faith didn’t hurt anyone else, even as he told her he wanted to help Faith. Or try to, since the last time he’d tried things hadn’t worked out as he’d hoped. As any of them had hoped.

 

“I’ll keep trying Buffy, okay?” she offered, smiling. Angel’s eyes narrowed. “What? Like I don’t know if I don’t you’ll freak over not having talked to her in what, an hour?”

 

“Seven,” he muttered.

 

“Whatever. You find Faith. If she’s in this city, and back on her ‘Check Me Out, I’m So Bad’ rampage, I don’t want her accidentally setting this place on fire because she wants back at you and Wesley.”

 

Angel didn’t know what to do. He could accept Cordelia’s offer, but…this was Buffy. Although he had promised, both himself and his lover, that, given the chance, he’d help Faith. This was his chance.

 

“Look,” Cordelia snapped, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll even drive to SunnyHell and check up on the little woman. Okay?” There was something in her voice that nearly belied the annoyance she exuded.

 

But Angel willingly overlooked it, only because he knew how Buffy hated him racing down to Sunnydale, just to check up on her. She worried more when he was there and she didn’t know it. She worried Adam would get him, or the Initiative would somehow capture him, or that their plan would somehow be blown and all her Riley-dating would be for nothing, and they really didn’t have another plan.

 

And he had promised about Faith…

 

“Will that make you feel better? Sheesh,” she huffed, already grabbing purse and keys. “I swear, the things one does for friendship. But if Faith stakes you, I don’t want to hear about it from Buffy, understood?”

 

Bemused, Angel muttered, “Faith can’t take me. She’s not strong enough.”

 

Cordelia paused, looked back at him. “She’s the slayer,” she point out, confused.

 

“She’s a slayer. She’s not the slayer,” Angel clarified. “Buffy is the slayer. Faith’s the anomaly, Cordelia. The...extra, for want of a better word. She’s weaker than Buffy, slower, easier to anticipate and take down.”

 

“Right.” Smiling, his seer nodded, strangely happy. What the hell was going on here? “Good. Then I don’t have to worry about her staking you. Glad to hear it, boss. Really. So I’ll call, uh,” she faltered. “You know, if Faith’s here and you’re doing whatever good-deed you’re doing with her, I won’t call. I don’t want to talk to her, I don’t want to know where she is, and I don’t care. Hand her over to the Council, toss her in jail, or throw her in the Pacific. Any of those are good options, if you ask me.”

 

“I didn’t, Cordelia,” he said quietly. But he was thinking of one option Cordelia would never think of.

 

His conversation with Buffy a few days earlier. Breaking Faith. Torture, physical and mental, until all Faith knew was him and his lover. Turning her into a mindless slave, a thousand times more insane than Drusilla, a hundred times more deadly, and completely and totally obedient.

 

“Well, bye then,” Cordelia called, hand in the air in her version of a wave, and disappeared out the door without another word.

 

“What the hell just happened there?” Angel wondered, feeling stupid as he stood in the center of his office, his now empty office.

 

And went back to trying Buffy. Just in case he could get a hold of her. He desperately needed to talk with her, hear her voice, know she loved him. All of him. No matter what he wanted to do. And to whom.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Willow Rosenberg, you better have a good reason for this!” Cordelia shouted as she entered Giles’ home shortly after leaving Angel.

 

“I drove like a madwoman, lied to my boss, told him to help Ms. Psycho Slayer Of The Year. Now.” She glared at Willow, that sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach not easing from the truly terrified look on the redhead’s face. Or the fact that Spike was chain smoking (and in Giles’ house, which was a strict no-no, or was until, apparently, today), drinking Giles’ whisky like it was water, and pacing like a dammed caged tiger. Giles wasn’t much better, though he was seated on a kitchen stool.

 

“What the hell happened, how bad is it, and will we have to go into hiding to stop Angel from killing us all?”

 

“Yes.” But it was Spike who answered. Cordelia felt sick.

 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she admitted aloud.

 

“Join the club,” Anya offered, holding out a bag of chocolate. “Want some whisky?”

 

“Tell me,” she sighed, sinking into the couch, accepting both chocolate and a glass with a very tiny amount of alcohol in it. Talk about using a crutch to get though the difficult things in life. It was amazing they all weren’t a bunch of alcoholics by now. “And please, spare the details.”

 

They didn’t. Spare the details, that was. Couldn’t, and Cordelia felt bile rise in the back of her throat. Hastily finishing the whiskey, which may have added to her problem, she moaned, “Oh, God, that’s just…sick. Angel’s gonna have a fit. He’s…this…” she shook her head. “There are no words to describe the horror of this.”

 

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Willow demanded.

 

“All he knows is that I’m being a good little friend and checking up on Buffy who isn’t answering her phone.”

 

“Heard it ringing,” Spike grumbled, lighting another cigarette.

 

“Do we know how to get her out?” Cordelia demanded. But it was a pointless question. If they did, they’d have done so already. Or said something in their little horror-speech of the day.

 

“Best guess is to exorcise the building,” Giles sighed.

 

“Didn’t we try that already?”

 

“Yeah,” Willow grumbled. “Didn’t work then, either, as I recall.”

 

“You mean you tried it already?”

 

“No,” Anya said. “We needed ingredients, and Willow wanted to wait for you.”

 

“I feel so loved and special,” Cordelia sighed, rubbing her forehead. Man, she felt like she’d just got a vision, times like a hundred. “Angel’s going to kill Riley when he finds out about this.”

 

“He’s not!” Spike shouted, leaping over Xander and the couch to stand in front of Cordelia. He’d dropped his cigarette on the floor, and Giles was busy putting it out, hoping the burn mark wasn’t too noticeable. Spike, meanwhile, had grabbed Cordelia’s shoulders and was shaking her.

 

“Understand this, seer?” he continued, truly panicked. Cordelia tried to focus on his wide, terrified (really gorgeous) blue eyes, but had trouble keeping her head straight, what with the shaking. “He’s never to find out, never to know, no one breathes, thinks, utters, or remembers a word of this, comprende?”

 

“Yes, yes,” she snapped, “stop with the shaking.” But her fear was less easy to hide. Over Spike? Or over Angel? Even Cordelia couldn’t say. “You know as well as I do,” she hissed at Spike, “that he’s going to know she’s been with him. Do you really think Buffy’ll be able to keep this a secret?”

 

“I know,” he nodded, defeated, sinking to the floor in front of her. His head was bent, and he kept rubbing his neck as if desperately trying to ease the tension there. Cordelia could have told him nothing could. “But the slayer won’t say a word. She’d never admit to something that could hurt the poof this much. And this’ll kill Angel.”

 

“It’ll kill Riley,” Anya told them.

 

“Eh,” Xander shrugged. “So long as I get to tell him the truth first, it’s all good.”

 

“How many days until Ireland?” Willow wondered.

 

“Think we’ll make it?” Anya laughed. “There are so many variables, we need a mathematician. Let’s see,” she began ticking off. “Adam who’s way unpredictable, the Council who still wants you all dead, and Buffy hung, drawn, and quartered as an example to all future little slayers, plus Riley. We won’t,” she looked around the room. “Even mention this latest wrinkle, but moving on, there’s also the fact that only about 90% of the demons in this town, or the county, are willing to fight with us, not kill us.”

 

“Ninety-five,” Spike injected, indignant. “They’re comin’ ‘round.”

 

“Regardless,” Giles interrupted. “We still have a good four to six weeks before we can defeat Adam and go on vacation. Assuming we can keep Riley on our side so we can access the Initiative, and that we can find the spell Angel spoke of, the ingredients are available, and-” he stopped. “Well, you get the idea.”

 

“Can’t we just bomb the place?” Xander asked, tiredly laying his head on the back of the couch. “It’d save on the trouble.”

 

“Yes, but then you’d miss out on tattling to Riley.”

 

“Damn.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She’d sworn everyone to silence upon penalty of dismemberment, evisceration, and death.

 

“We never speak of it,” Buffy reiterated, tears in her eyes, her throat tight as she lay wrapped in a blanket, Giles fussing over her, Willow and Xander looking helpless, and Cordelia looking like she wanted to vomit.

 

Join the club, Cordy. Buffy wasn’t feeling too good herself, was positive she was going to throw-up any second, and desperately wanted the last several hours to not be anywhere in her memory. Why couldn’t that stupid house have latched onto her and Angel?

 

Spike was twitchy and making her nervous. “Spike,” she snapped, sipping her fourth mug of tea, “sit!” he didn’t, continued to pace, so she reiterated, “Never! Understood?”

 

“Slayer, I’m the last person who’ll say anything, but you know as well as I do-” he cut himself off. Shaking his head, he plopped himself on the floor in front of Buffy’s chair. Sentry to the Slayer. Even here, in the safety and security of Giles’, Spike guarded her. Especially now. After this debacle, if she was lucky, Buffy figured Spike’d stop obsessing over her safety in a decade or so. Maybe two.

 

“I know,” Buffy whispered, one hand dropping to his shoulder. “I know…”

 

“Know what?” Xander asked, eyeing the unlikely comfort of Spike and Buffy.

 

“Angel’ll know,” Anya said when no one else would. “He’ll know she slept with Riley. There’s no way to hide something like that, not from a vampire, and certainly not from her mate.”

 

“Anya,” Buffy begged, the tears she’d managed to stop just a few minutes ago falling again.

 

“I can ask around,” she offered, sitting up with sudden energy. “Oh! I can see if there’s a memory demon in the area. They can wipe that memory right out,” she snapped her fingers.

 

“Dangerous,” Cordelia warned, frowned, “but maybe not as dangerous as Angel knowing.”

 

Tempted, Buffy reluctantly shook her head. “No, but thanks,” she smiled. Wiping her fingers over wet cheeks, she shook her head. “I don’t want this memory; it makes me feel disgusted and very dirty. But I don’t want anything else ‘accidentally’ wiped, either.”

 

“Good call,” Spike approved from his seat in front of her. “You can never tell, sometimes things just don’t go as magically planned.” He glared at Willow, but the redhead didn’t dare make eye contact with him. They all remembered the horror that was her ‘my will be done’ spell.

 

“Cordy,” Buffy said, “where’s Angel?”

 

“I left him in LA with the threat of psycho Faith.” Buffy glared at her. “Hey, don’t start with me, Buffy! It was either leave him there with the promise to check up on you like the good friend I am, or have him drive to Sunnydale himself. And since I’d just talked to Willow about what’d been happening…”

 

She didn’t need to finish. Angel in Sunnydale + Buffy under a spell to sleep with Riley and hump like bunnies? Equaled not of the good. Not the best thing he could discover on his own.

 

“Spike, what’m I gonna do?” she murmured, head resting on the arm of her chair, still wrapped in a blanket, hair still damp from the two hour shower she’d had, trying to scrape Riley off her. Her skin was raw, her heart hurt, and she wasn’t ruling out the possibility that she was going to be sick all over Giles’ floor.

 

She wanted Angel. Since that was so out of the question, she wanted her mother. Unfortunately, she’d all but forced Joyce to go on her buying trip and get it out of the way so she could go to Ireland with them, whenever that was. The ticket dates were changeable, though how Cordelia managed that, Buffy didn’t know.

 

Slowly, Spike turned around, catching the eyes of Cordelia, Willow, and Anya. He wasn’t the best person to ask this kind of thing, figured the slayer needed her mum, or the three female friends that looked as helpless as he felt. Giles hovered over Buffy’s shoulder, careful with her.

 

Even though she hadn’t said ‘no’, slayer’d still been raped. The house had taken away her free will, and it was the same as Riley taking her by force. So what was she going to do? Why ask me? Because I swore to protect her. Simple and complicated. Whatever happened to my life before all this? It was simple then; killing, hunting, fucking…ah, the good old days.

 

“Best thing, Buffy,” he said quietly, actually using her name which freaked Buffy out. “Is to confess everything. You had to do it; Finn was getting suspicious, even though you’d explained the Faith thing to him. He wants you, loves you, all that bloody pathetic Finn stuff, and since you still needed him to gain whatever access into the Initiative he could provide, you had to keep him appeased. He was suspicious enough as it was, and learning about Angel wasn’t helping the trust between you two.”

 

Buffy locked eyes with him for a minute then looked away. Slowly, she nodded, but the tears were back.

 

“Bloody fucking hell,” Spike mumbled. With a sigh, he stood and picked Buffy up, carrying her to Giles’ spare bedroom. Joyce wasn’t home this week, off art buying or conferencing or whatever. That left him. And he had no idea what to do.

 

Laying her on the bed, Spike stood in the hall and jerked his head at her friends. Silently, Willow, Cordelia, and Anya went into the room, Giles standing in the hallway looking about as uncertain as Spike’d ever seen him. Xander actually looked like he wanted to kill something – or Riley – but merely sat there, hands balled into fists.

 

“Angel’s going to kill Riley,” Spike said quietly. “House or not, Buffy didn’t have a choice. He’s going to kill Riley, and I’m not going to stop him.”

 

“No,” Giles murmured in agreement.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fucking cool! She was getting paid to kill Angel. This was better than great.

 

Faith laughed as she strutted down the street. Whatever reason Wolfram & Hart had for wanting Angel dead, she didn’t care. Dead, dust, it was all good.

 

Revenge was good, hell, it was better than. Talk about a rush. Smiling, Faith stopped and leaned against a lamppost, watching ‘Angel Investigations’. And what the hell was that emblem on it? Weird.

 

Now, for what to say. The possibilities were endless, but she wanted to get it right.

 

“You can’t imagine the price for true evil,” Angle’s voice floated back to her, long forgotten in the coma and hatred of that time. “If you can trust us Faith, this can all change.”

 

Trust, what a crock of shit that was. Wesley had burst into the room then, all high and mighty and spouting his so-called authority like the weenie he was. “I’m exercising my authority and removing you to England, where you will accept the judgment of the disciplinary committee.”

 

The Council. Shivering, Faith wrapped her arms around her middle. They were going to kill her, there was no doubts about that. They’d wanted her dead for years now – so why hadn’t they done so when she was in the hospital? Because she was already helpless, and even they had ‘rules’ about that?

 

“Won’t ever know,” she mumbled, eyes still locked on the building across the street. The sun shone down, warm and not at all reassuring.

 

“Hey, baby!” she called to Angel as he entered the main part of his little office. And just where was his little team? Hadn’t Lilah said he had dear ole Wes working for him? And the cheerleader, but Faith didn’t care about her. Other than in the it’d-be-nice-to-kill-her kind of way.

 

“Come give us a hug.”

 

Angel stood in the doorway, watching Faith carefully. She looked even worse than Buffy said, and her words were “Faith’s totally out there, Angel. She’s way gone.” Suppressing the urge to try Buffy once more and see how she was, Angel reminded himself that Cordelia was a good friend and would tell him if something was wrong.

 

Or at least not be able to keep it a secret and tell him anyway.

 

“I was hoping you’d stop by,” he said. “Always good to see old friends.” Faith pulled out a revolver and cocked it, aiming it at him. “What’s this? New invention of yours? Wooden bullets?”

 

“Ooh, good idea!” she laughed, eyes wild and not focusing on him as clearly as they should’ve been. It wasn’t drugs, but Angel had no doubt she’d resort to them soon. It was the rapid deterioration of her soul.

 

“But no, this is for you. You know,” she said conversationally, “I’m going to kill you slowly and inventively, so I’m gonna give you one chance to...” she tossed him the gun. Catching it, he flipped it and shot her. In the right leg.

 

“Blanks.” He shrugged, tossed the weapon back at her. “Nice.”

 

“You didn’t shoot to kill,” she pouted, holding the gun again. “We’re gonna have to up the stakes, so to speak. Get you in the game a little.”

 

“What’s the game, exactly, Faith?” he demanded, hoping it had everything to do with him and nothing with Buffy. “Boredom? Revenge?”

 

“Dude,” she crowed, “I’m getting paid! They hate you almost as much as I do.”

 

“Ever occurred to you this might be more fun for me?” he let his demon out, only a little, his words to Buffy coming back to haunt both demon and soul. The smile he offered Faith had her shivering, and for the first time a spark of terror flooded her scent.

 

“You think?” she asked, forcing her charade to go on. “Because what if you kill me? Oh, and you experience that one true moment of pleasure? Oops!” she chuckled, strutting a step forward. Overly confident, cocky, still the scared little girl she was in Sunnydale, Angel realized. Hoped it made his job easier.

 

“I’d get off on that, ya know. One up on,” she didn’t say Buffy, but Angel knew that was who she thought of. “Well, anyway,” she shrugged. “Go ahead. Do me, baby. Let’s take that hell ride together. Come on, Angel,” she all but shouted, losing it now, when he said and did nothing. “I’m all yours! I’m giving you an open invitation.”

 

Angel didn’t move, just watched. Hoping that he could control himself, could let Faith live. Could keep his promise to Buffy and see that her sister slayer received the help she needed. Wouldn’t kill her, wouldn’t torture her, wouldn’t break her.

 

Break her. The very thought-

 

“Jeez, you’re pathetic! You and your little tortured soul got to think everything through. Well, think fast, lover. You don’t do me, you know I’m gonna do you!”

 

Aiming once more, she shot Angel right in the chest, the bullet ripping through flesh and bone. “Gosh,” she said in mock amazement. “That one wasn’t a blank.” Laughing again, she stepped back. “Let the games begin.”

 

With that, she jumped out the window, shattering the glass and flooding the room with sunlight.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lilah reread the report on Faith. “Seems,” she said without looking up at Lindsey, “that our little slayer’s not the most stable one ever called.”

 

“That can only work to our advantage,” Lindsey shrugged. “Still, what about Plan D?”

 

“Darla?” Lilah shook her head. “If Angel’s soul is truly bound, and it really looks like it is, then she’s useless. I say we let her rot in hell.”

 

“Angel’s been sleeping with the slayer – the other one, the sane one – for months now,” Lindsey agreed. “Since she’s the only one ever to make him lose that soul, I have to agree.”

 

Lilah looked up with a frown. “You agree? Is the world ending?” She glanced at her desk calendar. “No, it’s not time for our apocalypse yet.”

 

“Ha, ha,” he intoned. “You’re so very funny.”

 

“Yes, I know,” she smirked. “Do we even have a Plan E?”

 

“End of the world?” Lindsey shrugged again, pushing himself out of the chair. Pacing to the window, he stared out at the LA landscape. Slowly turning to face Lilah he asked, “Are we supposed to make sure Angel doesn’t fight in the End of Days, or are we just supposed to make sure he fights on our side?”

 

Opening her mouth for a quick retort, Lilah slowly closed it. Nodding, she stood. “It’s about time we found out, isn’t it?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’d been a couple of weeks since she’d last seen Angel, and in that time had managed to royally screw up her life. Not purposely, but enough so that every time she thought of it, Buffy was nearly physically sick.

 

Riley was still in the picture, there was no way to get him out, not now. Not until they defeated Adam, at least.

 

“We can’t even find Adam,” she admitted. Cradling the phone between shoulder and ear, she sat in her old room, staring out at the night sky from her window. It reminded her of Angel, of her more innocent past with Angel. Before all this.

 

But it wasn’t there now. Slipping on her sneakers, Buffy left her mother’s home, and headed for the mansion. Her home with Angel. Her home.

 

“He’s probably in one of the caves on the outskirts of town,” Angel said. “He’ll make his move soon enough.”

 

“Anything more on the Council?”

 

“They’re still after Faith,” he admitted. “I think that’s their priority now. They want her dead and another called, preferably one they have more control over.”

“Not like me.”

 

“Baby, I won’t let them hurt you,” he vowed, desperately wanting to go to her. Knowing he couldn’t. Faith was still after him, still in LA, and he wanted to be here when she finally made her move.

 

“I know,” she whispered.

 

“Still, knowing them the way we do, I can’t say they’re not going to try something with Adam. Walsh is dead, but it’s not going to stop them.”

 

“No, I agree. Willie says everything’s in place. All we have to do is give the word.”

 

“Good, good,” he approved. “Are all the demons still managing to get themselves captured?”

 

“Yeah, but they’re none to happy with it. In addition to their utter stupidity in dealing with the supernatural, the Initiative put mortal enemies together. Faryl and Polgara, vampires from rival clans, vamps and…” she frowned as she cut through a cemetery. “What’re those horse things?”

 

Angel laughed. “Doesn’t matter,” he assured her. “They can kill each other off, and it’ll make our job easier after this is all done. Make it harder now, though. We need all the help we can get.”

 

“I love you,” Buffy said abruptly.

 

Angel paused in what he’d been about to say. “I love you, too, Buffy….baby, what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” she immediately said. Then, because she couldn’t lie to Angel, “It’s Riley. I had to, I mean…” she trailed off. “I want this over. I need you back, I can’t stand it here, I don’t like him touching me, Angel. I hate it, I hate that I have to keep up this lie.”

 

“I see.” Angel swallowed down the instant welling of anger and betrayal he felt, the words he wanted to say. “I love you, Buffy. Nothing can change that. Understand me?”

 

“Yes,” she nodded tearfully. Almost there, she was nearly home.

 

“We’ll talk about it all later. I swear.” Afterwards. After Adam was gone, after Riley was dead. After he’d killed Riley.

 

“Angel…”

 

“Trust me, beloved. Later. Faith’ll come back and try again, and I have to be here. She’s weakening, I know she is.”

 

“I don’t like her with you,” Buffy admitted. “I’m almost glad you’re helping her, but I know she wants you. And I want her dead for that.”

 

Again, Angel laughed. “Honey, if I killed everyone who wanted you, there’d be no one left in Sunnydale.”

 

“LA’d be pretty empty, too,” she nodded, thinking of everyone who wanted her lover. Home was in sight now, the long drive welcoming. “We’d have to start someplace fresh, with no people but us.”

 

“I really don’t have a problem with that,” Angel admitted.

 

“No, I don’t either.”

 

“Mountains or beach?”

 

“Hmm, both? Can I vote for both?”

 

“You can have anything you want,” he chuckled, “anything at all, my love.”

 

“You’ll do,” she whispered, so close now to sanctuary. “Anywhere you’re at.”

 

There was a crash, just as Buffy entered home. “Faith’s here,” Angel quickly said. “I’ll call you later, love.”

 

With that, before she had the chance to tell him again how much she loved him, the line was dead. Sinking to their bed, Buffy shut her eyes and willed herself not to run to LA. She needed to give Angel time with Faith first.

 

Then she’d go and play out this last act of their charade.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Still,” Riley said as he accepted the clothes Xander offered. “The sooner Buffy gets back, the better I’ll feel.”

 

“You and me both, big guy,” he nodded.

 

Everything was coming to a head now, and with both her and Angel all whatever over Faith – who really should be tossed into a very deep part of the Pacific, Cordelia was absolutely right about that – things weren’t looking too good. Willie had things set to go, but betting aside, Faith was a distraction they certainly didn’t need right now. Or ever.

 

“I take it you’re not an Angel fan either?” Riley was looking at him now as if he knew about Angel.

 

Knew? How? What? Damn Buffy! She should tell him these things before traipsing off to LA! And why would she tell Riley about Angel? She’d said she wasn’t going to, that it wasn’t his business and he so didn’t need to know. So what happened to change her mind?

 

Faith. Damn her again!

 

“Angel?” Xander squeaked, staring at Riley as if the other man had just sprouted a bunch of eyes and spoke in tongues. Panic gripped him, making him speechless and way more panicky than before. “You know about Angel?”

 

“Yeah,” Riley nodded, taking the bag of food Xander offered. Xander didn’t even realize Riley took it, and continued to hold his hands out, midair. “Buffy told me. She said she had to go to LA to help her ex.” Riley suddenly looked up at Xander. “This is the one who hurt her so badly, isn’t he. Hurt her enough make her wary about men. About me.”

 

Recovering, but only slightly, Xander nodded. How the hell was he supposed to play this? Damn it, this wasn’t in the manual! Not that there was one, but there should be a ‘Friends of the Slayer Manual’ to help out with things like this.

 

“Well, you know, it’s not like I hate the guy. Just, you know,” argh! Now he had to lie about hating Angel. The world was ending, he just knew it. Life was so simple when he actually did hate Angel. “The guts part of him.”

 

“Can’t blame you. But to be fair, it’s not him you hate. It’s the curse.”

 

Curse? What did Riley know about the curse? Buffy told him about the curse? Hell, her telling him about Angel was bad enough, but the curse, too? What had happened to his moderately insane world? It was spiraling out of control! It was a madhouse!

 

Was he supposed to respond to Riley?

 

“Right?” Riley prodded.

 

Oh, probably was, then. Carefully, Xander asked, “What did Buffy tell you?”

 

Sitting down, Riley sighed. He didn’t look good, and Xander didn’t mean in the ‘I’m trapped in the sewers, hiding out from my own army because I betrayed them for a woman who doesn’t love me but needs my secret code to kill Frankenstein’s Monster’ way.

 

“On Angel? Everything.”

 

Everything? No, that couldn’t be right. But Riley was still speaking.

 

“More than I wanted to know sometimes; she loved him, he turned evil. He, uh, killed people. She cured him. He left. Interesting little curse he has there”

 

Wow. Buffy had told him everything. Wait. That wasn’t necessarily true. Smiling evilly, Xander tested that little theory out. Things were winding down now, they wouldn’t be needing Riley for much longer, and the sooner that was taken care of, the happier Xander’d be.

 

So assuming Buffy hadn’t told Schmuck of the Year everything, said schmuck wouldn’t necessarily know about… “One moment’s happiness.”

 

Riley’s head jerked around to stare at him. BINGO! “What do you mean?”

 

“You know,” Xander said as helpfully as he could. “It’s his trigger. Angel’s an okay guy if he’s mopey and sad and broody guy, but if you give him even one second of pure, real pleasure…” come on, Riley, put all the pieces together. You’re not that stupid.

 

“And that sets him off,” he said slowly. The dots were nearly connected.

 

Xander shrugged, looked away as if it wasn’t important and he wasn’t about to laugh with mocking glee. Oh, where was Spike to enjoy this? Wait…now his world was truly and completely askew. He wanted Spike there to share in this? He was a sad, sad man.

 

“Only in the big ol ‘kill your friends’ kind of way. And you know what makes Angel happiest? I’ll give you a hint, and it’s not crème Brule.”

 

He could all but see Riley’s mind working. “Buffy.”

 

He shoots, he scores! Two points!

 

“Sex,” Riley finally realized softly, and it’s then Xander realizes that no matter how much fun torturing Riley was, Buffy was so going to kill him. She hadn’t spilled this part…oops. “Sex with Buffy.”

 

“She, ah…she kinda left that part out, huh?”

 

Not that Xander could blame her, but still. Why? Why, oh, why couldn’t he have brought a video camera to capture Riley’s face when realization finally, finally, dawned? Spike’d be so jealous when Xander showed him – or, well, in this case, told him. But he’d have to do it on the sly, because if Buffy found out, he’d be dead next to Riley.

 

“Yeah, she did.” Shaking his head, he let out a breath. “That explains. Wow, a lot. Too many things that I wish weren’t explained.”

 

Trying to back up and make things okay so Riley wouldn’t say anything to Buffy, who’d know who told him, Xander reassured, “Hey, man, that’s all ancient history.”

 

Or, well, last week’s history. How old did it have to be before it was considered ‘ancient’?

 

Shaking his head, Riley denied it. “I don’t think so. She went running to LA to bone up on her history.”

 

“No, no! I’m sure it’s boneless.” Especially since Faith was there. Still, this did show Xander that Riley wasn’t as clueless as everyone thought. Maybe they’d have to change his title from ‘Clueless of the Year’ to something else. Eh, maybe not.

 

“She just needs to make sure everything’s okay. She’s probably back already.”

 

Hmm, what time was it? He couldn’t check his watch without looking obvious, but did so anyway. Well, no, not back yet, but soon. That, Xander knew. Because Faith wasn’t in on the plan, and expected Buffy to be with Riley, not Angel. Wincing, Xander wondered just what was happening in LA and how devastated Buffy was going to be upon her return.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Xander stood. “Well, I’d better get back and see what the gang’s found. Plus, we need to prepare for, ah,” great. Stick your foot further in your mouth, moron. “The aftermath,” he said instead, hoping Riley didn’t notice.

 

He didn’t. Phew! Because Riley was completely unaware of anything about the Council, or at least as it related to Buffy, and if Xander’d blown that…

 

Riley didn’t even hear Xander leave. Buffy and Angel. Buffy and a vampire. Buffy and someone not him. Buffy and an HST who was better off dead. Angel. The very name made him want to kill the bastard. Take Buffy away until she forgot all about this life, Angel, demons, everything.

 

Leaning back in his sewer hole like a damned rat, Riley tried to block out Buffy, his sweet, loving Buffy, kissing a vampire.

 

Angel. Where’d he hear that name before?

 

 

 

Part Seven

It Was Your Plan, Buffy...or How Angel Punished Buffy for Sleeping with Riley

 

She was fairly certain the country was beautiful. She’d seen pictures, after all, and heard stories. And there was the drive from the airport to their castle suite. And the view…God, the view was absolutely gorgeous. Breathtaking, even.

 

From her advantageous position tied to the bed.

 

But then Angel had moved the bed so that she could see their view. He just refused to untie her except for short periods during which she got to pee and bathe. Well, he bathed her, and, okay, so being tied up all the time was an exaggeration; she wasn’t right then, after all. None of which she minded, per se, it was the fact that being the submissive wasn’t how she’d pictured herself. Not that she had. Much.

 

Okay, okay, so the thought of Angel tying her to their bed and effectively showing her just what he could and would do to her body, and the fact that he did that ever so well, was mind-blowing. The fact that last night he’d effectively cut off each sense until all she could do was feel, still left her reeling, her heart racing, her blood calling out to his.

 

And, oh, dear Lord, did she enjoy it. She enjoyed everything Angel did to her. Except the fact that she’d yet to see the country of his birth. And it’d been two whole days.

 

“Good morning, lover,” he murmured against her skin, and Buffy melted.

 

It was the voice. God, but the man had the sexiest voice in the world. All soft and warm, like the best chocolate. Darkness and desire that had her melting and wanting and needing. She could listen to him just talk for hours – it didn’t matter what he said, what the subject was, so long as he talked to her in that dead-sexy voice that made her weak and wet and needy.

 

“Hmm,” she sighed, fingertips softly caressing down his back.

 

The sensitive pads of her fingers stroked and memorized, feeling every ridge of muscle, shifting as she felt, as he moved over her; the soft coolness of his skin against her, under her and over her, barely unblemished even after centuries of living. There was the ever-so-faint scar along his side, just next to his tattoo, and she knew each crest, each fold of it. He never said how he got it, and Buffy wondered if he even remembered, but she knew it and loved it for the simple fact that it was a part of him.

 

The bumps of his spine, the shape of his hip, the round of his ass. The feel of his thighs, the hair on his legs, the taste of his skin. All this she knew, knew more intimately than she knew herself, knew with sight and scent and taste and feel and sound. All this was hers.

 

Possession.

 

It flared through her, white hot with passion. Angel was hers, only hers, no matter that she met him already centuries into his life, he belonged to no one but her. Buffy sought his mouth, hungry and eager to taste him, to feel his cool tongue against hers, his lips. To know that while he may have had others before, never again would he taste someone like this. Would he feel someone else, some other woman, some nameless and faceless whore, as he now felt her.

 

Mine.

 

He was hers, every inch of him.

 

Up on his arms, holding himself rigid above her, still, even after all this time, after all they’ve been to each other and all they’ve done, afraid of hurting her. Or crushing her, at least, Buffy thought with a wicked smile.

 

Her hands rediscovered every loved inch of him, every adored patch of skin and ripple of muscle.

 

She rolled them over, slightly surprised that Angel let her. But she wanted to see him, wanted to see his hard chest, the faint, barely there but she knew it was because she’d given it to him and hated the fact that she’d had to, but it’d been necessary, or that’s what she told herself anyway, scar on his stomach. The jagged line where her sword (blessed, they’d said, but if it truly was blessed then shouldn’t it have helped her love? Not killed, not betrayed. Not murdered.) had ripped into his flesh and killed him when all she wanted to do was save him.

 

She was already damned for that. How could she not be? Her mouth was on his, hot and hungry violence and passion, but her fingers were gentle as they delicately traced that scar.

 

“I’m sorry for that,” she whispered, eyes bright with tears as she looked at him.

 

“It’s over,” he whispered back, capturing her hand and bringing it to his lips.

 

Buffy just nodded, but knew it wasn’t. Not because Angel hadn’t forgiven her, but because she couldn’t forgive herself. But every time she said something about it, he accepted. Her love, her heartache over that day (days, weeks, months, and did either of them really have control over that time? And were they, either of them, ever going to admit just what that time meant?) her sorrow for sending him to Hell, and for not knowing how to deal with him when he came back.

 

Smiling now, instead of speaking the many words that wanted to rush out, Buffy bent again, tasting a path down his chest, paying tender homage to that scar (that day, that event). So she showed him; showed him how much she hated herself for that day (that time, that consequence), and how much she loved him.

 

And couldn’t stop the words from leaving her this time.

 

“I never hated you,” she whispered, running her tongue along the scar, just on the off chance he didn’t know what she was talking about.

 

Angel knew. He always knew. His hands tangled in her long hair, stilling her movements. “Buffy,” he started, trailed off, unsure what to say.

 

“I know the difference,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, but her eyes were heavy with passion and clear with understanding, and her body was warm and atop his and Angel knew. He just knew. Because this was Buffy, and she was his, and…

 

“I’ve always known,” she whispered, and her hands glided over his chest with a feather-light touch that soothed as much as they aroused because everything about her aroused him.

 

“I know…” And even though she trailed off, Angel knew what she knew, what she wanted to say. And when she kissed him again, he felt an absolution he hadn’t ever before.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

She woke once more tied to the bed.

 

This was their ritual; this was her punishment, this was his need. Not to hurt her, never that. For both their pleasure, true, for both their pain.

 

Absolution.

 

She’d slept with another. Willingly. She hadn’t been under a spell. (Well, there was that once, but she’d nearly succeeded in mostly banishing it from her mind, and please don’t ever bring that up again.) She hadn’t had amnesia. She had known exactly what she was doing.

 

Saving his life.

 

Without Angel, Buffy wasn’t sure she’d survive. She’d done it willingly, hating every second of it, every fake gasp of pleasure, every false moan of desire, every forced kiss, every phony caress.

 

She’d seriously considered the memory spell Anya had offered, but was serious about not wanting to forget anything not related to the seriously unthinkable thoughts this whole thing dredged up. Still, it was a sweet offer, and Buffy wasn’t ruling it out just yet.

 

She didn’t say anything, just watched him. Angel stood at the foot of the bed, gazing at her with a mixture of hot passion and unending love. Hunger, anger, pain. It was that love that kept Buffy silent. That and the nearly unbearable understanding she had as to why.

 

Why he needed to do this. Why he needed to show her, through sex and possession. Why he needed to exorcise the demon between them. Riley. She couldn’t say the name aloud, and wouldn’t, never in Angel’s presence. Never again, if she could help it (she’d never said his name when they were…together, couldn’t bring herself to even pretend calling his name in ‘passion’).

 

“Do you know,” he asked in that same quiet voice he’d used since they arrived, bleary eyed and exhausted first thing in the morning two days ago. The one that had her wet and aching for him. The one that simply dripped sex. His fuck me voice. The voice that woke every nerve in her body, every hidden fantasy, every desire.

 

“Do you?” he demanded. “Do you know how much I love you?”

 

His eyes told her, his touch. The whispered words caressing her skin. Yes. Buffy knew.

 

“Do you know how hard it was to watch you with him?” No, they never said his name. “Do you know why?” he continued, hands a light, cool caress over foot and calf, the back of her knee, the inside of her thigh.

 

“Do you know why,” that hypnotic voice continued, “I couldn’t let him live?”

 

Yes, Buffy knew that, too. It was something they’d never talk of again, not once they left this room. It was something they could only acknowledge between them in this surreal moment of time, when nothing mattered, nothing entered, nothing disturbed. Love. Passion. Commitment. Lesson.

 

“Do you know,” the voice was a cool breath on her toes, painted a bright red. She’d fallen asleep during the Cordelia-insisted day at the spa, but they looked good. “What you being with him did to me?”

 

“Yes,” she whispered, tears in her throat making her voice husky and thick. Pain. There was pain there, hers and his, and she had never been so (sorry, guilty, unhappy, heartsick, God, I’m so, so sorry!) over a plan before.

 

It’d worked, but that wasn’t the point. It’d worked so well that they’d gained valuable allies in the demon community. That wasn’t the point. That wasn’t what this was about.

 

This was Angel’s way of forgiving her something she knew he already had, and Buffy would accept it. If he could erase the memory of Riley’s hands, of his kisses, his hot sticky breath, his clumsy attempts at seduction and erotica and he had no idea what she already knew, already wanted. Wasn’t willing (Thank you God for that!) to learn.

 

He thought she’d been hurt. That she was too young to understand true passion. To really know true love. He didn’t believe, hadn’t wanted to, couldn’t even imagine she’d already given herself to another. Body blood soul heart mind future-past-present all.

 

“Do you know,” Angel continued, lips pressing against her, closer, closer, closercloser, ah, there! “That I watched you?”

 

Buffy stiffened at that, but his tongue was doing wonderful things to her, and she shuddered at the absolute pleasure as his hands gripped her hips, holding her down on the bed.

 

“I saw you with him,” he whispered, teeth scraping over her clit, and she wanted to beg. Wanted to hold his head there and let him do whatever he wanted to her so that she exploded in blinding passion and never had to think of Riley again.

 

“I watched you take your clothes off,” one long finger entered her. “I watched you smile at him, watched you walk to his bed.” A second finger, slowly moving, too slowly, but God, his teeth were still on her and she needed!

 

“He had you on his bed, wanted to tie you to it.” His eyes were black now, and one hand trailed down her leg to the silk scarf wrapped around her ankle. “He wanted to ‘teach’ you. Wanted to fuck you.”

 

Damn that Faith! Buffy’s clouded mind thought and she shuddered again. Whether from the burning vision in her mind’s evil eye that reminded her of Faith’s horrid video, or from the exquisite pleasure Angel’s fingers and teeth were giving her.

 

Buffy whimpered when Angel withdrew from her. Empty. Unfulfilled, begging, needy. Empty.

 

“My shy and blushing lover.” His voice was hard now, changed with the memory. “You all but shook with delicate virginity. I must commend your acting, darling.” He leaned closer, eyes a hot black, lips brushing over her neck – please, please, drink me, fuck me, fill me!

 

“And he was convinced, agreed to take it slow. To show you how good vanilla could be. Weren’t they his words? How he could make love to you when what he really wanted was to tie you to the bed and use you. But then he’s a fool. You, however, came straight to my bed, didn’t you? And begged me.”

 

A hard, too-quick kiss that left her as needy as before. Her insides throbbed to be filled by him. Her neck was on fire to feel his fangs in her. Her nipples, achingly hard, needed his touch, his bite. She struggled to get free and take, but couldn’t. This was Angel’s show, and he was nowhere near finished.

 

Angel untied her ankles, and Buffy immediately tried to clasp her legs together in a desperate attempt to give herself release. His hands were rough on her, pulling them apart, and she cried out.

 

“Angel,” she panted. “Angel, please!”

 

This wasn’t like before. Like their previous two days. Angel had been demanding then, true, but not like this. He’d fucked her, spanked her until she thought she’d never be able to sit again and would simply combust if he didn’t take her. Then he had – hard and fast, pounding her into the bed so that her ass burned but Buffy hadn’t cared.

 

He’d brought her to the very edge of pain, filling her with unspeakable pleasure even as he whipped her.

 

He’d made love to her, slowly and gently, whispering his love, his desire. Kissing each mark he’d inflicted even as they healed. Tasting her as she orgasmed, as she sobbed her need, her sorrow. Her love. Always her love.

 

He’d done this before, denied her completion until he was finished exploring her (body soul painpleasure more, yes please there moreneedwant must have), but Buffy had the distinct feeling that this wasn’t that. Something was different now that Angel had taken care of everything else.

 

Violence. Hatred. Love and need and desire, and it was all rolled together and Buffy knew, even as he looked silently down at her, that this was the punishment part of their time here. That before was need. Need to be with each other without spies or lies or threats or anything that could possibly even think about intruding on them.

 

Now it was about jealously.

 

“Please,” he whispered against her breast. “Please. Yes, my love, I adore it when you beg.” He leaned back, the look in his eyes possessive and hot and all male, and Buffy tingled from that look alone. “But not this time, darling.”

 

And beg she did.

 

Begged him to stop. To take. Cried out his name when he took the riding crop to her ass and thighs. Sobbed his name when he retied her ankles and made her come until she blacked out. Tasted her until she was weak, until her blood ran in thin rivulets over her skin, onto the bedding.

 

Angel watched as she struggled to remain conscious. Part of him hated this, that he felt the need to do that to her. That his beautiful lover suffered like this. He loved it. He was so hard he wasn’t sure how he managed not to take her. How he hadn’t already fucked her until she did pass out, shouting his name. How he hadn’t done so over and over until his mind finally shut down and all thoughts of (betrayal cheating Riley) were gone.

 

“Angel,” she sighed, eyes closed.

 

Gently, he lowered himself to her side, tongue licking the blood that slowly seeped from bites he, himself inflicted. Yes, he loved this. loved her at his mercy, loved her bearing his marks. The bruises, the welts, the bites. Loved her scent, sated and yet still needy.

 

He loved her more than his own life, and yet couldn’t not do this. It was part vampire – no one touched his mate. And it was part Liam/Angelus/Angel him. Possessive bastard though he was, he needed to do this.

 

To erase every trace of that boy from her body.

 

To erase his scent. His memory. His very being.

 

Killing Riley had helped. Making love to Buffy had as well. This was different. This was not so much teaching her a lesson as it was reminding her. She was his. Period.

 

She stirred with his name still on her lips, swollen as they now were. Her arms tugged at their restraints, desperate, he knew, to touch him. He wanted that, too, but not yet. He wasn’t done.

 

“Buffy,” he whispered against her lips, distracted when she kissed him back, still not fully conscious. “Baby, open your eyes.”

 

Slowly, green eyes looked at him, heavy with sleep, need, understanding. Love.

 

His hand drifted along her belly, teased her folds still slick with need for him. Settling himself over her, Angel watched her as he entered her in one hard thrust. Her mouth opened in a gasp, her thighs strained to wrap around his waist.

 

“Mine,” he said, moving within her, hard, sure thrusts. “You’re mine, Buffy.”

 

Hips raising to meet his every thrust, Buffy could only nod. “Yours, my Angel.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Buffy blinked at the sunlight coming in. It was indirect, of course, and yet seemed much brighter than she thought it should.

 

“Good afternoon,” Angel whispered against her neck. His arms tightened around her, leg shifting slightly when she moved.

 

Turning to look at him, she smiled slightly. She was sore in places she had no idea could be sore, pleasantly numb, and starving. Rolling over, Buffy slipped her arm around Angel, pulling him close for a kiss. He tasted of moonlight and mystery, hot nights and hotter days.

 

Mine.

 

She’d passed out. Even remembering that tiny little fact didn’t stop a shiver of pleasure from racking her body, and Buffy moved closer to Angel. He willingly tightened his arms around her, carefully pulling her atop his chest.

 

Her ass felt like it was on fire, her breasts throbbed even now and her nipples ached between attention (tongue teeth harder, more!) and relief, and she wasn’t entirely sure that if she started something right now (wanted needed, hmmm one more kiss, lover) she’d be able to finish it.

 

The look in Angel’s eyes last night had nearly scared her. Nearly. Black as night, not remotely hollow, brimming with things she wasn’t sure he’d be able to say. Or she’d be able to hear. They had to talk about it; she knew that even as she hated it. But she didn’t want this to destroy what they had. What they’d built.

 

“Morning, lover,” she murmured against his lips. Smiling mischievously she asked, “What’s for breakfast?”

 

With a chuckle, Angel gently picked her up and set her on his lap. One hand trailed down her belly and thigh, and Buffy stifled a gasp when his cool fingers traced the various bite marks he’d made. On a table next to their bed was a tray with an assortment of fruits and muffins.

 

With a heartfelt “Hmmm,” Buffy moved to the edge of the bed to eat her breakfast. And tried to think of a way to bring up what still lay between them. She didn’t want to go first, mostly because she didn't know what to say. Or how to bring it up. Or if she even could without bursting into tears. Angel’s presence in the chair next to her was distracting, but she still couldn’t look at him.

 

Sex was all well and good, really, really good, mind-blowing great, but Buffy didn’t want it to be just that. Or…well, not all just that. She wanted to know what Angel thought. Wanted to hear what he wanted to say. Wanted to finally release the tension she carried within her at knowingly cheating on her lover. She wanted to cry in his arms and have him tell her everything was going to be okay.

 

Then she wanted to fuck him senseless.

 

“I did it for you,” she said eventually, but kept her eyes focused on the outside world. Great. Here she was super slayer extraordinaire, afraid to look at the man she loved more than life itself. Pathetic. With supreme force of will, Buffy turned to look at Angel.

 

He was silent, watching her with those dark eyes, a mixture of longing and love and anger swirling in the beautiful depths.

 

“I’d kill for you, Angel,” she admitted softly. “I’d kill and I’d die, and I’d put all of my friends and my mother in danger to keep you safe. I’d even fuck Riley. Because the thought of something happening to you is so unbelievable that I can’t even imagine it. I know I’d lose it. I know I’d never recover. So yes. I’d do anything and everything to keep you out of harm’s way. To make sure that nothing ever happened to you.”

 

She leaned over, touching her lips to his in a gentle show of love. “But I’ll never stop loving you.”

 

Dragging her across their bed, Angel pulled her onto his lap and held her. Simply held her. He said nothing, and Buffy didn’t know what else to say, either, so wrapped herself around him and held tight.

 

“I’m not letting you go,” he swore, voice harsh and urgent, mouth seeking hers. “You’re mine.”

 

Buffy nodded, the guilt that settled heavily in her soul lifting with his words. “I am, as you are mine, beloved.”

 

They fought and they screamed. They argued over the ‘plan’ and their roles in it. They shouted their venom over the past months, Angel over Riley touching Buffy, and Buffy over the fact that he had. Then, as Buffy cried in his arms, sobbing out how much she loved him and hated what she’d done, Angel apologized.

 

“I’ll never let you go,” he vowed again and again. “I swear, beloved. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

 

And they made love. They fucked. They spent hours exploring each other’s bodies and minutes against the wall. And each time, after it was all over, they held onto each other.

 

All trace of Riley was gone; his scent, his name, everything. All that remained was Angel. And when they finally toured Ireland, three weeks after landing, Riley was a dim memory never to be mentioned again.

 

 

 

 

 

Feedback