Prologue ~ Part I ~ Part II ~ Part III ~ Part IV ~ Part V ~ Part VI ~ Part VII ~ Part VIII ~ Part IX ~ Part X

Part XI ~ Part XII ~ Part XIII ~ Part XIV ~ Part XV ~ Part XVI ~ Epilogue

 

 

 

 

 

Secrets and Lies

Written by Gia

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

May 2003.

The imperturbable proprietor of the magic shop and clandestine warlock looked at the young woman with concern as she sat on the floor and cried. He handed her Kleenex after Kleenex and waited patiently until the tears stopped. Then he led her into the back room, made a pot of tea and lit a rolled cigarette that looked suspiciously like a joint.

Angrily, Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes. Angel left her, Riley left her, even Spike had left her. They all left her. And each time it hurt.

She had thought that losing Angel the first time due to a clause in a damned gypsy curse had been painful, but that had easily been surpassed by the tearing out of her heart when she had been forced to send him to hell with Acathla. She had been raw and wounded, the pain refusing to subside as she personally and literally dealt with her own version of hell in the months that followed. Time had eventually begun to work its magic, easing her pain and helping to heal her wounds. Eventually and inexplicably Angel had been returned to her, a miracle that helped to heal what time had not. She opened her heart again, but then he left her. He had ripped her heart out in a sewer; leaving her just before she had a chance to confide in him and just after she had begun to believe that they had a future together.

It had taken her months to recover from the loss of him in her life. She filled her every waking moment with activity, knowing that it did no good to dwell on what she did not and could not have. But her heart had been battered and bruised, and Buffy was unwilling to take chances with it again.

The pain of Riley's leaving, of Spike's leaving - while each hurt, it was never as bad as anything she had been through with Angel. But that was because she never allowed it to be. She had kept the others at a distance, guarding her emotions. Still, she was only human so she did care. She did love. Just never as much.

She had thought she was doing just fine. She thought that she had maturely and confidently tucked Angel away in her memories to be cherished and remembered fondly. Maybe not now, but someday. She had believed that after all the time that had passed that her heart had finally healed and that Angel or any reminders of him could no longer touch her. That she had moved on. That is, until today.

By the time she and Nikkos finished their tea and were feeling somewhat buzzed from whatever it was that they were smoking - Buffy refused to ask what it was - Nikkos had heard Buffy's sad tales of love lost. To see such a young beautiful girl so sad touched his heart.

He had hidden his surprise when she confessed that her lost love had been Angel. He knew the vampire; he was a frequent customer of the magic shop stopping in for books, herbs or other spell ingredients or just the occasional bit of gossip that might prove useful. When Angel found out that Nikkos had known Doyle, they had shared a pint in memory of their mutual friend and had become somewhat friends themselves.

In all the years since they had met, Nikkos also thought he had come to know the vampire's taste in women. He'd met Darla and Cordelia and he'd heard tales of Druscilla. All were beautiful, but vain and shallow creatures who knew the power of their looks over the men that coveted them and worked that to their advantage. And Nikkos had no doubt that there were dozens or perhaps even hundreds of other girls cut from the same mold that had passed through the vampire's long life.

Which made the girl in front of him pique his interest even more. She was undoubtedly beautiful, but that's about as far as her similarity to the other women went. She had strength, character - that he hadn't seen in the others, even in brief glimpses. Yes, she was something different, something unique and rare. Her aura was golden, rich and pure indicating a strong dynamic energy and the presence of higher power. Noting too, the mark on her neck, Nikkos suspected that there might have been more to her relationship with Angel than Buffy had elected to share.

After a long moment of consideration, he suggested something that might help her. Magic. He knew of a spell…

Buffy listened attentively while he explained the ritual, nodding her assent after only a brief hesitation when he finished. Under most circumstances, she would have shunned the idea of magic but with her heart aching and her senses influenced slightly by the unaccustomed smoke, she readily agreed, desperately seeking an escape from the pain threatening to tear her apart.

With calm efficiency, Nikkos gathered the necessary materials together: five white calla lilies from the florist next door, pistachio nuts, a black candle and a pale blue candle. While Buffy watched with eyes still red from her earlier tears, Nikkos dribbled the pistachio nuts into a circle and placed the bouquet in the center, along with the two candles. He sat across from her, both of them cross-legged on his thick, scarred wooden table. He handed her the heavy volume of magic spells along with his own scribbled English version for her to read from. He was superstitious that the caster of the spell hold the book, even though Buffy would not be able to read the ancient Greek language.

His pale blue eyes met hers once more in question. Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat then nodded slowly. At her signal, Nikkos lit the candles and began that spell that would protect the Slayer's heart. He reached for her hands, holding them to form a circle.

He began to speak, his voice resonant and clear in the silent room.

It is the great cold of the heart, it is the dark
The woman lives, she passes, she dies.

Nikkos nodded and Buffy began to read. Her voice wavered at first, then grew stronger.

My heart aches
My soul bleeds
My spirit weeps
Beloved, your vows are all broken
Heart of my heart, you have forgotten me
Soul of my soul, you have deserted me
Blood of my blood, I gave of my life 'til we be done.
Soul of my soul, let it be done. Let us be done.

The words touched her heart. She had thought Angel her soul mate. She had believed in forever. Hadn't he said that to her once? "Forever, that's the whole point?" Or had that simply been a dream? Or just another one of his broken promises?

Tears filled her eyes as Nikkos intoned his lines.

It is the great cold of the heart, it is the dark
The woman lives, she passes, she dies.

When the dark haired warlock finished speaking, Buffy took a deep breath and read the next line of the incantation.

With lilies I mourn, by breath I expel

She blew a soft puff of air across the petals of the lilies. The gesture was symbolic; it was an exhalation of the love within her. She paused, taking a deep breath to quell the surging emotions. This was it. The end. It was finally going to be over for once and for all. She was giving up that last hope that she had been clinging to of ever having Angel in her life.

Let love pass from me, let it fade, let it die.
Let lilies carry the scent of love gone by.
With lilies I mourn, by fire I cleanse

Nikkos reached for Buffy's left hand, drawing it over the flame of the candle burning between them. With a small, sharp knife, he made a cut into her ring finger, just above her palm where a ring would have lain. He allowed a drop of blood to fall into the flame of each candle and then he guided her hand over the lilies, and watched as another drop of blood fell. The crimson liquid was stark against the pristine white petal and Buffy felt a shudder of fear race through her. Her eyes watered and she choked back a sob.

Let love pass from me, let it fade, let it die.
Let lilies carry the stains of love gone by.

As the words fell from her lips, her voice quivering, the lilies changed from white to pink to salmon, eventually becoming the color of the blood that had been dripped on them.

With lilies I mourn, with water I extinguish

The tears that had been threatening rolled down her cheeks, falling into the flowers. Her voice cracked slightly with emotion, the hushed air in the room tense with expectation.

Let love pass from me, let it fade, let it die.
Let lilies carry the water of my life.
Let love fade to indifference
Let love's heat chill to ice

A wind swept over her like a cool breath, it's intensity growing stronger as the incantation progressed.

As everything passes
So everything fades
Fade away....

Nikkos spoke the next lines with reverence, his eyes upward as he felt the magic swirl about them, the room chill and dark. Buffy felt a small tremor of panic as cool air swept over her, but the rhythmic cadence of his deep, sure voice soothed her.

It is the great cold of the heart, it is the dark
The woman lives, she passes, she dies.

Buffy trembled, wetting her lips and shivering slightly with the growing cold. At Nikkos's nod, she continued the spell.

Come great cold, chill my heart
Cast off the bonds that lie between us.

With each word that had been spoken the mark on Buffy's neck had begun to fade. Now the scar from Angel's bite vanished, leaving no discernable trace.

Come great cold, freeze my love
Return the unwanted to the unwanting.

The vase of flowers seemed to shimmer as they faded away before they disappeared completely. Buffy's eyes widened in surprise, but she pressed on with the ritual.

Come great cold, freeze my heart
Marry me and let love never more burn me.

The cut on Buffy's finger began to close and in it's place a mark began to form, encircling her finger.

The blinds on the window clattered as a chill wind whipped into the room. Buffy opened her mouth in a small "o" as the chill air poured into her. She shivered with the cold.

The temperature in the room dropped to biting ice as Buffy spoke the final ringing syllables of the spell.

It is the great cold, it is my heart, it is the dark
I live. I pass. I die.

The wind howled and the blinds rattled again. Outside a dog barked furiously in the distance. The candle flames flickered, but continued to burn. A deep aching cold centered in Buffy's chest, colder and colder until she shivered with a bone deep ache that was so terrible she couldn't breathe. Her eyes widened as the crushing pressure on her chest increased. Then it faded, leaving only the light scent of lilies in its wake.

Buffy blinked, gasping for the air that she had been unable to get during the last part of the ritual. Her first deep exhaled breath came out white, thick fog as the spell solidified around her heart. Her heart that had been beating rapidly was beginning to slow, her earlier fear dissipating along with the rising temperature in the room.

Nikkos lifted her hand, looking for the telltale evidence of the completion of the spell. It was there. Encircling her ring finger was the vine-like mark, thorny and intricate and dark against her skin like a tattoo. She stared at it bemused. Her large hazel eyes met Nikkos's and slowly she smiled. Finally, she shrugged. It looked rather … trendy. After all, tattoos were in.

She felt a curious lightness. There was no more sadness, no more pain. She flexed her fingers and wiggled her toes, as if testing her extremities would somehow validate her new feelings - or rather lack of. Her eyes met Nikkos's once again and she smiled, brightly this time.

Nikkos didn't tell the young girl that there was a loophole to the spell before she left. She had been so pleased with him, so pleased that the ache in her heart had gone, that she hugged him energetically and promised someday to repay the favor. He didn't have the heart to tell her that her true love could break the spell, should he ever find her…

 

 

 

Part I

 

December 2006...

Giles coughed slightly as he walked along the quiet street, searching for his destination. It had been years since he'd last been to Los Angeles and he would have gladly postponed the trip for many more - had he the luxury of time to do so.

He wasn't fond of the big impersonal city teeming with artifice. If it hadn't been absolutely necessary he would never have left the peace and quiet of his cottage outside of London.

There weren't many people on the streets at this time of the evening at this location in LA; after all, it was the day after Christmas. A car drove past and the sounds of "White Christmas" swirled around him in the cool evening air. Someone still hoping to make the Christmas holiday last just a little longer, no doubt.

Giles coughed again as he stopped and surveyed the building in front of him. It was a large and imposing structure, in need of repair, but it was, undoubtedly, the place he was seeking. He could feel it. Even after all these years of not practicing, the magic that he carried inside him still gave him an uncanny ability to recognize the nest, lairs and abodes of creatures of the night.

With a determined look, Giles pushed open the door to the Hyperion. Even before he had crossed into the lobby he heard the sound of Cordelia's laughter coming from somewhere within the hotel. The sound grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

His memory of Cordelia was that of a beautiful but vain, self-centered and arrogant girl. Giles shook his head, as if responding to the questions in his thoughts. He'd never understand how or why Cordelia had become a "higher-being" when so many other good people <like Jenny> lost their lives in the fight against evil. So many others that gave so much, yet were rewarded with so little and yet, Cordelia - who seemed to care only for herself and perhaps Angel - was rewarded so amply. Giles shrugged dismissively, too aware that he couldn't change things, not now, perhaps not ever. But he'd never understand it. The logic of the Powers made no sense.

"Hello. Can I help you?" Fred smiled timidly, looking up from the laptop computer she had been using to research the latest case at Angel Investigations.

She and Gunn were both at the counter when the man entered; he appeared weak and somewhat frail, which made them both suspect immediately that they were looking at their next client.

"Uh, yes. I'm looking for Angel?" Giles attempted to return her smile, but only managed a pained grimace.

"I'll get him. Why don't you sit down?" Gunn cast a worried glance at Fred, handing her their baby daughter Amelia before he moved around the counter to help the man toward the settee.

After he had ensured that the man was comfortably settled, Gunn turned and started up the stairs.

Relieved to have a moment to rest, Giles looked around the lobby. His gaze stopped abruptly when it reached the flowers sitting atop the credenza near the base of the stairs. Without realizing it, he let out a startled "oh my". The five calla lilies arched gracefully out of their container, beautiful in their simplicity. Their beauty was not, however, what attracted his attention.

"Strange, aren't they?" Fred commented, hearing the man's small sound of surprise and noting his intense regard for the vase of flowers.

"Yes. Red is an unusual color for lilies, is it not?" Giles was intrigued by the aberrant flowers; red lilies, to the best of his rather extensive botanical knowledge, were not a natural phenomenon. He could also feel the hum of magic from them along with the faintest whispers of something else… something that he felt that he should recognize, but didn't.

Walking around the counter to stand behind him, as if to impart a confidence, Fred spoke softly. "Yes. They're very pretty though, in a strange way." She kissed her baby daughter's head, frowning slightly and turning the baby away from the flowers as if she didn't want to get to close to them. Despite their beauty, there was something almost eerie about the crimson lilies.

What she didn't say was that the flowers had been in the hotel for over three years. And what she couldn't say, for fear that the kindly man would think that she was crazy, was that every time they threw them out, the flowers simply reappeared. No one knew where they came from or why; they had simply appeared one day. Equally unusual was the fact that Cordelia seemed to treasure them as much as Angel seemed to be repulsed by them. The vampire had a particular aversion to them for some reason that no one, not even Angel himself, understood. It had finally been at his urging that Fred had thrown them out the first time only to have them reappear within minutes. After six or so repeated attempts throw them out over the first few months after they had appeared, including one attempt involving a magic spell, the AI team had simply given up and Cordelia had set the flowers on the credenza out of the way.

Fred frowned thoughtfully in memory. Even that had been a tense negotiation: Cordelia wanting them in their rooms, Angel adamantly refusing. The argument had persisted for days before the seer capitulated and put the flowers back in the lobby.

"Yes, they are." Giles acknowledged pensively, glancing at the baby in the young woman's arms then back at the vase of lilies. The vase itself was a simple blue earthenware pitcher, making the deep crimson red of the flowers even more striking. Removing his glasses, he began to clean them. To anyone who knew him, it was a familiar gesture; one he often used when he was pondering some particular idea or circumstance. There seemed to be particularly strong magic associated with the flowers; and it was … familiar somehow. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Fred shrugged slightly and smiled hesitantly. She supposed that in their line of work, stranger things were bound to happen - and well, actually had happened. Given everything that she had seen in her years at Angel Investigations, ever-blooming flowers that refused to go away were simply not a priority to worry over.

Giles returned her smile almost absently, turning his attention toward the footsteps on the stairs.

Angel's preternatural hearing picked up the sound of the former Watcher's voice even over Cordeila's loud laughter. He stood abruptly, surprising her as he moved to the door.

"What? Angel?" The smile melted off her face as Angel brushed past her. They had been talking about their last case, laughing and sharing anecdotes when the tall vampire suddenly appeared distracted.

Intercepting Gunn on the stairs, Angel simply nodded and made his way past his friend and co-worker down the stairs. He slowed his stride as he reached bottom, approaching the man waiting on the settee with some hesitation. He veered, as was his habit, away from the credenza and the revolting flowers; he'd been doing it so long, he no longer noticed but Giles did - and it made him even more curious about the strange red lilies.

"Giles?" Angel suppressed his surprise at the former Watcher's appearance. Besides his frailty, Angel could clearly detect the scent of death and decay; Buffy's mentor was dying.

"Angel." Giles stood with effort, clearly attempting to conceal his ill health and obvious pain. Once more he attempted a polite smile. Again, he failed.

Angel wasn't sure what to say, what to ask. His mind wouldn't allow him to consider the reasons why Giles would have ventured to LA on the day after Christmas. Last he knew in fact, Giles had moved to England. He'd heard the news through Cordelia's convoluted Sunnydale gossip grapevine. Someone told someone else who told someone else and finally the news reached LA… That had been what? Three years now? Nearly four?

"Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?" The former Watcher asked gravely. Despite the few minutes of conversation with the young woman, Giles didn't know either her or the man that had retrieved Angel from the depths of the hotel, both of whom were now watching them covertly from the counter. Nor did he know the young man that was now crossing the lobby with undisguised curiosity. He was uncomfortable with the idea of revealing his own shortcomings in front of so many strangers.

"Yes. This way." Angel paused for a beat; he was almost afraid of what the two of them would have to talk about that required privacy. Nodding, he turned and started up the stairs toward his rooms, hoping that Giles would be able to make the journey up the stairs but knowing that pride would keep the former Watcher from speaking up.

"Those lilies-" Giles questioned, casting one last look at the crimson blooms as he made to follow Angel up the stairs.

"Are probably cursed. We don't always make friends in this business." Angel glanced over his shoulder, his distaste and loathing of the flowers obvious in the expression on his face. Over a year ago, he'd given up asking Fred to throw them out when she, in her frustration of not being able to get rid of them, had told him to throw them away himself if he wanted them gone. His pride however, refused to allow him to admit to her or to anyone that he couldn't bring himself to touch them, that he had an aversion to them for reasons he didn't understand. So the flowers had simply remained there where Cordelia had put them, unchanged for over three years now. They never wilted. They never died. They never changed in the slightest bit, which further added to Angel's unease about them.

Giles said nothing more, aware of the tension and the vampire's obvious agitation regarding the eerie bouquet. If he had more time, perhaps it would make an interesting diversion to research them. Sighing, he dismissed them from his mind. Time was a luxury that he did not have.

They entered Angel's suite of rooms in silence, Giles concentrating on each step. He was usually stronger than this, but the long trip had sapped his energy. He hadn't given himself the luxury of rest, knowing that every delay only made it harder for him to see this through.

Giles glanced casually around the room, noting the blending of styles, the photographs, and the obvious feminine touches. His eyes finally came to rest on the dyed blond, sitting on the couch and polishing her toenails. Although he had heard her voice earlier, he was still somewhat surprised to see that it was indeed, Cordelia. Next, he drew the obvious conclusion: Angel and Cordelia were clearly living together as a couple.

"Cor? You remember Rupert Giles?" Angel inquired, careful to keep his tone pleasant despite his own nervousness. In the next instant he almost flinched, the sharp scent of nail polish acrid and nearly overwhelming to his sensitive sense of smell.

"Giles!" Cordelia smiled brightly, putting her foot down and twisting the top on the nail polish. She'd seen the flare of Angel's nostrils and she knew that he'd say something to her - again -about her nail polish once Giles left.

"Cordelia. Hello." Giles coughed slightly as he replied, forcing his voice to remain pleasant. Seeing her brought home his earlier resentment that she had been gifted with so much while others that had offered as much or more to the fight against evil had been overlooked.

Giles declined Angel's offer for something to drink then sat on the sofa where Cordelia had been. Angel joined him, sitting in the chair nearby.

The tall vampire searched his mind for polite conversation but was struggling. It was as if his mind had ceased to function, unwilling to entertain ideas as to why the Watcher was here, now.

Cordelia perched on the arm of Angel's chair, sliding her arm around the vampire's shoulder for balance. From Angel's reaction - or rather, lack of reaction - Giles assumed that this was normal and expected behavior. He cleared his throat, attempting to speak. He looked from the former brunette to the vampire again. If anything, Angel appeared to be braced for bad news, his expression shuttered.

Seized with another hacking cough, Giles reached for his handkerchief as the phlegm and blood threatened to choke him. He convulsed helplessly beneath the paroxysm of wrenching coughs, struggling to breath beneath the sticky fluids that congested his lungs and once the wracking had subsided, he cleared his throat and looked up with watery eyes. He was uncomfortable now with Cordelia's stare. Her eyes behind her smile were not friendly, not welcoming. He was unsure if he could ask her to leave them alone and it didn't appear that the thought had even crossed Angel's mind. Standing abruptly, the once Sunnydale High librarian altered his plans.

"I should not have come here," he muttered. Aware that he would be sharing what he considered to be his own as well as Buffy's intimate secrets with someone that would gleefully dance upon her misfortune, someone who would cheerfully celebrate her pain and misery, Giles realized that there was nothing he could say to Angel in her presence. Without another word, he turned and fled, leaving Angel and Cordelia to stare at his retreating back.

"Well, that was just a little too close to Sunnyhell for me." Cordelia frowned, studying her fingernails. She needed a manicure. "And the cough? Ew. Disgusting." Dismissing the brief visit from the past, Cordelia sprang up and went about her business. Angel however, stared at the door thoughtfully.

Arriving back at the hotel, Giles collapsed in an exhausted sleep. He slept until the pain became too great, the gnawing ache waking him and forcing him out of bed.

Carefully he dispensed two drops of morphine under his tongue. He had resorted to the heavy painkiller only a few weeks ago, when both meditation and magic has ceased to work to stave off the debilitating agony. Sighing heavily, he leaned on the bathroom counter and studied his reflection. The trip to the U.S. and then to the Hyperion had been taxing, more so than he had expected. He had chastised himself repeatedly after leaving the hotel, ashamed of his lack of courage and disheartened that he had yet to accomplish the task he had set for himself.

He dropped a cloth in the sink basin and turned on the water. He needed rest. A respite from the pain before his mind would be clear enough to figure out his next step.

The knock that sounded on the door was soft yet insistent. After a few minutes, it was repeated.

"Just a moment." Giles called, dabbing at his face with the damp towel.

He was not entirely surprised when he opened the door to reveal his midnight guest. "Angel."

"Hi." Angel studied the former Watcher in the dim light of the hotel corridor; he was weak and frail, yes, but the old familiar intelligence and strength was still evident in the piercing brown eyes. Giles may have lost ground physically, but mentally he appeared to be in top shape.

"Are you… alone?" Giles questioned softly. The hallway appeared vacant except for Angel, but he wanted to be certain.

"Yes." Angel replied. And he was alone. The tall vampire hadn't told anyone where he was going, or why. He didn't understand it himself, and he certainly didn't want to try to explain his actions to Cordelia or Connor, but something told him that this was important. That Giles would not have sought him out on a whim, especially in his condition. And the feelings that accompanied the possible reasons why alarmed him.

"Would you like to come in?" Giles stepped back and gestured into the room, at the same time taking a deep rattling breath, the morphine beginning to take the edge off the pain. He felt a sense of relief. He hadn't needed another plan. The plan had come to him.

They made idle conversation about the weather, about Giles's flight to LA, about the hotel - inane pleasantries - while they settled in the small sitting room. When the conversation trailed off, they sat for a moment in awkward silence.

"Cordelia and I- It's a long story, but we've been through a lot together and -"

Angel spoke first, breaking the stilted quiet. Somehow he felt that he owed Giles an explanation, like a child that had been caught doing something that they were not supposed to do. It was surely irrational for him to feel this way, wasn't it? There was no need for him to explain himself to anyone. And yet…

Giles interrupted with a wave of his hand. "It's not necessary to explain. It isn't really any of my business."

If he were completely honest, Giles would have had to admit that, while it might not have been any of his business, it did make him angry. Angry that Angel had apparently grown complacent about his existence again, and resentful that the vampire appeared to have all but forgotten about the girl he had left behind in Sunnydale. The girl who, according to a letter Willow had once written him, had admitted that she "loved him more than I will ever love anything in this life."

While going through his desk, attempting to put his affairs in order before the inevitable, Giles had found a stack of letters. Most were from Willow, but there were a few from Buffy and a few from Anya. Feeling a bit nostalgic, he had re-read them all, laughing and smiling and occasionally holding back tears. It had been the re-discovery of that letter in particular that pushed him over the edge; that spun his guilt out of control and sent him on this journey to Los Angeles despite his ill health. He would never be able to take back what he had done, nor could he off true reparation for the pain he had caused, but at least he could do this… for Buffy.

Noticing Angel's stare, Giles returned his thoughts to the conversation at hand. Angel's relationship with Cordelia didn't matter. The truth. That's what mattered now.

Unexpected feelings of remorse washed over Angel as he studied the former Watcher. Why had he come to LA? Was it about Buffy? The smallest whisper of her name through his mind awakened long-buried feelings within him. Feelings he wanted to deny still existed. Feelings that his closest friends - Cordelia, Fred, Lorne - expected him to disclaim. He'd moved on. Hadn't he?

Attempting to slow the morass of uncomfortable thoughts that were surfacing, Angel forced himself to speak. "Why did you come to see me today?"

Giles was not offended by the blunt statement. In fact, he welcomed it. It was the opening he had needed, the prodding to speak his peace.

"I'm dying, but I suppose you knew that."

Angel nodded, his earlier suspicions confirmed.

"Cancer. Incurable. Olivia knows, of course, but no one else."

Who was Olivia? Did it matter? Angel glanced down, noting for the first time the wedding band on the ex-Watcher's left hand. Apparently Giles had married. "No one… in Sunnydale?" Angel found it hard to break old practiced habits of self-restraint: Buffy's name was never mentioned at the Hyperion. It was a rule that Cordelia had insisted on as part of her efforts to prevent him from brooding, to help him move on.

"No. No one." Giles replied, shifting his position slightly as he felt a return of that small tremor of anger. Had Angel moved on so far from Buffy that he could no longer even say her name?

"Buffy doesn't know. Nor do I want to tell her." Deliberately emphasizing her name, with a direct gaze the former Watcher looked back at the vampire. "I'm here because I have something to tell you."

At his words, Angel was flooded with both relief and anxiety. Relief that Giles wasn't here to tell him about Buffy's death and anxiety about what he might say instead. He didn't question his feelings of relief even though he was no longer supposed to be a part of the Slayer's life. Even though he now loved another.

With a small nervous chuckle that came out more like a cough, Giles continued. "Or, rather I should say it's a confession."

Still Angel waited, now tense and curious.

Giles took a deep breath, both to bolster his courage as well as to test the effects of the morphine at dulling his pain. When he spoke, his voice was soft, solemn. "Your soul… well, there is no clause in the curse any longer."

Angel blinked in stunned surprise.

Giles looked away from the gaze that focused on him with sudden intensity before continuing. "Jenny…well, before she died, she had translated the curse and had rewritten it, removing that condition."

Angel rubbed his hand across his eyes, attempting to absorb the news that Giles had just dropped on him. He felt elated and yet, the reminder of Jenny's death brought with it reminders of guilt. She had done this for him and still had died at his hands. Anger began fast overtaking the guilt. Why had he not been told? They had obviously known. Had it been part of some plan to ensure that he continue to suffer? Granted, what his demon had done had been terrible but he suffered that each and every day. There were times when he would have welcomed his own death as an end to the remorse and recriminations. It would have been a far easier fate than suffering as he did every day.

His eyes flashed gold as he returned his gaze to the former Watcher. His eyes were piercing, intimidating. Lesser men would have cowered from that stare alone but Giles stared back, unflinching.

"Why… didn't … someone … tell me?" Angel forced out the words, terse and angry.

Giles could feel the vampire's seething anger. He expected it. He embraced it. It was a small penance that he could pay. And if Angel chose to end his life now in retaliation, then he would welcome that as well. It would be an end to the horrible, wracking pain; the slow degradation of the body while the mind stayed sharp, trapped within a decaying vessel.

"No one else knew that the curse had been changed. Only I." Giles stated firmly. He wanted to make sure that Angel didn't blame the others for his mistakes.

Closing his eyes, Angel attempted to control the pandemonium of emotions threatening to bubble over. It was … relief and anger and confusion tangled up with hope and excitement. It was the lifting of a burden.

"I'm not proud of what I did." Giles replied contritely, coughing slightly as he reached for his handkerchief to dab at his face. There was a touch of weariness in the careful articulation of his words. "It was selfish and wrong."

Angel opened his eyes, returning his gaze to Giles's face. When he spoke, the words came out a low growl. "Then why?"

"I was angry. Angry at you for taking Jenny from me. She was the first woman that I had allowed myself to love that much. It ripped my heart out when she died." Breathing deeply Giles relived that day in his memory. The day he had found her on his bed, the roses strewn on the steps. "Quite honestly, I wanted to hurt you in return. I wanted to punish you for her death. Since I could not have a future with the woman I loved, then I wanted to deny you that as well."

Angel sucked in an unneeded breath. He wasn't sure what to say. Part of him understood the motivations that had led Giles to this. He wanted to, but he couldn't blame him. Before he could speak, the former Watcher continued.

"And, as most attempts at revenge often go, I see now that it failed. Actually, I should say it more than failed, it backfired horribly." Giles went on remorsefully, averting his gaze again. Had he known that the choice he had made would have hurt Buffy so terribly, he liked to think that he would have been a stronger man. That he would have made a different choice.

"What do you mean?" Angel asked. Still reeling from the news, his mind in chaos, he searched for clarification.

"You were used to pain and suffering. Depriving you of love may have been hard, but you had long ago developed skills to cope. Perfected them, in fact. Dealing with all that your demon had done and having to face that when your soul was returned to you - that could not have been easy. Surviving hell and managing to reclaim your humanity - not many could have done that."

Angel nodded slightly in agreement. It was true that he was used to pain, to suffering. He'd spent 80 some odd years in the dark, castigating himself for each and every hurt he had inflicted, each death that left blood on his hands. He had learned, with the help of a golden haired, green-eyed girl that he could be more than what he had been. He had learned to separate himself from his demon. Perhaps most importantly, he had learned to start putting the past behind him and start working toward redemption.

"But Buffy…" At her name, Giles's voice cracked with emotion. His eyes took on a faraway look as he reflected back to those days at Sunnydale High School. "She was so young then. Seventeen and in love for the first time in her life. Idealistic and hopeful, as most of us were at that age." He paused, wiping at this face with his handkerchief and choking back tears. When he regained control of his emotions, he looked at Angel and smiled a rueful smile. "I always forgot how young she was since she dealt with so much, so capably."

With each word, memories of Buffy surged more firmly in Angel's mind. The first time he had seen her on the steps of Hemory. She had been young. Young and sweet and … innocent. She had given him her heart so readily and trustingly. She had believed in him when no one else did. She had accepted him for who he was, man and demon, complete package without reservation. She had done that with such determination, such conviction. Or so he had thought at the time…

"I thought that she would rebound from her relationship with you. That she would heal and move on as most do after a first love." Giles's words interrupted Angel's thoughts, bringing him back to their conversation. Even the Sunnydale High Librarian had believed that what Buffy had felt for the tall vampire had been more like a crush, a fleeting first love that would be remembered fondly on occasion, but would be surpassed someday by something stronger, something real and lasting. He coughed slightly, clearing his throat. "I underestimated her love for you."

Angel opened his mouth to speak, but was unable to form words. He was confused and uncertain. Giles's words had opened up a torrent of feelings inside him that he had not allowed himself to have in years. He felt vulnerable, open and exposed. He stood, restlessly pacing around the small room until he stopped at the window, looking out in to the dark night.

Giles wearily continued, studying Angel's stiff posture. "In my own petty revenge, I failed to see that I hurt the girl I loved like a daughter more than I thought possible." Pausing, the former Watcher attempted to reign in the emotions that were threatening. After a few deep breaths, he began speaking again. "She closed herself off from emotion, from love. Oh, she's had relationships, no doubt. She's a beautiful woman. I'm sure she never lacks for male attention."

At the window, Angel frowned, the image hitting him like a blow. The thought of Buffy with other men shouldn't bother him. That's what he wanted for her. Wasn't it?

"But her relationships are fleeting. I suppose she's never fallen in love again." Giles trailed off, thinking about another letter from Willow, one that had suggested as much. "I know what I did was wrong. I only hope that in time, she may understand. Maybe even come to forgive me."

Giles slumped tiredly against the small sofa closing his eyes. Silence descended in the room. Initially he hadn't seen what he'd done. It was only after a few years and some distance, did he realize that his act of vengeance had hurt Buffy far more than it had ever hurt Angel. Quietly, Giles scoffed, thinking of the irony. Angel had apparently recovered from the loss of love and found another, and had the son that he had told Buffy he could never have. His search for redemption brought him a direct link to the Powers that Be, while the Chosen One was forced to fight the evils of the word unaided. Once again, the injustice struck him forcing a bitter laugh.

Angel turned away from the window hearing the small sound. Buffy's former mentor couldn't hold him responsible for her happiness or lack thereof. He'd left her so she could have all the things that he couldn't give her; a normal life complete with walks in the sunlight, nights spent making love. Something outside of demons and darkness. And children. Was it his fault that she didn't find those things? It wasn't like leaving her had been easy for him. It had taken him a long time to get his life under control, in order. The way he wanted it to be.

"You're wrong." Angel's voice was flat. He no longer believed that Buffy had loved him. He no longer believed that she separated the man from the demon as he once did. Distance from her had given him that objectivity, as had Cordelia's love and support. Over the last few years Cordelia had revealed various truths about Buffy's feelings, about her distaste for his vampiric limitations, about that day when he had been sent to hell.

"About?" Giles queried as he opened his eyes tiredly. In a familiar gesture, he removed his glasses and began to clean them.

"Buffy's so-called love for me." Angel said tersely. Since Giles was in a confessing mood, Angel was ready for the truth. It was important that Buffy's watcher hear the truth. The complete truth. No more pretending.

"Pardon me?" Giles was confused by Angel's words, the bitterness in his voice. The conversation was taking a turn that he had not expected. He put his glasses back on, as if he needed them to clarify what he had just heard.

"There's no need to pretend. I know she was attracted to me at first; she loved the idea of having a dangerous vampire for a boyfriend. She loved the irony, being the Slayer. She even bragged that she'd made a lapdog of the Scourge of Europe. But I know that she tired of that quickly." Angel retorted insolently.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Each word was distinct, carefully enunciated and underscored with outrage. Giles met Angel's gaze unflinchingly. "If you really believe what you're saying, then I wish you had stayed in hell."

The absolute certainty in Giles's voice gave Angel pause. He stared at the former Watcher, waiting for an explanation. His brows lifted in question.

Giles sincerely wished for a stake at that moment along with the physical strength to use it. He then debated on simply throwing the vampire out and being done with this infuriating conversation. But he found he had to speak up. He had to make an attempt to correct the false perceptions that Angel had tossed at him.

"Did you not think it odd that you were returned from hell? And in the precise spot where Buffy had left the ring that you gave her? Do you still believe that the First Evil really brought you back? You, a champion for the Powers that Be?" Giles choked out bitterly. Then he laughed slightly, a sardonic, bitter laugh. He was somewhat amused by the absurd thought and the idea that Angel might actually still believe it. "I did some research after that. Of course, as yet another of my shortcomings, I shared my findings with neither Buffy nor you. Everything I found leads me to say that I honestly believe that her love for you wrested you from the depths of hell."

"She probably wanted to alleviate her guilt since you made sure that I went to hell along with Angelus. Or should I say, *instead* of Angelus? Buffy managed to execute that part of the plan perfectly." Angel lashed out angrily, unwilling to believe Giles when he had come to accept as truth something altogether different.

"What are you saying? You think that Buffy knew that Willow was attempting the curse again? That she wanted to send you to hell? Is that what you're implying?" Giles was incredulous. It was inconceivable that Angel seemed to believe that Buffy sent him - Angel - to hell deliberately.

"Didn't she?" The words came out a hoarse growl. Cordelia had told him how Buffy and Willow had bragged about the flawless execution of their plan. How the 'little Scoobs' as she often called them, had congratulated themselves often that summer on a job well done.

"No." Giles's voice was cold, his expression enraged. "Absolutely not."

Again, Giles's firm conviction, his determined gaze did more to convince Angel to listen than the words themselves.

When Angel remained quiet, contemplating, Giles grew impatient. He sighed disgustedly. "Xander never told her. She went there to do the only thing she thought she could do. You were hell bent on destroying the world. She's the Chosen One. Knowing Buffy would you have expected any less? " Staring back at the vampire challengingly, he waited. "Think before you speak. Make no mistake, love powerful enough to extract someone from a hell dimension is rare indeed."

Angel studied Buffy's former mentor, searching him for signs that would substantiate the truth of his words. The roar of his anger receded as memories of those painful days surfaced.

"I never… she never…" Angel sighed heavily. "We never talked about it. About what happened. And later… I believed that she knew about the attempt to restore my soul before sending me to hell."

It was true that he and Buffy never talked about what had happened after his return from hell. They probably should have, but their relationship had been so tenuous that neither of them wanted to broach the subject. She had been so tentative and afraid to look at him then; it was as if she had something she wanted to say but was afraid of his reaction. He had been equally hesitant. Had her love really been the reason he had been returned from hell? Was it possible that she had loved him that much?

"I'm surprised you can say that, knowing Buffy as you did. She blamed herself because you lost your soul. She felt it had been her fault alone, that she 'killed' you in a selfish moment of passion. Her words, not mine. It's inconceivable to me that you would believe that she never loved you. She proved that to you over and again. She was hellbent on saving you when Spike attempted to kill you to restore Druscilla's health. She went up against the First Evil to save you from yourself." Giles voice rose in outrage. He stood, trembling with anger. "She even risked her own life to save yours from Faith's poison arrow by offering up her own blood, her own life. My god, how much more proof do you need?!" He no longer hoped that Buffy and Angel might find their way back to each other. In fact, he was cheerfully contemplating the vampire's demise at this moment.

Angel wavered. It was true that he did not want to believe that of the girl that he had known. He had never wanted to believe it. She had been so open, so trusting. So loving. She had always been accepting of him, man and demon. She had been the one to make him believe in himself again. When had he begun to believe otherwise? Had he been wrong?

"Did she- does she know about the curse?" Angel ventured, wondering if Giles had told her.

"No. I wasn't sure I could face her." The last he muttered more to himself than to Angel. He had hoped perhaps that telling the vampire who be enough. That perhaps, Angel would tell Buffy… it was cowardly and he knew it.

Angel stared at Giles. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He didn't know what he believed any more. He didn't even know what he wanted; he only knew that he couldn't stay in this small room any longer. He was uncomfortable with the idea that he might have been wrong these last few years.

"Thank you. For telling me." Angel forced out the words as he left. Giles could have taken the information to the grave. He had to at least thank him for that small measure of courtesy, for the truth.

Giles closed his eyes when the door closed. He felt a small measure of solace. The dark secret he had kept all these years had finally been freed.

***
In Sunnydale…

Buffy dropped her bag of weapons just inside the door and kicked it closed with her foot. Flipping on the light switch, she glanced at the answering machine. The number 3 was flashing in bright red. Given that it was late on Christmas Day - make that, early on the day after Christmas, she knew the calls would most likely be from Dawn, Willow and Giles. Xander and Anya rarely called anymore, busy with their own lives since Xander's unfortunate accident that had left him basically an invalid.

She listened absently to the messages as she put water on the stove for tea. Dawn raved about her new boyfriend, Todd, whom she was spending the holidays with at his family's home in New Hampshire, about her classes at U.Mass and finally about the weather. She loved the snow, having not had the chance to experience it first hand in Sunnydale.

"Except that once…" Buffy mumbled to the machine, suddenly remembering that day when it had snowed on Christmas. Pushing aside the memory before it descended into an unwanted reminiscence, she reached for a teacup.

Willow's voice echoed through the small apartment, sounding cheerful and happy. She reiterated her invitation for dinner with firm insistence, wanting Buffy to spend the day with her and Jessie, Willow's partner of just over a year. Even though the red-haired wicca didn't celebrate the holiday, she didn't want her friend to be alone.

Buffy smiled slightly as she nibbled on a cookie, waiting for the start of the next message. There was a pause as if someone were about to speak, then silence. The message beeped without a word.

Shrugging, Buffy hit the reset button to delete the messages and picked up the mail. She sorted through it disinterestedly as she waited for the teakettle to whistle. Briefly she wondered why Giles hadn't called, when he had called every year.

Taking her teacup, she made her way down the short hallway to the bathroom. Setting the cup on the vanity, she started the shower. She hummed as she stripped off her clothes, thinking over the previous week's patrols. The Hellmouth had never been so quiet or so contained. Demons were getting harder and harder to find, and vampires were fast becoming non-existent.

Buffy never once stopped to think that her reputation as an invincible slayer had begun to spread, making all creatures of the night doubly cautious when they ventured any where near Sunnydale. She had become such a ruthlessly efficient hunter, that rumors had even begun to circulate that she possessed powerful magic.

Of course, the truth about the magic would have been just as surprising…

Just over three years ago, during a trip to Los Angeles, Buffy had indeed resorted to magic. She had gone there in search of a very old magic shop, one that was reputed to have the oldest of the Slayer prophecies around. With the First Evil defeated and the potential Slayers sent back home to various parts of the world, she wanted to know what predictions, if any, could be found regarding her future. Or, if nothing else, maybe they would provide some amusement.

She had been combing through the stacks near the back of the shop, when she overhead the tinkling of the bell on the door followed by the conversation of the two men that just entered. The proprietor of the shop called out a greeting to the men, calling them Gunn and Lorne and then proceeded to ask about Angel as he wrapped up a book that the man, Gunn, had apparently been sent to retrieve.

Hearing her ex's name, Buffy peered quietly around the corner, her attention riveted. She briefly felt ashamed for eavesdropping, given that she was unsure if they were talking about her Angel, but it was only a matter of minutes before the question was clarified. Gunn, the green demon that he was with, Lorne, and the shop proprietor had gone on to talk in some depth about Angel, about how he was now reunited with Cordelia - the love of his life, and about his continued hope for reconciliation with Connor, his son.

The demon mentioned something about destiny and a thing called kye-rumption, and how he had known all along that Angel was predestined to be joined with a great warrior. They exclaimed over Cordelia's beauty, and commented on what a great and perfect couple the two of them, Angel and Cordelia, made. Apparently there had been some earlier bumps in the road, but all-in-all it appeared to be a happy ending to what had seemed to be a disastrous tale only a year before.

Realistically, Buffy knew that it shouldn't matter. They were of the past. But each word brought home with sudden, stabbing clarity the truth. *She* was of the past to him.

Each word they spoke chipped at the protective shell she had placed around her heart, breaking it down and allowing the long buried pain to slowly seep through her entire body. Each laugh brought home clearly how far apart they had grown, how much they were no longer part of each other's lives.

Buffy had slumped down against the wall, her eyes filling with unwanted tears as she finally accepted that it was over. Theirs was not going to be a fairytale ending where he realized that she was his true love and that he couldn't live without her. He wouldn't rush back to Sunnydale to sweep her off her feet with heartfelt apologies. She'd never fight beside him again or sleep in his arms at night, and she'd never again be allowed to feel his hard strength pressed against her or to taste his kisses. She never have his children - not that she'd expected too, but there had been a lingering wish - and she'd never grow old with him. He'd perhaps get his Shanshu and become human, only she would never know. She'd die - again - without him, and he might not even know. Worse yet, he probably wouldn't even care.

Even though she thought she had moved on, she realized that somewhere deep in her heart she had held out hope. Hope that one day she and Angel would be allowed to be together… Hope that one day, he would come back to her… But each and every word they spoke hammered away at that hope until there was nothing left. Until hope itself existed no longer. There would be no more chapters in the Buffy and Angel show. The writers of their destiny, the creators of fate, the Powers that Be - whoever was responsible for their lives - had seen to that.

That's when she met Nikkos. He had found her shortly after Gunn and Lorne had left, her large silent tears and heartfelt shaking sobs breaking his heart. When her sobs had subsided, he had led her to the kitchen where he made tea and rolled a joint, listening as she poured out her heart.

And that's when the pain in her heart had finally ended.

Buffy sighed as she stepped into the warm spray of the shower. Nikkos and the magic shop were a distant memory now; the Slayer had never admitted to anyone what she had done. And if any of her friends had suspected, they never mentioned it. Only once had Dawn had commented on her 'tattoo' - the intricate vine complete with thorns that wrapped around her ring finger. Buffy had dismissed it as a whim - saying she wanted it as a reminder that true love was something that existed only in fairy tales and movies, or for people that were not Slayers. Dawn raised her eyebrows at her sister's cynicism, but had no reason to question it. After all, it had been around that time that Spike had left Sunnydale - finally abandoning his attempts at a relationship with the blonde Slayer.

As had been her routine for the last year and a half, Buffy climbed into bed after her shower and sighed comfortably against the clean, cool sheets. She dozed off, unaware that her life was about to change.

In LA…

Connor quietly and carefully picked the lock on the hotel room. When the deadbolt clicked, he carefully and slowly pushed the door forward waiting for the sounds of a chain or other type of bolt latch to prevent his entry. Finding none, he smiled and exhaled softly, thinking about the stupidity of tourists that didn't set their room locks properly.

It had been almost two hours since Angel had left, and little over an hour since the old man had turned out the light. Not wanting to risk getting caught, Connor had allowed sufficient time to ensure that the man was fast asleep before he had attempted to enter the room.

It was only sheer luck that had kept him from being discovered eavesdropping when Angel abruptly left the room. Connor had been standing, stretching his legs when he heard the knob on the door turn, giving him much needed seconds to duck out of sight. The bits of conversation he had heard through the door had intrigued him, but it had been his father's sudden exit along with his apparent anger or distress as he swept out of the room that had cemented his need to know more.

Stealthily, the young man crept into the room giving his eyes time to adjust to the dark. He was well versed in the necessary tactics needed to sneak into the room unnoticed. His feet moved soundlessly on the carpeted floor as he searched the small sitting room. He could hear the deep breathing of the man sleeping in the next room as he made his way carefully to the small suitcase sitting just inside the closet between the two rooms. Pausing every so often to listen, making sure that the man's breathing was unchanged, Connor pawed through the suitcase, looking for anything of interest. Finding only a leather-bound journal, he pulled it out and tucked it carefully in the interior of his jacket. He then searched the small bedroom and bathroom, noting the vials of unmarked medications but nothing else of interest.

As quietly as he had entered, Connor left.

After leaving Giles, Angel walked the streets of LA for a while, his mind in turmoil. He didn't know now what to think or believe. He didn't know what he wanted. He hadn't allowed himself to think of Buffy in years, and yet now she was all he could think about.

Ducking into a dimly lit bar, Angel took a table in the corner and ordered a scotch neat, a gesture that would allow him to blend in with all of the other patrons in the run down establishment. He ignored the curious and interested glances from the two women at the bar, and toyed with the glass, lost in thought.

In his mind he attempted to replay the day that Buffy had sent him to hell with Acathla. The memories were distant, mostly belonging to the demon, but they were there none-the-less. He grimaced slightly as he recalled that Angelus had nearly done her in - but she had fought back bravely and skillfully. He remembered holding her in his arms; he remembered her soft words "Close your eyes" along with the catch in her breath as she spoke them. He felt her tears on his face as she kissed him and told him that she loved him. The next feeling was the sword piercing his stomach. He closed his eyes. He could still see the expression of horror on her face, the tears.

Suddenly the small bar felt too small, too confining. He stood abruptly and dropped money on the table to pay for his untouched drink. In the blink of an eye he was gone, his preternatural instincts taking over in his agitation.

In the cool night air, Angel calmed but his earlier thoughts returned. Had Buffy been duped? Was Giles telling the truth when he said that Xander hadn't told her? Xander. Angel scoffed. Of course Xander wouldn't have told her the truth. The boy had always hated him, had always resented his relationship with Buffy. Furthermore, the boy was certainly capable of attempting to exact petty revenge and wouldn't be above using his friends to do so.

But what about the things that Cordelia had told him? That Buffy and Willow had bragged about their successful plan over and over throughout the summer. She had known because she had been dating Xander at the time. Had Cordelia misunderstood?

He didn't know what Buffy had said later, but his gut told him that she hadn't known about it at the time. Her surprise and her distress had been genuine. Angel shrugged, closing his eyes and rolling his head from side to side attempting to release the tension in his neck and shoulders. He also knew that she didn't have a choice. The portal to hell was open and his blood was needed to close it. She did what she had to do. He couldn't blame her for that.

Crossing the street, Angel's thoughts shifted to Giles's other statement. That Buffy had loved him enough to wrest him from hell. Was that possible? His mind was flooded suddenly with memories of her smiling face, her sweet kisses. She had been so open, so trusting. So loving. She had always been accepting of him, man and demon. She had been the one to make him believe in himself again. But had she really loved him that much? Giles seemed to think so.

He himself had thought so once. But later he believed that it had only been a crush. It wasn't real love, was it? Then why was she so determined to save his life? Why had she offered herself that day rather than let him die…? His mind veered sharply away from further thoughts in that direction. If she had loved him that much, then what he had done - breaking up with her in a sewer, leaving her alone - seemed … wrong somehow.

It was easier now to believe that she hadn't really loved him.

Nearing the hotel with the scent of dawn beginning to fill his senses, Angel ruthlessly crushed the reawakened feelings. He reminded himself that he had a new life now, a new love, even a family. With deliberate emphasis, he told himself that he was happy. That his life now was exactly what he'd wanted for years; he'd been allowed to have it because he's earned it.

None of which accounted for his sullen disposition.

When he entered the hotel no one was about. Gratefully, he made his way to his rooms and sank onto the couch in a tired sprawl. For some reason, he found the thought of climbing into his bed next to an assuredly sleeping Cordelia, disagreeable despite decisions made in the night.

He tossed and turned for a long while before finally finding a comfortable position. A few hours after he drifted off to sleep he began to dream…

He was walking the streets of LA again, only this time with a purpose. He was seeking something or someone. As he approached the tall brick building, the people that he passed all watched him, as if they knew him and had expected him. They whispered to themselves, but he ignored them, stopping in front of the building.

There were small blue lights on either side of a nondescript door. He opened the door and went inside, pushing his way through the crowded room. It was nightclub of sorts, almost a football field in size. Every so often along the wall there was a platform surrounded with golden bars like a cage; the base of the curved platform was at eye level and inside each cage was a woman scantily dressed and dancing erotically to the insistent beat of the music. The crowd was thick in the club, more so around each girl. He had to push his way through the throngs of people to reach the front in order to look up and see the girls faces. He repeated this maneuver over and over again until he approached the last cage at the far end of the club.

This cage was different from all the others. The base and top appeared to be glass covered with tiny white crystals, sparkling like a pristine snow bank on a sunny winter day. The bars of the cage were clear and thick. On closer inspection, they appeared to be ice. A blue light illuminated the girl inside. As he drew closer the crowd parted easily and ultimately disappeared, leaving him alone with the blonde dancer.

The girl inside the cage was facing away from him. She was wearing white knee high boots and a tiny blue skirt that hung low on her hips, barely covering the rounded curve of her behind. Her long blonde hair effectively hid her back, as she dropped her head back and swayed to the music.

"Angel." Her voice sounded as if it were coming at him from a distance, calling his name. Angel stepped closer expectantly as the girl turned to face him. "Angel."

In the next instant, the girl in his dreams vanished. "Angel!" Cordelia said irritably as she shook his arm, harder this time, waking him.

Angel blinked, his eyes focusing on the woman leaning over him. He felt a strange sense of disappointment. Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he sat up.

"Wake up. You've been sleeping here on the couch all day." Cordelia admonished, offended that he had not joined her in bed when he returned near dawn.

"What time is it?" Angel asked unenthusiastically, still tired from his fitful night of sleep on the couch.

"After 5. I was worried about you. You left without saying where you were going, and then when you didn't come to bed I thought that you'd run into a stake somewhere." Cordelia groused, crossing her arms across her chest. "Honestly. At least call or something. Or answer your cellphone."

"Sorry. I- I had a lot on my mind." Angel replied apologetically, studying her under his lashes and noting her tense and worried expression. He couldn't help but look at Cordelia with new eyes. Had she lied to him about Buffy's culpability in sending him to hell? If so, why? Or had it just been an honest mistake? A misunderstanding?

"Well, you know I worry. I love you." Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, Cordelia turned away. Since Giles had been there Cordelia has been flustered. She had no idea what Buffy's former watcher wanted there, but she knew she didn't like it. Anything Buffy related always smacked of trouble, particularly for Angel.

For the briefest moment, her words struck him as insincere, rehearsed, and Angel shook himself mentally. He had no cause to doubt Cordelia. The gentle seer had been with him since the beginning. But sometimes he couldn't help but notice that her gentle concern did not extend to anyone outside their small circle… He was reminded then of her comments about Giles's illness yesterday, about her concern last week about blood stains on her clothing rather than the girl that had been seriously injured by the demon they had been tracking…

"Did you find out anything on the St. John case?"

Cordelia's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"No. I'll look into it today." Angel sighed and stood, heading to the shower.

"Okay. But be careful okay? And call? I need to know where you are, if you're okay." She smiled at him then turned and left the room.

Cordelia's concern reassured him that he was doing the right thing. He had the right relationship; he was happy.

 

 

 

Part II

 

When Angel joined the team downstairs, he attempted to work on the St. John case as Cordelia had requested, but found it difficult to concentrate. He absently toyed with objects on his desk, twirled his pencil and disinterestedly opened and closed the case files in front of him.

Even though he'd thought them resolved in the ruminations of the night, the things that Giles had told him yesterday continued to prey on his mind. If Buffy had really not known about the attempt to return his soul, then why had Cordelia believed otherwise? Had Buffy really loved him as much as Giles seemed to believe?

The dream he had also played through his mind; flashes of it popping up at inopportune moments. It seemed prophetic somehow and connected to the whirl of unwanted thoughts continuing to ebb and flow through his consciousness. He was strangely curious about the identity of the unknown fantasy girl, as if her identity somehow mattered. As if she was a missing piece of the puzzle his brain was trying to solve.

Cordelia laughed, drawing Angel's attention. Glancing up at her as she was smiling and laughing at something Gunn had said, he was also struck with the thought that he hadn't told her the news about his soul. Why hadn't he simply woke her up when he returned to the hotel and celebrated the news as he had once imagined he would… by indulging in a veritable marathon of sensual pleasure, making love for hours on end? That had been the dream, hadn't it?

Angel shifted uncomfortably on his chair, picking up the pad of paper that sat in front of him. That had been the dream, but that had been years ago. That dream and others like it had been abandoned long ago, not long after he had left Sunnydale. His eyes returned once more to dyed blonde at the counter. That still didn't answer his question; why hadn't he shared his news with his new love? If not this morning, then why then hadn't he told her this afternoon when she had awakened him? Why the hesitation?

Sighing heavily, Angel once more shifted his position at the desk. He could find no explanation for his reluctance to confide in Cordelia, yet it was there nonetheless. Absently, he began to sketch on the pad of paper in front of him, his mind still filled with a jumble of confused thoughts.

The vampire's agitation was obvious to Cordelia and Lorne, both of them shooting him covert inquiring looks periodically over the course of the evening. Fred and Gunn seemed oblivious to his tension, alternating research with playful arguments over who had last changed baby Amelia. Connor, if he was aware of anything other than the video game he was playing, gave no sign of it.

After another two hours of unproductive effort, Angel sighed with frustration. He pushed away from the desk, deciding that maybe physical activity would be a better choice for releasing some of the tension coiled up inside him. When he left the room, both Cordelia and Lorne watched him with questioning eyes.

Over the next hour or so after Angel left, the rest of the AI team gradually disbanded. Lorne had a gig at a nearby club, Cordelia was off to do laundry and Conner went off to do whatever it was he did with his evenings. Gunn had gone to put Amelia to bed, leaving Fred to finish any last bits of research and put away the files.

Retrieving a small stack of papers from the printer, Fred made her way to Angel's desk where she had left several case files earlier that afternoon. The yellow legal pad of paper caught her eye and she paused, picking it up and flipping through the various pages in bemused surprise.

She had heard that Angel was somewhat of an artist, drawing or sketching occasionally, but she had never really seen any of his work. He was too private or perhaps too modest to really show any of his drawings to anyone else. The various quick sketches of the woman he had drawn were remarkable, the lines simple and elegant. His talent was obvious, as was the apparent feelings of reverence he seemed to have for his subject. The woman he had drawn was beautiful, smiling slightly in one sketch, looking impish in another, gazing sadly though a smoky cloud in yet another.

Fred glanced at all the figures, nearly blushing when she reached the last picture. It was the same woman as all of the others, only in this sketch she was lying on a bed, nude. Despite the simplicity of the drawing, it was a sensual picture, as if the woman were waiting for her lover.

Suddenly feeling as if she had somehow violated Angel's privacy, Fred hurriedly placed the pad of paper in the back of his desk drawer and slammed it shut. She looked around guiltily. As the initial panic dissipated, she wondered if perhaps Angel was having an affair. The woman wasn't someone she recognized, and yet the drawings suggested an obviously intimate association.

With a worried frown, the brunette toyed with the handle on the drawer. She was truly fond of Angel and wanted him to be happy but she also felt a sense of loyalty to Cordelia; ever since returning from Pylea, the seer had been her only female friend, willingly offering her support and tips on how to improve her appearance…But Angel…Angel was the one who had rescued her. If Gunn were having an affair and Cordelia knew, she'd want Cordelia to tell her, right? On the other hand, Cordelia would make everyone at AI miserable, especially Angel, if she found out that he had been drawing likenesses of other women even if just in absent-minded doodles.

Fred chewed her lower lip for few more minutes while she considered what she should do. Finally she opened the drawer again and withdrew the pad. She'd ask Angel about it later and insist that he tell Cordelia the truth if there was something to tell. If there was nothing to tell, then Angel could do what he wished with the sketches. Either way, there was no sense in risking Cordelia finding these just yet.

Tucking the pad carefully between two files, Fred stuck all of the items in her desk. She locked the drawer then pocketed the key before making her way up stairs.

***
After an hour of practicing various martial arts, Angel hit the shower then the street. He crept quietly out of the hotel, avoiding everyone in hopes that he could get his head on straight before he was confronted with the inevitable barrage of questions for which he had no answers.

He wandered aimlessly for a while before detecting the scent of fresh blood. The smell led him into an alley where, after only a brief search, he found the body of a woman. She had, unfortunately, been a vampire's recent meal. With senses now on full alert, Angel opened the door of the building at the end of the alley, the only other exit that the vampire could have taken without having passed Angel on the street.

The first thing that struck him when he opened the door was the cold. The building was an old and somewhat dilapidated ice rink. The lights, however, were on but the place appeared to be largely deserted. Or so he thought.

As if on some unspoken cue, music began to play softly from a portable stereo set up on the edge of the rink. Angel stealthily moved closer just as a blonde woman skated across the ice with grace and poise. Her petite blonde figure drew his eye, her size and coloring reminiscent of a certain Sunnydale Slayer.

Dropping back in the shadows to avoid being seen, Angel watched mesmerized as she performed her routine, his search for the vampire temporarily forgotten.

The girl laughed as she completed a short jumping turn and looked over her shoulder.

Angel followed her gaze, noticing for the first time the dark haired man waiting for her on the edge of the rink. He was smiling at her in response to her laugh.

As the song ended, she skated over to the waiting man, laughing again as he caught her in his arms and swung her around before he bent to kiss her.

Now feeling like an interloper, Angel averted his eyes and resumed his search for the vampire that he suspected was still lurking nearby.

As he moved through the shadows the girl's soft murmur triggered a memory, and Angel found himself thinking back to the time when he had taken Buffy ice skating all those years ago. He had been beyond worried when the man that had attacked her had turned out to be an assassin from the Order of Taraka. But Buffy's concern had only been for him and for the superficial cut over his eye. He had attempted to turn away from her worried face, ashamed of his demonic visage, but she had tenderly turned him back to face her as she trailed her fingertips gently over the ridges that proclaimed his primal nature before pressing her lips to his, indifferent to his demonic countenance.

Angel paused and closed his eyes, letting the distant memory of her kiss take over. Her kisses had been so sweet, so eager. She had explored his fangs with her tongue, tentatively at first, testing their sharpness and then, with a small breathy moan, she had passionately possessed his mouth. There had been no hesitation, no revulsion, no fear, only hot, eager, and wet kisses while she tenderly caressed the contours of his face, the ridges in his brow.

The memory was in direct contrast to Cordelia's words that Buffy had hated his demon's face, had been disgusted by his kisses - complaining that she often expected him to taste of blood. His thoughts shifted to Cordelia; *she* avoided him when he was in game face. In fact, she had told him once not to come near her while he looked 'like that'. The contrast between their responses was startling and abrasive, like a shock of icy water being dashed into his face. His eyes opened with a start.

Before he could come to any conclusions regarding his ruminations, a flash of movement caught his attention. Any further thoughts about the Slayer would have to wait. Angel spied the vampire he had been searching for slipping silently out the door. Moving quickly and noiselessly through the darkened rink, he spared one more thoughtful glace at the couple, now holding hands and making their way off the ice.

Outside the ice rink, Angel quickly and efficiently captured and dispatched the rogue vampire without a sound. The souled vampire turned and walked away before the dust of the slain demon had even completely settled on the ground.

***
With bored indifference Connor lay on his bed and flipped through the leather bound journal that he had stolen from the old man's hotel room the night before. He wasn't particularly interested in reading the neatly penned entries, preferring visual stimulation to the effort required to make sense of the various words.

His eyes widened in surprised interest when he flipped the next page back to reveal a photograph. Picking up the picture, he studied it carefully. It was a group shot, apparently taken at a birthday party as evidenced by the balloons and the party hat worn by one girl in the picture.

Connor recognized Angel and Cordelia immediately, but the others were unfamiliar. A petite blonde stood in front of his father, cheeks flushed and smiling happily, her arms resting on his, which encircled her waist. Angel himself was smiling slightly, his expression almost mischievous as if he might have been whispering something to make the girl blush just before the picture had been taken. On one side of them stood a red haired girl in a party hair smiling brightly along with a guy with reddish-blond hair and a straight-faced expression. On the other side of his father and the girl stood a guy with dark hair and a goofy grin and Cordelia, the only one of the group that didn't appear to be having a good time. Her expression was pursed and somewhat envious, her eyes looking toward the couple in the center of the picture rather than at the camera.

The only thing written on the back of the picture was a date: January 1998.

Connor rolled over on his back on the bed, holding the picture out in front of him. He'd never really seen his father looks so … happy, almost playful. Who was the tiny blonde? Was she the Buffy that Angel and the old man had been arguing about? She seemed so … small. Angel's once spoken words to him once echoed through his mind… But then I got stuck in a hell dimension by my girlfriend one time for a hundred years, so three months under the ocean actually gave me perspective. Could she really have been the girlfriend that had sent the vampire to a hell dimension?

It was just after ten pm, and Angel had been in the training room when Connor had come up the stairs, but he'd seen his father's black GTX leave the hotel not long ago.

Taking the picture and the journal, Connor crept quietly along the hallway to the rooms that his father and Cordelia shared. As he pushed open the door, he could hear the sounds of Cordelia humming and singing along with some song on the radio. He smiled.

Silently, Connor made his way into the bedroom. The dyed blonde seer was facing away from him, folding the laundry that she had dropped on the bed. He tiptoed up behind her and gave her a nipping kiss on the back of her neck. Cordelia swung around and nearly knocked the young man backward in her surprise.

"Connor!" The former brunette hissed, glancing at the door nervously.

"What?" Connor grinned, enjoying her nervousness.

"You know we can't be in here. Together." Cordelia glanced anxiously at the door again, her voice low and irritated.

Snatching the wispy lace panties out of her hand, Connor held them up to his lips. "So? He's not here. He went out again."

Cordelia snatched her panties back from his hand, a disgruntled expression on her face. "Even so, you know we shouldn't meet here."

Connor shrugged, unconcerned. He sat down on the bed and watched her as she moved around the room, putting away her clean clothing.

Cordelia snapped off the radio. Angel was quiet enough; she didn't need the additional interference of the radio if she wanted a chance at hearing him return.

After a few minutes, Connor suggested with a smirk, "Hey - why don't you put those flowers that he hates so much in here? He'll stay away and then I can *come* more often."

The dyed blonde seer rolled her eyes at Connor who was grinning heartily at his own pun. After a brief pause, she shook her head and laughed. "Well, he does go out of his way to avoid them, that's for sure. You'd think they were crosses and the vase was full of holy water or something."

Laughing in reply, Connor leaned back on one elbow on the bed. He held up the book that he had brought with him. Mischievously, he grinned at her. "Look what I took from the old man."

"What is it? And what old man?" Cordelia glanced at the object uncertainly, her fears not completely assuaged at being alone with Connor in the room that she and Angel shared. She was, however, unable to disguise the curiosity in her voice. "Giles? Did you take that from Giles?"

"I dunno. I guess. It's some book. But look at this. It was in the book." Pulling the picture out of the book, Connor held it out for her inspection.

Fluffing her hair and applying a fresh coat of lipstick, Cordelia glanced at Connor in the mirror. When she finished, she crossed the room to look at the picture.

"Oh, god. Look at me." Cordelia studied her outfit, her hair. She looked… perfect. The only thing that was perhaps not perfect was the expression on her face, and for that she could blame Giles. He had obviously taken the picture when she was not quite ready.

"Who's she?" Connor asked, pointing at Buffy.

"Nobody. She's nobody." Lifting her nose in the air and sniffing slightly, Cordelia jerked her arm back when Connor made to grab the picture back from her. She shot him an irritated glance and then looked back at the paper image.

"Really. Does nobody have a name?" Connor prodded, wanting to confirm the identity of the girl in his father's arms.

"Buffy." Cordelia sneered, compressing her lips and looking at him with annoyance. She held the photograph protectively, glowering down at the image of her boyfriend's arms wrapped around her former rival.

"Buffy, huh?" Connor snatched the picture out of her hand, his quick speed rivaling his father's, and looked at her bemused grin.

"Yes, Buffy. Buffy the vampire slayer." The words came out in a mocking fashion, Cordelia unable to hide her feelings of envy and loathing for the blonde Slayer. "Vampire layer, more like." The last she uttered under her breath but Connor heard, his acute sense of hearing yet another thing he had inherited from his demon parents.

"Slayer, huh?" Connor looked back at the picture, his interest even more piqued. Holtz had taught him a lot of things about vampires, including the fact that there existed a Slayer. One girl in all the world chosen to slay vampires. Yet, here she stood with a vampire's arms wrapped around her.

" *Vampire* slayer." Cordelia sniffed. Buffy may be the vampire slayer, but *she*, Cordelia, was the slayer when it came to men and to dating. She'd even said as much to the diminutive blonde once, specifically in regards to Angel. And well, Angel was here with her now… which only proved that Cordelia Chase was always right.

"So, uh, he knew that right?"

"Who? Angel?" Cordelia sat on the bed, annoyed with her young lover's persistence. "Yes, of course he did."

"And she knew he's a vampire?" Connor's tone was incredulous; the facts revealed about his father's past were surprising.

"Duh. Yes." Cordelia rolled her eyes as she crossed her legs provocatively, her eyes critically assessing their long length revealed by the short skirt and finding no flaws.

Connor looked at her from the corner of his eye and added slyly, "She's hot." Knowing Cordelia as he did, the statement was a deliberate attempt to provoke her into revealing more information about the girl in the picture.

"What?! What are you talking about? She is so not hot. Look at the hair. And that outfit. That is so not hot." Cordelia stated indignantly, daring Connor to contradict her.

Connor sat the picture and journal aside, unaware of the letters that fell out of the book to the floor, dropping between the night table and the bed unnoticed. Taking Cordelia's hands in his hands, he pulled her down to him.

"She's not … as beautiful … as you." Between kisses, he reassured her firmly of her appeal. When Cordelia softened, he wrapped his arms around her and rolled her beneath him, continuing to whisper soothing words of flattery and devotion to her.

"Connor! Have you lost your mind?" Despite her fears of being caught, Cordelia was beyond flattered that her young lover was so insistent. She loved the fact that he acted like he was starved for her affections, that he could wait no longer to be with her, to make love to her.

"I can't wait." Pressing impatient kisses to her face and hair, Connor worked at the buttons on her shirt. Cordelia's hands slipped under the t-shirt that he wore, tugging it over his head as he slipped her shirt back over her shoulders. She pressed kisses to his chest as his hands unhooked the bra that she wore. She shivered with desire when he tossed it aside, his hands greedily cupping the mounds of flesh as he lowered his head to take one hard peak in his mouth.

With growing excitement, Cordelia unbuttoned Connor's pants and pushed them down his hips. He groaned with delight when her hand traced his erection. Urgently he pulled off her skirt, tearing it in his haste. He traced a path along her hips reverently with his hands before following with his lips. Removing her lacy undergarments, he buried his face between her legs, lapping at her damp flesh as she had taught him.

When Connor moved over her, his eyes dark with passion that would wait no longer, Cordelia felt a surge of power course through her. She had control of him. She pulled his head down to hers, meeting his lips in a hungry kiss.

Like always, the passion between them burned hot, anxious and demanding. She grabbed his hips, guiding him harder, faster. Connor obediently followed her lead, reaching between their bodies to pluck at the sensitive flesh between her legs the way she had shown him.

Cordelia sighed as she felt the stirrings of her orgasm. She wrapped her legs around his waist and reached down to guide the movements of his hand on her body. Even after three years, Connor wasn't quite as skilled in the carnal arts as his father, but his eagerness to please her and his warm body heat beat out the feel of Angel's cool skin against hers any day.

It wasn't long before she cried out, Connor following soon after, collapsing on top of her.

Lazily the couple drowsed on the bed, sated and content. Connor stroked Cordelia's bare flesh, enjoying the feel of her skin. Making love to her in the bed she shared with Angel had been even better than he had ever imagined. How he'd love to see his father's face now. Connor grinned in delight envisioning his father's pained expression.

Glancing at Cordelia, his thoughts returned to their earlier conversation. He still wanted to know about more about the girl in the picture. What had she been to Angel?

Rolling on his side, Connor kissed Cordelia's shoulder. She smiled. Her eyes were still closed as she turned over onto her stomach so that he could rub her back.

"You're amazing." He whispered softly, a smile in his voice. His hand moved lightly up and down her back, soothing and massaging with firm, sure strokes.

"Really?" Cordelia murmured into the pillow groggily.

"I don't know how *Dad* leaves you alone. I'd never even leave the bed with you here." Forcing the bitterness out of his voice, Connor continued stroking along Cordelia's bare back. He wasn't completely successful though and the word "Dad" came out sarcastic and sharp.

"Me either. But when duty calls he does go running." She muttered, glowering resentfully into the pillow even as she sighed with pleasure.

"Yeah, well. He's not real smart." Connor replied resentfully.

"Um… I guess." Cordelia murmured in reply, enjoying Connor's attentions, his warm hands stroking her back.

Pushing away the unsavory thoughts of his father with his love, Connor returned his attention to her. "You're skin, it's so smooth, so perfect. You smell so good." He murmured as he nuzzled the nape of her neck, pressing his lips to her bared skin. "Your hair. It's so soft."

Connor lifted his head and reached for the picture still on the table near the bed.

"Why'd you change the color of your hair?" Connor probed, pensively considering how he was going to extract the information that he wanted from his lover.

"I dunno. I just wanted to I guess." Cordelia replied hesitantly. She'd never admit that she had done it because she had believed that Angel preferred blondes. That it would improve her chances to attract - and keep - his interest.

Connor glanced at the photo again an idea forming. A slow cunning smile crossed his face. "You know, it looks kinda like hers does in this picture. You know, the blonde. What was her name again? Buffy?"

Cordelia rolled quickly and whipped her head to look at her, her eyes ablaze with anger. "It does not. I am nothing like that tramp. Nothing. She's nothing. A nobody."

"Sorry, sweet. You know I didn't mean it like that." Connor schooled his features to innocence, looking appropriately chastised.

"Fine." Cordelia sniffed, somewhat mollified. After a few moments, she allowed him to pull her back down against him and she nestled against his shoulder.

"So… did he date her or what?" Connor asked, once more pondering the picture.

"Christ, Connor. What are you so fucking interested in Buffy all the sudden?" Cordelia snapped, this time rolling off the bed and reaching for her clothes, old jealousies and insecurities rushing to the forefront. "Yes. He dated her. Hell, he even fucked her. Is that what you wanted to know?"

Craftily, Connor watched Cordelia dress, her movements jerky in her anger. He knew he could provoke her to say things in anger that she might otherwise attempt to suppress. He shrugged when she stopped to look at him, her brows lifting in question.

"Just curious. I've never seen *Dad* look like this before. Like... happy."

"Happy my ass! That's a laugh. Happy?! That little slut cost him his soul. Then she sent him to a hell dimension. Ask him about it sometime - I'm sure he'll say he was *real* happy." Cordelia scathingly retorted.

Connor remembered a vague statement that he'd overheard the night before while listening through the hotel room door, something the old man said about the girl's love being the thing that had extracted Angel from hell. "So what? He got out outta hell and came here?"

"Yes. No. Well, not right away." Frustrated, Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, the whole Buffy and Angel story goes like this… they met, they fucked, Angel lost his soul and killed half the senior class while slay-gal Buffy did nothing. She just didn't have the skills to kill him." Smugly, she crossed her arms across her chest, revealing the past as she liked to remember it.

"She did send him to hell, he got out and they tried round two. Of course, they couldn't exactly do *anything* since he was cursed and all. There was this one moment of true happiness thing - and so he finally wised up and realized that she was a worthless piece of nobody, so he dumped her and came to LA. With me." Cordelia preened, smoothing a hand over her hair as she told Connor the story the way she would have liked for it to have been.

"Of course, that was after she pathetically tried to keep him in Sunnydale. Faith shot him with a poison arrow and Buffy forced him to feed off of her."

Connor sat up from his reclining position on the bed at Cordelia's words. He inhaled slowly, raking his fingers through his hair as his every nerve stood on end. "He… fed off of her? I didn't think he … ate … humans anymore."

"Yes, he fed off her. Left a nasty scar too." The disgust was obvious in her voice as Cordelia pulled on her skirt, frowning at the tear in the waistband. Stripping it off, she moved toward the closet. "I hear she told people it was an angry puppy. You think Angel would like being called an angry puppy?" Laughing slightly, she perused the items hanging in the closet.

Connor sat motionless, his form tense as she stared back at his lover. Angel had bit the girl, fed off her and she had survived? She was scarred now, as in marked? Marked meant mate. Holtz taught him many things about vampires; first and foremost was how to find their weakness. A mate was almost always a weakness. And regardless of what he felt for her now, vampires, like most demons, tended to take only one mate for life…

Cordelia selected a new dress from the closet and pulled it on before turning back to look at the young man still sitting on the bed.

Even though he hadn't said a word, Connor's obvious tension irritated Cordelia sending her temper flaring. "Before you go all vampire folklore on me about 'he marked her' let me tell you something - it meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Noth-thing. He was sick and she forced him. It was just an instinct. Any warm body would have done just as well. She was just trying to be all noble and self-sacrificing. If it would have meant *anything* to him he would have stayed. But he didn't. He left. He ditched her and he never even looked back."

Connor nodded slowly intending to agree with her to keep her pacified as he mulled over her words, but his brow lifted skeptically.

Stomping forward, Cordelia snapped her fingers in Connor's face, drawing his attention back to her. "Hey! If he wanted her, then why isn't he with her now? Do you see her here? No? Has Angel ever mentioned her except once in complaint? No. Angel's with me now. He loves me." She raged at her young lover's reluctant agreement, her voice loud and angry.

Connor suppressed his own jealousy and hurt at Cordelia's words. He hated sharing her with Angel and hated hiding their relationship. *They* belonged together. Not she and Angel. And he hated even more that she didn't seem to acknowledge that. That she kept telling him that they needed to wait until the Powers told her that her job was done.

Cordelia went on ranting, unaware or perhaps unconcerned that she was stomping on her young lover's feelings. "He loves me more than he ever loved her. Did he take care of her after the giant snake thingy that almost ate us? No, he held me and walked me home. Did he go to help her fight when she fought a hell god and died? No, he saved me from an alternate dimension. Angel loves me."

Connor's eyes focused on Cordelia's face with curious speculation. So the girl was dead now. Strange. The old man had talked like she was still alive. He sat the picture aside and rolled off the bed, pulling on his pants. Padding across the room, he attempted to take her in his arms. "Of course he loves you. I love you. Who wouldn't?"

After a few moments of annoyed resistance, Cordelia capitulated and slid into his arms. After another brief pause, she returned his hug. "You're so sweet." In the next moment, she pushed out of his arms and began adjusting the coverings on the bed.

"Damn it. We should never have done it in here. He'll know." Cordelia muttered, glowering down at the telltale evident wet spot on the bed.

Connor shrugged indifferently and retrieved his shirt from the floor. He resented the fact that they continued to hide their love, but he had to admit that there was something enjoyable about putting one over on his father. "So? He should know."

"Connor." Cordelia quickly replied, wiping at the coverlet, a frown still marring her features. She glanced up at him, her expression stern. "We've talked about this before. Not yet. "

"I know." Connor sighed resignedly. His head turned to Cordelia at the sounds of tearing paper. He resisted the urge to rip the picture she was shredding out of her hand. No matter, he studied it enough to have committed their faces to memory.

"I wish she would just stay dead. Other people do, but no, not Buffy slay gal." Cordelia muttered, as she torn the picture one last time, ensuring that Buffy's face was neatly ripped in two. She swept the pieces up and made for the trash, unaware that two small remnants fluttered to the floor behind her.

Connor glanced at Cordelia in surprise. So the girl wasn't dead? But Cordelia would prefer that she was… He smiled, a cruel and sadistic smile, knowing then what he needed to do.

Regardless of what the vampire felt for her now, a vampire's mate was a mate eternally. The emotional bond would still be there and it would still be painful when it was ultimately and brutally severed. He could envision the pain and anguish on Angel's face when he returned to Los Angeles with the girl's blood on his hands. It would be a small measure of retribution for each time he had to watch as his father touched or kissed his love - *his* mate - however benignly, for each time he had heard Cordelia's cries of pleasure while in his father's bed…

He'd show Angel - and Cordelia - that he was more powerful than his vampire father. More of a man than Angel could or ever would be. Surely Cordelia would no longer deny their love if he offered her proof that he loved her, offered her something that Angel had not or would not. And it would be the ultimate revenge on his father for all the wrongs the vampire had committed, for what he had done to Holtz's family.

Now, just how to get to Sunnydale…

***
Quietly Angel made his way to his room, creeping past the sleeping Cordelia and into the bathroom, his arm tucked tightly against his waist and cradling his left side gingerly. His ribs were cracked, probably broken and his left arm fared no better. The gash across his cheek had finally stopped bleeding although the swelling had yet to show signs of diminishing.

After the vampire at the ice rink, he'd essentially gone on patrol, something he hadn't done in years - something he hadn't really done since he and Buffy had patrolled in Sunnydale. Patrol wasn't something the AI team did; their demon fighting efforts relied almost solely on clients that walked through their doors and brought cases to them or on Cordelia's visions. This left, as Angel found out earlier tonight, a large demon population pretty much untouched in the Los Angeles area.

Angel had taken out four more vampires after the one outside the old ice rink, including one that had surprisingly been one of Spike's former minions, and later, two nests of demons, the last of which had contained three large reptilian creatures that proved rather cantankerous and difficult and had resulted in Angel's new and colorful wounds.

As he shrugged out of his shirt, the effort brought forth a groan, an animal sound low and guttural as the subtle movement shifted his waist, shoulder and arm. He clenched his teeth against the pain as the sensation reached his brain and he forced a breath though his lungs in deep exhale to stave off the ache. Leaning over, he started the shower. As he waited for the water to warm, his thoughts drifted back to his encounter with Lenny, Spike's former minion.

The vampire had been a surprise, in more ways than one. Angel hadn't realized any of them had survived the day that he had been sent to hell, much less survived and returned to LA, so to find one hanging around was like a bolt from out of the blue. Although, the minion had been equally surprised to see him, bowing down immediately on recognition - or rather the perception - that he had encountered Angelus. The minion sputtered his praise for Angelus and offered his allegiance, before babbling something about the day he, Angelus, had been sent to hell.

"Master? You're out of hell. How'd ya - what - how?" the minion sputtered in surprise and then a slow sadistic smile lit his face. "She couldn't leave ya there could she?"

It was only that utterance that gave Angel pause in delivering the staking blow.

"What… are you talking about?" Angel had asked, that day much on his own mind of late.

"Just… just that the Slayer - she dropped to he knees and cried. I coulda taken her out, but I knew you'd want that pleasure. Ya know, when you got back and all…" The minion lied, hoping to placate Angelus rather than admit that he had been afraid to attempt to take out the girl, both because he'd watched her fighting prowess and because her physically wracking sobs of grief had frightened him.

"I was gonna save you, boss, I was, but it was too late. I high-tailed it outta there and came to LA. But, damn, it was only a coupla days before she was here too so I took off for South America. Huntin's real good in South America." The minion grinned stupidly, unaware of Angel's cold stare or the stake in his hand.

"Here? LA? The slayer was in LA?" Angel questioned, wanting to confirm the identity of the she in question.

"Yeah. She was a little overweight and all, but it was the same girl. She was living in some dump off 3rd and West. I'da recognized her anywhere. So what now, boss?" The minion was relieved that he'd come across a master. He'd be able to live in the master's lair now instead of on the streets, Angelus always one to provide for his own - and in grand style. The minion was fairly salivating at the idea, his life looking to improve drastically. No more meals of rats on the streets, no more hiding out… Once more Lenny grinned idiotically.

"Well, what happens now is that I need to introduce you to…" Swiftly driving the stake into the vampire's heart, Angel had easily dusted the unsuspecting minion. "my stake. You had to go and insult her, didn't you? And it was going so well up to that point." Dusting off his hands, Angel had moved on into the darkness of the alley in search of his next prey.

Stepping into the warm spray of the shower, Angel winced again, the force of the water seemingly powerful against his tender ribs. The thought turned over yet again in his mind…

If Buffy had been in LA, then how could she have been in Sunnydale bragging about sending him to hell?

Angel didn't really believe in fate or coincidence or luck but a fragment of Irish superstition still existed beneath any common sense and he began to suspect that Giles's visit had triggered a chain of events to which the end has not yet been seen.

Stepping out of the shower and drying off, Angel wrapped the towel around his waist and retrieved the medical kit from under the sink. Normally he would have asked for Cordelia's help in tending his wounds, but this time the thought didn't even cross his mind.

As he unrolled the cotton bandage, he could see another time in his minds eye…

//He watched her hungry intensity as she gently smoothed a bandage over the wound that Spike had inflicted during the ritual. He wanted her so badly he ached with it and being a gentlemen was beginning to wear on his control. "Why do you bother?" he asked, nodding toward the white gauze she'd wrapped around his wound. "It's not like I'm going to get an infection."

"Because it makes me feel better," she murmured, kissing the back of his palm. "I almost lost you. Indulge me."

He tilted her chin slightly, staring into her luminous green gaze. "Always," he promised, and bent to lay a tender kiss on her trembling lips.//

Angel shook himself from the old memory and determinedly saw to his present day injuries. After he had wrapped his ribs tightly and taped up the cut on his face, he entered the bedroom.

The light was on yet Cordelia was nowhere to be seen. She had apparently gotten up sometime while he had been in the shower. With unquestioned relief, he pulled on a pair of black sweats. Just as he was painfully pulling a t-shirt over his head, he heard a small gasp from behind him.

"There you are. Where have you been?" Cordelia eyed him critically before crossing the room to stand in front of him.

"Out." Angel straightened the bottom of his shirt and looked down at her.

"Oh my god. Look at you. Your face. What happened?" Anxiously the dyed blonde traced him with her eyes, searching for any further signs of damage.

"Ran into a few vampires last night." Angel turned away, noting for the first time the subtle scent of arousal in the room. Even if she might be interested in sex, he certainly wasn't. He was close to exhaustion from the sheer physical exertions during the night, and his ribs were aching painfully; on top of it all, his mind was still in disarray.

"A vampire did that to your face?" Cordelia replied skeptically, cocking her head to one side.

"There might have been a few demons too." He turned away from her then, his thoughts focused on acquiring the necessary sustenance before he could collapse into bed.

She grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him from leaving the room. When he looked back at her in question, she cocked her eyebrow and asked, "A few?"

"Seven, nine. Something like that," he patiently replied, forcefully reminding himself that she might really have been worried. Glancing at the door, he expected to see his son appear as he could also detect Connor's scent in the room.

"That's not a few! You can't just go out by yourself all the time. I worry. We all worry. Angel, what is up with you these days? You've been acting weird ever since …." Cordelia trailed off, suddenly uncertain about bringing up anything Buffy or Sunnydale related. She considered suddenly that there was, in fact, some truth to the old adage "ignorance is bliss".

Angel quirked a brow at her, waiting.

"Well, since the other day." She finished feebly, looking away from his too-perceptive eyes.

Hugging her gently with his right arm, Angel sighed. "I've had a lot on my mind. I'm sorry. Now I've got to get some food, then sleep. We'll talk later okay?" He kissed her temple lightly then made his way out of the room to the kitchen.

Cordelia watched him go with slightly nervous eyes. He appeared to be, well, brooding again. And brooding usually meant Buffy, and that usually meant trouble. Giles's visit had been too coincidental. She needed to find out why Giles had been there… maybe Connor knew more than he had said. And how had he known where to find Giles anyway? Frowning, she contemplated her earlier conversation with her young lover. She needed to talk to him. Purposefully, she made her way to Connor's room.

***
Angel quickly finished off two packets of blood, anxious to restore his strength, and made his way back upstairs. He sat on the edge of the bed and stretched his arm, gingerly testing his arm and ribs for signs of healing. The pain was lessening, which was a good indication that his preternatural healing ability was beginning to show its signs.

Once again the mingling scents in the room assaulted his senses. Cordelia's scent was familiar and expected, but combined with Connor's and in his bed was puzzling and … annoying. Irritably Angel stood and jerked the duvet off the bed, flinging it into the corner of the room. He flinched in pain as the sudden wrenching movement strained his tender injuries.

He stood still for a moment, staring at the twisted bulk of material as he waited for the throbbing ache began to lessen. With a sudden realization it occurred to him that this wasn't the first time he'd detected the combined scents of Connor and Cordelia; but it had been the first time they'd been so strong in this room.

Angel's eyes narrowed as a piece of the puzzle dropped into place. With immediate and sharp clarity he realized then that he'd been fooling himself these last few years; the mingled scents meant only one thing. He hadn't allowed himself to even consider it much less believe it because it would mean that he would have to face up to the truth… Cordelia had obviously lied to him about her "one time only" sexual liaison with his son.

More disturbing to his peace of mind however, was the other truth that he needed to face: the fact that the realization didn't seem to bother him as it had at one time. Reluctantly, he acknowledged that his feelings for Cordelia were strangely akin to his demon's feelings for Darla, or even Druscilla. Angelus had cared very little about either of their bedmates, as long as it wasn't an inconvenience for him.

Only Buffy had brought out the other side of both his and his demon's nature, the one he knew to be innately jealous and possessive. Just the mere thought of her sharing her days with Xander had driven him crazy with jealously…

He knew then that he never loved Cordelia as he had been expected to and he never would.

Dismissively, Angel turned back to the bed and climbed under the covers. He laid back and closed his eyes, putting all thought out of his mind. There was time enough later to deal with all of it; right now he needed rest. Within minutes he fell into an exhausted sleep.

The dream began much as it had the previous night. He was walking the streets of LA with a purpose, clearly seeking something or someone. The tall brick building was the same, as were all the people that he passed. As before, they watched him and whispered, but he continued past them until he stopped in front of the building.

He opened the nondescript door between the small blue lights and went inside, pushing his way through the crowded room. Since he'd been here before, even if it had been a dream, he wasted no time in looking at the other women dancing along the sides of the club in their various gilded cages. Instead, he worked his way toward the end of the club, to the unknown woman that had haunted his waking thoughts. His steps slowed as he approached the cage.

This cage was just as he had remembered it, the base and top appeared to be glass covered with tiny white crystals, sparkling like a pristine snow bank on a sunny winter day. The bars of the cage were clear and thick. On closer inspection, they appeared to be ice. A blue light illuminated the girl inside. The crowd around him parted easily and ultimately disappeared, leaving him alone with the blonde dancer.

Just as before, the girl inside the cage was facing away from him. She was wearing white knee high boots and a tiny blue skirt that hung low on her hips, barely covering the rounded curve of her behind. Her long blonde hair effectively hid her back, as she dropped her head back and swayed to the music.

The girl was an irresistible lure and Angel drew closer. His mouth was dry as he watched her dance, her movements sure and seductive. She turned and his eyes swept over her again, starting at her feet. Her thighs were tan and strong, her abdomen firm. A diamond winked at him from her navel. Her rounded breasts threatened to spill out of the tiny bikini top that held them. His eyes traveled up her body with hungry anticipation. When they reached her face, he gasped. Buffy.

Her eyes locked with his through the bars. Her lips curved into a smile as she continued to move, lifting her hair and letting it spill across her shoulders seductively. Watching him under the thick veil of her lashes, her hips rocked side to side and her arms lifted again, gracefully, reaching out for him. She danced only for him, her eyes locked on his, her every movement subtly seducing him.

Desire poured through him, insistent and powerful. He wanted her more than he remembered wanting anything in his life. He moved closer.

The outline of her hard nipples could now be seen through the thin material of her top. He watched with her hot and interested eyes as her fingers traced the outline of her body, sliding along her breasts and down her stomach to rest on her thighs as she undulated her lower body suggestively. When her hands skimmed up her stomach and reached for the tie to her top that was teasingly between her breasts, he nodded slightly as if to answer her unasked question, his eyes flicking up to hers for the briefest second before returning to watch her fingers with eager anticipation.

Angel swallowed hard when the small scrap of material drifted to the ground and stared at the perfection of her breasts, the taut rosy nipples. He wanted to touch them, to taste them. He wanted to suckle them until she begged him to stop. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning the bars and searching for a way to get her out of the small cage. He growled in frustration, there was no door. He yanked on one of the bars, ignoring the sting of ice so cold it burned. It wouldn't budge.

Buffy dropped to her knees and leaned forward, reaching an arm through the bars. Her fingertips grazed his cheek. They were cold. He caught her hand and held it to his lips, his chocolate gaze locking with her green one.

"Angel." Her voice was just as he remembered, his name coming from her lips in that same little breathy sigh that she had always used and that had always made him feel so special, so wanted, so loved. The music seemed to fade when Buffy spoke again, her voice a soft whisper. "You know what to believe."

The music stopped completely and the trappings of the club disappeared. Buffy faded from his sight even as he grasped at air attempting to keep her. At a small sound behind him, he whirled around. The club was empty except for the brunette standing at the other end, a guilty expression on her face. Cordelia.

When he turned back, Buffy was completely gone. The only thing remaining was a faint iridescent shimmer where she had been.

Angel woke and sat up with a gasp.

***
Even though it was still early - probably only five or so in the afternoon, Angel swung his legs over the side of the bed. He ran his hands over his face, attempting to clear the remnants of the dream from his mind. His eyes drifted absently around the room, glancing down at the floor when they landed on the papers that had fallen between the bed and the night table.

He retrieved them, mentally reminding himself that he and Cordelia simply had different standards of neat; he was simply used to less excess and more care of his possessions while she tended to leave things strewn about.

He frowned slightly as he turned the papers over in his hand. Three were letters addressed to Giles from someone in England. A slow sense of dread inundated his senses as he looked at the third and last item.

He turned the heavy cream parchment paper over in his hand, reluctantly recalling when he had last seen this same type of paper. His eyes lit on the familiar handwriting, the poem neatly written along the back. Almost against his will, he read the familiar words…

Love not me for comely grace, for my pleasing eye or face,
nor for any outward part, no nor for my constant heart,
for those may fail or turn to ill, So thou and I shall sever.
Keep therefore a true woman's eye and love me still, but not know why.
So hast thou the same reason still, to dote on me ever.

Angelus had jotted the poem on the sketch of Buffy that he had drawn of her in bed. The night that he had visited her room and had forced her to receive his passionate advances.

Gently Angel unfolded the paper and looked at the picture of Buffy sleeping. His eyes closed in remorse at the demon's memory. He had watched her sleep for a long while that night and had drawn the picture as a distraction. But afterwards… he had grown impatient.

//Deftly he rolled the blankets back so he could see her unimpeded. She stirred slightly at the loss of the cozy warmth but did not waken. His eyes drifted over her slowly, drinking in every detail. When he finally gave in to the urge to touch her, he could feel the heat radiating from her body even before he lowered his hand completely to rest on her silk covered stomach. Without a second thought, his lips had descended on hers with a demanding hunger, and she responded instinctively to the seductive assault, lifting her chin a scant inch to meet him while a low purring sound came from deep within her throat.

She kissed him eagerly for long minutes, her arms twining around his neck as she welcomed the cool, familiar feel of his lips on hers. Gradually she came fully awake, her eyes opening slowly to meet his and she smiled, the delicate curving of her lips tinged with soft suggestion. Then reality fractured. Her eyes opened wide with fear and panic as the realization that she wasn't dreaming swept over her. She shoved hard at him, attempting to push him away but he resisted, continuing to loom over her, a feral smile crossing his lips.

He captured both her hands in his and dragged them over her head, holding them firmly against the pillows knowing full well she could have broken his hold. His eyes met hers, daring her to try. He then held a single finger in front of his pursed lips and glanced meaningfully toward the door. The threat was implied, but clear…

"What do you want from me?" She had asked him in a small voice, her emotions clearly crushed and bludgeoned as her dreams shattered into fragments all because of the demon inside of the beautiful man she had fallen in love with.

"What do I want? Hmm… what do I want?" Angelus questioned, mocking her as he ran his fingertips along her cheek, brushing his thumb across her lips before teasingly tracing his fingers along the edge of her top.

"What I want" his teasing expression changed abruptly to one of cold arrogance. He wanted her as he had never wanted a woman, and that bothered him more than he would ever admit. No woman had led him around by the nose - or cock - before, yet this slip of a girl was dangerously close to being able to do just that. "Is another taste of what you so prettily offered…" he paused, considering for a moment before correcting himself, "*begged* me to take the other night."

"Not you, Angel." Buffy closed her eyes, a small whimper escaping her lips.

"Oh, I was there lover, never doubt it."

"Why? You said I wasn't any good." She opened her eyes and spat angrily, but it was too late. He had already seen the hurt and shame in her eyes. That night that had been every thing she had every imagined and more, resulting in the most amazing experiences of her young life - and yet, every chance he got he threw it in her face, despoiling the memory and demeaning her.

"I did, didn't I? Hmm… Let's just say…" Angelus replied silkily, reaching for the buttons on her top. He delighted in her look of fear, her soft moan of distress and the minute struggles as he revealed her fully to his lust filled gaze. "That from now on you have my full and undivided attention to your … education."

Buffy moaned softly at his leering suggestion, but the sound was captured by his mouth as he lowered his head once more and kissed her, a deep, heated, intrusive kiss that ate at her mouth. Lifting his head, he nipped at her lips before running his tongue wetly along her bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth. He scraped it with teeth, biting gently and breaking the skin to taste the rich coppery elixir of her blood. He laved at the small wound gently before pressing his lips to hers once more in a primitive kiss of possession, kissing her hard and pushing his tongue into her mouth. Again and again he took her lips, plundering her mouth.

When he finally lifted his head to look down at her face, a single tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down toward the pillow. Angelus snaked his tongue out and caught it, relishing in her fear and her submission. His glance slowly drifted down her body and then up again to rest indolently on her full, exposed breasts.

Staring down at her lasciviously, he lifted his hand and ran it over her naked breasts, pinching her nipples with increased pressure, testing her limits. He smiled at her whimper and lowered his mouth to suckle each taut peak in turn. Unconsciously she arched her back, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth as he sucked with forceful pressure. Her head tossed restlessly on the bed and she moaned softly, biting her lip to keep from cry out loud.

Despite her reluctance and her fear, Angelus could feel the rapid beating of her pulse, he could smell the aroma of her arousal and he gave her a leering smile. He ripped the bottoms of her pajamas from her, taking pleasure in the sounds of the rending fabric and the look on her face, her eyes large and darkly green in the dim light.

"Now lover, spread those pretty legs for me." He growled slightly when she hesitated, and her eyes met his once more. With tears leaking out of her eyes, she slowly parted her legs as Angelus lowered his head and laved at her pulse. To her shame and horror, she turned her head away to give him unrestricted access, as if she were offering her life's blood to him.

Angelus slid his hand between her legs, chucking when he found her wet and ready for him. His lips traveled up her throat to her ear and he began to whisper shameful things to her, taunting her about her unbridled and obvious lust for a demon. Gliding his hand over her swollen and damp flesh, his expert fingers toyed with her, circling her clit then sliding inside her, bringing her to climax after climax all the while continuing the furtive whispers in her ear of all the things he would do to her, the things he would have her do to him.

When she lay limp and trembling from the orgasms he had unmercifully orchestrated from her, he released her hands and moved in a seeming blur of motion, unbuckling his pants and guiding his rampant erection inside her, plunging into her without care as the pulsing urgency drummed in his ears.

"Angel…" The soft breathy moan had caught him by surprise as he sank into her, his concentration on the feel of her hot clenching channel surrounding his hard cock. The word angered him and he pulled back, grabbing her legs and pushing them back toward her chest so that he could thrust into her harder, deeper. He flexed his hips and slammed into her, fast losing all semblance of control. Abruptly he stopped and sat back on his heels, grabbing her hips and pulling her toward him so that she stayed impaled on his rampant erection. Pushing her legs back and wide, ensuring that she was exposed and vulnerable, he reached between their bodies to run his fingers around the sensitive and distended flesh surrounding him. Buffy whimpered.

"What name did you say, lover?" Angelus asked, his voice touched with anger. His fingers brushed her breasts, pinching each nipple lightly before his moved menacingly back across her engorged clit, stroking firmly and deliberately.

She had stared back at him, her eyes wide. He felt her shiver. Yet even then she resisted the demon, knowing full well that there would be repercussions. "Angel."

He twisted her clit hard, punishing her for defying him. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out and waking her mother.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, Buff." Once again Angelus prompted her, his hand still hovering threateningly over her highly sensitive nub. "What was that?"

"Angelus." The word had been so soft that had he been mortal he doubted that we would have heard it. But it had been enough. She had capitulated.

He lifted her legs over his shoulders and drove her hard into the bed, as if sheer strength would somehow free him from his hated obsession with her. When his mouth sought hers again, she wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing softly and stroking the short hair on his nape.

Her touch had been his undoing, and he had slammed into her savagely as the violent, unrestrained pleasure washed over him. When she joined him in climax, crying out softly, he laughed softly in her ear and reminded her to be quiet… she wouldn't want her mother to hear them and interrupt.

Feverishly he had taken her again and again that night, at the last wrapping his hands in the silken mass of her hair and crushing her against him so tightly he felt her melt into him as he lost himself in uncurbed, intoxicating sensation. Her soft whimpers of pleasure vibrated through every pulsing nerve in his body. The astonishing pleasure of fucking her was unique in his much-explored sexual universe, bringing him an explosive pleasure so shocking, so violent and intense that it rocked his very being, burning through his body with an all-consuming rapture he had never before known. It was a heady sensation, particularly combined with knowing that he could so easily make the reluctant Slayer gasp and cry out his name.

But that alone hadn't been enough to drive her out of his mind, his heart, his very soul…//

Abruptly, Angel stood and attempted to push away the memory but the masculine triumph that his demon had felt at her submission along with the pleasure he had experienced that night, were seared deeply into his mind, unable to be forgotten and impossible to dismiss. To his shame, he guiltily savored the long buried memory; the pleasure that he had experienced that night nearly unsurpassed in his long existence; in fact, he could only recall two other occasions that were even comparable: the night she had gifted him with her innocence and the day that he had been human, the day that he had given back.

Angel forced his thoughts back to the objects in his hands. How had these things gotten here, in his room? His brow knitted in contemplation as he pulled on his sweats. There had to be a connection to Giles's visit - but how? Giles was never out of his sight - he couldn't have planted the letters in his room.

Angel retrieved the key from his pants pocket and padded across the room to his old trunk. When he opened the lid, he frowned as he looked at the contents. From the jumble of items, it appeared that someone had gone through his things. But how? The trunk had been locked. And who?

Angel's head came up abruptly. Connor. Connor had been in their room recently and undoubtedly, Connor knew how to pick locks. Sighing, he excused Connor's behavior as curiosity, perhaps even stirred by Giles's visit. But still, Angel knew he'd have to talk with him. Connor needed to understand that he was to respect Angel's privacy. Things were locked for a reason.

Angel frowned again as he opened up the small cloth box that had held several of his items from Sunnydale. Several pictures were missing, as was his old address book. Opening the small jewel box last, Angel scowled. His Claddagh ring was also missing.

With controlled anger, Angel put Giles's letters and the drawing of Buffy in the cloth box and returned it to the trunk, which he closed and locked.

He strode to the closet and stripped off his sweats, dressing in his usual black slacks and a black button up shirt. Despite Cordelia's attempts to introduce color into his wardrobe, he still gravitated to what he liked best. And right now, black suited his mood.

He washed up quickly in the bathroom, absently raking his brush through his hair followed by a dab of hair gel. He had no idea if the stuff actually worked to control the unruly locks, but it made him feel better at least for trying.

He was just crossing the door on his way out of the room, when a small scrap of paper caught his eye. Reluctantly, he bent to retrieve it wondering what other reminders of his past he might find.

The small photograph scrap turned out to be a partial picture of Willow in a party hat. Angel stared at it pensively, finding it familiar but not completely able to place the occasion. He was certain though, that it hadn't been one of the photographs missing from his collection. Those photos had all been of Buffy - with one exception - the one of he and Buffy at her senior prom.

Angel sat the torn piece of the picture carefully down on the chest of drawers near the door. He'd worry about it later. Right now, he wanted to have a talk with his son.

When Angel reached Connor's room, he knocked once, a quick forceful rap, before opening the door. He glanced around the room, but Connor was nowhere in sight. Disgruntled, Angel made his way down stairs.

 

 

 

Part III

 

It was almost seven when Angel descended the stairs at the hotel, his search of the upstairs rooms proving unsuccessful in locating either Connor or Cordelia. He moved easily and quickly, his wounds from the previous night mostly healed, leaving behind only the smallest amount of tenderness. Even the gash on his face had lessened to only a faded red line.

"Have you seen Connor?" Angel asked briskly, the slightest twinge of anger still simmering below the surface as he crossed the marble floor of the lobby.

At the sound of Angel's voice, Gunn looked up from the desk where he sat sharpening a lethal looking saber. He thought for a moment before he replied. "Nope. Not since last night." Briefly he wondered what Connor had done, the irritation obvious in the vampire's tone and posture, but he choose not to pry.

Angel nodded in response and continued on through the lobby to search the downstairs, the training room and the basement. His luck proved no better downstairs than it had upstairs; neither Connor nor Cordelia were anywhere to be found.

Returning once more to the lobby, Angel wondered with brief cynicism if they were off together somewhere, and how often had this happened in the past and he had simply had not noticed? Stopping at the counter, Angel paused, feeling the strain and fatigue of the last few days catching up with him.

He was now faced with an ending and a new beginning. Before he committed to a path however, he was going to hie himself away for a respite…. He needed some time to think, to clear his head. He wanted to make the right decision this time for the right reasons.

Shifting his thoughts back to his immediate concern, his mind sorted through places that Connor was likely to be at this time of the evening. Reaching for his keys, he murmured something to Gunn about going out then headed through the doors and into the cool evening air.

Cordelia shook the blanket, attempting to remove some of the sand, before folding it carefully and packing it into her large duffle bag. She shook her head when Connor offered her the last sip of wine from the bottle of Merlot they had brought, so he finished it off himself before taking it and the rest of the remains from their picnic to the garbage.

Connor watched her with interest, feeling somewhat disappointed when she pulled on her jacket to cover the red bikini top that so perfectly displayed her full, lush breasts. He smiled as he thought of the attention he had lavished on them this afternoon, much to his beautiful lover's delight. Even though it was December and still cool, Cordelia had elected to wear the bikini to the beach along with a long denim skirt, both of which had made it extremely convenient to indulge in amorous play. And given that the stretch of beach that they were on was largely deserted, indulge they had. He buttoned his shirt, thoroughly pleased with their afternoon outing.

Watching the sway of her hips as he followed her to her yellow jeep, Connor grinned again. Cordelia was not only beautiful, but also incredibly smart with brilliant ideas. She had been the one to suggest the beach for many an afternoon rendezvous over the last three years, lamenting how Angel could never take her there and how much she loved it. Eagerly wanting to please her, Connor readily agreed and they had since spent many pleasurable afternoons basking in the warmth of the sun.

Cordelia's thoughts were in some way coincidentally similar to Connor's as they climbed into the car. She was congratulating herself for her restraint in not mentioning Giles in her conversation with Angel that morning, acknowledging it as a stroke of brilliance to simply avoid the topic and instead demonstrate her care and concern for him. He still appeared to be distracted or perhaps simply tired, but his brief hug had reassured her that she had nothing more to worry about. Of course, she thought smugly, Angel's affections were well in hand. She was smart and beautiful, not to mention part demon vision girl with an impressive connection to the Powers that Be. What was there not to love?

Noting that the sun was fast dropping below the horizon, Cordelia pressed a little more firmly on the accelerator. They were later today than usual and Angel would likely be up and about already. She wasn't concerned about being caught returning with Connor, since after all Angel had encouraged her to be part of Connor's life - although she thought with a sardonic smile, he might have meant in a less physically intimate more step-motherly capacity - but avoidance of any possible questioning was simply easier. She also wasn't confident about Connor's ability or even willingness to lie should they ever be subject to scrutiny.

As was typical of their afternoon outings, Connor and Cordelia entered the hotel from different doors when they returned, Connor waiting patiently for a brief interval after she went in so as not to appear conspicuous.

Seated on the floor behind the settee playing with baby Amelia, Fred was hidden from view as Cordelia crossed the lobby. She paused at the counter to pick up the mail and check for any phone messages from clients before she started up the stairs. Minutes later, Connor came through the opposite door.

After a quick glance around the room, he followed Cordelia at a jog, a grin on his face. Fred watched as Connor caught up with the dyed blonde just at the top of the stairs, stopping her with a loud whisper. Having seen no one about when he crossed the lobby, he reached in his pocket then held out his hand. The red object dangling from his fingertip appeared to be the bottom of a red bikini. Cordelia snatched it from him quickly, glancing around as if to ensure that they were alone. Fred couldn't hear the seer's words, but she appeared to be chastising him angrily before she turned and continued up the stairs.

Fred was seated at her desk, Amelia asleep in her baby basket next to her, when Connor came back down the stairs, showered and dressed in jeans and an oversized sweatshirt.

"Hey, so where's Dad?" Connor alternated his names for Angel, at times calling him by his first name, other times calling him Dad, depending on his mood and the usefulness of the term at the time. Right now it suited his purpose for Fred to think that there was a genial and pleasant relationship between them.

"I don't know, Connor. Charles said he went out a while ago." Fred glanced up absently, her concentration largely focused on the article she was studying on Haitian voodoo.

"Oh. And where's he at?" Connor came around the counter to the desk where Fred sat. He needed information and Fred was just the perfect person to help him out; even better that Gunn wasn't around…

"Went to pick up more diapers. She really goes through them." Fred smiled affectionately at her baby daughter as she gurgled in her sleep.

He too smiled slightly at Amelia, gently lifting her socked foot and marveling at the tiny size. She stirred a protectiveness that he'd not quite felt before, despite the fact that she wasn't directly related to him. Dismissing the feelings he didn't quite understand, he turned his attention back to Fred. Schooling his expression into one of wide-eyed innocence, he asked, "So, Dad lived in Sunnydale before he came here, huh?"

"Yes." Nodding, Fred studied his face for a minute before she lifted her glass and took a sip of water.

"Cordelia too, huh?" Connor plopped into the chair next to the desk, as if he struck up idle conversation with Fred every day when in fact, he rarely talked with her about topics outside of their work.

"Yes, I think so. Why?" The young mother glanced at him curiously, recalling the earlier scene between he and Cordelia on the stairs.

"I dunno. Just curious I guess. Where is that anyway?" Connor sat up and pointed to the computer screen, "Can you show me?"

"Um… I guess." Fred turned back to her computer screen and typed in the address for the MapQuest Internet site. She then entered the necessary parameters and submitted her query to return the map showing Sunnydale's location.

"You just so good at this. Way better than I could ever be." Connor complimented, his eyes trained on the resulting page appearing on the small screen.

Fred blushed slightly, unused to compliments from the young man. "Oh. Thanks. Well, you know I work at it a lot. And it's not that hard. I could show-"

"Is that it?" Connor interrupted and pointed to the star that appeared on the page. "That's not very far, is it?"

"Uh, yes. And no, not far. Two hours maybe?" Fred frowned in consternation, glancing back at Connor's face.

"Cool. Thanks." Connor stood abruptly. "Well, I've got some things to do. See ya later."

Fred frowned worriedly as she watched Connor climb the stairs. She hesitated only a few minutes before she scooped up the baby and quietly followed him.

Fred was once again seated at her desk when Connor descended the stairs and crossed the lobby whistling, his backpack over his shoulder. He took the keys from the desk and opened the weapons closet, still whistling a happy tune. He locked the closet back up and returned the key to it's place behind the counter. Waving jauntily, he exited the hotel.

Despite watching him covertly under her lashes, Fred was unable to see what he had taken. She chewed at her fingernail worriedly as she watched him leave, wishing that Gunn or Angel would return soon. She was troubled by what she had seen and heard upstairs and by Connor's questions. Besides, the last time she had seen that look of practiced innocence on Connor's face, Angel had ended up locked in a box at the bottom of the ocean…

When Angel arrived back at the hotel just before dawn the lobby was quiet, only a single lit lamp breaking the complete darkness. After checking a few places that he thought Connor might hang out, he'd simply gone on patrol again, anxious to occupy his mind with thoughts other than his current home life or Buffy.

After battling nearly as many vampires and demons as he'd found the night before, Angel tiredly wondered if things were as bad for Buffy in Sunnydale. Did she have to face strong and vicious foes night after night? Of course, with it's mystical energy the Hellmouth would draw the worst of them there… Angel sighed, not liking the obvious conclusion to his own question: if things were this bad in LA, they were likely worse in Sunnydale.

As he crossed the threshold of the hotel, he wearily realized that at some point he'd largely lost sight of his quest for redemption. When had the fight against evil become about clients and money, instead of making amends for the horrible wrongs he had committed as both man and demon?

Buffy was the Chosen One, yet she received no payment for the battles that she fought and won, the apocalypses that she prevented… In fact, she fought in the battle against evil largely unaided by those very Powers that had chosen her, if not directly then through their emissaries at the Watchers Council. While he… he not only received monetary compensation but he had a seer with visions!

The injustice struck him then and he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. When had the simple and important act of patrol been replaced by acting purely on visions? For that matter, why had he become so dependent on Cordelia's visions?

At this particular juncture in his life, things now suddenly seemed wrong. It was as if somehow he had taken a wrong turn and had gone so far down that wrong path that turning around to makes things right now appeared incredibly daunting. But not impossible, a small voice whispered to him, a voice that was strangely familiar, strangely similar to that of a certain blonde haired green eyed girl…

Sighing heavily, he knew that he had to at least try. Perhaps it was yet another test, another opportunity to prove himself worthy of redemption.

Lorne's voice rang out in the quiet, breaking into his thoughts. He'd been so preoccupied that he hadn't even noticed the green demon on the settee as he crossed the lobby.

"Angel-cakes, something's bothering you. You've been edgy and tense nearly all week. I can feel it. It's giving me hives. What's up?"

Angel put his weapons away and walked over to Lorne. "It's nothing."

"C'mon. You're aura is fairly screaming, dumpling. Talk to me." Lorne patted the settee next to him, encouraging Angel to sit.

Although he wasn't entirely sure he was ready to disclose anything to Lorne, Angel sat down.

"So talk. Or better yet, sing." The green demon studied the vampire carefully.

"I think this is something I need to figure out myself, but thanks." Angel said after awhile. It's was largely Lorne's prodding that had led Angel down the path to Cordelia. How would the demon react to his suspicions about her now? Of course, he couldn't blame Lorne alone. Everyone in the team seemed to think that he and Cordelia had been meant for each other. He simply - and wrongly - had accepted that they had been right.

"Puddin', you know I don't like to interfere…" At Angel's raised eyebrow, Lorne shrugged unapologetically. "Well, if I do it's because I care. You've been stewin' on something powerful now for days."

"And what do you think that is?" Angel wasn't adversarial, merely curious about how much his demon friend knew or could sense.

"Well, sing a few bars for me and I'll get a better read." Lorne settled comfortably back against the settee, crossing his legs and resting both hands on his knee. He looked at Angel with an expectant expression. When the vampire didn't immediately reply, Lorne patiently prompted him. "Sweety-pea, I'm not getting any younger. Besides, this is for both of us. My skin looks horrible with hives. Red on green. It's not pretty. Help me out here."

Angel debated again, before finally giving in to the Host's insistent demand. Awkwardly, he began to sing the first thing that came to his mind. It was the chorus from the song that had been playing at the ice rink the other night when he had watched the girl skate.

Babe when I can't feel your touch
and we've lost another day
Seems like I'm a million miles away
I wander in the dark
Looking for somewhere to stay
Seems like I'm a million miles away

What am I looking for ?
What am I dreaming of ?
When you are the woman that I really love

Babe when I can't feel your touch
And we've lost another day
Seems like I'm a million miles away
I wander in the dark
Looking for somewhere to stay
Seems like I'm a million miles away

When he finished he looked at Lorne expectantly. He was also somewhat surprised that he had remembered as much of the song as he had.

Lorne shifted uncomfortably, stroking his cheek nervously and fidgeting. Finally, the Host cleared his throat and said. "Angel-hair, sweetie… It's like you're missing something, some part of yourself. You've got a yin/yang thing going on. I see darkness, which I'd have to guess is you but there's a gaping hole where there should be light."

"The light is… well, let's just say it appears…." Lorne pursed his lips, confused by the reading. It didn't quite make sense. "Well, frozen. I see a big blue iceberg. And it appears like it's about to break off."

Shaking his head, he continued. "Something has wedged you apart, my tall dark and delicious marzipan. If I didn't know better I'd say that your soul is fairly screaming for its mate."

Lorne was genuinely perplexed. How could the vampire appear to be missing something so significant in his life, when he had Connor, his son, and Cordelia, his destiny, his love, his soul mate? The green demon furrowed his brow in confusion, attempting again to make sense of what he had read. Perhaps he had been misread something. When he looked at Angel's face, he was more confused. The vampire seemed to have accepted his words without the slightest confusion or doubt.

"I'm going to guess cupcake, that this doesn't appear to be news to you?" Lorne questioned curiously.

The only acknowledgement to Lorne's words was the almost imperceptible shake of Angel's head. Angel suddenly wondered, what, if anything, the others at AI knew about Connor and Cordelia's relationship. With perceptive eyes trained on the Host's face, Angel softly asked, "What would you say if I said that I thought that someone has been lying to me?"

The green demon pursed his lips, opened his mouth and started to speak, then hesitated. The question had been unexpected. When he spoke, his surprise was evident. "Lying? As in, not telling the truth? Are you sure?"

At Angel's nod, Lorne gave a low whistle. "What are you going to do?"

After a moment's consideration, Angel stood. "What I should have done years ago."

Lorne shuddered involuntarily from fear at the look of cold determination in Angel's eyes. He hoped that he wasn't the one that the vampire suspected of deceit.

***
The rich, musky scent of her perfume warned him even before he entered his room, but then it had been expected. Cordelia was sleeping soundly in his bed where she had slept night after night for almost three years. He watched her for a moment, her dyed blonde hair matted and pressed to her face, which was turned toward him. He wondered then how he had deceived himself for so long believing that he was in love with her. There was no doubt that he cared for her, that he was fond of her… he just didn't love her nor did he trust her, not anymore.

Quietly he undressed in the dark, pulling on his favorite pair of black sweats and a white t-shirt. As much as he wanted to collapse in *his* bed and lose himself in sleep, he found the idea of lying beside her extremely distasteful. Nor did he want to wake her up for a confrontation. That would come soon enough.

Tiredly, he returned to the small living room and dropped on the couch. He still didn't know exactly what he was going to do next, although if Lorne's reading was to be believed his soul mate was crying out for him.

Buffy. He turned the name over almost reverently in his mind. It had been years since he'd allowed himself to think of her so freely, without guilt or censure. It was almost a heady pleasure. It was equally likely, if not more so, that his soul was the one crying out for her.

Giles's words as well as his own recollections over the past few days left him feeling steeped in guilt and betrayal. He had allowed subtle revelations and lies by a certain jealous former cheerleader to work their insidious purpose, tainting his memories and turning him against the only woman that he had ever loved.

It had been easy, really. He wanted a relationship, an end to the loneliness that he had long felt. He wanted acceptance. He wanted love. And it was true that he had never felt worthy of Buffy's love - which made it easier to accept or believe that he never really had it. All of which had made him an easy mark for the shrewd and beautiful woman that now slept in his bed.

Not that she was solely to blame, not at all. He had blindly ignored the truth about her self-centered and narcissistic personality because it had been easy and convenient to do so. It was his own damned fault that he had been so stupid. And now that he knew that, things would change. He'd make sure of it.

Angel sighed and stretched out on the couch. He lay there for a while, tossing and turning, unable to sleep despite his exhaustion. He could sense the slow creep of the sun across the horizon as dawn broke over Los Angeles, the increased sounds as the nearby residents went about their day.

Now that he had made a few decisions about his life, he was anxious to set things in motion. Rising abruptly, he strode into the bathroom without so much as a glance at the woman still sleeping in his bed.

He brushed his teeth while the water of the shower warmed, briefly wondering if there was a chance in hell that things might actually work out the way he had only just begun to hope.

When he stepped into the hot spray of the water, his mind once again drifted to thoughts of the blonde Slayer in Sunnydale. Conveniently, Giles's visit provided him an excuse to see her, one that he would eagerly take. It was a first step.

What was she doing now? Did she still live in the house on Revello drive? Did she still look the same as he remembered? As the thought crossed his mind, the dream he had the other day came back with vivid clarity. He recalled each and every curve of her body as she moved in his dreams in the pale blue light, her hips moving in invitation, the diamond in her navel glittering, beckoning him. Her full lips cried out for his kisses; her rigid nipples made his mouth hunger for a taste of her, stirring a powerful longing to run his tongue around the rosy peaks and lower...

His hand skimmed down over the now hard erection between his legs. His eyes closed as his hand began moving up and down with practiced expertise.

In his mind, his lips descended on hers tasting the sweet minty taste that had been pure Buffy. His hands circled her waist, his thumbs meeting in the middle near the tiny secret of her navel as her tongue curled around his, sucking him deeper into her mouth. He pushed the tiny skirt off her hips and it pooled at her feet leaving her bare to his gaze. His eyes swept over her in his imagination, drinking in the site of the taut rosy nipples, her firm flat abdomen, the dark gold patch of hair above the precious gates of her femininity. Lifting her leg, she opened for him, hooking her still booted calf behind his knee as he guided his aching, hard erection to her swollen wet and pulsing core…

Angel gasped when he reached his explosive climax, groaning deep in his chest as he released his seed into the powerful spray of the water. He leaned heavily against the wall, recovering from the last shuddering remnants of his orgasm. It has been years since he'd resorted to jerking off in the shower, he thought with a small smile.

When he stepped out of the shower a short while later, Cordelia greeted him with a towel. "Hey there."

She had awakened to the sound of the shower running, frowning when she glanced at the undisturbed side of the bed where Angel normally slept then at the clock. Her earlier bad feeling about his disappearance both from the hotel and their bed for the last few nights returned. A feeling which was further compounded by his unusual early morning activity; Angel normally slept through dawn and the early morning hours yet this morning he was in the shower. Tossing aside the covers in frustration, she rose. No better time like the present to deal with whatever bug was up his ass now.

Angel jumped almost guiltily, relieved that she hadn't come in just a few minutes earlier. No doubt that would have resulted in an uncomfortable discussion while she took him to task for not seeking her out if he was 'in the mood'. In all honesty, he'd grown somewhat tired of making love with Cordelia; she usually laid back passively and acted as if she were doing him a great favor by allowing him access to her body. She often hurried him along when he would have liked to leisurely bring them to pleasure, and she discouraged his kisses, particularly on her neck or breasts as if she were afraid the temptation to bite would suddenly overwhelm him and he would give in to his demon urges. At the thought, Angel resisted twisting his lips into a derisive smile.

He took the towel from her almost cautiously, glancing at her face. There was an intense and unattractive frown marring her features. Since she was normally so careful about how she appeared, he doubted that she was even aware of her expression.

"So where were you last night?" Cordelia studied his half naked body with disinterest as he wrapped the towel around his waist. After her mini-sexual marathon yesterday with Connor, she wasn't particularly interested in sex with Angel. Not that she ever really was, although she was sure that it must be incredibly mind-blowing for him, since he took so much time whenever they made love, as if he wanted to leisurely worship her. Oh, there was no doubt that the experienced 250-year-old vampire was exceptionally skilled in carnal activities; he easily manipulated her body to unimagined heights of pleasure, but he was too controlled, too reserved. He never had that desperate need, that compelling urgency or nearly uncontrollable craving for her that Connor seemed to possess. It gave her such a feeling of power, of desirability. And sex with Connor had shown her that she also liked control; that she preferred being the more experienced one able to dominate and direct her partner… And Angel, well, she couldn't imagine that he'd ever be submissive. She shivered as her thoughts shifted back to her day at the beach yesterday: her young lover had worshiped her with his lips until she finally allowed him his own release…

"Out." Angel flatly declared, his voice jolting her out of her reverie. He looked at her with new eyes this morning, as if seeing her for the first time. Despite the fact that she had obviously bathed, he could still detect his son's scent on her and he knew without a doubt that they had been out together yesterday. If scent alone hadn't been enough, the look in her eyes and the faint blush on her cheeks told him that she was hiding something.

"Out? That's all you're going to say? Out?" Cordelia followed him into the bedroom and sat on the bed while he began to dress, letting Angel know less than subtly that she wasn't through with their conversation.

He wasn't attempting to evade her; he simply wanted to be dressed in something more than a towel while they had this discussion. Selecting a pair of boxer shorts from the bureau, he pulled them on and moved to the closet where he choose a pair of pants, and pulled those on as well. After a brief pause his eyes flitted back to the dyed blonde on the bed. He studied her carefully for her reaction to his next words.

"I went to see Giles." He softly declared. It might have been several nights ago, but he saw no reason to clarify that detail.

"Oh. And?" Cordelia attempted to conceal her interest, absently plucking imaginary lint off her skirt, but her heart began to pound wildly.

For a moment Angel didn't say anything, reaching in the closet for his shirt. As he buttoned it, he once again focused his attention on her, waiting to see if her body language would reveal anything that her voice did not. As it was, he could sense her increased pulse rate so he already knew that his words were making her nervous.

"Did you know that the clause in my curse no longer exists?" He inquired, his voice utterly calm, his dark eyes watching her intently.

"Oh. Is that all he wanted to tell you? " Cordelia sighed, her spine nearly sagging with relief. If that's all the former watcher had to say, then she had nothing to worry about. Angel's broodiness this last week and made her suspect that there had been something more dramatic and more directly Buffy related.

"You don't seem surprised." He stated mildly, although there was a hint of anger in his tone. He knew from both her answer and her eyes that the news hadn't been the least bit surprising to her.

"Oh! No more happiness clause! That's good right?" Inwardly Cordelia rolled her eyes and called Angel a moron in her thoughts. Of course there was no more happiness clause - else how was it that they had been able to have sex these last few years? Had he really believed her lie that her status as a higher being had protected them? There certainly was no doubt in her mind that sex with her would most certainly have resulted in perfect happiness for him, which meant that Angelus would have returned three years ago.

"Did you know?" Angel probed, noting that her attempt to now appear surprised made it obvious why she had never made it as an actress.

"Of course… not." With his dark eyes studying her so intently, she found it almost difficult to lie. Almost, but not quite. Her ego didn't allow her to even consider that she had already given herself away.

"But you were a higher being, a goddess. Surely you knew. Someone with that kind of power would know, wouldn't they? How could they not? Especially when you saw everything else about my life as both demon and man. And you, well, *you* would, of course, would be a powerful, gifted being - one of the more knowledgeable, the more connected, the most in the know…" Angel commented in a deceptively casual tone, the only sign of his agitation in the sight clenching and unclenching of his jaw muscle.

Mistakenly, Cordelia preened under the compliments, running a hand over her hair. Of course she had been a powerful higher being, of course they had shared their knowledge and power with her, of course she had known.

"So why didn't you tell me?" Angel smoothly questioned, not above using the very same flattery tactics that he was unaware his son used when attempting to extract information from the vain and egotistical seer.

"Because I wanted you…" Cordelia blurted, then stopped. "Oh…" Realizing the he had tricked her she looked at him with a guilty expression. She sprang to her feet and paced briskly, attempting to think of an excuse.

Angel lifted an eyebrow at her, piercing her with his gaze.

"I couldn't tell you - it was something I learned as a higher being and I was told that I couldn't tell you." Cordelia sputtered as she spun around again to face him. It was the first thing she could think of in an attempt to cover her own ass. "I wanted to… but I couldn't. They wouldn't let me. The Powers that is."

"I see." Angel walked casually across the room and picked up one of the boxes that he had sat just outside the bedroom door earlier this morning. Just as casually, he sat the box on the bed.

Cordelia felt that flurry of panic again, watching him as he walked to the closet and began pulling out clothes, packing them in the box.

"Where are you going?" Her eyes wide with alarm she watched him calmly move from the closet to the bureau and back.

Angel ignored her question only to ask her one of his own. "Why did you lie about Buffy sending me to hell?"

"What?" Her voice was shrill now, giving away her panic.

"What part of the question do you not understand?" Angel stopped his packing to look at her.

"I didn't lie." Attempting to brazen her way out, Cordelia persisted.

"Buffy didn't know that they were attempting to restore my soul when she sent me to hell with Acathla. Giles told me the truth."

"Well, he's lying."

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. He lifted his eyebrows in question.

"Well, I suppose I could have misheard." Cordelia gave ground on this one since Angel clearly had made up his mind to believe the former Watcher. "If I did - and that's an if because I'm not saying that I did for sure - then it was an honest mistake. Besides, you can't say that it didn't help you forget and move on. Which you needed to do."

"But you lied to me. And you didn't tell me about the change in the curse. What else have you lied about Cordelia?" Angel coolly replied. He felt betrayed.

Now Cordelia was beginning to get angry. How dare he act as if she had been wrong?

"I had to. You would have brooded us all into our graves had I not taken it on myself to help you move on and forget about little darling Buffy. It was your self-pity that had you screwing Darla in an attempt to lose your soul - tell me you forgot about that already? Oh wait - how could you? Connor is here to remind you. And I already told you, I couldn't tell you."

"This is about you lying to me. Not about Darla."

"That's the point! I had to do something so you'd move on. Do you not get that?! Christ, time and again I bail you out, keeping you from wallowing in self-pity or stupid selfish anger." Her voice rising, Cordelia jabbed her finger at him. "You've been around almost 250 years - do you not understand the phrase 'the ends justify the means'? I did what I had to do."

Angel looked at her briefly, a flash of anger in his eyes, before he went back to packing.

Cordelia softened her voice, attempting a different tact. "You know I love you. I would do anything to keep you from harm. And Buffy… she wasn't any good for you. You needed to move on. I hated doing it, but telling a few small white lies was the only way that I felt I could protect you." Jabbing her nail into her eye to force a tear, Cordelia wiped at her eyes as if overcome with emotion.

When he didn't appear to respond to her emotional appeal, the seer gritted her teeth and forcibly softened her voice again. "At first I just wanted to keep you and Buffy apart. You know, to keep you from getting groiny. Or don't you remember?"

Cordelia clenched her fists in rage as she thought about those first years. How jealous she had been over Angel's devotion to the blonde Slayer. Of course, she had won him over eventually and now she knew he was more in love with her than he ever had been with Buffy. He had to be. So what was his fucking problem? Her anger and arrogance overriding her attempt at emotional appeal, she shouted. "There were times in the first year or two when I'll bet you would have said to hell with the world just to screw that stupid tramp and then it would have been "hello, Angelus" all over again and then you'd only have more dead bodies left in your wake to atone for. I'm the one who didn't let that happen. Me. I'm the one who kept you from doing something you'd only regret. Don't you ever forget that!"

"I know what it was like, I lived with the pain every day. But-"

"But you're happy! Before you get all self-righteous and tell me that I shouldn't have done what I did - tell me you're not happy now. That things haven't worked out for the best."

"Yes, there have been times when I have been happy. But that's no excuse-" Angel didn't admit that he knew the reason he could make love to Cordelia these last few years had been because it wasn't perfect happiness. It was nowhere near close.

After Buffy he was always aware of the dangers of his existence and with that doubt poisoning his mind and his contentment, he'd never allowed himself to be completely happy. The threat was always there, in the back of his mind. Although, apparently he and Cordelia had been working at deceiving themselves together. She convinced him her deity status protected them even while she knew the truth about the clause, and he had simply agreed. He felt guilty now that he had been so complacent. That he had wanted a normal life, that he wanted love so much that he had simply settled for what was in front of him rather than seeking out what his heart really wanted.

"Were the other things lies too, Cor? Did you lie about Buffy's feelings of revulsion about vampires?" He queried, his voice etched with flinty coldness. Each little thing that Cordelia had told him had been etched on his heart. When she had said that Buffy hated his kisses, saying that she expected to taste blood or that she resented that fact that he couldn't go out in sunlight - a part of him had died. It reaffirmed that he had done the right thing by leaving her. He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"No, of course not." Cordelia pursed her lips, refusing to answer further.

"She never confided anything to you during your little 'Slayerfest' excursion in the woods did she?"

"Of course she did." The former brunette insisted. "She told me about Scott, about all the things that they did. While you thought she was pining over you, she was out screwing his brains out."

Angel sighed. He knew Buffy had never been intimate with Scott. She had been coming to see him every day, bringing him food. He'd never detected so much as the faintest trace of another scent on her. He would have noticed. The irony was not lost on him. Here he had failed or had simply chosen not notice the scent of his own son that was often on Cordelia, yet he had at one time a stalkerish familiarity with Buffy's scent that was so detailed he could practically have charted her hormone fluctuations. Cordelia deceived herself if she thought a quick shower and spritz of perfume was enough to hide it from him. He had simply not wanted to know.

So why then, did he ever let Cordelia convince him otherwise? Pushing away from the wall to resume his packing again, he mentally began to go through the long list of lies that he'd been fed over these past years, beginning as early as the first year that he had been in LA. He sighed disgustedly that he hadn't seen Cordelia's deceitful tactics even then.

With casual deliberation, Angel continued his questions. "She never complained that I wasn't there during her Crucamentium, did she?"

"She did too! She said that you should have helped her but that you didn't. That you should have been there instead of Giles." Cordelia bluffed, having no idea what had really happened other than the fact that Buffy had appeared at school several days later with major bruises and that she had been seriously pissed at Giles, who had then been fired from the Watchers Council. She extracted the information about the Crucamentium from Xander but he hadn't been of much help with any details.

Angel knew that Giles had not, in fact, been there when Buffy defeated Kralik. She had done it alone. Both he and Giles repeatedly cursed themselves that they had left her alone that night, both grateful that Buffy had turned out to be as resourceful as she had.

Shifting his attention back to Cordelia, Angel asked with lazy indifference. "She never claimed that I had sex with Faith, but it wasn't true happiness so I didn't lose my soul, did she? You told me that she bragged that only she had that power."

"You did sleep with the little tramp, didn't you?" Cordelia screeched. She had started that little lie in her attempt to find out how deep the vampire's feelings ran for the brunette slayer after Faith had shown up in LA. She never liked the fact that Angel visited Faith in prison. And of course, while she never doubted that sex with her, Queen C, would have made him lose his soul, sex with Faith… well, perfect happiness was highly unlikely.

Angel didn't answer but cast a cold look over his shoulder at her as he picked up the full box from the bed and set it outside the door. Taking another box into the room, he sat it on the bed. Turning to face Cordelia again he once more crossed his arms over his chest.

"You never heard her Buffy confessing to Willow that she had been tempted by the demon...That she wanted Angelus sexually." He murmured softly. That had been one thorny revelation that Angel found difficult to handle. He hated to think that Buffy might have wanted Angelus. It was irrational to be jealous of himself as a demon, yet he was. He was also ashamed to admit that he felt a guilty pleasure in believing that she might have wanted him despite what he was. It also gave him wicked sexual thoughts regarding the blonde Slayer that he wasn't sure it was at all appropriate to have.

"You think that's so unbelievable? You think she's too good to want a demon or something? You think you're precious little Buffy would never do the nasty with a demon? That's she never *fuck* one? Well, I do hate to be the one to burst your bubble, but she ended up fucking Spike." Cordelia replied spitefully, rankled that she somehow had lost control of the conversation.

"Or is he technically not a demon with that chip thing?" She asked with saccharine sweetness, tapping her finger on her chin contemplatively.

"I don't know if I can believe anything you've told me." Angel suppressed the flash of anger and jealousy that her words sparked and walked across the room and retrieved the last empty box from near the door. Once again, he began filling it with clothing.

"But Angel…" Cordelia started to cry, watching everything she had worked so hard for starting to disappear in front of her eyes.

"Guys? Hey - sorry to interrupt…" Gunn knocked at the door to the bedroom with an apologetic expression on his face, Fred hanging back slightly behind him. They had been hesitant to knock earlier, Cordelia's loud voice in no way hiding the fact that an argument was taking place, but when it appeared that it might continue for a while, Gunn took a deep breath and intruded.

"What's up?" Angel glanced at the couple in the doorway, knowing that they would never have interrupted unless it was important.

"Connor's gone." Gunn replied flatly, glancing at Cordelia then back to the tall vampire.

"Gone? Gone where?" Angel's eyes flared in surprise.

Gunn reached for Fred's hand, gently pulling her forward and squeezing it lightly, silently offering his support for her to speak.

"Sunnydale." Nervously, Fred looked at Angel then at Cordelia before quickly averting her eyes.

A pin could have dropped in the room and been easily heard by more than those with preternatural hearing in that instant.

Angel's head whipped around and he pinned Cordelia with a look. The timing was too coincidental in his mind. He growled, "Why?"

Cordelia shrugged in annoyance that he obviously expected her to know before glancing at Fred. "How do you know?"

Dropping her eyes, Fred look down at the floor then up at Angel. She refused to make eye contact with the seer. "He a-asked me about Sunnydale yesterday. Where it was. I-I-it gave me a bad feeling so, I spied on him. Angel, I'm sorry - I know I shouldn't have."

Cordelia's eyes narrowed as she noticed Fred's sudden aversion to making eye contact with her.

"I heard him calling the bus station for times." Fred continued in an embarrassed stammer.

She knew Angel wouldn't countenance her spying on anyone in their small family; it didn't make for good relationships especially when they all lived together in the hotel but she'd had a bad feeling when he'd asked so she'd followed up at a discreet distance. She'd been surprised when she heard him call the bus station, but she was literally shocked when she saw him kissing Cordelia just outside of Angel and Cordelia's room just after that… It changed her perspective on confronting Angel about his possible affair. Although, she wasn't certain what, if anything, she was going to say about that now.

"It's okay, Fred. You were worried, that's all." Angel replied gently, his voice soft. Even so, he glanced at Cordelia again with a cold expression in his eyes.

"When did he leave? Do we know?" Angel asked tersely, his temper on edge.

"Not exactly. Best guess is just before midnight. Last bus to Sunnydale leaves about then." Gunn replied matter-of-factly. "You want me to go after him?"

"No. I'll go just as soon as it's dark." The frustration of having to wait for dusk was obvious in the vampire's voice.

"I'll go too." Cordelia volunteered. She had no idea why Connor had gone to Sunnydale but she knew she didn't like it. He'd been far too interested in Buffy's picture the other night… Was he attracted to her and seeking her out? Did both father and son have some unnatural attraction or fascination with slayers? Damn Buffy, she always fucks everything up.

"No." Angel replied bluntly.

"What?!" Cordelia snapped, "Don't be an idiot. I can help."

"He took something. A weapon. One of the big hunting knives I think." Gunn stated bluntly, wanting Angel to know that it appeared that his son was looking for trouble.

"Damn." Angel growled, turning back to Cordelia. "And no." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Gunn and Fred were slipping out of the room to give them some privacy to continue their 'discussion'.

"Unless of course, you know why he went to Sunnydale…" He asked with a hint of menace in his voice.

Cordelia shivered, despite knowing that Angel would not physically hurt her. He'd so rarely turned his full rage on her, that seeing it, even in small doses, frightened her. "Of course I don't know. How would I know?"

"Then you don't go." He declared, his voice resolute and unwavering.

Picking up the last boxes from the bed, Angel pressed it into Cordelia's arms. It was only then that she realized that he had been packing her things, not his own. She looked up at him in outrage.

"You can stay in the hotel, but find yourself another room." He coolly stated, a hand at her back walking her toward the door. Gently he pushed her out of the bedroom, into the living room where he had sat the other boxes with her things.

"And Cordelia? Don't ever screw my son in my bed again." Angel closed the bedroom door in her face with a resounding slam.

Cordelia stared at the closed door, her mouth gaping open. Until that moment, she hadn't realized that he had known about her affair with Connor. He'd been angry about the things he suspected were lies she'd told about Buffy and about her omission in not telling him about his soul, but she detected nothing but indifference in his voice when he mentioned her affair with his son. And that stung.

***

Buffy walked along the darkened Sunnydale street in search of the vampires that she knew to be in the area. They had managed to stay hidden for the last three days, but she'd find them tonight. She had no doubt.

Reaching in her bag, she looped her headphones over her ears and turned on her CD player. The beat of the song began with a slow steady thump and Buffy adjusted her pace to match. Giles would no doubt have frowned on her fighting with it, but she found that having the music gave her an added boost. The energy, the lyrics - it suited her when she was on the hunt.

"And since birth I've been cursed with this curse to just curse…" Occasionally singing along with the lyrics, her voice no louder than a whisper, Buffy moved further down the dark street toward the wharf. "…but at least have the decency in you when you freaks see me out in the streets…" She hummed the rest quietly, moving steadily toward her prey.

With a quick lunge, Buffy turned and plunged her stake into the chest of the vampire that appeared on her right. "I am…" She sang along with the chorus loudly now, the sentences punctuated with blows. "Whatever you say I am…" Shifting her footing, she back-kicked the vampire on her left into the pile of boxes stacked against the wall. "If I wasn't then why would I say I am…"

Swiftly and efficiently, she retrieved the vampire from the ground. "In the paper, the news every day I am…" The last part of the sentence came out stronger as she timed it with her punch, once more sending him sprawling. "Radio won't even play my jam…" The stake descended into the vampires' heart on the last word. Buffy smiled, enjoying the semi-choreographed slayage.

"Cause I am, whatever you say I am..."

"Huh?" The vampire released the girl he had been feeding from and whirled around at the sound of the soft voice singing behind him. The girl fled past Buffy just as she was rounding the corner and moving through the dark alley toward the last remaining vamp in the trio.

"If I wasn't why would I say I am…" He didn't even have time to move before she whirled and sent him flying into the building behind him. Slamming against the building, the vampire met her stake as he bounced off with the force of the blow. He was dust before he even had a chance to even attempt to defend himself.

Buffy paused for a second, cocking her head slightly as her senses kicked into gear once again. Another vamp was behind her. "In the paper, the news…" With a roundhouse kick, she spun around and sent the vampire behind her tumbling into the ground. "…every day I am…

Moving quickly she planted her foot hard on his chest, pining him to the ground.

"I don't know it's just the way I am…" After a second of consideration, she tucked her stake into the waistband of her jeans. Turning off her CD player, she looked down at the figure on the ground.

Angel had seen her just after she entered the alley. He had hurried forward, intending to help when she walked right into the center of the small group of vampires but she had taken them out before he even had a chance to reach them. He was more than impressed. Her moves were swift and brutal, but honed to perfection. He admired her graceful efficiency as she dispatched the vamps with ease. She was clearly at the top of her game.

He looked up at her in the dark. A memory of a time similar to this drifted through his mind.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?" He hoped it would break the tension. He hoped that she would remember the first words he had said to her as well.

"What are you doing here?" Buffy looked him over objectively; even lying on the ground at her feet she noted that he seemed larger now, stronger than before. Even so, he looked a stranger to her.

"I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, I don't bite." He smiled slightly, studying her.

Buffy sniffed and rolled her eyes slightly. She remembered. But those days were long past.

"That's all you've got? After all these years, no new lines? And by the way, I know for a fact that you do bite." She lifted her foot off his chest and turned away.

Angel tracked her with his eyes as he stood, dusting off his coat and pants. She looked much as he remembered. She was thinner slightly; definitely a woman now rather than the girl he had known, but she was still achingly beautiful.

Her beauty always surprised him, he thought, his memory of her less glorious. Even dressed in ripped and faded jeans with a simple v-neck cotton shirt with a high collar she put most of the beauties of LA to shame. Hell, she put all of the hundreds of women he had known in his long life to shame. Her hair was the rich golden hue that he remembered, tousled now in luscious disorder from her earlier fight with the vampires. He found himself instantly involved.

Without a backward glance, Buffy walked away from him toward the entrance to the alley.

"You really shouldn't be wearing that headset when you-" Angel stopped abruptly as Buffy halted her stride and turned on him with a glare. She arched her brows in inquiry, as if daring him to continue.

"It's not safe-" He protested, worried about her safety despite the physical prowess she had displayed earlier.

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. "Did you come all the way to Sunnydale just to critique my slaying and offer pointers?"

"No, I-" Damn. This wasn't going as planned. Not only did it seem like he was criticizing her he was stammering like an adolescent schoolboy.

"Okay then, so *don't.*" Buffy spun on her heel and resumed her walk out of the dimly lit alley. "I don't need your advice, Angel. I've managed to keep the Hellmouth closed all these years without your help. Why are you here anyway?"

Duly chastised, Angel fell in step beside her. "I need to talk to you."

Without even glancing in his direction, Buffy kept up her pace. She turned left when she reached the alley entrance and began to trace her steps through her routine patrol. "So talk."

"Buffy."

"I may be blonde, but I can walk and listen at the same time. Talk." She didn't break her stride, moving off down the street.

"Can you stop for minute?" Hard fingers closed around her elbow, halting her stride.

Buffy froze at the touch of his fingers on her skin. She felt a frisson of something akin to ice run along her spine. It was eerily reminiscent of the icy chill that had descended on her when Nikkos performed the spell for her to protect her heart. Her eyes widened and she jerked her arm, pulling away from him.

"Fine. What?" She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest protectively and rubbing her hand over her elbow as if willing the unusual feeling away.

He too had felt the cold, almost icy burn when he touched her. He studied her face with concern, frowning slightly. He was disconcerted; he could feel the whispering presence of powerful magic.

"Well?" Buffy questioned, shaken to the very core by the earlier jolting sensation of his touch.

Angel stared at her blankly, before forcing his concentration back on the reason that he had come to Sunnydale. "Connor- my son-"

At one time those words would have wounded her powerfully; now they simply rolled through her mind without incident. Angel's son. Angel has a son. Connor. Angel has a son without me. Buffy repeated the words in her head and felt a growing sense of satisfaction that they didn't cause her pain; she could remain unaffected and objective now. With that feeling also came a measure of confidence that she now truly could deal with anything Angel said or did and it wouldn't hurt her. It wasn't that she had lacked confidence in the spell that Nikkos had performed for her; she had simply never put it to the test. Until now. She'd have to say, it was passing with flying colors.

For the first time since perhaps even the first time she had seen him, staring into Angel's rich chocolate eyes didn't leave her feeling vulnerable and exposed, braced for the pain that she knew would follow. Instead, she could have been talking with… Xander. Okay, maybe a much, much sexier Xander. A taller, stronger Xander. One that she wouldn't mind kissing… Or touching…

Buffy's eyes widened slightly as she realized that there was a subtle nuance to the spell that she hadn't anticipated… It protected her heart from the pain of love; but it didn't alter her sexual urges or interests. Those still quite obviously existed. And there was no denying that she'd always found Angel attractive. That was one thing that hadn't changed. Her lips lifted in a small smile, enjoying the sensation of lust without the expectation of pain that she always associated with the tall dark and gorgeous vampire.

Angel watched the changing expressions on Buffy's face with bemused interest. She had at first appeared guarded, reluctant - much as he was used to seeing from her - but that gradually shifted to confident, almost … happy. Now however, she was beginning to seem almost aroused. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Was that possible?

Noticing that he was staring at her intently, Buffy cleared her throat with a small, embarrassed cough and stepped back away from him as if the extra bit of distance were needed. "So, uh, Connor. Son Connor. What's the deal?"

"He's here - why I don't know - but I need to find him." Angel said gravely, his voice touched with frustration. While he may have decided to try to find a way to have Buffy back in his life, he hadn't planned on coming to Sunnydale now under these circumstances. He had wanted the first time he saw her again to be different, planned - romantic even… He sighed. But then things never went as he hoped for the two of them.

After a moment's consideration, Buffy nodded. Admittedly, the vamps she had taken out earlier had been the first she had encountered in a while. There was no further need to patrol tonight, so she had nothing better to do. "Okay. What does he look like?"

**
Buffy eventually convinced Angel that they would have a better chance finding Connor quickly if they split up. They could cover more ground that way and besides, they both were equally familiar with the layout of Sunnydale in the dark of night.

So far though, she'd had no luck finding Angel's wayward offspring. She was rounding the corner on her way back to the Bronze where they had agreed to meet when she saw the faintest glint of a steel blade in the dark.

The knife-wielding assailant moved quickly, slashing out at her with lightening fast speed and slicing into her upper arm. Buffy quickly retaliated, spinning around and knocking the young man backward into the wall.

Although he appeared to be a mortal, he was nearly as quick as a vampire; his fighting skills obviously well developed and finely honed. But he was still no match for the tiny blonde Slayer. Realizing after a few punches who it was that had attacked her, Buffy held back slightly, wanting to subdue him, not kill him. Still, he seemed determined to try to kill *her* swinging the knife wildly, managing to catch her with two more deft swipes of the razor sharp blade.

When he seemed to not be letting up, Buffy lost her temper and knocked him hard to the ground. In a single quick blur of movement, she kicked the knife out of his hand and pressed her booted foot to his cheek, holding him firmly to the dusty sidewalk beneath him.

Panting slightly, catching her breath, Buffy nodded to the figure that was now stepping out of the shadows. "This him?"

Angel glanced disinterestedly at Connor before his gaze returned to Buffy's arm.

"You okay?" He asked worriedly as he looked at the two cuts on her arm and the smaller one across her upper chest. Stopping, he picked up the knife that had been stolen from his weapons closet and ran his fingertip across the blade. With effort, he resisted the urge to lick his finger, now coated with the trace of Buffy's blood that had been on the weapon.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Buffy lifted her arm, glancing at the worst of the cuts. It was a deep gash, across her upper left arm but it would heal like any other wound she'd had over the years.

Angel had seen the fight from the moment that Buffy had lost her temper and turned on Connor in earnest. At first he intended to intervene, but at a small nod from her he purposefully held back, watching from the shadows. Connor deserved to get his ass kicked for attacking her; perhaps it would teach him a lesson.

"Nice boots." Angel commented on Buffy's black boot, noting the mud and demon slime along the bottom that was now pressed to his son's face. His rage simmered just below the surface. He was infuriated that his own son had come here seemingly with the intent to kill Buffy. The question now was why.

"Thanks. They're new." Buffy lifted her foot off Connor's cheek and held it out for closer inspection.

"Er. Uh, at least they *were* new." Frowning she too noticed the gunk stuck to the bottom. Good god, was that … dog shit? Well, no one ever said slaying was a clean business. Lowering her foot, she glanced at Connor who had now scrambled to his feet.

Angry and embarrassed, Connor wiped the mud and debris from his cheek as he stared hatefully at both his father and the tiny blonde. They were almost making … googly eyes at each other. He'd never, ever seen his father look at a woman, not even Cordelia, the way he was looking at the Slayer.

Taking Connor by surprise, Angel grabbed his arm with preternatural speed and jerked him forward. He stared down into Connor's face, glancing pointedly at the weapon in his hand then back at his son.

"What are you doing here, Connor?" He demanded sharply, his grip tightening painfully on Connor's arm.

The young man stared into the angry face of his father, swallowing hard and desperately working to control his expression so that Angel would not see his fear. He'd never seen this cold, deliberate rage in Angel before; it was frightening.

Rapidly and with sly cunning, Connor altered his plans. Finding the Slayer when he arrived in Sunnydale hadn't been as easy as he had thought, killing her proved to be pretty much out of the question, but with his father making googly eyes at her, he might be able sow a little discord between the vampire and his mate.

"I came here because I thought she was going to try to hurt you again." Connor meekly replied, looking at Buffy out of the corner of his eye. He wanted his father to believe that he had only Angel's safety at heart.

The tall vampire was caught off guard by the lie. It wasn't anything close to what he expected Connor to say. He relaxed his grip on his son's arm, releasing him. "What?"

"I wanted to make sure that *she*," Connor spat angrily, turning and looking pointedly at Buffy, "stay the hell out of our lives. She's caused you and Cordelia enough pain already."

"Really." Angel drawled skeptically. The mention of Cordelia reminded Angel of his earlier conversation with the seer as well as her relationship with his son. It wouldn't surprise him if she were somehow behind the reason why Connor was here.

"I know she's the one that sent you to hell. I didn't want her to do it again." Connor declared with forced sincerity, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Buffy rolled her eyes at the young man's obvious act. She could tell however, by the expression on Angel's face that he wanted so desperately to believe in his son that he was close to buying the lies the boy was spinning. It must be hard to have a son that you can't trust, she thought objectively, looking back at the young man with the hateful expression on his face.

"How- how did you know that?" Angel queried softly, glancing away from Connor for the first time and looking at Buffy, standing quietly nearby illuminated by the amber glow of the street light just over her head.

"I heard that dying old man tell you. The one that came to the Hyperion." Connor smirked smugly, his overconfidence in his ability to persuade Angel to believe him making him careless with his lies.

Angel's eyes snapped back to Connor's face. Giles had said nothing of the sort at the Hyperion. Either Connor had followed him to Giles's hotel and had spied on their conversation or Cordelia had told him. Either way, he wondered how much Connor knew. He certainly didn't want Buffy to find out about his soul tonight, in this way.

Angel's lips thinned as he pressed them together in irritation. His eyes were cold beneath the dark slash of his brow at he stared at his son. He didn't believe Connor's intentions were as noble as he was attempting to make them appear. Nor did he believe that he'd get to the truth here, now.

"We'll talk about this at home." Angel pronounced each word with lethal softness. He glanced back at Buffy, afraid that she'd make the connection any moment that the dying old man Connor had mentioned was Giles.

Buffy opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. She could feel Angel's temper, knew he was angrier than she'd ever seen him except perhaps as Angelus - yet to a large extent this was an issue between father and son; she had no right to interfere. Curiously too, she wondered briefly who the dying old man was that had known about Angel's sojourn into hell and that she had been the one responsible.

Angel's eyes locked with Buffy's and for a brief moment, in spite of his anger, he lost himself in the mossy green depths. She returned his gaze, yet her eyes… they were without the familiar warmth.

"Buffy, I'm sorry…" Angel apologized softly for his son's actions, even though the simple words seemed inadequate in the face of such an act as attempted murder.

"Hey - no big. I mean, no need to apologize really." Buffy replied calmly. She never thought she'd ever meet Angel's son much less have him attack her. It was kind of surreal, actually.

His eyes drifted over her face, hoping to commit her every feature to memory in the next few minutes before he would need to leave for LA. He'd be back, he just wasn't sure when.

"Connor. Let's go." Angel curtly ordered, glancing impatiently back at his son.

"Since we're leaving, here…" Connor pulled the object he'd been toying with out of his pocket and tossed it to Buffy, who caught it easily even in the low light. "Take this back. We don't want your cheap gifts."

When she caught the small item, Buffy gasped slightly, once more feeling that small tiny fissure of icy pain only this time in her palm. Opening her fingers, she looked down at the small silver item in her hand. Angel's Claddagh ring.

"Connor-" Angel snapped, tired of his son's antics and anxious now to beat the sunrise back to LA.

"It's not mine." Buffy interrupted quietly before tossing the ring directly to Angel.

Angel caught the ring then looked at it contemplatively for a moment before he lifted his gaze to Buffy's once more. Without breaking eye contact, he purposefully turned the ring around and slid it onto his left hand.

Buffy's eyebrows quirked upward in question. Surely he wasn't implying that he was interesting in renewing their relationship? She stepped forward, bringing her more clearly into the glow of the street light.

"Look, Angel-" Her eyes met Angel's with unwavering challenge. Her voice was sure and calm, without anger or emotion. "I know that you're involved with Cordelia and I've heard all about keyrumplestiltskin and destiny and fate and true love and all that. I'd never dream of interfering in your life now." There. That was mature. And, best of all, it doesn't hurt.

He stepped forward suddenly, his gaze taking on a sudden intensity as he noticed something that he should have seen earlier. His mark. His mark on her neck was gone. How could it be gone?

Reaching out, he grabbed her chin and forcibly tilted her head. With his other hand, he pulled the collar of her shirt aside roughly. Anxiously his eyes searched her face again then along her neck. His mark was indeed gone; no trace remained.

Curiously, Connor craned his neck to look over Angel's shoulder, attempting to see what he was doing.

"Dammit, Angel. What the hell-?" Buffy heatedly asked, pushing at him slightly.

At the first touch of his hand on her face, they both felt the icy bite of sensation again, strong and piercing. Angel's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he recalled the earlier similar feeling when he had grabbed her arm.

"What have you done?" He asked growled roughly, staring down into her face.

Buffy reached up and yanked at his hand on her face, forcing him to release his grip on her chin.

"What do you mean, what have I done?" She hotly exclaimed, her gaze scathing. How dare he question her about anything?

Reaching down, he quickly snatched up her hand, holding it in front of him as he casually examined the intricate vine tattoo on her ring finger. The icy frisson once again traveled through both of them. Magic. He felt it.

They stood inches apart, the tension between them vibrating palpably. Connor watched, fascinated.

"What have you done to yourself?" Angel growled angrily, his eyes flint hard. Underneath the anger, he was frightened about the possible consequences of whatever magic Buffy had enlisted.

Buffy jerked her hand back, panting heavily as she waited for the almost painful icy chill to recede.

"Isn't Cordelia waiting for you? Better get going, she'll be worried." Buffy snapped acerbically. For reasons she didn't understand, she didn't want to admit anything to him about her use of magic. "You got what you came for, Angel, so bye now. I believe you're still allergic to sunlight, aren't you? Well, it's gonna be dawn before you reach LA if you don't get on the road."

Spinning around on her heel, Buffy began to walk away.

"Buffy." Angel snarled, grabbing her shoulder roughly and spinning her back around to face him. He wanted an answer to his question.

Without a second thought, she backhanded him hard across the face, knocking him back a few steps.

"None of your business Angel! *I* am none of your business. Remember? That was your choice. Now get out of Sunnydale and take your blood thirsty offspring with you."

"And you," Buffy turned to Connor, "If I see you in Sunnydale and you even so much as look at me wrong and I really will kick your ass."

Whirling around again, Buffy stalked off.

Angel wiped the drop of blood from his split lip as he watched her walk away. The corners of his lips lifted in a small smile.

"That's my girl." He murmured softly, his tone possessive.

Without stopping or looking back, Buffy shot back, "I'm not your anything."

Her retort touched on something within him, an intrinsic male possessive nerve perhaps or maybe it was simply the possessiveness that came naturally when one took a mate.

"We'll see about that." Angel murmured softly, without even thinking.

His voice changed when he turned back to his son; the cold anger returned. "Connor. Get in the car."

 

 

 

Part IV

 

 

Cordelia muttered a few choice expletives at the closed door before she sat the box in her arms down with a thud and stomped out of the room. Hours later when she returned to retrieve her things, she noticed that Angel had not only rearranged the furniture in the bedroom but the coverings on the bed had been replaced; her pale pink satin comforter had been exchanged for a textured velvet duvet in a rich crimson shade with a deep gold crushed swirl burnout overlay.

An oversized dark leather chair and ottoman now occupied the corner of the room where her dressing table had been. The dressing table now sat next to the sofa in the living room obviously waiting to be moved. Along with the pink comforter, her other personal effects had also been boxed up, leaving the bedroom masculine and spartan; much as Angel had it prior to her occupancy.

Grudgingly Cordelia moved her belongings, albeit not far, having selected the room directly across the hall from Angel's. She unpacked only the things that she needed immediately or that would wrinkle, leaving the rest of her stuff in boxes for her planned move back across the hall and back into Angel's life. She could have anything she wanted if she set her mind to it; she'd proved that already by not only landing the handsome vampire years ago but by convincing the Powers that Be to return her to this dimension. She'd get Angel back; she had to. It was simply a matter of time and a little bit of planning.

With that thought lingering in her mind she made her way downstairs in search of Fred. The girl obviously knew something, and Cordelia Chase wanted to find out exactly what that something was.

Pausing at the counter in the lobby, Cordelia glanced around for any signs that the other occupants of the hotel were lingering about then picked up the small pink message notes carefully stacked along one side. Since it appeared that she was alone, she flipped through the neatly written messages, scoffing at Fred's retentive attention to detail in writing not only the name and number for the caller, but the date, the time and a short message on each slip of paper. Pulling two of the slips of paper out of the small stack, Cordelia glanced around once more to make sure she was still alone before slipping the notes into her pocket. She saw no reason for Angel to know that Giles was trying again to reach him.

The dyed blonde seer then made her way through the hotel to Fred and Gunn's suite of rooms. When she reached the door, she listened quietly for a minute before knocking, hearing only Fred's voice on the other side singing and talking to baby Amelia.

After a long pause the door opened. Fred glanced nervously at Cordelia, then at the baby before her eyes dropped to the floor. "Hi, Cordelia."

"Fred." Cordelia brusquely greeted the young mother as she pushed past her into the room. "We never spend any time together any more. You're so busy with the baby now… And me, well I have Angel, and lord knows that man keeps me busy." Cordelia smiled brightly as she made herself at home on the denim-covered sofa. "I thought we should have some girl-to-girl time. You know, a little chitchat, a little gossip." The seer patted the spot on the couch next to her next to her.

Fred smiled uncertainly and sat down, bouncing the baby gently in her arms. "Okay."

Cordelia extended her arms, a smile playing on her lips. "Please. Can I hold her?"

"Well, she's really not-" Fred began, uncertain about handing her baby over to the blonde seer. Cordelia had shown very little interest in Amelia in the few months since her birth, so her attention now was suspect.

"Please?" Cordelia pleaded prettily, a small smile on her lips.

"Uh… she's about to fall asleep-" Uncertain how she could say no, Fred stalled.

"Even better, then. Come to Auntie Cordy, now." Cordelia reached over and plucked the baby from her mother's arms almost before Fred could blink. The jostled infant looked up at the blond seer with wide eyes.

"She's so adorable. You know, Angel wants a baby. He's been suggesting artificial insemination now for weeks since, well, he can't… he just has this thing about wanting to see me 'bloom' with motherhood." Cordelia lied easily, enjoying perpetuating the myth that she and Angel were still the happy couple. Actually, a baby was not a bad idea now that she'd thought of it… it'd certainly ensure her place in the vampire's life for a long time to come. Tucking the thought away to be used later when Angel returned, Cordelia turned her attention back to the girl sitting next to her.

"Oh, I thought-" Fred murmured softly, not entirely convinced that the seer was telling the truth after having seen her with Connor last night and having been recruited to help Angel earlier in the day with his bedroom refurbishing.

"You didn't think we were fighting this morning did you?" Cordelia cast a playful glance at the young mother. "It was a simple misunderstanding. I'm sure we'll work toward a, ah, resolution tonight when he returns. Making up is always so much fun, if you know what I mean."

"Oh. I see." Fred forced a small smile and nervously glanced at Amelia, who was drifting off to sleep.

Shrewdly, Cordelia glanced at Amelia then back at her mother's nervous expression. "Babies are so tiny. So fragile, aren't they?" She sweetly purred, reaching down and lifting the infant's tiny arm.

"Yes." Fred whispered, her eyes wide as she watched the woman that she'd thought of as her friend toy with her baby's wrist and forearm.

"You must worry constantly. I mean, something could happen to them at almost any time." Cordelia's eyes when they met Fred's were cold.

"Um, I really - it's past her bedtime - and she should- I really should take her-" The young mother stammered and reached for her daughter, her eyes wide as Cordelia brushed Amelia's tiny hand along her cheek.

"She'll sleep just fine right here. Let's not disturb her, just yet." The part-demon seer's smile was sweetly malevolent as she glanced up. "So tell me, what's new, Fred?"

"N-nothing." Fred murmured softly, her palms cold and sweaty now with nerves. She impulsively wanted to yank her baby out of Cordelia's arms but she didn't dare.

"Really?" The dyed blonde's tone was sugary sweet, "Are you sure about that? Now Fred, honey, you know you can tell me anything. *Anything* at all."

"I-I know." Fred swallowed nervously, her eyes watering. She was afraid to look away as Cordelia ran her fingertips along the baby's face before cupping her palm around the infant's tiny head.

"My, my, you're a little jumpy tonight. Is something wrong?" Cordelia scrutinized Fred's pale face with intense regard. The girl definitely knew something.

"No-no." The young mother licked her lips uneasily. Cordelia hadn't really threatened her or the baby, but there was something menacing in her expression that was making Fred very nervous.

"What little secret are you keeping from me, Fred darling?" Cordelia hissed softly, once again lifting Amelia's tiny arm and toying with it absently.

"I saw you kissing Connor." The words came out in a rush, Fred fearful that the seer might actually harm the infant in her arms.

The door swung open with a soft squeak, Gunn's frame coming into view in the next instant and blocking out the light from the hall. Fred jumped and looked anxiously at him, while Cordelia simply looked in his direction and smiled calmly.

Gunn glanced from his wife's nervous face to Cordelia's then back again. The tension in the room was obvious. Casually, he stepped forward and took his daughter from the seer's arms. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine." Fred hastily murmured, standing up to cling closely to his elbow. She was more than relieved to have her baby back in familiar arms.

"We were just catching up on some girl talk, weren't we? Nothing you'd be interested in. Right, Fred?" Cordelia grit her teeth and smiled. Only a few minutes more and the girl next to her would have been ready to tell her everything else she knew. Damn. Luck was just not in her favor today.

"I'll just run along now." Cordelia stood and brushed past Gunn on the way to the door. "Night you three."

Gunn stared thoughtfully as the seer's back as she left. He had never before had any reason to suspect that Cordelia might actually threaten or harm his little family but with the expression on Fred's face as she clung tightly to his arm, he was considering revising that opinion.

***
In Sunnydale…

Connor watched his father with surprised and interested eyes. He'd never seen the vampire look at another woman the way his eyes followed the little blonde, Buffy. Nor had he ever seen his father react with same level of emotional intensity or even what appeared to be possessiveness with anyone else before. Maybe there really was something to the whole vampire/mate bond thing. Of course, Angel seemed to be infuriated with her about something… wonder what it was? And Buffy - well, she didn't seem to want to have much to do with him either. It was all very interesting…

Angel turned back to Connor and felt his earlier anger at his son return. His attention had been so riveted on Buffy in the last few minutes that he'd nearly forgotten his son's presence.

"Get in the car. Now." Angel commanded impatiently as he pointed in the direction where the car was parked.

Connor glanced at the retreating back of the Slayer then back at his father. With a small grin, he recalled Angel's softly uttered words to the girl just moments before. "Shouldn't you follow your *girl*?" he asked, a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

Glancing at his son with annoyance, Angel ignored the unwelcome comment and gestured for Connor to move forward. His patience was stretched thin and was he was angry for more reasons than he could count; none of which boded well for the two-hour drive back to LA in the close confines of the car. Angel only hoped that he'd be able to keep a tight leash on his anger and not say or do something he'd regret later.

"Oh, sorry. Forgot, she's not your anything." Connor added in mock apology even he smirked with delight; his father had obviously just been spurned by his own *mate* which made for much too good of an opportunity to resist taking jabs at what he suspected from Angel's behavior could be a sensitive subject.

"Just get in the car." Angel bit out, looking at Connor across the roof of the black GTX as he opened the door. He laid the stolen knife that he carried on the floor behind the seat, next to the axe that he had habitually brought along.

Connor opened the door just as Angel started the car and gunned the engine. Sliding into the passengers seat and glancing at Angel uneasily, he mumbled, "Geez, what's your problem?" He was beginning to wonder if his father might not have bought the lies he'd told about why he'd come to Sunnydale after all; although the vampire was usually pretty easy to fool when it came to stuff like that. More often than not, he could just pull the "but I love you and want you to love me" crap and Angel bought it: hook, line and sinker.

"We'll talk about it at home." Angel curtly replied, shifting the car into gear and pulling out into the street.

"Whatever." Connor muttered under his breath as he slumped down in the seat and stared out the window.

Angel guided the car through the narrow Sunnydale streets and headed for the freeway. A thousand thoughts were crossing his mind; rage at his son for coming to Sunnydale and attacking Buffy, roaring anger with underlying mind-numbing fear directed at Buffy for what she might have done to herself with whatever powerful magic she had employed; guilt that he might have been the one that had driven her to harm herself in some irreparable way…

"How'd you find me?" Connor's voice interrupted his thoughts, the young man restless and fidgeting on the seat.

Angel glanced over at his son just as he pulled onto the freeway. The GTX picked up speed as he pressed firmly down on the accelerator. "It wasn't hard."

Knowing that no additional information was forthcoming, Connor contemplated how his father could have figured out his destination so quickly. Had he left his note about the bus schedule times out? Dismissing it from his mind as unimportant for the moment, he restlessly leaned forward and switched on the radio, turning the knob to a raucous and loud heavy metal music station. With a self-satisfied grin, he cranked up the volume.

Irritably, Angel leaned over and turned the radio off.

"Asshole." Conner muttered under his breath and reached for the dial, turning the radio back on, louder this time.

Angel looked at Connor with aggravation, then turned the knob and snapped the radio off. "Take a nap or something."

"I'm not a baby." Connor leaned forward and turned the knob again, the loud music once more filling the car.

"You're acting like one." Abruptly the music stopped as Angel turned the knob on the radio again. "So I'll treat you like one."

Connor crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his father warily, "What do you mean?"

"Children have to be supervised constantly. Keeps them out of trouble or from hurting themselves. Looks like I'm going to have to hire a sitter for you when I'm not around to watch you."

"I'm not a child!" Connor retorted angrily, his eyes hot with temper. "And I don't need a babysitter!"

"You haven't shown me that you're an adult either." Angel replied bluntly. He glanced at his son briefly out of the corner of his eye before returning his attention back to the road. At this time of night there were only a few other cars on the road; cars that began to drop behind them as Angel steered the car into the fast lane.

Connor slumped back in his seat and sulked, thinking how much he'd like to tell his father about just how much of a man he really was. How much of a man Cordelia proclaimed him to be. But, he'd promised her that he wouldn't give away their secret so he wouldn't.

Connor's thoughts shifted back to the blonde Slayer and his father's obvious interest in her. He was dying with curiosity to know more about their relationship; particularly his father's feelings for her. Forcing aside his earlier anger, Connor schooled his expression to one of curious interest. With practiced innocence he asked, "So that's was the Slayer huh? What's her name? Bunny?"

Angel sighed with exasperation. He didn't want to talk now and he was fast tiring of Connor's innocent act. "Buffy. Yes, that was Buffy." Of course that was the Slayer, Connor, unless you're indiscriminately attacking just any girl on the dark streets at night with a knife. Angel shuddered involuntarily at the thought of his son becoming a cold-blooded killer. It bothered him more than a little that things had gone so wrong with his only child, starting with his abduction almost at birth.

Connor smirked, watching his father surreptitiously. "You know, I thought she'd be bigger. Especially, since, you know, she kicked your ass to hell and all."

Angel shot Connor an annoyed glance then returned his attention to the rapidly approaching taillights in front of him. The shrubs along the darkened median of the road passed by in rapid succession as he pressed firmly on the accelerator, the speedometer on the car now passing 80.

After a few minutes of silence, Angel asked, "You thought you'd just be able to walk in to Sunnydale and what? Take out the Slayer?"

"I could've kicked her ass." Connor snapped with false bravado, "If I'd really wanted to."

Angel chuckled softly then pointed at his son's face, "You've still got a little stuff on your cheek there from kicking her ass."

"Whatever." Connor replied hotly, indignantly rubbing at the grime still on his face. "She's had her ass kicked pretty good before. I'm sure it'll happen again. It's just a matter of time."

Connor paused, watching for Angel's reaction. The vampire grimaced at the reminder that Buffy risked her life daily; that she had even died even though he had often told her that he'd never let anything happen to her. He'd left her to die alone - even though he said he wouldn't. His words had been a lie. Even though he'd never intended it as such when he spoke them, he'd been too cowardly of a man to back up those words with actual acts. The end result was that he'd left Buffy with a legacy of lies and a wealth of broken promises. That was the man he'd shown her he was; one that was no better than he had been as foolish and self-indulgent Liam. Even Angelus, with his predatory sexual advances and all his blustery attempts to hurt her, had been more honest with her than he had been.

After a long silence with no response from his father, Connor insinuated with a soft touch of malice, "You'd probably like that, huh, *Dad*? After all, vampires, slayers - sworn enemies, right?"

"Connor-" Angel growled softly, warningly, the anger simmering below the surface once more threatening to emerge.

Connor interjected with a smirk, "Well, at least they're *supposed* to be…"

Still uncertain of Angel's mood, Connor blithely continued fishing for information. "Course, she doesn't seem to like you much. And what's up with that whole 'what'd you do to yourself' thing anyway? What'd you care? You dumped her, didn't you?"

"It's none of your business." Angel replied sharply, his tone cold.

"I have to say, though, she's pretty hot. All that golden blonde hair and creamy skin…" Connor added slyly, deliberately hoping to provoke a response. "Great body too. Nice tits. But man, what a bitch."

"Watch your mouth." Angel snapped as he gripped the steering wheel hard, working to control his anger and prevent his demon face from forming. Furiously, he pressed harder on the accelerator propelling the speedometer easily over the 100 mark. He was pushing the GTX at a furious pace not because they had to hurry to beat the dawn but simply in an attempt to appease some of the fury still burning inside him.

Connor smirked, delighted to get a rise out of his father even as he now glanced nervously at the road. After a long pause, he leaned over slightly, as if they were sharing confidences and asked, "Hey - but you actually slept with her, didn't you? What was she like in bed? Hot? I mean, c'mon, you did her when she was what? Like 17?" Connor paused dramatically, as if mulling something over, before he continued thoughtfully, "You must've been over 240... Isn't that illegal or something?"

"That's enough, Connor." Angel snapped, his eyes more gold than brown as he shot an angry look at his son. Quickly glancing back at the road, he swerved, pulling the car back into the center of the lane and nearly missing the center divide guardrail.

"Jesus fucking Christ, slow down! You may be dead but I don't wanna die." Connor yelled nervously, his eyes now trained on the road watching as the white dividing stripes on the pavement disappeared rapidly in the speeding headlights.

Without even glancing over or slowing down, Angel furiously retorted, "Buckle up. And watch your language."

"Watch my language. Watch my mouth. Anything else you want me to watch? Hey - I know, I can go back to Sunnydale and watch the Slayer's ass for you." Connor replied mockingly, even as he secured his seatbelt. "You know, your *mate*."

Angel's eyes flared slightly in surprise. How had Connor known that he had marked Buffy as his mate? His eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together tightly as he recalled that she no longer had any visible mark; something Holtz would surely have taught Connor to look for. Cordelia. The seer must have told him about the bite, along with who knew what else.

"Is it true? She your *mate*? I didn't see a mark…" Belligerently, Connor continued his taunting, "That's a pretty big deal for you vampires, or so I've been told. But *your* mate - she doesn't even want anything to do with you. Guess it sorta changes that whole mate for life thing, huh?"

"You know nothing about it." Angel snapped, his eyes flashing gold again. He cursed softly under his breath, chiding himself for being so complacent these last few years that he hadn't dealt properly with his son. The boy obviously still had considerable anger directed to him; anger that had festered while he had sat back and done nothing except pretend that he had one big happy family.

"What's there to know?" Connor spat, ignoring the cold anger radiating from his father. "You got a piece of ass so good that it was your 'one moment of perfect happiness' and you lost your soul, *Angelus*. Shit, I just hope you got more than just a 'moment'. I know I'd have given that hot little bitch more like a couple of hours of happiness at least…" The young man punctuated his last sentence with a lewd gesture, enjoying the feeling of control that he mistakenly had in pushing his father's buttons.

With uncanny preternatural speed, Angel reached out with his right hand and grabbed Connor by the back of the neck, yanking him close. The car swerved dangerously on the road as Angel focused his attention on his son. Connor's face was inches away from his own, his piercing golden brown gaze staring coldly into a similar but now frightened pair of brown eyes.

Connor swallowed nervously, suddenly afraid. Either his father was going to kill him or crash the car, neither of which seemed particularly appealing at just this instant. He was rapidly regretting the rash impulses that had led him to continually goad the vampire.

"You really want to do this now, Connor? Hmm?" Angel growled, each word pronounced with lethal softness, Angel's jaw clenching as he forced himself to calm. He couldn't physically abuse his son, as much as he wanted to right now.

Connor hesitantly shook his head, at least as much as the tight grip of his father's hand on the back of his neck would allow.

"Now. I never want to hear you talk like that about her again." The low growl continued, rumbling deep in Angel's chest. "You understand?"

Connor, his eyes wide, swallowed hard before he nodded slowly.

"I'm not buying your innocent act. Not this time. Now do us both a favor and shut your mouth. We'll talk about this when we get home and I can give you my full attention."

Abruptly, Angel released Connor shoving him slightly back into his seat before returning his attention to the road.

After an hour in tense silence, both occupants in the car were grateful to see the lights of LA in the distance.

When they reached the hotel, Angel parked with an abrupt stop and cut the engine.

Connor grabbed his pack out of the backseat but at a warning look from his father, left the weapons that lay on the floor and bolted from the car. Still enraged over his father's assertion that he was a child and feeling a bit embarrassed that he'd been so easily cowed by his father's anger, he slammed the door hard, breaking the window.

"You'll fix that." Angel warned, reaching behind him to retrieve the lethal looking knife, dried traces of Buffy's blood still evident along the sharp edge, along with the axe before following his son into the hotel.

"Yeah, right." Connor muttered under his breath as he crossed the lobby and made for the stairs.

"Connor." Angel called out commandingly, his tone clearly implying that he would not accept anything less than complete conformance to his demand.

"What?" Connor snapped irritably, whirling around. He resented the fact that a trace of his earlier fear was rapidly returning. He watched as Angel carefully and deliberately laid the weapons that he carried on the counter.

"I said we'd talk about your trip to Sunnydale when we got home. We're home." Angel examined the knife one last time before he turned his attention back to his son, walking toward him slowly as he removed his coat. Casually, Angel tossed the long black duster on the back of a nearby chair. "I want an explanation."

Connor's chin lifted in defiance his eyes flashing rebelliously as Angel approached.

"Well?" Angel curtly demanded his cold gaze trained steadily on his son's face.

"I told you already." The young man replied sullenly, resentful at being brought home and treated like a recalcitrant child.

At the sound of voices Lorne sat up groggily from the chair where he had been dozing. He'd come in just a short while ago himself and had intended to wait up for Angel's return when he'd fallen asleep. After a brief debate with himself as to whether he should make his presence known, he gave in to his nosy impulse and quietly sank back in the chair to listen.

"Yes, you did. Now tell me the truth." Angel quietly replied his voice touched with anger.

"That was the truth!" Connor blurted heatedly, his fists clenching at his sides belligerently as he began to bob restlessly back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Angel raised a brow, his expression cold as he calmly surveyed his son. "Then why don't I believe you?"

"How the fuck should I know what a *vampire* thinks?" Connor retorted contemptuously, his eyes now fierce with temper.

Silence fell between them for a long moment, Angel staring at his son contemplatively. Knowing that Connor was only seeking a reaction, something that would further justify his anger and hatred for him, he pushed his rage aside.

"Well, let's just say that this *vampire* finds it hard to believe that you'd suddenly choose to avenge perceived wrongs done to me in the past, when you've always taken great pleasure in pointing out that those wrongs have been justly deserved because of the demon that I am." Tucking his hands in his pockets, Angel paced around his son in a circle like a lethal jungle cat, barely restrained aggression evident in every line of his powerful frame. "Having you suddenly as my champion and against the Slayer… well, I find it more than a little peculiar."

Connor stared back mutinously, clenching his fists. His lips curved mockingly as he angrily retorted, "Yeah, against the Slayer, Buffy Summers… your *mate*."

Angel let the silence stretch between them for a moment before he once more advanced on Connor, stopping just in front of him. Words filled his head, jostling for prominence as his rage threatened to spill free. His eyes flashed golden as he worked to keep the demon inside him tightly leashed.

"Are you sure that this little ploy isn't a cry for attention, Connor? Are you feeling neglected?" Angel asked softly, his voice touched with a hint of irony.

"I don't want your attention any more than your *mate* does." Connor spat hatefully, resenting his father's continued insinuations the he was a child.

"I'm beyond disappointed in the man that you've allowed yourself to become." Angel shook his head sadly, "I think you went to Sunnydale to hurt or maybe even try to kill Buffy because you thought it would hurt me. You wanted to harm an innocent woman for some misguided attempt at vengeance against *me*."

"You deserve it!" Connor cried angrily, the hatred and resentment for his father that he'd nursed over the years threatening to burst forth.

"Maybe. That's not for you to decide." Shadows of gold flitted through Angel's darkened eyes as he inclined his head in acknowledgement, too familiar with the crimes that he had committed as both man and demon. That didn't change the fact that his son had attempted to murder Buffy, an infraction that could not go unpunished. "Nor is it even remotely acceptable that you risk harming others with your little schemes."

"But-"

"Connor. Daddy isn't finished yet." Angel interrupted, grabbing Connor by the front of his shirt. When he continued, his voice lowered, the tone now chilling. "Now. We're going to make some changes around here. We're going to do things my way. And you, as much as it pains me to say this, you will either straighten up your act or I will personally see to it that you get the punishment you deserve." He hated to take this firm of a stand with his son, but he saw no other way. It was long overdue.

Connor stared back defiantly but didn't interrupt this time.

"Since I don't want to turn an attempted murderer loose on the streets and since you've shown me that you're a child that can't be trusted, consider yourself grounded. You'll remain in the hotel and either I, Gunn or Lorne will know where you are at all times. When you earn my trust again, we'll talk about giving you more freedom."

Connor regarded his father coldly, his eyes flashing angrily. He clutched the smooth edge of the furniture behind him. "Cordelia-"

"Is not an acceptable alibi as to your whereabouts." Angel interjected, anticipating the direction of the young mans' thoughts. He released Connor's shirt and stepped back. "Now go to your room. I don't want to see you again tonight."

Connor stared at Angel's back as he turned away, enraged at being so dismissed, furious at being talked to as if he were a child, and infuriated that his plan to strike out at his father and show off his physical prowess for Cordelia had been so easily curtailed.

"Damn you!" Connor sputtered as he whirled around and grabbed the first thing within reach: the vase of crimson lilies that he knew his father hated so much. He smiled maliciously as he heaved the flowers, striking Angel squarely in the back.

Angel's knees buckled and he staggered slightly from the sharp biting pain as the vase slammed into his back and shattered. The acrid smell of blood filled his nostrils as the flowers burst into a thousand tiny bits, showering him with tiny glistening drops. He fell to his knees, howling in agony as the icy sensation ripped through him, the pain exploding in his chest in waves that were both excruciating and severe. As the scent of the familiar blood grew stronger, engulfing him, the demon inside him raged and his demonic countenance appeared. His own blood splattered and mixed with the slowly evaporating crimson shimmers as he fell face down on the marble floor, cracking open his head.

How cool the marble floor is, he thought, as if his life weren't perhaps in danger, as if he had all the time in the world to consider the tactile sensation of the cool tile. The thought was fleeting however, as the excruciating pain was fast beginning to overwhelm the nerve endings in his brain. Before completely drifting into the dark sea of oblivion, he pleasantly recalled the vision of Buffy standing in the glow of the streetlight looking up at him with her green eyes, their mossy depths dark and enticing in the dim light. "Buffy…" It was his last thought before he lost consciousness.

Eyes wide with shock, Connor looked up over Angel's prone form and right into Lorne's angry face. He backed up slowly, panic fast overtaking him as the magnitude of what just happened sank into his consciousness. He expected at any moment that Angel would evaporate in a cloud of dust. He turned abruptly when he bumped into Gunn, standing just behind him on the steps with an angry scowl on his face, blocking his exit. Connor had no idea how long either of them had been there or how much they had heard; but they both obviously were not going to let him go. Nervously, he licked his lips and returned his gaze to his father, lying still and quiet on the lobby floor.

The next minute passed in horrified trepidation as the three of them waited for Angel to explode into ash, but with each second that ticked by, their confidence rose that their expectation would not, after all, come to pass.

While Lorne cautiously stepped forward to check on the vampire, Gunn promised Connor in a low voice that if Angel did not recover he would see to it personally that the young man spend a good part of his life locked in the cage in the basement of the hotel.

Buffy woke with a start and sat up. She shivered as a cold chill abruptly raced down her spine, unbeknownst to her signifying the completion of the spell that she had initiated three years prior. When the disconcerting sensation subsided, Buffy shrugged a shapely shoulder and snuggled back down in her bed. Within minutes, the deep even breathing of sleep resumed and she returned to her dreams, unaware of what just happened at the Hyperion.

***
At the sound of the door to Angel's room opening and closing, Cordelia sprang up from the chair where she had been waiting for him to return. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair, tousling it, and applied a fresh coat of dark red lipstick. She smoothed a hand over the tight red peignoir she wore, now reassured of her appeal. Step one in Operation Reclaim Angel was to appeal to his baser instincts. If she could get back into his bed, the rest of the relationship would easily fall back into place.

She stopped short when she opened the door to his room only to find Gunn and Lorne laying Angel on his bed, Connor hovering nearby.

"What happened?" Recalling then that Angel had gone to Sunnydale to retrieve Connor, Cordelia's eyes landed on her young lover. "Just what the hell did Buffy do to him?"

Connor's eyes lit on Cordelia appreciably, taking in the sight of her lace-clad figure with her breasts threatening to topple out of the low-cut gown.

"She didn-" Gunn started, glancing at the blonde seer with disdain.

"She's always trouble for him, that bitch. Trouble with a capital T." Cordelia muttered, angry to have her plans for the night altered.

"But Connor-" Lorne turned, finally realizing that Cordelia had not been in the room when they entered with Angel but had come from somewhere nearby. His eyes drifted casually around the room, noting too the changes. Had someone happened between the couple that he wasn't aware of? But then, she was in his room scantily clad…

"You! You had to go to Sunnydale didn't you?" At Connor's name, Cordelia whirled back to him, jabbing her finger in the air in his direction. "You just had to find little Miss Buffy slay-gal didn't you?"

"I-" Connor

"Well - was she everything you thought she'd be? Are you in love with her now too?" Cordelia interject jealously, her features twisting into an angry mask.

"Cordelia, honey-lamb chop, calm down. Angel came back from his old neighborhood just fine." Lorne soothed, putting his arm around the blonde seer and taking her hand.

"Then what happened?" Cordelia shrieked, shaking loose from the green demon as she was fast losing any attempt at calm.

"Connor here seemed to feel the need to throw the vase of odd and ever-appearing lilies at his father in temper-tantrum of sorts, and, well, let's just say, I'm confident that Angel-cakes is more than allergic to the former botanical beauties." The Host quipped, answering Cordelia's question. "Of course, it would appear that we've finally figured out how to get rid of them."

"What flowers? The lilies? What are you talking about?"

"Yes, my little éclair, *those* lilies." Lorne replied with a nod.

"You did this to him?" Cordelia hissed, pinning Connor with an angry look. "How could you?!"

"I-" Connor stammered, uncertain of what to say and shocked that the love of his life was turning on him so unexpectedly. After all, he hadn't known that Angel would have such a violent reaction to the flowers.

"How could you do that to your own father?" Cordelia shouted at Connor as she pointed to where Angel lay prone on the bed. "Come with me and tell me what happened." Whirling around the seer made for the door. She wanted to talk to Connor alone and find out what happened in Sunnydale.

"He doesn't leave my sight." Gunn called out to them before they reached the door. "I told you that already, Connor. You either stay where I can see you or I lock you in the old cage in the basement. Your choice."

"What?" Cordelia turned surprised eyes back to the man standing behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't trust him and until Angel wakes up, he's not getting out of my sight. If Angel never wakes up, then I'm judge and jury and Connor goes to Hyperion State Penitentiary. It's as simple as that."

Cordelia pursed her lips in frustration at Gunn's stance. In an aggrieved tone, she capitulated to his demand as she said, "Well, I'm sure Angel would trust me to watch his son *and* his back as well. Rest assured I won't let him escape or attack Angel again."

"No." Gunn stood firm.

"Fine. But let me tell you Angel is not going to like hearing how you treated me." Cordelia turned and stomped out of the room, stopping to grab Connor's sleeve and drag him along with her. They stopped at the far end of the room, still in sight but not close enough for the others to hear them clearly.

"Did you find Buffy?" Cordelia whispered, anxious now to hear what happened with the blonde Slayer in Sunnydale.

"Yes." Connor replied, his attention drifting to the tops of her breasts, which were now heaving in agitation.

"Connor. Stop that. They'll know if you keep looking at me like that." Cordelia admonished, glancing back to Angel's bedroom where Gunn and Lorne now stood by the bed talking quietly. "Did Angel see her?"

"Yes." Connor reflected back on the intense way that Angel had stared at the petite blonde.

"And? Don't make me ask for every little detail. What did he say to her?" Cordelia questioned, wanting to know each and every word spoken between Angel and Buffy as if knowing would somehow help her in her quest to return to her former relationship with the handsome vampire.

"I dunno. He just stared at her a lot. He seemed mad at her about something."

"Really?" Cordelia smiled broadly, delighting in the idea that the two star-crossed lovers would not be getting along, even now. "What?"

"I dunno. He just yelled something about what had she done to herself." Connor muttered, annoyed already with her questions. He glanced over his shoulder to Angel's bedroom. Lorne was watching them curiously.

"Oh? What had she done? Was she fat or what?"

"No. She looked like the picture pretty much. Longer hair maybe." Connor replied distractedly. He was feeling considerable remorse of the events of the evening for reasons that were too difficult to understand, particularly with Cordelia in his face, grilling him about the girl.

"Humpf. Well, then what had she done?"

"Cordy, I told you I don't know." The young man replied in irritation.

"Well, what did she do when he said that? What did she say?"

"She hit him."

"Really?" Cordelia beamed, pleased that there had been no touching reunion between vampire and Slayer.

"Yes." Connor replied, the realization dawning that Cordelia - his love - had dressed in the tiny, sexy wisp of lace for his father. Not for him. Yet, she hadn't been in *their* bed… It made no sense. In a pique of anger he couldn't resist adding, "But then he just said something like 'That's my girl'."

"Shit." Cordelia muttered, her mind racing. She glanced over at Angel, still motionless on the bed. Her eyes returned to Connor's face. "Why'd you hit him with the flowers? What were you thinking?"

"I dunno. It just happened. I was mad. I threw them. I didn't know they were magic or whatever." Connor replied with annoyance as he turned to walk back to his father's bedroom. He was tired of this game of 20 questions, irritated by the reminder that his girl shared her sexual favors with his father, and worried - although he wouldn't admit it - about the vampire.

"Connor." Cordelia whispered, grabbing Connor's shoulder to stop him. "Listen. You, me, us. It's over. I realized that I really … love Angel and I need to make things right with him. It was fun - our little fling and all - but, well, you understand."

Connor's eyes widened with surprise at her words. He was unable to mask the hurt on his face at her blunt words. "What? What do you mean?"

"What I said. It's over. Now scram, okay?" Cordelia gritted her teeth and said softly, smiling as Lorne approached her with one of Angel's shirts. Raising her voice, the seer continued, "And don't ever let me hear you talk about your father like that again. I'll throw your ass out on the street."

"Here sweets, you must be cold." Lorne draped the shirt over Cordelia's shoulders, glancing at Connor who shot Cordelia a hurt look before walking back into Angel's bedroom. "He's strong, that vampire of yours. I'm sure he'll be okay."

"Oh, Lorne. I hope so." Cordelia turned to look at the Host with a worried expression, the two of them following Connor back into Angel's bedroom where the vampire still lay quietly on the bed.

***
Angel made his way rapidly through the streets of LA, urgency drumming through his every nerve as he hurried toward his destination. The tall brick building was familiar, as were the people that he passed now at a near run. As they had always done before in his dreams, they watched and whispered as he past them by but he paid no attention, his sole thought to get to her before it was too late.

When he reached the door between the blue lights, he yanked it open without slowing and pushed his way inside. He wasted no time in working his way to the back of the room, straight to the blue glass cage.

It was just as he had remembered; the glass base and top were covered with tiny white crystals, sparkling brightly; the surrounding bars were icy, clear and thick. Only this time, there was no girl inside for the blue light to shine upon; there was only a single crimson lily.

He stepped closer, reaching through the bars toward the flower as if somehow to touch it would confirm what his eyes were seeing: that she wasn't there. When his fingertips grazed the stem, a chill swept down his spine. When he grasped the flower, he gasped, the icy bite of the stem in his palm sharp and piercing. The flower then seemed to explode in a cloud of shimmering drops, leaving behind only a few traces that it had existed at all: drops of deep red blood stark against the pristine white snowy-like crystals that lined the bottom of the cage.

Angel reached up to grasp the icy bars, yanked on them in frustration as he stared into the empty cage. Without realizing it, his features had morphed into his demonic countenance, a single drop of blood falling from his fangs onto the crystal floor. As he howled with rage and pain, a chill wind swept over him, a wind as bleak as his thoughts and he damned himself to hell a thousand different ways for ever being foolish enough to let her go. For the first time since he'd left her, he felt completely and entirely alone.

The stabbing cold eventually numbed his fingers and arms, forcing him to let go, to move, to go back to the hotel …back to his life which now seemed utterly empty. Speaking softly into the icy wind and silent blue-lit platform as he lowered his arms, his visage returning to his human face, he murmured, "Buffy…you're not gone forever… right, sweetheart?" No reassuring reply returned, only the continued wailing of the wind and the faint fluttering of a few sparkling iridescent crystal slivers.

Angel's eyelids fluttered at the touch of the cool cloth on his face. He could hear Amelia crying close by, the sound rivaled by Cordelia's voice reverberating through the room in shrieking bursts alternated with Lorne's low whispers.

The first thing he saw as the room came into focus above him was Fred's face, hovering over him anxiously. A hasty scanning look assured him that he was in his own room, in his own bed. His last memory had been talking with Connor in the lobby of the hotel…

"Oh thank god you're all right." Fred said softly dabbing at his face with the cloth, her brown eyes full of worry. "We were so worried."

Angel pushed her hand away as he struggled to sit up. What had happened? How long had he been out? Glancing at the clock he noted the time: 6: 45 am. It had been two hours since he and Connor had arrived at the hotel. Somehow, two hours had slipped away from him.

"Angel? You okay, man?" Gunn stopped next to his wife, looking at his friend and co-worker with concern as he patted the back of the still crying baby he held over his shoulder. He'd missed most of what happened, waking only minutes before to the sound of loud voices in the hotel lobby and arriving just in time to see Connor throw the flowers as Angel turned away.

Connor slowly rose from his crouched position against the wall, his eyes wide with apprehension. He'd spent the last two hours vacillating between bitter anguish that Cordelia had dismissed him so readily from her life and agonizing, unexpected worry that Angel might never wake. Now he was facing the stark reality that deep down he actually did care about his father; the feelings were vague and unformed, but there just the same. He wasn't ready to face the absolute finality of Angel's death - or rather the snuffing out of his unlife, as much as he thought that that was what he wanted all along. He knew that Holtz would be disappointed in him, but somehow that mattered less right now than the fact that it appeared that his father was apparently all right.

"Yeah. Fine." Angel's voice was low, emotionally charged. He rubbed his hands across his eyes as he attempted to make sense of what had happened.

"Oh my god, Angel. You're all right!" Cordelia pushed past Lorne, then shoved Gunn and Fred aside to launch herself on the bed. She threw herself at Angel, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and dramatically weeping on his shoulder. "I was so worried."

Lorne smiled, touched at the seer's obvious concern for what he still believed to be her significant other. "There was powerful magic on those flowers, Angel-pie, of that there is no doubt."

Angel met Lorne's eyes over Cordelia's head as he attempted to shake the clinging woman loose. "Cordelia, let go." Irritably, he grasped her arms and untangled her, forcibly pushing her away from him.

"Oh Angel, I was so worried. When Gunn and Lorne brought you up stairs, I just nearly died." Cordelia shrilly exclaimed, reluctantly releasing her hold and standing next to the bed.

Angel glanced thoughtfully around the room, his eyes coming to a rest on Connor.

Sheepishly, Connor looked at the floor, ashamed to meet his father's eyes.

It came back to him in that instant - the flowers hitting him, the excruciating icy pain, the overwhelming scent of blood… Buffy's blood. His dream.

Gradually Angel became aware that he felt… changed. He was used to the utter stillness of his own body, but this was something different. It wasn't as drastic as the loss of his soul, and yet it was strangely similar. Something was missing… something that had been ripped from him painfully. It was as if some subconsciously relied on sense of comfort, some underlying sense of confidence or feeling of well-being were ... gone.

Angel's head came up with a snap. He kicked at the blanket draped over his lower body. "Phone. Where's my phone?"

"What?" Cordelia glanced at Angel with consternation, putting her hands on her hips.

"Give me the damn phone." Angel swung his legs over the bed and scanned the room for his coat. His cell phone was in the pocket. Both of which were still downstairs.

"Here." Gunn tossed Angel his own phone, picking up on the obvious unease and frustration in the vampire's voice.

"Thanks." Angel caught the phone, immediately dialing the number he had long since memorized. He stared at the floor as the phone rang and rang, each ring ratcheting up the level of anxiety and trepidation that was threatening to consume him.

"Hello."

"Buffy?" Angel released an unneeded breath of relief. He'd thought that Buffy had… that she was … gone. He'd only felt this strange emptiness once before and that had been when she had been taken from her life - and from him - so abruptly all those years ago by Glory.

After a long pause, Buffy sleepily questioned. "Angel?"

"Are you all right?" He asked softly, savoring the sound of her voice.

"Yes. Sleepy." Buffy yawned, curious about the early morning call after last night's events. The cuts Connor inflicted were not bad enough to really warrant a follow up call, but she should have known that Angel was not the type to leave well enough alone. Of course, he seemed… relieved, not challenging or angry has he had been or as she might have expected. "What's up?"

Glancing up, Angel suddenly realized that there were now 4 pairs of eyes trained on him with intense interest. "Uh, nothing."

In a sudden flash, the pieces began to fall into place. The flowers. The missing mark. The tattoo-like vine on her finger. The dream. Magic. Buffy's blood was on the flowers. The lilies were somehow part of whatever very powerful magic spell that Buffy must have used to sever the connection between them. Their bond... it was now broken.

"Nothing?" The confusion in her voice was obvious as she reiterated his word. " Are you all right? You didn't hit your head on the way back or something, did you?"

"Can I call you later?" Angel glanced up once again at the curious faces. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn't want an audience to do so.

After a long moment, Buffy finally replied. "Uh, okay I guess. Why?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Sure, okay." She replied matter-of-factly, once more pleased at her ability to deal with Angel objectively, without the emotional baggage that she had carried with her for so long.

"When? I mean, what's a good time?" Angel glanced up again, noting Cordelia's scowl and Lorne's puzzled expression. Connor was looking at the floor and Gunn was taking in the whole scene with a bemused expression. Fred had taken the hungry Amelia into the other room to feed her.

"Well, I usually get home around 7 and then I'm home until I go on patrol around 10, so anytime between there." Buffy replied, her voice somewhat muffled as she moved the phone around. The muffled sound of feet padding across the floor was followed by the hum of running water.

A vision of Buffy, wearing only her robe with her hair rumpled from sleep, running water in the kitchen to make coffee or tea in preparation to start her day rose agreeably in his mind. He smiled slightly. "I'll call you tonight then, okay."

"Fine. Bye." The phone when dead as Buffy hung up.

Angel, his expression thoughtful, clicked off the phone and handed it back to Gunn.

The lilies must have been part of whatever powerful magic spell that Buffy had used to somehow break the bond between them. A part of him had known instinctively to avoid them; perhaps he detected the scent of her blood on them or perhaps somehow he just knew.

Their bond had been something that he carried inside him; it reassured and comforted him, it gave him confidence and strength and, more than anything, it had made him believe that he could be more than what he had been. It was part of what Angelus had so resented about her - that she made him feel human. But now it was gone.

When had the flowers shown up in the hotel? 2 years now? 3? And why had she done it? Why then? Was it permanent? Did he have a chance to repair the damage that he had done to their relationship, to make things right? Angel's mind whirled with question.

Willow. He needed to talk to the most likely person that would have helped Buffy with such a spell.

"Angel, what the hell was that all about?" Cordelia demanded, drawing his attention back to her. "Just what happened last night?"

"Nothing." Angel sighed, tired already of her shrieking and insistent demands even though he knew from experience that she had only just begun. "It's nothing."

"Well, everyone's in here acting like they thought you were going to die. Damn it, Angel, you can't just dismiss it like it's nothing." Cordelia demanded impatiently. In her apprehension of the last hour while Angel lay motionless on his bed, she had never lost sight of her reason for being here. He had to live, not just because without him she would no longer receive her visions, but because she had to allied with him, a true and chosen warrior, in order to stay in this dimension.

"I'm fine." Angel interrupted, glancing at Connor who appeared repentant and mortified. Not to mention … wounded. "Thanks for your concern, everyone, but I'm fine now. I would like talk to Connor for a few minutes alone."

"You sure?" Gunn looked coldly at Connor before his eyes returned to Angel's. He didn't trust the young man after what he'd seen and what Fred had told him.

"There's nothing magic or heavy for him to hurl at my head, so I think we'll be fine. Right, Connor?" Angel quirked a brow in question at his son as he rose from the bed.

Connor nodded, tucking his hands in his pocket.

"I don't think you should be alone with him, Angel. What if he has a stake?" Cordelia viciously retorted. Since step one in Operation Reclaim Angel had been diverted, she'd switch to her next step in the plan, which was to prove her love and loyalty to him in no uncertain terms. And that included ceasing her affair with his son, no matter how enjoyable that relationship had been for her. She never once stopped to think that she might actually be hurting her young lover in the process; that simply had never crossed her mind. "I'll stay here with you."

Angel nodded at Gunn who followed Lorne out the door. "It's not your concern, Cordelia. Now get out."

"But-" Her eyes widened in surprise as the vampire ushered her quickly and efficiently to the door. Once more Cordelia found herself outside Angel's bedroom with the door closed firmly in her face. And once more, she let out a few choice expletives before stomping out of the room.

"Now Connor," Angel turned back to his son. "I think we should talk."

Hours later Angel emerged from his room, refreshed from a few hours of sleep and a shower, all effects from the earlier impact of the flowers fast becoming a distant memory. He and Connor had talked for a while that morning, not resolving their differences but finding some common ground to at least begin mending their broken relationship. Nothing had changed from their earlier conversation, however, and Connor had accepted his punishment of being confined to the hotel and had been in his room ever since.

Now sitting at his desk, Angel shuffled through his messages and returned a few calls for their various cases before turning his attention to personal matters. Fred had found Willow's number for him earlier, and had left it on his desk along with his other messages and several case files before she and Gunn had gone out to dinner.

Angel turned the slip of paper over in his hand a few times, before he finally worked up the nerve and reached for the phone.

"Hello."

"Willow?" Angel asked, somewhat taken off guard when she answered on the first ring. Even though he hadn't heard her voice in years, he would have recognized it. She still sounded exactly the same.

"Yes? Who is this?" Willow replied, a touch of curiosity in her voice.

"Angel."

"Angel?"

"Yes." Angel murmured softly, feeling somewhat transported back to the years in Sunnydale at hearing the titan haired girl's voice again. Only now she would no longer be a girl.

"What do you want?" Willow asked coolly, her voice unwelcoming.

"I- It's about Buffy." Angel hesitantly posed, not sure where to begin and somewhat surprised at Willow's unfriendly tone. Of all of Buffy's friends, she had been the most accepting of him, the most encouraging and supportive of their relationship.

"And?"

"I need your help. I want to know what she did. What magic she used to … I'm not sure exactly. Somehow she broke the bond between us. I don't know how or why…"

"Why should I help you?" Willow interrupted bluntly.

Angel was a bit taken aback at Buffy's best friend's candid question. "Well, I-"

"Why would I help you with anything? You've done nothing but hurt her. If she'd done anything to break the bond between you, then I say good for her. If you need help with something, then why don't you go to your superficial saint, Cordelia, Ms. higher power, the new love of your eternal life, and ask her? I mean, she should know everything right? She works for the damn powers. Maybe she can be good for something besides leading a gullible and senseless champion for good off the righteous path. Wait - this probably doesn't involve money or a vision so perhaps she can't help you."

"Um-" Angel wasn't sure how to respond to the former wicca's statements and accusations. Honestly, he had no idea that anyone in Sunnydale knew so much about his life now - or at least how it had been these last years.

"Just because something's pretty and glowy, Angel, that doesn't make it good. Or safe. Or even right. You should know, things aren't always as they appear. But then again, you're always one to believe any claim from the selfish and evil ones so I doubt things will change very much for you."

"Willow -" Angel began, wanting to explain, to somehow try to defend himself and his actions. Of course, other than admitting that he'd been incredibly shortsighted and most likely selfish, he had no excuses.

"Goodbye Angel." Willow hung up the phone without waiting for his response.

Angel cursed softly. What now? He had suspected that working his way back into Buffy's life wasn't going to be exactly easy but he hadn't expected to be so firmly shut down by her best friend. No matter. He wasn't anywhere close to even considering giving up yet. But he needed to find out what she had done.

Nikkos! Of course! He'd know about spells like this. Angel rifled through his desk in search of the phone number for Magos Exousia. Not finding it immediately on hand, he dialed information.

He asked for the number and jotted it down before waiting impatiently for the call to be connected.

The phone picked up on the second ring and Nikkos's voice sounded. "Hello."

"Nikkos-"

"Magos Exousia will be closed until the 15th for an extended holiday. Thank you for your continued patronage and we will see you all in the new year. Kala Christouyenna and Eutychismenos ho! (Merry Christmas & Happy New Year)."

Angel dropped the phone back in the cradle with a resounding thud. Was he not going to get a break? He guessed that now he'd just have to go to the source: Buffy. He glanced at the clock. It was only 5 pm. He headed to the training room. It would not only kill some time, but it would help to burn off some of the nervous energy making him edgy and restless.

***
Just after 8 pm, Angel once more picked up the phone. He dialed Buffy's number and waited anxiously for her to answer.

"Hello."

"Buffy."

"Angel." Buffy paused, curious and little bit unnerved that Angel had insisted on calling. After a long moment of silence, she asked. "So what's up?"

"I wanted to apologize about last night. About Connor. And for my own behavior." Angel briefly toyed with the paperweight on his desk before sitting it down and turning his full attention on their conversation.

"Hey - no big. Thanks for the apology though. I can see you've pretty much got your hands full with him. He's rather feisty. Bit of an attitude too. Course have you tried giving him a good ass-kicking? I'm pretty sure it's not child abuse when he's - well, as old as Connor appears to be."

"It has crossed my mind." Angel smiled slightly at Buffy's ramble. He'd forgotten how endearing that trait had been, how absolutely adorable she was when she trailed to a halt from one of her various conversation tangents with a slightly self-conscious expression on her face.

"How are you?" Angel asked softly, wanting to hear her voice, wanting to get to know her all over again.

After some hesitation, Buffy warmed up to their conversation. They talked for a while about various mundane topics; Dawn, Sunnydale, LA, slaying.

They'd been talking for little over an hour when Angel blurted, "Can I see you?"

"What do you mean - see me?" Buffy replied after a brief pause, her voice tinged with reservation.

"Giles was here recently. He told me something that I wanted to tell you." Angel answered, suddenly grateful that he hadn't yet used his original excuse for getting in touch with her.

Silence hung between them, Buffy indecisive as she pondered why Giles might have come all the way to LA recently and not visited Sunnydale; what he might possibly have said to Angel.

"And I really don't want to do it over the phone. Please?" Angel entreated softly after waiting for what seemed like an interminably long pause in which Buffy didn't answer his question.

"Okay." Buffy softly agreed. Even though their earlier conversation had been warm and friendly, she wasn't sure that any further contact between then was necessary or even a good idea. Of course, he hadn't suggested anything more than sharing information. It wasn't like it was a date or something. He'd probably even bring Cordelia. They could all catch up on old times. "When?"

"How's Saturday?" Angel glanced at the calendar. Saturday was New Years Eve. Damn. The next thought that crossed his mind was entirely unwelcome - what if she had a date?

"Saturday's good." Buffy replied automatically, rarely occupied with social engagements. She rarely went out on dates anymore, having found so few men that interested her beyond more than just casual conversation that she'd pretty much swore off the whole dating scene. Anya of course still pushed, she so did the occasional blind date to keep them pacified and happy, but she was busy with her job at the school and with patrolling at night, which didn't give her a lot of free time to ruminate on the lack of a partner. When sexual urges were an issue, she had Mr. Happy, as she had affectionately named her pink vibrator.

"Buffy?" Angel's voice startled her out of her reverie.

"Damn." Buffy glanced at the calendar. Oops. Anya had insisted that she join the gang at the Bronze for their New Year's festivities and Buffy had reluctantly agreed. "You know that's New Years Eve, right?"

"Yes." Angel replied, not especially concerned with the particular date as much as he was in seeing Buffy again.

"Why don't we meet at the Bronze? It's probably easiest." Buffy suggested. A group setting was probably best now that she thought of it; she wouldn't be required to make uncomfortable small talk with Cordelia and she could hear whatever Angel wanted to say then make her excuses and leave. No awkward moment at midnight while she was alone amidst all the kissing couples; her friends would be understanding that she wouldn't want to see her ex with his new love so for once they wouldn't badger her about the acceptability of this or that guy as her new potential love. She didn't need to tell them that Angel's new life no longer bothered her, rather she'd be grateful for the excuse to escape from more of her friends sweet but feeble attempts to force her into a 'normal' life. A life that everyone seemed to want for her, but her. Meeting at the Bronze was perfect.

"What time?"

"Um, ten or so?"

"Perfect." Angel smiled, relieved that he'd gotten what he wanted: an opportunity to see her in person and begin his campaign to win her back.

"See you then. Bye, Angel." Buffy hung up the phone, her curiosity piqued.

Angel stared thoughtfully at the phone as he clicked it off, a faint smile still playing on his lips.

As man or demon he'd never failed to charm, captivate and eventually seduce any woman that had attracted his interested eye. In fact, most had been absurdly easy. It wasn't masculine bragging, just the plain truth.

With Buffy, he'd always felt a sense of restraint in courting her; initially because of her age and her inexperience, later because of his own misguided reservations about her duty and eventually because of the curse. Now that none of those were an issue he could pursue her unimpeded.

Angel stood, walking toward the stairs as he contemplated his upcoming trip to Sunnydale. He couldn't get back the years he wasted, he mused, but there was still plenty of time for a leisurely seduction...

 

 

 

Part V

 

Buffy stood on the edge of the parquet floor at the Bronze watching her friends dance. Anya moved around Xander's wheelchair with graceful moves, the former Sunnydale High graduate confined to the wheeled conveyance after a construction accident two years ago had left him with only limited use of his legs. Jessie and Willow danced nearby, showing off their newly acquired skills from weeks of classes in ballroom dancing.

Without warning, a hard arm slid around her waist and swung her forward, out onto the dance floor. Buffy suppressed a surprised gasp then fought to collect her wits and her balance, only to lose both as Angel pulled her closer pressing her tightly against him. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, his thighs firm against hers.

Even though he had anticipated it, there was no icy bite of sensation when he touched her, no painful chill. Undoubtedly, it was related to the spell and the existence, or rather lack thereof now, of the lilies. With the disappearance of the lilies, so had gone the icy touch.

Buffy noticed the missing sensation as well, glancing up at him in surprise. Despite the spell surrounding her heart, her body instantly came alive in his arms. Her breasts swelled and her nipples hardened. A warmth swirled in her belly, moving lower. She attempted to hold herself rigid but her body naturally molded to his, his thighs brushing hers evocatively with each subtle movement of their dance. Their hips swayed together, predictably, sexually. Memories of past times being held in his arms just this way surfaced with riotous ferocity.

Angel savored the feel of her in his arms after so long. She relaxed against him yet refused to meet his eyes, struggling to take control of her spiraling wits, to cling to her composure. His touch had sent her senses into an unexpected tailspin.

"Um, Angel. You're holding me too close." Buffy murmured softly as she caught sight of her friends gaping at them openly. "What are they going to think?" She quickly looked for Cordelia, expecting to see the former cheerleader scowling over Angel's shoulder at them any minute as well.

Angel looked down at her, studying her face. Everything was so achingly familiar and yet he felt that in some ways he had never really looked at her before. He cared little what her friends thought. For the first time, he was going to put them - their relationship - first. His gaze roamed the slender line of her throat, taking in once again the absence of his mark from her neck. "I've held you closer, if you remember."

Buffy's eyes shot up to his face as she took a swift intake of breath. The husky whisper with its carnal allusion affected them both, Angel tugging her hips closer to his in a natural and instinctive gesture. Unable to form a coherent response, Buffy said nothing but simply swayed against him to the music, lost for a moment in the feel of his body against hers. Her body fit so neatly, so perfectly against his that it felt natural to be held in his arms. This wasn't what she had expected or planned, but it felt … nice.

Her glorious golden hair was pulled up tightly on her head and he wished nothing more at the moment than to free the tiny sparkling dragonfly shaped clips holding it in place and watch it tumble onto her shoulders and down her back, across her breasts…

"You look beautiful." He murmured then added in a hushed undertone, "I've missed you."

Buffy opened her eyes, lifting her head from his silent chest to look up at his face. "Thank you." She calmly remarked, as if she couldn't feel the slight bulge of his erection against her stomach, as if they danced like this often when in fact this was only the second time they'd seen each other in over 4 years. She dismissed his statement about missing her as politesse and returned her cheek to his chest, content for the moment to enjoy the feel of being held.

"So who's tall, dark and glowery over there with Buffy?" Jessie asked bemused, noting that the blonde was dancing for the first time that night.

Willow frowned, noting the vampire's presence for the first time. "Angel."

"Buffy's ex." Anya added for clarification. "What's he doing here anyway?"

"Angel? Angel's here?" Xander whirled around in the direction of their glances, caught off guard by the name he hadn't heard in quite some time.

"I don't know." Willow stated flatly. First Angel's call, now he was here in Sunnydale. She'd done the spell to restore his soul a few years back after a pleading call from Cordelia, who had been easily forthcoming with the information that she had been the reason for Angelus's return. Willow had suspected lies and so had done a little sleuthing with magic - finding out later that the ritual she had performed had been purely a smoke and mirrors show for Angel's benefit; his soul had instead been taken by a Shaman with powerful black magic and later returned when the demon that had bartered for the act paid the agreed on price. Although she had no proof, Willow believed that Cordelia had been the very demon responsible. At the very least, the former Sunnydale resident and girl known as "Queen C" knew more about the events of those months than she would let on. Regardless, Willow had never mentioned the incident to Buffy on the off chance that the Slayer would once again be hurt by her ex.

"Well I know I don't know but I know I sure as hell don't like it. Why's he dancing so close with her anyway?" Xander muttered, spinning his chair around once again to stare at the couple across the dance floor. "You don't have to stand that close to dance to this song. And where's Cordy anyhow?"

"Maybe he's evil." Anya suggested, watching as Buffy's head came up with a start at something the tall vampire whispered near her ear. She murmured something in response then returned her head to rest against his chest, after which he kissed the top of her head so lightly that she didn't even seem to feel it before closing his own eyes, as if savoring their dance.

"He could still be evil." The ex-vengeance demon insisted, even though the observed actions seemed to be in direct contrast to her words.

"Maybe." Willow replied distractedly, her attention focused on the couple as well. "Wonder if she knew he was coming?"

"I doubt it." Jessie tugged on her lover's hand, drawing her attention back to her. "Besides, it's just a dance. She looks like she's enjoying herself for a change. What's the big? You guys always want her to find a guy. He's a guy, isn't he?"

Three pairs of eyes swiveled around to look at the brown haired girl.

"What? He's not a guy?"

"Will. You take this one." Xander wheeled his chair off the dance floor, Anya following. They stopped at their table and continued to watch Buffy and Angel move together under the dim lights.

"They do make a striking couple. He's all tall dark and handsome, she's little blonde and sunny. It's a nice contrast, really." Anya commented, blithely ignoring Xander's irritated scowl.

"Where's Cordelia?" Finally gathering her wits as the song came to an end, Buffy looked up at him, stepping back and freeing herself from his hold.

"Still in LA I would imagine." His voice was softly emphatic as he reached for her hand, not willing to let her go completely.

"You are completely unscrupulous." Buffy admonished, jerking her hand away from him irritably. "For the record, I would find your behavior unacceptable."

"What? Dancing with you?" Angel smiled slightly at her, enjoying the slight flush on her cheeks. Was that from anger or from their dance? He'd felt the slight response of her body to him; that she wasn't entirely immune to him warmed his heart and gave him hope. Not to mention, it stirred another part of his anatomy with results that would be far more obvious if he hadn't been wearing pleated trousers.

"You don't hold another woman that close, even when you dance, you- you - well I don't know what you are but it's not something good! Dancing that way - it's practically cheating." Buffy snapped, stepping back from him. Her physical response to him annoyed her, as did the idea that he could most likely tell given his vampiric senses. "You're-"

"-still attracted to you?" Angel finished with a small smile. A smile that she'd not seen in years and even then not often, but one that had easily melted her reservations on more than one heated occasion. His fingers circled her wrist, drawing her steadily toward him.

"What the hell are you doing, Angel? You came here to talk now you're acting like you want to seduce me." Buffy replied then added pettishly, "And I thought you were bringing your girlfriend."

Damn, Angel thought, this was not at all how he had intended to start the evening, but when he'd seen her standing there in her figure hugging black dress with the low-cut back, all of his rational thoughts flew right out of his head and he simply gave in to impulse and swept her into his arms.

"I'm sorry. You look so beautiful." Angel apologized, instantly contrite. He lifted her hand and kissed it, his lips brushing lightly against her knuckles as his eyes sought hers. "I just wanted to hold you. To dance with you."

She waited almost 5 seconds before she replied, uncertain what to say to such an unexpected answer. "Okay, fine, whatever" she said finally, "but don't do it again. I have no wish to have Queen C after my head. Sunnydale has demons enough without that one in particular."

As if she only just realized he was still holding her hand, Buffy jerked away, her agitation and quick movements drawing attention from the people nearby. "And stop holding my hand." She hissed softly through her teeth, while forcing a smile at the gawking onlookers.

"Sweetheart, your friends are watching." Angel glanced over Buffy's shoulder, noting the obvious and mostly unfriendly stares of her friends. "They're going to be over here with a stake in a minute."

"I'm *not * your sweetheart," she repudiated, "and it's not like they haven't seen us argue before." Bristling with outrage at his casual, almost lackadaisical response to the mention of his current lover, vexed at her body's almost eager response to him, and indignant that he could seemingly ignore all but his own interests with ease, Buffy continued huffily, "Why don't you just tell me what you came here to say, then you can leave. I'm sure Cordelia will be waiting for her kiss at midnight."

"Jealous?" Angel looked down at Buffy's face, amused. How had he thought he could ever have accepted anything less than his gorgeous golden girl? How was it that he'd allowed himself to settle for a cheap imitation these past years, curse or no? Just being around her made him feel more alive than he'd felt in years.

"Please. If I took the time to be jealous over every two bit whore and demoness who's bounced on the Angel ride, I'd be in a perpetual shade of green." Buffy retorted as she plastered a fake smile on her face and turned to wave at Willow and the gang who were watching them with undisguised and concerned interest.

Angel laughed, amused at her wit even though he was a bit chagrined of what she obviously believed about his many and varied sexual exploits as both man and demon. Of course, he had never professed to live a life of celibacy before he met her; and afterwards, well, all other women had paled in comparison. He leaned closer to her, tilting his head as he studied her face. His grin was wicked. "Your eyes are green."

"Very funny. Ha. Ha." Buffy looked at him with irritation as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, you said you wanted to talk, so talk."

"I do want to talk to you, but somewhere quiet … private." Angel replied, a quiet reflective nuance underlying his words.

"We can talk here. It's quiet." Buffy replied, raising her voice to be heard over the music that had resumed playing. "Well, it's sorta quiet." She amended as she glanced up at his expression out of the corner of her eye.

"Please." He entreated softly, his voice low and husky near her ear as he bent down so that she could hear him without shouting.

"Unless you'd rather dance…?" He added, the idea of holding her in his arms again far more appealing than simply talking. If she wanted to stay, then he certainly had no objections.

Buffy sighed, turning back to face him. His expression was sincere, his powerful body tense beneath the white linen shirt and black leather jacket, his dark eyes intent upon her.

"Okay, okay. Fine. We can go-" Buffy drew a blank, unsure where they could go and find privacy on New Years Eve. Grudgingly, she continued, "We can go to my place. Let me tell the gang that I'm leaving."

Angel replied politely to the barely civil greetings that he received from Buffy's friends, curtailing the impulse to speak up when they whispered their disapproval to her that she was leaving with him. With considerable effort, he also ignored Xander as Buffy's high school pal stared at him openly with hatred as he bitterly and less than discreetly berated Buffy for what he perceived to be another of her shortcomings: the inability to think straight when it came to her vampire ex. He was honestly surprised to see Buffy's high school friend in a wheelchair; she hadn't mentioned anything about it nor had the news made its way to LA via Cordelia's gossip grapevine. He made a mental note to ask Buffy about it later.

Angel escorted Buffy to his car, opening her door as she slid into the black GTX. He was somewhat surprised to find out that she still preferred to walk rather than drive, which was just as well - driving had never been one of her strengths.

Buffy rode mostly in silence, speaking only to direct Angel to the small condo where she now lived. Luckily it had been close enough to the house on Revello drive that she was able to keep her old phone number - if for no other reason than sentimentality. Most of the furniture and other household items had been sold along with the house, helping to pay for their bills and Dawn's college education.

When they arrived at the condo, Buffy invited Angel in, hanging her coat in the closet and draping his over the back of the couch.

Angel glanced around Buffy's small condo with a critical eye. It was neat and tidy, but was almost lacking in personal touches. There were framed pictures of her family and friends along the mantle, but little else to give him any clue about the woman in front of him or her life now.

Buffy offered to make tea and Angel accepted, not because he particularly wanted it but because it would give him time to compose his thoughts. He sat and watched contentedly as she bustled around the kitchen.

"So, you said on the phone that Giles came to see you?" Buffy questioned, breaking the silence as she sat two cups on the table along with the teapot. She paused for a moment after she sat, having the strangest sense of déjà vu; as if she and Angel had sat like this before.

"Yes." Angel replied, reaching for the teacup and curling his hand around it, enjoying the warmth of the steaming liquid.

"And?" She prompted, curious and somewhat impatient to hear why Angel had felt it necessary to see her in person on New Year's Eve and without his significant other in tow. Briefly she wondered how he had managed that. Knowing Cordelia as she did, the former brunette would surely have expected him to be with her on such an auspicious occasion as the start of the new year.

Angel took a deep, unneeded breath for courage. How many times had he wished he could have said these words to her before? How many times had he practiced them in his mind on the way here? Yet, now that the moment had arrived, he was unsure how to begin.

"Angel?" Buffy queried softly, somewhat worried by his serious expression and obvious hesitation in speaking.

Glancing up, Angel stared into her mossy-green eyes. Finally he spoke. "Giles- He told me that the curse - the one to restore my soul - had been changed."

"Changed? How changed?" Buffy questioned, her voice low and wary. "When changed?"

"The clause - the happiness clause - had been removed. When Willow restored my soul." Angel replied softly, the impact of the words significant due to their timing. It meant that his soul had been returned to him without the perilous clause when he had gone to hell with Acathla.

"What?" She questioned again flatly, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.

"Jenny changed it. Giles knew… but he never told anyone until now."

"How could he do that?" Buffy asked, bitterness in her voice. She stared at him, unable to think or process the multitude of thoughts and questions that were swirling in her mind.

"He had his reasons. I think I even understand-"

"Understand?!" She interrupted, standing abruptly and causing the cups on the table to rattle, tea spilling over the rim. "You understand! How could you?" Buffy whispered as she paced restlessly to the window, staring out into the darkness, the implication of his words washing over her. The undesirable aftermath of the clause in the curse had seeped into every part of her life - their life and had, at base, been the reason that Angel had ultimately left her.

"Look Buffy, I was angry at first too. It's certainly not by any means the way I would have wanted things to turn out, but it's also not the worst thing that could have happened." Angel said softly, shrugging his shoulders the slightest bit as he stared at her back. "If you hold a grudge or refuse your forgiveness, you'll only end up letting it continue to hurt you. I know, I've been there."

Without turning back from the window, Buffy asked, her voice flat. "Why'd Giles feel the need to tell you this now? Nine years later."

"He's sick, dying." He paused for a long moment before he murmured the words softly, knowing that they would be difficult for Buffy to hear given her feelings for her former Watcher.

Buffy spun around and stared at Angel's face. Why didn't she know that Giles was sick? Why hadn't he told her? More deception? More lies? She always thought that Giles had been the one person that she could count on, the one person she could always trust. Now it seemed that the man she'd loved as a father had betrayed her. Well, it just proved to her that the words that Whistler had said to her all those years ago still rang true - 'In the end, you're always by yourself. You're all you've got. That's the point.' Angel had shown her time and again the truth of those words and now Giles simply reinforced them.

"So, he thinks that because he's dying that he can just what? Get all these things off his chest and go to the grave with a clear conscious?" Buffy exclaimed angrily, hurt and enraged at the dishonesty that had been perpetrated. "How dare he?"

"Buffy." Angel soothed, finding her reaction to Giles's ill health somewhat unusual. He expected tears or sadness, not this clinical anger. Had she had a falling out with her mentor? "Put yourself in his place."

"I have been in his place! There have been a lot of times that I've had to make hard choices, choices that I would have made differently if it had only been about what *I* wanted." Buffy trailed off softly, a trace of anger still evident in her tone. "Being in his place doesn't make it right, Angel."

"No it doesn't make it right, but it is understandable, you have to admit that." He continued in a low anguished voice, "I *murdered* his girlfriend. He saw this as a way to punish me. You think you wouldn't do the same thing?"

"No." Buffy retorted without hesitation. What Angel? You don't remember the understanding, the sympathy, the loving support that my friends, my family, my Watcher all gave me when I was forced to murder my lover? Oh, that's right you weren't around to see it. Do you think they would have understood if I had let you live instead of sending you to hell with Acathla? No. Were they supportive when I hid you after your return from hell or when I protected you from Faith? No. Did I ever punish them for any of it? Make them feel the slightest bit guilty about it? No.

"Buffy, sweetheart, there are no absolutes. We all make mistakes. We're just doing what we think is best at the time. We're all weak and when we get hurt - deeply, horribly hurt - that pain, those wounds bleed into our lives, tainting our judgment until even the most foolhardy choice seems logical, practical. Until the most vicious and cruel act imaginable can seem justified..."

"That's no excuse. He fucked up my life. Your life." Buffy's eyes met his again, as she glanced up from the table where she had been staring down into her teacup, her voice terse with resentment.

"I know. I'm sorry." Angel replied softly, his voice somber. He gazed at Buffy from under his dark brows, his mahogany eyes darker in the florescent glow of the kitchen light. "I know it's hard to accept. To understand."

"You're sorry? I don't buy that Angel." Buffy murmured softly, a contentious note rang in her words.

"I am sorry Buffy. Things should have been different for us-"

"Why? Because we could have had sex?" A small tight smile played over her lips at what his words implied. "You would have stayed in Sunnydale if you had known about the clause - or, rather lack of the clause - and kept the promises that you made to me about making things work? That we'd be 'okay'?"

"That isn't the only reason why I left. You-"

She continued as if he hadn't spoken, her voice sweet and mocking, "That is all that a relationship is based on, isn't it? Sex. Making love. Or at least that's the most important part. Love alone, without the physical act - well, that's not enough. Companionship, friendship, mutual interests - those hardly matter. How could I have forgotten what you taught me?"

"That's not true" Angel breathed, his voice between a growl and a whisper. He was more than a little uncomfortable with her implication that he had left her with such a jaded view of relationships.

"No? Oh, sorry - there's sunlight too. And normal. Let's not forget - things must be *normal *." Buffy replied with soft sarcasm, "Is life with Cordelia *normal*, Angel? "

"Buffy-"

Abruptly Buffy held up her hand and looked away from him. This conversation was pointless; Angel's life now was not her business nor should it matter to her in any way. He'd made the choices he'd made for whatever reasons and they'd both learned to live with them.

"Look, Angel, it doesn't matter." Buffy turned back to face him, her voice softly apologetic, her green eyes luminescent in the soft light. "There's no sense in looking back on what might have happened, what could have been. We'll never know." But would things have been different? Would Angel have tried to make things work with them - with her- if they had been able to make love?

"Thanks for telling me. About your soul. About Giles." Her tone was very matter-of-fact, albeit somewhat cool and unemotional. "And hey - I suppose I should even say congratulations. Although-"

"Although what?" He asked softly, urging her to continue and slightly confused by her abrupt about-face in the conversation.

"I always thought that, well, that you-" Buffy sighed, sitting back down in the chair across from him. It didn't matter, not any longer, so she might as well just get it out. "I mean, I guess I always thought you had somehow secured your soul. Since you could, you know- make love to Cordelia. Unless maybe it was different because of the whole demon thing…"

Angel glanced away, unable to meet her eyes. Awkwardly, with voice tinged with apology, he said, "I didn't - that is, I hadn't. But… it wasn't the same."

"Oh." Buffy studied his profile for a moment, before a flash of anger rose. Anger that he wanted Cordelia so much that he'd risk the return of Angelus to be with her. It was stupid at worse and irresponsible at best. Her eyes blazed with anger as she challenged, "Well, then wasn't that awfully risky then?"

"No." he replied firmly, absolute conviction in his words. "Absolutely not. I would never- I always knew that I couldn't- that I wouldn't lose my soul. The curse was always in the back of my mind."

"I see." Buffy acknowledged, thinking over his answer. She poured more tea as she contemplated her next words. "Well, I'm glad things have worked out for you."

Angel's brow furrowed with concern and he frowned. He was beginning to suspect that the spell that she had done had closed her off emotionally from everything, from her friends, from him. Even from Giles. His eyes drifted over her curiously, searching for any sign, any detail that might in some way give him a clue as to the origin of the spell - and how it might be broken. The tattoo vine ring was still apparent although now it appeared more blue than black. Other than that and the missing mark, there were no apparent physical signs.

"Angel, unless you have something more to say you'd better go. You're already too late to get back to LA before midnight. If you don't hurry, Cordelia will probably kick your ass out."

"Promise?" he softly inquired, continuing his lazy perusal of her features.

Buffy stopped short at his reply, lifting her brows in question.

Angel leaned forward, chastising himself for not being more forthcoming with the information earlier about his breakup with Cordelia. While he, quite firmly in his mind, was no longer with the seer in any way, shape or form, Buffy had no way of knowing that. Perhaps that's where some of her reluctance was coming from. "Cordelia and I - well, we're not together anymore."

Buffy scanned his face with her eyes, effectively hiding her surprise. "Really? Since when?"

"A few days ago."

"Oh. So a breakup and no loophole in the curse and here you are? How convenient." Buffy retorted, "Let me guess… you figured that no-date Buffy would be lonely and would make for some convenient and easy fun while your tried out your new no-clause curse? Or did you just want to see the look on my face when you dropped the news on me, since the funniest part is always the look on my face when-"

"Buffy, please." Angel interjected softly, "That's not true. You know I've never stopped caring about you. Loving you."

"Really? You ever tell Cordelia that?" She questioned casually, tilting her head slightly.

Unable to look her in the eye, Angel glanced away. To his shame, he'd never been honest with himself or with Cordelia.

"I thought so. Look, Angel. Thanks for telling me. For making the trip here in person and all. I appreciate it- really I do." She declared very simply, pleased with the objectivity that she now had in dealing with him.

Purposefully he stood and walked around the table to stand near her. Buffy craned her neck to look up at his tall height.

"What are you doing?"

"It's almost midnight." Angel stepped closer to her chair, reaching for her hand and slowly raising it to his lips. His lustrous eyes were the color of deep rich chocolate, intense and beautiful as he stared down at her with ardent speculation.

"So?" She whispered, an elusive sense of want drifting through her senses.

"So it's New Years Eve. It's almost midnight. I want to kiss you." Angel said softly, his glance tender as he lifted a hand to brush aside a tendril of her hair that had escaped her upswept style and had fallen over her forehead.

"Um, I don't think-" Buffy licked her lips nervously, despite herself.

"Don't think." He said, his voice taking on a husky quality. His fingertips brushed across her bottom lip with the lightest touch. "Just kiss me."

She swayed toward him as he bent down, as if guided by magnetic attraction. "I shouldn't."

"I know." His lips settled on hers with the lightest touch, teasing gently. He intended to woo her using all of the skills he'd acquired since first making love to his governess at thirteen. In the years since, he'd become quite accomplished at pleasing women of all types, be they human or demon, and he was determined that none of that expertise would go to waste in his attempt to win back the one woman that he loved.

He kissed her with light brushing kisses first, reaching down to draw her up and into his arms. When her hands settle on his biceps, he closed his eyes and claimed her mouth eagerly, tasting the sweetness of her lips with his own, gently stroking her bare back with his fingertips and waiting until she was returning his kisses with an eagerness of her own.

"This is not sensible." Buffy murmured, breaking off their kiss for air as Angel's lips slid along her throat. The kiss had shaken her, her physical response to him unrestrained.

"I don't want to be sensible." He whispered softly against her ear, nibbling gently on her neck and causing goose bumps to rise along her arms.

"And I'm not interested in what you want." Buffy pushed back from him and stood utterly motionless, working hard to suppress the desire that he had so easily evoked. He still stood much too close for her comfort.

"What about what you want?" His voice was low, hushed, resonating in the small kitchen as he took note of the subtle signs of her arousal; her heated skin, her flushed cheeks, her scent.

She didn't pretend to misunderstand his implication. "Are you talking about sex? Why don't you just say so? You want to know if I want you?"

"I already know that. I was wondering if you'd acknowledge it." Angel voice was soft when he replied, a faint smile on his lips.

"So no more happiness clause so you thought maybe you and I could-"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head slightly. "It's not like that-"

Her brows rose in surprise. "No? Then what?"

"I mean yes, you know I want you. I want to be with you. Of course, I want to make love to you. But that doesn't mean I came here expecting anything." Angel said in a quiet tone, holding out his hand in supplication. "I've been stupid Buffy, I should have realized it before now but I didn't and for that I'm sorry."

Buffy studied him through the veil of her lashes.

"Sweetheart, I want a relationship with you." His voice was intense, his statement one of emotion and feeling. His dark eyes drifted over her, wondering again how he'd lived without her these last few years.

"Angel, you know I care for you." Buffy stepped away from him, and paced briefly around the small table as if she needed physical distance. "I'll never forget you, what we shared."

A promising start, Angel thought, relaxing slightly.

"What we had once… It was nice." She continued, resting her hand on the table and looking directly at him.

The feeling was more than mutual, he reflected. The time he'd spent with her had been the best years of his long life; she was not only passionate beyond his wildest dreams but she conjured up a depth of feeling in him that he'd never experienced before or since.

Buffy paused, studying Angel in the soft light of the florescent overhead lamp. There was no denying his physical appeal; his facial features were classic and aquiline, his frame etched with a compelling animalistic strength and near predatory grace, both of which were so undeniably masculine, so breathtakingly appealing that it was no wonder he had been the gold standard that all the men that followed him in her life had been measured against.

"Quite honestly, Angel, you're much better than any erotic fantasy I've ever imagined." Buffy stopped and looked at him levelly, "or any other lover I've ever had."

Her statement stirred both pride and possessive jealousy, as he found that he intensely disliked the thought that other men had known his Buffy intimately.

"However, I'm not interested in a relationship with you." She finished flatly, her green eyes gazing at him with something akin to sympathy.

"What? What about us?" Angel questioned, taken aback at her words. He hadn't expected this to be easy, but then he hadn't expected an outright, blunt refusal either.

"There is no us, Angel. There hasn't been an "us" since the day you left me."

"Buffy… I want to make things right with us. I want to spend my life with you." Angel entreated softly as the cold, harsh reality of her words began to sink in.

"I don't." Buffy returned the exact words to him that he'd said to her so long ago. Words that had broken her heart now did the same to him.

After a few minutes of silence, Buffy declared softly. "You should go."

Angel nodded, walking slowly toward the door. He lifted his coat from the back of her couch and shrugged into it, not allowing him to think of anything except moving forward. He wondered how he would survive without her now that he'd realized how much she meant to him.

"Good night." He said the required pleasantry even though he didn't quite mean it, his voice so quiet that it barely carried beyond their position at the door.

"Take care of yourself." Buffy replied, pleased with herself that she was able to calmly articulate the words.

Angel paused for a moment, feeling he needed to do more than just wish her a casual good bye. He longed to take her in his arms, to take her with him. Instead, he only kissed her cheek and murmured the required response before turning and disappearing into the dark night.

Buffy shut the door firmly behind him then leaned heavily against it. She found herself not only drawn to him but also terrifyingly tempted. Angel was everything she remembered, gorgeous, sexy - singularly and absolutely captivating. There was no doubt in her mind of the exquisite pleasure that could likely be found in his arms. However, she was no longer a young and impressionable young girl whose head could be turned by a handsome, older man with a seductive glance and persuasive smile. Nor was she some desperate, lonely spinster that would fall into bed with him should he but nod his head. But the temptation to indulge in a few intimate physical delights had been more than strong…

Buffy sighed and pushed away from the door. She'd spent too many years - not to mention the magic spell - to get him out of her system and move on with her life. She relished her independence now, her emotional objectivity. Surely she was strong enough to resist one man no matter how sinfully handsome or celebrated his sexual expertise…

Regardless of the fact that she'd been celibate since her disastrous affair with Spike...

Perhaps she had too many principals, she reflected. After Spike, she'd resolved to be more prudent in her choices. And Angel… well, getting involved with him even just for carnal satisfaction would be not only imprudent, but several yards, miles even, beyond that.

Shamelessly unreserved and wickedly delicious in bed though, a devilish voice inside her head reminded her, forcing vivid memories of their nights together to the forefront of her mind.

She gripped her hands together as she walked down the hallway toward her bedroom, as though she might restrain her sexual urges with the simple gesture. It was nearly impossible to do however with stark images of Angel sitting across from her at her small table lodged in her brain - his tantalizing smile, the boldness in his glance, the overwhelming sense of power that he personified. He was tall, dark and breathtakingly handsome, all honed muscle and animalistic grace beneath the perfectly tailored clothing, the black leather blazer emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders, the starkness of his features.

She'd never met another man like him, his presence one of sheer physical force. The purity of his finely molded features was only accentuated by his physical perfection, his rich chocolate eyes enhanced by the slender sensual lips that more than promised impassioned pleasures of the highest order. He was, indeed, the consummate male animal.

Good god - she was carrying on like an infatuated adolescent - again, Buffy thought with a brief shake of her head. Perhaps a little time spent with Mr. Happy to assuage some of the sexual frustration burning inside her was in order. But sex toys just didn't appeal when Angel's virile and erotic image was in the forefront of her brain.

Buffy sighed heavily. Maybe she should go patrol instead.

***
The vampire's dark brows rose faintly as the door closed firmly behind him. Her words had been painful, but pain was something he was used to, something he understood. In no way did it mean that he was giving up, however.

Angel glanced back at Buffy's door as he reached his car. He doubted if she'd be very forthcoming with any information about any magic she had engaged; last time he'd asked she'd plainly told him that it was none of his business. Of course, he hadn't asked her in the politest of ways, having been rather angry and bewildered himself at the time.

She wasn't unresponsive to him, that much he knew. But she also wasn't herself. Either she truly no longer cared about him - or Giles - or it was the spell that she'd done.

He'd start with the spell.

***
Angel waited until Buffy left on patrol the following night, then crept quietly up to her condo door. He grimaced at the ease with which her door lock was picked, making a mental note to ensure that it was replaced with something stronger at some point in the near future.

His eyes swept around darkened living room, his preternatural eyesight taking in the objects with ease. It was much the same as it had been the previous night. Various pictures of Dawn, Willow, Xander, and Buffy lined the mantle. A larger picture of Joyce sat off to the side next to a white orchid. Angel smiled slightly when he touched the silken petals; the orchid was silk. For some reason it reminded him of her various comments over the years about her inability to care for things: goldfish, kids.

He glanced at the two magazines on the table then moved cautiously down the short hallway. Even before he reached her bedroom, he was assaulted by her scent. It was vanilla and honeysuckle and an underlying scent of pure Buffy. He breathed in the various smells like a man gasping for breath as he slowly but surely made his way to her room.

He paused in the doorway before entering with reverence, cognizant of the fact that he was infiltrating her private sanctuary. A brief flash of guilt washed over him as he considered that he was invading her privacy, but it was buffered by a stronger need to have her back. And for that, he was impatient.

Angel flicked the switch on the low lamp on the bureau, casting the room in a golden glow. While he didn't need the light, he wanted it. He wanted to see the colors and textures of her room, as if it might give him a clue about the woman she had become. As the rest of the house, her room was neat but sparsely furnished. The walls were a warm, rich peach contrasting nicely with the textured adobe brown duvet on the bed. A faux Indian print rug partially covered the golden oak hardwood floor.

With stealth and speed, Angel searched her closet, finding little of interest to detain him. He was careful to leave everything exactly in place so as not to arouse her suspicions. He found himself easily distracted as he searched through her chest of drawers, the tiny wisps of silk panties and lacy bras eliciting carnal thoughts that he didn't exactly have the time to indulge just now. His eyes widened in surprise when he found the pink vibrator, carefully hidden at the bottom of one drawer. Her scent was clearly on the pink object, indicating that it had indeed been used on occasion. With a heated rush, visions of Buffy pleasuring herself with the vinyl instrument clamored through his mind and sped straight to his now semi-hard and growing arousal.

Angel carefully tucked the sex toy back into the drawer, forcing aside the lascivious and carnal thoughts that were demanding action in his brain and body, and attempted to turn his mind back to the reason for his midnight search of Buffy's home - to find anything he could about the spell and about her.

After searching the closet, the chest of drawers and the nightstand without finding anything that gave him even the slightest clue, Angel turned to the chest that sat under the window. It creaked when he opened it, the hinges worn from use. He flinched slightly from the cross laying amidst the various weapons, his eyes skimming over the stakes and bottles of holy water before coming to rest on a stack of journals. Her diaries. He wavered, torn between the desire to read them and the need to respect her privacy. Searching her room was violation enough he determined with effort; she'd never forgive him if she found out that he'd read the almost sacrosanct diaries.

Sighing, he closed the chest and turned to the bed. Perhaps if he found nothing else, he'd have to at least skim through them. Even in his desperate need for information, he found the idea somewhat distasteful.

He knelt and looked under the bed. There were two boxes. He slid one out and opened the lid. It was filled with odd bits of mostly bloodstained clothing. He pushed it back in place, then slid out the other box. His eye was immediately drawn to the small card taped securely to the top. It was one of his business cards for Angel Investigations, one that Cordelia had had made the first year that he'd been in LA.

With a foreboding sense of trepidation, he lifted the lid on the box. The cross that he had given her lay on top of the various papers and small boxes inside, the smooth silver gleaming subtly in the low light. Cautiously he lifted it aside, mindful of the pain that such a beautiful piece of jewelry could easily inflict on him. Underneath the necklace were a neatly tied together stack of letters, a dozen or so in all, all of which he noted after he slipped them out of the ribbon holding them together, were sealed and addressed to him in LA. Had she written then and not sent them? Before the thought was even complete, he noticed that they also all had "Return to Sender" printed on them in a looping and familiar cursive script. Buffy had sent the letters and Cordelia had received and returned them. Angel cursed softly, his features twisting in displeasure. Here was yet another damaging thing to chalk up to his seer.

Setting the letters aside for a moment, he glanced through the other contents in the box. There were two cards and a letter that he had given her when they were first dating, along with the book of poems that he'd given her for her birthday. In a velvet jewel box he found a pair of blood red ruby earrings and an elaborate matching choker that Angelus had given her. A second velvet jewel box contained a pair of square-cut deep green emerald earrings. There was also a note that read "Soon" that the demon had sent her along with flowers on Valentines Day. He was somewhat startled to find that she'd kept the things from his demon. He was also dismayed to realize that Angelus had gifted her with more elaborate gifts that he himself had.

Continuing to shift through the contents, he picked up a worn business card with a date of May 2003 neatly printed on the back. Turning the card over he was more than surprised to see the name Magos Exousia. Angel had no idea that Buffy had ever been in Nikkos's shop. However, the date could be about right as to the time when the flowers at first appeared at the Hyperion… Perhaps she'd bought a spell book there that she'd used. It wasn't much, but it was more than he'd hoped. Even though it had been three years, it was possible that Nikkos would remember her, the shop proprietor having a known weakness for beautiful women.

Pleased with his find, Angel briefly glanced at the last two items in the box, a fat manila envelope with the return address of a Los Angeles funeral home printed on the upper right corner along with a small prayer card. He thought it unusual that her mother's funeral had been handled by a home in Los Angeles, but dismissed it as not particularly important. Perhaps Buffy's dad had initiated the arrangements. He replaced the items back in the box with meticulous care, stopping when he picked up the letters that had been addressed to him. His curiosity overcame his reservations about further invading Buffy's privacy, and he withdrew a small pocketknife from his pants pocket.

He opened each letter carefully, slipping the sharp blade under the envelope fold and cutting through the glue that held the envelope closed, and read through them one by one. His heart ached to know that she'd poured her feelings for him into these letters, yet they had been callously and unknowingly rejected.

The words were slightly different in each letter, her mood clearly vacillating with the dates and the events of her life at the time but the gist was often the same: she told him that she was trying to be strong, trying to be what he wanted her to be but that she still loved him and missed him. In one particularly poignant letter she entreated him to reconsider his life in LA, emphasizing her belief that love could conquer all, that they could overcome any and all obstacles in their paths together if he would but give them a chance.

With a heavy heart, Angel opened the last and presumably the final letter she had ever attempted to send him. It was dated, May 19, 2001.

Angel,

I'm writing you this last time to say goodbye. I wanted so desperately to call you but I was so afraid that if I let myself hear your voice that I would never be able to go through with this, even though I know I don't have a choice. Or maybe I'm afraid that you, with your noble sense of duty and responsibility, would insist on trying to help me. I can't risk your life too. I know that I could never again watch you die - that would be far worse for me than having to face death myself. This is something that I have to do alone.

I love you. I will *always* love you. I never stopped. I tried, but I couldn't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry too that I could never have the normal life you wanted for me. I tried, but I just couldn't do that either. Maybe Slayers just don't do normal, you know?

Please take care of yourself. You have to be strong, even when you want to quit or give up. Remember that there are things in this world worth fighting for. Sometimes the hardest thing in this word is just to live in it.

Goodbye Angel. I know you'll find your redemption. I hope with it you find love and happiness too. You deserve it.

Always your girl.

Much love,
Buffy

She had written to him just days before her battle with Glory. A tear leaked out of his eye and dropped on the paper as he thought of her alone in her room writing him one last time, knowing that she'd face her death within days. Again, he cursed his own stupidity for leaving her alone, for not being there when she needed him most and for blindly ignoring obvious clues that were right in front of his face about the betrayal and deceit Cordelia perpetrated right under his nose. Adding insult to grievous injury, it appeared that this letter, like the others, was returned to her the very day that she faced Glory and died. He wondered if she knew, or if her friends had simply tucked this letter in with the others.

The sound of the key turning in the lock startled him out of his heartrending reflection and brought his head up with a jerk. He moved quickly, switching off the light and replacing the letters in the box and sliding it back under the bed. Apparently he was also no longer able to easily sense her nearby the way that he used to; he guessed the reverse was also true for Buffy - likely she'd be unable to tell him apart from any other demon or vampire her senses picked up.

For a brief moment he considered forcibly taking her away with him. In the next moment however, reason replaced raw emotion. Opening the window quietly, he dove through the small enclosure into the nearby bushes. Standing quickly, he closed the window and then blended in with the shadows of the night.

***
When he reached LA, Angel took the side entrance to the hotel and made his way quietly up the rarely used back steps. He wasn't in the mood to trade pleasantries with anyone, and he doubted if he had it in him to be civil to Cordelia tonight.

Maybe Buffy was right to send him away. He couldn't just expect to walk back into her life again after all this time. Having his soul permanently didn't change the man that he'd shown her he was. He'd hurt her time and again, both directly by his own words and actions and indirectly by not paying attention to what was going on beneath his very nose. Now he'd have to regain her trust and her love.

Angel unlocked the door to his room quietly, wanting to avoid a confrontation with the dyed blonde residing across the hall at all costs. Locking the door again behind him to prevent any unwarranted intrusion, he went directly to his bedroom, stripping off his jacket and shirt along the way.

Just before he crawled into bed, he paused for a moment before retrieving his keys and opening his trunk. He reached into the bottom for the small cloth box that had held several of his items from Sunnydale, muttering a curse under his breath as he realized that he hadn't gotten his things, other than the Claddagh ring that he still wore, back from Connor. He'd ask his son about it tomorrow. In the meantime, he selected a picture of Buffy and sat it on the table next to the bed.

"I'll get you back, sweetheart." He said softly to the picture as he turned off the light. His words, driven by emotion, were like scenting his mate, primordial and reflexive. He didn't allow for any doubt to cloud his mind. Against all reason, all logic, he knew that she was still his *mate*. He was determined that this was one campaign that he would not lose.

***
In the week that followed, Angel's activities adhered to a typical pattern. He threw himself into work with a zeal that he'd not shown in years, refused to see or even speak to Cordelia, and spent most of his non-working time scouring magic shops in Los Angeles and the nearby cities for any and all information on magic spells that would be used to break a bond between a demon and his mate.

When he was at the Hyperion, he preferred his own room and his own company, although he did spend some time with Connor, attempting to find some way to deal with his difficult and clearly resentful and angry son.

Buffy called late the second night he was home, responding to the gift of the deep violet-blue hyacinths that he'd sent her along with a note of sincere apology. They talked briefly, Buffy suspicious and Angel wary of being to forward or aggressive in his courting for fear that it would scare her away.

Two days later her sent her a large bouquet of Shasta daisies in a pottery vase, followed in another two days by a blooming Serotina honeysuckle. Several days later, Buffy returned home from patrol to find a large bouquet of peach roses in a copper tin along with a whimsical note. Each time she received the flowers Buffy called, chastising him for sending the clearly expensive arrangements but he could tell that she was pleased. She jokingly told him that he shouldn't expect to see the plants next time he came to Sunnydale - she wasn't particularly adept at keeping live things alive.

The flowers continued apace, Angel searching for unique and exotic flowers (with the explicit directive to the florist of 'no lilies') with which to woo her, as did the phone calls. He guised it under the name of friendship and apology, teasing her that he'd switched to flowers now instead of plants so that she wouldn't have the burden of plant ownership. Gradually she warmed to him, their conversations friendly and cordial. He could still detect the lack of real emotional depth in her voice and it worried him. Was the spell permanent?

When he wasn't busy or couldn't sleep because his impatience for Nikkos's return rose with a vengeance, he drank, reducing the pain and uncertainty of his future with Buffy to manageable levels.

One evening he woke late, rising to find Lorne sitting on his couch waiting patiently for him.

"Well, cup-cake, have you brooded long enough?" Lorne asked, crossing his legs. He knew that the vampire and the seer had had a falling out - that had been obvious since Angel and Connor's altercation in the hotel lobby. What he didn't know was why. Cordelia had tearfully told him that Angel had thrown her out without reason. When he had suggested as much to Gunn, he had been met with a skeptical raise of an eyebrow and a few choice words that implied that the seer had perhaps not been truthful or faithful to her vampire lover. Lorne shuddered then, recalling Angel's words and cold expression several mornings ago when the vampire had mentioned that someone had been lying to him. Now though, the green demon was here hoping to find the truth and dispel some of the obvious tension that had been suffocating the occupants of the hotel.

"Not brooding." Angel cast Lorne a skeptical look as he past by him on the way to the small fridge he kept in his room stocked with blood. "Waiting."

"Waiting?" The Host asked curiously, his eyes following the vampire across the room. "Waiting for what, might I ask?"

"Information." Pulling out a bag of blood, Angel turned away from Lorne as he fed. Normally he wouldn't have even considered feeding with anyone else around, but his patience with Lorne was limited.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the little blonde Sunnydale-based petit-four that's been the recipient of a rather substantial number of exotic blossoming blooms, would it?"

"Yes." Angel replied tersely, turning back to face Lorne. While they were friends, it annoyed him more than a little that the green demon had seen fit to snoop into what he considered to be his personal business. "And I don't want to hear anything about kye'rumption or destiny or fate or true love. You wouldn't know anything about those if they bit you on the ass."

"What?" Lorne sat up with a surprised jerk. "But-"

"Look, I've been going through life these last few years with blinders on, but no more. I've let everyone tell me what's best for me, what to think, what to feel for so many years that I've almost lost the ability to figure it out for myself. I'm done with that. I'm going to get back the one woman - the only woman - that I've ever loved if she'll have me." Stopping in front of the sofa where The Host sat, Angel continued, "And nothing is going to stand in my way this time. Nothing. If you've got a problem with that, then you're welcome to leave."

"Angel-cakes- well, you and Cordelia… the chemistry. The magic…" The green demon was flustered, having never seen Angel's anger turned on him with such absolute finality.

"Tell you what Lorne. When I bring Buffy back, I'll get her to sing for you. Hell, I'll sing for you. And then you can see what kye'rumption really is." With that Angel grabbed his jacket and keys and stalked to the door.

Without thinking, he got in the GTX and started the engine. He had no answers yet to speak of, yet he didn't want to wait another week before seeing her again. He turned the car in the direction of Sunnydale and pressed on the accelerator.

 

 

 

Part VI

 

As she made her way up the walk to Buffy's condo Willow was somewhat surprised to realize that it had already been over a week since the new years eve get together with the gang at the Bronze, which had also been the first time in months that they had all been in the same place at the same time. She felt a small pang of remorse that their small group of friends had grown apart over the last few years. Sure, she saw Xander every week when he came into the clinic for physical therapy but her contact with Buffy usually consisted of a brief phone call every couple of weeks and more often than not that was with Buffy's answer machine rather than the Slayer herself.

She actually had  managed to reach Buffy yesterday on the phone, but they had both been at work and busy which meant that there had been no time to discuss the events of new years eve . and Angel's visit.  She'd asked only very casual and indirect questions about the vampire's appearance in Sunnydale, hoping that Buffy would offer up the reason why he had been in town but she had been customarily mum. No longer content to wait to alleviate her curiosity, Willow had made the drive across town prepared to find out just what was going on.

Not that she particularly expected Buffy to confide anything at all to her. They weren't as close anymore as they had been at one time and hadn't been for almost four years. The appearance and banishment of the First Evil had changed them all that year whether they had consciously realized it or not. For a while they had each withdrawn into their own worlds, content to exist apart after months of constant togetherness.  Buffy, not surprisingly, appeared to be the most affected although strangely it didn't seem to hit her until weeks later.

Willow only noticed that her friend seemed markedly different after she returned from a visit to LA where she had gone in search of additional Slayer lore just before the SITs had all been sent home.  At the time she briefly suspected the use of magic, but quickly dismissed the idea, believing that Buffy would never have turned to the dark arts either for amusement, evasion or solace. Rather than pursue any alternative explanation for her friends changed behavior, Willow had simply dismissed it as the aftereffects of the dramatic months that they had all endured.

On the drive over to Buffys Willow encountered a traffic jam and was subjected to almost an hour of delays while they cleared the debris from an overturned garbage truck from the road.  The unplanned downtime time forced her to consider and reconsider just what she might tell Buffy about Angel losing his soul a few years back and his call to her just a day or two before he made his appearance in Sunnydale.  Despite all the time spent mulling it over, when she parked the car she still wasn't quite sure what, if anything, she was going to say. Ultimately she decided that it all depended on what Buffy said about her ex.

Now stopping at her friend's door, Willow admired the red and white blooms of the honeysuckle plant on the porch, the vine gracefully wound around a decorative metal trellis. Admittedly, she was somewhat surprised to see the potted plant, remembering that Buffy wasn't particularly one to garden.  As she knocked on the door, she heard Buffy's voice along with that of an older woman.

Buffy answered the door and greeted Willow with a brief hug, after which she introduced her to her somewhat new neighbor, Betty Selden.

Willow greeted the older woman politely and took a seat next to Buffy on the couch, her eyes drifting around the small living room and casually admiring the other flower arrangements that were placed here and there surrounding the occupants in lush profusion.

After almost an hour of Betty's prattling chatter and idle gossip, the older woman finally departed, unwilling to miss the upcoming episode of Matlock.

"How do you stand it?" Willow asked with a small smile as Buffy closed the door and returned to the living room.

"She's not so bad. Better than leering Mr. Davidson that was next door. And hey - at least she sleeps soundly at night." Buffy said with a smile and sincere cheerfulness, "Otherwise I have no idea how I could ever explain my odd hours. There's no telling what outlandish story she'd make up and tell the other neighbors if she even suspected that I leave here at 10 most nights and return any time between midnight and dawn."

"True." Willow agreed, returning Buffy's smile and enjoying the shared moment of companionship.

Buffy continued with a laugh, "Of course, all the flower deliveries have sent her into a frenzy of nosiness. She's been over here every day and has been less than subtly trying to find out about my 'young man'."  The Slayer laughed again as she curled her feet under her in the chair, "Of course, she'd have an apoplexy if I told her that the young man is like 250 years old if he's a day."

"So the flowers are from Angel then?" Willow questioned speculatively, wondering not for the first time about the vampire's recent and obvious renewed interest in her friend.

"Yes. I told him to stop sending them, but." Buffy trailed off, her eyes lighting on the nearby basket of violets. "Well, they are very pretty and very sweet."

"What's up with him anyway? He shows up at the Bronze - and without Cordelia - and now showering you with flowers?" The red haired witch asked, gesturing at the various bouquets that aligned the mantle. "Are you two.?"

"No, we're not. Not. anything." Buffy paused and chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment. She'd been turning this over and over in her mind for a week now; perhaps she needed to talk it through with someone, someone who could offer her saner counsel.  After a long moment, she added. "Will, I need your advice. Or maybe just a sympathetic ear."

"Sure, Buffy. Anything." Willow sat forward slightly, happy for even a subtle nuance that resembled the close friendship that they once shared.

"Angel's soul - it's permanent." Buffy continued, clutching her hands together in her lap, "Giles. well, the curse was changed when you restored his soul and Giles - he never told anyone."

"What?" Willow regarded Buffy with mild surprise, a brief flash of memory from the day that she'd done that very spell crossing her mind.

"Jenny had changed it."  Buffy affirmed, glancing at Willow as she returned a few loose strands of hair to her ponytail.

"Okay. I have questions. Lots of questions. Giles. Why? How? Why?" Willow stammered, confused and a little flustered by the news that she had not expected. Although, it did confirm what she had already suspected a few years earlier: that Angel's soul had not been lost to perfect happiness as his seer had wanted everyone, including Angel, to believe. "And now you. You and Angel - but Cordelia-"

"He's not with Cordelia - not any more. At least that's what he says." Buffy replied, dropping her head back against the chair, her voice growing cold and distant as she recalled the damage that had been caused by her trusted Watcher's omission. "And why? Well, Giles wanted revenge."

"But- Giles.I can't believe he'd do that." Willow muttered softly, surprised that the honest and upstanding Watcher had done such a thing. But then again, none of them had ever been too supportive of Buffy's relationship with Angel - something that Willow only realized after she had lost Tara.  And Giles had lost Jenny. with sudden sharp clarity she realized that she would have done the same thing; had in fact done even worse. She had killed the man that had killed her lover. She stared pensively at Buffy, her thoughts taking a melancholy turn.

"Believe. He did do that." Buffy declared coolly, her eyes shuttered. Casually she reached out and pulled a fragrant gardenia from the nearby arrangement, holding it to her nose and inhaling the delicate scent.

"Well, he loved Jenny." The red haired girl excused, feeling a need to explain Giles's actions as they were so mindfully akin to her own.

"I know, Will. And I *loved* Angel." Buffy replied sharply, tired that everyone seemed to forget that fact so easily, tired of hearing excuses for judgments that had been handed down to her over the years for her feelings while the others were always excused for their mistakes and weaknesses, tired of pretending that her love for the vampire hadn't mattered. It was as if she had been held to a higher standard than anyone else, yet had constantly been found lacking as they refused to allow her the same human frailties and failings that they excused in themselves without hesitation or doubt.

"No one has to remind me of the horrible things that the demon that wore his face did, things that *Angel* would never have done but will eternally held responsible for. I know, I was there, I lived each and every minute of it.  Angel doesn't deserve to be condemned for those things. If it was anyone's fault, it was mine for making him into that monster again."

Willow studied Buffy's face for a long moment, cognizant of the fact that Buffy had long felt responsibility and guilt for Angelus's return. Aware too, for the first time, that perhaps she and the others that had professed to be Buffy's friends hadn't understood or empathized with her feelings at all. She never before considered what it would be like to be put in the position where you were expected to kill your lover, nor, she suspected, had the others. They had all simply shifted Angel from Buffy's boyfriend to the enemy almost overnight, with little to no thought of the emotional entanglements involved.

Shifting uncomfortably on the couch, Willow recalled with discomfiture their reactions to Buffy's return after running away. They had all in some way lashed out at her, punishing her for what they had perceived to be wrongful behavior. In retrospect, she could now see that running away to nurse her wounds had been Buffy's only hope at survival, at coming to terms with everything that had happened and still managing to come out sane. Her own despair had turned her into a killer, a path that Buffy could have taken only too easily given her Slayer nature. Fortunately for them all, she had proved to be a much stronger person than they had ever given her credit for.

After a long silence, Willow sighed heavily and began to speak.  "I don't think his soul is permanent Buffy. I think he can still lose it, maybe just not to perfect happiness."

"What do you mean?" Buffy glanced up from where she had been absently toying with the flower in her hand.

Willow then went on to explain in as much detail as she could remember about her trip to LA almost 4 years ago now, how Cordelia had called in a panic wanting to have Angel's soul restored and so she'd packed up the necessary supplies and made the trip to LA.  She admitted that she had kept the trip to herself because she didn't want to add to Buffy's all ready full plate of worries with the First Evil, the SITs and Spike.  Certainly, Angelus loose in the world due to perfect happiness with Cordelia, along with Faith being out of prison would have been just additional burdens that Buffy would have felt that it was her responsibility to deal with.

She confessed to also having done some sleuthing with magic when she returned, having noticed that nothing seemed to pass through her when she completed the spell as it had the first time and also because she didn't quite believe the former Sunnydale cheerleader's story about how he had lost his soul. It was too practiced, too pat and too insincere. Willow admitted to having uncovered information that led her to believe that Angel's soul had been taken from him by a Shaman at the request of a demon but which demon wasn't clear.

Willow finished penitently, "Buffy, I think that the demon was Cordelia. But I have no proof of that. And I don't exactly know what made her return his soul to him, except a guess that the Higher Powers somehow caught on to her. Either way, she had me do the ritual at the same time the Shaman did his so that Angel would think he'd lost it the, er, normal way. You know, perfect happiness."  Little did Willow know that Angel hadn't been the least been fooled by the sham; he'd known all along that it wasn't perfect happiness that relieved him of his soul then.

Buffy took it all in, watching Willow somewhat indifferently. When she finished, Buffy thought once more how all her friends always thought that she was this fragile delicate thing that they needed to protect when the reality was often quite different. She was strong, independent and more than capable of making her own decisions. She didn't need to be sheltered nor did she need them deciding what was best for her. Living without the constraint of constant worry about their judgment these last few years had been more than freeing. The fact that the spell to protect her heart from love had also lifted that burden was an unexpected but quite peachy side-effect.

"Oh. Does Angel know?" Buffy asked dispassionately, as if she were merely commenting on something as innocuous as the availability of a favored fruit at the market.

"No. At least I don't think so. Since he stayed with her and everyone said that they were in love, I figured he forgave her or something - if he ever even knew." Willow replied carefully, her eyes watchful of Buffy's expression, as the petite blonde's response to her story was somewhat unexpected. She'd expected worry or hurt, fear perhaps, but not this accepted nonchalance.

"So, you think it's okay to have sex with your ex? Or is there too much baggage?" Buffy queried after a brief pause, as if nothing she had heard was of any consequence. She shifted on the chair recrossing her leg beneath her.

"Oh, Buffy, you're not thinking about-" Willow questioned with some surprise.

"Yes, actually, I am. I'm attracted to him - sexually. Really attracted, if I were to be completely honest. And it's been so long, since I've ." The petite blonde paused, somewhat reticent to admit that she'd been celibate for the last four years.  "Well, I was thinking - I'm attracted, he seems attracted - maybe we could just - you know."  Buffy shrugged, as if her incomplete sentences made perfect sense.

"You're talking about getting back together with him?"

"No. Not like that. Just, you know, maybe fooling around." Buffy replied matter-of-factly, glancing up at her friend with a playful expression on her face. "I mean, it's not like we ever had much of a chance to do, well, much of anything."  Out of practiced habit, she declined to mention the few passionate encounters she had had with Angelus.

"You want to just have sex with Angel? Nothing else?" Willow's delicate brows rose, unable to contain her surprise. If anything, she expected Buffy to suggest something with more permanence regarding her ex.

"Yes. Is that bad?" Buffy scrunched up her nose, making a face as she slid lower in the chair.

"How do you think you can *just* have sex with him? C'mon Buffy, we're talking about Angel here. The love of your life. The 'I'll never love anyone as much as I love him' guy." Willow scrutinized her friend with a somewhat amused expression. The concept of anything impersonal or less than dangerously emotionally involved between Buffy and Angel was next to impossible to comprehend.

"Things are different now, Will. I'm different." Buffy insisted firmly, unwilling to divulge any information about the spell. She'd never told her friends about it and she wasn't about to reveal that tidbit of information now. 

"What makes you think you can trust him this time, Buffy? Or that you won't get hurt?"  Willow asked exasperatedly. "What if he's lying about not being involved with Cordelia now? How can you even forgive him anyway for getting involved with HER of all people?"

"That's the beauty of it. I don't have to trust him and I won't get hurt. It's not like a relationship - it's just. sex." Buffy leaned back in the chair, attempting to look like she was certain of what she was saying when in fact, this was the first time she'd really allowed herself to seriously consider the thoughts that had been drifting through her mind since Angel's visit the other night. Of course, hearing his warm, sexy voice on the phone had only been propelling those thoughts further. 

"And for his involvement with Cordelia. well, he says they aren't involved and even if he was, so what?" She replied somewhat defensively, her own words in complete contradiction to the scandalous behavior she had chastised him for just the other night.  She'd contemplated that more than once, her morals mentally warring about it for quite some time before reaching the conclusion that she owed no loyalty, no allegiance, no deference, no *anything* to Cordelia. The brunette never gave a damn about her or her feelings and would have stepped on Buffy to get to Angel without even looking back. Perhaps it was time that she simply did the same.

"You'll understand if I don't believe you, right?"  Willow replied skeptically, studying her friend with a doubtful expression. Buffy's casual disregard for Cordelia and her possible relationship with Angel worried her more than little; it was so unlike Buffy to be so willing to ignore someone's feelings. Perhaps it was some sort of jealous retaliation - now that, Willow could easily understand.

"I know it's far-fetched, but trust me on this. I *am* different."  Buffy replied with certainty, studying her fingernails for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet Willow's. "Older. More mature."

"And Angel? He just wants sex with you? Not something more?"  The red-haired girl questioned sardonically, more than familiar with the relationship between the vampire and the Slayer.

"Well, he might have said something about the relationshipy thing. But guys like the no-strings sex thing, don't they? I mean, he wouldn't object, would he?" Buffy chewed her nail, considering for the first time that perhaps that Angel might be against a casual encounter or two with her. In the next instant she dismissed that idea; Liam, Angel and Angelus had a colorful, varied and extensive sexual history - she'd read most of what had been documented in the Watchers journals years ago. No, she couldn't imagine that he'd object very much or very strenuously to what she had in mind.

"I'm probably not the best person to ask about that." Willow replied with a small laugh and shake of her head, "But I'd have to say yes, *most* guys probably do. But you and Angel - I just don't see it."

"I'm thinking a quickie or two, get him out of my system and boom. I'll be ready to find another guy and fall in love and all that." Buffy retorted complaisantly, "Just like you guys have been telling me to do for years."

"Yeah and maybe pigs will fly. Ooh, or- or maybe the hell mouth will stay closed." Willow snapped her fingers gesturing wildly with her arms "Hell will freeze over and Anya will stop wishing she was a vengeance demon every time she and Xander have to wait in line somewhere." At Buffy's peeved look, Willow stopped with her examples and lifted her brows slightly.

"Hey - this could be closure."

Willow nodded skeptically, her head moving slow and exaggeratedly. "Honestly, Buffy, I don't think getting involved with him is the best thing you could do."

"You're probably right, Will. Thanks."  Buffy stretched gracefully, lifting her arms over head and arching her back, signaling an end to their conversation.

Knowing by the expression on her face that her mind was made up, Willow sighed and softly added. "He's only hurt you before Buffy. He'll do it again."

Buffy said nothing, only shifted the topic to their normal conversation topics: Xander's health, Willow's job, Jessie or slaying.

"Angel?" Willie questioned with surprise, looking up from the bar that he was wiping down as the newest patron crossed the threshold.  He was busier tonight than he had been in weeks; in addition to the few regulars that typically hung out, 2 groups of demons along with a cadre of vampires had arrived within the last two hours, all of them chattering about some "Slayer Elimination" tournament that they had been selected to participate in.  Apparently there was a considerable cash prize for the winner, provided that they bring proof of her demise. And, unbeknownst to Willie the contestants had been instructed to meet at his bar and from there the competition would begin promptly at 11:00 pm.

All of which made it somewhat even more surprising to see Angel saunter casually through the door. Willie knew that the vampire had long since moved on from Sunnydale and in fact, he even knew that Angel had a new girl and a son. News tended to travel quickly in demon circles and certainly news about Angel and the Slayer (or her replacement) tended to be particularly juicy fodder for gossip.

Of course, there could be another reason why the vampire might be here tonight. Warily, Willie looked up at the tall vampire, searching his features. "That is you, right Angel, buddy, pal?"

"Yeah, it's me." Angel absently replied as he stopped near the bar and glanced around the room. A pair of Abbadon demons was sizing him up, while the trio of Fyarl demons seemed to be arguing amongst themselves. There was obvious tension coupled with excitement in the air, which he found a bit unusual for the ordinarily staid pub. Of course, he had been away from here for several years and things tended to change. His attention shifted back to Willie, now standing in front of him behind the bar. "Is that a problem?"

"No. Not a problem. I'm just surprised, that's all." Willie muttered before turning away and stacking freshly washed mugs on the shelves behind him.

"Why's that?" Angel returned his gaze to the various groups clustered together in the small bar, his senses picking up the familiar scent of the LA sewers. Several of the demons had obviously only recently come to Sunnydale.

"You haven't been around here for a few years is all."  Willie glanced at Angel briefly before he poured a drink for the demon that had walked up to the bar. "Here ya go, pal. Now remember, you guys have a limit on your tab. I'm not giving away drinks here."

The demon grumbled something in response and took his drink back to the table where he had been sitting with his buddies.

"Well you'll be seeing me around a bit more I suspect." Angel replied, half listening to the conversation between the various demons in the room. His reason for stopping in Willies had been twofold: he wanted to find out what, if any, gossip was currently circulating about the Slayer so that he might be able to help her and quite honestly, he was stalling. Now that he'd arrived in Sunnydale after his impulsive drive, he wasn't sure just what he was going to tell her about why he was suddenly here again. He needed time to think and this seemed as good of a place as any to do that. At the very least it seemed to be a better option than simply driving around in circles.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"  Willie questioned, moving down the bar to pour a foul looking concoction from a plastic jug into a tall glass for the scaly Rothrak demon at the end of the bar.

Hearing a mention of the word "slayer" from the three biker-looking vamps at the corner table followed by a rather rambunctious laugh, Angel abruptly shifted his attention to their conversation and didn't answer Willie's question.

"Angelus?"  The tall, lean vampire questioned loudly, stopping on his way back into the bar from the back room where he'd been having a quick little bit of fun with a female vampire companion. "Holy fuckin' hell on earth! It is you! I'll be damned. How the hell are ya man?"  Eagerly, the vampire grabbed Angel's hand and shook it before pulling him into an almost bone-breaking hug, slapping him soundly on the back.

Willie watched the exchange nervously, expecting trouble when the vamp realized that it wasn't Angelus after all.

"Sebastian." Angel replied almost imperiously, playing the role of his demon as he studied the reputed master vampire with piercing interest. Sebastian hadn't changed much in the 100 or so years since they'd last seen each other. Well, that is except for the clothes. He was taller than Angelus by about three inches, but he was much leaner.  With thick, wavy reddish brown hair that hung down to the middle of his back, the tight black leather pants, ripped t-shirt and studded black leather jacket, the vampire looked like he'd just stepped out of a heavy metal video.

Additionally, Angel noted, there was a good chance his charade wouldn't be discovered as Sebastian was clearly under the influence of some mind-altering substance - alcohol or perhaps drugs. Either was typical - the vampire always one to party hard.

"Don't tell me you're here for the Slayer tourney man?" Shaking his mane of hair out of his eyes, the younger vamp gestured to his friends at the nearby table. "This is fuckin' awesome. We haven't hung out in what - like 120 years?"

"At least." Angel replied agreeably, now warily apprehensive. Slayer tourney? What the hell was he talking about?

"Shit, let me buy you a drink." Sebastian slapped Angel on the arm and turned to Willie, who was watching them with a troubled expression. "Give me and my boys another round of Blood-E cocktails, my man, and a double shot for my friend here."

Willie nodded and mixed the potent cocktails, sliding two of the blood filled glasses down the bar to Angel and Sebastian before taking a tray with the other drinks over to the biker vamps, whose laughter was growing increasingly louder.

"When'd you get here?" Angelus asked with a ruthless glimmer in his eye, doing his best effort to impersonate his demon. When Sebastian turned away, Angel quickly shot a warning look to Willie to keep his mouth shut as the proprietor returned to his usual position behind the bar.

"Today. Only heard about the tourney a couple of days ago. Cheers, man." Pushing the glass into Angel's hand, he clinked the glasses and slammed back the viscous liquid. After a brief hesitation, Angel did the same, slamming the glass down on the bar.

"How'd you find out about it?" Casually Angel probed, careful to not reveal that he had no idea what the wanna-be rocker vamp was talking about.

"Some guy, almost a kid really. Just showed up at our door with an envelope and instructions. Kill the Slayer, get 100K. Shit, I'd kill the Slayer for free but for 100 large - you know I'm there. You?"

"Uh, same." Angel suppressed the panic that the words instilled him and mentally said thanks for whatever urge that had sent him to Sunnydale tonight.  Following that, he felt the smallest unwelcome tremor of dismay. Surely it wasn't.?  With cold waves of dread churning through his stomach, he forced out the question. "You catch a name?"

"Just some guy. Connor maybe? What's it matter man?"  Sebastian grinned manically as he signaled Willie for another drink and clapped Angel hard on the back. "We can kick some ass like old times, only this time we'll get paid for it. Then we can par-tee." When the drink arrived, he lifted his glass in salute to Angel and then to his buddies before drinking it down in one fast swallow. 

Strike one for Connor. Not only was his whole professed attitude about wanting to change their relationship an apparent scam but he'd also violated his 'parole' by leaving the hotel. Angel grimaced but nodded in agreement, returning Sebastian's grin with an honestly angry one of his own and fought down another wave of panicked urgency to do something to stop this apparently planned and soon to be paid for attack on Buffy.

Between casual reminisces of the past with Sebastian, Angel managed to find out that there were 4 'contestants' and all of them had been recruited in LA in the last week. Strike two for Connor. Proximity to the chosen assassins was circumstantial but incriminating just the same.

"These losers" he gestured to the two odd sets of demons in the bar, "are no competition. Surprised the Saubhaudra's ain't here though. They'll be the ones to beat."

"What about the Slayer?" Wille asked somewhat belligerently, feeling an alliance with the tiny blonde girl that had become a fixture in Sunnydale, "She's pretty tough herself."

"Hey, so where is your chick, man?" The longhaired vampire questioned with a leer, nudging Angel with his elbow. His only acknowledgement to Willie's question was to shoot him look of annoyance over his shoulder.

Angel and Willie both turned startled eyes to Sebastian, Angel suddenly fearful that the vampire's friendly demeanor had been a sham and that this was some kind of trap.

"Man, she could suck a bowling ball through a straw, that girl." Sebastian sniggered, grabbing his crotch as if in fond memory.

Willie rolled his eyes and Angel nearly sagged with relief. Darla. He meant Darla. He'd known that she was never faithful but the extent to which she whored around often surprised him. Were there any vampires that she hadn't screwed?  Unemotionally, he finally replied. "Dead."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that man. She was a great lay." Sebastian acknowledged, as if her physical prowess in bed were the only thing that would be missed. He leaned on the bar with his elbows, now distracted by the female vampire across the room crossing her legs seductively and looking at him over her lashes. She had just been wondering how she might possibly attract the two handsome vampires at the bar and proposition them for a threesome when one of them finally looked in her direction.

Angel turned surprised eyes to Willie and intended to speak, but the room strangely seemed to shift out of focus.  When the vaguely familiar hazy cloud passed through his brain again, he clutched at the bar.

"Ah, shit. Not now." He muttered under his breath, the doximall laced cocktail now creating a rushing sensation through his nerves, his brain.  'Blood-E'! The drink. Blood-E was blood with ecstasy.  No wonder Sebastian was out of his mind, the way he was slamming back glasses of the potent mixture.

Angel groaned. This could not be happening, not now, not tonight! Feelings of horror and dread warred with a perverse sense of excitement as the demon within him surfaced.

With traces of gold glittering in his eyes, Angel picked up the now full glass that sat in front of him and glanced at Willie. The promise of retaliation was in his eyes for serving him the intoxicating concoction, but it would have to wait as any control he had held was fast slipping away.

"Ah. Free! Thanks to you, my friend." He sighed heavily and saluted his friend who was grinning at him idiotically, before draining the contents of the glass without hesitation, the smell of blood intoxicating. "I absolutely love this stuff."  This time when he slammed the glass down, it shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, the razor-sharp shards cutting his hand, several pieces left embedded in his skin. 

Angelus laughed delightedly at the pain.  After a moment, his focus shifted to Sebastian and he regarded the other master vampire dangerously, his tongue sweeping along his teeth as his fangs began to appear. 

His eyes scanned the demons in the room before he turned back to Willie and demanded with impatient arrogance, "Got a pencil? I need to write down a number." 

"Uh, yeah Angel sure." Wille regarded the vampire with suspicion, noting the sudden mood swing. It had never occurred to him that the doximall laced drink might have adverse side effects for certain vampires. "Uh, *us* - Angel-*us*." At the feral look from the tall vampire, he corrected himself with the quick stuttered addition to the vampire's name.

While he waited for Willie to return with the required item Angelus sniffed with disdain at the black wool slacks and charcoal cashmere sweater his souled half had chosen to wear today. The idiot had no sense of taste or style, and had proven that to be true not just in clothes. What he wouldn't give for his leather pants.

When Willie handed him the pencil, Angel twirled it around in his fingers briefly, his eyes landing speculatively on the vampire next to him. It'd had been years since Angelus had been out and he had more than a little pent up rage to vent. Rage that began with idiot soul-boy leaving *his* mate behind and continued to build through the years of near mind-numbing domestication at the hands of a shallow, worthless she-demon whore. He'd apparently lost not only his mind in these last few years but his balls *and* his mate. Knowing that he'd have only a few hours to attempt to straighten out the mess that his half-witted soul that made of *his* life, his first priority was clearly to reclaim his mate. He smiled cruelly, thinking of the delicious punishments he intended to mete out to her for even thinking that she could break their bond. 

With that in mind, Angelus turned his attention back to Sebastian. He didn't have time to fuck around with idiot demons and stupid contests that had seemingly been arranged by his hell spawn of a son. Distracted for a moment with the thought, he considered the possible punitive measures that would be appropriate for his only offspring, even while taking pride in his son's apparent bloodthirstiness. It was certainly something to make a demon father proud. To bad it had been instigated against the wrong woman.  Had Connor done the same thing for the wanna-be blonde slut back at the hotel - now that, Angelus chuckled with malicious glee, he would likely have congratulated.

Sighing, Angelus shifted his focus back to the current matter at hand.

"First, Sebastian my friend, let's get something straight. No one will be taking out my girl-"  With calm deliberation, Angelus drove the pencil into the vampire's heart. "But me."  Casually dusting off his hands, Angelus strolled over to the demon sitting at the bar nearby and now staring at him in stunned surprise. He reached into the demon's shirt pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes, removing one from the pack and lighting it, seemingly oblivious to the fact that all eyes in the room were upon him.  Sebastian's minions had come to their feet, indecisively looking at each other and back at Angelus. They wanted to avenge their leader but they were more than a little fearful of the vampire that had taken him out. Angelus's reputation was well known and well deserved.

"Now. Listen up. Who's here for the so called 'Slayer Elimination tournament'?"  Angelus's voice rang out loudly in the now deathly silent bar.

The pair of Abbadon demons, the trio of Fyarl demons and Sebastian's buddies slowly and somewhat hesitantly all raised their hands.

"Great. Outside. We'll kick this off."  Angelus ground out the cigarette on the palm of his hand and tossed the butt on the counter. Eight against one. the odds were not in his favor. But then again, he had some pent up rage burning through him. Perhaps he could pretend that one of the vamps was his idiot souled half. Ah, that idea had some definite merit.

He spun around just inside the door at the sound of a shotgun blast followed rapidly by a second shot.  Willie held the gun over the bar, the barrel still smoking.  The two Abbadon demons lay dead on the floor - apparently they had guessed that perhaps Angelus wasn't simply asking them outside to kick off the contest so they had bolted after him, each armed with a lethal looking pair of nearly 20" long machetes.

Well, 6 to 1 now, Angelus corrected with a touch of disappointment. Without a word, he spun back on his heel and headed outside.

Cordelia shook out her new scarlet crepe skirt, once more admiring the graceful and fluid lines of the fabric as well as the delicate paisley embroidered pattern that adorned the entire length.  The skirt, along with a new matching velvet tank top, was a surefire vampire attractant of that she had no doubt. She'd chosen the color specifically for that reason, knowing that vampires had an instinctive draw to the color red and she'd chosen the fabric for the sexy way that it clung to her ample curves counting on the assumption that one certain vampire also had an instinctive draw to well-proportioned female figures.

She was annoyed that her plans for Operation Reclaim Angel had been derailed, particularly since the obstinate man had been so damn good at avoiding her this last week. But, she sighed heavily, hanging her new outfit on the hook on the back of the door, after tonight things would surely be different.  Angel, the poor lamb, was sure to be in need of some serious consoling and she planned to be there dressed and ready should that consolation take on a more intimate and physical form.

She checked the clock again, noting with satisfaction that the Saubhadra demons that she'd spent the last few days tracking down should have already reached Sunnyhell by now along with the others. Saubhadra's were known for being particularly evil and vicious, not to mention brutally strong, and excellent fighters. They weren't known to be the brightest of demons, but that was simply a bonus as far as the seer was concerned. They the only drawback was that they moved excessively slowly, their great bulk not conducive to anything faster than a slow trot.

Once more she congratulated herself on such a brilliant plan. Not that she particularly believed Buffy to be an obstacle for her in getting Angel back, but it never hurt to smooth out any possible bumps in the road. And with this plan she would also take away Angel's other emotional attachment freeing him to focus exclusively on her, er, them.

With her visionary powers, it had only taken her a matter of days to track down the most ostensibly dangerous demons and vampires in Los Angeles and, with sufficient encouragement, which happened to come in the form of a large cash reward stolen from Angel and the offices of Angel Investigations, Cordelia sent them off to Sunnydale for the World's first "Slayer Elimination" tournament.

She had Connor hand deliver them each an invitation containing an elaborately fabricated tale about an imbalance in the powers of good and evil, and how it was necessary to eliminate the current Slayer who had lived too many years beyond her allotted time (not to mentioned had cheated death at least twice too often).  The instructions also gave the logistics for the competition, along with the stated requirement that proof of death must be provided before the cash prize would be paid out. As an addendum, Cordelia included a summary of every weakness she had been able to ascertain or remember about the Slayer, much of it knowledge that she'd retained from her days as a higher being when she saw more than she'd imagined about the chosen warriors for the Powers: Buffy and Angel/Angelus. 

At the sound of the door opening next door, Cordelia raced across her room then stopped suddenly as if she had been planning on going out anyway and calmly opened her door, as if coincidentally leaving her room the same time as Angel was leaving his. She schooled her features into a sad but somewhat surprised expression and glanced up, expecting to see her vampire ex. Instead, she came face to face with Lorne.

"Lorne?" Cordelia groused in surprised frustration, dropping her false pretense of a chance meeting in the hallway.

"Yes, sweetie."  The Host replied, still feeling somewhat shell-shocked by his earlier set-to by Angel.

"I was hoping-" The seer spoke softly, instantly altering her countenance to best suit her purpose. Using every ounce of acting ability she possessed to appear hurt and disappointed, she continued, "Well, I was hoping you were Angel. I've been trying to see him. You know, to find out what went wrong, why he's upset with me but he just seems to be avoiding me."

Lorne looked at Cordelia, really looked at her for the first time in years. He peered at her intensely, attempting to read her. The brief glimpse of her aura that he could make out was a mottled mix of gray, brown and the mustard yellow color of sulfur all streaked with red. He pressed his lips together slightly in fear and worry.  Those colors were clear indicators of the presence of a darker power mixed with a whole lot of negative energy and rage. He felt a small shudder of something akin to fear pass through him.

"Lorne. LORNE." The dyed blonde repeated, unable to completely mask the irritation in her voice. "Hello? I'm talking here."

"Oh, sorry sweetie. Lost in thought there for a minute." The green demon cleared his throat, shifting slightly on his feet and gazing at her speculatively.

"Where is Angel anyway?" She asked, glancing past Lorne to Angel's door. It was important that she be close at hand when Angel got the news about Buffy's soon-to-come demise.  The winning group of demons had been instructed to call the hotel, ask for Angelus and taunt him about her death. Within a week they needed to then provide proof and then their monies would be paid in full.

"Hum?  Oh, he left a little while ago." Lorne glanced up, seeing Connor coming down the hall toward them with a friendly expression on his face. The young man had been unusually pleasant these last few days and seemingly reconciled to his confinement in the hotel. 

"Left?! Where did he go?" Cordelia gaped, unable to conceal her surprise. She'd been in her room all afternoon - well, except for her brief shopping excursion and trip to the salon to get waxed, buffed and perfectly coiffed in preparation for her planned evening activities.  How was it that she'd not heard him leave?

"I don't know. Out on a case maybe?" Lorne truly didn't know where the vampire had gone when he'd left, but if he had to guess he might say Sunnydale. His ex-girlfriend was clearly much on his mind as of late, and just as clearly he intended that she soon be his ex no longer.

"Lorne? Do you think maybe - you could talk to Angel for me?" Cordelia whispered, glancing furtively at Connor then back at Lorne. "Find out why he's avoiding me?"

"Uh, normally I'd love to help you, creampuff, but no can do." The Host replied, unwilling to risk Angel's anger or friendship by further involving himself in the vampire's personal affairs.

"Hey." Connor said in greeting, stopping in front of them.

At the interruption, Cordelia's features formed an impatient mask.

"Hello and goodbye." Lorne saluted them, grateful for the excuse to exit the conversation before he had to admit that he was simply afraid to risk Angel's ire or friendship. No doubt the seer would accuse him of cowardice but he preferred to think of it as simple self-preservation instincts. "Gotta run. Gotta gig tonight over on the west side and you know how bad traffic can be. Ciao."

"See ya." Connor replied absently, noting Cordelia's tightlipped expression.

The seer didn't respond, instead she turned back to her own room and made to close the door, only to find it blocked by Connor's foot.

"Connor. Move. Your. Foot. " Cordelia demanded impatiently, glancing down at his foot then back at his face.

"Talk to me." Connor pleaded, not understanding her vacillating moods. 

"No. Not now." The dyed blonde said firmly, aggravated to find out that Angel had left the hotel again tonight. She'd followed him discreetly a couple of times this past week watching as he either patrolled the dangerous alleys of LA or he went to magic shops. Why he was so interested in magic, she had no idea. She'd attempted to find out what he was looking for, but she hadn't had any luck there either.

"Why not?  We can be together now, there's no need to hide from anyone." Connor replied, not mentioning his father's name specifically although that was who was clearly implied by 'anyone'.  "This is what we've always wanted. What we've been waiting for."

"No, Connor. This is not what *we* have been waiting for." Cordelia retorted with exasperation. How was it that he was so dense at times?

"But the other day-" Connor interrupted, somewhat bewildered. He had thought that things between them had been resolved. After all, she'd been the one that had come to him.

"The other day was a mistake."  Cordelia replied flatly. She had wanted information about Angel's activities and whereabouts and she needed Connor's compliance with her plan, so she'd sought out Connor in his room. One thing led to the next, and she ended up in bed with him. As far as she was concerned, it'd had been an adequate bribe and little more than a pity fuck but ever since the young man seemed to be of the impression that she considered them 'back together'. She scoffed slightly. The real irony was that most of it had been for naught - Angel may have spent some time with Connor in the last week, but he certainly hadn't confided any of his plans in his son.

"What do you mean, a mistake?" Connor stared at her face, his words a harsh whisper. Every time he opened his heart to her, she trampled on it.

"Look, baby. You know I still care about you. A lot." Cordelia soothed, brushing Connor's hair back away from his face. "But, you know we can't. We aren't meant to be. I love Angel."

"But the other day- You said, you said - that breaking things off had been a mistake." He ground out the words with a grim smile, his brown eyes locked on hers.

"Look, Connor - " The dyed blonde brusquely interjected, crossing her hands over her chest and tossing her hair.

"Do you love me or not?  Tell me!!" Connor shouted, angry, hurt and more than a little bewildered. How could she treat him so callously? How could they share what they had shared and she still be so cold to him?

"No, Connor. I don't. I need Angel back." Cordelia drawled softly, watching the expression on her young lover's face turned from bewilderment to hurt to rage.

"You lying bitch." He spat in a heated rush of temper, stepping toward her and clenching his fist.

"Connor - " The seer replied warningly, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Shut up. Just shut the fuck up!" Connor shouted, glaring at her insolently. "You whore. You lying whore! How can you fuck me if you love *him*? How?!"

"Don't you dare talk to me that way!" She shrieked, stepping forward and shoving hard at his shoulder, knocking him off balance and back a step.

"Don't touch me."  He jerked away from her, as if disgusted by her touch. In a low threatening voice, he added, "I'm going to tell him everything."

Slowly advancing toward Connor, Cordelia wore an expression of such black fury that the young man nearly flinched from the expected blow. As a demon, she'd grown quite strong and powerful, and he'd been the recipient of her physical prowess a time or two in the past.

She hissed through clenched teeth, her voice the barest of whispers, "Don't you dare, you little shit! I'll make sure you return to Quor-toth!"

"No you won't. My dad won't let you!" Connor sharply retorted, acutely disturbed by her threat. He'd told her that he still had nightmares about his time there.

"Your *dad*," Cordelia said, her voice softly vicious, her eyes an unrelenting and angry chill, "won't be able to stop me. You'll just disappear one day and he'll think you ran off. Besides, Connor, *you* delivered those letters. Your *dad* is going to think you're trying to kill his ex - *again*. Think he won't believe that?"

"You bitch. What did you do?!" Connor shrieked, a cold shock of fear washing over him as he cursed his own stupid naiveté. She'd drawn him in and used him so easily for her bidding and he'd hadn't once stopped to question her.

"Just taking care of things, baby, just like I always do." The seer replied smugly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I - well, *you* promised a few nasty demons some money to take care of the little Sunnydale freak of nature. Daddy is not going to be pleased when he finds out."

"We'll see who he believes." Connor turned abruptly and stalked off in frustration. She was very likely right - Angel had no reason to trust him or believe that he wouldn't leave on his own. And now - god, what had she done? She'd told him that the letters were nothing more than collection letters, but he should have known better. Would his father believe him if he went to him now and said he hadn't known? Or would Angel believe that anyone could be that gullible?

Cordelia pressed her lips together tightly in anger, her eyes boring into Connor's back. When he disappeared at the end of the hall, she muttered a curse and slammed the door to her room.

"Cordelia."

"Fuck!" The blonde seer whirled around in surprise, clutching one hand to her now rapidly beating heart. "Skip. God. You nearly scared me to death. What the hell are you doing here?"

She stepped forward, rubbing her hand over her face as she calmed slightly from the brief scare. She had no idea that anyone else had been in the room and suddenly she wondered how long he had been there.

"You are no longer allied with your champion." The demon guide stated softly, his words not a question but a statement of fact.

Cordelia's eyes widened and she slowly expelled a breath. She thought she would have had more time before they found out.  Adamantly she contended,  "It's only temporary, Skip. I swear."

"The dark forces within you are growing strong again." Skip had yet to move from his spot, watching her with disappointment clearly on his face and sadness in his eyes.

"No. They aren't." She vehemently protested, walking toward him and holding her hand out in supplication. " They really aren't."

"Cordelia." The demon guide scolded gently, sighing deeply.  "I know better. You can't lie to me."

"But-" The seer pouted slightly, her perfect white teeth chewing at her lower lip. Skip had a soft spot for her she knew, and she knew how to work her innocent act to take full advantage of his feelings.

"You know I can't keep this from the Powers much longer." Skip firmly told her, unwilling and unable to turn a blind eye to her increasingly horrible antics much longer.

"I promise. After tonight - it'll be fine. Angel and I - we'll be back together, working together. And I promise - no more hiding of visions. I'll tell him about all of them no matter what. And I'll do good, I swear. I'll help starving children and homeless people. And puppies! I'll adopt puppies. Please Skip."  Cordelia insisted as her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled. She wiped at the tears on her cheeks as they began to fall.

Skip sighed. The darker side of her demonic nature was indeed growing stronger, finding a seemingly unlimited array of dishonest, immoral or devious personality traits within her from which to draw energy and strengthen it's possession. By their very nature, demons took on the characteristics of their hosts. Only those with pure hearts, conscience souls or an incredible strength of character were able to keep their demon from completely taking them over. With Cordelia, her selfish and ungrateful nature had proved time and again to be her dominant characteristic, gradually allow her darker nature to take over.  In fact, her nature had been the very thing that had gotten her expelled from the higher dimension. She had proven herself unworthy of the honor that had been bestowed upon her and had been sent back to atone for the many and varied ways in which she'd readily displayed her true disposition. The Powers had allowed her to return to this dimension only because she could be allied with their chosen warrior and he could show her the path to redemption.

"I'll do what I can." Skip relented, unable to promise more. Even now, he knew he was testing the limits of the Power's patience.  He admittedly had a soft spot for the former brunette beauty and had covered for her mistakes and her selfish behavior several times in the past, but now the Powers were threatening to punish them both. He certainly cared about her, but he was unwilling to suffer the wrath of the Powers for her unnecessarily. 

He'd stall a bit longer and she if she could straighten things out as she did last time. Barring that, there simply wasn't much else that he could do.

Angelus dusted off his hands and wiped the blood out of his eye. The 3 demons and 3 vampires had been more than adequate exercise, allowing him to vent his rage and reassure himself that he still was as powerful and ruthless as he had ever believed. His souled half hadn't completely ruined him - yet.  Now he was intent on more important tasks.

Her lights were off as he walked past by her condo and he guessed given the time of the night that she was most likely out on patrol. He moved in the direction of her scent, his dark figure blending easily into the shadows of the night.

His senses picked up the demons even before he saw the overly large, grayish rhinoceros looking demon sprawled on the ground, his eyes open and staring upward in death. Picking up his pace, he made his way through the brush into the vacant lot just beyond the edge of an industrial building.

Buffy was fighting another of the mountainous creatures, her moves lithe and graceful, the beast slow but strong. When she glanced over in alarm to assess the approaching newcomer, the demon managed to strike her hard across the face and send her flying toward him. 

She slammed into Angelus with powerful force and they both went tumbling into the damp brush.  Buffy landed on top, panting heavily.  The axe Angelus had been carrying clattered to the ground. The Saubhadra demon roared in anger but turned and fled from the small clearing.

Buffy stared down at Angel in stunned surprised. It was almost unreal to find, right here beneath her, the object of her fantasies of the last few nights, in the flesh and between her thighs.

Angelus stared up at her face, shifting slightly and allowing her legs to drop on either side of his hips, enjoying the soft pant of her breath against his cheek, the heat of elevated body temperature pressed against his chest all due to the physical exertions of the fight.

Without a thought and without a word, driven by the sexual needs that he had awakened in her days ago and coupled with the general exultant and heightened sex drive that often came with slaying, Buffy leaned down and pressed her lips to his.

Angelus paused, unable for a moment to react. This was not the greeting he had expected, but it would most certainly do.

Buffy wound one arm around his neck as she slipped lower, pressing the warm heat between her legs firmly against his stomach as her thighs clutched his waist.

Angelus began returning her kisses with an eager urgency, unwilling to deny himself the pleasure of her kisses or any other part of her after he'd been denied for so long.

"That was." Buffy mumbled, lifting her head after a pleasantly long interval, only to return to his lips once more. After another heated interval of kisses, she continued in a soft breathy whisper. ".rude."

"Yes." Angelus muttered in reply, one arm encircling her back and holding her close, the other tugging on a tendril of her hair that was hanging down near his face pulling her lips back to his when they lifted the smallest fraction.

"We should." Buffy nipped his lips with her own, sucking his bottom lip greedily between her teeth and raking it with her teeth. She released it and murmured softly, ".go." almost at the same time her tongue traced his lips and slipped into his mouth. She kissed him eagerly, delighting in the faint cinnamon and spicy taste that was pure Angel. Lifting her lips slightly to change the slant of her head, another soft murmur escaped her lips ".and." His tongue curled around hers, luring it deeply into his mouth with an erotic caress. When she pulled pack slightly to take a breath, she finally finished her sentence. ".kill it."

"Mmm. yes." Angelus replied distractedly as he slid one large hand into her hair, pulling out the cloth band holding her hair and loosening her ponytail as he tugged her lips firmly back to his, taking her mouth in a ravenous kiss. His tongue dueled with hers for dominance for a long moment before she relented and let him have his way. He explored her mouth to his satisfaction before finally releasing his hold on her hair and allowing her to pull back for a breath. ".we should." 

"Um-hum." Buffy agreed, pressing her lips to his once again. After another few minutes of heated kisses, she reluctantly pulled back and forced her mind back to her work.

She studied Angel's face in the moonlight. Her memory of him paled in comparison to the real thing. There was no doubt of his incredibly beauty, the classic bone structure or the dark, sensual eyes. What she hadn't captured in memory was the touch of wildness that existed in their dark depths, a wildness that lured and enticed, promising wicked delights.  His physical perfection at such close range struck her powerfully, reducing the world around her to inconsequential details while her focus was singularly on him.

She was quite spectacular, Angelus thought with a connoisseur's eye, her mass of golden hair rich and glowing so that it seemed alive. Her face was dominated by her large hazel-green eyes, her golden skin sun kissed from time she spent out doors. Less now than when she was younger, but enough to still make him feel as if she were the warmth of the sun that he had long forgotten.

"Well, lover, that was certainly a nice greeting." Angelus silkily whispered, breaking the long silence. He moved beneath her slightly, enjoying the feel of her pressed so intimately against him.

Buffy peered down at him in the dark, her gaze narrowing speculatively. She made no move to leave her position perched on his mid-section, which was perfectly fine with Angelus. Twenty seconds ticked before Buffy thumped him hard on the chest with her fist, her dainty eyebrows lifting sardonically. "Thought you couldn't lose your soul, Angelus."

"Didn't lose it. Soul-boy is just. slumbering for awhile." Angelus replied with a smirk, his hands running along her thighs to her hips. He adjusted her slightly so that she sat firmly on the ridge of his growing erection.

"Humpf."  Buffy pushed hard against his chest and came to her feet standing next to him. She fixed her hair, adjusting the band to restore her ponytail to its position high on the back of her head.

"And just how did that happen?" She questioned almost distractedly as she turned away, searching for any tracks that the fleeing demon might have left.

"Doximall. Ecstasy." Angelus grudgingly answered as he stood. He was uncertain he wanted to give away the reason for his return.

"Oh." Buffy turned and looked at him with an expression of surprise mixed with a touch of disappointment. Angel did drugs? That was certainly new.

Angelus laughed at the obvious displeasure on her face, "Now, now Buff. Before you start your "just say no to drugs" lecture, soul-boy didn't know the delicious blood cocktail was laced. Willie's serving up new specials these days."

"Oh." She replied, somewhat relieved although in truth she hadn't really suspected anything sordid knowing Angel. But then again, you don't know him. Not anymore.

"Doesn't have to change anything. you might have had in mind." Angelus hinted with a leer, stepping close to her.  Apparently idiot soul-boy was doing something right to get a greeting like that.  Although, he thought, his lips pressing together in annoyance, his mark was truly gone. And her scent - it was similar in many ways and yet different from what he remembered. She no longer smelled like *his* woman. And that bothered him too.

"You coming or staying?" Buffy's question broke his thoughts as she moved off in the direction that the demon had gone. She sighed. Angelus was certainly a consideration tonight as well. She couldn't very well leave him alone to ravage Sunnydale as he was likely to do. Hmm. But perhaps he could ravage, oh, someone like say, me. She sighed again. Her libido was dangerously out of check. Down, Buffy. She chastised herself. This is Angelus, not Angel.

"Both Buff." Angelus replied with a wicked grin, retrieving the axe he had been carrying and falling in step next to her.

Buffy only shot him an impatient look before continuing in the direction of the large hoof prints. They pushed through the through the thick brush and set off in the direction that the demon had taken.

"Saubhadra." Angelus stated after they had gone only a few feet.

"Saab-what tra?" Buffy questioned, whispering in case the creature was nearby. She was unfamiliar with the neanderthal looking beasts. When she came across a demon she didn't recognize she usually just described them to Willow who then looked them up and gave her a name to put in her journal.

"Saudhadras. Vicious. Brutal fighters."  A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. Another strike against Connor for soliciting such brutal creatures to participate in his little game. Was that two or three now against the little whelp? Maybe he could manage to convince his lame souled half to have another of those delicious 'Blood-E' concoctions before confronting his ungrateful offspring.

"They've got nothing on a Turok-han." Buffy sniffed with disdain, pointing to the path on the right. She glanced over at him as she spoke, noticing how his charcoal sweater hugged his sculpted chest; his hair was mussed just so. making him look so sinfully delicious in the moonlight. Angelus would need to be watched tonight as well, she mused. Yes, and that would be easy to do if I were to take him home. And maybe chain him up. Maybe to the bed. Ooh, and naked. Chained and naked he'd be much easier to watch. To control. To lick... The wicked little voice inside her head offered up a few more choice ideas, making Buffy's cheeks flush slightly at her own lascivious thoughts.

"A Turok-han?" Angelus questioned sharply, his mind turning over in a panic. How could she have faced a Turok-Han and he hadn't known?  He didn't even realize that the ancient, primordial, ferociously strong vampires even still existed.  Of course, even if he had known about them, likely soul-boy would have avoided them; they were the vampires that even vampires tended to fear. Not Angelus though, with his calm unruffled arrogance and boundless confidence. He'd willing dance with the devil himself without a touch of fear. "I thought they were myth."

"Nah. You can find them around. Hellmouth special of course." Almost against her will she smiled up at him slightly, her mind half preoccupied now with wondering how one goes about making the first move in asking someone if they'd be interested in quick no strings attached fuck. Or maybe not so quick. And maybe more than one..

"What are you doing here anyway?" Buffy asked, as if his uncommon appearance in Sunnydale had just occurred to her.

"Why do you think, Buff? I came to see you of course." Angelus answered, his words soft and low, almost a purr. It wasn't exactly a lie. Angel had come to see her.  Though, he found no need to tell her about the 'Slayer Elimination' tournament he'd disrupted. He doubted that she'd be grateful and he certainly didn't want to disrupt the relatively agreeable mood she seemed to be in.

"What happened to your face?" She gestured to the cut on his brow, the slight bruise on his cheek. For a breath-held moment she worried that Angelus had already been up to his old tricks.

"Just a demon or two that got in my way. Nothing . human." He glanced at her with an amused expression. "Worried, lover?"

"Well, you're not exactly trustworthy." She grumbled, shooting him a look of annoyance out of the corner of her eye.

They walked in silence for another ten minutes before they encountered the slightly injured demon. They might be big and vicious fighters but they lacked stamina making them relatively easy to catch. Together they made short work of the creature, Angelus watching Buffy with something akin to awe. There was no doubt that her fighting skills were nearly perfect; her physical form much, much better than perfect in his estimation.  His lust for her raged, particularly with the delicious smell of her blood in the air from the cut on her cheek, her slightly bruised and split lip.

After the demon dropped to the ground, Buffy stopped in front of Angelus. "So, uh."

Angelus yanked her forward into his arms, leaning down to lap at the drop of blood on her lip. The sweet rich taste was intoxicating and powerful and he groaned slightly with the heady pleasure. He then lowered his mouth firmly to hers, taking her lips in a demanding kiss as if he were starved for the taste of her. His arms encircled her waist, bending her back slightly as he devoured her mouth.

When Buffy broke off the kiss for air, Angelus shifted his attention to her neck, raining the soft flesh with kisses and licks and tiny bites. As last time she had been in his arms - well, Angel's arms - she fought for composure, her wits spiraling out of control while the heated flame of desire began to burn. She was nearly crushed into his body, her breasts pressed firmly into the hard wall of his chest, one of his thighs pressing firmly between her legs.

Needing a moment to gather her thoughts without the feel of him befuddling her mind, Buffy shoved hard against him sending him staggering back a step.

"Is there a problem lover?" Angelus asked, his voice soft, seductive. There wasn't a chance that he was going to be denied tonight, the question was would she be willing or not? No, he mentally revised. She was willing. More than willing.  The question was whether she'd give in to her desires or continue to hold to some silly moral high ground.

As her gaze swept over his tall lean form beginning at his feet, taking in the long legs, the narrow hips and waist, the increased width of his shoulders to the stark masculine beauty of his face, her pulse rate sped up just a bit and she clenched her legs together making the smallest attempt to quell the beginning ache of desire.

So, she was physically attracted to him. That was never a question.

She prided herself on her independence now, on the fact that she made the choices that she wanted for her own reasons.

And hadn't she spent the last few days rationalizing the idea of sex with Angel as just sex? A rare not-to-be missed second chance to experience the carnal delights that he could offer? Particularly with the added bonus that she could enjoy all of that expertise without the slightest bit of emotional turmoil and heartbreaking pain that accompanied so many of her Angel-y encounters?

Buffy licked her lips, tasting him still. Angel might have been less inclined for a purely physical encounter but she doubted that Angelus would object. In fact, this could very well be a blessing in disguise. As an additional small measure of relief, she mentally noted that her last period had ended just 3 days ago. No worries there.

The mild heat swirling through her body inched up another degree.

"Let's get something straight." Her gaze was clear and direct, her green eyes resplendent with the heated fires of passion that had been suppressed and ignored for much too long.

"Yes?" His dark gaze was bland, faintly mocking. He easily detected the increased scent of her arousal as she stood there staring at him, the shifting of her position and clenching of those oh-so-gorgeous legs.

"If-if we do this-"

"Fuck, you mean?" He stepped toward her, his moves like the graceful predator that he was, his gaze insolent.

"Yes, that. If we *fuck*." Buffy replied brusquely, as if they were simply negotiating a business contract. "there will be no biting."  It was a compromise of sorts with her warring thoughts over having sex with the demon instead of Angel yet she wasn't even sure why she felt that particular demand was the necessary distinction.

Angelus contemplated her for a moment. He had never bitten her during their few sexual encounters, although the desire to do so had been strong. Perhaps given the sheer depth of his uncontrollable obsession for her, it had been because he was never sure that he would have been able to stop himself from draining her. And he hadn't been ready to turn her.

"I can't promise no *biting*, lover." Angelus murmured, conceding to her stipulation as he approached, walking around her in a slow circle, his eyes drifting over her lazily as if vetting her for his interest. "But I won't feed."

"Let me make this very clear, *Angelus*," Buffy coolly declared, her gaze once more roamed down his body to settle on his obvious arousal. "No biting with fangs."

"You're sure?" He questioned with a leer stopping in front of her.

"Yes." Buffy replied unequivocally, her hand grazing the bulge between his legs and watching as the rigid erection seemed to grow inches in length at her light touch. 

"Then, Buff,  I suggest you decide *where* or you're going to find yourself backed up against that tree over there and fucked standing up."

Buffy's breath caught at his blunt words, the image highly provocative and increasing the throbbing between her legs.

"I think here." She murmured softly, glancing around at the grassy clearing. They had already moved quite a ways away from the dead Saubhaudra demon, and were in a pleasant clearing surrounding by crickets chirping and the scent of night blooming jasmine wafting through the air. It was almost. idyllic. "The first time."

The implication of her words 'the first time' sent an added rush of wicked anticipation through his senses. He was more than willing to oblige her, however often she wanted it.  In one more minute, however, if she continued the deft manipulations of his already hard cock she was going to find herself flat on her back with him buried deep between her thighs.

Teasingly, her eyes locked on his, Buffy stepped back and slipped her jacket down over her arms, dropping it to the ground behind her. She removed the band from the ponytail holding her hair and shook her head slightly, allowing the golden mass to fall over her shoulders and down her back.

Angelus licked his lips, stifling a moan at her provocative display. She'd never played the seductive vixen for him before - the sight had him mesmerized and immobile.

She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on her jacket. Next she kicked off her boots and socks. With a coy expression, she unzipped her pants before turning her back on him.

A small heated silence ensued as he watched her, both of them struggling to control the ungovernable desire assailing them.

He drank in the sight of her firm back and trim hips, her hair brushing along the smooth flesh. He groaned as he thought of the feel of her hair on his body, stroking across him with unintentional feather light caresses.

At the low sound from him she cast a glance over her shoulder. She smiled, noting the pained expression on his face while his hand unconsciously stroked his erection through his pants. It was a heady sensation to think that she had so thoroughly captivated the attention of such an experienced and profligate creature as Angelus. She unfastened her bra and dropped it with exaggerated slowness off to the side. Her pulse rate sped up just a bit more as she shimmed out of her pants, bending slightly and arching her back to flaunt the curve of her behind.

She heard rather than saw him growl and yank off his belt, nearly ripping his pants in haste to get them open.

The grass was cool on her back, even through thick mohair of his long coat as he lifted her and laid her down on it in almost one swift move. She had only a moment to take his consideration for her comfort into account before he was kneeling between her legs, his hands easing her thighs apart.

He ripped her panties from her without hesitation, glancing briefly at her face when he heard the small gasp that escaped her lips.

"Hurry." She breathed softly in plea, her eyes half closed as she regarded him covetously. His large body was blocking the moonlight overhead, leaving her shadowed in darkness. She could find no explanation for the feverish lust she felt. No one else had ever made her feel such mindless desire, not Spike, not Riley, not Robin. It was as if he possessed some hold over her, some potent allure, or perhaps some type of vampiric thrall.

But then again she thought with a small smile, Angel had more than just bewitching allure, her eyes taking in the enormity of his rampant erection as he slid his pants down his hips out of the way. He had physical attributes that most men would envy and most women would crave. She ached to feel him inside her. It had definitely been too long, much, much too long.

Her soft demand jolted his body and he plunged into her with any additional preliminaries or care, fraught with his own impassioned need for her. She clutched at his shoulders as her hips rose to meet him, the heat surrounding his shaft as her flesh yielded to his invasion nearly scalding him. She was so hot, so damned wet that he was able to sink into her so deeply on the first stroke that he felt the mouth of her womb. She whimpered slightly at the combined pleasure and pain and he glanced up at her face, terrified for one second that he'd hurt her. She was so small, so tight, so fucking hot.

But she only sighed with blissful delight and encouraged him to move, arching against him in a natural age-old rhythm. Impatient and needy she forced the pace when Angelus would have slowed, the strength of her legs aiding her in drawing him deeply and preventing his withdrawal until she was ready again to release him.

Angelus rocked against her, putting pressure on the most delicate of pleasure points as his way of protesting her attempt to control him. There was no question of his sexual accomplishments or expertise, his 200 plus years of experience giving him the advantage in knowing all the subtleties of pleasing her, all the pleasure points and sensations that could easily be called into use.

She keened softly as the rapturous satisfaction washed over her, his weight grinding hard into the sensitive nub of her clit as he pressed her into the cold, hard earth beneath them. "Fuck." He whispered, holding himself firmly inside her as the rippling waves of her climax surrounded his cock and bathed him with shimmering ecstasy. He pressed forward an infinitesimal distance and then gloated in satisfaction as she screamed, panting hard beneath him and convulsing with pleasure yet again.

Her every little panting breath and whimpering cry seemed to vibrate through every nerve in his body. He was attuned to her in a way that he had never felt with anyone else; not Darla, not Druscilla and certainly not that cheap, shallow whore that had been occupying space in soul-boy's bed for the last few years. The astonishing pleasure of Buffy's body was unique in his much-explored sexual universe.

Incapable of restraint, they moved against each other in a feverish, pounding rhythm, exploring the extent of their physical need for each other in an avaricious, famished frenzy.

He was better than she remembered, longer, bigger, stronger.. the fleeting thought crossed her mind only to be interrupted by his next powerful down stroke. Any further consideration of his delectable attributes was lost to the next tidal wave of glorious sensation, the powerful pull of orgasm sweeping over her once again.

Just after the peak of sensation subsided and her shudders of pleasure calmed, he pulled out of her and flipped her over onto her stomach, lifting her hips almost violently to bring her to her knees and then slamming back inside her.  His hands restlessly explored her body, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples, alternating between delicate tweaks and near painful pressure. In response, she ground her bottom hard into his groin, rocking her hips with unrestrained intensity. One large hand swept over her abdomen and between her legs, finding the sensitive nub of her clit and flicking it with his finger in time with his thrusts.

When the next explosive climax finally broke, he joined her, the shocking rapturous sensation washing over them both, burning through their bodies in wild agonizing convulsions before they collapsed heavily on to the soft darkness of his coat, face-first.

For a long moment she didn't move, content to lie beneath him despite the crushing pressure of his heavy weight. She savored the abating waves of pleasure radiating through her senses.

After another few minutes she wiggled and he obligingly rolled off. Patting him lightly on the hip, she murmured, "Hmmm. that was great."  She stretched slightly and glanced around for her clothes. 

Angelus looked up from his reclining position next to her, his gaze speculative. Her seemingly casual attitude annoyed him.

"My place now?" She questioned, fastening her bra. "If you want." She amended with a small smile, taking note of his sudden rigidity and disgruntled expression.

"We can both get naked and try out my bed." Buffy shook out her jeans and stood, pulling them on glancing over at him as she zipped them up.  He was still fully dressed, although his pants were still unfastened giving her a rather licentious and titillating thrill.

He grunted softly, an almost inaudible sound.  But within seconds he was on his feet and following her.

 

 

 

Part VII

 

Angelus glanced down at Buffy as she searched her bag for her keys to the front door. Neither of them had spoken on the ten-minute walk back to her condo, Angelus moody and restive, Buffy pleasantly sated and happily content with her earlier decision to indulge in a little sexual gratification.

As they stood on her porch the quiet of the night surrounded them, the hum of crickets chirping broken only by the sound of a dog barking nearby. A kind of palpable tension hung in the air as Angelus struggled with his conflicting urges. How often had she done this before? And with who?

Buffy glanced up at him, taking in the shuttered, churlish expression, the dark, angry eyes and rigid posture. "You don't have to do this, you know. But I'm not going to let you run amok in Sunnydale, *Angelus*."

"Do what Buff?"  His brow lifted fractionally. He stepped forward, pinning her easily against the door with the heavy weight of his body. He nuzzled her hair as he leaned into her, the rigid length of his arousal hard against her stomach. No matter his sense of mental or emotional discord, he wanted her. That was never in doubt. "Fuck you again?"

She glanced up at his face with a gaze could only be described as wicked. Her lips curved into a small smile as she writhed almost imperceptibly against him, reveling in the weight of his hard body pressed to hers. Her small pink tongue darted out to wet her lips as her eyes drifted from his intense stare to his lips. "Yes." She answered him in a husky whisper, tilting her head back as her eyes closed in anticipation of his kiss.

Angelus needed no further invitation. He rested his palms on the door one on either side of her head, leaning down to press his lips to hers in a hard, punishing kiss. Her insouciance stirred his anger, his need for possessive ownership.

Buffy's hand snaked up his chest to the back of his head, clutching the nape of his neck and pulling him closer as her mouth opened to his probing assault. She moaned softly into his mouth as he deepened the kiss.

"Er-ah-hem."

Angelus lifted his head and whirled around with a scowl at the soft sound of coughing behind him. The sight that greeted him was so completed unexpected that he blinked twice in surprise. A small ram-rod straight elderly woman with lively blue eyes wearing a fuzzy pink robe decorated with cats and matching furry slippers stood just a few feet away from them, clutching her robe together with one hand and a heavy cast-iron skillet in the other. Her soft gray curls bobbed as she trembled slightly, either in fear or from the exertion of simply holding up the heavy pan.

Buffy perched on her toes and peeked over Angelus's shoulder curiously. Her eyes widened in surprise to see her neighbor out and about at this time of night.  She blushed slightly, a little embarrassed to have been caught kissing on her front step like a randy teenager.  "Hi Betty."

"Buffy." Betty glanced warily at Angelus, leery of the tall glowering stranger possibly accosting the tiny and darling girl that lived next door. "Are you okay sweetie?" She asked bluntly, albeit with a tiny quaver of fear in her voice. Her stance was still slightly challenging, her arm cocked as if she were prepared to swing her iron weapon of choice at any moment.

Buffy saw the black scowl on Angelus's face and plunged a small fist into his ribs. He grunted and turned the scowl on her. Without looking at his face, she smiled over his shoulder at the elderly woman who had thought to come to her rescue with a skillet.

"I'm fine." Buffy replied apologetically, wondering now if Betty had seen more of her comings and goings late at night than she'd previously thought. "I'm sorry. I hope we didn't wake you."

"No, honey, you didn't. It was the Yaeger's damn puppy again." Betty's eyes shifted back to Angelus, surveying him now with a casual interest that belied her years. Slowly her arm holding the heavy pan lowered. "He's been barking for hours now. Guess they must be out again."

"Oh."  Noting Betty's interest in her companion, Buffy mentally chastised herself for her lack of manners. "Betty, this is Angel." Glancing up at his face, her brows lifting slightly in challenge as she emphasized the last syllable of his name, Buffy continued, "Angel, this is Betty, my neighbor."

Angelus glanced down at Buffy with mild admonition. She'd owe him for this. He would make sure that she say *his* name properly - several times, loudly and soon. Buffy's elbow jabbed him in the ribs, disrupting the turn of his thoughts and prompting him to speak.

"Hello. Nice to meet you." Angelus smoothly replied, shifting his attention back to Buffy's neighbor as he reached for the woman's hand, kissing the back of it lightly and smiling his most charming smile at her.

At Buffy's introduction and obvious familiarity with the tall and rather good-looking stranger, Betty's wariness gradually began to be replaced with mild appreciation, her lips curving slightly into a coquettish smile and her eyes gleaming sportively.

Buffy suppressed a chuckle at Betty's expression. No doubt Angel, er, Angelus was rather used to the rather obvious and interested reactions he received from women - of all ages - for his stunning good looks and obvious sexual magnetism. Betty was clearly not immune to the charm that he exuded so easily.

"Yes, well, it's about time I meet the man that's been sending little Miss Buffy here all those beautiful flowers." Betty replied with a smile and a wink. "Course I can see now why she might want to keep you all to herself."

"You caught me." Angelus grinned teasingly, reaching for Buffy's hand and squeezing it before raising it to his lips. "Took me weeks and dozens of flowers before she'd even talk to me."

Buffy glanced sideways at him - his eyes meeting hers roguishly for a fleeting second.  The grip on her fingers tightened when she tugged so she relented rather than make a scene. She shrugged slightly and smiled modestly at Betty, as if she were somewhat embarrassed by his elaborate recitation.

"Uh-huh." Betty skeptically replied, arching one eyebrow in appraisal as her eyes swept up and down his tall form again. "I'll just bet."

"Course had I known there was such a beauty as yourself in the neighborhood."

Buffy rolled her eyes slightly at Angelus's flirty banter with Betty, extracted her hand from his grip and resumed her search for the condo key. She only half listened to their conversation, surprised that Angelus hadn't simply dismissed the woman with a cruel retort.

Finally finding the key at the bottom of her bag, buried under a jumble of stakes and a couple of small bottles of holy water, Buffy looked up at her neighbor, now smiling like a star-struck schoolgirl. With a small smile, Buffy interrupted "Well, Betty, don't let us keep you." And then turned to insert the key into the lock.

"Oh dear." Betty murmured as the iron skillet she held in her hand clattered loudly to the ground.

Casting a directive out of the corner of her eye at Angelus to help the elderly woman out, Buffy jiggled the stuck key in the lock. Murmuring a small curse under his breath, Angelus stepped forward and bent over to pick up the pan. When he felt the firm pat followed by a slight cupping grip on his behind, he was completely taken off guard. His head jerked up and he spun around to stare at the perpetrator, bumping into Buffy who stood behind him, nearly knocking her into the door.

Betty only giggled and reached her hand out for the pan. Her eyes dropped to his crotch then drifted back to his face. Her smiled deepened. The hand clutching her robe together dropped, and the material gaped open to reveal a silky thin nightgown beneath.

"Angelus, watch out." Buffy said irritably as she stumbled, casting him a quick look out of the corner of her eye before returning her attention to the key and door lock. She was completely unaware of the double entendre of her warning.

With a leer and a smile, Betty leaned forward and brushed his hand with her now free one. Her robe gaped open more giving him an unobstructed view of her rounded and slightly sagging breasts. He attempted to step back but he was trapped between Buffy and the now advancing elderly woman, her eyes raking him suggestively as her hand reached for his.

Buffy looked up at in puzzlement at Angelus as he quickly stepped around her and knocked her hands away from the door lock. In one rapid move, he got the stubborn key to turn and pushed open the door.  Her brow furrowed even more so as she noted the startled look on his face.  She cast a quick look at Betty only to see the woman standing demurely nearby, her hand once more clutching her robe together, a slight smile on her face. She glanced back at Angelus and shook her head slightly.

"Well, good night Betty." Buffy said over her shoulder, picking up her bag from where she had sat it next to her feet. She pushed open the door further and flicked on the light switch.

Angelus nodded once hesitantly, somewhat indignant that the little gray haired woman had just dared to pat his butt. It was unthinkable. He could only stare back at her in astonishment.

"Night dear. Night Angel. Very nice to meet you." Betty winked lustily at Angelus as she turned back in the direction of her own condo. With an almost envious sigh she concluded. "Have fun."

"It's a little unusual to see Betty out this late." Buffy commented as she dropped her bag just inside the door and then peeled off her coat. She closed the door firmly behind them, twisting the lock.

"To say the least." Angelus muttered, still somewhat disconcerted by the overt advances of the elderly lady. Of course, it's not as if he hadn't been propositioned plenty of times before.

Buffy shifted her attention to her guest, smiling playfully at Angelus as she reached up and pushed his coat down his arms. He helped her ease it off and then tossed it casually on the couch before turning back to face her, dismissing disturbing visions of her neighbor from his mind. 

After a brief pause, Buffy took both his hands in hers and began walking backward, leading him down the hall. When they reached her bedroom, she released one of his hands for just a second while she turned on the small lamp, then she tugged him into the center of the room.  She reached for the hem on his shirt, a mischievous grin on her face as she noticed his hesitation. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you." She promised impudently, her tone lowering suggestively as she added, "much."

Angelus stood completely still while she tugged the sweater over his head, the depths of his eyes flickering furiously with golden highlights as ungovernable territorial prerogatives regarding her availability and behavior surged with renewed force. Her casual demeanor bothered him, yet her confident assertiveness was something he had never before experienced; it was propelling his lust to dangerous heights.

She tossed his sweater aside and turned her attention to the smooth, muscular expanse of his chest, her hand stroking the contours languorously with long lingering strokes as she explored him with her eyes, reacquainting herself with his body.

Her scent surrounded him, the rich vanilla combined with her own subtle aroma of desire reminding him powerfully of days past. Watching her move as she reached for his belt buckle, her hands confident and skilled, only enhanced his discomfort level. Angelus was beginning to understand covetousness for the first time in his long life with an intractable sense of unease. The scowl of his face deepened.

Glancing up at his face, Buffy paused in her task of undressing him. She studied his face thoughtfully before brushing his bottom lip with her fingertips.  "Don't sulk, lover." She smiled up at him flirtatiously, her eyes touched with a capricious audacity. "I promise to make this worth your while."

"I have no doubt of that, lover." Angelus replied softly, his eyes trained on her face as he repeated her endearment with added emphasis. His tone was amused; his eyes were not. His hand seized her wrist, arresting the slow glide of her fingers across the bulge of his erection.

"Then just what is your problem?" At the undisguised anger in his eyes, Buffy once again returned her eyes to his. She wasn't sure if the look in his eye was anger or passion or something all together different. Was he simply playing games for his own amusement or was he truly enraged?  The thought of either provoked a subtle rise of heat within her body, the possible salacious consequence sending a shiver along her spine.

Complex and incomprehensible reason assailed him. She was too self-reliant and too direct - neither trait particularly one with which he took issue, except that his masculine and chauvinistic impulses preferred her deference to him. It was an unaccustomed assertion of ownership from both man and demon that had previously viewed women as casual amusemements. That is, until and except for Buffy.

It was the idiot soul's fault that things had turned out this way; he had been the one to leave her, couching his own indolent cowardice in noble sentiments about doing what was best for her when it fact it was largely about doing what was easiest for him. But he could - no would - correct that mistake and he would reclaim his mate. But first. first he would take advantage of what she was so willing to offer him.

"There's no problem Buff." He whispered silkily, releasing her hand. In the next instant he forced her hand back to his arousal, cupping it around him and showing her how he wanted her to touch him. "On the contrary. I think I like your new attitude."

"You do, do you?" Her eyelids dropped halfway as the sweet ache of want began pulsing deep inside her. She'd missed this, missed the pure sensual pleasure that could be found in his arms so very much. 

"Oh, definitely." He quietly murmured as he reached beneath the soft cotton of her top to stroke the swelling rise of one silken breast. "A hot little cunt ready and willing to be fucked - what's not to like?"  The feel of her skin was like the softest rose petal, velvety and fine. The thin cotton of her top was no obstacle to the cool sensation of his touch.

The crude word only added to the spiking thrill of lust licking through her veins. Buffy opened her mouth to reply but then his fingertips brushed across her nipple through her shirt and the words stuck in her throat. With slow, deliberate fingers he rubbed each peaking crest through her shirt and the lacy fabric of her bra into a rigid, aching hardness.

When his hand dropped away, satisfied for the moment with the telltale response of her body, Buffy stretched up on her toes to nibble at his lips, rubbing against him suggestively like a cat in heat.  "I want you..." She murmured huskily, arching into him fully as her tongue traced an enticing pattern along his jaw to his ear. ".inside me."

"I know." Angelus murmured, his palms gliding up her back. How small she felt under his hands, how fragile and delicate. He could feel the growing heat of her body; smell the sweet scent of her arousal. "I know what you want." He paused, his hands sweeping down her back to her hips to adjust her against him again. "I know what you like."

"Some of what I like." Buffy breathed seductively against his lips as he lowered his head to kiss her.

Angelus's eyes flared angrily, his mercurial temper ignited once more. He was perturbed by her brazen authority and resentful of her amorous past; wanting no reminders of past pleasures given and received by her with anyone else. Towering over her, a fiery passion of discord still burning in his eyes, he yanked her against him with such force that he felt her flinch. "Damn you." He murmured against her lips, his hands gripping her hips hard, his body straining against hers. 

Buffy moaned softly as her hands reached up to cling to his shoulders. Driven by burning desire, she could no more control their ascent than she could stop the rising tide of passion that was swelling within her. Her luminescent green eyes opened briefly to meet his, their radiant depths hot with longing, before they closed and her lips found his in a hungry kiss.

It was a brutal kiss, impelled by lust, anger, frustration and a misguided sense of betrayal. Short of the actual act of marking her as his with his bite, he was intent on staking his claim on her in no uncertain terms.

Buffy broke off the kiss after a long moment, gasping for air. She could still feel the swaying aggression of Angelus's need pressed against her belly as he pressed against her, his hands roving restlessly over her hips and back.

With effort, she pushed out of his arms and stepped back. Her eyes were half-closed, her breathing hushed as she reached for the hem of her shirt and, just as she had done earlier, she pulled her top over her head. Reaching behind her, she unhooked the clasp in her bra and dropped it next to her shirt on the floor. Deliberately, she made eye contact with him as she reached down with torturous slowness and cupped the mounds of her breasts in her hands. Her nipples were still rigid from his earlier attentions and her desire for him, the pink tips now tingling with want. She could almost feel the cool, sucking pressure of his mouth. Her eyes closed as her fingers rubbed the peaked crests firmly.

Angelus watched her with dark eyes, a feral expression on his face when she turned her attention back to him and finished undressing, kicking off her sandals quickly and stripping the low-waist jeans and thong panties down her legs and off. Gracefully she walked over to the bed, bending slightly to strip the comforter back. Watching her, her moves graceful, feline and sensuous, provoked both his desire and his earlier unresolved anger. He flexed his fingers as he took in the deliberately provoking position; the satiny curve of her bottom, the curve of her hip and thigh and the teasing glimpse of the feminine portal between her legs.

She turned and stretched in a slow luxurious movement, artfully displaying the luscious ripe mounds of her breasts before she sat down on the bed. Her thighs parted provocatively as she leaned back on her elbows. Her eyes drifted over him lazily, bolding assessing as she waited for him to make the next move.

Buffy watched him for several long moments. There was no mistaking the tension in his body. She felt it, but she also felt the smoldering fire between them, the undeniable attraction, the irrepressible need.

"Look, I've never brought any one here before." She soothed as she removed the fabric band from her hair, releasing the golden tresses as if it were an after thought. She wasn't sure why she wanted him to know or why it should matter, but for some unforeseen reason it just did. She smiled up at him. "Is that the right answer?"

How many times had she cajoled a man into better humor? Angelus wondered, still watching her with a menacing expression. How many times had she smiled like that in bed? How many men had seen her in such lush disarray - her hair tousled on her shoulders, her cheeks flushed from passion, her lips swollen from kisses, her thighs spread in open carnal invitation?

He stared at her for long seconds, his expression unreadable. Did he believe her?

"Are you thinking of joining me?" She questioned softly, watching the muscle clench in his jaw. Oh yes, the fire was there. She just needed a little more of an igniter. Bending her knees, she lifted her legs and propped her feet on the bed, then slowly parted her thighs wider blatantly exposing herself to his gaze. Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, "or beating me?"

For the space of five tautly silent seconds he stood there taking in the provocative invitation she so beautifully offered, all dewy wet and hotly eager. A muscle in his cheek twitched.

"Mm. now there's an idea." Angelus finally growled in response, his hand removing his belt with deliberate slowness.

"Ummmm." Buffy purred as she rolled on to her stomach. "You look devilishly wicked when you say that." Rising to her knees, she looked back at him over her shoulder her eyes alive with passion, the rounded globes of her behind tantalizingly displayed for his view. "Will I like it?"

"I can say with a fair degree of confidence." Angelus stalked forward, kicking his shoes off and shoving his pants down his legs. "That you will." 

When he reached her, lust exploded in his brain - pure, unadulterated and coursing through him in a wild flood.  He dropped the belt to the floor, changing his mind about that particular diversion - for now. He flipped her on to her back in one smooth motion, his lips finding hers with frantic urgency. In another two seconds, he guided his erection to the hot, wet heat between her legs and in one second more was buried deep inside her.

Buffy welcomed him with a wildness of her own, her strong arms clawing at him to draw him closer as he lunged forward.

Now that he was where he wanted most to be, Angleus stopped and fought for control of his raging lust. He pulled back slightly and gazed down at her, his dark eyes boring in to hers, bold and shameless. His hands captured hers and pressed them firmly into mattress on either side of her head.

"Now then, my sweet little bitch," Angelus nipped at her shoulder as he slowly withdrew only to thrust forward again with determination. He wanted her to assuage the chafing frustration, the jealous anger. And he wanted to know that she wanted him more than she wanted anyone else. "Ask me nicely to fuck you."

"Damn it, Angelus." Buffy attempted to move beneath him, but the solid weight of his body held her pinned to the bed.

"Or perhaps I should stop." He threatened in a low husky whisper near her ear, his tongue tracing the delicate shell before he planted several nipping kisses along her neck.

She writhed beneath him slightly but only succeeding in driving him deeper.  Her eyes closed in sublime satisfaction even as the frustration of his controlled movement built.

"Don't be obstinate, lover. Tell me." Angelus murmured as he moved again, thrusting into her so solidly, so deeply that she gasped. He moved again and she mewled softly, the molten rapture streaking through her senses. He held her immobile, subject to his whim.

Silence engulfed them, a hushed quiet rebellious with suppressed, feverish need.

"Angel-us." Buffy finally murmured in protest as he shifted slightly, ensuring that he connected directly with the sensitive nub of pleasure at the top of her mound. She arched against him as the spikes of pleasure jolted her, pressing the hard peaks of her nipples against the cool wall of his chest.  Angelus moved again and a flare of indescribable rapture flooded her senses.

"Say it, lover." Angelus whispered against her neck, his tongue laving the frantic beating of her pulse. "It's not so . difficult."

"Please." The whisper was soft, barely audible but his preternatural hearing picked it up easily. He smiled and nuzzled her cheek.

"Please. Angelus. Now." The additional breathy cry was capitulation enough, and he drove into her again as a wild rapacious jolt surged through his body at the sound of such unrestrained passion.

He knew exactly how to touch her, how deep, how slow, how hard. She was so naturally responsive to him. he still knew precisely how to make her lose control - so he did.

Her high keening cry had only just subsided when he began to move again. He kept her pinned beneath him like a sacrifice to carnal pleasure as he moved with hard, deliberate strokes. In some part of his tumultuous brain, he selfishly wondered whether he could keep her permanently captive for his pleasure as if forgetting that he himself had only a temporary existence before the soul would once again be in control.

Buffy undulated her hips to lure him more deeply as he murmured seductive words in her ear, his voice deep and velvety, promising her unimaginable pleasures and fulfillment of her darker desires. When he again felt the tightening of her wet heated channel and the next luscious flood of her climax, he increased his pace and thrust harder.

After the pulsing convulsions subsided, he withdrew from her and slid down in the bed. Buffy parted her legs invitingly and he shot her a wicked grin. She was even more luscious and responsive than he remembered, and he eagerly reacquainted himself with the perfection of her tiny body. Buffy sighed and mewled softly as his tongue drifted over her wet slit, exploring her gently before he delved in with insatiable hunger. He brought her to climax several intense times with his mouth and fingers before she finally pulled away, panting heavily and pleading for him to stop. She felt over-stimulated, every nerve alive and throbbing to the rapid pulse of her heart.

He ignored her protests as he positioned her beneath him again, his hands cupping her breasts and tugging at her nipples as he guided his erect shaft once more into her soaked heat.

He rocked against her as she keened his name, delighting in the sound of the long suppressed sound coming from her panting and parted lips. She arched into him hungrily, the rapid torrent of delirium threatening her sanity as he pushed her toward yet another orgasmic peak. He kissed her, as if responding to the sound of his name, wanting more from her.

They mated as if they were out to obliterate each other, each consumed by ravenous passion and greedy lust. First he was on top, then she was, as they moved from position to heated position. It was erotic, wild and unrestrained. With increasing urgency he moved, his long delayed climax rapidly approaching.

"Mèin." He whispered against her neck, laving the spot roughly where his mark should have been before sucking the flesh through his teeth. The urge to bite, to mark her again as his was strong but he resisted in deference to her constraint. When the impulse reached the point where it was no longer tolerable, he satisfied his urge by biting down with blunted teeth and sucking hard, leaving a faint purple bruise behind. "Gráim thú."

Buffy felt as if the top of her head lifted off as she plunged toward the inevitable explosive ecstasy. Her hands gripped his hair, pulling his head down to hers for a greedy kiss. At the very peak of sensation, when he felt the shuddering convulsions within her body begin again, Angelus slammed into her with two hard thrusts that brought them to the cataclysmic height together. They lay together, his face buried in her hair and Buffy panting heavily beneath him for long minutes.  When he could finally think again, Angelus rolled, taking her with him so as not to crush her with his weight.

"Gra im oo?" Buffy murmured softly after several long minutes had passed, artlessly mispronouncing the words he had whispered to her earlier. She lay sprawled across his chest, sated and drowsy. Her warmth breath sent little ripples of pleasure across his skin, stirring him from pleasant contentment of the moment. "What does that mean?"

Angelus's hand stopped the lazy stroking of her back and his eyes opened in surprise. Although the words were only half-formed he recognized the phrase "I love you." He hadn't realized that he'd said it.  He adjusted her slightly and his hand resumed the gentle feather light caresses. He shrugged, "It's just sex talk, Buff."

She wasn't looking at his eyes, only felt his dismissive shrug as she lay on his chest. "Mm. But what does it mean?" Her fingertips trailed over ribs. He could feel the delicate sweep of her eyelashes on his chest as she blinked. Even that small touch was seemingly erotic with her.

"It doesn't really translate well." He replied evasively, chagrined to think that he'd confessed his love to her. He didn't love her. Obsessed with her? Yes. Desire her? Oh, yes. Want her for his mate? Hell, yes. But love?  Demons didn't *love*. And most certainly notorious vampires did not love Slayers . Did they?

"I've just never heard you talk like that before, you know in that language." She lifted her head to look at his face, disrupting his vacillating thoughts. "I like how it sounds."

"Gaelic?" She looked deliciously tousled and he was motivated by a restless, urgent passion, desperately wanting more of her. Subconsciously perhaps, he knew that his time was limited. Rolling her on her back, he murmured against her lips. Love, huh?  "Hmm. how's this then . póg mé, mhuirnín?"

"What does that mean?" Her lips curved into a smile as she wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss.

"Kiss me," He murmured softly against her lips. "sweetheart." Maybe this love thing wasn't so bad after all.

She lifted her head slightly to find his lips again, her kiss passionate and hungry. It was the last word either of them said before their thoughts deserted them for more earthy pleasures.

A long while later, as he drifted off to sleep with her in his arms, Angelus thought that perhaps whatever magic she had used to break the bond must surely have broken. With a small smile, he congratulated himself for a job well done. Soul boy will have a few things to thank him for tomorrow.

Angel leisurely rolled over and reached out his arm. When he encountered cool sheets instead of the warm body he'd been expecting he sat up in alarm but relaxed in another moment when he heard the drone of the shower running in the nearby bathroom.  He glanced at the clock, noting the time: almost 4:00 am. It was a little unusual that she was up showering at this time of the morning, but then again he knew nothing about her schedule now. Slowly he sank back into the bed, crossing his arms behind his head.

Thoughts of the previous night drifted through his mind. He was more than a little conflicted about the events of the evening. Angelus had a ruthlessness that he sometimes lacked, so he was grateful in some respects for Sebastian slipping him the Ecstasy laced cocktail. no doubt it contributed to his success in dealing with the demons that had shown up for the contrived "Slayer Elimination" tournament.  The thought of which brought an angry frown to his face. Angel was more than a little disappointed in his son. He sighed heavily; he'd have to deal with Connor first thing when he returned to LA and he wasn't looking forward to it.

The sound of the shower cutting off shifted his attention back to Buffy. That was another thing to add to his list of regrets. He'd never wanted to return to Sunnydale, to her, as Angelus. The fact that she so readily accepted him as a demon bothered him more than he cared to admit, and yet at the same time he found it strangely reassuring.

Whereas he was ashamed of his primal nature, Buffy had been accepting. She never treated him as anything but a man, she had made him believe in himself again, made him believe that he could be more than what he was. made him believe in love, made him feel love. He shifted on the bed uncomfortably. She'd given him so much and he. well, he'd pushed her away until he could no longer deny his own feelings, then he tormented her as Angelus, only to return and break the promises that he'd made to her when he'd left her behind.

"Hey. You're awake." Buffy greeted him softly as she returned from her shower, combing her hair gently and detangling the wet strands. She studied him from her position near the door, the only light in the room coming from a nightlight in the hall behind her.

"Hey." Angel replied uncertainly. What was her reaction going to be to the events of the night? Had Angelus offended her in any way?  Hurt her? He had his own memories of course but her feelings weren't quite clear. Not to mention, he wasn't even sure in his own mind how he felt about her taking his demon home and engaging in such amorous entertainments.

"You're you again." Buffy murmured quietly as she continued into the room and sat next to him on the bed, her eyes appraising him with interest. He looked deliciously appealing lying in her rumpled sheets, his dark head resting on her pillow. His hair was in disarray from their earlier play and the fingers she had run through it, making her fairly itch to sink her hands into the thick mass again. Her eyes drifted over the corded muscles in his folded arms, down to his lean torso only to stop where the sheets were bunched at his waist and hiding the rest of him from her view.

"Yeah." Angel murmured, his tone regretful. It shamed him, his demon, and the lack of control that he had over it at times. He dropped his eyes and uncrossed his arms, moving to sit up on the bed. "Did I-" 

Anticipating the turn of his thoughts, Buffy interrupted with a smile, a playful sweet smile. "You were terrific." Abruptly she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. "really." Despite the relative excesses during the night, a wave of sexual frisson fluttered through her senses. She was more than enjoying her newfound freedom with him.

He could smell the clean fragrance of her skin coupled with the rich delectable vanilla scent that he had always associated with her wafting from her warm skin and it stirred his senses, reminding him of the feel and taste of her from the night before. Even now he could still savor the essence of her on his tongue. 

Angel frowned, discomfited by her casual demeanor just as his demon had been. His now growing agitation combined with his jealously of the attention that she had so easily and eagerly bestowed on his demon gave his eyes a hint of fierce anger.

Noting his grim expression she sighed. She thought they'd put the moody vampire thing to rest last night, but then again that had been Angelus, not Angel. If he was still the same brooding vampire that she had known, then no doubt he was feeling guilty about Angelus's return - no matter how short a duration. There was also the possibility that he was put out by her behavior, scandalized or perhaps even angry that she'd eagerly slept with his demon.  She might even expect censure from him for her actions or behavior. She didn't even consider jealousy, which would have been perhaps more singularly accurate characterization of his feelings.

"Would it make it easier for you, " Buffy whispered softly, her luminous green eyes squarely meeting his, "if I seduced you?"

"You do this often then?" Angel replied petulantly, his eyes raking over her with a frost-filled gaze.

"No, not often." Buffy assured him with a grin as she threw her leg over his lap, straddling him on the bed and pushing him back against the headboard with a solid shove. "At least, not until last night."

"Ah. Should I feel honored?" Angel retorted, a certain insolence his words as his jealously eclipsed his earlier feelings of contrition and shame. She said something similar to his demon last night - he wasn't sure if he believed her then or if he believed her now.

"Sure, if you like." Buffy replied with a shrug, shifting on his lap slightly even as his hands automatically came up to circle her waist. Leaning down to brush her lips across his, she continued with a husky whisper, "But later, baby, okay?"

His discord was fast dissolving with the feel of her lips on his, the sensation long missing from his life. As her tongue licked across his lips, he reached one hand up to her head, holding her still so he could take control, tasting her mouth and sliding his tongue between her lips, feeling her respond to him. With Buffy there was an instinctive need, an irrepressible lure.

As they kissed, his hand untied her robe and snaked inside to rest on her ribs, just under the curve of her breast. He changed the slant of his head deepening their kiss, as Buffy purred slightly and leaned into him a bit more, eagerly returning his kiss. His palm drifted slowly upward to feel the cresting peak of her nipple before gliding back and forth slowly, feeling the tip harden further in his palm.  The slow burn of passion began to spiral through both of them as the floodgates of long denied desire opened yet again.

Buffy broke their kiss, taking in a deep breath before she began planting soft, butterfly kisses over his face: the slant of his eyebrow, the straight aquiline bridge of his nose, on each closed eyelid. She nuzzled his jaw, brushing gently along his face with her nose before stopping to nibble on his earlobe, willing away the tension still taut within his body as he mentally debated his feelings of unease.

Angel felt the naked heat of her body against his stomach, even through the thin sheet. Her lips and tongue teased his ear; when her mouth slid along his neck, he tilted his head slightly to the side to give her easier access. The feel of her body against him, the sweet sensation of her kisses was rapidly sweeping away any hesitation and any reservations, along any other thoughts that he might have had.

She used her teeth to nibble and bite at his neck, knowing full well the effect it would have on him, before easing back and down his legs and leaving a trail of wet nipping kisses on his throat.  She then kissed a path down his chest, stopping to lap at his nipples with her tongue before closing her teeth on them with the lightest pressure. When she heard a soft sound escape his lips, her eyes swept up to his face and she bit down harder forcing another small moan from his lips.

Not quite satisfied that she had overcome all of his pointless reservations and more than happy to explore the body she hadn't had the leisure or opportunity to do so before, she scooted down yet again on the bed bringing her face level with his stomach. With a teasing flick of her tongue, she traced the muscles of his abdomen, watching as his muscles contracted with each adept wet swipe.  His hands came up to rest on her shoulders when she traced the circle of his belly button before dipping the tip of her tongue in with a provocative thrust. Reaching up with one hand, she raked her nails gently across his chest, stopping to rub her fingertips over the now taut buttons of his nipples.

Angel closed his eyes and dropped his head back to the headboard behind him when she tugged the sheet down to expose his now hard erection to her gaze. He sucked in an unnecessary gasp of air when he felt her warm breath caress his hard cock before she lapped gently at the swollen and reddened crest. After a few seconds of the tantalizing pleasure, she took him into the warm, moist cavern of her mouth. Within another few seconds, he was so hard that it almost hurt. 

With exquisite slowness she licked and nibbled, at turns sucking him deeply into her mouth, at others tracing him with butterfly light strokes of her tongue. She circled her fingers around his shaft, tugging firmly as she scraped him every so gently with her teeth. 

"Do you like that?" Buffy asked in a breathy whisper as she looked up at him, her tongue licking him affectionately, her eyes half closed and gleaming seductively.

Angel forced his eyes open at the sound of her voice and, with considerable effort, pulled back from the ragged edge of ecstasy where she had pushed him. He glanced down at her, his eyes welcoming the sight of the beautiful blonde lying between his legs, her brilliant green eyes darker in unlit room, her lips wet and shiny. 

"Mmmmm." He murmured softly as her tongue swept across him again, laving him with a near-painful slowness. When the warm heat of her mouth once again engulfed him, the fleeting thought crossed his mind that perhaps nothing had ever felt this good. Each sweep of her tongue, each sucking pressure jarred his nerve endings and sent him racing with wildfire speed toward climax.

"Is that," she said, a smile curving her lips as her tongue lazily continued along the length of him with long wet licks before swirling around the crest, "a yes?"  Before he could answer, she once again took him deep into her mouth and throat.

In response, he only nodded, several horizons beyond conversation, his hands gripping her shoulders with his increasing urgency. He groaned deep in his throat as exquisite sensation swept over him, her lips and tongue creating an intense friction that he could feel through his entire body.

She smiled again and drew him deep into her mouth, sucking with increased pressure.

He tensed when she paused and his hands slid into her hair, the feel of the silken tresses on his hands and brushing across his groin only adding to the burgeoning sense of ecstasy, the rapid pulsing of the culmination of desire.

Buffy began to move her head faster in deference to his lightly guiding hands, using her teeth to gently scrape the tip before sucking him hard back into her throat.  She was enjoying the sense of power touching him gave her, enjoying the pleasure she gave him, enjoying his surrender to her. Reaching between his legs, she caressed the sensitive twin spheres of his testicles, rolling and squeezing them gently.  His fingers tightened in her hair and she sensed his orgasm before it began. When he arched his hips and released a growl deep in his chest, she swallowed his ejaculation with eagerness, basking in his taste and the result of his pleasure.

Resting her head on his thigh, Buffy continued to kiss and nibble his still semi-hard erection with feather light kisses, waiting for Angel to stir.  Long minutes later, he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her. She was pleasure unimaginable.

"I missed you." He whispered huskily, reaching down to tug her up to him. He pushed her robe off her shoulders, his eyes drinking in her lush naked beauty despite the darkness in the room. Could he subdue his vampire tendencies, his masculine age-old instincts that cried out for him to tame her, to own her? 

Angel's hands slid up her waist to her breasts, cupping them in his palms and squeezing gently. His hands felt cool against the heat of her skin and he felt her tremble slightly.  She leaned down to kiss him, their tongues tangling and caressing as they explored each other's mouths, their kisses growing more heated and demanding at each touch.

No, he could not.

With a sudden, unexpected movement, Buffy found herself flat on her back, Angel leaning over her and nuzzling her breast. She closed her eyes and buried her fingers in his hair as his lips circled one taut peak with agonizing slowness before sucking the pink crest into his mouth and drawing on it powerfully. Alternating sucks with nipping bites, he worshiped her breasts: the stiff and swollen tips, the dusky aureoles and the rounded outer curves and valley between. No patch of skin was left untouched by his exploring lips.

While his lips were preoccupied, his hands swept over her, touching her everywhere. Sliding along her arms, down the sides of her breasts to her waist then along her hips and thighs, moving lower to glide along the calves of her bent legs to her knees - touching her everywhere but between her legs where the growing ache for him was building.

Buffy opened her eyes for a brief second to meet his as Angel finally trailed his hand up her inner thigh to the damp curls between her legs. At the first sweeping touch of his fingers, her hips lifted off the bed, rising of their own accord to meet his hand. When his finger slid inside her, she whimpered softly. He added a second finger, stretching her gently, teasing and touching with delicate strokes. His thumb grazed the swollen nub of her clitoris, lightly enough to make her mewl softly and raise her hips again, pleading for firmer pressure.

As he watched her through lowered lashes, he wondered again how he had ever convinced himself to live without her, how he had ever settled for anyone else except his precious, golden goddess. His mouth covered hers greedily, hungrily, tasting her sweetness there as his fingers continued to probe the wet heat between her legs.

"I love you." He whispered huskily, lifting his head slightly so she could catch her breath.

"Mmm. " Buffy's eyes opened briefly, the hazel green luminescent in the dim light. She smiled at him as she tilted her head back and nibbled on his lower lip.  "And I need you, Angel, please..." 

At her encouragement, he settled between her spread legs, pressing against her with his weight as she rocked her hips into him insistently, her desire for him now burning hot. His lips settled on hers again as he guided his hard cock to her dripping wet sex, then thrust slowly inside. Buffy wrapped her legs around his hips and clutched his shoulders tightly, holding him to her.

Kissing her softly for long minutes, he whispered to her how much he had missed her, how good she felt, how good he felt inside her, how tight and hot she was, how much he wanted her. Rotating his hips in slow, barely perceptible movements he pressed against her sensitive clit, steadily driving forward. Buffy gasped and arched against him, softy sighs of pleasure escaping her lips at his husky whispers and subtle motions.

Impatiently Buffy shifted their position, straddling his hips and raising herself to a seated position on his lap. His hands spanned her waist, guiding her movements as she began to move slowly up and down, rolling her hips slightly and rocking forward with each downward stroke. On each upward motion, she paused with only the tip of his erection inside her before lowering herself down completely, stopping at the bottom to absorb the exquisite sensation of fullness of him, his size stretching her, filling her as no one else had ever done. Using muscles that he didn't even know she had, she tightened around him, clenching and squeezing until she managed to elicit a low groan from him, almost a growl.

Angel reached up, his large hands once more cupping and squeezing her breasts, unable to resist the taut peaks of her nipples that seemed to beg for his touch. He watched her with half-closed eyes as he squeezed her nipples gently then with increasing pressure as she arched into his hands.

With a teasing gleam in her eyes, she held her fingers to his lips and waited for him to take them into his mouth. When he had sucked and licked them to her satisfaction, she withdrew them from his mouth and rubbed the wet pads of her fingertips across first his nipples, then her own.

Grasping her hips in his hands, Angel rolled her beneath him once more, at long last yielding to his impulses that cried out to possess her, to dominate her, to mark her as his once more. He moved with increasing speed, drawing her legs up around his hips as he braced his feet and thrust hard. He wanted to eradicate all traces of her past, of anyone else that she had ever been with.  As Angelus had thought earlier in the evening, Angel too wondered then if he could keep her all to himself - for as long as he wanted.

"Yes, Angel, harder..." Buffy keened wildly, clinging to him and relishing the weight of his strong body driving into her. He pounded her into the bed, burying his face in her neck and biting down. Where his mark had been. Where his mark *should* be. Her hips arched to meet his as his hands slid under her bottom, pulling her into his next down stroke. She eagerly matched his rhythm, arching against him. Their lovemaking was breathless, fierce, tumbling, falling, hurtling; unlike anything he had experienced before. A low guttural groan escaped his lips as he spurted his seed inside her.  Buffy followed his lead bucking hard against him as she too reached the pinnacle of pleasure, crying out softly before he collapsed against her, his arms wrapping around her back to clutch her tightly into his chest.

After a long moment he rolled from her, keeping Buffy curled against him with one arm. Sated and content, they slept.  

And a tiny fissure formed in the ice around the Slayer's heart.

It was close to dawn when Angel woke again. The first thing that he noticed was that he was alone again, but after a minute pause he could hear the sounds of Buffy moving around in the kitchen. Noting the time as well as his own internal clock, he cursed softly under his breath, knowing immediately that it was too late for him to return to LA much less leave Buffy's condo unless there was a sewer entrance incredibly close by. 

He smiled slightly as he rose, thinking of their night together. It wasn't how he had planned for things to go, but he wasn't complaining. They'd still have to figure out how to make things work between LA and Sunnydale - he doubted if she'd leave the hellmouth and he couldn't really leave LA right now.

He took a quick shower and dressed in his clothes from the night before, grimacing slightly at the traces of demon blood on them. He hadn't exactly planned well - or really, at all - for this trip that much was true. Had he even guessed that he would have been spending the night in Sunnydale he would have packed a bag.

He smiled slightly at the sight that greeted him when he walked into the small kitchen: Buffy sat at the table reading the paper, a cup of coffee near her elbow. She was obviously showered and dressed, ready to start her day.

"Good morning." He smiled, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. 

"Morning." Buffy replied without looking up from the article she was reading. "You're welcome to stay - since it's well, day and you kind of have to stay inside."

"Thanks." Angel paused, a little confused by her somewhat cool demeanor this morning. They could have been friendly coworkers meeting over coffee, rather than the most intimate of lovers. 

"I've got to get to work." Buffy stood, folding the paper and collected her coffee cup and the nearby plate with toast crumbs. She rinsed the dishes in the sink and sat them aside.

"Uh, okay. I'll see you later?" Angel's sense of alarm was growing steadily; where was the warm and impassioned woman from the night before?

"Uh, sure. Yeah. I'll be home around 7 - earlier if I can." She turned to face him, drying her hands on a towel. "You okay staying in Sunnydale today?"

"Yeah, it's fine. I'll call the office in LA and let them know."

"Sorry." Buffy replied apologetically, knowing that her own interests had been the cause of his delay. Had she simply let him go earlier they wouldn't be having this awkward morning after moment. Of course, they wouldn't have had that truly astonishing before moment either, had she not given in to her impulse. She suppressed a slight smile, "I wasn't thinking, you know, about the day thing."

"No, it's fine. Really." Angel assured her, noting her calm and detached disposition. A tiny flare of unresolved anger and jealously flared in his eyes. He hadn't really wanted to say it, hadn't wanted to start the argument again but he seemed incapable of controlling his temper. "Do all your lovers not spend the night then?"

Noting the hint of anger in his voice, Buffy sighed tiredly. She'd already been through this with Angelus and somewhat with Angel last night. Did he honestly think that leaving her entitled him to offer his opinions on her past or her life now?  With a direct stare, she firmly replied. "It's none of your business, Angel."

"You do this a lot then?"  He questioned insolently, all his feelings of hurt, jealously and anger now clamoring loudly in the forefront of his mind.

"Do what?" She questioned warily, wanting clarification before she took issue with his statement. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, bracing for battle.

"Take guys home for sex?" He challenged, his brow quirking in question, his eyes piercing under the slant of his brow.

"No, not that it's any of your business."  Buffy retorted acerbically,  "I suppose I should have just let Angelus run around Sunnydale then? Killing? Raping? Murdering?  You need more crimes to atone for, do you?" 

"Of course not, it's just-" Angel snapped in frustration, his hands gripping the back of the chair and threatening to break the wooden back.

"Just what? You left me so I could fuck, Angel." She bluntly replied, stopping at the expression of near shock on his face, and correcting her words with a sardonic tone, "Oh, sorry, excuse me - you left me so I could make love. Don't get mad because I do." There was no need for him to know that she hadn't really practiced that to the extent that he perhaps thought.  Turning around and grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair, she unthinkingly muttered under her breath, "Geez, and to think the last time I had sex was like 4 years ago with Spike."

"You slept with Spike?"  Angel asked, his attention shifting suddenly to her choice of partner rather than the many he had imagined. He also remembered Cordelia's words about Buffy and his grandchilde. For the most part, he'd dismissed those as yet another of her lies. "How could you? I didn't leave so you could, could- with him!  Lovemaking is supposed to be special, it's -"

"It's what Angel?" Buffy interrupted impatiently, her belief firm that he had absolutely no grounds over which to offer his opinion on her life. "Fireworks? Bell's ringing? A dulcet choir of pretty little birdies?" 

Angel stopped short. The words were eerily familiar. Those were the same words that Angelus had said to her the morning after they had first been intimate. He'd kicked himself time and again for sweeping that under the rug when he'd returned from hell, for not dealing with the seeds of insecurity and doubt that the demon had planted in her mind. It was apparent now that those unattended seeds had certainly taken root and grown leaving a wealth of hurt and bitterness. 

"But Buffy-"

"Hey, you're the last person that should be all pious about it, Angel. What with Darla and Dru and Cordelia and god knows how many others." Buffy countered cuttingly, "You spent the last three years fucking Cordelia and risking your soul - and you have the nerve to question me about who I've slept with?"

Angel ran his hair through in frustration, she was right and he knew it. He couldn't critique her about her sex life; besides, Angelus wouldn't have given her a choice..

Like a slap in the face it hit him. The spell. It wasn't broken after all, despite her eager and generous responses to him in the night. She took him home because she wanted to have sex, not because her feelings for him had changed.

"Look Angel, last night was great, really, but it's just."

"I know."  Angel replied, dropping his eyes. "Buffy, I understand. I had no right to question you. Or judge you. I'm sorry."

Buffy smiled with relief, crisis apparently averted. She waved her hand dismissively. "Look I have to go to work. Make yourself at home, okay? I'll see you later."

She kissed him lightly on the cheek then headed out the door.

Angel watched her go with a frown on his face. The woman walking away from him wasn't the Buffy that he remembered. Of course he hadn't expected winning her back to be easy, especially after all they had been through but now... Now he wasn't sure if he'd be able to reach her.

But he wasn't about to give up. Not yet.

****

Angel waited until just after 7:30 before dialing Gunn's cell number. He knew that his friend and coworker was typically up by now, especially with the baby, but somehow it seemed impolite to call any earlier.

"Yo." Gunn's voice rang out clearly when he answered. "Angel?"

"Hey." Angel replied, skipping all pleasantries and going straight to the reason for his call. "Find Connor and lock him up. His room if it's secure enough, the old cage in the basement if he gives you any problems. I don't want him to be left alone and he can't leave the hotel."

"You sure, man?" Gunn replied hesitantly, shifting the phone to his other ear. "What's up?"

"I'll tell you when I get back to LA." Angel replied absently, noting the shadows of someone moving around outside Buffy's window. "Let's just say relaxing my guard and letting him have the run of the hotel without constant supervision was a mistake."

"Sure thing. I'll round him up and make sure he's here when you get back." Gunn smiled slightly, guessing Angel's location and reason for being there. "Just when is that gonna be?"

"Tonight maybe, tomorrow." Angel said thoughtfully, noting the date on Buffy's calendar. He still had a few days yet before Nikkos would be back.

"You in Sunnydale then?" Gunn bantered, smiling at Fred as she approached him with Amelia in her arms.

"Yeah." Angel answered, his mind drifting back to Buffy with worry that whatever magic she had invoked might prove to be permanent.  "Do me a favor. Tell Lorne I want him to come to Sunnydale. Now. Tonight."

He was groping now, and he knew it, but maybe if he could get Buffy to sing something, the Host could read her and see something that might help him. 

"Will do." Gunn replied affirmatively.

"Thanks. I owe you." Angel hung up the phone.

For the next hour he flipped through Buffy's pile of magazines then perused her small bookshelf until he came across the volume of poems similar to the one he had given her for her eighteenth birthday. He settled on her couch and began to read, wanting to kill the time until she returned.

His cell phone ringing woke him up from where he had been dozing on the couch. He typically slept during the day, so it was what his system was used to, and despite his interest in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poetry, he'd still managed to fall asleep for a couple of hours.

Picking up his phone, he noted that it was the number from the hotel. Worried that it might be news about Connor, Angel flipped open the phone and answered.

"Angel."

"Angel, thank god. Where are you?" Cordelia's voice sounded loudly through the phone. "You know I worry."

"Cordelia." Angel gritted the seers name out through clenched teeth. He'd successfully managed to avoid her this last week and had no intention of changing that. This was the first time that he had in fact had to talk with her in days. 

"You may have just stopped caring about me Angel, but I still care about you." Cordelia tearfully declared. 

"What do you want?" Angel replied coolly, stretching slightly and adjusting his position on the couch.

"You don't have to be so cold." The seer replied snottily, her tone obvious and clear even over the phone transmission.

"Cordelia." Angel warned, anxious to quit the conversation with her.

"Angel. Connor's been saying stuff. He's threatening me with lies." Cordelia blurted, thinking that perhaps something dramatic would capture Angel's interest and attention. Besides, she needed to start covering her own ass, just in case Connor did tell Angel everything as he threatened.

"Why?" Angel asked moderately, unmoved by her statements. It would take a heck of a lot more than that for him to trust her again, to believe anything she might have to say.

"I don't know. I think he wants to keep us apart."

"Well, he doesn't have to lie to do that. We *are* apart." Angel stated, watching the shadow of someone through the living room curtain approach Buffy's door. "And Cordy, we're going to stay that way."

"Dammit Angel-"

"Bye Cordelia."

Angel snapped the phone closed and hung up. In the next instant, a knock sounded on the door.

 

 

 

Part VIII

 

Amelia was just dozing off after her morning feeding when the phone rang bringing her still baby blue eyes open with a snap. Fred let out a tired sigh and reached for the phone with one hand, her other hand once more beginning the gentle rocking motion of the little bouncy seat to lull the fussy infant back to sleep.

"Angel Investigations." She answered with a hushed whisper, watching as the baby's eyes began to fitfully close again as she fought against napping. Recognizing the voice on the other end of the line, Fred smiled slightly. "Oh, hello Mr. Giles."

"No, I'm really sorry. He's still not here." She replied apologetically after Giles asked for Angel again. He'd called several times in the last week; apparently Angel wasn't returning his calls.

"Well, Angel has been in and out so much lately. I'm sure he's meant to call."  She excused, her brow creasing into a frown. Angel was usually so good about returning calls; she was a little perplexed as to why he wouldn't want to talk to someone as nice as Mr. Giles.

"Oh, you are?  Okay, let me just grab a pen and I'll write down that number."  Grabbing the first pad of paper within reach out of the desk drawer along with a pen, Fred jotted down Giles's new number in London. She realized then that she had grabbed the pad of paper containing the sketches that Angel had drawn the other day. Absently she flipped through the sketches again, wondering once more about Angel's interest in the woman. Could she be the Buffy that she'd heard so much about but had never seen?

"Yes, I'll make sure that he gets the message, I promise." She reassured the nice gentleman on the phone, turning her attention back to their conversation. She wondered briefly if she should give him Angel's cell number. Probably not, at least not until she or Gunn had a chance to talk with Angel about it first. The young mother gave a small sigh and soothed the brown curls beginning to form on her daughter's head.

A movement across the room caught her eye and Fred glanced up. Instinctively she scooted Amelia's bouncy seat just a little closer to her as Cordelia descended the stairs.

"Okay, you too. Bye." Fred hung up the phone, carefully tucking the pad of paper inside a case file and out of sight as the dyed blonde crossed the lobby.

"Hiya Fred." Cordelia said breezily as if she had not a care in the world, stopping at the counter to flip through the small stack of messages. This time she pocketed Angel's message yesterday from Giles without even bothering to hide her actions. Curiously she inquired, "Have there been any other calls for me? Or for Angel?"  She was dying to hear the outcome of the time she had spent planning for the Slayer's elimination. Surely something had to have happened by now.

"Uh, Hi." The young mother murmured softly her eyes anxiously searching the stairs behind the seer for a sign of Gunn's return. She nodded at the pink slips of paper in the other woman's hand. "Only those there."

"You're sure? This is it?" Cordelia frowned. She'd heard the phone ring earlier and was certain that it would be the call she had been expecting. Or rather, the call she'd been expecting for Angel. "Anyone call and *not* leave a message?"

Fred chewed her bottom lip fretfully, a guarded expression on her face. Nervously she pulled Amelia even closer and scooped the baby out of her seat.  Amelia gurgled softly, unaware of her mother's growing tension, and slipped into sleep.

"Um, yes. I mean, no, no one else called. That's all of them." Her eyes darted back to the stairs while she mentally chanted for Charles to hurry back.

"Then who was on the phone just now?" The seer demanded impatiently, running one hand over her hair. 

After a minute pause, Fred replied, "Amelia's pediatrician's office. They were just reminding me of her next appointment." She wasn't sure why she lied, but seeing Cordelia openly sift through Angel's message and take one might have been the impetus.

Muttering a soft expletive under her breath, Cordelia glanced over her shoulder to where Fred's eyes were trained. Seeing nothing of interest, the dyed blonde turned back and leaned over the counter.

"So just where the hell is Angel this morning anyway, Fred darling?" The seer lifted one foot casually, admiring her new 4-inch high-heeled sandals. They were expensive, but more than worth it for the sexy appearance they gave her, the height giving her just the perfect amount of perch on her toes, causing her to thrust her bottom and breasts out in opposite directions to keep her balance in the way that men loved so much, not to mention they were the exact height she'd need to align her body just so perfectly with Angel's tall form.  No doubt that he would be appreciative of them as well, for all his bluster that they were going to stay apart. No man resisted Cordelia Chase for long when she was in full on pursuit.

Her mind strayed briefly to the impossible thought of Buffy's freakishly short stature alongside the tall vampire. No doubt Angel had to stoop to kiss her, which how unsexy, not to mention uncomfortable, must that be for him?  It must be like kissing a child. She scoffed and turned her attention back to Fred and Amelia.

"He's not in his room and he didn't come back last night." It galled her to say that, almost admitting that she, Cordelia, half-demon seer extraordinaire and the love of Angel's undead life, was no longer part of the inner circle. But damn it, she needed to know where the man was in order to console him. Her call to him earlier had given her nothing to work with.

"I-I real-really don't know." The young mother stammered, half turning away from Cordelia and sizing up the distance between them as if planning her escape route.

"Really?" Cordelia replied skeptically, a small smile crossing her face at the obvious fear masking the other woman's features. Fred was just so easy to toy with, to manipulate. She continued, her tone low and intimidating, "I'm sure he called Gunn to check in, so take a guess."

The dyed blonde smoothed one hand down her crimson skirt, irritably noting the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Her outfit was wasted if Angel wasn't already in the hotel, since it was quite obvious that he wouldn't be able to return now until nightfall. She frowned in annoyance then shrugged a shoulder dismissively. No matter. If this plan fell through and didn't permanently remove Buffy from Angel's life, then what she had read in the Watcher's Journal that Connor had stolen from Giles was certain to be 100% solid-gold, sure-fire, no fail assurance. She smiled at the thought of telling Angel all about it, a malicious smile that didn't meet her eyes.

Before Fred could answer the question, Connor's voice rang out in the lobby drawing both of their attentions. "Fuck! Let go of me! I said I would go, I'll go."   The two men were making their way down the stairs, Gunn close to the younger man's elbow.

Connor jerked away again when they reached the bottom, casting an icy look at Cordelia as he stalked by her. Suddenly, he stopped and turned, the thought crossing his mind that Gunn's ardent interest in his whereabouts this morning had been prompted by something she might have said. With lightning fast speed, he lunged at her, seizing her by the throat.

"What did you say, you bitch?! Huh?" Connor yelled into Cordelia's face as she gasped and fought for air. He shook her hard, causing sputtering noises to escape from her as they fell back solidly into the counter.  "What the fuck did you do?"

Cordelia clawed at Connor's hands with her nails, even as the counter threatened to break her back in two from their weight. In the next instant she was free, falling to her knees and coughing and wheezing as Gunn tackled Connor around the waist and took them both crashing to the floor.

The two women watched at the men thrashed on the floor, Connor flailing wildly and attempting to escape while Gunn fought to control him.

"Damn it, Connor, knock it off." The taller and heavier of the two, Gunn had a slight advantage but Connor had stamina and a preternatural quickness that he had inherited from his parents. Still, Gunn managed to subdue him after a tense and lengthy struggle.

"Fuck you! Get off me!" Connor spat from his trapped position on the floor, his eyes darting wildly around the room in hopes that he could still escape.

Gunn rolled his eyes and stood, yanking Connor up by the arm. With a shove, he pushed the young man toward a chair that sat next to a coiled pile of chain.

Rubbing her red throat, Cordelia slowly came to her feet. Her eyes were icy pits of outrage. How dare he attack her? Her face contorted into an angry mask. She wanted to rail at him, to vent her rage but when she spoke her voice only came out in a raspy but venomous whisper. "You bastard-" Her nails curled into her palms as she struggled to control herself in front of the others. She wanted to slap him senseless in retaliation.

"Fuck you!"  Connor spat furiously in reply as he yanked back hard, attempting to escape the steely grip Gunn had on his arm. His eyes on Cordy's face were glittering with rage.

"Connor." Gunn growled warningly, stepping between them and shoving the young man forward again.

At the sight in front of him, Connor stopped abruptly. His eyes widened as he took in the length of chain fastened securely to one post, a cuff on one end.  "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Your *dad* said to lock you up. I'm locking you up." Gunn ignored the question as he knelt and snapped the cuff around Connor's ankle quickly while the young man stood still in startled surprise. He was a big believer that Angel's firm stance with his son was needed, and in fact, was long overdue. He tugged on the chain, testing its strength for the tenth time since he'd attached it to the post earlier that morning, shortly after Angel's phone call. Standing, he pushed Connor down into the chair firmly, his tone clearly indicating that he wasn't about to take any shit from the young man. "Course, I don't trust you so I want to lock you up where I can see you."

Fred watched the scene with sympathetic eyes. She felt considerable empathy for the man she'd known only as a baby before he returned to them practically a boy, and now a grown man. Having spent a number of years in a dimension where she didn't belong, she knew how difficult an adjustment it was to be back here; trying to be *normal*, whatever that was. She'd also seen another side to the Connor, a rare side that he rarely allowed the others to see. He could be kind, compassion with a wry sense of humor. He was openly and honestly affectionate with Amelia in a way that he so rarely seemed to be with anyone else.

Cordelia smirked when Gunn fastened the chain that would keep Connor securely restricted, then chuckled when he pushed the young man into the chair. From Gunn's comment, it appeared that Angel had found something out about his son that he didn't like. Had it been her phone call? Was Angel's old protectiveness for her returning, despite his gruff words and denial? Was he simply too stubborn to admit that he wanted her back and this was his way of starting to show her - by believing her?

Taking in his former lover's smirk, Connor crossed his arms and stared at the wall. He shifted in agitation and the chain on the floor rattled.

"You all right?" Gunn nodded to Cordelia, looking at her for the first time.

"Yes." She rasped, her voice returning a little. She took in a deep breath and sighed dramatically, leaning weakly on the counter. "I was so frightened. I just- Connor- why? How could you be so-so upset with me? What did I do?" Her eyes pooled with tears, and she covered her face as if to gather her composure. She was unaware that no one in the room was buying her innocent mistreated woman act.

At Cordelia's whispered plea, Connor turned back incredulously. As if the two-faced bitch whore didn't know why he was upset?!

He studied her carefully cultivated expression, her hurt look, her tears. What had happened in a few short hours that now his own dad demanded that he be locked up, a virtual prisoner until his return?  Had Cordelia's sadistic plan to kill the Slayer succeeded and was he going to be blamed?  Underneath the anger though, was a pain so sharp that he thought it might rip him in two. He loved her, or thought that he had, but she. How could she have fooled him for so long? How had he believed that she cared about anyone beside herself? 

 "I want to call my dad." Connor stated, his voice very low.

"Fine. Call him." Gunn said with exasperation as he protectively moved Fred and Amelia out of Connor's reach, one hand patting the still sleeping baby on the back. He was surprised but glad that the baby had slept through all of the commotion.

Cordelia's head jerked up. "Angel doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Uh-huh." Gunn responded ambiguously, kissing Amelia lightly on the head as he settled Fred in a nearby chair.

"He doesn't." The seer insisted firmly, her voice still hoarse, "And I should know. He called me this morning just as he always does. He's- he's working on a case. If you call him now, you'll -you'll just blow his cover."

Fred shook her head slightly at the obvious lie. Only a short while earlier the seer had been asking where he was. Now she expected them to believe that she knew? Her eyes met those of her husband with a meaningful glance.

"Uh-huh." Gunn nodded almost imperceptibly and picked up the office desk phone.

Connor held out his hand, his brown eyes now locked with Cordelia's as if daring her to threaten him with others in the room. She couldn't say anything now about returning him to Quor-toth or making it appear like he just ran off. Maybe this imprisonment thing had an up side to it.

"Here." Gunn handed Connor the phone, taking in the challenging stare between the two clear combatants. 

Cordelia stared at Connor, giving him a look that would have killed him on the spot could it have done so.

Connor dialed almost gleefully, his anger at being punished without Angel even hearing his side of the story evaporating under the sheer pleasure that he would derive from watching Cordelia's face as he told his father about everything she had ever said, everything they had ever done, and everything that she had ever sworn him to secrecy about. Even if Angel didn't believe him, he had to get it off his chest. It was like a weight was slowly being lifted.

He stared back at Cordelia as he listened to the ringing of the phone. She chewed her lip, her eyes narrowing speculatively. She didn't believe he would actually have the nerve to go through with the call and, as each second passed, she also didn't believe he was going to have the opportunity. Her lips began to curve up in a smile.

"Dad?"  Connor forcibly tempered his voice, knowing that he'd need to be reasonable and calm instead of angry and defensive if his father were to believe anything he said.  He took a deep breath and dropped his eyes, staring down at the floor. "I need to talk to you."

Cordelia snorted angrily and stalked off in a huff. Connor would pay for this.

Angel came to his feet when the knock sounded on the door.

For almost a minute he debated his options: hiding or answering. Hiding was easiest and definitely safest but then he wouldn't find out just who might be coming to see Buffy. What man might be coming to see her. The thought popped up unbidden in his mind and ricocheted around with disturbing resonance. A potential boyfriend that might need to be warned off.  A voice inside his head suggested vigilantly.  A voice that sounded suspiciously like that of his demon. A potential boyfriend that *has* to be warned off. The voice insisted firmly with a growl.

Almost angrily Angel stalked to the door. His hand turned the knob just as the voice on the other side of the door called out.

"Yoo-hoo, Angel? Are you in there, sweetie?" 

Angel froze at the sound of Betty's voice and cursed his impulsive action. He'd already started opening the door - too late to turn back now without it being completely obvious. He was having enough trouble working his way back into Buffy's life without doing something to either offend or alarm her neighbors. Taking a deep unneeded breath of air, he cautiously opened the door, careful to stay out of the scant amount of sunlight that crept past the porch roof.

"Betty. Hi." Angel greeted the older woman somewhat warily, the demon inside him laughing at the entertainment prospects of the next few minutes: watching soul boy having to fend off the advances of the horny elderly woman.

"Hi dear. I'm so glad you're here." Betty batted her eyes flirtatiously, "I'm baking a nice loaf of cinnamon apple bread - it's my own recipe - and I'm just two eggs short. I really hate to bother you but, if I could just pop in and borrow a couple."  She trailed off with a coy smile.

"Um, well, I don't-" Angel began, uncertain about giving away anything of Buffy's, even something as innocuous as eggs, without her permission. Besides, he didn't even know if she had eggs.

"I'm sure Buffy won't mind. She's just such a dear. So willing to share, you know?" Betty's eyes drifted along Angel's tall frame, her tongue tracing her lips unconsciously. She stepped forward and Angel stepped back, just out of reach. "Hon, I can just grab them myself."

"I'll get them for you. Uh, wait here." Angel backed up another few steps, holding his palms up flat as he retreated. It would be easier to just get her out of the house; if he had too, he'd buy Buffy a couple of dozen eggs to make up for the two.

Opening the refrigerator, Angel prayed that Buffy would actually have eggs. She didn't have much in her small fridge, that was true, but 7 eggs were carefully placed in their compartment in the door. He smiled slightly as he extracted two of them before closing the door. When he turned around, Betty stood behind him only a scant inch away, her hand steadily reaching for his behind.

With a soft sound of surprise, Angel stepped back awkwardly, moving out of range. And promptly crushed the two eggs he held in his hand into his chest.

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." Betty grabbed a paper towel and reached for the messy egg yolks as Angel backed up again, now clutching his hand protectively to his chest. "Let me help you, sweetie."  Betty smiled with lascivious delight - an excuse to have him take his shirt off could not have materialized any better.

"It's okay - I'll take care of it-" Angel replied as he bumped into the counter behind him, reaching the edge of Buffy's small kitchen. "Why don't you just-"

"No, no, I insist." Betty continued to advance toward him, paper towels in one hand her other reaching out to grab his sweater. "Here, let me take that shirt of yours, sweetie, Betty can wash it for you." Her fingers grazed his stomach as they swept under the hem of his shirt and pulled.

With a sudden burst of preternatural speed, Angel darted around the woman and dropped the messy eggs into the sink. Before she barely had time to turn and blink, he'd grabbed a towel and was dabbing at the sticky mess.

"Uh, no, no, that's all right.  I couldn't let you do that."  He firmly insisted, shaking his head slightly as she began to walk toward him again. He would swear that he could hear his demon laughing at him.

Opening the refrigerator door, he blocked her forward progress. "Why don't you take what you need and I'll. I'll just go clean this up."  With that Angel disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him and locking it. He leaned against it heavily, as if she might appear behind him at any moment. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What if she doesn't leave? What am I going to tell Buffy? What is she going to tell Buffy?

Inside his mind, his demon howled with laughter.

When his cell phone began ringing in the other room a few minutes later, he cursed softly.  After another minute, he heard Buffy's front door close. He could no longer smell the rich musk of Betty's perfume. perhaps it was safe to venture out. Stripping his sweater over his head, he cautiously made his way to the front room and retrieved his phone from the table near the couch.

Assured that Betty was truly gone, Angel glanced at his phone noting that the number was again from the Hyperion. He flipped open the phone as he reached Buffy's front door and twisted the lock firmly.

"Angel."  As he answered he walked through the small condo, looking to see if Buffy even had a washing machine.

****

Angel sighed heavily when he hung up the phone after talking with his son and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. There was so much that he hadn't been aware of, so much going on right under his very nose.

He wasn't sure if he completely believed in Connor's innocence in Cordelia's scheme. After all, he'd willingly become her accomplice simply because he thought it would win him her attention and her affections. But then, she was as shrewd and vicious as she was beautiful, if not more so.

He told Connor that he'd be back by morning and they'd deal with Cordelia together. Until then, he'd have to sit tight under whatever type of house arrest Gunn saw fit to impose on him.  Connor hadn't liked it, but reluctantly agreed, knowing that it would also keep the half-demon seer from carrying out any of her threats to send him away.

Abruptly Angel's thoughts shifted back to Buffy. He'd messed up badly these last few years, that much was true. He could castigate himself about his mistakes until the end of time, but it wouldn't change anything. No, to change things he needed action and information.

Standing, shirtless and barefoot (having decided to wash more than just his sweater once he found the washer), Angel made his way into Buffy's bedroom.

The chest against the wall drew him like a lodestone. With slight hesitation he approached it. After nearly a full minute in contemplation, he opened the lid. The hinges creaked slightly, just as they had nights ago when he had first snooped through her things. The night that he had found the letters that she sent him. The thought of those poignant letters brought a frown to his face and he mentally reminded himself that that was another thing he'd require atonement from his seer for.

Angel stared thoughtfully at the leather bound volumes of her journals, each one dated with the year on the cover. If she ever found out that he'd read one of her diaries, she might never forgive him.

If he didn't find out more about her, he might never get her back. The real her - the warm, loving Buffy that he had known.

He hesitated, his mind warring in indecision. He didn't want to live without her any longer, that much was certain. Decision made, he leaned over and reached into the chest.

Carefully shifting through the stack, he pulled out the book dated 2003. That was the date on the card from Magos Exousia and seemed to be about the time when the lilies had first appeared at the Hyperion - at least from what he could remember.

Almost reverently, he opened the book. He skimmed her writings about the "potentials" or the Slayers in training that had stayed with her. He smiled slightly as he read her animated narrative, feeling her frustration of having to constantly share her house, her bathroom and her food with the other girls, the constant chatter and bickering, and the ever-growing responsibility of constantly trying to keep up a strong front for them.  He frowned when he read about her concern for Spike and his damaged chip, her worry that he might prove to be a bigger hindrance than help - even with a soul. Spike had a soul? When had that happened? And where was he now anyway?

Pushing thoughts of his grandchile aside, Angel continued to read. He worried as read about her concerns and fears about the First Evil but that was coupled with a sense of innate pride at her ability to see to its ultimate demise.

The next page stopped him short. Buffy had written a rather glowing description about a man, someone she simply abbreviated with the initial of R. Riley? No, she dated Riley right after he had moved to LA. Clearly, she had a brief crush on him, whoever this "R." was.  A few pages later in the journal, he found another mention of "R." along with a flattering description of his impressive fighting skills, followed by a brief depiction of his other physical 'attributes' and sketchy details of a few rather torrid nights of passion. Apparently, this "R." had been interested in her as well.  At that, Angel resisted the urge to throw the book across the room and stomp on it in a jealous rage.

With effort he pushed aside his anger and jealousy, forcing his mind to calm. His need to know more about her life was of the utmost importance now, not to mention the fact that they'd been through this topic already. He had no right to judge her life after he had left her. Rational thought failed, however, to soothe his temper completely. It was only when he read that she had broken it off with 'Robin'?  She'd written a name instead of an initial - perhaps an absent-minded accident? R. stood for Robin? Who the hell was Robin? and what kind of girly name is that anyway?  that he was somewhat mollified. She had broken it off with him because she genuinely liked him but knew that she would never love him because she was in love with someone else.  He smiled slightly at that, his hopes climbing.

The next several pages were more about her battle with the First Evil and he read them with a chill running up and down his spine. He hated to think that she had gone through all of that alone. Of course, he'd had his own battle to fight then. The Beast. He sighed, thumbing ahead in the book and turning his attention to back finding anything about a magic spell.

After he had turned several pages in the book, he suddenly stopped. As he read the letters on the page, he sucked in an unneeded breath in anxious anticipation.

At the top of one page she'd written the name of Magos Exousia. Apprehensively, he read the small neatly penciled paragraph beneath: 

It's over. Really, truly, 100% completely over. I finally get that now. I know this is about 4 years overdue but better late than never I suppose. Thanks to the wonders of magic though, it no longer hurts.

In a small postscript underneath, she'd written:

"Forever, that's the whole point." Hah! Forever is not the whole point. It's not even a point. Unless maybe it's a moot one.

Angel's head jerked up with a start when he heard a sound at the door. Moving quickly, he placed her journals back in their proper order and closed the trunk. He winced at the creaking sound of the hinges and crept quietly toward the door. 

It's over? It no longer hurts?  What had she meant? Clearly though, there was magic and a direct connection with Magos Exousia. That was something. Nikkos would be back the day after tomorrow.

The knock sounded again as Angel stopped, standing perfectly still in the hallway. Thinking it might be Lorne, he took another step forward.

"Angel? Are you there, honey?" The muffled sound of Betty's voice could be heard easily through the door, even without preternatural hearing.

Angel froze and said a small prayer of thanks that he hadn't gotten any closer to the door.

"Let Betty in, sugar pie. I brought you my special cinnamon apple bread." Her voice carried with a singsong lilt, clearly certain that the treat would be an irresistible lure. She knocked again, a little louder this time, a little more insistent. "I've made my special maple sauce for it too. It's perfect for drizzling on the bread. And other. things."  The last bit was said under her breath, but clearly audible to Angel's hearing. His eyes widened - surely she wasn't thinking.

She knocked again.

He stood perfectly still, muscles locked in trepidation.

Several minutes ticked by as the elderly woman knocked again, then leaned around in an attempt to glance through the covered windows into the house.

When she finally appeared to give up and go away, Angel felt the tension slowly ease from his body. For once he was glad for all of the practice he had lurking in the shadows.

Very few things frightened him any more, but Buffy's neighbor. she could definitely be classified in the category of scary creatures.  As he made his way back down the hall, he considered how he was going to convince Buffy to find a new place if she stayed in Sunnydale.

Buffy met Betty halfway down the walk as she approached her condo at just after five o'clock. She greeted the elderly woman politely and accepted the cellophane wrapped bread, smiling slightly at the cinnamon spice aroma wafting from the package. She was surprised when Betty mentioned that no one had answered her door. The sun wouldn't be down for another hour or so, which meant that Angel was likely still there.

It required a fair amount of patience and tact, but Buffy was effectively able to defer Betty's less than subtle questions about her ex boyfriend, yet recent lover, that was currently ensconced in her home. To questions about the seriousness of their relationship, Buffy simply replied with non-committal generalities. She had a feeling that Betty would have asked about the quality and quantity of their sex life if she thought Buffy would answer, but thankfully the elderly woman wasn't quite *that* blunt. It still took another fifteen minutes before Buffy was able to extract herself from the conversation and continue up the sidewalk to her condo. At the door, she waved and thanked Betty profusely once again for the bread.

Angel listed to the conversation outside the door, lounging on the couch with his eyes shut, waiting. A moody restless energy filled him. He was anxious to see her again, to touch her yet he was fearful of the magic spell and the possible long-term effects. It was also his experience that there was always some offsetting price to be paid when magic was used. He glanced at the clock, noting the time. She was home early.

When he heard the jingle of the keys in the lock he came to his feet in a smooth, graceful motion and moved toward the door.

After a few minutes of working with the difficult lock, Buffy finally opened the door and stepped inside.

"Do you have any idea how talkative that woman is?" Buffy hastily murmured, dropping her bag by the door and shutting it behind her. "She's like, talky talkerson. I thought I would never get by her." She answered herself, letting out a small sigh of relief as she held up the loaf of bread. "Bread." She smiled up at him. "You *should* have answered the door. You're probably used to charming little old women into submission." She added with a warm smile he'd seen countless times in his memory.

"Hey." Angel greeted her softly, returning her smile. "No, I'm not quite brave enough to take on *that* woman."

"Why didn't you answer the door anyway?" She asked with a curious and amused smile, her eyes moving over his still shirtless form. "And where's your shirt?" Moving closer to him, her eyes returned to his face, "Not that I mind being met at my door by a handsome and half-naked man." She amended hastily, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.

Angel's eyes flashed briefly with resentment, his masculine prejudices still having difficulty adjusting to her teasing even though he was gradually beginning to accept the idea that she likely didn't do this often.

With a rueful smile, he explained that his sweater was in the wash.

Buffy stared at him in stunned surprise while he gave her an abbreviated version of his earlier encounter with Betty, then she laughed so hard her eyes were watering with tears when he mentioned her actual and attempted groping. "Not Betty!"  Another wave of laughter swept over her and she covered her mouth. "No wonder she's so interested in my 'young man'!" Another peal of laughter escaped her.

Angel found himself smiling at her in return, her laughter and good mood contagious. He studied her in the growing darkness of the living room. She looked like an angel, the little bit of light gleaming off her golden hair. He thought then that he should have showered her with gifts. He should have given her jewelry, more jewelry than he had.  Emeralds would have done justice to her beauty, or sapphires perhaps. But he hadn't. Angelus had. At the reminder, Angel grimaced slightly.

Buffy wiped her eyes and turned on the lamp as Angel's phone rang. She left him alone to take the call, going to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. It had been a long time since she'd laughed so hard, she thought, hearing the soft murmur of Angel's voice in the next room. It was . nice. having him around, having the company. She wouldn't be opposed to continuing things as they were - at least for a while. But Angel. he might not be comfortable with such a casual liaison.

When Angel walked into the kitchen, she looked up him and let out a soft sign of disappointment. He had retrieved his now dry clothing and was fully dressed.

"You going on patrol tonight?" Angel asked, his voice as deep and low as she remembered from former past memories and the occasional vivid dream. He shook his head when she held up her wine glass, declining the offered drink.

"Yep. Always do a quick sweep." Buffy replied, shaking off her earlier vague musings about him as she turned and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Let me help."

"That's okay. There's not many vamps or demons around these days anyway. It can be days between any real slayage." Opening the bottle of water, Buffy took a big gulp. "Course, that's not what I hear about LA."  At his conscience-stricken look, she quickly amended, "But then LA's such a big city. Lots of demons. Lots and lots. Hard to handle all of that on your own."

Silence descended over them for a few minutes while they both contemplated her words. It was true that he hadn't been doing everything he could to keep the demon population under control - he'd be the first to admit it. However, it embarrassed him to know that Buffy knew that too.

After a few minutes, Angel finally found his voice. "Why don't I take the part of town west of the Bronze, you can take the east."

"Really, Angel, it's not necessary. I'm used to doing this on my own."

He hesitated for a few minutes feeling somewhat disconsolate at the reminder that he'd left her to do everything on her own. And she'd shown them all that she was more than capable of handling just about anything that came her way. Her reputation as the best Slayer to have lived was more than deserved.

"Well, then why don't you take all of town and I'll take on the grocery store." He said with a small smile, shifting on his feet and putting his hands in his pockets. "I'd like to cook you dinner tonight - if you don't have plans."

Buffy smiled at him, pleased with his capitulation on the slaying and certainly not unhappy with the idea of sharing a little more time with him.

"I do have to go back to LA tonight, but before I go we have to talk." Angel said with a small sigh. "Okay?"

"Sure." Buffy replied, remembering the few occasions that he had cooked for her after a night of patrol and slaying. They were pleasant memories of simple and happier times; she wasn't opposed to making another memory like that.

"Besides, I make a mean shrimp scampi - or so I'm told." Angel smiled and winked at her. A gesture so out of character for him that it took her by surprise. Her smiled widened and she nodded.

After Buffy changed her clothes, donning her typical cotton shirt and jeans for slaying, Angel met her at the door. He held her jacket while she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

"Be careful." His voice was soft as velvet as he turned and shrugged into his own coat, studying her under his lashes.

"Always." Buffy replied brightly, checking her bag for stakes.

"You have your headphones?" Angel asked with fluid calm. He could have been asking if she had her stakes and other weapons.

"Yes." She looked up at him suspiciously, her brows quirking upward slightly as she recalled his comment about the dangers of slaying with her headphones. She reached in the bag and held up her CD player to show him.

He shrugged, trying his best to maintain an expression of innocence on his face.

"See you in about an hour or so." Buffy said finally, opening the door.

"Okay." Instinctively he bent and kissed her softly on the lips. He followed her out the door, then turned in the opposite direction, adjusting his collar as he disappeared into the darkness.

Buffy turned on her CD player and adjusted her headphones over her ears. She really didn't expect to find anything worth her time tonight, but a quick sweep of the cemeteries and known demon hangouts never hurt.

Turning up the volume, she began to sing along quietly with the already playing song. "You probably think that I hold resentment for you,"  She rounded the corner, "But, uh uh, oh no, you're wrong," then crossed the street quickly, turning left. "'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do." Pausing, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder, her voice sounding a little louder on the quiet Sunnydale street as she continued, "I wouldn't know just how capable I am to pull through, so I wanna say thank you-"

She stopped again, turning to look behind her and peering down the street. "'Cause it makes me that much stronger," Shrugging, she resumed her walk and her song. "Makes me work a little bit harder."

"It makes me that much wiser," Whirling around, she kicked out with her leg and connected solidly with the demon behind her, "So thanks for making me a fighter." The demon fell back into the bushes as Buffy advanced, still singing along to the music playing through her headphones, "Made me learn a little bit faster, made my skin a little bit thicker" Grabbing he demon from the front of the shirt, she yanked him forward and drew back her fist, slamming it squarely into the demon's nose. "Makes me that much smarter, so thanks for making me a fighter."

She pulled him forward again as she reached in her waistband for her stake. Her fist froze in mid-swing and her eyes widened with recognition.

Angel had only just returned from the grocery store, having admittedly skulked carefully back to Buffy's condo to take every precaution to avoid another encounter with Betty, when he heard Buffy open the door.

He glanced up in surprise as Lorne followed her into the kitchen, his head tilted back and clutching his bloody nose.

Angel stifled a groan, wondering what Lorne had said to her and how he was going to explain the green demon's prescence to Buffy. Was nothing going to go his way in his quest to get her back?

"She hit me!" Lorne wailed pitifully, looking at Angel through his fingers as he continued to hold his head back.

"Hello, demon lurking in the dark and following me." Buffy shot him an irritated look out of the corner of her eye as she continued on into the kitchen. She glanced over at Angel. "I had no idea it was a friend of yours until after I hit him."

Angel nodded hesitantly, shooting Lorne both a worried and exasperated look.

"Let me get you some ice." She grumbled, brushing past Angel and opening the fridge. She pressed a bag of ice into Lorne's hand along with some paper towels.

"I'm gonna go change." She stated as she left the room.

"Sorry." Lorne whispered conspiratorially to Angel after Buffy was gone, "But ouch."

"I told you not to let her see you." Angel replied in an angry whisper, returning his attention to unpacking the groceries that he bought.

"She caught me by surprise, Angel-face. What can I say?"  Lorne sat heavily in the chair, "Oh, god. Is it still bleeding? And what are you doing, my domestic dumpling?"

"Cooking dinner." Angel snapped in reply, opening the cabinets and searching for a cutting board. Finally finding one, he sat it on the counter along with a knife that he took out of the drawer.

Buffy retuned to the kitchen, having changed into a pair of light blue velour sweats with the word "juicy" written across the butt and a short, white baby t-shirt. The waist of the worn sweats were rolled down on her hips revealing a teasing glimpse of her abdomen as she walked, causing a significant rise in Angel's eyebrows, not to mention a significant rise in another part of his body.

"Uh, aren't you going to be cold in that?" Angel lifted a brow as she stopped next to him, then cast a warning look at Lorne.

"What? This? No. It's fine." She replied casually, looking down at her outfit and plucking a small piece of lint off her breast before soothing a hand over her stomach.

Angel swallowed hard at the minute touch of her hand on her body and felt another rush of blood to his growing arousal. With effort, he dragged his eyes away from her torso and turned back to what he was doing.

Lorne studied Buffy covertly as she poured a glass of wine then peeked over Angel's shoulder at what he was now expertly chopping up. She wrinkled her nose and Angel playfully brushed it with his knuckles before shooing her away. She stuck her tongue out at him and then sat at the table across from Lorne.

The Host then took in Angel's demeanor; the playfulness with her that he'd rarely ever shown, the way the vampire's eyes followed Buffy with a heated regard that was so intense it was almost palpable. The attraction that was radiating from him for the girl was loud and clear, almost screaming.

A growing sense of unease was building as he watched them together. Buffy's tiny golden beauty was a perfect foil for Angel's tall darkness. How could he ever have thought that Cordelia and Angel-?  Lorne felt as if he had been the victim of a prank, having thought that the two of them. He shook off the feeling, finding it uncomfortable. He hated being wrong, and boy, had he been wrong. Very wrong. Wronger than wrong. But there was hope yet, that Angel and his Buffy would work things out.

"How'd you know he was a friend of mine?" Angel asked, turning the stove on and tossing garlic and butter in the pan to sauté.

Buffy paused, holding the wine glass to her lips. Her mind flashed back to the day in the magic shop: Lorne's voice ringing out happily through the store about Angel and Cordelia and their reconciliation. How perfect they were together, how right they were for each other. True Love. Fate. Destiny.

At her silence, Angel turned back to look at her. "Buffy?"

"Um, well." Buffy took a drink, wavering slightly as she considered what she would say with both Lorne and Angel's eyes on her now. "I saw him once. When I was in LA."

"Oh no, my little lemon tart, I would have remembered you." Lorne insisted, wiggling his nose with his fingers and sniffing slightly. "I never forget a face that crossed my path at Caritas."

"Uh, no it wasn't there." Buffy replied, dropping her eyes and leaning forward on the chair.

Angel watched her shrewdly; had she been by the hotel? Had she seen him? If so, when?

With a shrug of her shoulder, Buffy finally said, "It was at a magic shop. You were with another guy and er, talking about Angel. Not knowing many Angels - um, people named Angel that is, and not many Angel's and Cordelia's that would be mentioned in the same sentence I guessed that maybe it was the same guy." She paused, a glimmer of a memory stirring at the reminder of that day, the words that had been said, the pain that she had felt. It seemed a dream now. The memory was there but not the associated feelings.  "Well, let's just say that sorta narrowed things down and I guessed."

"Really, pumpkin? How would I have ever missed you?" Lorne questioned, crossing his legs and adjusting the ice bag on his face. "And Angel, puddin', that smells absolutely scrumptious!"  Glancing back at Buffy, the Host continued his questioning, "When was this?"

"Years ago. Three probably, maybe more. I was there on a research gig, not really a social thing." Buffy's eyes shifted suspiciously over to Angel, even as she directed her question to the demon sitting at her table. "So, what are you doing in Sunnydale anyway?"

"Oh, well, I had some stuff - some papers - for tall, dark and broody here to sign. Work stuff really."

"Really? And you were following me down the street because. ?" Her eyes went from the green demon to Angel again, only this time the tall vampire was turned away from her tending the food on the stove.

"Oh, well, I couldn't just let a pretty young girl walk out on the streets alone. Never know what kind of big bad you might run into. Could be a sexual predator, honey-bun, or worse. Of course, I had no idea you might have been more than capable of taking care of yourself - which, may I just say, ow."  Lorne lied glibly, settling comfortably into the chair.

"Let me take care of those *papers* Lorne, so you can get back to LA." With the pasta on to cook as well as the shrimp, Angel turned back to face the two of them at the table. Giving Lorne a meaningful look he nodded toward the door. He wanted to get the green demon out of Buffy's condo as soon as possible - certainly before he slipped up any more than he already had. "I'll be right back, Buffy."

"Okay." Buffy shrugged, taking another sip of her wine and reaching for the mail that she had brought in earlier.

"Well?" He asked immediately as they stepped out the front door and walked around the corner towards the Host's sparkle-orange painted Miata.

"You know, I have to say, you and the little golden Twinkie there are just perf-"

"I don't want your reading on her, on anything to do with us, I told you that already." Angel held up his hand, his voice almost a snarl. "All I need from you is a read on the magic. What can you tell me?" 

Slightly dumbfounded, Lorne adjusted his sleeves somewhat indignantly. "The well, my amaretto torte, is that your little popsicle there appears to be frozen solid. I see what looks to be solid blue sheet of ice thicker than thick surrounding her sweet little candy heart."

"And?" Angel insisted. He asked Lorne to see what he could tell about the magic spell and what the demon could tell about her emotions. He was particularly wanted to find out if her emotions were still accessible.  "Is it permanent?

 "Course, it was only a quick read. and her choice of tunes? You've got one wounded dove there, my friend. Great song though, love that Christina. What a voice." Lorne opened the car door, then glanced at Angel's impatient face. With a shrug, the Host stopped his babble and answered the question, "Honestly? I don't know. But I can tell you this - I could see the smallest crack there."

Angel nodded thoughtfully, watching as Lorne drove off. If it cracked, then it could break. That was something. Now he just needed Nikkos.

****

Angel returned to the house and finished cooking dinner, he and Buffy chatting amiably about various topics as he cooked and she sat at the table sorting through her mail and drinking wine.

He served her dinner and cleaned up while she ate, then joined her at the table. They sat together companionably in her small kitchen, Angel watching as Buffy finished off the last of the plate of pasta. He had no doubt that she didn't eat as much or as often as she should, a feeling that sparked his protectiveness, an innate need to take care of her.

"This is wonderful." Buffy exclaimed, popping the last bite of shrimp into her mouth and closing her eyes as if to savor the decadent flavor. "I haven't had anything this good since. since I don't know when. I can't thank you enough."

"I'm glad you like it," Angel indulgently replied, taking another sip of the red wine she insisted on pouring for him. "There's dessert too."

"Really?" She opened her eyes and looked at him, smiling brightly as she jumped up from her chair. The muffled exclamation of delight coming from behind him as she peered into the refrigerator brought a smile to his face and he mentally noted that he'd have to bring her sweets more often.

"Here, let me take that." He took the cake plate from her, setting the chocolate frosted confection on the table as she plucked one of the decorative flowers off the top and popped it into her mouth. She turned and grabbed a plate out of the cabinet.

"Ummm. this is sinful." Buffy murmured, reaching for another of the sugary flowers before cutting a piece of cake and sliding it on the plate.

With startling clarity that would have mystified his demon and his friends, he wished to arrest this moment in time, finding an almost ethereal enjoyment in Buffy's enchanting beauty and her obvious delight in such a simple pleasure.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight. He hated to spoil the mood, but he had to talk with her before heading back to LA.

"Buffy. I was wrong to leave you."

"Angel-" Buffy murmured, her mouth full of cake, a slight smear of chocolate at the corner of her lips.

"Let me finish. I have to say to say this." His eyes were grave, his voice low, constrained.

"Okay." Buffy licked away the chocolate smear and Angel suddenly felt that he had been cheated, despite the fact that he probably wouldn't enjoy the sweet anyway. It sparked a brief memory of the day that wasn't, the day that he had tasted chocolate from her lips, delighting in the taste.

"My relationship with Cordelia .  I just fell into it without really thinking. Connor was born and she was there." He paused, watching her face carefully for any nuance of her feelings. "It was nice, you know, sharing it with someone, having someone to lean on. Afterwards it seemed that everyone was pushing us together - Fred and Lorne with the whole key'rumption thing, the incident at the ballet. It was like everyone expected it to happen."

Buffy nodded slightly, an almost imperceptible movement.

"I wanted something, I guess. A relationship, maybe." He shrugged slightly, glancing around the room as if looking for something in the sparse kitchen that would help clarify his words, his feelings. Then, turning back to her he murmured, "I knew even before she and I became involved that she had slept with Connor. I saw them together. I should have known that she continued to sleep with him these last few years, but I don't think I wanted to know. Or maybe I just didn't care."

He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his eyes.

"Angel-" She said quietly, feeling the anguish in his voice.

"I should have said something but I didn't. I'm not sure why." He continued as if she hadn't spoken, "Maybe I didn't want to rock the boat with either of them since my relationship with Connor was so strained."

Buffy only watched him, uncertain of what to say.

"Buffy, he had so much hatred in him. So much hatred for me."

"Oh, Angel." She whispered at the obvious pain in his voice. "I'm sorry."

"I was lost for awhile, then I simply grew.complacent. I'm ashamed now of what I've let myself become."

"It's okay Angel. I understand." Buffy interrupted, reaching a hand across the table to touch him on the arm. "We weren't part of each others lives anymore. You had every right to move on." She paused, smiling sardonically. "Or down, in the case of Cordelia."

He grimaced and Buffy shrugged and mouthed the word "Sorry" with a small smile.

"I never should have lost sight of the fact that I love you. That I've always loved you."

Her smile disappeared and he thought that he'd lost her with his candor.

She shifted nervously on her chair. A hush descended on them as Buffy searched in vain for her feelings. She remembered that she loved him once, but she no longer felt it. It no longer consumed her, filling her every thought and every feeling, threatening to send her shattering into a thousand tiny pieces at any moment. He had given her more joy and more pain than anything else she had ever had in her life, yet now she only had a vague memory of those feelings instead of the feelings themselves. So that left her where?  What did she feel for him now? Attraction? Yes. Physical desire? Yes, definitely.

Taking in her discomfiture at his avowal, Angel's eyes seemed to suddenly impale her with their sharp gaze. "Tell me about the spell, Buffy. Why did you do it?" His voice was hushed.

"Don't start that again." Buffy sighed heavily, refusing to meet his eyes as she reached for the bottle of wine.

"I know you used magic - to what? Break the bond between us?"  He asked quietly, his eyes restive and moody. "Why Buffy? Why did you do it?"

He sounds so certain. How does he know? Buffy finally looked up at him, having refilled her glass. She shook her head slowly, toying with the crumbs remaining on her plate. "It doesn't matter Angel. Just let it go."

"Buffy, please, talk to me." He fervently murmured, "Tell me why."

"Why are you so sure about magic?" She asked quietly, her large hazel green eyes dominating her face as she looked up at him.

His eyes scanned her neck in lazy perusal and she lifted her hand to the missing mark almost unconsciously, hiding it - or rather the lack of it - from his view. He thought for a moment.

"For one thing, the mark - it's gone." Angel asserted softly as he reached across the table to take her hand. "I've lived a long time Buffy. I've seen a lot of things. I can recognize the presence of certain types of magic. And this," He lifted her hand, his eyes staring at hers as he ran his thumb across the vine tattoo on her finger. "is a sign. A talisman."

Buffy tugged on her hand but he refused to release it.

So what, he knows. What did she have to hide anyway? She wasn't ashamed of what she had done. In fact, quite the contrary. Her life had improved considerably since she'd done the spell. She may have drifted apart from her friends, but it probably would have happened anyway. And Giles. Well, Giles had left her long before the spell. It didn't matter to her that she didn't have a significant other in her life. All of her relationships had ended in heartbreak and tears anyway.  No, she was happy now. Well, if not happy then content at least. It was the best she could expect.

"Look, Angel, you have everything you ever wanted in LA. A flourishing business. Money in the bank. Friends. Family. Love. You even have a son, Angel. In short, you have *a normal life.*  I had nothing. I had a crappy job at a burger joint, then another crappy job as a school counselor, a sister I was trying to raise on my own, friends that would send me out to face evil but not trust me to make my own decisions about my life, not to mention tons of bills from months of slayerettes staying at my house eating my food." She paused and took a breath, "No one pays me for slaying night after night. I have no business cards with my name on them, no seer with visions to warn me about the next big bad evil that I'll have to face. There are no trophies or rewards from apocalypses prevented, no expectations about moving up the ladder in my career, no grand plans about the future ahead of me. There's no toy surprise, no great reward waiting for me when this is all over."

Buffy took a drink of her wine and soothed her hair. She didn't blame him for the Shanshu prophecy; quite the contrary - she hoped very much for his sake that he found his redemption and got his reward.

"All I get, Angel, is what you see now. Until one day I die and I'm replaced by the next girl that has to give up her life, her love, maybe even her happiness for something that's bigger than herself." She finished almost in a fury.

Angel was completely focused on her, the dark brown of his eyes darker with remorse, guilt and something unfathomable and more than a little alarming. His eyes were narrowed under the slant of his brow, a pained slash darkening his features. She didn't deserve to be so alone, so detached from life, from love.

"So one day you just decided to use magic to close yourself off?" He questioned abruptly, almost angrily. How could she, the girl so full of life, so full of love, have wanted so much to close herself off from it? Buffy had always been emotional, impulsive. Something prompted her to act. "I don't buy that Buffy. You always believed that your emotions gave you an edge."

"You said you wanted the truth, Angel. I'm telling you the truth." She bluntly replied, then added in a soft whisper, "In all honesty, I was tired of the heartache."

He said nothing, only waited for her to continue.

"Look, after the whole thing with the First Evil. I was going to make things work with Spike, I really was. I mean, he seemed to care about me. And I thought it would be good thing. But then he left-" Buffy broke off abruptly, her fingers gripping the stem of her wine glass tightly. Why was she telling him this?

Spike?!  She did the spell because she was heartbroken over Spike? Or because she wanted Spike and for them to truly bond, his bond would have to be broken... Angel's heart wrenched in his chest as the implication of his thoughts reverberated though his mind and into his heart.

"You broke our bond because you wanted Spike?" He bit out angrily, his hands now braced flat on the table.

"No. God, no. Of course not. I mean, I really *like* Spike and he was there for me when I needed him. But- it wasn't love. As in *love* love." Buffy looked up at him with annoyance, as if unable to believe that Angel would even suggest such a thing. "He left after."

Angel shook his head slightly as if trying to clear his thoughts. "You're not making sense."

"I don't have to make sense Angel. We've already been over this. Besides, may I remind you that I'm not really any of your business any more? You left me, *remember* that?"

"Look, Buffy-"

"Look Angel. I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's of the past. No need to dredge it up and muck around in it like-like muck. What's done is done, okay?"  Standing, she walked around the table to stand next to his chair.  "Why does it matter now anyway?" 

He shifted, turning in his chair to look up at her, and she smiled at him slightly, reaching out to run her hand through the thick mass of his dark hair, gliding her fingers along his cheek.

She studied his expression for a moment before nudging his knees apart with one of her own so she could move to stand between them.

"Look, it really doesn't matter now." Buffy murmured against his lips, bending down slightly. "And we can still be friends..."

He tasted the wine on her lips as she kissed him and he wondered for the briefest second if she'd had too much to drink. It was, perhaps, another attempt to rationalize his jealous anger when faced with her sexual assertiveness.

"I don't think so." He whispered softly, reaching out to rest his hands on the warm patch of exposed skin on her waist. His gaze at her was fitful, volatile as he struggled with his feelings; wanting to control the raging desire that rose hot and hard within him at her slightest touch.

"No?" Her palms lay flat on his shoulders, the familiar feel of him sparking a welcome rush of desire. "Why not?"

His brows drew together in a scowl. He didn't want to be friends. He wanted more than that from her. He pulled her hard against him, his hands going around her back, his fingertips skimming just inside the waist of her sweats.

Silence descended over them while she surveyed the dark beauty of his face, wondering if she could convince him that they could be friends, lovers even if he'd allow it. If he were going to be difficult about it, well, then she would let him walk out the door.  It wasn't as if she needed him in her life. Wanted him in her bed? Yes. A complicated, messy relationship? No.

"I came here because I don't want to live without you anymore," Angel said at last.

"See, friends then." Buffy softly replied, her hands moving over his shoulders, stroking the nape of his neck and playing with the short hairs at his nape. Teasingly, she smiled "Lovers?"

"I should probably go."

"But you won't."  She lifted one knee and glided it along the firm muscles in his outer thigh.

"No." He replied softly, knowing that he would not be denied any part of her that he could have. A grudging displeasure lodged in his mind however because he wanted more than just her body; he wanted her love.

"Good." She smiled as her lips brushed his brow, her fingers caressing his neck. "Because I wasn't going to let you go just yet."  His hands felt cool on her waist as he pushed her shirt up slightly, feeling the heat of her skin burning into his palms.

He looked at her without speaking, his eyes roving over her. Suddenly he stood and swept her into his arms in one smooth motion.

Carrying her into the bedroom, he sat her on her feet.

Rising up on her toes, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss.

They kissed for long minutes, his lips nipping at hers. She sucked gently on his tongue when he slipped it into her mouth and pressed even closer to him as he slid one hand down her back to her bottom. Squeezing her firm flesh, he adjusted her more tightly against him.

Buffy obligingly helped as he removed her clothing, stopping frequently for kisses as if he could not get enough of the taste of her and running his hands over her as if he could not get enough of the feel of her. When she was finally standing before him nude, all of her beauty revealed to his gaze, he lowered his head and kissed her again, a hot, hungry kiss, and began walking her slowly back to the bed as he interlaced his fingers with hers.

When they reached the bed, Buffy sat down, watching him under her lashes as he undressed. She smiled and reached her arms up to him when he joined her, once more taking her mouth in a hungry, plundering kiss. Changing the slant of his head as he settled between her legs, Angel kissed her deeply, pressing her into more firmly into the bed with his weight. She undulated beneath him, heated and eager, as she trapped his hips firmly between her thighs, running her feet along his legs.

The delicate scent of vanilla rose around them as her skin heated. Buffy clung to him, her tongue boldly exploring his mouth as his hand slid up her waist to capture her breast. He kneaded the firm flesh, squeezing and cupping her breast in his palm gently. At her low whimper, he lifted his head and pressed hot licking kisses along her cheek, sliding down her throat to her collarbone to finally stop at the pebble of her nipple. Buffy dropped her head back, exposing her throat and arching her back. He laved the hard tip of her nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth.

His lips and tongue moved over her breasts teasing first one then the other aching tip until both were taut rigid peaks. He used his teeth to bite gently, sending sharp sensations of lust streaking through her. When he drew one crest deeply into his mouth, Buffy whimpered, the small erratic sounds breaking the silence of the quiet room. The low fire that had started within her now burned hot.

As he suckled her breasts, Angel's hands roamed over her in exploration, tracing every dip and curve. The firm muscles of her back, her tiny delicate ribs, the flatness of her abdomen, the strong muscles of her thighs, her arms, the delicate arch of her feet, her bottom - no part of her escaped his attention, his touch.

"Kiss me." Returning his lips to hers, Angel brushed his lips across hers as he smoothed her hair back from her face with one hand. Buffy responded immediately, parting her lips and meeting his. He kissed her with soft playful kisses as his chest brushed across her sensitized nipples.

Buffy sank her fingers into his hair, toying with the thick mass before sliding her nails along his nape in a gentle, scraping caress. With flat palms she traced the corded muscles of his shoulders, moving down his arms and stopping to squeeze the flexed muscles of his biceps as he leaned over her. When she felt the velvety hard tip of his shaft brush her thigh, she lifted her hips in invitation. When he finally slid inside her, sheathing himself fully, her arms went around his back to pull him closer. She relished the sensation of her breasts pressed against the cool, hard muscles of his chest. Planting hot wet kisses on his neck, she lifted her chin, her lips searching for his as her kisses grew more feverish and demanding; the wild rush of pleasure shooting through her.

Angel's only response was to kiss her deeply while continuing to move inside her slowly, deliberately, his hands stroking her hips, cupping her bottom and lifting her to meet each thrust. Again he was seized with that familiar sense of possession. Buffy was his and his alone, he licentiously reflected, and he was keeping her this time.

She whimpered, enthralled by the feel of his hardness sliding slick and deep within her. Lifting her legs, she locked her ankles over his lower back, allowing him to thrust into her deeper bringing them ever closer to that pinnacle of pleasure.

They panted and groaned, each soft sound adding to the growing sense of urgency until they both finally exploded. When the first starburst hit her, Buffy keened softly and clutched him close, lost in the heart-stopping glorious sensations of orgasm. Her world at the moment consisted of nothing more than feeling - Angel, his body, under her hands, the scalding heat within her.

Angel released a guttural groan as he joined Buffy in climax, his release so profound that he could not remember having felt such unrestrained, heated desire. He sighed heavily as the spiraling threads ecstasy radiated throughout his body.

As the heated waves of passion slowly ebbed, Angel sighed and looked at the clock. He had to leave or risk being caught by the dawn on his drive to LA. Kissing her lightly on the head, he uncurled his arm from beneath her and rose.

When he turned back to the bed fully dressed, he sighed, looking down at Buffy as she lay on her side amidst the rumpled sheets in languid repose, her elbow resting on the bed, her head propped up on her hand.

"We have to talk about this. about us." Angel murmured in a hushed whisper.

"Angel. It doesn't have to be about anything." Buffy smiled up at him. She was sated, her senses replete. It was better than anything she'd felt in years - and when he left her again, as he eventually would, there would be no gut wrenching, heartbreaking, tear-you-apart-inside pain.  "Come see me when you can." 

"I don't like the casual sound of that." His voice was curt even as he lifted a tendril of her hair and let is slide through his fingers.

"I'm sorry, lover. Don't misunderstand me." Buffy sat up and grasped his hand, squeezing it slightly and pressing it to her cheek. "I just meant I'd be glad to see you any time. You're always welcome here." 

After the years that they had spent apart, he couldn't stand the thought of having her casually leave his life again.  And for a man who had left her to find exactly that, he found he couldn't bear the thought of another man touching her again. Ever.  He exhaled softly exhaled. "I don't want that. I want more." 

Bending low, he kissed her gently on the lips. "I'll see you in a couple of days. I have to take care of some things, then I'll be back."  Pressing a last soft kiss to her lips, then one to her cheek, he smiled slightly. "I'll call you later."

 

 

 

Part IX

 

Angel slowed the GTX as he neared the Hyperion, noting a movement in the shadows just to the left of the hotel. Cutting the lights on the car, he eased the car into a spot along the curb and braked to a halt. He sat motionless for several minutes, his eyes scanning the hotel and the surrounding area. The neighborhood was a mix of run-down and restored buildings, many of which were vacant, a collection of parked cars, some of which had been abandoned long ago, and darkened streets. After five years Angel knew each building, each winding alleyway and most of the local residents by sight. At least those residents that tended to roam the vicinity under the moonlight with other creatures of the night.

Like a predator his eyes inspected the area, methodically reassessing each section before moving on to the next. Patience, he'd learned over the years, could be the difference between living and dying.  Headlights shone along the side of the building, then Cordelia's jeep came into view.  She turned left, away from him. He watched until the taillights disappeared from view before he opened his car door. Moving into the deepest shadows, he stealthily made his way into the hotel.

Crossing the marble floor of the lobby quietly, he paused at the counter to pick up his messages before heading up the stairs. He stopped first by Connor's room, unlocking the door and opening it a narrow half-inch before peering inside. Connor lay on a blanket on the floor, his head resting on a stack of books topped off with a pillow and baby Amelia gurgling happily on his chest. He pushed the door open further, his gaze drifting over the occupants, a single lamp the only light in the room.

Fred was curled up on Connor's bed, having falling into an exhausted sleep after feeding the baby a short while ago. Too frightened to stay in their rooms alone, she had crept quietly to Connor's room with Amelia just after her husband had left to investigate a sighting of a suspicious creature just off Crenshaw.

"Everything okay?" Angel asked in a hushed whisper, a small smile curving his lips as Amelia giggled when Connor bounced her gently. He was genuinely surprised to see anyone else in the room beside his son.

"Yeah." Connor replied quietly with a small shrug, lifting a leg to show off his still attached ankle chain.

Gunn had clearly taken his instructions to keep Connor locked up very seriously. Although, he probably would have been disappointed to know that his own wife, despite his warning to keep her distance, had kept the young man company for the better part of the night, not to mention had passed their daughter into his arms without hesitation when he asked to hold her. At the moment, Gunn trusted neither Connor nor Cordelia.

"Where's Gunn?" Angel asked with a trace of alarm in his voice.

"Checking out some demon sighting or something. Got a call a little while ago." Connor replied calmly, shifting his position slightly on the floor and adjusting Amelia on his lap.

Slightly vexed as to what to do, Angel considered whether he should talk to Connor now or wait until later, when Cordelia returned to the hotel.

"Get some sleep." Connor said, as if understanding Angel's dilemma. He made a face at Amelia then smiled when she let out what sounded like a hiccup and looked like a smile. His eyes returned again to his father's face.  "We can talk later."

After a few minutes, Angel nodded. "Gunn will worry if they're not in their room when he gets back."

"I know." Connor agreed quietly, glancing toward Fred's sleeping figure. "He didn't want her here but she said she was afraid to stay alone. And then.well, she just fell asleep. I didn't want to wake her." He shrugged slightly as his voice trailed off.

Debating the various reasons why Fred might be afraid to stay alone in the room she'd lived in with Gunn for the last few years and coming up with an answer that he didn't like, Angel's eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together in irritation.

Sighing, Angel stepped into the room and gently lifted the still sleeping Fred into his arms. He carried her down the hall to her room, then returned and retrieved the finally drowsy Amelia.  As he laid the small baby down in her crib, the crib that had once been Connor's, he glanced down at her affectionately. Her presence in the hotel, in his life touched him profoundly. It made him feel that much more connected to humanity, that much more closer to redemption yet at the same time that much farther away from it all. 

He smiled slightly as Amelia let out a sleepy gurgle, then soothed her hair and tucked her blanket around her a little more snugly. For a moment he was reminded of Connor as a baby, not so many years ago and yet a lifetime now. Holtz had robbed them both of so much. He'd scarcely dared to believe that he would have the chance to be a father - then to have Connor practically ripped out of his arms. They had both been cheated out of so much. it hardly seemed fair, but then, that was his life. He expected no less - it was all part of the price he had to pay for his atonement, his redemption.

What would Buffy's child look like? What would their child look like? The thought seemingly came out of nowhere and slammed him in the gut, reminding him again of what he could not have. What he would not know. It was another price to be paid for his weakness as Liam, for the late night skirt chasing drunken stroll in the alleyway that had cost him his humanity.

Had that not happened, you wouldn't have been here to meet the Slayer, you fool. Angel shrugged almost imperceptibly at the thought, adjusting the baby's stuffed animals around her in the crib. No, he would have found her. Somehow, someway, no matter the time or distance. They were meant to be. If only he could offer her more than demons and darkness.

Forcefully pushing aside his disappointment, Angel quietly left the room, closing the door firmly behind him and locking it with the master key. He passed by Connor's room once more and said good night, then made his way down the hall.

As Angel crossed into his own suite of rooms, his attention turned to the tasks ahead. First and foremost he wanted to see Nikkos, but that would have to wait until after sundown. In the meantime, he needed to deal with Cordelia and Connor.

He wasn't looking forward to what he knew would prove to be an angry and difficult confrontation with the seer after the things that Connor had told him. When originally faced with the evidence of her treachery, he had first believed that it had been limited to his personal interest in the Slayer. That her jealously of Buffy had been the initial catalyst for her lies, lies that were further fueled by her own insecurities and vanity and later his own complacent slip into a relationship with her.

In no way did any of that excuse the fact that she had clearly turned into a murderer. If not by her own hand, then certainly her creation of the 'Slayer Elimination Tournament' classified her as one without debate. Not only did she seek to murder Buffy but she also had set up his own son to take the fall for her. Admittedly, he was skeptical of the degree of Connor's innocence in the scheme but he didn't doubt that the seer was the mastermind behind it all.

And if Connor were to be believed, her duplicity extended far beyond just driving a wedge between he and Buffy. She was quite likely responsible for the injury and death of more people that he knew, for Kate's coma. Wesley.

He stripped off his clothing in the dark, his mind turning over the things that Connor had told him on the phone: the toxic I'lera demon that had slunk into Atlas Toys down on Vine; the vampire nest that Kate and her team had tried to take out on their own - both visions that Cordelia had but chose not to share for reasons he had yet to understand. He closed his eyes against the persistent guilt that swept over him, that ate at him, not allowing him to forget that in both cases he should have been there. He should have done something, anything to prevent what had happened.

The I'lera demon had left nearly a dozen children badly injured with chemical burns. Two of them died later and several of them were horribly scarred and had to undergo reconstructive surgery. Four children had never been found and the I'lera had escaped into the sewers. It slunk into a pre-school two days later, which fortunately had been closed for the day so the I'lera was denied any additional prey. He and Gunn had tracked the demon for three more days before they were finally able to trap it just on the edge of Sylmar park and destroy it.

As he started the shower, he recalled that night that the I'lera demon attacked clearly in his mind. It had been the night of Mr. Nabbitt's Christmas party. Cordelia had wanted to go, but he had not. She was breathing erratically when she came down the stairs, anxious to go but he had made her sit for a few minutes, worried about her health. She adamantly shook him off, muttering something about "Not tonight. Nuh-uh, no way, forget it. I want fun. I need fun. And no way is that happening in my new shoes."  The words that made no sense to him at the time now chilled him when he thought that she had likely foreseen the demon, but had chosen not to tell him or anyone else at AI about it simply because she was more interested in her own fun and not despoiling new shoes.

Stepping into the shower, he attempted to shake off the memories in the relaxing heat of the water, but the other things that Connor had told him refused to go away. They clung to his mind like tentacles, wrapping around his thoughts and stubbornly demanding attention.

Was Connor telling the truth when he said that he had overheard a call from someone named Kate Lockley, and that she had pleaded for help to take out a vicious and brutal group of vampires but Cordelia never bothered to pass along the message?  

He heard the events of that night second hand through another detective on the force, Vic Mackey. Kate and her team had been brutally mauled, two of them had died and Kate herself had been left in a coma. That had been just over four months ago now. They still didn't know yet whether or not she would recover.

Shaking the soap and water out of his eyes, Angel rinsed quickly before switching off the water and reaching for a towel.  After drying off, he pulled on his black sweats and a t-shirt then padded across the room to the bed. He sat heavily down on the thick mattress and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

The reason he was in LA was redemption. It was about helping people find their way, about protecting them and others in the process. He'd thought once that he was succeeding, or at the very least making progress. Now he wondered if he were helping at all. For every person that he had helped or every good deed that he had done, his seer had quite possibly offset that with an inflicted harm or evil deed.

His eyes focused suddenly on the small scraps of paper resting on the night table near the bed. As recognition of the object dawned, he growled deep in his chest, angrily, unknowingly. The picture that he had left there of Buffy had been ripped into tiny bits. His eyes flickered with gold highlights as he stood abruptly and strode through his suite of rooms and out into the hall. It was the last straw. Yanking open the door to Cordelia's room, he glanced inside. It was still and quiet.

Logically he'd known that she'd left the hotel earlier, but there was the slightest possibility that she had returned and he hadn't heard her. Impetuously he grabbed one of her precious Lladro figurines off the nearby shelf and hurled it at the wall. It crashed and shattered into pieces, the sound nowhere near appeasing the rage that was boiling just under the surface. He grabbed a second and a third figure, tossing them just as hard and watching them explode into tiny bits from the force of his throw.  He stood deathly still for a long moment, his tongue raking across his teeth and testing the sharpness of the fangs that had appeared along with his demon visage. After another moment, he turned and left the room slamming the door hard behind him.

***

Unable to sleep, Angel wandered to the kitchen and opened a bag of blood. He hadn't fed in Sunnydale, and if nothing else, it would kill some time. Walking back into his bedroom, he stopped and stared at the trunk along the wall. After a brief pause, he opened it and searched through the contents until he found what he was looking for. Carefully he drew out a leather bound journal. It was a Watchers Journal of Wesley's that had been delivered to the hotel along with a box of his other belongings not long after his death, 2 years ago now.

Angel wasn't sure why he kept the weathered journal, given that his relationship with the former Watcher had never been repaired after Wes had stolen Connor and given him to Holtz. Rather, when the package had arrived one day from Wes's former landlord, Angel had simply opened it and, after realizing what it was, he extracted the journal and tucked it into the trunk with his other keepsakes. Cordelia has been out shopping that day; when she returned she shipped the rest of the items off to goodwill without a backward glance.

He smiled slightly as he turned the book over in his hands. When Wesley had first shown up in LA as a "Rogue Demon Hunter" Angel had almost laughed. But in the following years, the prissy watcher had proven himself to be smart, persistent and extremely determined in his chosen craft.

With a twinge of regret, Angel opened the journal and flipped through the entries. The first few notations were about Wes's last days in Sunnydale, about the Mayor's demise and the 'impertinent but remarkable' Slayer, Buffy. Wesley had written with meticulous detail every conversation, every meaning and every possible strategy that had been discussed or considered.

Angel chuckled at Wes's description of Buffy, but sobered slightly as he read the former Watcher's point of view about 'the vampire's' illness when Faith had shot him with the poisoned arrow along with Buffy's unwavering determination to save him. The council's refusal to help had led to her decision to quit the council, a decision that Giles apparently supported much to Wes's dismay.  He'd known, of course, that she'd broken off with the council around that time but he had believed that it had been because of a difference in opinion on their strategy to deal with the Mayor's ascension. Here was another showing of her steadfast support, of her love. He grimaced at the reminder, vowing that he would one day make up for the lack of devotion he had shown her in return.

Flipping forward a few pages, he scanned various notes about some early cases that they had worked on together, about the Scrolls of Aberjaan. his possible Shanshu.  He skipped ahead, not wanting to read the details, unwilling to get his hopes up just yet for something that may or may not come to pass.

Several pages later he was surprised when he came across a rather personal entry regarding Faith. Apparently Wesley had begun to visit Faith in jail some years after she had been imprisoned. He had never gotten over his feelings of responsibility for her and he deeply regretted the way things had turned out for her in Sunnydale. With renewed purpose, he had gone to see her, determined to help her any way he could.  After several months of visits, he admitted that he thought himself to be in love with her, and that perhaps she was on her way to feeling the same for him, which both surprised him and scared him. 

Farther along in the entry, Buffy's name caught Angel's eye. Faith had confessed to switching bodies with Buffy before showing up in LA with the intent to kill her ex. Her purpose was twofold: to hurt Buffy and to strike back at Angel for his rejection of her. Certainly when Angel greeted Buffy with a less than friendly welcome, Faith had been pleased and when he had slapped her, pleased quickly became ecstatic. If all else in her plans had failed, at least she had managed to ensure that "B." got hurt badly by the one person that could do the most damage to the blonde Slayer: Angel. She couldn't have planned it any better. Later, though, Faith admitted that she regretted what she had done. Despite their differences, Buffy had tried to be her friend, to help her and she had pushed her away out of jealousy and anger.

Angel reclined on the bed, propping one elbow on the bed and resting his head on his hand as he continued to read. Wesley had written extensively about Connor, his research on the prophecy that indicated that had led him to believe that Angel would kill his own son. leading to his misguided decision to entrust the infant into Holtz's hands.

In the margin of one page, Wes had written the question "CC selling to W&H?". There was nothing else, so Angel wasn't sure what he meant.

Two hours past as he read, until he reached what appeared to be the last entry in the thick volume. Cordelia had called Wesley, claiming to have had another vision. In Wes's words she sounded 'desperate and afraid' on the phone, reporting the rise of a new evil power somewhere in the area of Los Angeles just south of Venice. The demon in her vision was ruthless and strong; and would kill Angel should the vampire attempt to take him out. She'd seen it all with explicit detail in her vision.

Initially Wes was unconcerned. Given that he and Angel had never reconciled why should he care whether the vampire lived or died? But Cordelia pleaded with him to do this for her, for the love that she thought that they had shared once, for their friendship, and because it would prove to Angel once and for all that Wesley bore him no ill will despite everything that had happened between them. She then promised that she would continue her efforts to convince Angel to at least speak with him again. She said that she had done everything she could, but the vampire stubbornly refused to even hear the name "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce" spoken at the Hyperion. She was sure, however, that with a little more time she'd be able to change that.

Angel closed the book firmly.

Wesley had died that night. In a last desperate attempt to take out the demon, he had blown them both to bits. When the news of his death made it back to AI, Cordelia had sniffed disdainfully, claiming that Wesley's own pride had caused his death. He should have called them for obviously needed backup, but his stubborn pride had prevented him from asking for help. Other that than, she had only mentioned Wesley's name to disparage him or condemn him for what she considered his constant stream of betrayals; first Connor, then his relationship with Lilah, and then later with Faith. At no time had she ever tried to help patch up a relationship between the two men.

Here was proof of more of her lies. For reasons known only to her, she had lied to them both and kept them from perhaps settling their differences. And now Wesley was dead and they would not have the chance.

****

For the next several hours, Angel paced restlessly around the hotel, too keyed up to sleep yet trapped inside by the sunlight. Cordelia had not returned to the hotel and the delay in the confrontation with her was playing heavily on his nerves.

He had released Connor earlier and they had had a brief talk. They still had a lot of work to do to build any sort of relationship between them, but it started with trust. He told Connor that he would believe what he had told him about the seer; but he also warned him that this was his last chance. Angel would stand for no more lies, no more duplicity, no more half-truths. Any thing less than an open and honest relationship between them from here on out would ensure that they would have no relationship.

It was now mid-afternoon and Connor and Fred were sitting on the floor in the hotel lobby playing quietly with Amelia and occasionally casting glances at the obviously tense vampire roving about with barely controlled anger.

When the door rattled and swung open, all three pairs of eyes swiveled toward it apprehensively.

Gunn, covered in patches of mud with his clothes ripped in several places, held out his hands and grinned as he stepped through the door. "Well honey, I'm home."

Fred breathed a sigh of relief and came to her feet, sweeping Amelia into her arms and rushing toward her husband. She hugged him despite the filth, relieved to have him returned safely.

"Uh, I guess I missed something here." Gunn replied solemnly, taking in the worried expressions, the tense atmosphere.

"I'll fill you in later. Where have you been?" Fred asked worriedly, still clinging to his side. 

With a laugh, Gunn explained that the early morning call had been a false alarm. A large and rather mangy abandoned dog had been the mysterious 'creature' that had been sighted. Feeling rather sorry for the forlorn and obviously abused creature, Gunn had spent several hours trying to catch it before he succeeded, then a few more hours finding a rescue center that would take the animal in and take care of him until they could find him a home. 

He said he called and left a message, but apparently none of them had thought to check the machine.

When he mentioned the phone call, Fred's head shot up. In the edgy silence of the morning, the message had completely slipped her mind. Setting Amelia back down on the floor next to Connor, she rushed over to her desk and rummaged through several case files before she found what she was looking for. With a blushing smile, she handed the pad of paper to Angel.

"Sorry. You left that out one day and I didn't think that- that well, that-" The young mother stammered as Angel looked down at the paper with the drawing of Buffy clearly visible on the top. Next to the sketch was a phone number along with the name "Rupert Giles" in Fred's neat handwriting. She looked down as she finished. "I just didn't leave it out."

"Thanks." Angel took the offered pad of paper from her hand and glanced down at the drawings.

"Mr. Giles has called several times. I told him you've been out.but have you even gotten his messages? If not, then-then I think Cordelia may have been taking them." Fred added nervously as Angel looked at the sketches with a trace of surprise. He hadn't realized that he'd drawn them, but obviously they were his.

Gunn glanced over Angel's shoulder curiously, studying the girl's image. After a moment, he tapped his finger on the paper. "Damn. She looks really familiar. I'd swear I know her from somewhere."

"Buffy?" Angel questioned, his eyes looking up from the drawing to Gunn's face. His eyes flashed with anger at Fred's words that Cordelia had been stealing his messages.

"That's your girl, huh?" Gunn studied the drawing again, searching his memory. After a minute he shrugged dismissively. "Must just recognize her from the picture in your room then."

"So." Gunn continued, taking in the relatively companionable group, not to mention Connor's freedom. "What else did I miss?"

Angel sighed heavily. He'd need to explain some things to Fred and Gunn, but first he wanted to call Giles.

"I'll explain later. Right now, just stick together. I don't want anyone to confront Cordelia alone."  He met each of their eyes with his own, their deep brown depths effectively conveying the seriousness of his request. 

They all trooped up the stairs together, then Fred, Gunn and Connor, carrying Amelia, turned to Fred and Gunn's suite of rooms and Angel turned right, going to his own. Gunn was going to shower and change, so they agreed that the others would hang in their living room and watch TV while Angel made his call.

***

Angel checked the time as he picked up the phone, noting that it would be almost 11 pm in London. He hesitated briefly as he dialed, thinking of Giles's illness, the late hour and his likely need for rest.  Should he wait?

The ringing of tones as the line connected answered his question. He had completed dialing almost automatically.

A woman's voice sounded on the other end, answering with a cheery hello.

Angel cleared his throat and asked for Giles. He gave his name when she asked them waited patiently.

When Giles finally picked up the phone, Angel was relieved to hear that he sounded the same, if not better, than he had in LA. At least the former Watcher's illness didn't appear to be any worse.

"Giles? It's Angel." 

Angel waited as Giles acknowledged his greeting then offered his apologies for not returning his call earlier.  They talked for a few minutes about Giles's health and his return trip to London, then abruptly the former Watcher switched the topic to the real reason why he had been calling.

***

The sun had just slipped below the horizon when Angel pulled on his coat and grabbed his car keys. Cordelia had not returned to the hotel, but his impatience to talk with Nikkos was not going to allow him to wait for her.

Amidst protests, he ushered Fred, Gunn, Connor and Amelia out of the hotel, shoving a wad of bills into Gunn's hand along with the instructions for them to have a nice dinner and to get a hotel somewhere else in the city tonight. He didn't trust Cordelia at the moment and he didn't want to put them at risk, especially when he'd heard about her veiled threats to Amelia.

He waited until they drove off, then went to his own car and headed a few blocks away.

The chime on the door sounded when Angel pushed it open and entered Magos Exousia. The small shop was actually quite busy for the time of the evening, several patrons milling about, browsing and collecting their various books and supplies.

"Angel! My man!" Nikkos greeted him cheerfully, coming around the small counter and extending his hand. He pulled Angel into a half hug, clapping him heartily on the back. "Good to see you. It's been a long time."

"Too long."  Angel replied as he stepped back from the smaller man, glancing again at the other people wandering around the small shop. He had hoped to be able to talk to Nikkos alone, but no matter. All he needed was information.

"How's the P.I. business these days?" Nikkos asked earnestly, leaning against the counter and nodding at the small, wrinkled and bespectacled little man that stopped next to them, peering intently at the object in the counter display case. 

"Fine. Busy." Angel acknowledged, watching the little man next to them. The object that the man was staring at was a mummy's hand. Written on a placard that was placed in front of the hand was a note that simply read, "Must be special ordered. Display not for sale." 

Briefly Angel wondered why mummy's hands would need to be special ordered, but then dismissed the abstract thought as unimportant. Assured that the man was harmless, Angel spoke again. "I need some information."

The man touched Nikkos on the sleeve and pointed at the hand.

"Mummy's hands are special orders. Takes 3-6 weeks."  Nikkos replied to the mans' questioning look.

The little man nodded resolutely, then moved away, drawing a small piece of paper out of his pocket and squinting at it determinedly.

"I take a month off and the first day I'm back everyone comes in wanting something. If I'd have been this busy before the holidays I could retired and stayed in Greece."  Nikkos joked as he moved behind the counter to ring up a sale from a young girl with cropped, dyed pink hair and piercings through her eyebrow, nose, belly button and most likely a nipple from the outline of the hoop evident through her thin t-shirt that read "I like boys. They're stupid."  She glanced at Angel, now leaning against the wall nearby, forcing Nikkos to repeat the amount due twice in order to get her attention. She cast an irritated glance at the shop owner, paid for her various herbs, then flashed a flirty smile at Angel as she turned to leave.

Angel scarcely noticed her, his thoughts preoccupied, which Nikkos found amusing. He turned his attention back to his friend.

"So, what can I do you for?" He asked, a wry grin on his face.

"I need to know everything you can tell me about a magic spell."

"Then you've come to the right place. Spells I know. What kind of spell are we talking?"

"Love spell maybe, or the opposite of a love spell. Something to freeze your heart, your emotions. Something to break a bond. I don't know exactly." Angel said, considering the possible ways to describe what Buffy might have done.

"I see. Problems at home?" Nikkos mouth twitched into a half smile.

Angel's gaze swiveled to Nikkos abruptly. "No." He replied with exasperation. "There was a girl in here. Probably three years ago. Beautiful. Blonde. About this tall," holding up his hand, he indicated Buffy's height, his tone taking on one of reverence for the subject.

"Three years?  Beautiful? Um, nope. Not ringing a bell. And that sounds like one hell of a love spell. I've heard of lust spells like that before. a really good glamour perhaps." Grinning, Nikkos studied the vampire's expression, finding his tone and manner interesting. Leaning an elbow on the counter, he prompted. "What else can you tell me about her? Might jog my memory a bit."

"Big hazel green eyes, full lips with a smile that can light up the room." Angel closed his eyes, Buffy's image coming into vivid view in his memory. "Glorious golden hair, soft and thick, creamy skin, so warm and smooth. like velvet. She's slender yet perfectly form-" His eyes snapped open suddenly as he realized what he was saying. If he could have blushed he would have. He sounded like an adolescent schoolboy.

"Sounds like an absolute vision. Got a picture?" Nikkos asked as he turned to the young woman approaching the counter in a charcoal gray business suit. She sat two books on the counter, then asked him about various software packages and Internet resources. Nikkos answered her questions politely, stopping twice to extract cards from a file behind the counter containing information for additional contacts she might be interested in then rang up her purchases. She paid and left, studying one of the books she had bought intently on the way out.

"These techno-pagans are taking over the art, I swear." Nikkos shook his head ruefully. "I tell you the days of the cauldron are numbered, my friend."  Lifted his brows in question to Angel. "So, picture?"

"Sorry, no picture." Angel grimaced, mentally kicking himself for not taking one from the hotel. Why hadn't he thought of that earlier?  Although with Cordelia's penchant for shredding them, they were becoming scarce. That reality combined with the fact that she had insisted that he take the picture of Buffy out of his wallet years ago - part of her whole moving on plan - further added to his anger and agitation. He cursed softly.

"So this beautiful blonde with the hazel green eyes and creamy warm velvety skin." Nikkos asked with a grin. He'd known almost from the moment Angel spoke who he was asking about, he just wanted to hear what the vampire had to say first. "Would her name be Buffy, by any chance? As in Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer?"

"Yes. You remember her then?"  Angel's head shot up, his eyes seeking Nikko's for confirmation. His muscles tensed in expectation of Nikkos's response, even as he felt a spark of irritation at the warlock's obvious game with him. "She was in here a few years ago and bought some sort of spell book, something that she used to 'freeze' her emotions. Lock them out somehow."

"A spell like that can't just be done by just buying a book and saying a few words and burning some herbs. That's a very powerful and very difficult spell." Nikkos declared indignantly. "Only a skilled practitioner can cast a spell like that successfully. It can be quite dangerous, that one."

Angel stared at the smaller man with a piercing intensity, studying his face, his body language. His eyes widened as the implication of Nikkos's statement struck him and his gaze took on a sudden intensity. Reaching across the counter, he grabbed the warlock by the shirt and yanked him forcefully forward into the counter between them, causing the objects in the display case to rattle and the pencil cup on top of the case to tip over, sending the pens, pencils and other things spilling out onto the counter and off to the floor.

"You!" Angel growled angrily, his eyes flashing with bits of gold. "You did it. You cast the spell on her."

"Hey, let go of the shirt." Nikkos stared back, unflinching, his pale blue eyes showing no signs of fear. "This is custom made Italian and I don't appreciate the handling of it in such a manner. Nor am I able to think of anything you might be interested in knowing with you staring in my face and not breathing on me."

Angel hesitated a moment longer then let him go, releasing his grip and stepping back slightly to force himself to calm. Whatever Nikkos had done, he could undo.

"I'm not saying I did." Smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt, Nikkos replied quietly as he smiled and waved at the two women that were openly staring at them after hearing the altercation. The women were new age type wiccas, as evidenced by their long, floating skirts and diaphanous tops, the masses of necklaces practically concealing their necks and chests and a multitude of bracelets around each wrist. The frowned at the two men and whispered quietly to each other, casting an occasional glance over their shoulders.

Nikkos turned his eyes back to the tense vampire and continued flatly, "And I'm not saying I didn't. What's it to you anyway? You got your girl now, your true love."

Angel only snorted in reply, his eyes dark with anger.

"How is Cordelia anyway?" Nikkos asked amiably, his voice touched with a hint of remonstrance. He collected the pencils from the counter and put them back in the righted cup.

"She's-" Angel stopped abruptly. What could he say? Oh, Cordelia? She's evil. She's a backstabbing, vicious, murdering shrew. Didn't you know?  Taking the route least fraught with difficulty, the vampire replied tersely. "We're not together anymore."

"Ah." Nikkos noted with faintly raised eyebrows, stepping around the counter to help the two women reach something off a higher shelf. He chatted with them for a moment, chuckling slightly as he returned to his position behind the counter. "New agers. It's all crystals and stones, sweetness and light. Get out a book on the darker stuff, the more interesting stuff and they'd run screaming."

Angel looked at the two women briefly then returned his attention back to Nikkos. "Tell me-"

"You know, I have to say. Buffy just doesn't seem to be your type." Nikkos interrupted, his eyes shrewdly assessing the vampire once again. It was as if he were looking for something.

"Type?" Angel echoed gruffly, working hard to control his rage.

"All feisty with that bright eyed naiveté, the youthful energy and exuberance. Unselfish. Unaware of just how beautiful she is." Nikkos continued with a flash of a smile. "Willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good. for her duty. for love."

Angel knew that somehow Nikkos knew about his history with Buffy, the things that they had been through, the things that she had given up, that they had both given up. He paced in front of the counter, restlessly, affected by the truth of the warlock's assessment of Buffy.

"The way I saw it, I was doing you a favor." Nikkos continued genially, "Everyone knew how hung up you were over Darla and then, of course, Cordelia with that whole true love, destiny, fate, kye'rumption bullshit." Pausing, he exaggeratedly covered his mouth as if he surprised himself; as if he had accidentally revealed a secret that he had meant to keep.  Shrugging he picked up a box behind the counter and opened it, stacking the books on the counter.  "Can't say I care for your type but each to his own, man. Certainly they're sharp looking babes but all-in-all real bitches."

Angel picked up a small wand from the floor, one of the objects that had tumbled out of the knocked over pencil case. Inside the wand floated shiny metallic hearts and stars. The name Magos Exousia was embossed on the site. He toyed with it briefly as he contemplated Nikkos's words.

Ignoring Angel's obvious frustration, Nikkos casually picked up another box and carried it to the nearby shelf. Calmly he placed the books from the box on the shelf then walked back behind the counter. He tossed the box into a pile of empty boxes nearby.

Angel dropped the decorative wand back into the pencil cup and watched as the hearts and stars floated to the bottom.

Turning his attention back to Angel, his gaze direct, he added. "I just knew you didn't want that little doe-eyed sweetheart tugging on your sleeve and crying on your shoulder about her little heartbreak. I did you both a favor, set you both free."

"You know nothing about it. " Angel muttered, his voice a low fierce growl. He faced Nikkos head on now, his hands resting with palms flat on the counter as he leaned slightly forward. His posture was aggressive, threatening.

"No?" Nikkos pleasantly asked, reaching in his pocket and pulling out a box of Altoids. He opened the can and offered one to Angel, who only stared at him. Shrugging slightly, he popped a chalky mint into his mouth and closed the tin. "You sure about that?"

"You stole something that belongs to me." Angel growled angrily, furious now. He slammed his fist down hard on the counter, once more making the objects in the case rattle. His golden eyes glittered and the muscle in his jaw clenched as he fought to control his demon visage.

Behind him, the two new age wiccas that had been loitering about and watching the men covertly dropped their intended purchases and fled from the store. 

"Yeah, what's that? The girl?"  Nikkos shrugged dismissively. "From where I'm sittin' she didn't belong to you. You left her. Did you forget that part?  How about the part where you said you were in love with a new girl? Ring any bells?"

"It's trespassing - you *never* break a bond between a vampire and his mate." Angel snarled in reply, ignoring the questions that he didn't feel were relevant.

"Really? Thought the bond thing only applies to vampire/vampire or vampire/demon mates..."  Nikkos replied cheerfully, reaching to take a sip of tepid tea from a cup that had been sitting forgotten on a stack of boxes behind him. "Hold on, I got a paper on that here somewhere. We can look it up."

Paying no attention to the angry vampire leaning on his counter, Nikkos bent down and rifled through a small filing cabinet full of papers.

"Nikkos, damn it-!" Angel roared, just as the door chime of the shop sounded. He bit off the rest of his sentence as a young Asian boy walked up to the counter. The boy blinked twice at Angel, then waited patiently for the shop proprietor to notice him.

 "You know, I'm pretty sure that vampires never abandon their true mates." Nikkos muttered, his head down and mostly hidden by the counter as he continued to sift through stacks and files of papers.

"Ah! Here we go." He popped up from behind the counter, a paper held up in his hand triumphantly. "Oh, hey there, littlest Chieu." Without losing a beat, the shop proprietor greeted the boy and reached over the counter to ruffle his hair. "How's your Nana?"

The boy replied in Chinese and held up a small piece of paper.

Angel waited impatiently while Nikkos filled the list of herbs from the boys list. He jotted down the amount on a small tablet that he kept beneath the cash register then handed the bag to the boy. "Tell your Nana I hope she's better soon." As the boy walked out the door, Nikkos turned back to Angel. "She has horrible osteo-arthritis, poor thing, can't even get out of her chair some days."

Noting Angel's grim stare, the warlock turned his attention back to their earlier conversation. He picked the stapled pages form the counter. "Ah, now, where were we? Oh. Here. See - this paper written by. where's the damn name." Nikkos muttered, flipping through the pages rapidly and scanning them with his eyes, "Ah! Here we go. Sam Winthorpe, a claimed expert on vampires says right here that vampires don't abandon their mates, once they take one. For that matter, he says they don't take human mates either."

Angel blinked at Nikkos unbelievably, but the warlock was seemingly engrossed in the document in his hand.

"Course, he does also say that they absolutely must sleep in coffins and have an unnatural fear of disco music. that might cut into his credibility somewhat. But! It was published on the Internet, so it must be true." Glancing up, he slapped the paper against Angel's chest facetiously.

Angel grudgingly took the proffered document, scoffed at it with disgust and then tossed it forcefully into the garbage. After a brief pause, he asked quietly. "Why'd you do it, Nikkos? I thought we were friends."

Thinking for a minute, the warlock replied. "You weren't here, Angel. You didn't see her. She's an *angel* and she was so heartbroken, so devastated."

"Why? What happened?"  Angel inquired worriedly, his dark eyes filled with concern.

Nikkos stared back, mentally debating if he wanted to tell the vampire the events that led up to the spell. Sighing heavily, he rubbed hand across his eyes. His eyes met Angel's again. When he finally spoke, his voice was solemn. "She was here in the store looking for a book. Your friends. they came in, they were talking loudly about you and Cordelia - how perfect, how together, how much in love, and so on and so forth. She heard every word and it broke her heart."

Buffy's words came back to him then, "Not knowing many Angels - um, people named Angel that is, and not many Angel's and Cordelia's that would be mentioned in the same sentence I guessed that maybe it was the same guy." That was when she had seen Lorne. That was how she had known that they were friends. The very day she had broken their bond.

"I found her curled up in the back, sobbing.  I haven't seen too many people grieve like that." Nikkos continued, his voice grave. "Damn. It just tore me up."

Angel looked away, ashamed for the part that he had played in her heartbreak, her pain. Nikkos didn't need to elaborate. Angel could tell by the look in his pale blue eyes that Buffy's pain had truly affected him.

"You tell me you could take one look at her face, at those eyes filled with tears and not want to do what you could to help her out."

It was an opening for Angel to turn the conversation. Everything was too confused for easy answers to anything.  Of course, he would have done anything possible to help her. "Tell me how to break the spell."

"Why?" Nikkos asked bluntly, his eyes once again fixated on Angel's face.

Angel looked down, shuffling his feet slightly. He took an unneeded inhalation of air. When he spoke his voice was rich with emotion. "I made a mistake. I want her back. I want to make things right with her. I love her."

"You really done with Whordelia then?"

Angel's head shot up with a jerk, his expression one of surprise.

"Sorry, bad habit." Nikkos apologized, but it was obvious that he didn't actually mean it. "You know how rumors get started. First someone says something like, oh, she's banging his son, then you hear that she's giving it to some lawyer over that the old Wolfram and Hart offices, and then some supposed movie producer in West Hollywood.  Hell, I think I ever heard that she boinked the valet at Barney's to get better parking. So a few of the guys jokingly called her Whoredelia one day - it stuck. What can I say?"

Angel rubbed a hand over his face. He had no idea. He must be the laughing stock of the demon community. And you just figured that out now. Wow. Look how smart you are. Let me out, I'll clean up the mess and restore my - er, your - reputation. It's not going to be pretty, but hey - at this point, it's necessary, you putz. His demon's voice echoed through his head dryly, sardonically. For about a half second, Angel seriously considered the merits of having his demon handle the situation before he shook the thought away.

"Could all just be rumor man, I mean, what kind of woman screws the son of the man she's living with, huh? Just between you, me and the mummy hand here, I'd have to say that's beyond acceptable bounds of slut behavior. Besides, there's no way any self-respecting man - or demon - would put up with *that* kind of bullshit. I'd have kicked her to the curb long before now, myself."

Angel nearly flinched at the painful reminder of his complacency. Adding insult to injury, the rumors were most likely all true. What was that about Wolfram and Hart though? Was it the same thing that Wesley had alluded to in his notation? Curiously, he asked, "What did you say, about Wolfram and Hart?"

"I probably shouldn't say. I mean, its just random gossip." Nikkos reached into the display cabinet and adjusted the spacing of the orbs and stood up a couple of objects that had tumbled over earlier.

"But you'll tell me." Angel replied. It wasn't a question.

"The word on the street was that she was selling visions to them, why I don't know. Maybe she just needed more money for those expensive clothes and shoes and figurines she likes so much." Nikkos shrugged, idly sweeping a hand across the counter and scooping the dust and paper clips into his hand. He dropped the debris in to the trash and then grabbed a towel and wiped his hands.

Angel rubbed his temple. What on earth was he going to do about Cordelia? With her? Why had the Powers not intervened, since they had sent her back here? Given every thing that she had done, the lives that she had cost, did he have a choice other than perhaps to. His mind veered away, unable to say the words "kill her" even though the thought was slowly growing in his mind. Was she beyond redemption? Had her demon nature become so dark, so strong that she was no longer able to control it? Undoubtedly, it would be a decision that he would have to make in the very near future.

Turning his attention back to the immediate task at hand, Angel demanded impatiently, "Tell me how to break the spell."

"In fairy tales it's always the handsome price that kisses the sleeping beauty. You tried that yet?"

Angel's brow furrowed, his stance rigid. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned heavily against the counter.

"What? You been around over 200 years and you've never read a single fairy tale? How about a Disney movie? Seen any of those?"

Staring at him in frustration, Angel growled roughly, "I did kiss her. Nothing changed."

"Just kissed her.?" Nikkos asked. His smile was so outrageously benign that Angel couldn't possibly miss his meaning.

"Kissed her. The rest is not any of your business."  Angel replied, casting Nikkos an appraising glance.

Nikkos shrugged, glancing meaningfully toward the vampire. "Well then, if you were human then I'd say then maybe you're not her true love."

Angel's head jerked up and his eyes found Nikkos's with a piercing intensity. The expression on his face was one of near horror. 

"You've really tried the whole "loves true kiss" thing? You're sure?" Nikkos continued to smile, his voice teasing. "Was there tongue involved?"

The scowl on Angel's face deepened.

Both men glanced at the door when the chime sounded as the little bespectacled man that had been interested in the mummy hand finally left the shop, tucking the list that he had been staring at so intently into his pocket.

"All right, all right." Holding up his hands, palms flat, Nikkos gave in with good grace at Angel's angry stare. "Look, I'm pretty sure that touch helps - starts melting the ice but the ice will reform when you're apart. That takes years and a constant amount of touching. Not that I wouldn't mind with someone like Buffy."

One of the vampire's dark brows quirked up warningly, his aura taking on the greenish hue of jealously.

"Hey, I'm just saying it wouldn't be a hardship, okay?" Nikkos winked with a grin.

His patience slipping away, Angel snarled. "I said I kissed her already. Do you know how to break the spell or don't you?"

"You're a vampire. What's a vampire's true kiss?" Nikko's calmly queried, unintimidated by the vampire's glowering stare and angry voice.

Angel paced back and forth in front of the counter restlessly, thinking over the warlock's words. Suddenly he stopped and turned back to face Nikkos. A smile curved his lips.

"Whoa, now hold up there. Before you go rushing to Sunny-d to reclaim your mate, you need to know something." Nikkos warned adamantly, waving his hand. The sapphire ring he wore on one hand flashed in the light.

"What?" Angel asked warily.

"All magic requires a balance; a price to be paid."

Angel nodded; he knew that. He remembered the demons that were unleashed when he attempted the spell to open the portal to retrieve Connor. Those demons had almost taken over the hotel, had almost killed Fred.

"Well? What's the price?" He wanted to know. More than that, he needed to know.

"You know, with that spell. hm. I think if you break the spell, her love for you will be stronger than before. Or maybe, if you break the spell, your love will be stronger." Nikkos pondered, watching Angel contemplatively. He wanted to know the truth, the depth of the vampire's feelings for the Slayer.

Angel studied the warlock thoughtfully.

"Or maybe, if you break the spell and you break her heart again, she'll die. Or is that she'll die if the spell isn't broken.." Nikkos continued, tapping his finger on his temple thoughtfully.

"Damn it, Nikkos. Stop screwing around. Which is it?"  Angel yanked him by the front of the shirt, pulling him around the counter and slamming him back into the wall. "Get your damn book and look it up!"

There was a short hostile silence and pale blue eyes met dark golden brown ones.

"No need to get physical." Nikkos uttered as Angel flew back and slammed into the shelf behind him, the magic unleashed from the warlock powerful enough to ensure his release.

Pushing away from the shelf, Angel nodded warily.

Taking out his ladder, Nikkos climbed up to the top and slid back the secret door that hid his personal magic volumes. He perused them calmly while Angel waited restlessly beneath him.

"Hey - did you know, she did me a favor once when you couldn't be bothered?"  Nikkos replied conversationally, pulling out book after book in search of the particular volume he was seeking.

"What?" Angel glanced up at the man teetering on the ladder and leaning into the hidden alcove. "What are you talking about?"

"I called you - some wise-ass warlock out of Chicago was threatening to take over the shop; sent his nasty demon henchmen in and told me to get out within a week. You know me, I'm not good with the physical fighting thing. So I called you. Your girl said you weren't available, not then and not any time soon so I called Buffy; she came down and kicked some ass. And, as you see." Leaning back on the ladder, his arms spread wide, Nikkos grinned and almost fell. "I'm still here."

Angel grimaced at the revelation of yet another thing that he hadn't taken care of in his own city, for his own friend. For every step forward he had made in his quest for redemption, it seemed that Cordelia ensured that he took at least two backward.

"Ah! Here it is." Nikkos pulled out the heavy book, blowing the dust from the cover with a puff of air.

Angel moved to the bottom of the ladder anxiously. "Well? What is it?"

"Keep your pants on." Nikkos climbed down the ladder and set the book on the counter. He lifted the heavy cover of the book back carefully then coughed slightly from the dust. He cast Angel a brief smirking look, "Wait, I guess it's too late for that isn't it?"

"Well?" Angel shot him a dirty look and asked again, impatiently looking from the book back to Nikkos.

"I told you, it's here. I'll find it. Just chill out." Nikkos replied genially, flipped through the various pages. "Now there's something I never thought I would say to a vampire."

Angel closed his eyes, certain that Nikkos was deliberately trying to test his patience.

"Ah, here it is." Under his breath, Nikkos began to read the lines from the spell that Buffy once spoke as Angel listened quietly:"

My heart aches
My soul bleeds
My spirit weeps
Beloved, your vows are all broken
Heart of my heart, you have forgotten me
Soul of my soul, you have deserted me
Blood of my blood, I gave of my life 'til we be done.
Soul of my soul, let it be done. Let us be done.

"blah blah blah."  Nikkos continued reading as his fingertips passed over the heavily scripted words on the page.

It is the great cold of the heart, it is the dark
The woman lives, she passes, she dies.

"Ah. Here we go. love . blah blah. Yes. This is it. The price is loss of love in life. the price is life."

"What does that mean?" Angel asked apprehensively, his expression worried. "Exactly?"

"If love is allowed to return - meaning you break the spell - it will be more powerful than before and therefore dying of a broken heart is a very real consideration. But she'll die eventually if the spell isn't broken. You can't live without love, that's just life for you."  Nikkos looked up at Angel and sighed. "That or if I'm reading it wrong her misplaced love ends up creating some sort of succubus demon that feeds off lust and love, taking it from others. To break the spell you have to find and kill the succubus. It's kinda open to interpretation, but I'll have to go with the first one."

Angel, his palms flat on the counter drops his head. After a long moment of silence he rakes his hand through his hair in frustration.

"You did the spell knowing that those were the possible after effects?"  He finally asked, his voice low.

"Of course." Nikkos affirmed without hesitation.

Angel looked up them, studied Nikkos with a dark expression, his eyes filled with menace. A lesser man would have cowered in fear, but the warlock hardly even blinked.

"Well, she's the Slayer, Angel. Just how long do you think she's gonna live anyway?"

"What if you're wrong?" The vampire questioned, his mind turning over all possible options.

"I think the bigger question here is what if you're wrong? Let me be perfectly clear with you Angel. If you claim her again now, breaking the spell, then later you decide you didn't mean it and you break her heart, she'll die. Can you deal with that?"

"And the succubus?" Angel questioned, his eyes searching Nikko's face for signs that the warlock was telling him the truth. This was too important to be another of the warlock's games or jokes.

"No such creature. I needed to know where you stand." Nikkos replied gravely, knowing that this was an important decision. One that the vampire couldn't make lightly. He had to know the risks.

"Why?" Angel asked bluntly, wanting to know why Nikkos seemed to care so much.

"I take my business very seriously, Angel. If I use magic that powerful on anyone, it's got to be for a good reason."

Angel waited patiently for Nikkos to continue. 

"The girl that was in my shop crying her eyes out had seen way too much of heartbreak and death. Given that she's the Slayer too, do you think I wanted to see her live the few years of her short life left with no hope? You know what it's like to live without hope, without love. Did you want the same for her? Think about that carefully. She doesn't have the eternal life span that you do to try something else if the no love brooding thing doesn't work."

"Magic wasn't the answer." Angel replied with a sigh, absently picking up the magic wand that he had toyed with earlier.

"It wasn't your decision." Nikkos replied candidly, closing the heavy volume of spells.

Frustrated, Angel turned away. He knew Nikkos was right, but that didn't mean he agreed. He watched as Nikkos climbed the ladder and returned the heavy volume of magic back to it's hiding place.

"Does she know - about the risk?" Angel asked quietly, setting the wand on the counter and turning back to Nikkos as he returned to his position behind the counter.

"No. Why tell her?" The warlock was genuinely perplexed by the question. He took another sip of his tepid tea, grimacing this time at the bitter over brewed taste.

"You shouldn't have hid it from her."

"Yeah? I'm not the one that left her and broke her heart."

Angel turned at the sound of the door chime sounding behind him, interrupting anything he might have said. A sultry redhead in a soft angora pink sweater, with a decorative cat pin on the collar, black pants and high-heeled black boots stood just inside the door. She clutched a black bag in one hand and a jacket in the other.

Nikkos glanced around Angel, his tall form blocking the door, to see who had just entered. He smiled and greeted the slender, beautiful woman. "Hey, Mona."

"Nikkos." Mona glanced warily at Angel as she flipped the sign from open to closed, turned the lock on the door and then approached them with a slow graceful walk.

"Everything all right in here?" She asked, her voice a low throaty purr.

"Fine, love, just fine." Nikkos replied with a small smile, before adding apologetically. "I'm late again, aren't I?"

"No, honey, you aren't. I'm early." Mona's eyes shifted back to Angel, surveying him with casual interest. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I was anxious to see you."

"Mona, love," Nikkos smiled indulgently, his eyes drifting over the thick auburn waves of her hair, the voluptuous figure. "This is Angel. Angel, the beautiful Desdemona."

"Nice to meet you." Angel replied, extending his hand to shake hers in greeting. 

Mona's eyes raked over Angel appreciatively as she held out her hand.  "Mmm, same I'm sure." The throaty contralto voice purred like a lioness. Her lips curved upward in a smile, her eyes gleaming sportively as they traveled up and down the tall vampire.

As Angel released her hand, he was filled with an incredible sense of déjà vu. He would have remembered her, of that he was certain. She was striking. Her lively blue eyes looked strangely familiar.

"Darling, I thought we had dinner plans?" She pouted suggestively, turning her attention back to Nikkos and leaning on the counter. Her hip brushed Angel's and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Mona, sweets, we do. I was just talking to Angel here."  Nikkos replied, suppressing a grin.

"Always business before pleasure with you, isn't it?" She teased, glancing at Angel again. She rolled lazily against the counter and looked the vampire into the eye. "And you Angel, sweetie, do you make your girl wait while you take care of business?"

"I did." Angel's eyes returned Nikkos, his next words intended more for the warlock than to answer the question. "But I won't any more. That's changing."

"Uh-huh." Mona replied skeptically, arching one eyebrow in appraisal as her eyes swept up and down his tall form again. "I'll bet. Something tells me though, that your girl might not mind."

"I'll be sure to ask her," Angel replied smoothly, "when I see her next. Thanks Nikkos, for the information. I'll be sure to keep your advice in mind."

Turning back to Mona, Angel nodded slightly. "Nice to meet you."

"'Night Angel. Very nice to meet you." Mona winked lustily at Angel as she turned back to Nikkos.

"Oh, Angel?" Nikkos called just as Angel reached the door. When the vampire turned, Nikkos tossed the magic wand that Angel had been toying with earlier at him. "You'll need this."

Angel caught the object looking at it curiously before shrugging slightly and tucking it in his pocket. He nodded and opened the door, disappearing into the night.

When the door closed firmly behind the vampire, Nikkos turned to his long-time love. "So, Mona, love. How was Sunnydale?"

 

 

 

Part X

 

Angel parked the car and cut the engine, staring for a moment at the waves of the ocean as they lapped at the shore. The normally deep blue-green water appeared black in the nearly moonless night, a low mist of fog resting just above the surface.

Exiting the car, he walked slowly toward the beach. He wasn't sure where he was going when he left Magos Exousia but almost without thinking he had ended up here. As he crossed the Santa Monica pier, he adjusted his coat collar and tucked his hands in his pockets. It was habit rather than necessity that made him automatically cling to the shadows and lurk in the dark; a habit of years of vampiric existence that remained unbroken.

Despite the usually mild temperatures of southern California, on this January night there was a chill in the air and a steadily increasing wind. Angel paused briefly to scan the nearly deserted pier, the late hour and the inclement weather forcing most of those who that would be out and about to seek the warmth and comfort of the indoors.

He continued his walk down the pier, slowing as he approached the one place that he knew he would never forget should he live only 2 more years or another 200. He stopped in the exact spot and stood still for a moment, letting the memories wash over him along with the sound of the waves lapping at the shore. He closed his eyes.

The memory of her standing there in sunlight was crystal clear, vivid and arresting. She hadn't been at all truthful with him when she had said that she didn't look that good in direct light. She was even more beautiful than he had ever allowed himself to imagine, the bright rays of the sun reflecting off her creamy skin, her rich golden hair. She appeared almost ethereal, a goddess. His goddess.

He hadn't been able to stop himself from sweeping her into his arms and kissing her with love and passion too long denied. She was as soft and warm as he remembered; more so perhaps, since he had been without the sight and taste of her for so long. Or more so perhaps because he had been human.

He opened his eyes and stared out across the sand into the dark void that was the ocean, his mind drifting over that day in lazy perusal.  What had started so awkwardly had ended so wonderfully. that is, until he ripped it asunder.

/* When he had finally lifted his head so they both could catch a breath, he looked down into her eyes and smiled, savoring the look of joy and confusion on her face.

Her hand slid down his chest over his heart and she watched it tentatively, as if unable to trust her senses. After a few moments of feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat under her palm, she giggled joyously and looked up at his face. He swung her around in his arms and they both laughed with giddy delight.

On the way back to the hotel, the giddy delight began to fade and reservations and doubts crept in. Buffy listened quietly as he explained what had happened with the Mohra demon and about his visit with the Oracles. By the time they reached the hotel, they were both quiet, lost in contemplative thought.

Angel was unable to believe that everything he had wanted was now within his grasp. He felt somehow that he had just cheated at some test and any minute he would be caught, the prize he wanted so desperately ripped from him. Or perhaps this chain of events simply wasn't real - one of those things that were just too good to be believed and so would be proved false on further inspection. Or perhaps it was simply a dream; a dream that he had so often, that it began to bleed into his mind becoming indistinguishable from true memories.

Sitting at the table across from her, all he could think about was the feel of her, the taste of her. He wanted her so much, but it was unfair to assume that he could just come crashing back into her life now, months after he had left her alone in Sunnydale. She had moved on.

He made tea, not because he wanted it but because he needed something to do, something to occupy his hands and his mind, something to keep him from getting carried away again and pulling her into his arms. For a long awhile, they sat there sipping the tea quietly, both uncertain. When he finally drummed up the courage to speak, it wasn't about how much he loved her, how incredibly ecstatic he was to have a chance to be with her, nor was it a plea to allow him back into her life. No, it wasn't any of the things he really wanted to say. Instead he had asked about the damned tea.

"Would you like some more?"

"No, thank you."   */

The conversion fumbled awkwardly from there as neither of them said what they really wanted to say, what they really meant.

He and Buffy had a nice history of miscommunication, and certainly on that particular day they continued the familiar pattern. Maybe they had both been too afraid to admit to feelings long denied, maybe it had been because they were both reluctant to believe that something they had longed for but never thought to have was within reach, or maybe they were both too afraid to risk the pain of rejection from the other. Their feelings simply ran too deep.

They'd have to change that going forward. Miscommunication or even lack of communication often led to lack of trust and that, of course, could lead straight to heartbreak.  Something neither of them could afford to risk once the spell was broken.

/*  "I'm really sorry I kissed you like that."

"You are?"

"Well, not for the kiss itself..."

"Good.  I mean, 'cause - as far as kisses go I thought it was well above average."

"It was incredible.  I just  - I-I think, maybe we'd be asking for trouble rushing back into things. Not that I don't want to - rush.  Believe me, I do."  */

He grimaced at the reminder, wishing even now that he could take back those words. Again, it hadn't been what he wanted to say and the expression on her face - the hurt that she quickly masked, the disappointment.

His intention had been to put her interests first, but like so many other things he had done with regards to Buffy, it hadn't come out as he had hoped or intended.

/* "Right.  You spoke to the Oracles and they said you were cured for good.  But how do we know that they really speak for the Powers?  I mean they could be - pranksters."

"Or there could be another loophole."

"Exactly.  And then the two of us would be in even deeper and it's 'grr' all over again."

"It would be smart to wait a while.  See if this mortal thing takes."

"Exactly.  And even if it does, it's still complicated."

"You're still the Slayer.  And I'm not sure what I am now.  I don't know what my purpose is.  I can't just wedge myself into your life back in Sunnydale.  It wouldn't be good for either of us.  Not to mention the fact that you just started college.  And what about slaying.  I mean, if you had me to worry about, you might not be as focused."

"Are you going to pull out a pie chart on me now?  Because I get it, it's not necessary."

"I'm not saying I don't want you.  You know how much...  I'm just saying it's worth the wait to be sure this is right.  I need to be sure you won't get hurt again."  */

And now, as things often do, they had come full circle. He was awash in all the same feelings again - hesitation, wanting only what was best for Buffy; love, wanting nothing more than to be with her and love her to distraction; doubt and fear, wanting some sort of assurance that whatever path they go down that she wasn't going to get hurt.  It was complicated and it was frightening, even for a man that feared little else in life.

The way he looked at it, he was facing a monumental decision about their life, about her life and he wanted to make sure that he made the right choice. It was even more critical now that he do so, given the possible side effects of the spell.

/*  "You know it's a good thing I didn't fantasize about you turning human only about 10 zillion times, because today would have been a real let down.  -  So how does the mature plan go?  You call me?  I call you?  What?"

"We stay in touch - just not.."

"Literally. - Funny.  Okay, I'd better..."

"Right.  Remove the temptation."

"So, we'll - talk soon."

Buffy tentatively touched his hand where he it rested on the counter. He stared at it dumbly for a minute before he could no longer control his base impulses. He pulled her into his arms, his lips descending on hers in a kiss. He hadn't intended to do it, but any rein he had been holding over his control vanished with that simple touch. */

They had made love on the table until the table broke, then they made love on the floor. Afterwards, he had carried her to the bedroom and they made love there again and again, later sharing food and kisses. His heart beat as Buffy lapped ice cream off his chest.

The memories that he carried with him of that day were simply incredible. Even through the last few years in which they had been locked away, Angel not allowing them to be recalled, they survived intact, vibrant and clear.  Of course, with all those images he also carried one that broke his heart. her tear stained face when he had told her of his decision to give it all back was burned into his brain with searing luminosity.

It was a day that he would never forget. And that Buffy would never remember.

Hunching his shoulders slightly, he walked slowly down the pier toward the beach. Despite the long life he had, there were so few moments that he remembered with such clarity; that had given him such joy as that day. Thinking back on it now, he was surprised that he had had been able to give it up.

He chuckled bitterly, the sound lost in the dull wail of the wind. And for what? She had died a mere 18 months later and he hadn't been there for her like he had once said he would always be.  /* "Hey, I won't let anything happen to you if I can help it. No matter what, I'll always be with you.  I'll love you even if you're covered with slime." */

Sighing slightly, he sat heavily down on a bench. With the veiled promise that it would extend Buffy's life as well as the risk that his mortality would bring her, giving up his chance at life as mortal had been the only decision that he could have made. He regretted now that it had only bought her a short 18 more months, but he would never have been able to live with himself had he been the cause for her death. As it was, he had to live with himself for not being there to prevent her death when he had once told her otherwise.

He had failed her too often. He was weak and he'd always been weak. He'd even said as much to her once. She had no reason to trust him, to believe in him, let alone love him. Those were privileges that he had to earn again.

He stared out into the dark vastness of the ocean with unseeing eyes. But how, if she closed herself off emotionally, would he be able to do that? 

Of course he wanted to reclaim her as his mate. That wasn't even a question. If it were up to him, he'd rush back to Sunnydale tonight, this very moment and do just that.  But he had to think of Buffy and what was best for her.

Should he tell her about the consequences of the spell? 

All too often he'd made all of the decisions about their relationship himself, thinking that he knew more or better than she did what would make her happy. What she needed. His intentions were good, but as the saying went. the road to hell was paved with those. He'd certainly found that to be true, given where he had ended up - literally and figuratively.

Given such an outstanding track record in making bad decisions for them then, should he tell her and let her choose what she wanted?  After several long minutes of contemplation he sighed disagreeably. Probably not. The spell was slowly killing her. It had to be broken. Nikkos had said as much. Without love, she would die.  If he told her that, however, she'd probably just tell him that she didn't care, that she'd die some day anyway. Slayers always did, what did he expect, and so on and so forth.

Seeing no other choice, he vowed that this would be the last decision that he would make for *them*, for their relationship on his own.  From here on out, he would work very hard to ensure that their relationship was a partnership, not an authoritarian dictatorship. He smiled slightly at the thought, thinking it sounded very much like something Buffy might say.

With that decision firmly in hand, his attention shifted to the next possible consequence. What happens when the spell is broken? Even though she knew about his past affairs with Darla and with Cordelia - would that hurt her without the protection of magic? Would it break her heart? Could he take that risk? 

And what about Giles? She knew now about his illness but hadn't been particularly concerned, feeling the sting of his betrayal instead. But without the spell - would either of those things hurt her enough to break her heart?

Angel shifted uncomfortably on the bench. He'd have to call Nikkos and find out.

Thoughts of Giles brought to mind the conversation that he had had with the former Watcher earlier in the day. Although the news was too late to do any good, Giles had been so intrigued by the mysterious crimson lilies that he had seen in the lobby of the Hyperion that he had researched them upon returning to England, and so he had tried to call and warn Angel that he thought they were a portent of a spell that Buffy might have done to break their bond.

It was ironic really. No one from AI had bothered to research them, but within days Buffy's former Watcher had figured it out. If only he had gotten those messages from Giles days before. Of course, it wouldn't have helped since the spell had already been done and the flowers had already been destroyed.

And there was the little matter of Giles's missing journal. that was actually more the reason for the repeated calls. The former Watcher was nearly frantic to recover one of his journals that he had brought with him to LA. He didn't believe he had brought it along with him to the Hyperion when he had visited there, but he asked about it just the same on the off chance that his memory was failing along with his body. The hotel that he had stayed in hadn't turned up anything, so the possibility that the journal might have been left at the Hyperion was Giles's last far-reaching hope of recovering it.

Of course, Angel hadn't seen the journal but suspected that it might in fact be in the hotel - although not because Giles had left it but because Connor had stolen it. Angel declined to mention that part not wanting to alarm Giles or get his hopes up just yet, but said that he would have a look around the Hyperion just the same.

A couple down the beach laughed, the sound carrying in the wind, and Angel glanced down at them. The man raced to catch his companion's hat that was swiftly blowing along the shore while she laughed heartily. He caught it, waving it triumphantly overhead before jogging back to where she sat. She opened the blanket she was wrapped in and he joined her, their voices dropping to low indistinguishable sounds as they cuddled together.

Pulling the wand Nikkos had tossed at him out of his pocket, Angel stared down at it thoughtfully, slightly mesmerized by the slowly drifting hearts and stars that floated around gracefully inside the thick glass. Why the silly thing had drawn his attention in the first place, he didn't know. And why Nikkos had thought he would need it - he didn't have the slightest clue.

As he twirled it around, his thoughts turned back to Buffy. He remembered his first sight of her, how young, how innocent, how vulnerable she had appeared to him. From that moment he wanted nothing more than to protect her, to help her; she had given him a purpose and made him want to be more than what he had been - all without saying a single word.

More than that though, she had become a part of him.

He would have liked to say it was a gradual thing, but that would have been a lie. She had taken his heart and soul from that very first glance.

How much he had enjoyed even the simple pleasure of being with her; their sweeps through the cemeteries before he would walk her home. The chaste kisses on her porch that gradually grew into longer kisses and wandering hands, farther and farther from her house.  He enjoyed fighting along side her, watching her lithe, graceful moves. Of course, he'd often felt the need to step in and help her - even when she didn't need or want his help. It was a masculine, age-old protectiveness that he'd not been able to easily control - and something she insisted on teasing him about time and again. He smiled in memory.

His mind winged back to her 17^th birthday. That day had changed them both, in more than just the obvious ways. Not only had she gifted him with her innocence and her heart that night, but something more significant had changed within her that night, something so profound that even her scent had altered, marking her as his even before he actually did take her as his mate. It wasn't just his scent commingled with hers, but something more pronounced, something that was a combination of them both.

When he had returned from hell, things between them were initially strained and awkward. They never discussed the time he had spent as Angelus, although it seemed that they both often wanted to. Too often Buffy had seemed as if she had something to tell him but was too reluctant or afraid. To be fair, of course, he had plenty of things he wanted to say to her - but he was too ashamed. An apology for being a demon just didn't seem to be enough. It soothed him though; those evenings when she would stop by with some worry plaguing her and would sit next to him, as if simply being near to him helped. He would listen to her worries and fears, big or small, and would offer his advice when she seemed to want it or simply his ear or occasionally his shoulder for her to lean on. He would fold her in his arms every so often, careful to keep things circumspect for both their sakes and she would drift off to sleep, her worries forgotten for a few hours.

From the first moment he had seen her, he had seen her heart so clearly that he had been struck by the need to protect it. Now it seemed prophetic really, since that's what he saw clearly that he needed to do now. More than anything, his mission has become to protect her heart. To keep it from breaking ever again.

He had to believe that they were Fated to be together. She had been the reason Whistler had brought him to LA, and then to Sunnydale. She was his destiny - and he had let that slip right through his fingers.

In retrospect, he realized that his link to humanity had started with Buffy.  Every day since the day he had left her, every day since the day that he had given back, was another day to bury his head in the sand and pretend that everything was all right.  Every day was a deeper slip into complacency, into pretending things were just as they should be when they weren't anywhere near close.

Why had he let himself live in such a fog?  A fog that had slowly descended over him beginning almost the first year he was in LA, when he had started losing his connection to her. Doyle had prodded him along, kept him from faltering when he wavered but then Doyle had died and things began to fall apart.

Angel sighed heavily. He had thought or maybe he had just convinced himself, that he was doing what he was supposed to do, what the infernal Powers had wanted him to do. Cordelia taking Doyle's place seemed to be the right thing, but then somewhere that had gone wrong as well.

Listening to Cordelia's advice and visions, allowing her to guide him. he had somehow thought it was what he had been meant to do.  How was it that he hadn't seen the evil streak in her that was a mile wide?  Of course, neither Buffy nor Giles had ever seemed particularly fond of Cordelia, for that matter, neither was Willow. Perhaps they had all seen her true personality early on, or perhaps it had simply been instinct. Either way, he regretted now that he hadn't seen it as well.

He knew that the further he slipped away from Buffy, the more keenly he felt her loss. The more he needed something - love, a connection to humanity, a family - to replace that loss. Now he knew that he'd been wrong to think he could replace her with substitutes.  He just hadn't realized until now how far he'd got to try to have any semblance of what he really wanted.

Standing, he released a soft sound of disgust. He had grown weak and soft and complacent.

Shaking aside the thought as he began to walk toward his car, the scent of the coming dawn beginning to fill his nostrils, he vowed that he would no longer be the man that he had been these last few years. Instead, he would be the man that Buffy had once believed him to be. He would prove to her and to himself that he could be more than what he had been.

There would be no more half-truths and lies to separate them; the only person he would allow to tell him things about Buffy would be Buffy herself.

When he reached his car, he felt as if he had some sort of epiphany. He knew what he needed to do now to reclaim his mate. He need now what he needed to do to put his life back on track.  He had one thing to deal with in LA before heading back to Sunnydale. Cordelia.

Buffy walked silently through the streets of Sunnydale, following her usual patrol route as she moved steadily and with purpose. Her eyes scanned left and right as she searched the shadows, as if looking for something or someone. Turning the corner, she made her way down the darkened alley. It briefly passed through her mind that was the same alley where she had first met her Angel. Her Angel? Where had that come from?  When she reached the tall brick building at the end of the alley she slowed her steps, approaching the nondescript door cautiously.

Nowhere in Sunnydale could she recall seeing a structure even remotely like this one, yet it seemed strangely familiar. The surrounding streets were deserted, dimly lit by the blue lights that flickered on either side of the door. Suddenly a chill wind blew, the sound whistling eerily through the nearby trees and shuffling papers and other trash along the sidewalk.

Drawn to the building, Buffy reached out and slowly opened the door. When she stepped into the club, her clothing changed suddenly from the jeans and cotton shirt she had been wearing on patrol to a small, tight pale blue bikini top and matching tiny skirt that hung low on her hips, just covering her behind. Her black boots had been replaced with white knee high ones. 

Shrugging slightly, she soothed one hand over her hip and pushed her way into the crowded club. The building's exterior concealed the vastness of the cavernous interior, and the quiet streets in no way gave any indication of the sheer masses crowded inside.

Buffy glanced around, noticing for the first time that all of the occupants of the club were vampires, demons or other creatures of the night. They all looked at her slyly out of the corner of their eyes as she past by them, walking slowing and taking in the platforms just above her eye level along the sides of the club.

With a confused expression, she studied the women that were dancing erotically inside each of the golden cages as she walked along. Each girl was wearing an outfit similar in style to the one she was also now wearing.

A bald man with glasses stepped up next to her, drawing her attention. In one hand, he held a tray of assorted cheese slices that he waved in front of her. Blandly, he asked, "Do you have time?"  Surprisingly, she could hear him clearly despite the loud pulsing music.

"No." Buffy replied irritably as she was jostled by the demon on her right.

The bald man nodded sadly, lowering his tray. "I didn't think so," he murmured quietly, moving off into the crowd.

Buffy stared at his back curiously as he disappeared into the throng of people, allowing herself to be taken by surprise when two demons suddenly grasped her by each arm and yanked her forward.

She struggled slightly at first, then with increasing strength but was unable to free herself from their steely grip as they dragged her through the club toward the empty, icy blue cage at the far end.

Her head jerked around and she gasped when the past the last occupied cage. Faith.

"I knew they'd get you eventually, B." Faith said with a malicious smile before turning her attention back to the demons crowded in front of her. The dark-haired slayer writhed against the bars, lifting her arms over her head and dropping her head back in obvious enjoyment of the attention she was receiving.

Buffy struggled harder, frightened now as the demons forced her ever closer to the empty cage. This cage was different from all the others. The base and top appeared to be glass covered with tiny white crystals, sparkling like a pristine snow bank on a sunny winter day. The bars of the cage were clear and thick. On closer inspection, they appeared to be ice. A blue light illuminated the inside. She could feel the icy chill emanating from the cage, even from a several feet away where they had finally come to a stop.

"Hold." Behind them a voice rang out commandingly, loud and clear over the din of the crowd. The noises of the club seemed to have halted abruptly at the sound of the man's voice. "Bring her to me."

The demons turned to face the man calling out to them, yanking on her arms and forcing the diminutive blonde to turn with them.

Buffy inhaled sharply.

Angel sat in a large chair nearby, a burly minion in vamp face standing on each side of him and slightly behind. On a table at his elbow sat an ornate goblet, filled with blood although how she knew that she wasn't sure, and a blue vase of graceful calla lilies. Power and strength emanated from him despite the casual pose.

The demons on either side of her, still holding her arms, bowed to him deferentially. Dragging her forward, they forced her to her knees as one of them snarled, "Kneel before the master, bitch."

Buffy stared up at Angel, hiding her fear and anger. She resented being forced to her knees in front of him, but underlying her resentment the thought invaded her consciousness that somehow he held her destiny in his hands.

"Come." He held out a commanding hand, curling his fingers slightly. The Claddagh ring that he wore glinted in the dim light. His eyes swept over her with hungry anticipation and she shivered.

Pride straightened her back and she lifted her head high as she rose to her feet and slowly walked toward him, her hips swinging slightly, her hair brushing along the bared skin of her back in a feather light caress. Her breasts thrust forward impudently, her peaking nipples repeatedly drawing his eyes, which were roving over her in unrestrained lust.

Buffy shivered with cold as she approached him, stopping a few inches away from where he sat. She stood still for a few seconds before wrapping her arms around her chest and sliding her hands up her arms to stave off the chill.

"You're cold." Angel said as he studied her under his lashes, his pose relaxed yet still projecting an aura of power, of control.

She knew that her nipples could now be seen through the thin material of her top and she self-consciously covered them even as she fought the urge to loosen the center tie and instead beg him to suckle the jewel hard tips.

Mentally shoving aside the lascivious thoughts, she queried playfully, "Are you going to give me another jacket?"  A slight smile curved her lips at the memory. How easy things had been then. How simple in retrospect.

"No." Angel replied, dropping his eyes from her body to look at the object in his hand. He toyed with it, rolling it around carefully, his thumb brushing over it almost reverently. "I have a better way to warm you."

Buffy stared at the oval shaped pale blue diamond that he turned over in his fingertips, the beauty of the object stunning in extreme. When he held it out for her to view clearly, she studied it for a moment before her eyes flicked to his face.

She shuddered from either cold or fear or perhaps both, when he pulled her forward to stand between his legs. His eyes wandered over her again, pausing at her breasts, her hips. His fingers brushed across her upper chest just along the line of her top before lightly skimming the obvious points of her nipples as he leaned forward. Tugging on a strand of her hair, he bent her slightly so that his lips could brush her ear. "Trust me." He whispered huskily, his voice so low that only the two of them could hear.

Buffy hesitated. She didn't want to admit it but she was frightened. Behind her, she could hear the leers and chants of the demons that surrounded them.

He reached for her hand. 

"No." She whispered, struggling slightly to free her hand from his grasp as he interlaced her fingers with his.

"I would never hurt you." Angel soothed, tugging her closer.

"No. You did." Buffy replied, her voice almost a whimper. "You hurt me before. You always hurt me."

"Shh. Love. I know. I'm sorry." Angel soothed again, quietly so that his voice wouldn't carry to the nearby demons watching them with interest.  "I should never have left you, but I did and I'm sorry. I made a mistake. But, Buffy, love, please don't close me out now."

Buffy stared at his face, tears in her eyes. She licked her lips nervously, feeling colder than ever. Again, she shivered.

"Forgive me. Let me love you. Let yourself love me again." His hand brushed across the bare skin of her stomach, his fingers splaying as he rested his palm just below her belly button. She gasped - his touch was warm, almost hot. Her luminescent hazel green eyes met the rich golden brown of his. There was faintly pleading look on his face. "Please, love, you have to trust me."

Buffy nodded, an almost imperceptible movement, before another shiver traveled along her body. She was trembling again with the cold, hugging her arms around her.

Moving her arms gently to her sides, Angel leaned forward and placed a kiss on her abdomen just under her ribs. Placing the blue diamond in her navel, he kissed her stomach again gently, his hands resting on either side of her waist just above her hips. He looked up at her and smiled slightly before brushing her stomach with one last kiss. His eye met hers, and her murmured softly, seriously.  "I will never betray you again, Buffy, I promise." 

He tore his eyes from hers and looked out at the sea of demon faces watching them. Admiration and desire were written plainly in the face of every male in the crowd.  Angel frowned, his expression dark.

Buffy's fingertips grazed his cheek, drawing his attention back to her. They were cold. He caught her hand and held it to his lips, his dark gaze locking with her lighter now almost pale green one. Standing suddenly, his face shifting to his demon visage, he spun Buffy around to face the crowd behind her. Clasping her wrist in his hand, he raised it above her head. 

The demons cheered loudly at his gesture, as well as the mark of ownership he had placed on her, the diamond winking brightly in the intermittent lights of the club.

Angel began to speak, his voice carrying over the low rumble of the crowd.

Buffy didn't understand the words he was saying, so she stood silently by his side as he said the words in Gaelic that bound them together in the ancient ritual of hand fasting.

His hands were not gentle when he turned her back to face him and took her lips passionately in a kiss. He bent her forcefully backward demanding her submission to him.

She knew that the kiss was not for her, but for the crowd gathered around them. Angel wanted to show his mastery of her, his ownership. He was proving to them and perhaps to her as well, that she was now - again - his possession. She did not pull away, but instead slid her body sensually against his, her hands creeping up his shoulders to twine around his neck. His tongue plunged into her mouth, tasting her sweetness and ravishing her lips as his mouth grew more demanding, taking everything she would give and asking for more. His kiss made her lose all reason, bringing her close to forgetting everything, even her own name.

The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping.

Angel lifted his head, his dark eyes staring down into her face with a promise of passion. She lay back weakly against his arm, her eyes closed.  When her lashes fluttered and her eyes opened, he leaned down and brushed his lips across her throat before nibbling on the dainty lobe of her ear. "Sweetheart, you know what I need."

Buffy swallowed and closed her eyes as his tongue traced the outline of her ear and slid back down her throat in an open mouthed kiss. Under her hands, he felt warm and her brow furrowed in confusion. He almost burned, crackling with life and lust.

"I need you to thrive for me, sweet, and this is the only way."

Buffy drew back slightly in surprise. Had he said to thrive for me or to die for me?

"I know you can do this love." Angel continued in a low, soothing voice, as if gentling a wild colt. If he sensed her earlier confusion about his words, he showed no sign of it. "You're not afraid of anything."

"Angel." Buffy said softly in reply, his name coming from her lips in a breathy sigh. Her eyes met his for a long moment in a searching glance. The sensations he was evoking inside her were so strong they were almost painful. Again she trembled.

Slowly she nodded, knowing what he wanted from her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side in submission.  She felt the tension in his body as he forcefully clamped down on his impatience. A low growl sounded from deep in his chest, causing his body to vibrate against her and she shivered.

Angel slid his hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head in his large palm. The arm circling her waist drew her more tightly against him, lifting her slightly as his thigh slipped between her parted legs and pressed firmly, further adding to her growing arousal.

Buffy whimpered slightly as his lips nuzzled her neck gently, raising goose bumps along her arms. The tender laving licks of his tongue on her throat elevated her desire. Her pulse beat erratically, the sound seemingly pounding in her ears, as the swirling heat of desire raced through her body. Her senses became saturated with his essence, his overpowering presence.

Her breath hitched in anticipation at the first scrape of his fangs on her throat, a tingling spark of desire shooting along her spine making her weak with hunger for him. At the first piercing sensation of his bite, her eyes shot open in surprise. A single tear slid down her cheek and she clutched at his back, her nails digging into the black silk of his shirt. Despite the sharp, stinging pain she keened softly and arched against him. Her breasts were crushed into the hard wall of his chest, her mons pressed tightly against the hard pressure of his thigh in an attempt to assuaged the nearly unbearable ache. It was frighteningly intense, yet she craved more.

The demons, the room around them, the sparkling blue cage. it all dropped away as her attention centered entirely on Angel. Without removing his fangs from her neck, he lifted her easily and braced her against a hard wall that suddenly appeared behind them. They were now alone. She opened to him eagerly, thirsting for more of him with every fiber of her being. Seconds later, his hard, thick shaft slid easily into the wet heat between her legs and she wantonly arched against him taking him deeply, closing around him so tightly he could not withdraw.

Desire poured through her, insistent and powerful. She wanted him more than she remembered wanting anything in her life. Her body responded eagerly to the steady pull of his mouth on her neck, reveling in the rough power of his kiss, matching his passion, his excitement, his total possession.

Her orgasmic pulsations quaked against him as he moved only slightly, rocking his hips into hers. He took her beyond pleasure. She knew at that moment that if she gave herself up to him that he would bring her the ultimate in fulfillment. She plunged down as he moved up again, a blissful scream ripped from her throat. The table next to them toppled over and the vase of lilies fell to the ground, the white flowers scattering around Angel's feet.

She was so hot, she was burning but there was no pain. There was only scalding heat and pure bliss and Angel.

Crying out his name, Buffy awoke with a violent start and sat up in bed. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and breathing heavily.  Her hand came up to her neck, feeling the unblemished skin for signs of the mark that used to be there. The mark that he had replaced in her dream. For reasons she did not understand or even attempt to analyze, she was disappointed to find that it was not there.

Just as the gray light of dawn crept up in the sky, Angel crossed through the doors into the lobby of the Hyperion. It was still and quiet, no signs that anyone was about this early morning.

He made his way up the stairs to his room, halting with his hand on the doorknob when he reached the door. He knew even without opening it that she was in there, waiting for him.

How, since he locked the door when he left was one question. More importantly however, was the fact that this had to be done and there was no better time than the present.

Gripping the knob tightly, he turned it and forcefully opened the door. The thought crossed his mind that facing a demoness of Cordelia's caliber and viciousness he should perhaps be carrying a weapon, but he reminded himself that there was a sword under his bed that was in close reach and would do quite nicely, should he need it. 

"Angel?" The forlorn whisper sounded from across the room.

"Cordelia." Angel replied coolly, closing the door behind him with a firm shove. He skeptically took in the sad, repentant expression on her face in the dim light before stepping forward into the room. "What are you doing here?" 

Inside, Angel could feel his demon stir. Anger, rage, passion - stronger emotions always seemed to draw him out, bringing him close to the surface and making his thoughts more prevalent.

Cordelia stood up from the couch where she had been sitting, waiting for him for the last few hours. Her expression was tearful and repentant as she faced him.

"Angel." Her voice was high pitched, almost like a little girl's voice when she spoke. "I've really messed up this time."

"I'd say that's an understatement." His voice was cold, emotionless when he spoke, his eyes dangerously dark. The demon inside him spoke up for the first time, the sarcastic voice sounding through Angel's mind as if echoing his own thoughts. Well, well, this should be good.

"I'm really sorry that I've lied to you." She cried tearfully, extending her hand to him in supplication as she took a small step forward. "I'm sorry that I lied to you about Buffy, about Connor."

Angel concealed his surprised that she'd taken this approach right off the bat. He was honestly surprised that she would admit to lying about anything. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes raking over her angrily, one eyebrow quirked upward skeptically. 

"I lied about Buffy at first because I just wanted to protect you. She always hurt you and I-I didn't like it." Cordelia continued, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue clutched in her hand. "I knew that you needed to get over her and move on. I just thought - well I thought that I was doing you a favor."

Oh yeah girl, run that game. Angelus murmured derisively using slang he'd obviously picked up some where in recent years. Angel snorted in agreement with his demon, a rare occurrence.

"And later. well, later I was so in love with you that I just couldn't think straight. I was so jealous of every woman that you had ever been with, especially Buffy."  The seer smoothed her short black skirt, stepping around the couch and moving closer to him. "It was silly of me, I know, but I couldn't help it. I know there's no reason for me to be jealous of someone like Buffy but I was. I'm sorry." Gritting her teeth into a small rueful smile, she paused. God, she hated having to say those words, but right now she'd say or do just about anything if it would help her cause.

"Cordelia-" With a murderous rage almost choking him, he stuck his hands in his pockets to keep them from wrapping them around her throat, her words reminding him of the pain that she had caused Buffy; the lies, the returned letters.  There's every reason for you to be jealous of someone like Buffy, you stupid twit. That's not silly at all. Quite the contrary. I think that's the first honest thing to come out of your lying mouth in years.

"Please Angel. let me finish." She interrupted, pleaded softly, her tone of voice not quite matching the scheming look in her eyes. "Connor. well, Connor was a foolish mistake. I thought that if I got close to him that it would help you - you know, to get close to him too. That it would help you rebuild your relationship with your son. The relationship that I know you want so badly."

For a moment he stared at her in utter disbelief. How could she possibly expect him to believe anything so outrageous? 

"You thought that screwing with my son would help *me* get close to him? That's a bit of stretch, isn't it, Cor? Even for you." Angel questioned incredulously, nearly rolling his eyes from the sheer stupidity of her excuse. His brows drew together in a scowl as his demon howled with laughter.  Ah. Whordelia.. - that was brilliant of Nikkos by the way - you've got to be kidding me. What hole did you pull that lame excuse out of? Wait, don't answer that, I'll bet it was the yawning pit between your thighs.  Even soul boy, as stupid as he is, isn't going to fall for that one. 

"I'm sorry, okay. It was a mistake." The dyed blonde snapped angrily, her hands coming to her hips in an offensive position. "I made a mistake, okay. You make them all the time, so don't act like you're Mr. Perfect or something. I wanted to help you and I wanted to help Connor. Excuse me for going about it the wrong way."

"Uh, Whore-" Angel shook his head, the words of his demon and Nikkos running together in his mind, "Er, Cor, that was more than a *little* mistake."  Angelus howled with laughter at Angel's verbal blunder, before adding his own dry comments. And the Barney's valet then, Whore - I mean Cor, honey? What was he? A practice round?

"Whatever." She snapped crossly, her eyes shooting daggers at him for the slipup she had heard. Tampering down her anger, she reminded herself again the importance of why she was here.

"Look Angel. I'm really sorry. Really, really sorry. I know I've screwed up but I want to make things right with you." She implored, taking another step closer and schooling her features into her best apologetic expression.

"You think you can actually make things right with me given everything that you've done?" He asked suspiciously, condemning her with his eyes. In his pockets his hands clenched into fists as he worked to control his anger.  Nice one, you moron. Way to give her something to work with, the demon muttered with a snort.

Cordelia's eyes flashed angrily as she contemptuously replied. "You've done horrible things. Terrible things. Murder. Rape. I've seen it all. Are you saying you can find redemption and I can't? That you can make things right, but not me?"  Her finger jabbed in the air at him accusingly.

"It's not the same thing and you know it." Angel replied in a deceptively quiet voice, his eyes flashing gold. Hey, soul boy, the answer here is fuck off! followed by the sound of the bitch hitting the floor with a broken neck.

"How is it different?" She demanded with her eyes trained on his face intently, her hands squarely on her hips once again.

"I'm not evil?" Angel questioned mockingly, a muscle in his cheek twitching slightly. No, damn it. Would that you were. The demon whore in front of us would be history and we'd be on our way. Angelus sighed almost wistfully.

"And I am? Just what are you basing that idiotic assumption on?"  Cordelia asked, her tone icy.

"Oh, things like murder; letting children die because a vision that might upset your social calendar. Selling visions to Wolfram & Hart; sending Wesley into a death trap. hiring demons to kill the Slayer. Take your pick."  He replied, his expression murderous as he glared at her.

She pressed her lips together, thinking rapidly. This was not going as she had hoped or planned, but she still had a few cards yet in her hand to play. Taking a deep breath, she refocused her efforts back on why she was here, what she needed from him. Softly, she pleaded with him again, "Please Angel. I know I've done some terrible things. You have to help me. Remember, I became half-demon to help you. To keep you from going mad." 

She saw the flicker of guilt that crossed his face and smiled to herself. She knew Angel would remember the pain of her visions, how she almost died from them until Skip had shown up and made her half demon, saving her life. Of course, no one had questioned the idea that the Powers had intervened for her, Cordelia Chase, when they didn't seem to care when Buffy died, when Kendra died, when Angel, one of their chosen warriors, was imprisoned in a box at the bottom of the ocean. they hadn't saved Doyle. But, they saved her, Cordelia, so that meant that she was special, damn it. Angel was an idiot if he didn't see that too.

Fuck! Now with the guilt. Boy, she is playing you like the really poorly tuned instrument you are and you're falling for it. You really are an idiot. I hate to say this, but you two may just deserve each other, you desperate imbecile. Angelus chastised him with a growl.

Angel angrily shook away his demon's assertion along with any lingering touch of guilt, his fingers curling into his palms. Furiously, he retorted. "I don't know that that's what would have happened and neither do you."

"It is. I gave up my destiny for you." She emphasized softly, a trace of bitterness in her voice as she recalled the alternative future that Skip had shown her, the one where she never bumped into Angel and had became a Hollywood star.

"Really? Would that be your great destiny to become a famous actress?  Or so you said anyway.   You've told me so many lies, Cordelia, I don't think I believe *anything* that you've ever said." Angel murmured condescendingly, his jaw tightly clenched. Would that have been a famous actress in porn, Cor? Because I might actually believe that given your . talents.

Angel choked back the laughter that almost escaped him at his demons commentary, but his lips still curved into a dangerous smile.

"Then if you don't care about me, what about Groo? He gave up his destiny for you too. If he hadn't, then he probably wouldn't have been dethroned."  The dyed blond slayer crooned softly, sensing perhaps that she had found a way to get through to the tall vampire staring at her menacingly, his eyes more gold than brown now.

"No, Groo gave up his destiny for you."  Angel growled in reply. He knew that it had been Groo's destiny to mate with the seer and take away her visions because her body would not long survive having them. For reasons known only to the two of them, Cordelia had kept the visions and sent Groo away. As much as he disagreed with the decision, it hadn't been his to make.

"Look, Angel." She snapped in frustration before softening her voice once again. "I really want to be good, but it's so hard for me. Please. You understand what it's like. You know how difficult it can be." She entreated, bending slightly at the waist to show her cleavage to her best advantage, hoping that she might distract him a bit with her feminine charms as she shifted topics to one less likely to show her in a positive light. "That's why you're here - to help people. To help people like me. Like the way you helped Faith. Please, Angel. for me."

"No." Angel replied, his expression cold as his eyes raked over her face. She's making me sick. Shut her up already. Angelus muttered, a similar thought running through Angel's mind.

"Please. I love you." Her eyes brimming with tears, she dabbed at them again before covering her face as if overcome with emotion.

"Love me? How can you say that?" He asked brusquely, between clenched teeth before stepping past her and pacing across the room with the prowl of a dangerous jungle cat. "You lied to me, you betrayed me over and over. Your deceit has cost countless lives, not to mention the toll that you've exacted on my personal relationships with Buffy and with Connor."  He steeled himself against any shred of guilt he felt, knowing that if Doyle hadn't died this would have never happened to her. He should never have let her become involved in his life in the first place.

Before you get too soft weepy and soft, soul boy, let me remind you that *she* wouldn't leave you alone, even when you wanted her too.

Smugly, noting Angel's conflicted expression, Cordelia turned to him. She shrugged her shoulder,  "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. You have to stay with me; the Powers have decreed it."

Angel turned on her, his expression ominous. He spoke with lethal softness, continued to pace a slow circle around her. "Really? I can't imagine that the Powers condone your behavior, the things that you've done. In fact, I'm really surprised that you've been able to get away with it for as long as you have. Perhaps we should we visit the Oracles and find out about this decree, hm?" 

Aware that he had called her bluff, Cordelia switched her tactic. "You won't have my visions to help you any more if you send me away."

"I don't care." Angel laughed derisively. And he didn't. Buffy fought evil without aid from the Powers and now so would he. He was no longer convinced that Cordelia's visions added any value to his quest, but even more importantly, he knew that he no longer wanted them. While they had been helpful on occasion, they had also been a distraction. "You haven't been sharing your visions anyway, Cordelia, so it's not a great loss."  Bored now. Kill her already and let's get the hell out of here, the demon muttered wryly, his tone aggrieved.

"If you don't help me, then- then." The seer stammered, moving toward him as the first real tears of the evening began to spill from her eyes. Her last words were barely louder than a whisper, her voice quavering. "They're threatening to send me away. To another dimension. A really, really horrible hell dimension. There are demon brothels there and everything. Please Angel, please, please help me."

Christ. Now with the wet works. Shit. And you fall for this every fucking time.

"I'm sorry, Cordelia." Angel replied coldly, unmoved by her plight. You're sorry?! You're SORRY! I cannot believe those words just came out of your mouth. You're so gonna be sorry, you idiot, if I have anything to say about it! The demon inside roared angrily, the words almost reverberating through Angel's mind. Shut the fuck up. Angel mentally replied to his demon, a hell dimension sounds like a good place for her. Can't see why you'd disagree.  

"You'll have to find someone else to help you." He continued in that same icy tone of voice, a tone that offered no hint of a willingness to compromise.

Fine, that's better but you're still a loser. Angelus muttered grudgingly.

"What?" She mouthed, her eyes wide in disbelief. How was it that this was not yet working? Guilt was a huge motivator for Angel, an almost mindlessly simple way of manipulating the tall vampire that she had exploited plenty of times over the past years. Yet suddenly he was seemingly immune. What the hell had happened?

"Get your things and get out of the hotel."  Angel stated tersely, once more returning his hands to his pockets. It was the only thing that was keeping him from choking her. Choking is good. I like choking. Hell, I'll settle for choking at this point.

"You're kidding right?"  Cordelia asked incredulously, unable to believe that her attempts to at the very least convince Angel to help her had failed.

"No, not in the least." He replied curtly as he moved toward the door, barely restrained aggression evident in his powerful frame.

"You'd be nothing but a pile of ash without me! I'm your link to the Powers. How in the hell do you think you will manage without my help?" The dyed blonde stomped after him, angrily shouting at his back as he walked away from her.

With his hand on the doorknob, Angel let out a short chilling laugh and opened the door. "Cordy, I'm going to do a hell of a lot better without you than I've been doing with you. There's no doubt in my mind about that."  Yeah, much, much better. Just not having to see your snoring, drooling face on the pillow next to me has been an enormous improvement already.  

"The Powers are going to be angry with you if you send me away!" She grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him back to face her. "They're going to punish you! Just you wait!"

Angel stared down coldly at her hand on his arm for a moment before shaking it off roughly, as if disgusted by her touch. "Get out." You could ripped her arm off and clubbed her with it you know.

"But Angel, I love you! I came back from being a higher being for you. To help you. I've given up my life for you. Doesn't that mean anything at all to you? Are you so heartless that you don't care about me anymore?" Despite her pleading words, angry sparks flew from her eyes.

"You don't love me. I don't even know if you know what love is, outside of your concern for yourself." His voice was cold, reminiscent of Angelus. She had deceived him long enough. It was time he straightened out the mess of his life. And mine too. You fucked us both up, you spineless idiot.

"But Angellll." Cordelia whined annoyingly. "How can you do this? We're perfect together you know that. I'm a seer for the Powers, we're both warriors for good. And Lorne and Fred - they've seen it, how perfect we are for each other. It's destiny. It's fate. Kye-rumption! Ask them!"  

Silence fell between them as the tall vampire stared at her face, his look one of the blackest contempt. He wondered what he had ever seen in her in the first place to make himself believe that he had been in love with her. He could find nothing inside himself to justify such thoughts; on the contrary he was considering why he didn't just kill her now. Any other demon that had done what she had done... that would have been their fate. Well, you're on the right track now but it's obvious that you need some help here, so here's what you do.  Just take one small step forward and grab her shoulders with your left arm, that dyed mop she calls hair with your right hand and give it a good, quick twist. Here we go now. Go. Step. C'mon. Just take a step. One little step. Lift your foot.

Encouraged by his silence, she continued her rapid dissertation. "Besides, you're handsome, I'm beautiful and everyone thinks we should be together. We're perfect together. Absolutely perfect."

"It's over, Cordelia. Get out before I have put you out in a way that you won't like."  Angel replied with a deadly quiet voice. He'd give her a chance to save herself, but it would be the last one.  Damn it, no need to be all noble now. Just Move. Your. Ass. We could already be in the car on the way to Sunnydale to indulge in a delicious Slayer aperitif and a nice long ride between her beautiful golden thighs. You remember that feeling well, don't cha?  Thought so. Step. C'mon. Here we go. One foot in front of the other.

"But Angel." Cordelia started to cry, everything she tried so hard to salvage disappearing in front of her eyes. Everything she needed to salvage in order to save her existence in this dimension.

The pitiful wail stopped him. Despite everything she had done, he still owed her. something.  Though he couldn't find those feelings now, he had loved her once - not the way that he loved Buffy - and he was sorry that he had used her to take away some of the loneliness, the emptiness in his life. He knew too, that her life would have been vastly different if only she had never become involved with him.  He doubted that she would have become the famous actress that she claimed. but she would have had something closer to a normal life. 

Great. Here we go again with the tears. If you'd snap her neck as I have been suggesting, it'd be blissfully quiet in here right now.

"Cordelia, I'm sorry. You know I care about you but I'm not going to help you now." Angel shook his head sadly, his voice still cold, reserved. "I won't."   C'mon, one last little help for poor Whordy. And if not for her, think of all the others that you'll be helping if you do this. Just snap her neck now and be done with it.  Okay, let's see some action here.  FUCK! Will you move your ass already?! Rigor mortis could already be setting in on her corpse by now. What's with the chit-chat?

"I knew it! You do still love me. We can make this work." The words he said gave her hope and she redoubled her efforts.  "Then stay with me. We had a good thing before. We can have it again. And you can help me. And I'll- I'll help you. I won't hide my visions any more. I'll fight by your side. I'll make it right. You'll see."

"No, we can't. We're over Cordelia. Finished. And I don't love you - like that. I never did. I'm sorry."  Angel replied firmly, shadows of gold flickering in his eyes again as he reached into his coat pocket almost absently, drawing out the wand that he had been carrying it. The wand almost appeared to be humming in his hand, sending a strange tingle up his arm and into his shoulder. 

"I didn't want to have to do this but you're not giving me a choice."  Reaching into her pocket, Cordelia withdrew a small crystal jar. Before he realized what she was doing, the seer threw it at his feet. The crystal shattered and the contents inside released a deafening pop. A shower of sparks flew out covering Angel in shimmering crystals followed by a deep violet smoke.

Angel coughed slightly and waved his hand to clear the fading, now gray smoke. The wand that he had been holding in his hand hummed and glowed, emitting a faint lavender light. Curiously he looked down at it, circling his hand around it and feeling the heat emanating from it. He could still feel that faint tingling sensation now in his gut.

Cordelia smiled, her eyes perusing the complacent vampire. She smoothed her hair then tugged her skirt down slightly on her hips. With a sultry murmur, she greeted him. "Welcome back, love." The spell that she had procured in Mexico had been costly, but guaranteed to work at restoring his love for her. One unfortunate side effect that she had been warned about was the possibility that the recipient of the spell might be reduced to a mindless idiot for several hours or several weeks, depending on his or her strength of character. And of course, the results were stronger if physical consummation of their love were to take place immediately following the casting of the spell; for which Cordelia had come fully prepared.

Angel glanced at Cordelia blankly, then looked back at the still glowing wand in his hand. He said nothing, only smiled faintly as he noticed that there appeared to be more metallic hearts floating in the clear wand.

Seeing the faint smile cross his lips, Cordelia walked toward him with seductive gait, a small smiled playing on her lips.

Angel's eyebrow lifted questioningly when she stopped in front of him. Meeting his eyes, she reached up and toyed with the buttons on her shirt, slowly beginning to unbutton them to reveal a lacy black demi-cup bra.

"Shall we, uh, renew our, er, acquaintance properly?" She asked in a sultry murmur, sliding the shirt down her arms and dropping it to the floor. Glancing up at him again through the seductive veil of her lashes, she fingered the center clasp on her bra teasingly before moving her hands behind her bank and unzipping her skirt. Her black skirt followed her shirt to the floor. Stepping out of it, she reached up to slide her hand up Angel's chest. "This certainly calls for a celebration of sorts, if you ask me."

His eyes flicked over her disdainfully, taking in the scanty outfit that at one time he might have considered appealing and sexy. Grasping her arm, he forcefully removed her hand from his chest and shoved her back a step as if repulsed by her touch. "Hardly."

"What?" Codelia's eyes opened wide in surprise and she wrenched her arm from his grasp.

"Nice try, with the spell." Angel gazed thoughtfully at the wand again, wondering how Nikkos knew - whatever it was that he knew.

"What do you mean?" Cordelia looked up at the tall vampire defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.

Angel bent down and retrieved Cordelia's clothing, shoving it into her hand forcefully before striding past her. "I mean your little love spell. Did I stutter?" 

"But-" Cordelia whirled around, still clutching her clothes to her chest. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the object in his hand. Had that somehow protected him from the spell? And where the hell did he get it? Bitterly she asked, "How did you know?"

Angel shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on the back of the couch. "It doesn't matter. Get dressed and get out. I want you out of the hotel by noon. No, make that 10."

Cordelia muttered angrily as she tugged her skirt up over her hips. "Damn it. I drove all the way to Mexico for that yesterday. That stupid ass swore to me that it would work. I'll scatter his demon parts to the four corners of the earth."

Angel looked at her sharply, his preternatural hearing easily picking up her words. So that's where she had been. Better there than wreaking havoc in Sunnydale. Of course, if he had to lay odds he had no doubt that his golden girl would be able to kick Cordelia's demon ass to hell. His lips quirked up in a smile at the thought.  Yeah. Or you could do that now and save her energy for more interesting diversions.

"Damn it, Angel-"

"Really, Cordelia. After all you've done - you honestly think I'd be interested in fucking you?"  He scoffed at her, leaning against the couch, his posture one of casual dismissal.

"A *vampire* like you can't do better than me anyway! Besides, who else but demon whores like Darla and Dru or skanky bitches like Lilah and Buffy would be interested in you?" Angry and embarrassed by his cold rejection, she tugged on the rest of her clothes. Hatefully, she spat, "You're nothing but a vampire! A disgustingly cold to the touch blood-sucking fiend. Even demon-brothels don't serve your kind."

"You would know, I suppose." Angel laughed mockingly at her hypocritical double standard. Stepping forward, his gaze menacing and his tone soft, Angel taunted, "You know why they don't serve vampires, don't you? Because unleashed vampire stamina and hunger typically damages the whore. She's no good for weeks after that, if ever. But I guess you'll find out the truth of that soon enough."

"That's a lie! You never once hurt me!" She smugly retored, twisting her lips into a sneer.

"You think I ever truly showed you passion? Real, unleashed vampire passion?" Angel laughed cruelly, "You would have run scared."

"God damn you!"  Cordelia stepped forward, her arm raised to slap him across the face. He caught her wrist easily as she swung forward, shoving her backward. She stumbled slightly then found her footing before starting toward him again. This time she tripped on the corner of the sofa, plunging toward the floor. Her forehead slammed hard into the edge of the coffee table, breaking the skin. She moaned slightly, holding her hand to her the now bleeding cut on her head. At the feel of the blood, her eyes shot nervously over to where Angel stood watching her. Would the blood incite him? Would he attack her?

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Angel regarded her disinterestedly. He couldn't however, resist a small jibe, deriding her coldly. "Don't worry, Cor. I've already fed. Besides, your blood? Not particularly palatable." Not like a delicious, rich, golden Slayer cocktail. truly the nectar of the gods. Angelus muttered distractedly with a decided purr.

"What now, Angel?" Cordelia spat angrily, a glare on her face as she struggled to her feet. "You find out your soul is permanent so you run to Sunnydale to screw Buffy? Did she welcome you with open legs - the little slut?"

"None of your business." He replied, his voice touched with a renewed spark of anger.

"Christ, she did, the little slut. You fucked her already."  She maliciously retorted, her voice low. Grabbing her bag she reached inside to pull out a leather book. Wiping the blood off her head, her eyes glowing angrily she turned to face him. "I should have known."

"Get out." Angel demanded, each word pronounced with lethal softness. Just kill her and be done with this, you imbecile. We've got things to do. Mates to reclaim.

"Yeah? Well your perfect little Buffy isn't so perfect." Holding the book out in front of her like a prize, Cordelia smiled malevolently.

Angel recognized the book almost immediately. It was similar to the Watcher's journal of Wesley's that he had been looking at the other night; similar to all of the journals that Giles's had in his collection back in Sunnydale all those years ago.

Warily, Angel's eyes returned to Cordelia's face. Well, now he knows where Giles's missing journal is. Connor must have stolen it and either given it to Cordelia or she had taken it; either was entirely possible.

"Before you go panting after your little whore, begging her to take you back you might want to ask her about Liam." Cordelia's voice was venomous as she spat the words. "Poor Little Liam Angelus Summers." 

Triumphantly the seer waved the journal at him, as she continued with a gleeful cry. "Find out why she aborted your child."  She had been honestly surprised to find out about Buffy's pregnancy when she had perused the journal almost disinterestedly. It had made the time spent browsing the boring, stuffy Watcher's journal worthwhile. It was even more interesting when she realized that Buffy's pregnancy had ended with the very same Shaqti demons that she had a vision about.  She hadn't bothered to tell anyone about those visions -  the whole thing was so icky it made her sick and besides, they were just poor unwed drug addict mothers anyways...

Angel eyes widened. He was unable to contain his surprise. Was this another of Cordelia's lies?  What the hell..the Slayer had been...  Pregnant? But you. we. can't.

Angrily shaking away the thought, he reiterated with a growl. His eyes were completely gold now and he was just short of shifting into his game face. "Get out."  He vowed that he would not believe any more of Cordelia's lies. He'd go to Buffy for the truth about this one. 

"You son of a bitch! No one dumps Cordelia Chase and gets a second chance."  Cordelia shrieked, her face now red with rage. "You're going to regret this."  She spun around on her heel and headed for the door, unwilling to stick around when he was in vamp face.

Before she reached the door he moved with preternatural speed and swiped the book out of her hand.

She screeched at him, reaching for it and trying to get it back. "Give it to me - it's mine!"

"I somehow doubt that Giles entrusted it to your keeping." A contemptuous sneer on his face, Angel stepped toward her. Reacting purely on instinct, he backhanded her hard across the face and she fell ungracefully to the floor, landing hard on her ass.

"Get the hell out of here before I kill you."  Angel growled, each word pronounced with lethal softness, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to calm. He couldn't kill her right now, as much as he wanted to. Bout time, but I still would've killed the lying demon bitch.

Cordelia scrambled to her feet and bolted from the room like a frightened rabbit.

 

 

 

Part XI

 

When the door closed firmly behind the vampire, Nikkos turned to his long-time love. "So, Mona, love. How was Sunnydale?"

"Darling," Mona purred softly as she walked around the counter, continuing toward him with a hip swinging seductive gait. Stopping in front of him, she slid her arms up his chest and twined them around his neck. Rising up slightly on her toes, her lips found his in a sweet kiss.

"Mmm. No shop talk without a proper greeting first." She murmured against his lips before they met hers again in a heated and lengthy kiss. "And dinner. I'm starved."

"Well, which is it? Proper greeting or dinner?" Nikkos teased with a small smile, his eyes scanning her face leisurely, his passion for her obvious in his heated glance.

"Mmm. let me think. I'm going to have to choose dinner first, proper greeting after, as much as I hate to say it." The redhead reluctantly sighed, pulling away slightly from his embrace. Still she smiled up at him.

"Food over passion, say it isn't so?" The warlock replied with mock seriousness as he gestured for her to precede him around the counter, his hand on the small of her back. "Am I losing my appeal?"

"Well darling, it *has* been almost 400 years." Desdemona replied in a flirtatious banter, casting a glance over her shoulder at him as she continued toward the door.

"Ah, well. I suppose it's to be expected then." He said with a wink, shutting off the lights and locking the door as they stepped out into the street.

"Never, love. I simply didn't have time for lunch today and I'm just famished."  She replied affectionately, smiling at him as she reached for his hand. Her voice dropped a bit as she snuggled against his shoulder, dropping a light kiss on his ear. "And you'd prefer that I have energy for later, I'm sure."

He laughingly nodded his agreement, kissing her on the top of the head and lacing his fingers through hers. Together they walked the short distance down the street and around the corner to Suraj, one of their favorite Indian restaurants.

They greeted the owner, Akash, and chatted with him for a few minutes as he showed them to their table and brought them a bottle of his best wine. The large cozy booth in the back of the restaurant was perfect for intimate conversation, and they talked quietly as they listened to the strains of the sitar music and enjoyed their dinner. They talked about politics, the art museum exhibit, their friends, the remodeling work on their beach house and the latest exploits of their cats, Othello and Iago. Nikkos had insisted on those names for the two tabbies that they had rescued from a game of kitten poker, finding it ironic and funny to be living with the three main characters of the famous Shakespearean tragedy.

As the waiter served them Chai and kheer, the conversation finally turned to topics of more recent relevance.

"Angel now knows about the spell I take it?" Mona queried softly as she stirred a small amount of sugar into her tea, recalling the vampire's presence in the store when she arrived. Her deep blue eyes met those of her long time love with avid interest. She was a romantic at heart, she knew that, but after seeing Buffy and Angel together in Sunnydale recently she was more convinced than ever that they belonged together. She and Nikkos had sat on their hands and done nothing to remedy the situation for too long. 

"He knows." Nikkos replied with a sigh, rocking his head side to side to relieve the tension that had built up in his neck over the course of the day.

"Demon activity is way down on the Hellmouth.  Sunnydale is quieter than I've ever seen it." She offered, her thoughts drifting to the time she had spent there over the last few months.

"That's really good to hear. Not surprising, but good just the same." The blue-eyed warlock replied replied, his thoughts turning to Sunnydale and Buffy. He had long ago taken the position not to interfere with the warriors for the Powers even though he detested how they treated their Chosen ones. Yet with Buffy, he had been unable to hold to his vow. Her pain had affected him deeply; more so than he would have expected or thought. That day that he had met her, the day when she had broken down and cried in the magic shop, she had just crept under all his defenses into his heart and he knew that couldn't just stand back and do nothing to help her.

Knowing that her life as a Slayer was dangerous and difficult, he'd only wanted to provide what assistance that he could, to ease the pain of her heartbreak and make her life more bearable. He never expected that she would live as long as she had - not that he was in any way complaining about that - but in the last couple of years he had begun to worry more and more that her life would be ended by the spell. He and Mona had arranged to buy the condo next door to her in Sunnydale so Mona could keep an eye on her until they could figure out what, if anything they could do. Angel's recent interest in his soul mate was an unanticipated but welcome turn of events.

"I think that the prophecy about the current Slayer being the last necessary guardian of the hellmouth may actually be right."  Mona continued, dipping her spoon into their shared dessert. 

Nikkos nodded thoughtfully, sipping his Chai and mulling over what he remembered about that particular prophecy.

"Also the little witch seems to be serious about her self-control and hasn't been messing with any black magic or much white magic really. It's too bad really that she couldn't control her emotions; she would have been so powerful. Such a help to our cause." She sighed in disappointment. Really good, powerful wiccas, or warlocks for that matter, were a rare breed anymore. There were so few like Nikkos, so few that could hold such power in their hands and not let it corrupt them. She was a lucky demon to have found him all those years ago.

Nikkos smiled faintly, his gaze neutral.

"You'll love this, darling. It's the funniest thing." Her lips quirked into a smile, "Picture this - six foot something bad ass vampire hiding behind five foot nothing, tiny Buffy for protection."

"What did you do?" The blue-eyed warlock smiled at his mate indulgently.

"Our big bad Scourge of Europe practically hid behind little Buffy to get away from me!  Guess he's afraid of a horny little elderly lady." Laughingly Mona told the story about her couple of run-ins with Angel, about the eggs he crushed against his chest and about hiding from her in the bathroom.  By the time she finished, she was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes. "You know - it was just the devil in me that made me do it. He was just so fun to tease, Nikkos."

Nikkos laughed with her, both of them smiling at the image of the tall vampire fearful of having his much doubted virtue assaulted by an elderly woman.

"You know, it was a spontaneous thing at first. I'd have sworn that it was the demon the night before that had our little Buffy trapped against her door in a lip-lock that I almost envied. I needed to get closer to tell."  She shrugged playfully as Nikkos shook his head at her. She sighed almost ruefully, as she continued. "I'm pretty sure it was Angelus. Which doesn't surprise me since we've always known that the demon never wanted to leave his mate."

"True." Nikkos agreed with a small shake of his head. It surprised him, really, that Angel hadn't gone back to Sunnydale earlier. Though he never doubted that Angelus would have.

Mona smiled, thinking about the package in her boutique still wrapped up with Angelus's name on it. He'd come into Wicked Pleasures, just a few blocks away from Magos Exousia, last time he had lost his soul, which must have been back in 2003 now, and placed his order for several things with Felicity, her manager and assistant. She would have loved to have been the one Angelus presented his 'list' of items to, but she typically only spent a couple of days a month in the well-run store.

The first item on his list of demands had been cuffs with chains; all fragile and delicate as gold bracelets, but magically enhanced to withstand superior strength, Slayer strength. In addition, he wanted a variety of expensive lingerie to suit his every whim or fancy, numerous sex toys. all, he had said with his most wicked smile, a smile that that had left Felicity practically panting after him with desire, necessary to reclaim his mate and teach her her place. Angel's soul had been restored before Angelus returned to pick up the items that he had ordered, and Mona had simply wrapped them up and set them aside. With a wicked smile of her own, she thought about delivering the package to him now and watching him squirm. Perhaps Betty could inadvertently receive the package and deliver it to him.

She chuckled, sipping her tea for a few minutes and contemplating Angel's reaction should she bring him such a present.

With a small sigh, she glanced up at Nikkos and asked about the bit of gossip that she had heard earlier. "Is it true that they're bringing Whistler back now?"

"Yes. It's about time too." Nikkos replied with a hint of disgust in his voice. "They have to. Someone has to straighten out the mess."

"Mmm. Good." Mona nodded in agreement, taking a bite of the lightly sweetened kheer. "This is absolutely scrumptious, darling, you have to try it."

The blue-eyed warlock took the bite off the proffered spoon, then glanced over just as a familiar demon strolled casually toward their table. ""Well, well, speak of the devil. Or are you no longer an emissary for the Powers?"

"Funny ha ha." Whistler replied, stopping next to the table and looking at the remains of their dinner with undisguised interest.  "You know they own me. They say jump, I say how high."

Nikkos said nothing, only regarded the smaller man thoughtfully, his brow quirked upward slightly. 

"Where the hell have you been?" Mona asked, her voice touched with annoyance, her eyes sparkling with anger.

"Saggaria. Powers sent me there to straighten up some mess with one of the good guys that had gone a little off the beam. Wasn't following orders, had gone sorta vigilante out there."  Whistler said with a small lift of his shoulders as he adjusted his hat on his head.

Nikkos snorted. He didn't approve of the way the Powers treated their champions. Most likely whatever it was that had happened, they were also to blame. Not that they would accept any responsibility for any of it; they never did and they never would.

"What? I was only gone 8 days." Reaching over the candle and other condiments on the table, Whistler plucked a leftover vegetable samosa out of the basket and popped it into his mouth.

The expression of disbelief on their faces prompted him to continue, "Okay, so 8 Saggarian days and a Saggarian day is something like 11 months and 12 days here." Whistler shrugged dismissively, his expression innocent as he glanced between the two occupants at the table. "Hey, let me tell you, it was no picnic. Besides I'm not the one who made the mess here that now needs to be cleaned up."

"Meaning?" Mona asked challengingly, her eyes meeting those of her lover.

"I get called back with some garbled message about Angel ignoring his mission, his seer gone missing, and the Slayer now dying because of some love spell." The green leather of Whistler's coat creaked as shifted on his feet and reached over their table again to grab a papadum wafer. "Hell of a love spell, that. Had a feeling you'd know all about it though. Figured I could get the truth here."

"Unlike those you work for?" Mona couldn't keep the disgust out of her voice as she finished his implied statement.

Nodding at the seat opposite him in the booth, Nikkos invited Whistler to join them.

"Wasn't this a Laundromat before?" The demon asked as he sat down, looking around casually at the rugs hanging from the ceiling and the various exotic orchids nestled in the window alcoves. The waiter stopped by and took his drink order before disappearing back to the kitchen.

"It's good to see you back."  Nikkos smiled slightly, encouraged that things between the vampire and Slayer had a chance of getting straightened out now that the three of them were on the case. "It's been awhile."

"So what's this I hear that you caused the problem?" Whistler bluntly declared, helping himself to the leftover chicken masala and navrattan korma of their dinner.

"Me?" Nikkos asked almost indignantly, running his palm along his jaw. His eyes were speculative as he regarded the demon seated across from him. "I did, huh? But then, I'm not the idiot who damaged the savior of humanity by sadistically separating her from her soul mate."

"Hey, no fair. Don't blame me for that. They were only supposed to be separated for a year or so; he was sent a vision telling him to go back to her just before her mother died. He was supposed to be there to help her defeat Glory."

"It's good to see the Powers at least acknowledge their love."  Mona said with approval, holding her cup out for a refill of Chai tea as the waiter passed by.

Sipping his wine, Whistler muttered "No need to get all romantical and stuff. The Powers are not particularly interested in love, just the mission."

"There's more to it than that and you know it." Mona snorted, grumbling angrily, "The Powers should be interested in love since love is the entire reason champions fight.  Love is what makes the world go around, makes life worth living. Love is the very thing that we fight *for*."

Nikkos dropped his arm over her shoulder, his hand caressing her neck lightly to soothe her. He knew that this topic was one that she had strong feeling about and would argue tooth and nail in defense of the importance of love.

"And, in case the Powers haven't noticed," Mona continued sarcastically, "which in their infinite wisdom surprises me, love, or their twisted version of it has also inspired a hell of a lot of other issues."

"Hey, I'm all on board here." Whistler stated defensively, holding up his fork. "You want to blame someone, blame Angel. He's the one that ignored that vision, just like he's been ignoring so many of the others." Stuffing the fork in his mouth, he took another bite of chicken then continued, "His soul was bound - well reasonably so - there are of course magicks that can take it, some drugs." He shrugged, not completely understanding the vampire's behavior himself, "Bottom line, he could've gone home but he didn't."

Nikkos's brow lifted in question and he glanced at Mona with a trace of surprise. He directed the question at Whistler, his tone cautious. "The Powers think he's been ignoring the visions?"

Whistler continued as if the warlock had not spoken, "I mean, the entire point of separating them was so that he could become a strong and self-sufficient person, er, vampire again.  He was just too broken after he lost his soul there for a while to be of much use, then there was hell and all."  Again, the demon shrugged and took another bite of food. "Well, we all know how bad that can be.  When he finally got outta there, everyone in Sunnydale - save Buffy - kept rubbing his nose in the whole evil Angelus thing, which that didn't let him regain any sense of self-worth or self-confidence that would ensure that he could be strong, useful." Shaking his head, he sipped his wine. "So why in the hell Angel didn't go back to Sunnydale years ago like he was supposed to, I can't say. I do know that the seer was supposed to send him back." 

"You're saying-" Mona began, her eyes wide with surprise at the things that the demon had revealed.

"And to answer your question, in a word, yes." Whistler interrupted, finally answering the question that Nikkos had asked, "That's what Skip has reported back to them, that's what's in the files, that's what I was told. With so many botched cases, frankly I'm surprised they haven't just abandoned him all together as a lost cause by now." The demon finished speaking, wolfing another quick couple of bites of food before pushing the plate away.

"The seer hasn't been sharing all her visions with him."  Nikkos said seriously, his piercing blue gaze locked onto Whistlers face. "In fact, if you ask around a bit, you'll easily find out that she's been selling them to the law firm, Wolfram and Hart, among others."

"You kiddin' me?" Whistler questioned, his head coming up with a jerk and a frown crossing his face.  "Wait a second here. Did you say *her* visions? Last time I checked Doyle was playing for our team." Glancing at Mona, the demon added apologetically. "Sorry. No offense."

"None taken." Mona replied, quirking her lips into a small smile, pushing a few stray auburn strands of hair behind her ear. "And yes, his seer. Cordelia."

"Cordelia? As in the delectable Miss Cordelia Chase? I musta missed the memo on that one. What the hell happened to Doyle?"

"Delectable? Try pernicious." Mona scoffed with disgust, shifting slightly in the booth to lean both back and closer to Nikkos.

"You don't know?" The warlock asked warily, surprised that something so significant would not have been passed along to Whistler, who, in the grand scheme of things, was an important factor in Angel's status with the Powers.

"Know what? I just got back a few hours ago. I checked in and then came by here. What's there to know?"

Deep blue eyes met pale ones as Mona and Nikkos glanced at each other uncomfortably.

"Was there anything about Doyle in those files you mentioned?"  Mona queried, her tone softened.  "Did the Powers not mention him to you at all?"

"I only read what I was in the memo, which wasn't much." Whistler glanced between the two of them with an increasingly worried expression.

Quietly Nikkos told Whistler about Doyle's death and about him passing along his power to Cordelia, who was later demonized in order to withstand the painful visions. 

Whistler cursed softly under his breath, angry that Doyle had died, angry that he hadn't known about it or been told, and filled with grief for the loss of his friend. He and Doyle had known each other for years; he had, in fact, chosen Doyle specifically for the job with Angel because he had suspected that the Irish demon and the Irish vampire would be kindred sprits of a sorts; he had been right.

After a few minutes of silence, Whistler raised his glass in toast to his fallen friend. They each said a few words in honor of Doyle's memory, saddened at the reminder of so many of their friends and loved ones that had fallen in the battle that they all fought for the sake of humanity.

The waiter arrived and cleared the empty dishes from the table before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen and leaving them alone again.

With a heavy sigh, Whistler summed up what he had heard so far, "So, then Doyle dies and passes the visions to Cordelia. And you're telling me that she wasn't telling Angel about the visions? Or even worse, selling them to the group that wanted nothing more than his head on a platter, if they couldn't have Angelus working for them in some nefarious scheme?"

"Yes." Nikkos affirmed, picking up the check for dinner and glancing it at briefly.  "I'm saying that I believe she not only hid her visions, but I believe - no, I *know* that she lied to him about the Slayer. That she intentionally kept them apart."

Almost angrily, Mona added, "The Powers should have known about the seer, how far she had fallen from the righteous path. They could have fixed it." 

"You know they don't interfere beyond a certain point. They send guys like me out on our mission and then that's it."

Mona groused, her hand hitting the table with a hard slam. "The Powers and their Oracles are always thinking they know what the greater good is, but really they're so concerned with their own greatness and self-righteousness they don't realize they're just a few steps beyond the side of evil that they claim they want to defeat."

"Well, *you* could have done something." Whistler looked accusingly at Nikkos, feeling slightly defensive after Mona's outburst.

"Angel is one of your warriors, it wasn't my place to do anything more than what I did to help him. I thought the Powers knew all along what was going on with his seer and that it was simply another of their ridiculous tests, something that he had to learn on his own. How was I to know that it was simply neglect and outright sadistic stupidity on their part?"

The candle on the table sparked and the flame rose steadily along with Nikkos's voice, as the first signs of anger were visible from the normally calm warlock. "Yes, I freed your greatest warrior from a pain that was tearing her apart. And yes, I was stepping in now, since the Powers were content to sit back on their lazy asses and do nothing. But it's because I felt I had too. You know I would never interfere unless I felt it was absolutely necessary. My only regret is that I've waited much too long. I can only hope now that I'm not too late."

"I don't understand how or why the Powers operate the way they do," Nikkos shrugged irritably, closing his eyes and forcing a calming breath through his lungs,  "but they do. It's silly and sadistic if you ask me, but since I came to live in this plane, I agreed not to judge or interfere unnecessarily."

"You know they'd love to have you working for them." Whistler grinned, undaunted by the warlock's outburst. He had long known that Nikkos was on the side of good. Hell, the simple fact was that so many considered him to be the equivalent of the Powers that a good majority of the demons that currently served the Powers would willingly move their allegiance to the warlock if he gave the slightest indication that he was interested in leading them; in taking over the role that the Powers played.

"Oh please." Mona rolled her eyes and scooted across the booth to stand next to Nikkos who had come to his feet. "Like he would want that?"

"We serve the same master. Why would I want a layer of ineptness and bureaucracy?" Nikkos asked with a smile, helping Mona into her coat.

"The benefits?" Whistler jokingly replied, following them out of the restaurant into the street. He waved good-bye, turning left when they went right.

He needed to find Angel.

As soon as sun sank low on the horizon, Angel was in his car and on the road to Sunnydale. The roads were fairly free of traffic for the time of the evening, the speedometer on the GTX averaging 105 miles per hour, but the driver noticed neither the traffic nor the speed of his car so intent was he on his thoughts.

Unwilling to risk leaving the Watchers Journal in the hotel, it now sat next to him on the seat almost taunting him. He glanced at it periodically during the drive, but with steadfast determination resisted the urge seek answers to the questions that Cordelia had planted in his mind. He would begin his relationship with Buffy as he intended to continue: by going directly to her with any questions, doubts or even innuendos about anything that involved either of them.

Reaching Sunnydale, Angel parked the car across the street from Buffy's condo and cut the engine. He glanced at her windows, noting the glow of the kitchen light along the side of the house. The day had passed with interminable slowness as the statement that Cordelia had dropped on him continued to reverberate through his mind. It had taken considerable effort, not to mention tremendous physical exertion, to force his thoughts away from any speculation as to the truth of that statement until now, when he could finally allow himself to consider the possibility.  His body was fatigued, but his nerves were still charged with tension, his mind alive with anxiety. Had she been pregnant?

Exiting the car, he glanced at the darkened windows of Betty's condo warily. His eyes flitted back to the elderly woman's home several times as he walked up the path to Buffy's door, half expecting to see her gray curls pop up behind him at any moment.

When he reached Buffy's door, he hesitated for almost five seconds before he knocked, listening to the subtle sounds of her moving around inside the house before she padded from the kitchen to the door.

"Angel." She smiled at him when she opened the door, her eyes flaring wide in surprise. Almost self-consciously she ran her hand over her hip, brushing the crumbs from the tan slacks that she wore and smoothing any wrinkles.

He simply stared at her in response for a long moment. She still said his name the exact same way that she always had, part question, part breathy expectation, and it still made his heart squeeze a little in his chest every time.  It was another little thing about her that he had missed, though he hadn't realized just how much until now.

"Um, you want to come in?"  At the long silent pause from him, Buffy shifted slightly on her feet and cocked her head to one side. She studied his face, his serious expression. What did he want? she wondered, her gaze mesmerized by his powerful image. Had he come back because of her invitation? The thought pleased her, and her smiled widened revealing her perfect white teeth. Inexplicably, she had a desire to affect him in ways that no other woman in his life had ever done.

He finally nodded, the movement of his head slight as he stepped forward. Instinctively, he bent and kissed her gently on the lips in greeting.

"So, you just happened to be in Sunnydale?" She teased, closing the door behind him and brushing past him to return to the kitchen.

Angel mumbled something in response as he followed her, his mind in disarray. Now that he was here, he didn't have the slightest idea how to begin the conversation.

"Tea?" Buffy asked casually, gesturing toward the small earthenware pot that sat on the table, next to a small stack of papers, a plate of cookies and a mug. She had obviously been doing some work at home when he had arrived.

"No, thanks." He replied with a small shake of his head, the irony of the offered tea not lost on him. They'd done this very same ritual once before; it had been on his mind just last night. If things progressed tonight as they had then, he would seriously consider never having tea with her again, the beverage taking on new significance as a portent of unpleasant events where their relationship was concerned.

"Okay, so no tea." Buffy sat back down in her place at the table, picking up her cup. Glancing at him curiously over the rim, she took a small sip of the steaming liquid. "You want to sit down?"

"Yes. No." Angel answered tersely, his hands gripping the back of the chair in front of him tightly.

"Okay. Which is it?" Buffy's lips curved upward in a slight smile, wondering if he was even aware of his contradictory answer, as distracted as he seemed to be.

"No." He dropped his hands from the chair in an abrupt restless motion, pacing over to the window.

"So. we've established no tea, no sitting."  Tucking her legs up in the chair, Buffy watched him as he braced his hands on the counter and stared moodily out the window into the dark. Absently she rubbed her neck, her dream from last night creeping into her consciousness. Her body warmed slightly as she thought of having sex with him again. Was that why he had come back? If so, then why the restless agitation?

Turning around to face her, his back rigid with tension he started to speak then clamped his mouth shut. He couldn't seem to find the right words, much less get them out.

"Okay, Angel. You have something face. What's up?"  She asked quietly, still in tune with his moods after all these years. His expression was almost the same as the one he wore the night he had broken up with her in the sewer; she was somewhat surprised that she remembered it so clearly but it was etched indelibly in her mind. No doubt he was having second thoughts about any relationship with her, purely sexual or otherwise, and had come to break things off. Inwardly she sighed. At least this time there was no accompanying heartbreak. 

Standing she gathered her dishes from the table and moved toward the sink. Unless there was another reason that he had come. What possible apocalypse was threatening now? That had typically been his motive for seeking her out in the past, to warn her of some impending evil. Perhaps some things just never changed.

"Buffy. I have something I have to ask you." He paused, finding it easier somehow to speak now that she was no longer looking at him, "And I need you to be honest with me."

"Sure." Buffy replied distractedly, rinsing her dishes in the sink.

"Who is Liam Summers?"  He asked, his tone solemn. The question was innocent enough, yet loaded with significance. He knew it was cowardly to ask her with her back turned, but it was easier than staring into those wide green eyes.

The mug that she had been holding clattered in the sink and broke, his question startling her.  Buffy felt his gaze on her back, like a knife between her shoulder blades. Her lungs seized; panic clutching at her as her stomach rolled. She gripped the rim of the counter tightly, staring down at the broken pieces of pottery now strewn in the sink. How had he found out?  Had Giles told him, even though he had promised her that he never would? That it was her place and hers only to do so?

When she felt as if she could breathe again, she slowly turned to face him. It took another deep inhalation of air before she could lift her gaze from the floor.  When her eyes finally met his she felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot.

Fearful of the panic he could see in her eyes, he moved to her side in a few swift strides. "Buffy?" He touched her cheek gently, brushing a strand of hair back from her face.

Buffy struggled to marshal her wits, her explanation, her excuses. His question had taken her completely off guard. She had not been prepared to talk about this now, tonight and not with him. Maybe not ever with him, she corrected. She had thought the time - and opportunity - for this conversation long past.

"How- how-" She stammered awkwardly, her eyes flitting back to his. His nearness was disturbing, his touch even more so. She stepped back from him and felt slightly calmer. Searching her mind for what to say she moved away yet again and sat down at the table.

Angel watched her, finding her reaction unnerving. She appeared to be shocked, almost distraught. His own anxiety and fear spiked upward.

Taking a deep breath she spoke, her voice hushed in the small room. "Did Giles mention . Liam?"  The last part of the question came out an octave lower, almost on a hitched breath.

"No, he didn't." Looking at her with genuine concern, Angel waited apprehensively.

Buffy's mind whirled. She thought this day would never come. That she'd never need to tell him, especially since so much time had passed and he had moved on from her. Her eyes closed.

"Buffy?" he asked softly.

"How." She paused, licking her lips nervously as her fingers curled into her palms, "did you find out?"

Shadows flickered through his eyes as he considered what he should say. Should he tell her the truth? He had vowed to be honest with her. He glanced at the floor, at the counter then back at her face. When he spoke, the single word was pronounced low, his voice restrained. "Cordelia."

A flash of anger passed over Buffy's face, her eyes stormy when she opened them again to look at him. Of course it would somehow figure that the former cheerleader turned half-demon seer super bitch would find out about her most precious and painful memory and find some way to use it against her. She had probably even thrown it gleefully in Angel's face before making sure that the news hit the Sunnydale gossip grapevine.

Biting back her anger, Buffy focused her attention on Angel who was staring at her intently with an almost fearful expression on his face.  He deserved the truth. He'd asked for the truth. She would tell him. She could do that much. She sighed then, a faint almost negligible sigh encompassing a wealth of experience in dealing with pain and heartbreak.

"Liam Angelus Summers was my-" Her voice was a soft whisper as long repressed memories began to surface in her mind. "He was our baby. Yours and mine." She hadn't allowed herself to think about it for so long now; if the memory weren't so vivid she would almost question whether it had all been a dream.

Even though he had mentally prepared himself for it, the words struck him like a blow. He leaned heavily on the counter behind him, his mind ceasing to function. He could only stare at her, unable to form any words, ask any of the dozens of questions clamoring in his thoughts.

"I-I lost him." She continued quietly, looking down at the table and tracing a small pattern with her fingers.

As if moving in slow motion, Angel stepped forward and pulled the chair around the table to sit next to her. He reached out and took her hand, holding her small hand in both of his. His thumbs stroked soothingly over the back of her hand as he waited for her to continue. 

At his gentle touch, tears began to well in her eyes. Tears of sadness for the child she had wanted so very much, tears of grief that she had never shared with anyone.  Even the cold spell that protected her heart hadn't completely touched the love she had felt for her tiny baby.

Swallowing hard, her voice a hushed whisper, she continued.  "They said it was a miscarriage."

Angel was stunned, but all of the signs that he should have seen began hitting him like a ton of bricks; her scent had changed after they had made love and he had lost his soul. Angelus had never questioned the altered scent, arrogantly assuming it was because he had marked her as his mate. True enough, Angel thought somewhat ruefully, he had certainly marked her. The other signs were there as well, had he only paid attention: he never recalled her having her menses once when he was Angelus, but he had written that off simply as a matter of timing - they had only seen each other intermittently. Too, she had dressed more conservatively in those months as well, giving nothing away physically. And Lenny, the minion he had staked had mentioned that she had been overweight. Mentally he castigated himself. He should have known. But then, he had never even harbored the remotest suspicion that it could have been possible.

"I didn't know. that I was pregnant, not at first. Not for a while really." Buffy felt as if the words were coming from a distance, as if it were not her story that she was telling but someone else's.  She had never talked about this with anyone but Giles, too leery of exposing such a deep and painful wound to anyone else. Her friends, her mother. they had never supported her relationship with Angel and they would never have empathized, much less understood.  Only Giles knew, and he knew because she *had* needed to know how it had even been possible.

"After you and I- After we-"

"Made love." He finished for her, his hand squeezing hers gently.

"Yes. After that night." She whispered, her eyes meeting his for a moment before dropping back to stare at her hand engulfed in his.

"I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't eating. I was beyond stressed." Buffy looked away, out of long standing habit when it came to talking about those months that he had spent as Angelus. They never talked about what had happened; instead they had swept it under the rug naively hoping that it would simply go away.

"Well, you know what those months were like." She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, "And I-I didn't really even consider the possibility that it could be anything else, that I could be pregnant. I mean, after all I didn't think you could- " 

/* I wouldn't know. I don't... Well, you know, I, I can't." */  The words he had said were still clear in her mind, as if he had just said them to her last week or last month or maybe last year. But then, every moment they had shared had been etched in her mind and also once in her heart, so deeply that she knew she would never forget them.

She had excused her lack of menses for the first three months as related to stress. There simply was no reason for her to even believe that it could be anything else since, well, they both thought he couldn't. And at the time she didn't even know if Slayers could even have children.

Angel nodded, urging her to continue as his guilt rose with increasing force. As if it had not been bad enough that he tormented his lover, the woman that he often thought of as his wife, she had been pregnant with his child at the time. He was appalled and filled with remorse, cursing himself both as a man and a demon.

"It wasn't until just before I-I." Buffy stopped then, taking a deep breath. Her eyes met his briefly and then she looked away. "It wasn't until just before. just before I sent you to hell that I thought maybe it was possible. Maybe. I didn't know how or why. But I bought a pregnancy test."

Two days. She had known for only two days before she had to shove a sword into the gut of the one person she loved more than anything in the world and send him to hell; ensuring for all she knew that her baby would never see his father; that Angel would never see his son. Her voice quavered slightly when she continued. "It was positive."

The memory of that day swelled in both their memories filling the room with a hushed silence. The refrigerator hummed softly, nearby a car door slammed.

"My mom would never have been able to deal with it. She was having enough trouble coping with the fact that I'm the Slayer." Buffy continued with a heavy sigh. It had only been during her illness that Joyce had begun to show signs of accepting Buffy for what she was, rather than wishing for her to be something different.

Buffy gave a sad, brittle little laugh and shook her head. "She would really have lost it if I had told her that not only am I the Slayer, but that I was expecting her first grandchild in October, whose father just happened to *be* a vampire."

Angel remembered Joyce's lack of support for her daughter, the oblivious bubble that she lived in for so long where Buffy was concerned and he frowned in disapproval. Of course, his own conversation with Joyce had simply added to the convincing arguments of why he should leave Sunnydale, why he should leave Buffy. He couldn't escape culpability of that decision; although Joyce certainly had influenced him as well.

"My friends. I don't think they would have understood." She murmured softly. That was an understatement and they both knew it. Xander would have condemned her, Willow would have been ashamed perhaps, or confused and distant. Neither of which would have helped Buffy in her situation.

"Giles. he would have spent the next few months cleaning his glasses so that he could avoid looking at me." Her voice was touched with sadness, a hint of the shame that she would have felt for letting down her Watcher; the last person that she had to look up to at the time. Giles had easily filled the void her father had left, even surpassed him in importance in her life. She had been devastated to think that she would have disappointed him back then.

"And then Angelus. " Her mossy green eyes, wet with unshed tears, met his deep brown ones. She wasn't sure how the vampire would have reacted to the news that he - or his souled half - would have been a father.

Without a doubt Angel knew how the demon would have taken the news. Angelus would have strutted proudly, loudly proclaiming to any and all who would listen about his prowess, and then he would no doubt have taken her away. Far away from her mother, her friends, her Watcher. From anyone that would seek to harm her or separate them. He would have been fiercely protective of his offspring with his mate; all of which were feelings that Angel would have to admit that he shared. The demon was and had been strangely quiet tonight now that Angel thought about it.

"How?" The word escaped him in a strangled whisper. It wasn't what he meant to say, wasn't what he wanted to say, but there it was just the same.

"I think you know *how*." Buffy shot him an irritated look, but then softened at the chagrined look on his face. No doubt this was a surprise for him; she had had time to come to terms with it. It hadn't been easy at first, but eventually she learned to deal with it. "Souled vampires are apparently different in other ways too. Under the right circumstances, they *can* and do have children."

Buffy could still see Giles's face that day in his office in the library when she told him that she had been pregnant. It hadn't been long after she had finally confessed to he and Willow what had happened that day with Angel, that day when she had to send him to hell with his soul intact. A day that haunted her still.

"I suppose that might help to explain how Connor. " She trailed off with a small shrug, dropping her eyes once more to stare at their intertwined hands.

Angel's thumb rubbed her palm now, stroking softly as his mind searched for answers. Yes, he had Connor but he had long thought that his son was a once in a lifetime genetically manufactured Wolfram and Hart special. It never occurred to him that there would be any other explanation.

"Slayers rarely have children, you know.  And according to Giles, there's also something special about souled vampires and Slayers."  Buffy frowned slightly, remembering that Giles had never completely explained that part to her other than to tell her that it was possible because of their combined freakiness. "They can. or they could but. "

"But?" Angel quietly asked, once more studying her face.

"But.we weren't together anymore, Angel." She shifted slightly in the chair, crossing one leg under her and withdrawing her hand from his. "So there was no more chance."

He'd left her because he wanted more for her than demons and darkness; he wanted her to have someone that could make love to her, someone that could give her children, someone that could give her sunlight. He could have given her all of it but sunlight; would it have been enough? He blamed himself for Giles's deception. Had he not murdered Jenny, perhaps the Watcher would have told them about his soul. Perhaps things would have been different. He ached with remorse and guilt.

He closed his eyes in impotent frustration. He was also afraid to ask the question in the forefront of his mind, fearful of what might have happened to their child. He wanted to know, but he couldn't bring himself to speak.

Taking in his anguished expression, his closed eyes, Buffy took a deep breath and continued in a small voice. "After. after I had to . kill you." She paused; still hating the sound of those words even after all these years.  "I ran away. I went to LA. At first I thought I would stay with my dad, but then. I just couldn't. I figured I would find a way to make things work, somehow, for me and for the baby. I got an apartment off 3^rd and West, and I got a job as a waitress." 

"I wasn't in LA very long . " her voice cracked, her emotions surging as she struggled to tell him the rest of the story, "before I lost the baby."

Angel's eyes opened, his heart squeezing at the sound of her voice.

"It was a pack of demons." Her voice was low, hushed, as her mind flashed back to the alley that day. She had been on her way home from work, exhausted from being on her feet all day and weak from hunger. It seemed that she could never get enough to eat anymore, yet she was eager to eat properly now and take care of herself and her coming little one. She had decided, after mentally reviewing the contents of her tiny fridge, to stop by the store for something more palatable and so had taken a street that was not on her normal route home. As she walked along she was distracted, thinking about the day when she'd hold a tiny dark haired, dark eyed babe in her arms when the pack of demons swarmed around her, pushing and prodding at her, driving her back in to the deep recesses of the alley despite her attempts to fight them off. There were too many of them, coming at her from all sides with their meaty paws and rapid movements.

"Shaqti." Buffy whispered, the sound barely escaping her lips as her mind recoiled in horror. They were horrible creatures, dwarf like with thick gray skin and coarse black hair. Their yellowish eyes bulged from their faces above a broad nose with wide nostrils, thick with veins. They breathed heavily, obscenely as they came at her, their mouths twisted into a hungry leer and revealing sharp, blackened teeth.

"Shaqti?" The name jolted him, his eyes widening with horror. For a few minutes he fought to quell the waves of nausea churning his stomach, as he was nearly sick with anger and despair. He'd heard of the brutal demons that fed off the unborn but he had never actually seen them. They were long believed to be a myth; their attacks dismissed as rape or botched, self-inflicted abortions.

"Yes." Buffy ground out, drawing his attention back to her. "I tried to fight them off, Angel, I did, but there were too many of them, and they were too fast. My reflexes were too slow." They had cornered her and pinned her in the alley, tearing her clothes away as she screamed and struggled. They were like pack of wild animals, vicious and brutal. They swarmed her, several of them holding her down as they ran their calloused, pudgy hands over her body. One of them had buried his face in her then gently rounded stomach, inhaling deeply before leering up at her face. The demon then reached between her legs, inside her. Buffy jerked abruptly, a small sound of distress escaping her lips as she forcibly shoved the memory away.

At the anguished moan, Angel reached out and gathered her in his arms, pulling her to his lap. She didn't resist him, just settled in his arms with her face pressed against his neck. He buried his face in her hair and took an unneeded breath as she relaxed against him, her eyes filling with tears.

With a small gulping sob, she continued, "A gang of demon hunters came along. the demons, they ran." She shifted slightly, adjusting her position and rubbing her cheek along the softness of his shirt collar. 

Angel felt her breath, warm on his skin as she exhaled softly. "They took me to the hospital."

He hugged her tighter, pain constricting his chest. He wasn't sure he'd be able to hear this, but he had to know.

"The doctors. they tried. but it was too late. " She murmured softly, almost apologetically. "I was bleeding too badly." Buffy's mind flashed back to that day, that day when she had lain in the hospital with violent cramps shooting through her body. She had heard the nurses talking to each other just outside her door, the words cutting through the pain. They had said that since she had been so far along - 5 months or so perhaps - that it would be more of a birth than a miscarriage, although with much less pleasant results.

Rage, desolation, guilt all swept over him, nearly choking him, his mind nearly unable to comprehend what she must have endured. Inside him, his demon howled with fury, with pain.

"I was just over 5 months along so technically." Buffy continued, her voice sounding strangely distant. A single tear rolled down her cheek and dropped on his chest as he began to rock her tenderly in his arms. "it was a premature birth, not a miscarriage."  The fever that followed the painful labor hadn't lasted long thanks to her Slayer healing abilities, allowing her to escape the hospital that she hated so fervently. It also gave her time to make arrangements for her baby's funeral.

Angel closed his eyes, the pain tearing through him. He shook with the force of his emotions. The wave of guilt that he hadn't been there to protect her was nearly overwhelming him, threatening to drown him. He held on to her tightly, as if that would somehow save him, as if she would keep him from shattering into a thousand small pieces of ash.

"Oh god, Angel. I wanted that baby more than anything." She declared softly, her shoulders shaking. She seemed to come back from some interior focus, looking up at his face as her tears began in earnest.

"I'm sorry, sweet, so very sorry." Angel soothed, rocking her gently and kissing her brow.

"I-I I buried him in LA. They said I didn't have to. That normally in situations like that the baby is just. destroyed." Her voice hitched with her tears and she took another gulping breath. She had wanted her baby so desperately; it was a part of Angel, the only part of their love that she would have been allowed to have, to keep.  "But I just couldn't let them do that." She earnestly pleaded, as if begging him to understand.

Silently he grieved, his own tears threatening.

"He would have been so beautiful, Angel. Dark hair, dark eyes. Just like you." Once more her voice hitched and a tear slid down her cheek and dropped on the dark silk of his shirt.

"Yes, love, he would have been beautiful." He agreed softly hugging her tightly again, almost crushing her into him as his hands swept over her back in gentle strokes.

"I wanted to tell you, I did, but. You were so broken when you came back from hell. You suffered so much. I didn't want to make it worse.  I thought hearing about the baby would only hurt you. And I didn't know if you'd even believe me. that it was yours."

Even then she'd thought of him first. His eyes closed against the pain. He wanted to cry himself as he felt another of her small tears run down his neck, Buffy burying her face against his collar again. He'd never even questioned if the baby was his or not; that was never in doubt. His demon would have killed any man or boy that would have dared come too close to her, that he was certain.

"I waited for you to heal. But then there was that whole thing with the First. you were already suicidal - I couldn't add any more to your despair." Her voice held an almost desperate quality as she spoke.

"And after. well, after that there was that whole thing with Faith." She trailed off, silent for a moment reminded of her insecurities about his affections.

Angel said nothing, his own heart breaking.

"And then. you broke up with me. And it was too late." Her voice was low as she murmured softly against the cool skin of his neck,  "You were gone."

"Buffy, I'm so sor-" He squeezed his eyes tightly then opened them to look down at her, placing a kiss gently on the top of her head.

"I thought you would blame me." She continued as if he hadn't spoken, "God knows I blamed myself. If only I would have taken better care of myself. If only I had known earlier; if only I hadn't taken that street that day." Her voice broke. She had hunted for the Shaqti after she had healed, when she had gone back to fighting, but she had never found them. At first she had only fought because she wanted to die; at best it was distraction from the pain and heartache that she had felt. By small degrees she learned to live with the ache, learned how to cope with the loss. Time helped her to heal, although she felt forever changed.

Gathering her in his arms he stood and carried her down the hall to her room. He settled on the bed, covering her gently with the comforter, then shrugged out of his coat and lay down next to her, gathering her in his arms. She buried her face against the solid wall of his chest and gave in to her grief.  He held her in silence while tears escaped her lashes with increasing frequency and trailed down her cheek. He had no words to console her, no platitudes sufficient to ease the pain she must have felt.

Having spent nearly his entire lifetime keeping emotions at bay, he wasn't able to expose the extent of his distress. The baby would have been his first son. And the baby had most likely died because of him, directly or indirectly. Words couldn't express the depth of his sorrow, the emptiness that he felt.  If only he hadn't lost his soul that night.  If only his demon hadn't ravaged Sunnydale, making it impossible for his lover to share her difficulties with him.  If only he hadn't roused Acathla in an effort to end his obsession with her...

"Oh, Buffy, sweetheart, I'm so sorry, so very sorry."  He whispered softly, kissing her gently on the forehead and cuddling her close as his own tears welled in his eyes. A single tear rolled down his face, dropping onto her cheek and merging with her own. That small touch unleashed the torrent of tears that she had kept buried deep inside for 8 long years. Her muffled sobs warmed his skin; the wetness of her tears soaking the dark copper silk shirt that he wore.

He clutched her close, his anguish and rage so strong, so powerful that he had to fight the urge to howl, giving in to his grief as his demon would.

Instead, he held the only woman that he had ever loved and wept with her silently for what they had lost.

Nearing dawn, Angel still held Buffy in closely in his arms listening to the quiet even breathing of her sleep. He hadn't moved during the night, content to hold her and not wanting to disturb the tranquility of her sleep when she finally dropped off after the exhaustive emotional disclosures in the night.

He'd spent the long hours of the night with his thoughts in turmoil, but with the gray light of dawn approaching things were starting to become clear. First and foremost, his priority was to take care of Buffy, his love, his mate, his wife. He had failed her for the last time.  He had to keep her with him; that was no longer even a consideration. He kissed her sleeping forehead.

They would find a way to share their time between LA and Sunnydale, until one of them could relinquish their obligations in one place or the other. He would hire help if necessary; anything that would convince her that they could make this work.

He had to get back to LA; his thoughts race ahead, grimly planning his strategy for finding and destroy every last Shaqti demon that he could find, beginning with the ones in LA.  His eyes flashed gold and he tampered down his rage. Cordelia would need to be dealt with as well; he didn't trust her. Letting her simply leave the hotel had been a mistake. She would need to be locked up or killed; she was a threat to his friends, his family and to Buffy. He wouldn't allow that danger again.

Buffy moved in his arms and he pulled her closer, returning his attention to her. He also needed to reclaim his mate and break the spell. He couldn't deny the dark thrill of desire, of possessiveness that accompanied the thought.

He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep as Buffy sighed softly against him.

Buffy walked tentatively, glancing around her with growing trepidation. The street was frighteningly familiar, the same Los Angeles street that had tormented her dreams for months. She ran her hand over the large mound that was her stomach, feeling her baby kick as if he too were aware that they should not be there. Glancing over her shoulder, she picked up her pace and turned the corner.

Immediately she knew that she had made a mistake, that she should not be in this darkened alley. She froze, hearing the obscene panting breaths and grunts behind her, the rhythmic pattering of running feet growing closer.  

"Angel?" She whispered tentatively in the dark. She clutched a hand over her fluttering stomach and ventured forward into the darkness of the alley. Something glinted in the dark and she looked down to see the sword charm necklace that Angel had always worn.  The length of the chain was covered in blood. 

Buffy gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. In the next instant she realized that Angel was gone, that she had killed him. Her babe kicked again, harder this time. The sounds behind her were growing louder and she glanced over her shoulder in panic.

Angel stood a few feet behind her, watching her. He glanced nervously toward the opening to the alley as well.

"Angel?" She questioned softly, doubting the sight that was in front of her eyes.

Behind her a laugh sounded and she whirled around. "The demonic monster that fathered your bastard offspring is roasting in hell where he belongs!" Xander's voice called out to her, although the brown haired boy was nowhere to be seen.

Buffy whirled around again only Angel was gone. The sounds of the approaching demons were growing closer. Clutching her stomach with one hand, she turned and ran. A hand swiped her back, reaching for her. In the next moment, a demon leapt on her back sending her sprawling to the hard ground.  She put one hand over stomach as she fell, the other out to brace her fall, her first instinct to protect her unborn child. She screamed.

She looked like an angel; pale, fragile, delicate, clothed all in white. Her belly, now swollen with his child was the only thing that detracted from the image, yet to him it only enhanced her beauty.

She called out his name, walking past him in the dark alley as if she had not seen him standing there, close enough for her to touch.

Angel moaned in his sleep, seeing the Shaqti demons rapidly approaching behind her. They raced through him as though he wasn't there, running fast and hard for his mate as she struggled to escape them in the dark alley.

He sprinted toward them as the demons shoved Buffy to the ground, swarming over her like a pack of animals. He grabbed for the nearest demon, but he was unable to budge the swarthy creature, despite it being less than half his size, his hands passed right through the demons shoulders. If the Shaqti noticed that he was there at all, they gave no sign of it.

"Angel, help me!" Her scream reverberated through the alley, his name torn from her lips in a desperate cry as the demons began to pull at her clothing, tearing it from her.

He redoubled his efforts, punching, hitting, kicking, but it made no impact. The demons continued their attack as though he wasn't there.

"Angelus." She moaned the demon's name in a desperate plea for help of any kind, giving the Shaqti a momentary pause as they chattered among themselves before continuing with their despicable task.

Angel stared in impotent rage, as he could do nothing to prevent the Shaqti from taking their child. He growled in frustration, his demon visage apparent.

When they ripped his child from her, he howled.

Buffy screamed in her sleep and sat up in the bed, clutching her stomach in an anguished cry. In the next instant she rolled out of the bed and ran for the bathroom, nausea overwhelming her.

Beside her, Angel came instantly awake, a low growl rumbling in his chest and the sounds of his own nightmarish scream rumbling through his mind.  He reached out for Buffy, only to find her gone. He panicked, swinging his legs over the bed and coming to his feet, his gut knotted in fear.

He heard her then, retching in the bathroom. He shook his head to clear the remnant of the horrible nightmare and moved quickly toward the sound. Kneeling beside her, he swept her hair back from her face with one hand, his other hand splaying across her stomach tenderly to soothe the convulsing spasms.

Buffy gasped and heaved until she was deathly pale, her eyes liquid with fear and dread. When the dreadful contractions ceased, Angel lifted her gently in his arms and sat her on the edge of the tub. She looked up at him gratefully as he handed her a glass of water and a cool towel.

"I'm sorry," Buffy croaked, her throat raw. Color was returning to her cheeks, easing his fears somewhat.

Shaking his head in negation, Angel brushed back a few damp tendrils of hair from her face, his eyes studying her intently. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I just. it was just a.  nightmare." She replied softly, closing her eyes and willing away the disturbing images. She knew though without him even having to say anything that he knew. He had been in her dream, just like he had shared her dreams before. He had seen her nightmare himself.

"Come back to bed. You should rest." Angel tugged her gently to her feet, then took the towel and water glass from her hand. Setting them aside, he waited as she brushed her teeth then he lifted her in his arms once more, despite her protests, and carried her to bed.

She mumbled something about not being tired, about needing to get up for work soon but he ignored her, handing her the phone to call in sick and staring at her with a piercing glare from deep brown eyes until she gave in.

Afterward, he talked quietly, telling her innocuous tales about life in LA while he retrieved pajamas for her from her bureau. His voice was low, soft - a distraction, perhaps at some primitive level, to keep any further evil at bay for either of them.

He undressed her like a child, and she teased him for it, touching his cheek lightly with her fingers when he bent down to slip the pajama top over her head.  It was such a sweet and rare moment for the two of them, a sharing in the aftermath of the night's dramatic events, that it gave her pause. She felt a twinge of regret that she could no longer love him with the depth of passion that they had once shared or even perhaps, as he truly deserved.

"Buffy," He knelt in front of her, his eyes serious as he searched her face. One of his hands rested lightly on her thigh. "Come back to LA with me tonight."

"Angel." She reluctantly looked away from his intent gaze. No matter her feelings, she was loath to hurt him. Perhaps getting involved with him in any sense had been a mistake. "You know I can't. I have responsibilities here. Slaying, a job."

"I need you with me." He murmured softly, reaching up touch her jaw lightly and turn her back to face him. Her hazel green eyes gazed up at him through the thick veil of her lashes.

"You said it yourself that things have been quiet here. Please Buffy, just for a few days." He pleaded softly, his fingertips moving along her cheek in a gentle caress. "I have some things to take care of, things that can't wait. Please."

Buffy pressed her lips together thoughtfully. It had been quiet in Sunnydale lately, that much was true.

"You could help me out a bit, maybe take on a case or two." Angel switched his tactic slightly, "Not to mention, I could use some back up on patrol."

She studied his face for a long moment, wondering at his motives. She did enjoy his company and a change of pace in LA could break of the monotony of her somewhat staid routine.

"Okay, you win. But just for a few days." Buffy smiled slightly, then reached for the buttons on his wrinkled shirt. She insisted that if she were going to stay in bed, that he join her, knowing that he couldn't leave now anyway with the sun peeking over the horizon.

He undressed and joined her under the covers, gathering her in his arms. He kissed her then, a gentle, sweet, chaste kiss as they curled up together in her bed and listened to the sound of rain, just beginning to fall outside. They talked quietly for awhile, enjoying the closeness that they had rarely been allowed, even in their most intimate moments.

They talked about their hopes and fears for the future as well as about the past, the various events in their lives during the years that they had been apart.

After a while they drifted off to sleep, lulled by the pattering rain and the warm coccoon of the bed.

 

 

 

Part XII

 

Stirring slightly, Buffy lazily opened her eyes. Behind her, pressed tightly to her back, her head tucked under his chin, she could feel the solid masculine strength that was Angel. She sighed softly, trying to remember the last time she felt so rested; so secure. Lounging away the day in bed, as she had done today, was a luxury that she could not remember ever allowing herself to indulge in.

The blinds in the bedroom were tightly closed, but from the faint light in the hallway she guessed that it must be around five o'clock. It would still be a few hours then before they could leave for LA. Buffy felt a twinge of regret that she had agreed to go; her responsibilities in Sunnydale had always weighed heavily on her mind making it difficult for her to leave for any period of time. It didn't seem to matter that she rarely encountered anything to slay any more; it just somehow didn't seem right to leave the Hellmouth unattended.

Still half-dozing, the delicate scent of vanilla permeating his senses, Angel felt the unfamiliar warmth of his mate next to him and his lips curved in a small smile. Her tiny figure was warm, the heat from her body comforting as she lay curled against him, one of her small feet resting on one of his shins. Her hair, in wild disarray on the gold sheets, tickled his chin and chest with soft, silken strands when he felt her move slightly. He lifted his hand from the bed, where it had been resting in front of her waist, to settle on her hip. Almost with a sigh, he adjusted her against him and settled back into the cozy comfort of the bed.

Buffy blinked as Angel's hand glided tentatively along the curve of her hip, moving slowly as if he were either afraid to wake her or afraid to find that she wasn't real. His hand slipped under the forest green satin pajama top that he had dressed her in the night before and dipped toward the curve of her waist, his long slender fingers gently stroking her stomach. A low rumbling purr began deep in his chest and Buffy smiled slightly, snuggling instinctively closer, as she felt the subtle vibrations against her back. It had been awhile since she had heard that almost forgotten sound of his contentment.

"Buffy…" Angel murmured softly, his eyes still closed. He moved his leg, tucking her more firmly against him, the soft silk of his boxers brushing against the curve of her behind. His fingers brushed along her ribs then the palm of his hand again slid down along her hip in a soothing caress before continuing a slow leisurely exploration along her thigh.

Sighing softly, Buffy closed her eyes and relaxed against him, enjoying his touch, the feel of his hand stroking her skin. The emotional disclosures of the night had been painful and grueling; right now, at this moment, she just wanted to put the heartbreaking memories away; she wanted to forget the horror of her nightmare and she wanted to forget the feel of the Shaqti's hands on her body.

Angel's palm moved upward again, sweeping under the green silk to stop just below the rounded fullness of her breast. His fingers idly stroked her ribs, brushing the lower curve of her breast every so slightly, but moved no further. He was simply content to hold her, reveling in her warmth and offering what comfort that he could after all that he now knew that she had been through. He frowned slightly at the reminder; at all that she had been forced to endure alone. His hand slipped back to her waist and he hugged her tightly, nuzzling her hair, as he vowed to himself not for the first time nor he suspected the last, that he would not fail her again.

"Ummm…" Buffy stretched against him, rolling on to her back and sensuously moving her body to fit snugly against his. The feel of him against her now that the anguish of the night had somewhat subsided enticed her, stirring her senses with the reminders of the pleasure and forgetfulness that could be found in his arms. Nestled in the strong curve of his arm, she again felt that unusual sense of security, of belonging. It was a feeling that she hadn't felt for years and it both alarmed her and soothed her. Unaware of the implication of Angel's touch in regards to the spell, Buffy chose for the moment to dismiss her concerns about the unusual feelings, instead turning to brush his collarbone with a soft kiss.

Tilting her head back and lifting her chin, she closed the distance between their lips as she kissed him with a teasing brush of her lips. It was a feather-light kiss at first, Buffy gradually building the pressure before nibbling on his lower lip, biting down gently. Under the covers her hand settled on his wrist, urging his hand upward from where it now rested on her stomach.

"Touch me." She whispered against his lips, savoring the cool sensation of his hand moving under the guidance of hers slid along her stomach to her ribs.

The soft plea in her voice combined with the rising heat of her desire chased away the last lazy remnants of sleep and Angel opened his eyes to look down at her. Initially his reaction was to fight the spiraling heat of want; it was perhaps too soon after the revelations of the night before and he worried for her health, physically and emotionally. He in no way wanted to rush her into anything she wasn't ready for.

"Maybe we shouldn't…" Angel whispered softly, halting the slow progress of their hands just shy of the full mound of her breast. Despite his words, he was unable to control his body's response to her, his erection growing against the warm heat of her thigh that he could feel through his boxers. "I can wait."

"I can't." Buffy murmured softly, her words coming to a whispery end as she opened her luminous green eyes to meet his rich brown ones; desire glowed in the mossy green depths, melting his reservations.

"Please … just help me forget." She entreated in a hushed whisper.

In case her words weren't enough to convince him, her lips then settled on his firmly in a slow and sultry kiss, allowing the passion between them to build by degrees until Buffy drew back slightly to catch her breath. When he moved his arm of his own accord underneath her top, her hand dropped from his wrist to clutch at his waist.

"Perfection…" He breathed huskily against her lips as his fingers splayed over the soft mound of her breast, before squeezing gently. Lifting his head from the pillow, he softly grazed her cheek with a kiss, before tracing each feature of her face with tantalizing slowness.

"You're so beautiful." His lips brushed her ear and he smiled at the shiver that swept over her leaving behind the tale-tell goose bumps. He was in no hurry. He touched her with a leisurely sensitivity, feeling again that extraordinary sense of possessiveness that accompanied his thoughts and feelings for Buffy, along with a profound feeling of relief and thankfulness that he had a second chance to make things right.

With tenderness and care, his fingertips swept across the peaking tip of one nipple then the other as his mouth moved along her chin and down her throat with open-mouthed kisses.

"Hurry..." Buffy sighed restlessly, her hand tugging at his boxers.

He grabbed her hand to halt her progress in undressing him, lifting it to his lips and kissing her fingers lightly while looking down at her with an amused expression, familiar now with her impatience. Pressing one last kiss on the vine-like mark that circled her finger, he placed her hand on his upper arm before resuming gentle kisses along her neck. His lips finally returned to hers at her insistent nudge of her nose against his cheek. He wasn't about to be rushed, wanting to love her leisurely, to draw out their pleasure.

Angel cupped the back of her head and held her lips to his for a fraction longer when she would have broken the soft kiss to catch a breath. He lifted his head a fraction from hers, studying her face seriously. He brushed a stray hair away from her eyes gently before cupping her cheek gently in his palm. When he spoke his voice was a soft husky whisper. "I love you Buffy, very much."

Reaching up, Buffy held his hand to her face. She mentally groped for a response as a tremor of sensation swept over her at his words, something faint and almost unrecognizable. Love? It was insubstantial and fleeting, so much so that she wondered if it been there at all. Whatever it had been, it was replaced with a rapid rising feeling of regret as she questioned her judgment for what at this moment seemed to be a selfish whim in taking him as a lover. She couldn't return his feelings; she was only going to hurt him.

She turned her head and kissed his palm. "Angel-"

As if aware of her uncertainty, Angel leaned forward and stopped whatever she might have said with a searing kiss. Returning his hand to her stomach, he caressed it gently before he swept the green satin pajama up to her breasts with bewitching slowness.

With an impatient wiggle, Buffy grabbed the impediment to Angel's progress and tugged the green satin over her head tossing it carelessly over the side of the bed. She wanted him now, without delay. Her eyes burned with heated passion, anxious for the culmination of the heady pleasure that she knew would be found in his arms.

"Now, Angelll… touch me." She whined pleadingly, sliding a foot along his calf as she trailed her hand along his chest again.

"Where, love? Here?" His lips curved in a sensual smile, his eyes dark with passion as they regarded her face before dropping to watch his hand as his fingertips plucked gently at the peaking bud of her nipple. He pinched the tip softly, stroking and massaging it until it was taut and hard between his finger and thumb. "Or here…?" His voice was a husky whisper as he shifted his attention to her other breast, treating it to the same pleasurable torture as its twin.

A soft moan escaped Buffy's lips as the exquisite sensations pulsed from her breasts through her belly to culminate in the low bewitching burn of desire. "Yess…" She whispered, a smile in her voice as she reached again for his wrist. She was torn between not wanting him to stop and wanting to move his hand lower, to assuage the growing ache between her legs.

His lips descended on hers, his tongue sliding along her lower lip before tracing the edges of her teeth with agonizing slowness. His erotic exploration aroused her and she wanted him to slow down at the same time she inexplicably wanted him to hurry. When he started to pull away, she lifted her arms and circled his neck, pulling him back as she slanted her head slightly and curled her tongue around his, drawing him back into her mouth.

Her fingers slipped into the short hairs at his nape, her nails scraping gently until he deepened their kiss, taking her mouth with a fierce possessiveness, as only he had ever been able to do.

She sighed into his mouth when he gave her what she wanted, one of her hands releasing their grip on his hair and drifting along his shoulder. She felt the muscles beneath her hand ripple at her touch accompanied by a low growl from his chest and she felt an incredible sense of awe and power that she could affect a creature as powerful and experienced as Angel so strongly with only a touch.

She whimpered softly and stirred on the bed as he released her mouth to lean over her, his hands sweeping along her ribcage to the rounded curves of her breasts with feather-like caresses. Lowering his head, his tongue swept across one rigid peak, laving the tip gently as he cupped her breasts in his hands.

Buffy sank her fingertips into his hair, holding his head at her breasts as each delicate suck on her nipple sent a frisson of pleasure cascading through her, flowing downward to culminate in the pulsing throb between her legs. When he took her moist nipple into his mouth and sucked with firmer pressure, she arched her back off the bed and pressed her chest firmly against his lips desperately wanting more.

After long minutes of the sparking pleasure, Buffy mewled softly and tugged on his hair, her words an insistent demand. "More, Angel… now."

"Now, now… patience, sweet." Angel smiled against her breast, biting gently on the rounded inner curve with increasing pressure until she heeded his admonishment and stilled. He sucked gently as one of his hands trailed down over her abdomen, pausing to caress her stomach before drifting down between her legs.

With exquisite slowness he ran his fingertips along the swollen, wet outer lips before dipping to catch the swollen bud of her clitoris between his fingers. Sliding the pad of his fingers around it gently, he rubbed the pliant nub with slow, increasingly firm strokes, steadily building the pressure.

Buffy keened softly, her fingers tangled in his hair and gripping with near painful strength, her other hand clenched the corded muscle of his shoulder hard enough to leave a faint bluish bruise. She arched into his hand, hot and wet and tempting and he took full advantage of her offer, exploring, stroking and massaging every lush inch of her until she was teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His tongue swirled around her nipple again, before licking a luscious wet path to her throat. With his blunted teeth biting down gently in the soft flesh of her neck, he pushed two long fingers deep inside her, curling them slightly to stroke the highly sensitive nerves of her interior walls. His thumb pressed firmly on the sensitive, swollen nub of her clit and he bit harder, causing Buffy to drop her head to the side and arch against him forcefully. When he sucked the soft skin of her throat into his mouth, it shoved her over the edge. Her wild cry echoed through the room as he felt the convulsing spasms of her wet heat surrounding his fingers begin…

Long moments later, Buffy blinked and stirred, opening her eyes when Angel withdrew his fingers from her body bringing them to his lips. She watched him interestedly, as he licked her dewy moisture off of his fingers with teasing slowness. No matter the exquisite pleasure he had just brought her, the depth of her satiation and contentment… she wanted him, wholly and completely. No substitute or alternative, no matter how pleasing, would suffice. Her desire was strangely ravenous, uncontrolled.

He grunted softly when she reached out and forcefully grabbed his erection through the soft silk of his boxers. His eyes drifted to her face and Buffy smiled sweetly, then shoved hard at his shoulder rolling him on to his back.

She shredded the black silk quickly, her warm hand seeking the hard, cool length of his shaft. Her fingers closed around him, sweeping upward with firm, sure pressure as she planted soft kisses along his chest. Buffy laid her cheek on his ribs and watched as her fingers stroked along the glistening, reddened crest of his erection, stretching it taut and rubbing the sensitive rim before sweeping down again in a firm caress.

Under her ear, she felt the low vibration of a growl deep within his chest followed by a soft groan that escaped his lips. She smiled and nipped at his stomach with her teeth before crawling up his body and swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him.

His gaze flashed upward and their eyes met.

"I want you." Buffy purred seductively, rising to her knees as her eyes surveyed him with a now familiar brazen sensuality.

"You have me." Angel replied with a smile in his voice, crossing his arms behind his head. "For whatever you… desire."

"Mmm…" She murmured thoughtfully, assessing him once again with her eyes before she began to lower herself on his rigid erection with excruciating slowness.

"Perfection…" She sighed contentedly, echoing his earlier sentiment, as his hard length slid inside her, filling her.

Angel closed his eyes against the pleasure of the exquisite tight heat that surrounded him as she sat squarely on his lap. Her body was an irresistible lure, ripe with an almost combustible heat, so hot that it threatened to engulf him. And at that moment, he didn't find that too horrible of a way to go at all… He closed his eyes, his hands moving from his casual pose behind his head to rest on her thighs.

With deliberate slowness, Buffy began to raise and lower herself on him in a slow, hard rhythm. Her knees brushed his ribs as she moved with steadily increasing intensity. A low reverberation of purring rapture sounded deep in her throat, moving along her body directly to where their bodies were joined, and she clenched her vaginal muscles, squeezing him tightly. Angel slid his hands up her thighs to her hips.

She watched him with heavy, half-lidded eyes as she rose to her knees before lowering herself with steady determination. Her own hands reached up to cup her breasts as the remembered feel of his hands, his lips on them earlier drifted through her consciousness.

Angel purred, his hands on her hips guiding her movements now, rocking her slightly and slowing her pace when she would have hurried.

Leaning down and pressing the softness of her breasts against his chest, Buffy traced his lips with her tongue, then nibbled at his bottom lip. Driven by impulses she did not understand or could not control, she bit him. Hard.

His eyes opened with a start, the initial shock replaced almost instantly with impassioned instinct; as if reacting to some subconscious challenge she had just issued or as if some intrinsic, repressed urge had suddenly been released. Or perhaps it was simply the taste of blood in his mouth that provoked him. No matter what the driving factor was, he was equally powerless to control his response. He tumbled her on her back so quickly she let out a soft sound of surprise.

With graceful roll that did not dislodge him, his large hands slipped under her, cupping her bottom and lifting her to meet his thrust. The tattoo on his back flexed beneath her fingers as he moved, his hips connecting solidly with hers on each firm down stroke.

"Is that what you want?" He whispered heatedly against her ear, his cheek pressed against hers as his lower body continued to move in a powerful rhythm between her thighs. His eyes flashed gold as his features began to shift to his demon visage.

"Yes…" She whimpered softly, her hands clutching at his shoulders, her nails making small half-moon marks along the smooth flesh, as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Wanting him possibly more than she could ever remember, Buffy was trembling on the brink of ecstasy so intense she was sure that she would shatter into a thousand pieces at any second.

Angel's back arched as he drove into her again and again with an almost mindless frenzy, any semblance of his earlier control lost. His eyes were closed as he moved, unaware of the sheer power and violence of his thrusts, his normally rigid control obliterated and his vampiric passions unleashed.

She clung to him, pulling him closer with strong arms and reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair, drawing his head down for a kiss as she met him with her own feverish need. She tested the sharpness of his fangs with her tongue before allowing his to plunge deeply into her mouth. She sucked on it greedily, struggling to get closer to him. Never would she have thought that she craved his dominance, his absolute possession of her with such uncontrollable carnal lust.

Her eyes opened briefly when he broke their kiss, the resplendent green depths meeting the nearly unfathomable glittering gold of his for a brief moment before she closed her eyes again and tilted her head to the side, as if offering her neck to him.

A low growl escaped him as Angel slid his fingers into her hair, cradling the back of her head in his hand. His hips slowed to long, hard strokes as his other arm slipped behind her back. Almost with a jerk, he pulled her tightly against him, arching her back.

"Gráim thú." Angel murmured softly, sliding his lips across her cheek. "I love you."

Buffy moaned when he nuzzled her neck roughly, his tongue sweeping across the now rapidly beating pulse just below the satiny soft skin. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears as the approaching sense of rapture raced through her body with an intensity that was almost frightening. Her senses were saturated with his essence, his overpowering presence.

At the first scrape of his fangs on her throat, her breath hitched. The burning heat of desire licked at her breasts, moving along her spine to culminate at the apex of her thighs, making her weak with a desperate hunger for him. Her eyes opened wide at the first piercing sensation of his bite and she clutched at his back, her nails digging sharply into the firm muscles beneath his tattoo. Despite the sharp, stinging pain she whimpered softly and wantonly arched against him.

Angel slowed his hips to match the rhythm of the slow steady pulls of his mouth of her neck, savoring the taste of her blood, the powerful rich elixir.

She mewled softly, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder as desire poured through her, insistent and powerful. Her body responded eagerly to the rough draw of his kiss, matching his passion with a feverish intensity of her own.

In the next instant reality melted into oblivion. Buffy cried out sharply, as the world fell away with a tumultuous, explosive shower of blue sparks leaving only pure bliss and Angel.

Angel's low groan of release that followed her high piercing cry was unheard.

***
Cordelia clutched the round, dark metal disk in one palm, the slender rod in the other and tentatively stepped into the middle of her hotel room. Sliding the rod into the center of the coin shaped disk, she watched as it began to spin, faster and faster, opening the portal that would take her to her demon guide.

"Skip?" She questioned hesitantly, looking around into the dimly lit stone chamber. Cautiously, she made her way down the dank stairwell and through the arched entrance, stepping carefully to keep from stumbling in the 3' ½ inch heels. She grimaced slightly at the dank atmosphere, briefly annoyed that she had worn her new Kate Spade sandals. The air in here had to be damaging to kidskin.

"Cordelia." Skip greeted her almost coolly, knowing who his visitor was even with his back turned. He had been expecting her, especially now with the news that Whistler had returned.

The dyed blonde glanced around the room with a look of contempt. She hated having to seek him out for help, but she was fast running out of choices.

"You have still not reunited with your champion." The demon sighed heavily, turning to face her.

"So he's an ass. Is that my fault?" Cordelia retorted angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. "Find me another champion. A good one. Someone strong and handsome. Tall, dark hair…" She trailed off almost dreamily before noticing the look of exasperation on the demons's face. Hastily, her tone blunt and waspish, she added, "One in this dimension."

"This is a mission, not a dating service." Skip replied his tone aggrieved. "Besides, you know that I can't do that." Whistler's return did not bode well for either he or Cordelia. His own treachery and dissemblance was apt to be revealed, as was the extent to which he had covered for the seer over the course of the years. He had been contemplating his own options for escape when the dyed blonde had arrived.

"Why the hell not?" She demanded undeterred, skilled at coaxing the demon into doing her bidding.

"The Powers will not allow it. You know the rules as well as I." Skip replied firmly, his tone thoughtful. "To be reassigned to a new champion, your champion must be retired, redeemed or killed."

"That figures." Cordelia muttered under her breath, pacing briskly from one side of the room to the other. What were the chances that Angel would be redeemed in the next few days? She stopped short, tapping her toe impatiently and staring at the rock walls. Not good. Angel's score on the board of points needed for redemption wasn't great, she grudgingly conceded, completely oblivious to the degree to which that was her fault for not telling him about her visions. That left retired or killed…

Whirling back around to face Skip, her brown eyes glittering ruthlessly in the dim light, she asked. "How do champions get retired?"

"Champions are retired when they are redeemed, when their service is no longer required because the need for the duty no longer exists, or when they are simply no longer useful." The demon guide replied, watching the seer intently. He could almost see the gears in her mind turning.

"I don't suppose that's likely to happen to Angel any time soon?" The dyed blonde asked sardonically, knowing full well the extent to which a champion was needed in LA. Her visions had been frequent and increasingly troublesome over the last few years. Of course, what the seer failed to realize, was that had any of those visions been acted upon the trouble would have lessened considerably years ago instead of being allowed to steadily build.

Skip moved his head in a single shake of negation.

"Well, that only leaves the last option, doesn't it?" Cordelia questioned matter-of-factly, studying her fingernails. She clucked slightly when she noticed the small chip in the polish and frowned.

"Cordelia-" Skip began in alarm. Lying, stealing, the occasional obfuscation to allow evil plans to be executed was one thing, but assassinating one of the champions for the Powers… that would put him firmly outside any mercy or leniency with the Powers.

"What? Don't tell me you're going to back out on me now?" With a lift of her eyebrow, the seer looked at Skip with cool disdain. Jabbing her finger in the air, she pointed at him to punctuate her words. "Don't even think about it buster. Like it or not, you're in this with me right up to your Stonehenge shaped eyebrows. If I go down, you go down with me. Got that?"

The demon stared back for a few seconds before finally replying, his voice grave with concern. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Well then thank god you don't need to think. All you need to do is find me another champion. In the meantime, I'm going to try one more love spell. That idiot demon that I had bought that last one from, may his slimy carcass continue to suffer the wrath of hell in his burning little putrid hell hole, said something about a powerful warlock here in LA. That if anyone could help me this guy, Nikkos, could. I suppose he thought that telling me that would save his sorry ass but he thought wrong. *No one* crosses Cordelia Chase and gets away with it." With a toss of her hair, Cordelia spun around toward the stairs again, wondering briefly why the name Nikkos sounded vaguely familiar.

"And if this Nikkos guy can't come up with a spell that works, then how hard can it be to stake one vampire? I mean really?" Cordelia said dismissively, the thought crossing her mind that if Buffy could slay vampires then of course, she, Queen C, could do so easily. Anything Buffy could do, she could do better. That wasn't even a question.

Skip watched her with a troubled expression as she made her way up the stairs and out.

***
Angel stared down at Buffy worriedly and mentally berated himself for what had to be the thousandth time in the last half hour. How could he have been so careless? He cursed the uncontrollable impulse that had unleashed his vampiric tendencies that had led to his marking of her again and he damned himself for what was undoubtedly another weakness of his character that had allowed it to happen now, instead of when he had completely reassured himself that the risks to Buffy were minimized.

He felt her pulse again; it was slow and steady. He nervously wondered whether he should perhaps take her to the hospital. He didn't think he had taken much blood, but it was in the heat of passion… He could have.

He could hear Angelus laughing at him, calling him spineless and weak all the while taunting him with tantalizing reminders of the deliciousness of her blood, particularly when spiced with her arousal. No doubt, it had been a treat to be savored. At the thought Angel castigated himself yet again, and lifted Buffy's hand to his lips. The tattoo like mark around her ring finger was fading, adding further to his worry.

Buffy's eyelids fluttered slightly and she stirred, glancing up at her vampire lover lying next to her and looking down at her with an anxious expression.

"Angel?" Buffy questioned softly, stretching lazily and brushing her hair back from her face.

"Buffy. Are you all right?" he asked cautiously, Nikkos's words about how to break the spell echoing through his mind with unrelenting ferocity.

"Mmm…" She purred softly, smiling and reaching up to slide her arm around his neck. Stretching up, she kissed him lightly on his wounded lower lip. "Sorry about that."

"It's all right." Angel replied quietly, lifting his hand to touch her cheek with controlled movements, still fearful of the unknown consequences of his earlier action. Beneath the healing wounds on her neck, he could see the scar from his original mark reformed.

Buffy's face suddenly turned ashen, her eyes widening as if terror-struck.

The dull ticking of her alarm clock seemed loud in the sudden silence of the room and Buffy briefly wondered if her heart had stopped.

I love him, was her first thought as she looked up in the dark concerned eyes. I really do love him. He'll leave me, was the second. She swallowed and shut her eyes, fighting the overwhelming flood of tears that was threatening to surface.

She gasped for breath as every moment of life with Angel seemed to pass in front of her eyes, from their first meeting to their first kiss, right up through the first time they had made love. Angelus's torments, his angry passion, it all swept through her, as did the day that she had been forced to send her lover to hell.

I never wanted to love him this much, she thought helplessly as the ache in her throat intensified. Oh god. Her baby, their baby…

Her breath hitched and she squeezed her eyes tighter, willing the unwelcome flood of memories and the accompanying emotions away but they continued unabated. Angel, gracefully practicing Tai Chi at the mansion during his recuperation from hell; Angel comforting her after a patrol, holding her close and telling her that he loved her; Angel breaking up with her in a sewer; Angel walking away through a cloud of smoke…

Tears escaped her lashes, seeping from her closed eyes and rolling down her cheeks as her emotions intensified with the torrent of memories. The day that Angel had given back flooded through her mind and she sobbed.

She had known about that day since her return from heaven. She understood, after having played it through her mind dozens of times in heaven and after, why he had given up their chance to be together. If their roles had been reversed, she would have done the same for him. She would have given anything to ensure his safety, even her own life, of that she had no doubt.

At the first sight of her tears, Angel gathered her in his arms. He forced aside the panic that he was feeling and calmly stroked her back, kissing her hair, her forehead and her temple lightly as he whispered love words against her skin.

"I'm sorry Buffy. I didn't- I shouldn't-" Angel murmured softly, his fingertips tracing her jaw as he sought to apologize for biting her, for marking her again. Next to the stillness of his chest Buffy's heart raced with alarming speed, forcing him to realize that he needed to curtail the race of emotions that she was feeling before it was too late. He needed not only to reassure her of his love, his commitment, he needed to convince her of his absolute sincerity.

"Buffy, I was wrong. I should have never left you." He held her to him, ruthlessly pushing aside the fear curling in the pit of his stomach as she shook with the force of her rioting emotions. "I was a coward. Every day I ached for you, wanting you more and more. Every night I went mad, being near you but never close enough. I wanted everything, your scent, your sighs, your tears and laughter. I wanted to share everything with you. I love you. More than you know. I was so afraid I'd give in…afraid that in a moment of weakness I'd surrender it all, my soul, for the chance to touch you, to be with you again. And you deserved so much more than a monster that had to be afraid to touch you, afraid to be too happy with you. I didn't want my limitations to be your limitations. You deserve so much more. You deserve everything. You deserve better than me. And instead of telling you all this, I ran away. I ran away when I should have been holding on to you tighter. Forgive me. I was an idiot, but never again. I'll never leave you again. Never. I promise."

He rocked her gently as her tears warmed his chest. "You're my everything, Buffy. You are my warmth and light. You make me want to be a better man and when I'm with you, I am a better man than I ever dreamt of being. You are the person that guides me out of the darkness. I'm so sorry that I ever hurt you." He spoke quietly, pleadingly, all the while his mind sorted through the possibilities of the spell's ramifications. He was also angry and disappointed with himself for his lack of control. "Now that you let me back into your life, I'm not going away. I'm keeping you with me always, love. Just try and get rid of me this time."

She sniffed slightly, his words penetrating the rush of memories as his hands continued their soothing motions along the bare skin of her back.

"Really?" Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke, her mind struggling to make sense of the sudden barrage of feelings. Absently, she lifted her hand and stroked at the wound on her neck. Beneath the now healing bite she could feel the ridge of the scar that she hadn't seen for almost 4 years. The spell! The spell had broken, which was causing all of her formerly frozen and tucked away feelings to resurface.

"Yes, sweetheart." Angel reached under her chin, tilting her head up to look at her face. "Buffy, sweetheart, look at me."

"No." The small sound escaped her as she shook her head, attempting to postpone facing the truth for a while longer. His bite? Had that been what had broken the spell?

"Please." He gently pressed, lowering his head and brushing her lips with his. "I love you, Buffy. Please. Look at me."

With a cold chill racing down his spine he wondered, looking down into her tightly closed eyes, if he was making any headway at all. Thrusting away the unthinkable, he racked his brain for what else he could say, what else he could do to convince her of his sincerity.

Feeling his tension, the clenching of his muscles as he lay next to her, Buffy slowly opened her eyes, the hazel green touched with the pain of remembrance as she searched his face.

"I love you." Angel whispered almost desperately, his dark eyes filled with a wealth of emotion. He wanted to cry himself at the sadness in her eyes, the tears glistening along her lashes. "Please, Buffy, give me a chance to prove it to you. I promise I won't fail you again."

"I don't know, Angel." She turned her face away from him, miserable and desperate and afraid. Could she believe him now? After so many years and so many broken promises?

"I don't deserve your trust, Buffy, I know that. With the best of intentions - and no little stupidity - I've made mistakes that have hurt you, but I promise you, things will be different this time." He said with absolute conviction in his voice. "You are my everything. Please, let me love you. Love me again."

After almost five seconds of silence, Buffy turned her head back to face him, her green eyes large in the paleness of her face, shadowed with unhappiness and a wariness that he had seen all too often. She looked very young then, and felt so very small, her shoulders easily covered with his hands. He resisted the urge to crush her against him as he waited apprehensively for her answer.

Buffy thought about the time she had spent in the last few weeks with him; the friendly and increasingly intimate phone calls, the dozens of flowers, the incredible sex. His presence in her life was different, this time, or so it appeared. *He* was different. He was no longer afraid to touch her, to kiss her as he had been after his return from hell. He smiled at her, teased her and he had grieved with her over the loss of their child. All things she had always wanted from him but had never dared hope that she would have.

"Come to LA with me and I'll prove it to you," Angel broke into the thoughts, smiling slightly, a rare teasing smile. "You can show me your slaying skills and I can show you off."

Her mind filled with confusion, Buffy dropped her eyes uncertainly and stared at the broad expanse of his chest. She felt as if she was preparing to walk into battle again, unarmed, unclothed. What wounds she received this time she was not sure would heal. With the help of magic she had come to terms with the fact that he was never going to be a part of her life. Dare she believe that had changed? Could she have a future with him as he insisted?

"What makes you think I want to go to LA?" Buffy's voice was small as she struggled with the surging waves of long frozen emotions. Her mind suddenly seized on a reason to go to LA. Nikkos. If nothing else, in LA she could seek out the proprietor of the magic shop and find out just what the hell happened here, tonight. If necessary, perhaps he could even cast the magic spell again. Absently her fingers traced a pattern on Angel's chest as she pondered the change that her life had just taken.

"Consider it a long overdue vacation. Fred and Gunn would like to meet you." He waited, tense with tremulous hope as Buffy contemplated her answer along with the intricate pattern she was drawing on his skin with her fingertips.

"You did say you'd come and back me up on patrol." He prompted lightly.

"Angel, I'm afraid." Buffy replied candidly after a long moment, peeking up at his face from under her lashes. She wasn't talking about demons or slaying and they both knew it.

"I know, love." Angel murmured softly, kissing her temple. She needed his confidence right now, his absolute reassurances of his love, of their future together. He couldn't admit that he was afraid. In fact, he was petrified. Once again he berated himself for his carelessness, his lack of control. He didn't know how fragile she was, what things might break her heart. They were standing on a precipice; but he knew he couldn't lose her. He wouldn't lose her.

"Things aren't always going to be perfect, Buffy. I won't lie to you." Angel caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, "But I make a vow to you, on everything that I hold dear, that I will not let you down again. You own my heart, sweet. I love you."

Buffy searched his face for a moment, trying to tell if the words were simply empty promises made as a courtesy at this moment or if he really meant them. The stoic façade he often wore was gone, his face stripped bare revealing undisguised emotion. In her chest, her heart beat a wild tattoo.

She had loved him from almost the first moment that she had seen him; that hadn't changed with the passage of time or the distance between them. The spell had locked the feelings away for a while, but now, without the protection of magic, the reawakened feelings filled every fiber of her being with an intensity that threatened to take her breath away.

"Okay, Angel. I'll give this a try." Buffy replied on a soft exhalation of breath, feeling a sense of relief, a burgeoning sense of joy, a tremulous uncertainty and a quavering fear all rolled up into one package. She was so comfortable in his arms. How easy it would be to get used to this, to wake up beside him every day, to have him in her life again. Dare she believe that they would finally be allowed to have a life together?

Gathering her close, Angel kissed her, a smiling kiss that tasted of love, of wonder, and of hope. The future seeped into his thoughts like golden sunshine, covering every corner of his mind with blissful visions of love.

Angel rolled over with fluid grace, drawing Buffy to lie atop him as the kiss slowly turned from warm sunshine to the heated flames of desire and the low burn of need. He showed her then with actions what he had professed earlier in words.

They made love with extravagant tenderness, each lingering kiss melting into the next, each touch rare, sweet and precious. Over the next few hours they explored the nuances of sensation with quiet desperation, both too aware that they were finally, blissfully together again.

***
The drive to LA in the early hours of the morning was peaceful and silent, lit with such a nearly perfect magical moonlight that Angel teased Buffy that he had ordered it just so for her. Buffy was, in turn, agreeably affectionate, sliding across the wide seat of the GTX to curl next to him. He draped his arm around her shoulder while she rested her hand on his thigh.

They chatted in easy friendship about various topics of interest, Angel careful to stay clear of any mention of baby Liam or of Giles's ill health until he felt more reassured about Buffy's well-being.

When Angel finally stopped the car in front of a beautifully restored three-story craftsman style house just two blocks from the beach, Buffy looked at him curiously.

"This doesn't look like the monstrosity of a hotel that you said you lived in. This looks… actually cute." She questioned as Angel opened the door and got out of the car.

Shrugging slightly, Angel walked around the car to open Buffy's door. He retrieved her bag from the trunk, then reached for her hand and led her through the small, gated courtyard that was landscaped as a peaceful Japanese style garden complete with a fountain.

She took in the surroundings with a bemused smile, before glancing back at Angel's face. He seemed to be searching for words.

"I… that is Angelus…" He began awkwardly, unlocking the door. He took an unnecessary breath and looked down at her. Seized with a sudden impulse, he swung her up and settled her comfortably in his arms then kissed her, a gentle welcoming kiss as he kicked open the door.

"Hey, I remember you," Buffy murmured softly, her green eyes sparkling with joy at his romantic gesture. "And what's this about Angelus?"

"I hope so." Angel replied, kissed her nose lightly as he set her on her feet and closed the door behind him. "Angelus bought this place… for you… a few years back."

"A few years back?"

"Yes." He shifted on his feet, embarrassed about the disclosure but determined to be honest with her.

Through the colored window glass, the nearby streetlight partially illuminated the room with a jewel-like iridescence, providing glimpses of the rich honey color wood flooring and the plush, partly covered deep sage green sofa. The room was sparsely furnished and dusty from lack of use, but she could easily tell that it was both tasteful and cozy. No doubt, knowing Angel or even Angelus' taste, the furnishings were also likely expensive.

"This would be when you lost your soul with Cordy?" Buffy asked, walking forward and glancing into the kitchen before moving up the stairs. She remembered what Willow had told her about restoring Angel's soul after it had been taken from him.

"Yes. No. Not exactly." The tall vampire grimaced, his own memories of that time clouded, as they were those of his demon.

"Oh." Buffy glanced at Angel over her shoulder briefly as she turned into the bedroom. She was curious about what had happened then, but they had time for that conversation later. "Why for me?"

"He was planning on getting you back."

Still following behind her, Angel stopped just over the threshold of the bedroom door. Buffy continued into the room and stopped before the large tester bed that almost filled the small space. The tall, dark wood posts were ornate and intricately carved, as was the headboard. The new mattress, lush and thick, was covered with a single white protective sheet.

"Really?" Buffy questioned as she walked to the head of the bed and tugged aside the burgundy silk bed curtains that hung just behind the headboard to reveal heavy gauge iron chain rings that had been securely mounted on the wall.

Quirking one eyebrow upward, she looked back at Angel. "Nice. Oh, and look. There are a couple there on the ceiling as well… isn't that interesting?" Her voice was amused as her gaze swept over him suggestively. "Who's your decorator? Maybe I can have them give me a few suggestions for my place."

He gazed at her for a long moment, perceptive of the subtle changes in her body as her desire surprisingly began to stir. Her pulse beat picked up slightly, her body temperature moving up a degree. He clamped down hard on his demon, as Angelus practically howled with lust inside him at the signs of Buffy's interest.

"For those?" His voice was low, husky when he answered her, his eyes flicking to the objects in question for a brief second before returning to hers. "My demon."

Buffy laughed and the sound touched him from across the room, as if he were attuned to the slightest nuance of her moods.

His dark eyes on her warmed her, heated her blood and filled her with a wild, reckless abandon. None of the lovers that she had taken in the past had been interested in sexual games. Riley had been too conservative; Spike had suggested it but she had never been interested. Perhaps, she thought, because she had never really trusted him.

"Not everyone gets to pass the buck of responsibility like that." She teasingly replied, watching as Angel calmly set her bag in the nearby chair and began to move toward her like a great, dark panther.

"I'll give him credit only for the bed and for those." Angel stopped and pulled the covering off an antique full-length mirror that stood in the corner of the room, next to a bureau of the same design. "The mirror and the drawers, I bought. I wanted the place to be girl friendly. Buffy friendly."

Her tears appeared with such suddenness that Angel moved quickly to sweep her into his arms, a flash of panic exploding in his brain. What had he done?

"Buffy, I'm sorry. If you don't like them-"

"No. Angel. No." Buffy slid her hands up his arms, her fingers squeezing his biceps, her mossy green eyes inches away from his. He remembered! He remembered that she had asked for a mirror and a drawer. She smiled through her tears, wiping at her eyes with one hand. "I love them. I do. I just didn't think that you would have remembered…" She trailed off with a whisper. That small gesture touched her heart deeply.

"I remember everything about you, love." Smiling down into her face, a sense of relief flooding through him he hugged her close.

"Everything?" Buffy murmured, sliding her hands up his arms to his shoulders before looping them around his neck.

"Everything." He whispered against her ear while slowly backing her toward the bed. "But I'm always willing to learn something new…"

With a quick flick of his wrist, the dusty sheet that had been covering the mattress drifted to the floor.

"Mmm…" Buffy nuzzled his cheek as a shiver of anticipation, of need ran through her. Being with Angel, feeling his strength, his power under her fingertips was like an aphrodisiac. She knew that he had business to take care of in LA, he had mentioned it as the reason why he needed to return, but just then she wondered if she was going to be able to let him out of her sight, much less out of their bed. Particularly with lascivious thoughts of him naked and chained to the bed dancing through her mind.

"You always said we should have tried chains…" She purred suggestively, tracing his ear with one fingertip as her tongue ran across her lips to moisten them. Her next mental picture was of her, at his mercy in the large bed while he tortured her with wicked, unimagined delights.

"Later." His voice was tight with constraint even as his hands roved over her denim-clad hips. He felt like an untried youth, his erection pulsing painfully from her few brief words. He was suddenly dangerously out of control wanting her, the earlier wildness flaring through his senses as visions of Buffy naked and tied to his bed roared through his mind.

"Promise?" Buffy teased, pushing his coat down his arms, her eyes burning into his. He shrugged out of it and tossed it aside.

"Yes." Angel growled softly in reply as his demon began to offer his own lewd suggestions. His hands cupped her behind, hauling her against his fiercely aroused body as his lips descended on hers.

Buffy's hands ran over his back and down his hips to squeeze his behind before one hand slipped between them to cup his arousal in her hand possessively.

Having her here, in the very room that Angelus had entertained his many wicked fantasies for his mate combined with the feel of her small hands on his body was spurring his lust for her to dangerous heights. His ravenous need for her was almost unprecedented in his existence, so nearly uncontrollable and so brutally powerful that he could feel it clamoring through his body with delicious insistence.

"I don't know if I can be gentle," he warned, breaking off their kiss and tugging Buffy's shirt over her head and removing her bra with nimble fingers.

"I know I can't." Buffy replied, ripping the last button on his shirt in her haste to get it off of him. She pressed open-mouthed kisses to his chest, alternating with bites and delighting in the low vibration of his purring growl beneath her lips. Her hand worked at his belt as her mind screamed to hurry, wanting him now with a relentless, demanding fury.

"Take your pants off." Angel ordered, his voice low and fierce as he pushed her hand aside to remove his belt.

Buffy eagerly tugged at the buttons on her pants, stripping them down her hips along with the frothy lace of her panties. When she was assured of Angel's attention, she hopped up on the bed behind her and lay back with exaggerated slowness. Bending first one leg then the other, she propped her feet on the bed. Her gaze trained on his face, she slowly parted her thighs.

"Don't move." He instructed in a husky deep voice, his eyes moving over her possessively in the dim light of the room, drinking in her beauty easily with his preternatural eyesight.

"Then hurry." Her eyes trained on her vampire lover, her hand drifted between her legs to brush across the wet lips of her labia before seeking the swollen, pulsing nub hidden in the pink folds. She rubbed gently on the pulse point of desire, a small whimper escaping her lips.

It was too much for him in his currently aroused state. In a blur of movement he unzipped his pants and shoved them down his hips. He crawled over her on the bed, lifted her hips in his large hands and thrust inside her with such force that it left Buffy breathless for a long moment.

When she did move, she took him by surprise, twisting her hips and flipping him over, moving quickly to straddle his hips and reseat herself on his erection.

Angel closed his eyes briefly as he slid back into her hot welcoming body, insensate to anything except his love, his mate, his wife as she lowered herself on his rigid length, surrounding him with wet heat.

She released a small rapturous sob as she sank down on him to the hilt, the sound echoing Angel's own fevered longing as her thighs brushed his hips. He filled her so fully, so completely she felt absolutely consumed by him, and he by her.

Buffy moved with increasingly frantic motions, arching her back and dropping her head back as orgasmic sensation was fast overtaking her.

Watching her with half-closed eyes, he reached up and lightly cupped her breasts in his hands, feeling them bounced against his palms as she panted heavily and rode him hard. Reaching between her legs, he found the swollen nub of her clitoris and pinched it delicately between his fingers as she gasped and ground down on him.

Buffy melted around him on the next powerful down thrust, her tight channel clenching around him and coating him with the liquid evidence of her desire. She wanted him with a deep, insatiable craving.

Angel could feel the convulsing spasms of her climax and he gritted his teeth, moving his hands to grasp the firm swell of her bottom and guide her movements, forcing her to resume her rhythm. He pushed her higher, harder bracing his feet and surging upward to meet her.

One of her small hands curled against his chest, her nails digging in slightly to the muscle on his chest just above his nipple as her breath hitched and a second climax began to build inside her. When he recognized the erratic breathing of her impending orgasm, he rolled her beneath him with one quick movement.

"Noo…" Buffy moaned softly and clutched at him when he pulled back, his withdrawal stroking every inch of her sensitized tissue until only the tip of his erection remained inside her. She pulled him back fiercely when he drove into her again, this time pushing them both across the bed. He lapped at the almost healed wound on her neck with his tongue, his eyes flashing gold as he struggled to keep the demon in check.

Inflamed, overwrought, she abruptly bit his neck.

With a snarl, his features morphing into his demon visage, Angel sank his fangs into her earlier wound, the warmth of her blood filling his mouth. Putting his full force into his next thrust, he rammed upward sliding them across the bed again as Buffy's legs wrapped around his waist.

Buffy tasted his blood in her mouth and cried out in fevered appeal, wanting more, wanting him, wanting the delicious glory that could be found in his arms.

They mated brutally, excessively, and savagely; their preternatural natures unleashed and out of control.

When her second orgasm erupted, he poured his release into her unprotected body with reckless abandon.

They both lay prostrate on the bed for some time after, Angel's face buried in Buffy's hair near her shoulder, Buffy smothered under the braced weight of Angel's large form, until gradually the vibrations of pleasure receded.

"We're gonna have to dust." Buffy wrinkled her nose, noting the dust motes hanging in the air near the tiny sliver of sunlight that peeked in through the part in the heavy velvet curtains that covered the window. "And get some sheets for the bed."

"Yeah." Angel replied, his voice muffled by her hair.

"And we need food." Buffy added, her hand absently rubbing his back as he began to purr against her. She smiled.

A long moment later he lifted his head and smiled down at her. "I think I have sheets, some where. But we'll have to go out for food." He brushed a gentle kiss against her lips. "Or rather, order in for food."

"Mmm… yes." Buffy kissed him then, a sweet teasing kiss that prompted Angel to kiss her again, thoroughly, completely and with considerable attention to detail.

Food, cleaning and any other needs were forgotten for several more hours as they explored the earthly pleasures of the bond that held them together.

 

 

 

Part XIII

 

His footsteps echoing on the tile floor, Whistler crossed the wide expanse of the hotel lobby and headed for the stairs. There were no lights on, no sounds, no signs of activity anywhere within the Hyperion nor had there been for the last two days.

Picking the lock with a nimble adeptness that belied his often inept and bungling appearance, Whistler let himself into Angel's suite of rooms. As he closed the door behind him, he wondered for a few brief seconds when the vampire had become so particular about his privacy. For as long as he had known him and despite the expensive furnishings and art that he had acquired over the years, Angel rarely locked his doors - or so Whistler had thought - until now.

Strolling through the utter stillness, Whistler saw nothing that would give away the vampire's whereabouts. Sighing, he returned to the living room and opened the cabinet where Angel kept a few bottles of liquor stashed. With a murmur of appreciation, the small demon sniffed the half-empty decanter of Scotch before pouring a healthy draught. Nothing like the Irish to keep good whiskey around, he thought with a twinkle of a smile, lifting his glass in toast before drinking the amber contents in one quick swallow.  He refilled his glass and ambled over to the sofa, collapsing onto it with a heavy thud.

The things that he had discovered since his return from Saggaria disturbed him more than just a little, beginning with Doyle's death. That bit of news had been a shock and a disappointment. He grieved for his fallen friend with resigned acceptance; death of those he cared about was a much too often occurrence in this world and especially in this particular line of work. 

Whistler exhaled slowly, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink, savoring the taste of the strong liquor this time. Doyle's misguided choice of Cordelia as his successor might possibly have been the worst choice that the demon could have made. 

Shaking his head ruefully, Whistler thought about his friend. There was no doubt that Doyle had always been easily influenced by a pretty face. In fact, his easy susceptibility and weakness for beautiful women had been a bit of a joke between the two of them for years. That combined with the fact that the Irish demon tended to look for the best in people, always optimistic that with a little patience and encouragement you could help anyone find the good and noble path had surely been the reason for his misguided choice. But Doyle hadn't been a complete fool; eventually he knew his friend would have seen the narcissistic, vicious and shrewd woman that lay beneath the beautiful façade. Sadly, he hadn't had the time.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes Whistler thought about the months and years that had passed while he had been gone. He finished his drink and stood, ambling to the small kitchenette and setting the glass in the sink. No sense waiting around here all day. If and when Angel returned to the Hyperion, it wouldn't be until nightfall. In the meantime, Whistler thought, he could do a little more research on just what had been going on.  As he closed the door quietly behind him, he couldn't help the tremor of fear that passed through him at the thought that he was back just a little too late to make things right.

"Be careful." Angel bent and kissed Buffy's lips gently as she stopped just inside the front door. She tucked the credit card that he insisted she take in her purse along with the grocery list that he had written down for her.

"It's just shopping, honey. Not slaying." Buffy's voice was teasing as she turned to face him, leaning back against the heavy oak door with both hands behind her back. Her smile at him was impish. "Although, I honestly can't say that I haven't been tempted to slay at Nordstrom's half yearly sales. Those can be vicious."

At the look on his face, she laughed slightly and kissed him. "I'm kidding. It's not like I'm going to run into anything demony. And even if I do, see,"  reaching in her bag she retrieved a stake, something she always carried with her, "prepared."

"I know. I just . I worry." Moving forward, he pressed her back against the door as he brushed another kiss on her cheek before sliding his lips to her neck.

"I promise I've shopped safely many times before." She arched her neck giving him better access to the smooth skin of her throat as goose bumps formed on her arms. Her palms flat on his chest, she ran her hands up slowly to the rounded caps of his shoulders.

"And with a lot less incentive to come home." Her voice was soft against his ear, quavering slightly with the intensity of her emotions. Their recent hours together lingered in her mind, saturating her senses with him and filling her with a quiet joy.

Angel lifted his head, his face serious as he looked down at her. He touched her face gently with his fingers, tracing her jaw line, her cheek, her lips. He could no longer imagine his life without her in it. His need for her both excited him and terrified him in equal measure.

His eyes drifted closed as he bent his head to kiss her. At the first velvety, brushing contact of their lips they both sighed softly and melted together. Buffy twined her arms around his neck and she molded herself against his hard, muscled body in flagrant invitation even as he pressed her back against the door.

After a long moment, Angel reluctantly lifted his head and let Buffy catch her breath.

"I should go." Buffy murmured softly, without conviction, her gaze drifting over Angel's face before stopping again on his lips. She hadn't moved, her body still tightly pressed against his. He was so beautiful, she thought, his hair still rumpled from sleep and from her fingers running through it. He stood there in front of her barefoot and shirtless, looking down at her with dark eyes so sensual and compelling that she felt a frisson of heat spike through her veins.

"You should go." He replied, sighing softly, his forehead resting against hers. How were they ever going to manage their lives when they couldn't even stand to be apart for a few hours?  "The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back."

"This is me. I'm going." Buffy inhaled deeply and leaned back from him, her own thoughts an echo of his. A tiny shiver of fear crept along her spine at the thought of ever losing him again, but she pushed it away, unwilling to consider the possibility while held safely in his arms. As if to justify to herself and to him why she needed to go, she added, "We *have* to have food." Her voice trailing off with a sigh. She'd much rather prolong the insulated, sequestered pleasure of their new life and their rediscovered love.

Forcing himself to take a step back, Angel smiled at her as he recalled her stomach rumbling in hunger under his ear just a few hours earlier. "Yes, we do."

He bent to kiss her again, the touch of his lips delicate and restrained this time.

Buffy's eyes twinkled with mischief as she turned the knob on the door, "I'll bring you a surprise."

"Just bring you - and my car - back safely." He touched the tip of her nose with his finger.

"I knew it! You're just worried about your big beastie of a car." She teased as she opened the door. Blowing him a kiss she stepped out to the covered porch.

"Remember that scratch on the hood? That was already there," Buffy called out behind her as she walked through the gated courtyard, "and so was the dent in the fender."

"Just be careful, love."

Angel watched from the shadows just inside the doorway, his eyes fixed on the gentle swing of her hips as she strolled down the walk. Just outside the gate, she turned to face him again, smiling brightly and blowing him another kiss before climbing into the car and roaring away from the curb.  A small sound, almost a whimper, escaped his lips as the tires hit the curb squarely when she made a right turn at the corner.  He mentally pleaded with anyone that would listen that both Buffy and his car make it back in one piece.

Sighing heavily, Angel said another small prayer for her safety and closed the door. Trooping back up the stairs, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and sat on the bed, now made with the sheets and blankets that he had found in the linen closet only a few hours ago.

The first order of business was to get the house cleaned.  He dialed information and asked for the number of a cleaning service.

Connor jogged back into the parking lot of the hotel where he had been staying with Gunn, Fred and Amelia since Angel had sent them all away from the Hyperion.  He slowed to a walk when he reached the stairs, but took them two at a time until he reached the third floor corner where their rooms were.

Gunn allowed him to get out every day for a few hours of exercise, knowing that the waiting and inactivity was making them all tense and edgy.  Thankfully, Connor thought as he stopped at the vending machine for a soda, Gunn underestimated how far and how fast he could really move, otherwise he might have second thoughts about the time he allotted him to be out alone.

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Connor knocked on Gunn and Fred's door, shouting a greeting that he was back as was required as part of the deal that he get to go for a run on his own. He continued down the walkway, reaching in his pocket for the card key to his room.

He was curious about the demon that he'd seen leaving his father's rooms at the hotel today, particularly since he had known that Angel had locked his door when he had left. On inspection, nothing obvious had been taken. Nothing, that is, other than some of Angel's expensive Scotch. He'd followed the man down the street until he had entered a cheap hotel just a few blocks down from the Hyperion. He made a mental note of the address, then turned and raced back to the Four Seasons before he was missed.

His father would probably be upset to know that he'd been back to the Hyperion several times and that he had been searching for Cordelia on his own.  Not that he harbored any illusions that she cared for him, not any longer.  He was angry and embarrassed that he had been so easily manipulated, and he was more than a little hurt that something that had meant so much to him - their relationship - apparently meant nothing to her. And now, quite simply, he didn't trust her.  

Of all of them at Angel Investigations, Connor perhaps knew Cordelia best. She had shown him a side of herself that he knew that the others had never suspected had lain beneath the saintly façade she had managed to create.  He knew, without a doubt, that she could be single-minded, determined, and dangerous.

None of which he suspected boded well for his father.

Satisfied that the amount of money promised for immediacy and expediency would ensure that the cleaning crew would arrive within the hour, Angel dialed Gunn's cell number.

"Angel? That you?" Gunn answered on the second ring, his voice touched with frustration and no small amount of worry.  It had been three days since he, Fred, Amelia and Connor had checked into the Four Seasons hotel, waiting for any word from Angel and had heard nothing. Angel's cell phone had gone unanswered, the messages left for him unreturned. Gunn had begun to fear that perhaps the vampire had met his final fate. "Where the hell have you been? We thought you were dead."

"Yeah? Well, that hasn't changed."  Angel's brow quirked upward slightly and he shifted the phone to the other ear, opening the various drawers of the bureau and the closet door in the bedroom, reacquainting himself with the contents of the house.  In his search, he found a few articles of clothing that Angelus had left in the house: a black Japanese silk brocade robe, two pairs of pajama bottoms, several silk shirts, and three pairs of leather pants. He held the leather pants out in front of him and grimaced slightly. He needed a change of clothing, but this wasn't exactly what he had in mind.  It's an improvement from your typical attire, should you ask me. His demon sniffed somewhat indignantly. Besides, Buffy loves them.

"You know what I meant." Gunn grumbled irritably, although he was relieved to finally hear his friend's voice.

"I've had a few things to take care of." Angel replied distractedly, answering his demon with the next thought. I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?

"Cordelia? Did you find her? Is she-" Gunn asked, stopping abruptly as his eyes met his wife's as she walked over to look at him anxiously, the mention of Angel's name having drawn her interest. Still staring up at him with wide eyes, she rocked Amelia gently and sat next to her husband on the bed.

"Not exactly." Angel reluctantly answered, increasingly convinced that he hadn't handled the situation with his seer as he should have. That's an understatement. Had you snapped her neck as I suggested, this would not even be a consideration now, the demon muttered in a mocking voice.

"What do you mean, not exactly?  Angel, talk to me man. We've been sitting on our asses here for three days." Scowling churlishly, Gunn stood and paced across the room. His voice dropped to an angry whisper. "I moved my wife and baby out of our home, I'm keeping an eye on your son and you're not even keeping me in the loop here. Now tell me what the hell is going on."  The last sentence came out in an explosive burst of impatient anger.

Chagrined that he had all but forgotten his friends in the calamitous events of the last few days, Angel began somewhat apologetically, "Sorry. I know it's been hard for you guys as well. Some things came up that were. unexpected. How's Connor holding up?"

The demon within him snorted, but said nothing. Why are you stirring anyway? You've been quiet for days. Angel mentally questioned even as he attempted to shift his attention back to Gunn.

Like you could have heard me anyway over your grunts or the Slayer's delightful little screams? Angelus muttered, his tone undeniably jealous.

"Hey - he's fine. We're all fine. Things could be worse than hanging out here," Gunn looked through the curtain at the perfectly manicured gardens and sparkling blue pool below. "but I need to know what you're doing. I need to know that my family will be safe."

"Nothing will happen to any of you if I can help it." Angel declared firmly, "Just stay out of sight until I find Cordelia and deal with her."  And kill her. Don't forget that part. Oh, wait? Are they too fragile to hear the truth?

"You know what you're going to do with her?" Gunn asked quietly, careful to not alarm Fred or wake the now sleeping baby.

Well, how about we take her to a nice dinner, followed by a movie and a quick fuck, then we can see if she wants to get back together. Shit. What a dumb ass. What the hell does he think?

"Whatever I have to do to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone else." His answer was underscored with lethal softness, sure and unequivocal. 'Bout time, but let's back those words up with action this time soul boy, shall we? The demon continued his running commentary, despite the fact that Angel was ignoring him.

"You need any help?"

"No, no thanks. This is my problem." Angel took a deep breath of unneeded air as he descended the stairs and turned into the kitchen. His own complacency had led him into this situation, now he needed to get himself out of it, along with his family and friends that he had unwittingly drawn into it with him. "I'll take care of it. Just stay there for a few more days. I'm back in LA now so you should be able to reach me if you need anything."

"Back? You go somewhere?" Gunn questioned almost hesitantly. He was suddenly struck with the thought that perhaps Cordelia's actions had an additional impetus, maybe as those of a woman scorned. "Like say, Sunnydale?"

Angel's reply was only a muffled noise as he answered a knock on the door. Gunn couldn't hear quite what he was saying, as the vampire was apparently holding his hand over the phone, but he could hear the voice of what was obviously a woman laughingly reply to him. 

"Sorry." Angel came back on the phone.

"Are you with Buffy, man?" Gunn inquired with anxiety in his voice. "Because I'm not at all sure that's such a good idea. The last thing we need is Angelus in the mix now."

"There's nothing for you to worry about. My soul is bound." Yes, we tested that quite thoroughly. Angelus replied petulantly, although I'm still hoping something will knock it loose here again. Under his breath, Angel muttered. "Just another thing Cordelia knew and didn't tell me."

Gunn considered Angel's answer along with the trace of guardedness evident in the vampire's voice for a moment before he spoke. "Okay, man. If you're sure."

"I am." Angel flatly replied, watching as the four women who had come to clean the house bustled off in various directions.

"Still, if you need any help-"

"Thanks. I appreciate that but I'll deal with it." His voice was soft, his decision made days before, hours before. "Hey, can I talk to Fred?"

"Sure. Hold on."

Angel waited until Fred's voice sounded on the phone. He asked about her and Amelia with controlled impatience before shifting the conversation to the topic at the forefront of his mind.

"Fred, I need a favor. Would you see what records you can find for a Buffy Summers in one of the local hospitals? Try Good Samaritan off of 7^th.  I need to see what records they have for her and for her baby."  Angel paused, feeling a wave of sadness wash over him with the reminder of their loss. "The baby's name is- was . Liam Angelus Summers." 

He wanted to know as much as he could about his son, but he couldn't put Buffy through that conversation again. It had given her nightmares and it had made her physically sick. No, he couldn't do that to her again. Not yet, maybe not ever.

"And anything from a." Pausing, Angel searched his mind for the name of the funeral home that he had seen that night when searching through Buffy's things. "Cunningham and O'Connor Mortuary for the baby. This would have been sometime in June of '99."

The young mother's heart wrenched at the thought of a baby's death. Even without knowing the baby's mother, death of the young and innocent always seemed to be more grievously wrong somehow.  Of course she had heard Buffy's name before and knew that she was Angel's ex, but she had no idea that the young girl had ever had a baby much less lost one. And a baby she had named 'Angelus'.

Fred made a few notes on the desk pad and told Angel that she would get back to him as soon as she found anything out. Luckily she had brought a laptop from the Hyperion so she could start with some online research almost immediately.

"Angel." She was both avidly curious about his interest in the baby and deeply sympathetic for Buffy. What a terrible thing for her to have suffered.

"Thank you." Angel interrupted before she could ask any questions. He told her everything that he intended to; anything more would have to wait until he had the time to come to terms with his son's death himself.

Sensing that the topic was closed, Fred changed the subject. "Where are you staying, Angel?  Do you want me to get you a room here at the Four Seasons with us?"

"The Four Seasons?" Angel's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he moved out of the way of the cleaning lady that bustled by him in the kitchen. The young woman smiled brightly at him and began the arduous task of removing the dishes from the cabinet so that they could all be freshly scrubbed as requested. 

He grimaced at the mention of the hotel, anticipating yet another steep bill to pay. "Could you have found some where more expensive?"

"Well, Cordelia always said that this was one of the better places and that." Fred glanced at Gunn, trailing off sheepishly as she realized that the cost had never even occurred to her.

"Never mind, Fred. It's fine." Angel replied exasperatedly, mentally noting that he'd have to have a talk with the AI team about expenses from here on out. They had run fast and loose with money for much too long, thanks to Cordelia's influence.

"Thanks again for your help. I'll see you guys in a day or two." Angel snapped off the phone and nodded once more at the girl who was watching him and smiling. He was unaware of the interest that he was generating in the young maid, standing there shirtless and barefoot.

He checked the time on the kitchen clock before walking back into the living room, searching for a small corner out of the way now that the house with buzzing with activity, the house cleaners busily at work.

Next he dialed Nikkos's number.

**

Buffy eased the black Plymouth over to the right and angled into the open space. She thanked her lucky stars for not only finding a parking spot on the congested street just a few blocks down from Magos Exousia, but an end space at that which gave her plenty of extra room to attempt to park the unfamiliar car.

She had worried enough at the thought of trying to parallel park Angel's boat of a car in the busy west LA neighborhood with it's congested streets. As it was, even pulling directly into the space on her first attempt she was still almost a foot and a half away from the curb.

Putting the car in reverse, she began to back up to move the car further into the somewhat narrow parking spot. A car behind her honked, startling her, and she slammed on the brakes. Her head swiveled around to look behind her at the driver in the big white SUV. She stared back over her shoulder until the impatient driver roared around her, making an obscene hand gesture and shouting something that Buffy couldn't quite make out over the roar of the car's engine. Obviously he had thought to swoop in on her spot, mistaking her movements as exiting the space rather than trying to park.  

With a small shrug of her shoulders, she resolutely turned her attention back to the demands of parking the big GTX. With only three more seesaw maneuvers, she managed to get the car reasonably close to the curb.

A pleased smile on her face, Buffy exited the car and started down the street.

**

Cordelia parked her yellow jeep in the first open space near Magos Exousia, unconcerned about the painted symbol on the asphalt now beneath her tires or the blue handicapped sign that clearly marked the spot. She wasn't planning on being in the shop long and besides, those spaces were almost always empty.

As she glanced over at the sign to the shop, she knew now why the name Nikkos sounded familiar. She had been to the very same shop several times in the past with Angel and she knew that the vampire had been friends of sorts with the man who ran the shop.

Frowning at the perceived tiny complication, Cordy tilted the rearview mirror and checked her makeup. She smoothed her brows and reapplied her lipstick, contemplating what to say to Nikkos.  Since he knew Angel, then she would likely need some excuse as to why she needed a love spell.

Tilting the mirror back up, her eyes widened at what appeared to be Angel's car creeping along the street several blocks down. Before she could get a good look at the driver, a delivery van crossed the street and stopped just behind her, blocking the car from view.

Cordelia's heart raced for a moment before she forced herself to calm. The sun was directly behind her and still above the horizon shining brightly so it couldn't possibly be Angel. Barring any unusual circumstance that would allow him move around without harm in the sunlight, there was the simple fact that he never let anyone else drive his car, ever, which meant that it couldn't be Connor or anyone else from AI. Regardless, when she opened her door she cautiously glanced down the street, holding her hand over her eyes to shield them from the late afternoon sun. The car was now parking rather inexpertly into a parallel spot, the driver a small shadowed silhouette.

Nope. That confirmed it. That could not possibly be Angel. Besides the fact that it was daylight and that the driver was much too small to be the tall vampire, Angel drove that car expertly, like it was part of him.

It had to be purely coincidence, the similarity of the car to his. Dismissing the momentary distraction from her mind, the seer grabbed her bag off the seat and headed into the magic shop.

At the sound of the door chime, Nikkos casually looked up from the counter where he had been reviewing the inventory list of a recent order. None of his surprise showed on his face when he recognized the dyed blonde seer as his latest patron.

"Ah, Miss Cordelia Chase." Nikkos greeted politely, albeit without any warmth in his voice. "What brings you to Magos Exousia today?"

"You know me?" Cordelia ran a hand over her hair, preening as the smile on her face changed from the fake plastered on one that she had been wearing to one of genuine pleasure. This was going to be easier than she had thought if he remembered her. Men tended to go out of their way for her because of her beauty; this one would obviously be no different.

 "Of course. I never forget a face." Nikkos replied blandly, studying the seer closely as if attempting to discern her motives for visiting him or the magic shop this late afternoon.

"Oh." The dyed blonde batted her eyelashes theatrically, further assured that charming the proprietor of the magic shop was going to be a piece of cake. "We've met then?"

"Yes, a few times." The blue-eyed warlock answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm so sorry." Cordy replied flirtatiously, reaching over the counter to touch Nikkos affectionately on the arm. "I just get that a lot, you know, men always saying that they know me or that I'm somehow familiar. It's such an overused pick up line." 

"Ah." Nikkos replied, his eyes flitting down to her hand on his arm. It might be overused, he thought with a small smile, but he bet it worked often with the former brunette. Shrugging slightly, he stepped back out of her reach and took the small orb that sat on the counter in his hand. He busied himself with replacing it in the case below. 

"You're Nikkos then, right?" Cordelia inquired brightly, completely missing the smirk on the warlock's face.

"That's what I've been told." Nikkos nodded, his blue eyes once more returning to her face. Although he had once thought her beautiful, under further consideration he revised his opinion. She was artificial and insincere. Her demonic countenance was too obvious to someone familiar with such things, or so he thought, noting the complete absence of any warmth in her eyes along with the trace of maliciousness that graced her fake smile.  Her body was curvaceous, but he could see evidence of the overindulgence in sweets and lack of physical activity rapidly changing the muscle tone to fat in the next few years. He slowly shook his head. What Angel had ever seen in her, he could not even begin to understand.

"Listen, I need your help." She stated earnestly, shifting her stance to lean over the counter with her ankles crossed in what she was sure was a seductive pose. Not to mention, it would give the man a nice view of her cleavage, should he choose to look.

"You do, do you?" Nikkos asked, his tone amused. Did she really think that she could bat her eyelashes and show him her breasts and he'd be falling over himself to help her out?

"Well *I* don't exactly. It's. It's for a friend of mine." Cordelia spontaneously improvised, seized with an idea.

"A friend?" The warlock's brows lifted slightly in question.

"Yes, a friend."  Her tone was more confident as the spontaneous lie began to take shape in her mind. With melodramatic sadness in her voice, she continued, "It's sad really and I've told her time and again that she needs to move on, but she hasn't. You see, she sees Angel and I together and how happy we are and it just breaks her heart. She wants what we have so very badly."

"Oh really?" He asked with leisurely indifference, his baby blue eyes bemused as he watched the seer. He could almost see her mind working as she developed her story.

"Yes, you see she's desperately in love with someone who doesn't love her. It's pathetic really, but my heart is just breaking for her; she's so lonely and so sad. And I want to do something to help her. I need to help her. After all, she is such an old and dear friend."

At the sound of the door chiming behind her, Cordelia glanced back over her shoulder and cast an irritated look at the intruder.  Nikkos wave a greeting to the young woman, who turned right and disappeared behind the shelves into the store once again leaving them alone.

Turning back to face the warlock, Cordelia continued in a conspiratory whisper,  "So I was told that, well, that if anyone could help me, er- her, that you could."

"Is that so?" Nikkos impudently questioned, although his cheeky manner completely went over the dyed blonde's head.

"Yes."  She said, her voice low as if disclosing a confidence. With a sad and pleading look on her face, she reached out again and touched Nikkos on the arm. "I want to get my friend a love spell."

"A love spell?" The warlock questioned thoughtfully, his eyes dropping to Cordelia's hand on his arm.

"Yes." She beamed happily, pleased with her excuse and growing increasingly certain of its effectiveness in getting her what she wanted. How easy men were to manipulate, she thought with a small smile.

With a small gasp, Cordelia jerked her hand back in stunned surprise as a small but somewhat powerful shock seemed to emanate from the warlock's body. She stared at him warily, shaking her now stinging hand.

"Well then, love spell books are on the 2^nd aisle over." Dismissing her, Nikkos turned back to the list of items that he had been reviewing when the seer had arrived in the store.

Attempting to hide her growing irritation, Cordelia pressed on insistently. "No, you don't understand. The spell I- uh, the spell she needs has to be a very powerful love spell. One that would work on a vampire. I don't want some lame ass smoke and mirrors crap for the tourists or wanna be wiccas."  Her voice growing higher and louder, she demanded, "I want the real deal. I *need* the real deal." 

Nikkos turned his attention back to the dyed blonde, his eyebrows lifting upward in question as a small sound of revelation escaped him.

"Just hold on there. Before you think this spell is for me." Cordelia lifted her hand, holding her palm flat to him as she shook her head in negation.

The phone on the counter rang shrilly, interrupting her next words.

"Excuse me for a minute, please." Nikkos politely stated as he picked up the phone. "Magos Exousia. How may I help you?"

"Ah, hello my friend." Nikkos greeted the caller warmly, a small playing on his lips as he glanced back at Cordelia.  "Strangely enough, you were just on my mind. I have someone at my counter right now so can I put you on hold? The wait will be worth it, I assure you."

Nikkos listened to the caller's reply, then pressed a few buttons on the phone setting it back in its cradle.

Returning his attention to Cordelia, he asked, "So, Miss Chase, you were saying?"

"Let me say first, that I know that you know Angel and I'm sure you also know that he's a vampire but let me assure you completely, totally and unequivocally no doubt about it that this spell is not for him. Not for me. Not for us in any way. We're so blissfully happy it's not even funny. We're even going to have a baby." 

At the look of surprise on Nikkos's face, Cordelia giggled. "Well, not yet. We've got to work out all of the details and then go through the whole fertilization process. but I don't want to bore you with all of this."

"Yes, no need." Nikkos replied with something akin to horror on his features. He had no idea that the seer had been entertaining such outlandish fantasies, nor, did he suspect, did Angel.

"Let me just say that I can't remember ever being so much in love as I am now." She continued with a soft sigh, pausing for a moment as if reflecting on some fond memory. "Angel wants to get married before the baby, but he wants a big wedding. I was thinking something small and intimate, just us and a few friends and family. But no, he insists that I deserve only the best. He wants me to go to France and get my gown designed special for me and he's talking Harry Winston's for diamonds. A reception at the St. Regis, and the flowers. That man is such a romantic that he wants only pure white orchids, which will have to be imported of course. Oh. Sorry. I tend to get carried away."

Nikkos waited patiently, his curiosity admittedly piqued at just how far the seer would take her outlandish lies in her attempt to get what she wanted.

"The spell . It's for my friend. Her name is. is Buffy. Yes, it's Buffy! It's really a long and dull story so I don't want to bore you with the details, but let's just say she's in love with a vampire. He left her, she's heartbroken and I'd like to help her. I know her ex loves her too. he just needs . let's call it a push in the right direction. A reminder." 

"Interesting."  Nikkos murmured in disbelief. Did the seer know how close she had come to the truth? What sort of game was she playing? 

"Yes, I know it sounds farfetched," Cordelia hesitated, wondering for a brief second about the expression on the warlock's face as he regarded her so intently. Did he know about Buffy's sordid history with Angel?

"But that's our little Buffy. She's got such an independent streak."  She chirped, her voice coming out high-pitched and shrill with her increasing nervousness. "Oh, and please don't tell Angel that I'm doing this for her. He wouldn't like me interfering." 

"Why is that?"  Nikkos asked, a distinct edge to his voice.

"I really shouldn't tell you this, but well, he doesn't particularly care for Buffy or for Spike. And he really doesn't like me keeping in touch with her. Bad memories for him and all, with both of them."  Cordelia tossed her head slightly, shaking her dyed tresses as she pursed her lips. Impatiently she asked, "So? Will you help me-er, her?"

After several moments of what Cordelia perceive to be careful consideration, the warlock replied brusquely, "No."

"No?!" Her eyebrows shot up nearly to her hairline with her surprise, her mouth dropping open. She hadn't expected such a blunt, flat refusal.

"No." Nikkos repeated firmly.

"Just why the hell not? I come here to do a nice thing and you- you turn me down? Just what kind of super sorcerer warlock magic guy are you anyway?!" The seer sputtered angrily, her face turning red. She stomped her foot and rested her fisted hands on her hips in a show of outraged indignation.

"A damn good one, for one thing." He replied calmly, a lazy insouciance in his voice. "But Miss Chase, let's face a few facts. You aren't exactly being truthful with me here. Your tale about your friend. "

"What?!" Cordy shrieked disdainfully, her eyes bright with anger. "What do you mean, exactly truthful? Are you saying you don't believe me?"

"Exactly that. Yes, I know Angel and I also happen to know your *friend*, Buffy and I know that she doesn't need any love spell that you might wish to provide. But I do know what *you* need."

Nikkos glanced at the former brunette speculatively, patiently waiting for her response.

"Oh really?" Cordelia muttered sarcastically, curious despite her anger. "What do you think that I need?"

"Let me show you." Nikkos smiled, reaching in the counter for a clouded glass orb.

**

The bright red display caught her attention and Buffy stopped abruptly. A small smile playing on her lips, she examined the elegantly displayed red and white lingerie along with the accompanying hearts and flowers advertising Valentine's Day specials.

Idly Buffy contemplated the lacy red chemise, wondering what Angel's reaction would be if she were to wear something like that. Although she knew he liked red, she didn't quite know his taste in lingerie, what he might find sexy or attractive. They had never really had time to explore that side of their relationship. That is, until now.

Her smile widening to a grin, Buffy opened the door to Wicked Pleasures and entered the small boutique.

After only a moment of perusing the shop, she spotted the deep red lace of the desired item hanging just to the left of the counter and made her way across the store. Stepping in front of a nearby mirror and holding it out in front of her, she tried to imagine the look on Angel's face were he to see her in the sheer floral lace. Would he like the short length with the sexy slit up one thigh? Or would he prefer something more. traditional?  Was it too. risqué for his taste?  Would he find it . trashy? 

But the thought of wearing it for him generated thrilling, intoxicating tremors deep in the pit of her stomach. His dark eyes, lit with desire, watching her from the bed as she approached him with it on.

"That's a beautiful choice. Handmade Italian."

The voice over her shoulder broke into her thoughts and Buffy whirled around in surprise. "Oh, yes it is. It's beautiful."  Her cheeks pinked slightly in embarrassment, as if the woman might have been ascertain the direction of her thoughts.

"You'll be absolutely stunning in it as well. That particular shade of crimson red is perfect for your coloring." 

"Oh. Thanks." Buffy smiled and glanced down once at again at the seductive garment, still a little uncertain about Angel's reaction should she buy it and wear it for him.

"I'm Mona." The redhead greeted warmly, her blue eyes sparkling brightly as she extended her hand. 

"Buffy." Buffy returned the greeting, feeling suddenly and immediately at ease with the slender woman. As Buffy released her hand, she was filled with an incredible sense of déjà vu. She would have remembered the woman had she met her before, of that she was certain. But her eyes - they seemed so familiar.

"Would you like to try that on, sweetie?"  Mona studied the petite blonde, keenly taking in the faint blush, the hint of a smile and perhaps even more telling, the fading purplish bruise and the accompanying bite mark on her neck. Mona's smile widened to a grin.

"You don't think it's a little too." Buffy glanced back at her reflection in the mirror.

"If there's one thing I know about men, darling, it's that there is no such thing as *too* of anything. At least not with sexy wisps of lace designed to provoke their. imagination." Mona offered her a playful glance, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Your husband will absolutely love it and love you in it. Although I doubt he'll let you stay in it very long."

"Oh," Buffy smiled sheepishly, her color heightening at the thought of an impatient Angel stripping it from her in a passionate rush. "I'm not married."

"Really? And here I would have bet money that you were a new bride."  Mona chuckled, moving briskly around the store and selecting a few other items.

"No, not a bride. What makes you say that?"

"Sweetie, you're positively radiant. Glowing. And only new brides have that look." With a sweep of her arm, Mona gestured to the curtained dressing room at the back of the store. 

"Of course, great sex can also put that look on a girl's face."  The redhead winked as Buffy blushed, ducking into the small alcove.

"Ah, I thought so."  Mona smiled knowingly, hanging the items she selected on the hook before drawing the curtain closed.

Buffy selected the first item on the rack, a simple vintage-inspired empire waist gown in embroidered sheer tulle, long and flowing. The soft white fabric pooled around her feet as she twisted and turned in front of the mirror, taking in her reflection. She felt like a bride in the white gown. Well, maybe a bride on her wedding night, she revised, noting that you could easily see through the sheer fabric.  What would it be like to be a bride? She once had dreams of being Angel's bride, complete with the white gown and flowers-

"Try on the apple-green silk next, sweetie. I have a cashmere robe that matches that perfectly. Ooh. And some cinnamon apple candles. That color makes me think of fresh, juicy apple pie for some reason." Mona's voice came through the curtain interrupting her musing, "Now where did I put those."

Buffy obligingly tried on all of the items that she was handed, listening to Mona's running commentary about life, love and men and making the appropriate responses when necessary. There was no question that the titan haired shop owner's choice of lingerie was absolutely flawless; the selected sizes were a perfect fit, the colors and styles all impeccable and suited perfectly to Buffy's taste.

Before long, almost a dozen items of various designs had been tried on and a glass or two of chilled champagne had been consumed, Mona having opened the bottle to add to the afternoon's impromptu festivities.

When Buffy tried on the last item, a high-necked floral print flannel nightgown awash in lace and ruffles, she paraded out into the store and she and Mona both broke into a fit of giggles.

"I'm almost positive that Angel would prefer . well, anything else to this." Buffy laughed and twirled around as the skirt billowed out around her.

"No doubt." Mona smiled, taking a sip of her champagne. The flannel gown she had included with the other items as a joke, knowing that Buffy would get a good laugh out of it in contrast to the sexy lingerie that she had been trying on.

All-in-all, Mona was quite pleased to see that the soul mates had reunited, and she was delighted to hear - thanks to her gentle but insistent and nosy prodding - that he had insisted Buffy come to LA with him. Although, she thought with a lift of her eyebrow, with the garments that she had helped Buffy select and with her understanding of a vampire's libido, she doubted that anyone would see them out and about anytime soon. If Angel's sexual appetite was anything like what the three sisters had once suggested, then he would be keeping his lover and mate in his bedroom for quite a while in order to make up for lost time. Mona grinned like the Cheshire cat at the thought. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in their bedroom tonight.

 "These are all so beautiful. But I can't afford them." Buffy began apologetically as she set the three that she liked the best on the counter in order to choose one.  She had narrowed it down to the red lace, the white almost bridal like gown and a green chemise that complimented her eyes.  She was close to spending the last bit of her savings that she had allocated for clothes shopping, the rest having been spent earlier in the day at Bloomies and Nordstroms.

"Sweetie, you really should take all three." The red haired shop owner suggested firmly, sliding the lingerie across the counter and beginning to remove the tags. "And I can promise you, Angel will absolutely love them or you can bring them all back. The candles too."

"I don't know." The Slayer murmured contemplatively. She did have Angel's credit card that he had insisted that she take, but she was reluctant to spend his money. She loved the thought of dressing up in the sexy outfits for him though.

"How about this? If you wear any one of them for more than five minutes after your beau sees you in them, I'll give you double your money back."  Mona suggested sportively with a wink.

After a short hesitation, Buffy smiled and reached into her purse. If Angel didn't like them, she could return them and if he did. then maybe he wouldn't mind her spending his money on them.

Mona hummed softly and rang up Buffy's purchases, smiling when the diminutive blonde slid the "Angel Investigations" credit card across the counter. She was a silly romantic, she supposed, but she was infatuated with love and lovers and simply adored the idea that the two soul mates had finally found their way back to each other after all these years.

Lifting the purple and white bag off the counter, Buffy thanked Mona again for the lingerie recommendations, the company and the champagne.

"Oh, one second sweetie, I have something else here." Mona slipped through the curtains into the back room only to return with a large and heavy box, "This belongs to Angel, er, well Angelus. He bought these things a few years back but never returned to pick them up. Perhaps you wouldn't mind delivering them to him for me? I suppose I should have sent it to him before now, but the opportunity just didn't seem to come up."

Before Buffy could put together a sentence, her wits having flown at the redhead's casual mention of Angelus, a phone began ringing. Reaching under the counter for her purse, Mona dug frantically through the stylish bag until she found the tiny phone. Flipping it open, she answered the caller with a friendly hello.

"Oh, darling. How *are* you?"  Mona smiled at Buffy and waved before turning and slipping through the curtains into the back of the store, continuing her conversation.

How did Mona know about Angelus? How *well* did she know him? A green streak of envy raced through Buffy at the thought that Angelus might have been attentive to the beautiful and sultry redhead.

Chewing her bottom lip, Buffy waited, wanting to ask the questions that were ricocheting through her mind. Mona's conversation continued unabated on the other side of the curtain.

After a few more seconds of consideration, Buffy sighed with resignation and picked up the heavy box. Maybe she'd just have to ask Angelus.

"Damn you to hell!" Cordelia cried, flinging the dark orb at Nikkos as she turned and bolted for the door as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.

Nikkos caught the flying object easily, chuckling at the look of fear and horror on the dyed blonde's face as she raced for the exit.

The chuckle turned to a hearty burst of laughter as the door slammed hard, shaking on its hinges and rattling the chime loudly. The glass shuddered and threatened to break under the force, even though it was magically reinforced to withstand a variety of attacks, both natural and supernatural.

Nikkos picked up the phone and returned to the caller who had been put on 'hold'. If Cordelia had looked carefully she would have noticed that it had actually been on speakerphone.  Still smiling, he chuckled into the phone. "So, Angel? You catch any of that?"

Buffy muttered a few choice curses under her breath as she hauled the heavy box the short way down the street and to the car. What the hell had Angelus bought at Wicked Pleasures? What had he been doing in a lingerie shop anyway?  Something Angel had said about Angelus and his plans to 'get her back' stirred vaguely in her mind and she wondered for the briefest second if there was some connection before she shrugged it away.

Lifting the heavy box, she set it in the trunk next to the broadsword and axe that Angel had left in there and then closed the lid with a slam. Opening that up later should prove most interesting.

Placing her bag of lingerie in the back seat next to her other purchases, Buffy re-locked the car and once more made her way down the street to her original destination, Magos Exousia.

The honking of horns drew her attention and she glanced up to see a bright yellow jeep roar away from the curb just two blocks down, the tires squealing as the driver cut off the oncoming traffic in an apparent haste to leave.

Buffy shook her head. LA drivers.

Nikkos smiled in recognition as the door opened and Buffy stepped through.

Cupping his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, he called out in friendly welcome. "Buffy! Buffy Summers! What brings you to Los Angeles?"

"Pleasure, actually. I'm on a bit of a vacation." Buffy returned his smile as she approached, hugging him as he stepped around the counter to meet her.

"And a long overdue vacation that would be, no doubt. Here, let me look at you." Holding out one hand, he twirled her around. Against his shoulder, he thought he could hear the faint sound of Angel growling through the phone.

Nikkos's perceptive blue eyes missed nothing as they took in the sunny smile on her face, the sparkle in her mossy green eyes and, despite the collar of her jacket, the recent bite mark and fading purple bruise surrounding it. He suppressed a frown; Angel had obviously been impatient to reclaim his mate. A little too impatient, perhaps. In their phone conversation thus far, Angel had not admitted that things had already progressed to this point with Buffy.  Nikkos sighed resignedly; he hoped that the vampire had at least given serious consideration to his warning before he had acted.

"You look radiant, darling. Absolutely, positively glowing. Want to tell me what - or who - has put that sparkle in your eyes and the blush on your cheeks?"  He teased, his smile widening to a grin at the color heightening on Buffy's pink cheeks. His concern was lessening somewhat at the obvious signs of her happiness.

"It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with a certain tall, dark and brooding vampire that resides in Los Angeles now, would it?"  He knew Angel could hear him, but it amused him to tease the vampire about his mate in any way he could. 

Looking up into Nikkos's kindly blue eyes, Buffy took a deep breath before she answered simply, "Yes."  She wasn't surprised that he knew; even if he hadn't simply guessed knowing her amorous history as he did, the world in which they moved was small and certainly news about Slayers and certain vamps traveled fast.

"I need to talk to you." Buffy said quietly, glancing around the shop to ensure that no one was within range of hearing her words. "About the spell."

Nikkos studied her carefully, a concerned expression on his face. "You want to know why it broke."

"Yes." The blonde Slayer replied nodding her head almost imperceptibly.

"Okay then my dear. We'll talk. I'll make us some tea and it'll be just like old times." Nikkos gestured toward the rooms in the back, "Let me just finish this call, chase out the few lingering window shoppers and I'll be right along. Want to put some water on?"

Buffy nodded and made her way back to the warlock's small apartment.  As she put the small kettle on the stove, she was reminded that her life had changed once before in this small room. Would it change again?

Her arms loaded with packages, Buffy unsteadily turned the knob on the door and pushed it open with her knee. She carried the grocery bags into the kitchen and sat them on the table, then returned to the car three more times to retrieve her other purchases of the day and Angelus's box.

As she closed the door behind her, she couldn't help but notice how sparkling clean the house was now. There was no sign of any dust or cobwebs whatsoever. The hardwood floors gleamed richly, the stained glass window sparkled brightly leaving an impressive jewel pattern on the floor. Even the sage green couch appeared to have been thoroughly swept free of any lingering dust.

She smiled. Angel must have worked hard today. Upstairs, she could hear the sound of the shower running.  Returning to the kitchen, she unpacked the groceries that she had bought on her last stop before returning to the house. 

The blood from the butcher when straight to the fridge, alongside the various grocery items that he'd put on the list for her that morning.  She made a face at the eggplant and put it in the fridge next to the other vegetables. She had no idea how to pick one of those out, even less of an idea what Angel intended to do with it and she wasn't at all certain that it was something she wanted to eat. The cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip ice cream that went into the freezer hadn't been on the list. It had been an impulse buy from a distant fuzzy memory from her stay in heaven. Maybe she could even convince him to let her eat it off his chest again and she could experience it for herself first hand.

Tucking Angelus's box in the closet and picking up the packages that she had left at the bottom of the stairs, she carried them up to their room. Their room. Buffy said the words in her mind, rolling them around and delighting in the sound. Their. Room. She smiled, enjoying those two small words more than she had ever thought possible. With Nikkos's information about the spell and his reassurances about her life and about Angel's affections she was even more optimistic that they would somehow manage to muddle through and make this thing called a relationship work.

Putting away the last of her purchases before Angel would see them, wanting to save them for just the right moment, Buffy turned in the direction of the bathroom door. The shower had stopped just seconds earlier.

With an impish smile on her face, she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside.  She knew that he could sense her presence just as she could feel him. Those feelings, those pangs of familiarity, of connection between them had returned with a vengeance now that the spell was broken. Of course, she thought with a slight pout, with his other vamp senses he probably even heard her moving around downstairs or picked up on her scent as soon as she entered the house.

Angel stood with his back to her, wrapping his hips in a black towel after drying off briskly.  Her eyes were drawn to the dark ink of the Gryphon tattoo on his back and she felt an overwhelming desire to lick away the small droplets of water that clung to it and to his shoulder blades.

Closing the door behind her quietly, she leaned against it for a moment and absorbed the sight of him: powerful and potent and overwhelming. Intoxicating tremors of desire swept through her much like the champagne she consumed earlier with Mona, spinning her head and heating her blood.

Sensing her presence behind him, Angel turned to face her. "Hey." Pleasure at seeing her inundated his senses without the slightest delay, but a second later a voice in his head reminded him to be less desperately happy and more wary. Why had she gone to see Nikkos?

"Hey yourself." Buffy walked up and peeked around the glass block wall of the shower that separated the enclosure from the rest of the room. The bathroom had been remodeled in the last few years, a tall shower in deep blue mosaic tile surrounded by thick glass block on one end, a large Jacuzzi tub with room for two in an alcove on the other.

"Someone was busy today."  Buffy murmured playfully, turning back to face her lover as he watched her intently.

His gaze was shuttered, uncertain of her mood or the result of her conversation with Nikkos. The warlock had adamantly assured him that he would not use any magic on her or for her, but Angel hadn't been so sure that the blue-eyed sorcerer would have been able to withstand any of Buffy's pleas had that been what she really wanted.

"Yes." Angel replied noncommittally, his concentration on his tenuous self-control. He wanted to grab her and shake her, he wanted to kiss her senseless and he wanted to demand that she tell him why she had gone to see Nikkos. Had he done something - or not done something - to assure her that he was serious about their relationship this time?  Was there something more that he should have said or done to convince her that he was wildly in love with her and would never leave her again?  Was the thought of being in love with him such a frightening thing to her that she would rather be without it?

"Squeaky clean." She smiled, interrupting his thoughts and running her fingertips along the now clean counter before stepping directly in front of him. Her eyes, shining brilliant green and happy, met his.

He studied her carefully. There were no changes with her or her attitude that he could detect. His fear dropped a notch yet he still watched her carefully.

Buffy wondered about the apprehensive expression on his face as she traced the arch of his brow with her fingertip. She had a sudden urge to clasp his head to her breast, to soothe away his worries and fears, whatever they may be.  Her eyes dropped to his lips and then lower to his bare chest and she shivered slightly, the idea of comforting him replaced with a stronger and more carnal emotion.

Her eyes flitted up to his briefly again. Maybe she could find a way to distract him from his worries, at least for a little while. With a slow teasing smile, she leaned forward and licked a drop of water from his chest, just above his pebbled nipple. "Mmm. Clean Angel."

He almost jumped at the next swipe of her tongue, directly on his nipple. She laved it gently, rolling her tongue around it with teasing slowness before whispering softly against his skin, "Definitely squeaky clean here."

His skin was slightly warm from the hot shower, yet her touch felt infinitely warmer. He stood completely still, mesmerized by the feel of her soft tongue against his skin and the warm, affectionate look in her eye.

"What about." With an almost hungry look, Buffy's gaze roved over his chest. Her palms came up to rest on his waist as her eyes shot up to him in a quick seductive glance. Leaning forward again, she licked a slow path across his chest stopping when she reached his other tan nipple and treating it to the same delicious pleasure. "Here?"

"Mmmm." Her head moved lower, tracing his ribs then his abdomen. "Or, here?"

Angel closed his eyes as the tension seemed to drain from his body with each small lave of her tongue on his flesh. Her voice seemed to drift around him, caressing him with loving whispers as she slowly moved, exploring every inch of his torso. Instant need raced along his every nerve at her touch.

Slipping behind him, she licked the water droplets from his back with languid patience then she traced his tattoo with her fingers then her lips then again with her tongue.  Her hands slid around his waist, caressing his stomach as she pressed her warm cheek to the cool skin of his back. Desire was coiling in the pit of her stomach, flame-hot and spreading with every beat of her heart.

Gently unclasping her hands from his waist, Angel turned to face her. 

"Welcome home." He murmured softly as he drew her into his arms, bending his head slightly to brush a gentle kiss across her lips.

Prolonging the kiss by pressing her lips firmly against his, she lifted her arms to his shoulders and rose up to her toes, sliding the quivering fullness of her breasts against his bare chest and delighting in the abrasive pleasure as she rubbed the taut peaks against him. Despite the layers of her clothing between them, she could feel him against her acutely. Her nipples tingled and firmed even more as the pleasurable ache intensified.

Her lips parted beneath his with a slow melting sigh and she wiggled slightly in an attempt to get even closer to him. The clean scent that was pure Angel washed over her as he filled her senses, overwhelming her mind and body with his physical presence. Buffy sighed softly into his mouth at the familiar touch of his hands on her back, the cool heavy weight stroking gently and holding her to him.

With a soft groan, Angel changed the slant of his head and slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting, licking, and twining with hers in a sensuous pattern of penetration and withdrawal. One hand slid under her sweater to caress the warm smooth skin along her spine as he forced her head back with the intensity of his kiss. His other hand tangled in her hair as he reached up to hold her securely under the pressure of his lips.

While his mouth ate at hers, tasting the sweet mint and tangy champagne flavor of her, he gently accommodated her body to his, easing her up to fit more snugly against his unmistakable erection. He wondered briefly where she had been that she had had champagne, but the thought drifted away as she lifted her leg, rubbing his calf with hers in a sinuous caress.

"I missed you," Angel whispered quietly, lifting his head a fraction to allow Buffy to catch her breath.

"I can tell." Buffy replied, her smile playful. Her hips undulated against him in a slow inducement of promised pleasure. Even bare foot, he towered over her, lean, powerful and fit. He was so beautiful, she thought as she looked up into his dark eyes, eyes that were touched with a predatory wildness that thrilled her beyond measure.

"Do you want your surprise?"

"Yes." His hand on her back slipped down to her the swell of her behind, cupping the firm flesh in his large hand and arching her back even further. He nuzzled her ear as he squeezed the cheek of her bottom drawing her into him tightly. Buffy let out a soft gasp of pleasure, her lashes dropping marginally as his arousal surged against her. 

"Now or later?" She murmured, brushing his throat with soft nipping kisses, her fingers playing in the soft short hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Depends." Angel whispered as he straightened and released her, reaching for the buttons on her sweater in one smooth move.  When he slid the soft cotton down her arms he bent and kissed the healing bite on the smooth curve of her neck.  A rush of throbbing passion swept through her at the touch of his lips on the bite mark and she trembled, clutching at his hair and closing her eyes.

He lifted his head and looked down at her face, feeling a perverse thrill that his bite seemed to be an erotic pleasure point for her. He gently untangled her arms from his neck as he pushed her sweater off.

"On?" Buffy opened her eyes and smiled as she let the sweater drop to the floor behind her before returning her arms to their earlier position around his neck. Reaching up, she ran her hands through the damp spiky locks of his dark hair.  She loved the soft, thick unruly mass.

"What it is." He returned her smile, gratified to have his golden goddess home, with him. Bending slightly he swept her back into his arms and buried his face in her neck, content to hold her for a moment, relishing her nearness, the feel of her tiny body pressed tightly to his.

Nikkos's words to her - that true love should not be denied, that it was rare and precious and should be reveled in with one's entire spirit and heart and soul - suddenly echoed in her mind. How many years would she be able have the simple pleasure of being held in his arms? Slayers didn't live long lives and they'd already wasted so much time.

"Angel."

Lifting his head, he looked down at Buffy in the bright light of the bathroom. Their faces were very close, his forehead nearly touching hers. Buffy's green eyes staring up at him were wide and deep green and almost frightened.

"I-I love you." She murmured softly, her voice thick with emotion. "I really love you. More than I ever thought possible."

It was the first time in more years than he cared to remember that he had heard those words from her and his own emotions surged with a ferocious intensity. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to shout with triumphant joy all at once. The fear that he had been unknowingly holding on to dissolved in a rapid exhalation of breath. He had underestimated how important those little words were to him, how much he had been waiting to hear them from her again. How much it mattered.

His hand came up and lightly brushed her cheek, the Claddagh ring he wore glinting in the light. "I love you too, sweet, with all my heart."

"Don't ever leave me," She breathed on a soft exhalation, burying her face in the curve of his neck, "please."  She hated the almost desperate plea in her voice, yet was powerless to prevent it. No one had ever affected her as deeply as he did. No one had touched her heart the way he had from the first moment she had seen him. No one could hurt her as much as he could.

"Never, love." Angel lifted her head gently and tenderly touched her lips with his. The desperate plea in her voice nearly brought tears to his eyes, forcing him to swallow hard to hold them back. "I'll always be with you, Buffy, I promise. Now until forever."

"Promise?"  Buffy demanded as the tremor of fear that flared began to subside. She could set aside what had happened between them in the past, but the pain would not easily be forgotten even after all these years.

"I promise," He murmured, his lips brushing hers, "and if I ever give you any reason to think otherwise." He kissed her then, a slow heated kiss that curled her toes and chased away all but the most stubborn lingering doubt in her mind about his feelings. Planting a last soft kiss on her lips, he finished with a small smile, "You can take a stake to me."

Buffy studied his face for a moment as if searching for the truth. With a small smile, she stretched up on her toes and slid her tongue along the upper curve of lip, whispering teasingly, "Deal."

Returning her smile, he kissed her. It was a sweet, tender kiss, a reaffirmation of love.

"But for tonight," She murmured softly, pushing away from him and stepping back. Reaching behind her, she unhooked her lavender lace bra and dropped it to the floor. Her skirt followed along with her dainty lace panties and shoes. "I have a much better idea."

Reaching out, she tugged the towel lose from his hips and dropped it to the floor next to her clothing.

"I want to touch you." Buffy whispered in a soft breathy voice, her eyes drinking in his lithe, muscled body and rampant erection with undisguised eagerness. Her small pink tongue darted out and licked her lips. Her voice was husky purr, "To taste you."

Standing completely still, Angel quietly waited as Buffy dropped to her knees in front of him. When her lips touched him, her tongue licking across the swollen crest of his erection, his eyes closed and his hands slid into her hair. Her hands stroked his thighs, her hair gently caressing his lower body as she moved her head up and down in a slow deliberate rhythm. Taking her time and concentrating on his pleasure, she licked and nibbled, at turns sucking him deep into her mouth and throat before releasing him to run her tongue across the sensitive tip.  Opening his eyes he looked down at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  He watched every plunging movement as she took him deep into her mouth, moving with lingering slowness until finally the exquisite sensations broke his tenuous control and he released his cool seed into her mouth.

His eyes were heavy-lidded when he looked down at her a long minute later. "Was that my surprise?" he asked in a soft murmur, a contented smile playing on his lips.

Licking her lips like a cat enjoying a taste of cream, Buffy's heavy-lashed eyes opened and her gaze lifted to his face from her position on the floor at his feet. "Part of it..." She breathed softly, still wanting him with an insistent pulse of desire that hummed through her senses and went directly to her wet, heated core. 

Bending, he lifted her with one arm and turned, swinging them around and placing her on the edge of the counter. Nudging her legs, he parted them and stepped forward sliding his palms up her thighs.

"But now you want something?" He whispered huskily, bending his head to kiss the curve of her neck. Already he was hard again, hard and aching with want as if he had not just climaxed moments ago.

Buffy's breathing quickened at the touch of his fingers near the damp apex of her thighs and her legs parted wider, inviting him in. His fingers swept over her wet cleft with deft expertise and pleasure flooded her mind in blissful waves. One long finger slipped inside her and she crooned softly, arching against him and wanting more. With his hands on her body all thoughts fled from her mind. She could no longer think, she could only feel. His lean fingers moved inside her, stroking deeply with the controlled expertise and dexterity of an artist, pushing her ever closer to the edge of ecstasy. 

"I love you," She sighed softly, reaching up to pull his head down to hers. Her voice was ripe with passion as her lips met his, informing him with a heated demand, "and I need you. Now." When her tongue invaded his mouth, softly demanding, his arm encircled her, pulling her roughly into the hard strength of his body.

He felt her breath hitch in his mouth as he entered her in one swift thrust before closing his eyes against the lust consuming his brain. He forced away the ramming mentality screaming through his mind, along with his demons lewd comments.

"Angel." Buffy mewled softly, arching her back to sink down on him further as her arms tugged at him, wanting him closer, deeper, harder. Heat spiraled upward through her body, along with unbridled longing. "Please."

"Slow, baby," Angel murmured, withdrawing gently and rocking forward again to glide inside her with exquisite slowness.

"Angelll. now."

Her next breath was an explosive sigh as her vampire lover capitulated, giving in to her demands and burying himself in the hot, silky, sweetness of her body with increasingly hard and rapid strokes. He flexed his hips and thighs, thrusting with barely controlled strength as her tight channel clenched around him. He kissed her then and she kissed him back wildly, lost to everything but the sensations pounding through her veins in a primitive, driving rhythm keeping time with his thrusts.

"I love you." She breathed against his ear just as her first explosive climax washed over her. She clung to him, melted around him and he reached between them to find the swollen nub of her clitoris, working her with gentle expertise to keep her on the edge of ecstasy before reigniting the fires of her passion as she undulated her hips against him.

He matched her tempo as she wrapped her strong legs around his hips and braced her hands on his shoulders and rode him hard with a fevered eagerness that would not be denied. She was erotic, wild and unrestrained. With her arms laced around his neck, she arched into him as reality melted away into oblivion, as pleasure inundated her every sense and nerve, until at long last she shuddered around him with a high keening cry that echoed throughout the room. Unable to hold off any longer, Angel poured into her with his own soul-stirring, tumultuous climax.

When he carried her to their bed a long while later, he made love to her again as if it were for the first time: with infinite patience, exquisite tenderness and unending love. Their kisses were sweet and slow and languid, each one powerfully etched in their hearts and minds.

Between kisses, he told her in soft whispers of her beauty, of his love for her and his visions for their future. When he finished his litany, his expression was tender and solemn and Buffy had tears in her eyes from the intensity of her emotion. She kissed him then with a desperate hunger before telling him of her love for him with whispered words against his lips.  Unlike the earlier storm of their passion, their lovemaking this time was slow and sweet and gentle.

After, when the delicious pleasure had hushed to a sated calm, Angel lay next to her on their bed with an overwhelming contentment running through his languorous senses and a low purr rumbling in his chest. He wondered briefly how he could experience such perfect happiness, such flawless, complete and boundless love and still have his soul intact much less not burst into a thousand small bits of ash.

Just before her eyes drifted shut in dreamy abandonment, Buffy had a lurching moment of jealousy, watching him lie next to her, his eyes closed in contentment. He was too perfect and too sinfully beautiful and she thought with envy of the many times Cordelia must have seen him like this .  But then, he had never loved Cordelia, never really loved her for more than a friend or a sister perhaps, he had even said so. In the peaceful bower of their bed, the unexpected surge of envy slowly began to dissipate.

"Love you." She murmured softly, drowsing against his shoulder. She somehow knew, with sudden unquestionable certainty, that it had never been like this between Angel and Cordy. Never. Nikkos was right. What she and Angel shared was rare and precious.

"I love you, Buffy."

After a few minutes of silence, Angel whispered against her hair, "I'll give you everything." She deserved the treasures of the world for the love that she had brought into his life, for the joy that simply being with her gave him. "Anything your heart desires, love, it's yours."

Buffy's lashes fluttered against his skin as her eyes opened with his soft words. Her luminescent green eyes met his deep golden brown ones.

"I only want you." She murmured softly, closing her eyes again and snuggling closer and twining around him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her arm across his chest and her leg over his thigh.

"You have me, love," He replied, his eyes closing as he pulled the thick comforter from the floor and settled it over them, "always."

She smiled in her sleep, content.

It was just after eleven p.m. and Buffy nibbled on the remains of the grilled chicken breast and steamed vegetables that Angel had cooked for her while she waited for him to dress and join her downstairs. She had teased him endlessly about cooking while wearing only a pair of black silk charmeuse pajama bottoms, to which Angel good-naturedly teased her back about the appropriateness of high-heeled sandals for slaying.

She looked up when she sensed him standing in the doorway and her mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Uh, these were in some of the things that I- that Angelus left here. Other than the pants I've been wearing for three days that can almost stand on their own and the pajamas that you saw earlier, this is all I've got."  Angel stated uncomfortably as she continued to stare, her mouth agape.  Meanwhile, Angelus began to chortle with glee. Told you so! Told you so! Told you she loved them!

"I'm going to have to make a trip to the hotel to pick up some things."

"Uh, you look." Buffy stammered, her eyes drinking in the sight of her lover. He was dressed in all black, from the silk shirt he wore to the leather pants. A black leather belt circled his waist, clasped with a silver buckle embossed with a Celtic design. She cleared her throat, forcing out the rest of her sentence, "uh, great."  Which, to Buffy's mind, was the understatement of the century. He looked somewhere just on the other side of magnificent. God, if only she could get him to wear those more often. A familiar bolt of lust shot through her and she clenched her thighs together. Despite the many times they had made love this afternoon and despite the touch of lingering soreness between her legs, she wanted him. Now.

As the delicate scent of her arousal tickled his nostrils, Angelus once more howled with lust and laughter. Angel glanced at her speculatively, a slow smile crossing his features.  Okay, so you were right this time. He mentally acknowledged his demon and stepped forward as Buffy stood. It's too bad you don't get to reap any of the benefits. You can watch though. Angel finished with a mental smirk, ignoring Angelus's angry and expletive laden response.

With shaky fingers Buffy placed her dishes in the sink. So he's wearing leather pants. So what? They're just pants. Just . leather. pants. Okay, so he looks great in them. Great? What I am saying? Great. He looks absolutely totally fuckable in them. Steady, Buffy. Patrol first, then.

Angel's arms slipped around her waist from behind and he dropped a kiss on her shoulder effectively interrupting her thoughts. "You look great yourself."

Without thinking, Buffy rocked back on her heels and ground her bottom into his groin. Splaying one hand on her stomach, Angel held her against him. Thought you were going on patrol, Angelus snidely commented. Whatever. Angel mentally replied, considering revising his plans with Buffy pressed so tightly against him.

Knowing that Angel had to be stir crazy from being in the house all day and not wanting him to think she was some sort of lust-crazed nympho, Buffy took a deep breath to calm her racing senses and then turned around in his arms.

"So." She cleared her throat and looked down at her outfit, searching for a distraction. Holding out her arms she questioned flirtatiously, "You like?"

Angel's looked her up and down, his heated gaze roving over her and taking in the form-fitting, pale purple top, the short black mini-skirt and the black high-heeled boots. 

"Isn't that skirt a little short? For patrolling?" He frowned slightly, his eyes riveted to the sight of her exposed tanned thighs. "It's still cold out, even if it is LA."

"It's the style. And besides, you've seen me in less." Buffy smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist again. She couldn't seem to stop touching him. The table was close. Maybe she could just lean over it and he could.

Angel grunted softly. Just because *he* had didn't mean he wanted anyone else to see, well, any part of her.

"Besides, honey, I thought you'd like it." She pouted slightly at his continued frown, forcing her thoughts away from the lascivious activities she had almost begun to envision that they could pursue on the table. "I bought it today just for you."

"I love it, sweetheart. I just." he grumbled, suddenly feeling very old fashioned and prudish at the moment. Of course he loved it, just as he had always loved seeing her patrol in those short skirts that she always used to wear.  The table was close. he could just lift her up on it and flip that little bit of nothing up to her waist.

Okay. Patrol. With effort, he forced himself to drop his arms and take a step backward while running the reminder through his mind that they were going out on patrol. A quick, short patrol, he thought, his eyes once more drifting to her bare legs. He turned on his heel and walked to the closet to get their coats. If he didn't take her out patrolling with him as he had promised before they left Sunnydale, she might think he wasn't intending to keep his word. No matter how much he wanted to take her back to bed... or the table... he had to see this through.

Buffy's eyes lingered on the snug fit of the leather on his ass and thighs as he crossed the room. She sighed softly. Maybe she could talk him into a quick, short patrol. Maybe just the surrounding neighborhood.

"You just what?" She teased, reaching out to take her coat from his hand when he walked back toward her.

"I just don't want you to catch cold." Angel mumbled, knowing the excuse was feeble but it was the best he could come up with without sounding priggish.

"If I get cold, then you can keep me warm. You have your big long coat on." Buffy slipped on her leather jacket, pulling her hair from the collar and tossing it over her shoulder as she reached for her bag.

Angel eyed her briefly before following her to the door. That comment did not help cool his ardor at all. A quick patrol just down to the nearby cemetery and back. It'd take an hour, max. Then they could be back here and .

Buffy cast an impatient look at him over her shoulder before stepping out the door.

Sighing heavily, he flipped off the light switch and followed her out into the dark night.

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Buffy punched the vamp she was fighting, sending him flying backward into the crumbling tombstone behind them. He hadn't realized how much he missed this: watching her, fighting alongside her. He grimaced slightly at the brief view of her lacy panties that was revealed when she whirled into a graceful roundhouse kick and slammed the fledgling into the tombstone again before pulling out her stake and driving it straight into the vampire's chest.

With a smug smile, Buffy dusted her hands off and walked over to where her lover stood waiting for her by the tall crypt.  "That's two for me."

"I missed this." He smiled at her, holding out his hand. She returned his smile and took his hand as they walked toward the entrance of the small cemetery.

"Missed what?" Buffy questioned, peering into the dark intently as was her usual habit when out hunting for creatures of the night.

"Patrolling with you, watching you fight," Angel replied, squeezing her hand as they rounded the corner. "Getting a glimpse of your little lacy underpants."

"Just a glimpse?" She asked, her voice light and teasing.

With a sudden preternaturally fast movement, he swept her into his arms. His voice was husky against her ear, "Or maybe a feel."

He backed her into the marble wall of the crypt behind her, his lips finding hers in a demanding, heated kiss as memories of nights spent together in the distant past crept into both of their minds. Nights spent kissing, exploring each other with greedy mouths and impatient hands. Nights when he taught her about passion, learning her body and teaching her to respond to him. He had shown her pleasures beyond her imagination, yet despite the breath-taking, earth-shattering orgasms he had orchestrated in her, when he left her each night at her house with a chaste kiss she had still shivered with longing, wanting something more of him. It wasn't until her seventeenth birthday that she found out exactly what it was that she had been wanting from him.

A branch cracked in the dark somewhere off in the distance and Angel reluctantly broke off their kiss and raised his head. Looking in the direction of the sound, the tall vampire cocked his head as if searching for a scent on the breeze.

Buffy felt a low rumbling growl from Angel's chest, and she glanced up at his face, running her hand soothingly along his arm as she peered over his shoulder.

"What is it?" Buffy whispered, unable to ascertain the source of the tingling she was now beginning to feel. It was another vamp most likely, but that didn't explain Angel's peculiar behavior.

"Connor." Angel murmured in reply, dropping his arms from Buffy just as a dark flash seemed to disappear over the far wall.  Without a word between then in regards to a plan or strategy, Angel bolted after his son and Buffy made a hard right for the cemetery entrance.

Reaching the exterior wall, Buffy darted through the gate and leaned casually against the wall. She heard fast running footsteps around the corner to her left, but she stayed in position, calmly examining her fingernails. Her casual demeanor belied her readiness to stop whoever or whatever it was that was racing toward her.

Connor had never expected to find his father in the old cemetery, much less with Buffy and the two of them making out like a couple of teenagers. Buffy's blonde hair stood out like a beacon in the dark night, which was how he had easily spotted them immediately after climbing over the wall. In an angry panic, he fled, uncertain if either of them had spotted him.

Originally he had come looking for the vampire out of concern. He knew that his father tended to take himself off alone and brood when things were wrong; certainly, things with Cordelia would fall into that category now. He also wanted to know what was going on. Had Angel found Cordelia?  Or now that he was back with Buffy, did he no longer care?

He had known that his father wasn't staying at the Hyperion since he'd been there several times, and he wasn't staying with the rest of the AI team at the Four Seasons - which led Connor to suspect that perhaps the address for the house in Santa Monica that he had found in father's things might be where he could find him. He'd been on his way there when he heard noises in the cemetery and so had slipped over the fence to investigate. which is when he had spotted them.

Connor glanced behind him over his shoulder. Seeing nothing, he slowed to a jog and turned the corner, only to stop short as he came face to face with Buffy. She now stood in the center of the sidewalk, having pushed away from the wall when he rounded the corner.

"What are you doing here?" Connor spat jealously. Would his father always have someone in his life that was more important than he was?

"She's on vacation."

Connor whirled around as his father dropped silently from the fence to the sidewalk behind him. 

"But I think the question is what are *you* doing *here*?" Angel asked calmly, adjusting his coat collar as he walked toward them.

"I was looking for you." The young man replied petulantly, glancing at Buffy then back at Angel. His father looked more like Angelus than the man he remembered seeing last. Had he lost his soul? Connor's eyes shifted back to Buffy suspiciously.

"Does Gunn know that you're here?" The tall vampire asked quietly, even though he suspected he already knew the answer.

"No." Connor grumbled, looking down at the ground.

"I didn't think so." Angel sighed, glancing at Buffy briefly before his gaze returned to his son's face. "You forget how the phone works? Or is there another reason why you didn't just call?"

"Whatever." Connor spat angrily, casting a dirty look at Buffy before he stalked off. "Like you care anyway."

"Connor, damn it-" Angel called out after his son, his exasperation obvious by the tone of his voice.

"Angel." Buffy said quietly, touching the tall vampire on the arm. She knew how important his son was to him, how much he wanted to repair their relationship.  She was even willing to give up their idyllic paradise that consisted of just the two of them if it would help. "Go after him. Talk to him. If you want, bring him back to stay with us."

"Thank you." Angel cupped her cheek in his hand. "I love you."

Buffy smiled and held his hand to her face for a brief moment. "I love you. Now go. I'll meet you back at the house."

"Be careful." His eyes narrowed as he spotted Connor's retreating back in the distance. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Alone. It's best that Connor stay at the hotel with the others right now."

He leaned down and kissed her, hesitating. He didn't want to leave her alone period, much less on the darkened street.

"Go." Buffy ordered, looking at him sternly and pointing in the direction that Connor had gone. "The sooner you go, the sooner you'll be back." Her eyes swept over him again, memorizing his image in the leather pants. The last thing she wanted was to let him out of her sight tonight, but she knew that he needed to do this. She sighed softly.

Angel pulled her into his arms for one more kiss, this one teasing, sweet and tender.

"Wait up for me?" He couldn't keep the touch of eagerness out of his voice.

"Only if you promise to bring me." Buffy's voice dropped an octave and she ran her hand teasingly over his crotch. Her smile was mischievous, ". a big surprise."

Buffy lounged in the oversized tub, enjoying the relaxing heat of the water and daydreaming of the future with Angel. Already she missed him, his absence from her rare in these last few days.

Dipping down lower into the liquid warmth of tub, she wondered how long he would stay with Connor. Already she wished that he were home beside her. Or rather, home and inside her, she thought with a dreamy smile. Her nerves, her body, all of her senses seemed to be on constant carnal alert and she wondered briefly if such a single-minded focus on passion was normal.

Pulling the stopper on the tub with her toe, Buffy rose and stretched languidly, wrapping herself in the thick cotton towel. After drying off, she slathered her body head to toe with the silky vanilla scented lotion and pulled on Angel's robe that he had left hanging on the back of the door. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the lingering trace of his scent. It was a cheap substitute for having his arms around her but it would have to do for now.

Glancing at the clock in the bedroom, she saw that it was almost two am. She stirred restlessly.  Angel should be back soon.

She picked up her book and tried to read, but the words were just ink dots on the page. After five minutes of fidgeting she sighed and dropped the book on the nightstand. She wanted Angel.

Suddenly she smiled, recalling the box that belonged to Angelus that was tucked in the closet downstairs. Now there was something to pass the time while she waited for his return. Inspired, she lugged the heavy box up the stairs and sat it on the floor next to the bed.  She carefully peeled back the tape sealing it shut, her eyes widening when she finally pulled back the flap on the box and glanced inside.

The light in the bedroom was still on when Angel returned to the house almost half an hour later. He smiled, pleased that Buffy had waited up for him.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Angel came to an abrupt stop just inside the doorway to the bedroom. His eyes widened and he sucked in an unneeded breath at the resplendent spectacle of his mate's beauty as she sat in the center of their bed. His gaze swept over her slowly and his lips curved into a smile, his eyes darkening with appreciation and lust.

"Welcome home." Buffy shifted her attention away from the object in her hand and looked up at him with a smile. Wearing a black strapless corset, she sat with her stocking clad legs tucked under her, facing the center of the bed. Her hair was pinned up messily with several jeweled dragonfly clips, the pale green stones decorating the dainty insects' wings glittering in the light. A thin black velvet choker circled her neck.

"Hello, love," Angel murmured softly, his gait predatory as he advanced slowly into the room. "Had I known what you were planning, I would have been back earlier." That is, if I could even have left.

He was unable to tear his eyes away from her.  He was almost certain he was going to combust and it took several long moments and several unneeded breaths before he noticed anything other than his beautiful and seductively clad mate.  It took him another minute before he was able to focus on exactly what she held in her hand and identify it as a vibrator. A bright red vibrator. His jaw dropped.

Hey! That's my stuff! Angelus declared with a surprised bark.

At his demon's loud proclamation of ownership, Angel glanced at the items on the bed with no small amount of trepidation. A coil of gold chains dominated one pile, nearly covering jars of what he assumed to be oils or lubricants although one distinctly said "liquid latex" in big bold letters. On top of the chains, Buffy had placed the red vibrator that she had been holding in her hand alongside another silver, bullet shaped vibrator and a jade cock ring.  Next to that stack of objects, was another similar pile, this one consisting of a string of beads, two sets of nipple clamps and a braided bullwhip. The last group of items was smaller: a ball gag, a metal bar with cuffs at one end and a collar on the other and a particularly vicious looking set of clover clamps.

"Buffy..." Angel stammered slightly, uncertain what to say. He had no idea where she had found the box. He had no real memory of bringing it to the house although he did remember Angelus ordering the things from a shop down on Montana, but that had been years ago. The box hadn't been in the house today though - he was certain of that. He, or the perhaps the house cleaners that he had hired, would have found it.

"So. this shop I went into today. they had a package of yours. Well, your demon's anyway." Buffy glanced up at him playfully as she bent down and retrieved the next item from the box at his feet: a black leather riding crop. She looked at it carefully then bent it slightly as if testing its flexibility. She released it and it sprung back to an upright position. Her green eyes met his again as she looked up at him with a wicked gleam in her eye.

 "Uh,-" He struggled for words, a muscle in his cheek twitching. Angelus' insistent demands to simply ravage her like a plundering barbarian went unheeded. He ran a hand over his eyes trying to compose himself. Thankfully she didn't seem . offended or disturbed by any of the things she had found, but what must she be thinking of him?

Fully aware of her lover's discomfiture, Buffy continued airily, a teasing tone in her voice. "The woman who runs the shop - Mona - she was so very sweet. We were talking and, as it turns out, Angelus bought these *very* expensive things from her and so she asked if I would take them, since I ..uh, knew him and well, know you." 

"I see." Angel cleared his throat, "So, uh, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorting them." Buffy replied matter-of-factly. Using the riding crop as a pointer, she gestured to the pile containing the gold chains. "These are yeses."  She paused, smiling up at him. "These are the maybes," she pointed at the stack in the middle which surprisingly contained the braided whip, and these," she paused again, this time frowning and looking up at him with a slight admonishment as she pointed to the remaining group of items, "are the not on your life's."

Conflicting sensations of lust and embarrassment raced through him. If he could have blushed, he was sure he would have, yet at the same time he was more than a little intrigued, not to mention, turned on. Inside his head, his demon was objecting to her rejection of some of "his" toys and offering lewd suggestions about how best to show her that they would be enjoyable - at least for him.

Staring directly into his dark eyes, she placed the riding crop on her "maybe" pile. Her sparkling green eyes exuded a mischievous sensuality that beckoned to him.

Angel swallowed hard.

Buffy dropped her gaze and reached into the box, this time retrieving a black velvet jewel case. She let out a small gasp as she opened it, exclaiming softly, "Oh, Angel. These are beautiful."

Angel glanced down as Buffy turned the box slightly so he could see what she was looking at.

Inside the box on the crushed black velvet were two delicate gold chains about two inches long with teardrop shaped rubies on each end. Another longer gold chain connected the two just beneath the circular opening at the top. Beneath them, nestled in the black velvet was another item: a "U" shaped clip. At the opening of each end of the clip there were two more strands of the delicate gold chain with three smaller teardrop shaped rubies suspended in a row along each chain.

"Earrings?" She questioned softly as she ran her finger lightly over one of the fine gold chains. She was intrigued by the unique and stunning jewelry. She glanced up at Angel where he stood next to the bed, still unmoving.

"But how do they stay on? And what is this clip thing?"

Angel's eyebrows lifted at her question and he stared down at the objects in the velvet box, his mind filling with images of Buffy wearing the delicate gold chains with the rich rubies, the gold shimmering richly against her skin, the deep red of the rubies like drops of blood. He felt an immediate and essential need to see her clad in the exotic body jewelry.

With deliberate movements, he reached around her and collected all of the objects strewn on the bed, returning them to the box, which he then pushed aside. Almost as an afterthought, he bent and retrieved the riding crop, placing it on the bed next to her. He then took the jewel box from her hand and sat it down as well before returning his gaze to her face. His dark eyes were intense and Buffy felt a shiver of lust creep along her spine at the way he looked at her. 

In the back of his mind, Angelus was still crowing loudly about "his" stuff and continuing with his apparently unending suggestions. Well it may be your stuff, but I get to play with it and with Buffy. Watch and learn. Angel smirked to his demon and shrugged out of his coat, tossing it onto the nearby chair. Angelus went silent, angry and pouting.

Standing behind her where she sat near the edge of the bed, Angel placed his hands on her bare shoulders.

Buffy felt goose bumps form along her arms at the light touch of his cool fingers stroking her skin, sliding from the nape of her neck to her shoulders then slowly down her arms only to reverse direction, retracing the now tingling path back until he reached the healing mark on her neck. He traced the mark with his fingertips as Buffy closed her eyes and tilted her head, his touch like wildfire to her senses.

"Those aren't earrings, love." His voice was low, husky and close to her ear. His hands slid down her arms as his lips brushed along the nape of her neck following the path his fingers were making along her skin. He was painfully erect and throbbing, his arousal blatant and straining in the tight leather pants.

"Trust me?"  He questioned in a soft purring whisper, nuzzling the healing mark on her neck.

The black and white Venus pearl earrings swung gently from the lobes of her ears as she turned her head slightly to look at the two objects that sat next to her on the bed. After only a brief pause, she turned her head further in order to see his face. Without hesitation, she nodded.

"Stay there." He murmured against her ear, brushing it with a kiss as his hands dropped from her arms.

Angel moved silently around the room, lighting the tray of scented candles that now sat on the dresser before turning off the lamp and leaving the room dimly cast in a golden glow.

Buffy watched him as he stripped off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. She had always thought him the most beautiful creature, powerful and tall, graceful. So handsome she felt compelled to look at him whenever he was near, as if she hadn't already committed every detail of his image to memory years ago.

Moving back to the bed and stopping behind her once again, Angel planted kisses along the nape of her neck and her bare shoulders, his hands once more running along her arms, his fingertips grazing her breasts through the black satin. His hands moved over her possessively, as if he couldn't get enough of the feel of her. He inhaled deeply, savoring the intoxicating scents that encompassed her; the sweet vanilla fragrance that wafted from her skin; the delicious tang of her blood that called to him and her sweet-scented dewy sex, wet with desire.

"Stand up for me, love. Let me see you." Stepping back, he leaned against the wall and waited.

Turning slightly, putting first one foot then the other on the floor, Buffy glanced briefly at the items on the bed next to her before she rose gracefully to her feet. With a tremulous murmur, she gestured to the outfit that she wore, "This was in the box too."

Angel simply nodded, his eyes never leaving the arresting beauty of his mate. He was bewitched by the contrast of her golden innocence with the dark salacious attire she wore.

With his heated eyes watching her intently, Buffy posed for him, twirling in a slow circle as the heat swirling through her belly shot through her veins in a fierce surge of lust.

Her skin fairly gleamed against the black satin corset, the cinched in style minimizing her waist and pushing her breasts up in an almost ostentatious display. The corset laced up both the front and the back, the tightly pulled crisscrossing silk cord tied neatly into bows at the top. A matching black satin garter belt rested just above her hips, the garters framing the rounded curves of her behind and connecting to seamed black stockings. A g-string made of the merest wisp of fabric covered the neatly trimmed curls of her mound, revealing as much as it concealed. Her long muscular legs were exquisitely displayed in the sheer black stockings. Lastly, his eyes dropped to her feet and the shiny black patent leather stiletto heeled pumps encasing them.

His demon's excellent choice in lingerie could not be denied. 

She was temptation incarnate.

Buffy paused, having come full circle back around to face him. Her eyes shimmered with heated invitation as she stared back at him.

"Touch me." She breathed softly, her words breaking the hushed silence.

Her breathy words pushing him in to action, Angel shoved away from the wall and took a step forward to stand directly in front of her. Bending slightly, he lowered his lips to hers as his arms encircled her waist.

Buffy tilted her head back as his lips settled on hers in a slow, leisurely kiss. His kiss was gentle and unhurried, intended to heighten passion yet not hasten it along to the inevitable conclusion. When she parted her lips under the insistent pressure of his, the velvety caress of his tongue swept into her mouth, exploring and tasting before intertwining with hers. 

Her breathing quickened and Buffy's hands came up to his arms. She gripped his biceps as his kiss grew more demanding, her mouth opening wider under his as his tongue probed with skillful, assertive insistence.

"Mmm. You feel so good, Angel." She murmured with a breathy sign when he lifted his head slightly to allow her to take a breath. Her hips undulated against him, her high heels allowing the apex of her thighs to meet the hard ridge of his arousal in perfect carnal invitation. 

"You look." Angel whispered as he brushed his hand over her straining breasts. The plump mounds quivered with her every breath, threatening to spill over the top at any moment.  ".incredible." 

His lips brushed hers lightly with a kiss, "and you taste." Grasping her gently behind the neck he pulled her to him and kissed her. a deep, heated intrusive kiss that ate at her mouth caused, he noted with satisfaction, her pulse to beat faster and her breathing to change to short, little pants. ".delicious."

His gaze drifted from her closed eyes to her kiss swollen lips, then lower to the healing wound and reformed scar on her neck. He took perverse pleasure in the mark. It was a sign of his ownership, undeniable evidence that she belonged to him, wholly and completely. It reminded him of Buffy's total acceptance of him. All of him: man and demon.

His fingers splayed over her narrow waist and hip as his other hand moved from her neck to the silken cord tie that held the corset together. With deft fingers, he loosened the fabric until he could ease it away from her body and slip it down past her hips to the floor. After helping Buffy step out of it, he tossed it aside.

He stood for a moment gazing at her, struck once more by her ethereal beauty. His golden Venus. His lover, his mate. 

Reaching up, Angel cupped her bare breast in his palm. His fingertips stroked the outer curve gently as his eyes drifted over her, admiring her lush, opulent curves and satiny flesh in the golden glow of the candlelight.

"I love your breasts." He whispered as his fingertip traced a lazy circle around one jutting nipple.  Taking the peaking crests between his forefingers and thumbs, he squeezed gently then with more pressure, watching as they engorged and hardened even more.

Buffy's eyes drifted shut, her breathing hushed.

"Perfect, pink hard nipples." Angel whispered, tugging on the taut peaks again. "Do you like it when I touch them?"

Her only reply was a soft moan.

"You have to tell me if you like it, sweet, or I won't know how to please you." He murmured softly, placing a soft kiss on her neck before tugging on the distended peaks firmly again. "Tell me. Do you like it?"

Her green eyes opened to look at him, her gaze tantalized, restless. "Yeesss."

Smiling, he bent and flicked his tongue over one rigid nipple barely grazing it with the tantalizing caress.

Buffy shuddered at the delicate touch, her hands lifting to sink into the thick mass of his hair.

Angel shifted slightly, grazing the other taut peak with the same teasing lick.

"Annnggellll." She whined softly, tugging on his hair in an attempt to draw him closer. Her back arched as she pressed forward, offering herself to him.

"Hm? Did you want something else, love?" He murmured, the query provocative with suggestion. Blowing a cool breath over one firm tip, he asked softly, "Do you want me to suck on your pretty little nipples then? Is that what you want?"

She nodded, unable to find sufficient air to speak and her fingers tightened in his hair.

He slowly drew the rigid jewel of her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and teeth for long minutes until Buffy thought she would swoon. When she felt the first gentle sucking pressure of his mouth, a soft gasp escaped her lips. When the gentle sucking pressure increased to forceful pulls, Buffy whimpered at the bewitching rush of pleasure and clutched him tightly, holding him to her breast.

Her pulsed raced and little sounds of pleasure escaped her lips as he licked and sucked, his mouth closing wet and hungry over each cresting tip as he lavished them equally with attention, teasing them into hard arching peaks.

When her nipples were swollen, wet and engorged to his satisfaction, Angel lifted his head and reached for the jewel box on the bed.

Buffy opened her eyes and mewled softly in protest when he pulled away, but watched with fascination as he removed the delicate jewel chains from the box. The dark rubies glittered blood red in the golden candlelight while the delicate chains that held them appeared to be almost liquid gold.  While the chains looked delicate, they were actually designed to be exceedingly strong.

"They're beautiful." Buffy murmured softly her eyes flitting to Angel's somewhat nervously.

"You're beautiful."  He whispered in reply, brushing her lips with a kiss. His gaze moved from her face to the taut peaks of her full breasts. He paused infinitesimally. "Still trust me?"

"Yes." She breathed softly, her nerves tingling in anticipation.

She watched closely as Angel opened the circular fastening at the top of each of the two chains and slipped them around his fingertips. The teardrop shaped ruby swung slightly, suspended from his finger as he slipped the circular opening around one jewel hard nipple.  Buffy gasped when he pulled it closed with a quick jerk, adjusting it to fit tightly before fitting the other jewel on her other breast. The rubies dangled just above her ribs, while the third chain that connected the two dangled between her breasts. The rubies swung gently with each of her breaths, pulling on the snug pressure of the delicate loops and sending shockwaves of pleasure from her nipples through her body straight to her wet, heated core. 

"Does it feel good, baby?" Angel murmured, his dark eyes fixed on her face as his hand toyed with the dangling jewels, flicking them with his fingers so they would swing, tugging on them gently.

"Tell me." He softly prompted, his eyes dropping to the elongated crests of her nipples so erotically adorned with the jewels. They were exquisite on her, just as he had expected them to be.

She inhaled but said nothing, the insinuation in his voice tantalizing. She felt another flood of moisture between her legs, adding to the slippery wetness, her readiness for him. It both excited her and frightened her how much she craved this dominant side of him.

"Talk to me, love." He whispered, flicking the dangling rubies with his fingers once again. He tugged on the suspended chain roughly and Buffy cried out softly at the painfully erotic sensation. "You want more?"

"Yesss." She purred in a throaty contralto, her lashes fluttering as she opened her eyes. Her hands had slid from his hair to his shoulders were gripping with almost bruising strength.

"Want to try your other jewelry on now, sweet?" He brushed a kiss on each hard, rosy nipple then swirled his cool tongue around each engorged peak before biting down gently. 

Buffy's breath hitched as she nodded and murmured a barely audible affirmative reply. In the next instant, she gasped loudly as Angel ripped the tiny g-string from her with a quick tug.

"Pretty thing." He murmured softly, tossing it carelessly away. A small smile graced his lips.

"Lie down for me, love," Angel pulled her forward gently as he reached for the last item remaining in the black velvet box. "And spread your legs."

Her breath coming in shallow pants, Buffy slowly laid back on the big bed her legs dangling down the side. She parted her thighs slightly, her muscles tensed in nervous anticipation.  

Standing between her legs, Angel lifted her thighs and propped her feet on the bed. Running his hands slowly along her inner thighs, he eased them apart while savoring the feel of her heated, silken skin beneath his palms.

Buffy's eyes closed under the riveting sensation of his touch as his fingers brushed over her rosy, swollen vulva. She moaned deep in her throat as the flames of desire licked at her every nerve.

"You're beautiful, sweetheart." He said quietly as he adjusted the bend of her knees and pushed her thighs further apart, leaving her beautifully and intimately exposed to him.

"So hot and wet for me." The low, husky whisper of his voice drifted over her as his fingers parted her pouty folds, opening her and massaging the pliant flesh with gentle, erotic caresses.

His fingers were cool on her as they danced over the throbbing, engorged nub of her clitoris, rubbing it gently before dipping between her folds to slide inside. Buffy felt a quiver race through her senses, and she trembled, suddenly feeling close to the edge of climax.

As he leaned down, his hair brushed her thigh with the lightest brushing caress and she stirred restlessly on the bed. In the next instant, his tongue slid over her dewy wetness and Buffy arched her back, stifling a scream in her throat as the liquid evidence of her desire flooded his tongue.

"Let's try this, shall we?" Angel planted a soft nipping kiss on her inner thigh, his fingers once more drifting over her wet cleft.

Buffy was unable to reply, her words stifled by the intoxicating sensations consuming her.

Taking the jeweled u-shaped clip in his fingers, he slid the opening carefully along the taut flesh of her clitoris from the top, forcing it down until it fit snugly around the engorged nub. The clip fit tightly as it was meant to, the device designed to create more powerful orgasms by pinching together the bundle of super sensitive nerves. The gold chain with the dark rubies dangled enticingly down either side of her succulent feminine opening, framing it perfectly for his attention.

Buffy let out a soft whimper when he released the jewel and Angel glanced up swiftly at her face. Assured that the small sound wasn't one of pain, he covered her wet cleft completely with his fingers and squeezed gently.

She gasped, stunned for a moment as hundreds of tiny vibrations of pleasure crept over her, all seemingly concentrated at the gently imprisoned bundle of nerves between her legs.

Leaning back, Angel's eyes swept over the enticing view of his mate's body so erotically adorned. He reached down and flicked the tiny gold chains between her legs.

"Stand up, love," He murmured softly, reaching for her hands. "Walk for me."

Buffy whimpered softly when he helped her to her feet, closing her eyes tightly against the riveting sensations coursing through her body. She took a step forward and stopped, taking a deep breath of air as she absorbed the shattering sensation; a low almost indistinguishable moan vibrated in her throat. Her body was already on fire and the gently swinging rubies only added to the feverish desire.

Her eyes drifted open slowly and she turned around to look at her lover where he now lay lounging on the bed and watching her. She shifted her stance, clenching her legs together.

"Can you feel it?" His question was rhetorical. Her face was flush with passion, her eyes dark and internally focused, her breathing erratic.

The tiny vibrations continued to hum through her body in heated waves.

"Spread your legs for me." His voice a silky purr as he lifted the riding crop from the bed.

"Buffy." He commanded when she hesitated, her overwrought passions quickening with an alarming pace.

At the slight demand, she took a deep breath and shifted her legs easing them apart. The dark rubies appeared darker against her golden skin as the chains swayed slightly between her legs.

Lifting the crop he traced a path along one thigh beginning at her knee, up her hip and across her abdomen. He teased her belly button before moving up to her ribs and the under curve of her breast with only the lightest touch of the soft leather.

Buffy shivered, her skin rippling under the featherlike touch of the leather. She'd gone completely motionless when he had picked up the wicked looking black crop, but it had not slowed the tremors of desire that continued to bubble inside her. Desire now mixed with a hint of apprehension.

"Turn around." He demanded softly, his eyes roving her; her strong and perfectly formed legs covered with the black silk, the rounded swell of her bottom framed by the straps of the garter, the firm smooth, muscles of her back. With the same light touch, he traced a pattern with the crop, moving slowly from the back of one knee to the curve of her behind.

"Did you like what you saw in the box, Buffy? Did it excite you?" He purred, as he continued the teasing brush of the riding crop along one hip. He was enticed by her lush beauty, her obvious passion, and the wanton display she made in her jewels and the black stockings. "Did it make you wet, thinking about the lascivious plans that Angelus had for you?"

"Yes," Buffy breathed, barely able to speak, the tiny clip and the swaying rubies sending wild frissons of rapture coursing through her body, his voice adding to her feverish desire.

He was beside her then, moving so swiftly and silently that she hadn't heard him get off the bed. She could feel the cool leather of his pants against the warm skin of her behind and she unconsciously shifted back to rub against in him a shameless cat-like caress.

One of Angel's hands slid over her hip to splay across her stomach. Reaching around her with his other hand, he drew the tip of the crop up her thigh in a slow caress moving upward until it reached the very center of her desire.  Buffy's breath hitched and her arms lifted over her head to twine around his neck.

Beginning at her knee, he guided the crop up her other thigh. This time when he reached the apex of her thighs, he slipped the leather rod between her legs, tracing her wet and swollen cleft.  He held her tightly against him, his lips nuzzling her neck as he guided the crop between her legs, moving it with steadily increasing strokes. The liquid evidence of her desire coated the shaft as it slithered between her legs with his increasing friction.

Buffy's head dropped back against his chest in abandonment, her hips writhing against the sweet pressure and gentle friction.

"Do you like it, sweet?" Angel murmured against her ear, his voice low and husky, "Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes. yes. Angel. please. whatever you want." Her voice drifted away, all her senses focused on the hot pulsing core of her body as the trembling rapture intensified. She was hovering just on the brink of ecstasy, her own wetness running down her thighs in lush profusion.

"Mmm. What I want." He whispered, a faint smile on his lips. ".is to make you scream with pleasure."

He pressed his erection firmly against her bottom as he stopped the motions of his hand, drawing the riding crop away from her wet and quivering flesh. After a breath-held moment, he struck her with it, the crop swinging with a soft swish in a carefully applied stroke to the sensitive and distended flesh of Buffy's clitoris. 

"Annhhh-geell!" Her scream was loud as it accompanied the first glorious spasm that washed over her, followed by the countless sublime peaking orgasms that curled through her with such savage intensity that she thought she would explode.  His arm tightened around her waist when her knees buckled and he held her against him until the quivering sensations subsided. She was panting softly, her breathing the only sound in the hushed room. 

"Oh god." She whispered, her eyes opened slowly and she lazily rocked against him, not wanting to relinquish the blissful rapture still strumming through her body.

"I never. That was."  Her voice was touched with a bit of wonder. "Oh."

"Amazing?"  He smiled at her, his hand moving up from her stomach to cup her breast as she regained her own footing.

"Mmm. no, way better than that." Buffy purred softly as she stretched upward. She flinched slightly when she moved, feeling the jewel between her legs exerting a now almost painful pressure on her hypersensitive clit.

"I love you." He whispered against her ear, nibbling on the lobe. Leaning against her back, his hand slipped between her legs and he carefully removed the small jeweled clip from her body - a procedure which, given his nimble fingers and skill combined with the delicate touches, powerfully incited her desire.

"I love you." She purred in reply, rubbing her bottom firmly against the ridge of his arousal that she could feel behind her. Turning to the bed, Buffy leaned over and placed her hands flat on the mattress. Looking over her shoulder at him, she parted her legs further in obvious invitation.

"So beautiful." His dark eyes swept over the swell of her bottom, the long legs in the black stockings, her smooth firm back. Buffy's head was down, her hands clenching the heavy comforter that covered the bed.  The dark rubies on their gold chains hung from her breasts still, swinging beneath her as she leaned on the bed waiting for him.

His erection straining against his pants, Angel moved behind her and leaned over her to press nipping kisses down her back along her spine. She jumped slightly when he bit down with blunted teeth on the rounded curve of her ass and he smiled against the firm flesh.

Buffy felt the smooth leather of the riding crop brushing along her spine, moving lower across the dimples in her back before moving with lingering slowness over her behind.  She inhaled sharply when the soft leather swept over the puckered rosette between her bottom cheeks before traveling down to her dewy wet vulva.

A small needy moan escaped her lips as the crop came in contact with her sensitive and engorged clit. After a minute hesitation, Buffy rocked her hips against the leather object that was now stroking the sensitive spot with such delicious intent.

He continued the tantalizing enticement until her breathing became erratic and she was once more quivering with need. Dropping the riding crop on the floor, Angel replaced it with his fingers. He slid one finger inside her then a second as her back arched and her hips thrust back to meet the firm strokes of his hand.

"That's it baby, show me what you want." He whispered, leaning down to nip at her back. His other hand gripped her hip, guiding her and encouraging her movements.

Buffy immediately responded to the heat in his words, parting her legs wider and rolling her hips harder. She was flagrantly and wantonly open to him, her breath coming in panting gasps.

"Angel." Buffy whimpered softly, bucking back against him provocatively. "Fuck me now. Please, baby."

Her words his undoing, Angel unzipped his pants, shoving the leather down his hips and kicking then away.  Wanting her with a greedy desperation that was becoming habit, he positioned himself at the entrance to her body, rubbing the crest of his erection back and forth over her pouting lips for a teasing moment before he thrust inside her with barely restrained violence.

"Yes." She crooned softly, bracing her arms against the driving thrusts as he withdrew almost completely before slowly, deliberately slamming into her again. Each thrust was deliberate, probing, complete.

As his hips continued their driving invasion, his hands roamed over her, stroking the curve of her bottom and hips, skimming her waist. He shifted slightly and pressed his chest to her back, his hands reaching under her and closing over her breasts, his fingers kneading the soft mounds of flesh.

Buffy gasped and arched into his hands and his fingers found the jewels dangling from her nipples and tugged. Her hips rocked against him in a restless fervor, soft cries of pleasure escaping her lips as each thrusting stroke reached home. Angel's throaty growls only added to the rapidly increasing wildness of their mating.

He drove into her, over and over. She enveloped his senses completely: her breathy cries of passion sounding in his ears, the lush profusion of her liquid body heat nearly burning him, the scent of her arousal creating an erotic fragrance that filled his nostrils.

A primitive need for possession stirred.

Another low growl rumbled in his chest and his eyes flashed gold as his vampiric nature began to surface. Rather than push it away as was his habit, he savored it. His tongue traced a path over his teeth, as his fangs lengthened and his features began to morph.

Sunk deep inside her he paused, savoring the tight, wet, scalding heat that surrounded him. One hand cupped her breast, his fingertips rolling the tight aching bud of her nipple firmly, while the other hand splayed over the quivering tautness of her belly, holding her to him tightly.

She wiggled her hips and her vaginal muscles flexed, closing tightly and intimately around him. She felt him growl, the sound harsh and deep and he surged powerfully against her again. Buffy grew frantic as each impaling stroke drove her relentlessly just to the edge of release but not allowing her to spill over.

Angel nuzzled the nape of her neck, his fangs scraping.

Reaching up with one hand, she removed the black velvet choker that she wore, instinctively moving it out of his way. Her need was as excruciating as his.

He bit down, sinking his fangs in her throat in a primitive act of dominance and a wild cry escaped her lips as a delirious rapture arced through her. He drew on the bite, tasting her blood as he continued to move, pushing into her in a relentless act of possession. 

The large hand on her stomach moved lower, brushing over her soft curls to probe intimately between her legs and suddenly she was there.

"Ahhnn-gell!"  Screaming his name, her voice high strung and fill of yearning, Buffy slammed her hips backward into his as reality fractured, hurling her into blissful, heated darkness. She heard only the sound of her thundering heart and the matching vibration of Angel's purr, as he gathered her close and joined her in scorching, cataclysmic release.

After the shimmering rapture was reduced to manageable levels, they finally roused. Angel patiently removed Buffy's jewels, including the dragonfly pins in her hair, then her garters and stockings as she languidly lounged on the bed. Actions which, given their current heightened sensual awareness, soon led to additional intimate pursuits.

Much, much later Angel tucked a very sated and content Slayer under the covers, smiling as she mumbled sleepily and clutched at him. 

Closing his eyes and pulling her closer, he dropped a soft kiss on her hair.

It was good to be home.

 

 

Part XIV

 

The loud crash outside the window startled them both out of a sound sleep, Angel rolling quickly and coming to his feet on one side of the bed, Buffy scrambling to her knees still on the bed. Their eyes met briefly, then Angel began tugging on his pants with one hand as he reached under the bed for the sword that he had placed there with the other. Buffy scrambled to her feet and threw on the first thing she could grab - Angel's silk shirt.

A tinny rumbling rattle sounded again, echoing through the quiet morning air.

"You are not going down there in just that." Angel hissed quietly after he glanced at Buffy where she now stood next to him, her bare legs peeking below the hem of the shirt. Granted, because he was so tall and she so small, the shirt came almost to her knees, but still. she *was* naked underneath. Leaning cautiously through the bedroom door, he looked down the hallway toward the stairs.

"Well, you're not exactly going out *there*." Buffy retorted indignantly, her sentence punctuated by the stomp of a small foot.

With the lift of an eyebrow, Angel glanced back at her before he quickly moved into the hallway and down the stairs.

"You'll get a sunburn."  Buffy called out softly in warning as she followed him, glancing meaningfully at the bedroom across the hall where the gray light of the breaking dawn could be seen clearly.

"You're *still* not going outside in that." He grumbled, reaching the bottom of the stairs and turning into the kitchen. He moved toward the door and peeked carefully through the blinds covering the window.

"And you're planning on checking out the noise how?" She questioned in a sweetly sarcastic voice just before pushing him aside and opening the door. She smiled sweetly and stepped out into the backyard before he could stop her.

"Buffy. damn it!" Angel barked in a loud frustrated whisper as she flounced away from the door and disappeared around the corner. He quickly debated his options with the sun now creeping steadily higher in the sky and filling the yard with deadly golden rays of sunshine. Before he had a chance to reach a decision, Buffy reappeared at the door, a fluffy gray and white cat in her arms.

"Nothing demony, just a kitty. She knocked over the garbage cans."  Still petting the loudly purring creature, she smiled up at her almost snarling boyfriend. 

"Stop growling, you're scaring her." She admonished lightly before murmuring soothingly to the squirming cat that was now staring at Angel with wide blue eyes.

"Buffy-"

"Poor thing, she must be starving."  Buffy interrupted, glancing up thoughtfully.

Angel blinked as Buffy shoved the gray ball of fur into his arms and then swept past him and opened the refrigerator. Calmly, she took out a leftover chicken breast and shredded it into pieces with her fingers. She talked to the young cat in a baby voice as she worked, completely ignoring her glowering vampire as he watched her with stunned confusion while attempting to hold on to the wriggling mass of fur.

Putting the chicken on plate, she retrieved the cat and set both the cat and the plate of food outside the door. "There you go kitty. Now be good. No more playing in the garbage." 

Closing the door and returning to the sink, Buffy quickly washed her hands and then swung around to face Angel where he still stood in the same spot just near the door.

"Now then." she seductively murmured, reaching for the top button on the shirt she was wearing. Slowly she padded across the room toward him, slipping a button free with every other step. By the time she reached him, the shirt was completely unbuttoned and parted enough to teasingly reveal her navel.

"You think you'll convince me to not turn you over my knee for that little stunt?"  Angel growled, his dark eyes assessing as his gaze instinctively drifted down her shapely form. "You didn't know what was out there. You could have gotten hurt." Or seen!

"Hmm." Buffy murmured softly, her hands toying with the silk collar absently as she stared up at him. His words created an explosive shocking heat that flared through her body in a wild rapacious jolt. Her eyes held his for a shuddering moment.

"Or some big bad lusty demon might have seen me..." She whispered, sliding the shirt off her shoulders but still clutching it over her breasts modestly.

Me! Me! Me! Me!  Angelus blurted in a sudden rapid staccato.

"Buffy." Angel's brows rose marginally, his gaze now trained on her nipples which were rising beneath the black silk. The material clung precariously to the tips, the rosy hue of her aureolas just visible.

"You really think that a demon like that would be interested in little ole me?"  She coyly asked, the shirt slipping down another inch, baring her breasts.

Oh yeah, baby. Bring that to over here to the big bad demon. the demon lustily purred, the mental images he was forcing through Angel's mind ratcheting up his desire.

Reaching out with one hand, Buffy idly walked her fingertips up the center of his chest. Peeking up at him from under her the thick fringe of her lashes, she murmured, "Do you think he'd." She paused before continuing in a breathy whisper, "want to see me naked?"

Yes! YES! Angelus' loud reply echoed Angel's own thoughts. His eyes narrowed, his anger and fear fast giving way to a potent need. His desire for her was unquenchable, beyond reason or sense. It was an insatiable craving, a burning ache.

"Do you think he would. ravish me?"  The shirt fell silently to the floor as Buffy's husky voice once more licked at his senses.

"And. would he tie-" The rest of her sentence ended in an abrupt squeak as Angel, possessed and impatient, swept her over his shoulder and strode out of the kitchen. Taking the stairs two at a time with lust burning in his brain and through his body, he made his way to their bedroom.

With her face pressed against the Gryphon tattoo, Buffy smiled. This was much preferred to arguing when it came to methods of dealing with her vampire's anger; most definitely something to keep in mind.

****

Despite the sheer contentment humming through his senses, Angel lay awake in the darkened bedroom. Against his side, Buffy slept, her back curled against his side, her head pillowed on his arm.

When she stirred slightly, he rolled over onto his side and gathered her close. His arm slid around her waist as he buried his face in her hair, refilling his senses with scent and her silken warmth. A contented purr sounded in his chest.

Buffy sighed softly, finding the heavy weight of his arm across her middle and the low rumbling vibrations against her back comforting. After a few minutes, her breathing returned to the deep and steady rhythm of sleep.

Angel's gaze drifted over her contemplatively. There was no denying it. Her scent. it was different. Altered. And had been since their return to LA. He had noticed it yesterday but hadn't dared to even consider the implications until now.

The subtle change was similar to his demon's memory of how it had been after her 17^th birthday.

Was Buffy was pregnant with his child?

When she had told him about baby Liam, she had mentioned that together they could have children but she hadn't elaborated on the how's or why's. so was it at all possible? 

He could scarcely believe that they had even been gifted with one miracle child, but two?  To be so blessed as to have a second chance. another baby to perhaps help lessen the scars that had been formed when Liam had been stolen so tragically. it seemed a precarious tempting of fate to even contemplate such a blessed miracle.

Almost unconsciously, his hand splayed over Buffy's still flat, firm stomach. The often wished for dream of seeing Buffy pregnant with his babe, watching her bloom with motherhood. it was almost unimaginable. Sheer wonder was reflected in his eyes as he looked down at her sleeping face, blonde tendrils of hair cascading over her cheek.

Would her child have the same mossy green eyes?  The same golden blonde curls? He wondered suddenly, struck afresh with the thought of the new life they may have created.

Without a doubt, the thought of his child, curled up under Buffy's heart filled him with pride and unbounded happiness. It made some strange kind of sense. as if, somehow he was close to fulfilling some key purpose for his life; some reason for being. He had known once that Buffy was his destiny. Could this - their child - be part of his purpose? A reason for having been returned from hell?

In the midst of the waves of happiness swelling within him, a touch of guilt crept into his mind. Did Buffy want a child?  Or more to the point perhaps, did she want a child now?   He was unused to the need for precautions during sex, so he hadn't given any thought to it and they certainly hadn't taken any.  This child would change her life., which was already complicated. And they had scarcely had time to reestablish their relationship, much less prepare for a child.

Still, he smiled in the darkened room and dropped a kiss on the top of Buffy's head. A baby.

His thoughts drifted to Connor when he first held the tiny baby in his arms, so small, so helpless. He had felt as if he had been entrusted with the most precious gift... Suddenly, alarm skittered through his brain. The child of a vampire and a Slayer would be a subject of intense interest to many, not to mention a valuable pawn to their enemies.  Could he- could they protect their baby from those who would seek to harm them through their child?

He knew without a doubt that Buffy would be fiercely protective of her child and that only added to his worries. She had risked her life often enough over the years for any cause that needed her, willingly throwing herself in the face of danger when necessary; doubly so when it came to defending or protecting those she loved. 

His embrace tightened as fears flooded his mind and Buffy struggled slightly in her sleep. Forcing himself to relax and loosen his grip, he kissed her hair and she relaxed against him once more. He knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, but age-old masculine prejudices insisted that he be the one to take care of her, of them.

There was no doubt that having a child terrified him. It made him feel vulnerable, exposed and unguarded. The disregard of fear, the detachment of regard for personal safety that served him so well as a warrior, as a soldier for the Powers, was impossible when his continued existence mattered now, not only to Buffy, but also to their child.

He had felt much the same when Connor had been born and yet.  with Connor he had never worried about Darla; with Buffy and their babe his fears would be tenfold. How could he protect them?

Angel sighed softly. What did he know about being a father anyway?  Connor was evidence of his skill at parenting. How could he make sure that things were different for this baby?  Could he spare this child the pain that Connor had known?

Buffy had mentioned that Giles was the one who had told her that it was possible for Slayers and ensouled vampires to have children. Knowing the meticulous, detailed oriented Watcher, he would have written down anything and everything that he could have ferreted out on the subject. It must be in the journal that he had taken from Cordelia.

Buffy murmured in protest as Angel slowly extracted himself from her and rose from the bed. He waited for a breath-held moment to assure himself that she was once again sleeping before he pulled on his robe. Retrieving the leather bound journal that belonged to Giles from the bureau drawer, he silently crept down the stairs.  He had to know everything possible about Buffy and babies - prophecies, predictions, reasons, anything. It was the only way he could keep his family safe.

Sinking into the couch, Angel turned on the small table lamp and turned the book over in his hands apprehensively. He hadn't opened the book since he'd taken it from Cordelia, wanting to talk to Buffy first. Now he was almost afraid of what he might find inside.

With a resolute sigh, he carefully opened the cover. Flipping through the first few pages, he noted that it was much like any of the journals he'd often looked through in the Watcher's office back in Sunnydale when Giles wasn't around.

The first few pages were mostly comments and observations about Buffy: her wit, her humor, and her slaying ability.  Several pages into the thick journal he spotted his name in a short paragraph. Giles had written of his concerns about Buffy's interest, along with his observations of her obvious and immediate infatuation with the "tall, dark-haired vampire."  There were several notes about "Angelus" that followed, indicating that Giles had indeed begun his research immediately after finding out who Angel was. Several pages later near the bottom of the page, Giles had noted with explicit relief that the relationship between "Buffy and Angelus" had apparently cooled. 

Angel shook his head slightly. "Cooled" wasn't a word he would have used. Yes, he had tried for a several months to help her without becoming directly involved with her, but he had found that to be impossible.

The next several pages were about various incidents in Sunnydale: a Moloch demon, a puppet show, several pages of dream analysis and mystical meanings, a little boy named Billy. In the margin of one page Giles noted that Buffy had begun to have more frequent prophetic dreams, a sign that she was coming into her own as a Slayer.

Angel skimmed the pages quickly, his primary interest at the moment in finding information about babies rather than reading Buffy's history - although he knew it well enough from his own memories and his own journals that he probably could have written a substantial volume about Buffy on his own. He chuckled slightly. Only his would include sketches.

Flipping forward several dozen pages impatiently, Angel stopped.

Carefully taped to the heavy vellum of the journal page, was a letter that Giles had received from the Watchers council.  It appeared to be a response to some correspondence that the Watcher had obviously sent them regarding Angel and his relationship with Buffy.

In the short, boldly scrawled paragraph, the Council demanded that Giles separate "the Slayer from the cursed vampire, Angelus, immediately and permanently". The author didn't offer any explanation why, but in a few additional tersely worded sentences emphasized that it was Giles' responsibility to see to it that it happen immediately. The letter was signed simply, Ian Jeffries. Who the hell was he? Some Council Chairman or high ranking official? 

Who the fuck cares?  He's a dead man now, that's who he is.  Angelus grumbled angrily.

Shut up. You'd kill everyone. Angel absently replied to the demon in thought, something he rarely did anymore. He usually preferred to ignore the demon; responding to him usually just made him chatty.

Yeah? And you don't kill often enough. Like say, a certain dyed blonde, constant yapping, can't keep her legs closed bitch. The one that betrayed you, that screwed your own son, not to mention-

Yeah, I know, I know. I got it, already. Angel sighed and shook his head, interrupting the demon's tirade and ignoring his further commentary.

Scanning the previous pages, he searched for any indication of the contents of Giles' letter, wondering what the Watcher had written to them to provoke such an unequivocal response. Instead he found only a few entries in which Buffy's Watcher had written, "Albeit with a few reservations, I do approve of Angel helping Buffy with slaying. Strength in numbers, as they often say. At any rate, it certainly can't hurt." Although further down the page he once again expressed his concern about their obviously growing attachment to each other and what he suspected to be an increasing level of intimacy.

The vampire's brow lifted at Giles's next carefully penned, naïve assertion: "Yet, I can say with utmost confidence that I do believe that Angel, given his advanced age and experience, will not seduce a teenage girl." 

Angel chuckled. If age or experience had anything to do with it, perhaps he might have found it in him to resist his own desires but with Buffy, love and passion pretty much overrode any and all of his scruples or concerns.

He read through several more of Giles' entries in which the former librarian expanded on his increasing concern about their growing relationship. In addition, there were several more angry letters from the Council, many of then disparaging Giles for his complacency in dealing with the "absurd situation that he had allowed to develop" along with their continued demands that he see to it that "the Slayer and Angelus" be separated permanently. They reiterated their concerns about the dangerous presence of "Angelus, a known murderer and vicious monster," only grudgingly acknowledging his soul as well as his knowledge and aid in fighting the demons on the Hellmouth.

The last line of the next letter caught his eye, "Our stance on vampires is quite clear, Mr. Giles, and you would do well to heed it before we must remove you from your post. Regardless of his current leaning, Angelus is a danger and a threat to all, and most especially to the Slayer. He must be removed in any way necessary."  The implication was clear: if necessary, Giles was to kill him.

Angel briefly wondered why the former Sunnydale librarian had never followed the orders he had been given. In fact, Giles had never appeared as the slightest threat to him until after Jenny's death. Only then did the Watcher actually attempt to carry out the Council's wishes, but then it was about revenge and retaliation, not about following orders.

Thoughtfully, Angel turned the page. Carefully printed on the top was an excerpt from the Pergamum Codex, still in the Latin translation of an ancient demonic tongue. Beneath the carefully cited passage was a hastily scribbled translation followed by Giles' own notes.

Reading it carefully, Angel understood the translation to be a prophecy that predicted a child to be born of a Slayer, sired by a vampire with a soul. It was believed that the child would be a great power, but from what they could ascertain so far, they were uncertain if the child would be a power for good or for evil.  In the margin of the page, Giles had written a page number, indicating that there was additional information to be found later in the journal. Angel made a mental note of the number and then continued to read.

On the very next page, in considerable detail was the explanation of "how": it was believed that a warrior in possession of a soul combined with the supernatural power of the Slayer lineage was sufficient to create life. Slayers were typically infertile without the intervention or involvement of mystical forces. Vampires, were of course, typically infertile period. The exact mystical properties were cited in mathematical formulas and chemical equations. In general terms though, it was so surprisingly simple that Angel read it twice over to see what he was missing.

Given such a simple explanation, it was likely that Buffy was pregnant.  The serious expression on his face slowly transformed into a smile.  With his thoughts drifting to blissful fantasies about Buffy and babies, he glanced at the next page with casual disinterest.

The letter taped to the journal was another one from Ian Jeffries, only this one was longer than all of the previous ones. He admonished Giles severely for not separating "Buffy and Angelus" and explicitly blaming him for the loss of Angel's soul. He demanded that Buffy be carefully watched for signs of pregnancy and stated that a team from the Council would be sent to Sunnydale immediately to "assist as required."

The next words caused the hair on the back of Angel's neck to stand on end, and a low growl rumbled through his throat.

"Should such an abomination result from this ghastly and unsanctioned liaison, it must be aborted posthaste."

Angelus snarled loudly. Dead. All of them. Any one that the First left alive, we find. We kill.

Agreed. Angel acknowledged the demon's comment without hesitation or consideration. Despite wanting to stop and simply throw the book across the room, he continued to read.

"Furthermore, if the girl is allowed to carry the child to term, then it must be taken from her immediately and turned over to the Council's special operations team. It will be cared for and observed.

We trust that you understand this directive and that your insubordination in this matter will not be allowed to continue.

As a matter of record, your concern that the prophecy is as of yet incompletely translated has been duly noted in the official Council register, as has your assertion that the inclination of the prophesized child, whether good or evil, cannot be ascertained from the current translation. We fully understand the ramifications of the decision that we must make in this matter and have noted your objections. We do acknowledge that the child may not be a danger, however, we find that this is a chance that we are not willing to take at this time."

Angel slammed the book shut, his fingers tightly gripping the leather cover and threatening to separate it from the spine as his demon continued to snarl loudly, the sound ricocheting through his head in angry bursts. His eyes flashed gold and his demonic visage appeared as the scenario of the Watcher's Council taking their child from Buffy played itself out in his mind. He doubted if she had any idea that she and the baby would have been at risk from the Council.

Long minutes later, when the initial fear and rage began to abate slightly, mollified by the fact that the Council had all but been destroyed by the First several years ago and never reformed, Angel slowly opened the book again.  He flipped back to the page where he had been and once more resisted ripping the letter from the page and shredding it to bits.

Two pages later, Giles had written a brief paragraph simply stating that he did not believe Buffy to be pregnant.  The entry was dated almost two weeks before the former Watcher had been captured and tortured to reveal the secrets of Acathla. 

The Watcher's incorrect assumption had been a small favor; no team had been sent to Sunnydale to hunt down the Slayer. Although, that might have changed had she not run away to LA and the truth revealed.

Angel rubbed a hand over his eyes in anger and frustration. No matter which way you turned, it seemed that their lives would have been in peril.

The final entry on the page was a brief sentence simply stating Angelus had been destroyed and Acathla sealed.

Angel flipped past Giles' paragraphs about his frustrated search for Buffy in the months that followed her disappearance, stopping when he found a note about her return to Sunnydale.

The next few pages were mostly training details; Giles' prep obviously for Buffy now that she had returned to her duties.

Several pages later, in bold black ink Giles had written about Buffy's pregnancy.  He had been startled when she had confessed that she had been pregnant, but had lost the baby. He wrote the word "Miscarriage?" beneath the few brief sentences. Apparently she hadn't been forthcoming with details about the tragic incident with the Shaqti with the former Watcher. Had she told him the complete truth, Giles likely would have written about the demons in detail.

It seemed that Buffy had simply inquired how and why, and the Watcher had written that he had told her only a few partial answers. With Angel gone, there was no longer any need to worry about the fulfillment of any prophecy regarding the Slayer and babies and there was, in his opinion, not need to alarm Buffy with specific details or any of the Council's concerns about the child. They needed her focused and on duty.

Angel growled again at the apparent lack of personal concern for Buffy from both Giles and the Council and once more nearly tore the book to shreds.

It became quickly apparent from the various passages that Giles never informed the Council about Buffy's pregnancy or about his return from hell. Why, Angel had no idea and the former Watcher didn't mention any details.

The Council however, did eventually discover that Giles had continued to research and translate the prophecy regarding the child on his own. They vehemently objected to his "meddling and interference with what is strictly a Council matter for investigation" in one tea stained letter.

Following what appeared to be Giles' lack of cooperation, they sent several Council members to Sunnydale to straighten out the wayward Watcher, which, combined with his behavior on Buffy's 18^th birthday, had led to his being fired.

The new watcher, Wesley Wyndham Price, had been informed about the prophecy and had also informed the Council of "Angelus' return".  Angel was surprised somewhat that Wes had never mentioned anything about it to him, but then he had no reason to suspect that the curse had been changed so perhaps he also believed that keeping them apart to prevent the conception of a child was no longer an issue.

Several pages later, was one final entry. Giles had written that his personal concerns for Buffy had begun to affect his objectivity in doing his duty and that he disagreed with many of the Council's principals regarding their treatment of Slayers. As such, he was actually pleased to be relieved from his duty as Buffy's Watcher, although he expressed dismay that he would not be able to change things for future Slayers. In a final note, he added that he was concluding this journal and turning over any administrative details to Buffy's new watcher.

Reading the journal had helped clear up a few things: he knew that it was possible that he and Buffy could have children, so he was almost positive that she was indeed pregnant. Prophecies weren't always certain; Buffy proved them false more times that not, so their babe might or might not be the "child of great power" that was predicted.

Angel stared at the book, wondering what he should do with it. Buffy should be given the chance to read all of this for herself, of that he had no doubt. He knew too, that Giles was anxiously looking for it.  Why hadn't the Watcher turned it over to Wesley or to the Council as he had all of the other journals?  Ultimately, it mattered less what Giles wanted; he'd give the book to Buffy and let her decide what she wanted to do with it.

Suddenly reminded of the page number that was listed earlier near the translation of the prophecy, Angel flipped forward through most of the remaining blank pages until he was near the end of the book.  There, neatly printed, he found the complete translation of the prophecy.  It had taken Giles several years, evidenced by the dates, but ultimately the former Watcher had persevered and completed the translation on his own.

Curious and with no small sense of trepidation, Angel began to read. When he finished, he thoughtfully closed the book and put it down.  

In the dimly lit room, he smiled.

Standing in the middle of the bedroom, wrapped in her new pale green cashmere robe with her hair still damp from a quick shower, Buffy indecisively contemplated what to wear. On one hand, it was early in the afternoon but on the other, she doubted that they were going out anytime soon. She could hear Angel moving around in the kitchen and within minutes the smell of coffee wafted up the stairs. Buffy smiled.

The sound of Angel's phone ringing drew her attention. Turning, she crossed the room and retrieved it from his coat pocket. After a brief hesitation, she shrugged and answered, "Angel's phone."  

Buffy listened as the girl hesitantly introduced herself then asked to speak to Angel.

"Good morning, sunshine."  Angel looked up and smiled when Buffy entered the kitchen. His dark gaze slowly traveled down her slim figure before returning to her sparkling green eyes.

"You mean afternoon, don't you?" Buffy returned his smile and looked at him in an intimate, assessing way. The black robe he wore accentuated his tall, lean body and the stark beauty of his features.

"Okay, afternoon. Still, I was planning on making you breakfast in bed." He murmured softly as she stopped in front of him. "And maybe keeping you there for awhile."

"Mmmm. sounds nice."  Buffy ran one hand up the smooth material covering his chest to his neck as she tilted her head back and lifted her lips for a kiss. The clean scent of him filled her nostrils as his hands settled on the soft material at her waist. Her small tongue was just reaching for his, her other hand lifting to his shoulder when she suddenly broke off the kiss.  She held the phone in front of her, her cheeks heating in a blush as she realized she had forgotten the reason she had come downstairs in the first place. "Ooh. Phone. Girl. Fred."

Angel took the phone from her with a small smile and ushered Buffy to the table, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as she sat down.  He greeted the caller on the phone as he poured a cup of coffee and added cream from a small pitcher on the counter, then set both on the table. 

Buffy took a sip of the hot liquid and grimaced. Reaching for the pitcher, she added more cream to the strong French roast coffee.  She watched Angel under her lashes as he talked quietly to the girl on the phone, asking only a few brief questions. After several minutes, he retrieved a small pad of paper from a nearby drawer and hastily scribbled a few notes.  After another few minutes, he thanked Fred for calling, then clicked off the phone and set it on the counter.

"Work." He apologized as he glanced over at Buffy, returning to his earlier position behind the counter where he had been chopping up mushrooms and fresh spinach for an omelette. After a brief pause, he added, "And some personal business. She had some information that I needed."

"S'okay." Buffy replied, finding simple pleasure in just watching him as he moved around the kitchen. His casual expertise was astonishing.  "Not to pry, but how did it go last night with Connor?"

"When I finally caught up to him, fine. He's having a tough time right now." Angel swept the mushrooms off the cutting board into a bowl then began shredding a small amount of Swiss cheese. He stopped for a moment and looked up,  "This whole thing with Cordelia.  well, he thought that he was in love with her and that she loved him too."

"But she was using him. And you." Buffy said with disgust, shaking her head slightly. How could Cordelia have had sex with Connor in the first place?  She had been around the boy when he was an infant.  She had even changed his diapers! It was practically incestuous. And to cheat on Angel?  Buffy couldn't even comprehend it. Angel was all she ever wanted, so sweet and wonderful, so caring, not to mention a magnificent lover. How could Cordelia not have simply basked in that?  Why seek out anything else?

"Yes, she was. I don't know why - spite, maybe?"  Angel sighed ruefully. He frowned as he recalled the conversation that he had overheard between Cordelia and Nikkos yesterday. With such blatant lies, it appeared that the seer had become mentally unstable which made her that much more of a threat.

"Okay, so it's been years since I've seen her but from what I remember, Cordy always wanted . well, the nicest way I can say it is attention and a lot of it. Connor probably adored her and she loved it. I'm sure it fed some inner desire she has to be worshipped by all. Men especially."

Buffy thought back to Cordelia's treatment of Xander when they had dated; the brunette had been cruel to him at times, but still expected the teenage boy's complete devotion. He had been insecure when it came to women and dating, and had been fairly easily controlled and manipulated, something Cordy no doubt knew well. Buffy guessed that the former May queen probably had a similar relationship with Connor.

"But that's not all of it." Angel continued as he cracked eggs into a bowl with one hand and whisked them briskly. "He and I - I've told you a little of it - we didn't exactly get off on the right foot." 

"But you tried."

"Not as much as I should have." The tall vampire interjected with a touch of disappointment in his voice. "Cordelia, she- no, I can't blame her for it really.  Let's just say I haven't spent as much time getting to know my son as I should have. I'm just finding out now things that were happening right under my nose. Things I should have seen. The lies, the deceit. "  Angel trailed off, shaking his head in disgust.

"You can't blame yourself for everything that you think goes wrong." She admonished softly. She knew his sense of responsibility and his easy acceptance of guilt perhaps better than he did himself.

He poured the omelette mixture into the pan and then glanced up, his dark eyes meeting her mossy green ones. Regretfully, he murmured, "Maybe not, but I should have seen what was going on. I should have done things differently."

"Angel, I know you and I know you did what you thought was right at the time. It's all you can do." Buffy smiled slightly, a teasing glint in her eye as she added, "Except maybe you should've kicked his ass a few dozen more times that you did. Cordy's too." 

After a brief pause, Angel smiled slightly, reminded of Buffy's two meetings with his son. Connor certainly hadn't been on his best behavior either time.  And Cordelia? She was certainly right about that.

"You're probably right about that."  He agreed thoughtfully. There was no doubt that he had been too lenient with his son at times, afraid that imposing rules or any type of discipline would only drive them further apart.

"But last night - you were able to talk to him? Work things out?"  Buffy questioned, drawing his attention back to her. She frowned slightly, studying her nails.  She peeked down at her toes briefly before tucking her feet back under her.

"Yes, it's a start. He's a man now, Buffy, and I have to treat him like one instead of like a child. I know that, but sometimes I still think of him as a boy." Taking the muffins out of the oven, Angel dumped them into a cloth covered basket, which he set on the table next to Buffy before returning to the stove. "And Cordelia- well, she managed to keep us apart for so long with her lies and machinations. He thinks that it will be the same with you, that I won't have time for him because I'll always be with you or that you won't want him around."

"I'd like to get to know him. Ouch. Hot." Buffy dropped a hot muffin on the napkin in front of her, anxious to have one of the delicious smelling treats. "As long as you assure him that things with me will be *very* different. Where did you learn to make blueberry muffins anyway? These aren't from a box, I can tell." 

"I don't know. Must have picked it up somewhere." Angel smiled at her impatience.  He poured a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and set it in front of her.  "What do you mean different?"

"Well." Buffy began almost hesitantly, nibbling on the still hot muffin. "I know he was raised in a hell dimension and you said. well, you said that Cordy was his first. you know, girlfriend, relationship whatever. "

"And?" Scooping the omelette out of the pan, he sprinkled it lightly with herbs.

"Well, I just hope he doesn't think it's like. normal, you know, for your father's uh, girlfriend.to also be your . er, you know, girlfriend too. That's not.you know, normal. " The word girlfriend came out in a strangled voice, as Buffy hated to think of Cordelia as that to Angel in any way, shape or form.

"Unless maybe it's a soap opera. I think they had something like that on Passions once." Buffy chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, before she hastily added. "Not that I watch. And, uh, not that I'd be... shareable." 

Angel laughed slightly, brushing her cheek with a kiss as he sat the plate of food on the table in front of her. "He knows.  Besides, I would never share you." his voice was low as he sat down in the chair next to her. "You're mine now and I intend to keep it that way."

With a smile, Buffy leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. The kitchen was cozy, the blinds filtering the afternoon sun and casting the room in a soft warm light. The surrounding neighborhood was quiet, making it seem as if they were alone in the world.  Settling back in her chair her gaze lingering on his face, her heart swelled with happiness. He was utterly exquisite, tall, powerful, more beautiful than any other man she had ever seen. Not to mention so very sweet and kind and caring.  He was perfection. In every way, she reflected with a smile, recalling his amazing sexual expertise and the rapturous pleasure he so easily bestowed on her.  Why can't the world disappear, she thought briefly, and we could just stay here forever?

"Buffy?"

Lost in her reverie, she shook her head slightly when he said her name and brushed a hair from her cheek.

"Oh, sorry. Daydreaming.  I can't eat all this." She smiled at him apologetically and sat forward, looking down at all the food he had placed in front of her: the omelette, a bowl of strawberries topped with a small mountain of whipped cream, a basket of muffins and fresh squeezed orange juice.

"Just eat what you like." He smiled indulgently. Lounging back in his chair, his gaze once more drifted over her appreciatively, taking in the slender curves outlined by the soft cashmere. He had personal business to take care of tonight, but until then. he had all afternoon to make love to her.

"It all looks yummy." She murmured in appreciation, indecisive about which to try first.

"Eat. You'll need your energy."  He prompted at her continued hesitation.

His deep, husky voice and the small wicked smile playing on his lips sent a flutter of swirling heat through her belly.

"Really?  For what?" Buffy inquired with a grin, another small shiver of pleasure coursing through her. If possible, it seemed that the more often they made love the more she wanted him. It was as if her carnal urges were on high since they had come to LA. "Are we going somewhere? Doing a little training maybe?"  

"No and no." Angel smoothly replied, watching the rapid pulse beat under the fine skin of her throat, remembering how it felt to kiss the smooth skin, how delicious she tasted.  "I thought I would test your Slayer stamina."

"But you aren't eating?" She questioned with a coquettish smile, her eyes glowing with interest. "How will you keep up?"

"I had something while you were in the shower."  Leaning forward, he lifted a strawberry from the bowl and dipped it in the whipped cream. Holding the ripe berry to her lips, he smiled that same wicked, smirking smile. It was part playful, but wholly carnal. "And I plan to eat when you're done."

Buffy drew in a sharp breath, a licentious surge rippling through her at the suggestive entendre. His dark eyes were rich with promise as he gazed at her with a lazy impudence.

"Now open your mouth for me."

Her eyes held his as she took the strawberry from his fingers into her mouth. She did so with such languor his erection surged powerfully, forcing him to resist the impulse to simply push the dishes aside and take her on the table. Instead, he tampered back the sensation and fed her another strawberry before sitting back in his chair.

Buffy smiled as she swallowed the ripe fruit, then picked up her fork and attacked the omelette with gusto. She closed her eyes and murmured a soft sigh of appreciation as the luscious blend of flavors melted together on her tongue.

For the next few minutes, she ate with a quiet intensity, absorbed in the food and the act of eating. It made him consider again the idea that she had been so rarely pampered in her life. He doubted if she had had more than a few any gourmet meals, if any. She had probably never been treated to a day of pure indulgence with all those things that most women loved: massages, manicures, pedicures and other stuff that he could only imagine.

"Angel." She began hesitantly, her fork poised halfway to her lips with another bite of food.

"Yes, love?"

"Well, you do realize that- well, that for some reason we can- that is, I can-" She paused and reorganized her thoughts, releasing a soft exhalation of breath. Lord, this was awkward. More so than she had expected. But it was a conversation that they needed to have. She sat her fork down and clenched her hands together in her lap. "You and I- we can- I can get pregnant. At least I think I can."   

Angel leaned forward slowly, his muscles tightening nervously. His expression was shuttered. Did she know somehow that the topic had been on his mind just this morning? Or did she already know or suspect something herself?

"Um, well, I think it's kind of that time of the month." She continued in a rush, unnerved by his silence and calm gaze. "Well, not *that* time, but the other time with the hormone fluctuation and the ovulation thing and well, you and I can. you know, make babies. I mean, we can if we don't do anything to, you know, not."

"Do you want a baby?" He asked quietly, his gaze intense.

Buffy stared up at his face. Yes, she wanted his child desperately, but she didn't know how he felt about it. They hadn't talked about babies at all, other than one conversion years ago when he told her that he couldn't and the few recent conversations they had had about Connor. Would she scare him if she said yes, now, please give me a baby?

Angel had never been aware of such quiet as the silence that filled the room as he waited for her response. His spine was rigid, his nerves on end.

Twenty seconds passed in hushed silence before Buffy spoke, her luminous green eyes lit with emotion.

"Yes." She answered honestly, unable to lie with his dark eyes staring down at her so intently. It was something she had dreamed of for years, but had long ago given up hope of having.

In a sudden flurry of nerves, she added, "But we don't have to have a baby right away. We could always just practice first. You know, get the baby making part down. Then, someday, when you want - *if* you want - we could. you know someday." She stopped, biting her lower lip nervously. Was she rushing things? After all, they hadn't been back together that long. Should she mention that she picked up condoms yesterday, just in case? Oh god, and would he even know what they were?  It wasn't like they had them when he had to worry about things like that . right?

He paused for only a heartbeat before his lips curved upward in a smile. Lifting her hand, he gently kissed it. "Sure, sweetheart, we *could* practice." Leaning forward, he brushed the corner of her mouth with a delicate butterfly kiss.

"But you know what I think?" He murmured softly against her lips, "I think we're already perfect."

"You're sure?" She breathed moments later when his mouth finally lifted from hers. Her heart was racing, a nervous excitement tightening her stomach.

"About a baby with you?" He inquired, smiling faintly.

"Yes." Her eyes sparkled happily as she leaned further forward and twined her arms around his neck.

"I suppose I can resign myself to the idea." His dark eyes were teasing until she drew back her arm and socked him firmly in the solar plexus. Pulling her back to him, his expression serious, he lightly touched her cheek.  "It would be a dream come true, sweetheart. But are *you* sure?"

"Oh, yes." She replied with a small sigh as she leaned forward for yet another kiss.

"It might not happen right away." Buffy said as she sat back and picked up her muffin, extracting a blueberry and popping it into her mouth. It was a small deference to getting her hopes up only to have them dashed if things didn't go as planned. Which, in a Buffy life, was always a consideration.

"Or it might." He cheerfully replied. He didn't want to unnerve her with the degree to which he could sense changes in her hormones, nor did he want to disappoint her if his suspicions turned out to be wrong. He broke off a piece of her muffin and held it to her lips.

Between sweet smiles, teasing banter and playful kisses Buffy finished the rest of her breakfast, Angel feeding her tidbits occasionally to prompt her when she deliberately stalled.

"Mmm. that was delicious," she purred, as he leaned forward to kiss a small bit of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth. She lured his tongue into her mouth with her own as she lifted a hand to his cheek, drawing him closer. When his mouth lifted after a time and drifted down the silken column of her throat, she sighed in pleasure.

"You taste sweet." he quietly murmured. "Now let me see how you look.." Leaning forward, Angel untied her robe and eased it open. As he suspected earlier, she was nude beneath the soft fabric.

"Beautiful." Cupping her breasts in her hand he squeezed gently, gazing at their plump full beauty and rosy firm peaks. He tugged gently on her nipples, watching the crests elongate and harden. Leaning forward he licked a path around one taut peak before taking it between his teeth. At the infinitesimal pressure of his teeth closing over the tip, Buffy's breath caught and her hands lifted to sink into the thick mass of his hair.

"Mmm. tastes good." Angel murmured against the silken skin of her breast just before his mouth closed over the tip and he sucked with hard, exquisite pressure. 

"Feels good." Buffy breathed, the depths of her eyes lit with green flames. Her breath caught in her throat as the pleasure spiked through her senses as he nibbled, sucked and tugged on the taut peaks of her nipples in a leisurely fashion, moving from one breast to the other then back again as if he had all the time in the world.

"Angel, please, I can't wait." Buffy whispered softly, clenching her legs together against the ravenous throbbing ache that was steadily increasing to a panting urgency. It was as if she had an addiction to his touch.

"Yes, you can." He murmured, his voice low and husky as he cupped her breasts in his palms and lifted them slightly before biting her nipples with nibbling bites.  Each time his teeth closed firmly on a taut peak, Buffy felt an answering throb between her legs. She was quivering slightly, hovering on the brink of orgasm when Angel finally lifted his head.

"Ready to come for me, baby?" He murmured softly, his fingers moving teasingly over one thrusting nipple.

Buffy drew in a sharp breath at the licentious words and the delicate touch of his cool fingertip on the highly sensitized tip. She had to swallow before she could answer.

"Now, Angel." She demanded in a throaty whisper, her back arching and her hands firmly tugging his hair to draw his mouth back to the hard, wet tip.

Only seconds after he drew the hard peak between his lips, her orgasm flared in a flashing burst of sensation. When the trembling flurries subsided, Angel lifted his head and gave her a lazy impudent smile.

Leaving her breathless in her chair, he calmly stacked the dishes and cleared the table, setting it all on the counter near the sink.

"My turn."  He whispered, lifting her from her chair with effortless strength and arranging her on the table in front of him. He pushed the robe off her shoulders to fall to the table behind her, and then parted her legs with a slow glide of his palms up her thighs.

"Angel!" Buffy laughed softly, a flush of heat coloring her cheeks at such a blatantly sexual display in the kitchen. This outdid any of her imaginings she had last night about their use of the table.

"How luscious you are, sweetheart."  His fingers reached the apex of her thighs, stroking over her damp and swollen flesh with compelling pressure. His touch was delicate, his competence like so many of his other skills, expert. 

Buffy fairly purred under the delectable pleasure of his touch, leaning back to lie on the table in shameless abandon. Her eyes closed and her fingers clenched in the soft material of her robe beneath her.

"Mmm. so wet for me."  He murmured softly, his middle finger trailing along the wet cleft delicately.

Buffy arched her back and lifted her hips as he slid two long fingers inside her. A soft breathy moan escaped her lips.

"How does that feel?"  Angel asked softly, his fingers working their magic on her. He pushed his fingers higher, stretching her. His thumb pressed on the sensitive nub of her clitoris, massaging delicately.

"Mmm. so perfect." She purred softly, her hips rocking to meet the gentle thrust of his fingers. "So good."

"Look at me, love."

Almost trembling with sexual longing she slowly opened her eyes, their green gaze darker with the depth of her passion.

"I want to taste you, Buffy. Do you want me to? Do you want me to lick your wet, sweet pussy?"

His voice was velvet soft, the words wildly arousing.  Buffy nodded, her tight channel clenching around his fingers as if he had tripped another sensual trigger. She was already slippery wet with desire.

"Say yes." He commanded softly, reaching for her hand. Raising it to his lips, he nibbled and sucked on each finger in turn. "Tell me what you want."

"Yes. Please. lick me." She murmured softly, wanting what he wanted. She was powerless against the sheer degree of lust he so easily evoked within her. She writhed on the table, arching her back and wanting more.

"Hurry." She added in an urgent heated whisper.

Hooking the chair with his foot he pulled it forward and sat down. Releasing her hand, he guided it to the pulsing wet cleft between her legs.

"I don't think so." he whispered, bending her legs and settling them over his shoulders. "Tá tú go h-álainn," he whispered, telling her of her beauty as he moved her hand gently over the sensitized flesh. "Now, show me where you want me to touch you. To lick you."

A soft needy whimper escaped her lips and the liquid warmth flooded between her legs as his words coursed down through her body like molten heat.

"Here?" he asked softly, sliding her small hand over the wet swollen flesh, bending her fingers to slip slightly between the wet folds. He eased her fingers further inside her. "Or here?" 

She whimpered, the sound barely audible over her hushed breathing, as she firmly rubbed the taut sensitive nub of her clit of her own accord.

"Angel." She protested softly when he lifted her hand away, lapping at the liquid evidence of her desire before releasing her fingers.

Bending his head he licked a slow path along the tender swollen flesh of her labia up to her clitoris.

"Do you like it?" he inquired, stopping to press his cheek against the warmth of her thigh.

"Mmmm." she sighed languorously on reply, stretching her arms over her head. Bending one leg, she braced her foot on his shoulder, opening herself wider for him.

"More?"  He smiled at her casual sensual repose on their table.

"Yes." She purred, a hint of command in her voice as her hips lifted.

"I have to say, sweetheart, you're so wet." With his fingers, her parted her plump folds and stroked her clit, rubbing it generously with the slick fluid of her desire while she quivered beneath his hand. "Very wet. If I'm going to lick this up, it may take awhile."

She didn't answer, seeming not to hear him, too absorbed in the dizzying sensations, the pulsing unfulfilled ache growing in the pit of her belly. She whined softly and moved again, lifting her hips and attempting to entice him to hurry.

"Now hold still." He quietly murmured, placing a hand on her hip and lowering his head once more.

"If there's anything you don't like," he looked up at her then, his eyes angelic as a choirboy's, his mouth quirked into a grin, "let me know."

A scant few minutes later, her panting cries rippled through the small room as he licked, nibbled and sucked at her wet and swollen flesh. He was playful and indulgent, his attention to detail unparalleled and extremely gratifying. His tongue was inside her the first time she came, lapping at the release of her honeyed fluids.

Without allowing her respite, the light deft pressure of his tongue sent exquisite vibrations, hot, deep throbbing pulsations upward and outward in blissful waves.

With a whimper, Buffy moved against his mouth, half hungry, half inundated in bliss. Her hands tangled in his hair as she drew him closer. The molten pleasure flooded her senses, crawling along her spine in a self-centered, all consuming ache.

Taking the taut nub of her clit between his lips he sucked, gently at first then rougher. Seconds later, she came with releasing a high, breathy scream that echoed through the room.  Even before the last orgasmic ripples died away, his tongue swept over her again and she felt the flooding pleasure begin anew.

Angel took great care to please her, using the finesse of mouth and hands and tongue that he possessed as a man supremely proficient at oral sex. No, more than that. He was a virtuoso after over two hundred years of experience. And under Darla's experienced tutelage, he'd certainly learned flawless techniques for provoking sensation.

He didn't stop until she had come more times than she could count, the dizzying sensations blending one into the other until she collapsed back on the table nearly insensate. Skittish to the touch, unsure if her senses could take further stimulation, she simply lay there basking in the delicious pleasure.

She heard the scrape of the chair on the floor, as Angel stood.  When she opened her eyes to look at him, he was smiling down at her with a smug expression.

"Kiss me." She murmured, holding out her arms for him. Despite the contentment humming through her senses, her need for him was like a living flame. Like a glutton, she wanted to fill her senses with him, feel him over her, around her, inside her. And she wanted his baby. 

"And later." She murmured softly as he discarded his robe and climbed over her, his hard length sliding inside her in one smooth stroke. "We can pick out baby names."

Eventually, the amorous exploits in the kitchen were abandoned for the more comfortable milieu of their own bed as the afternoon turned into a sexual marathon. It was a day of discovery and indulgence, excitement and urgency. Sweetly virginal at times for them both, all hot haste and enthusiasm at other times - until shortly before dusk when Angel collapsed next to Buffy on the bed.

Sated and replete, Buffy initially teased him about his diligence in starting their family. He only gave her a cheeky grin in reply before forcing himself up to shower.

When she realized that he was planning on going out alone, she strenuously objected, insisting that she could help. He tugged her into the shower with him and under the heated spray of the water persuaded her with cryptic phrases and whispered love words that it was just some business that he needed to handle personally. His promise was something personal and wholly carnal.  He was most convincing.

Angel stopped just inside the gates of Evergreen Memorial Park and looked around at the dark mist-covered cemetery shrouded in silence. The orange glow of the city lights behind him cast shadows along the wall as a mangy calico cat prowled through the grass in search of prey.

After several minutes of contemplation, Angel stepped forward. Only a sliver of the moon shone in the deep blue sky, casting a faint silvery light through the gloom as he moved carefully through the graves and tombstones toward the back of the cemetery.

With keen preternatural eyesight, he scanned the various stones and plaques until suddenly he stopped. He stared at the tiny grave for long minutes. In the distance, the steady hum of traffic from the freeway could be heard.

Slowly, Angel knelt down and reverently brushed his fingertips over the simple stone plaque marking the tiny grave. The name Liam Angelus Summers was engraved in the gray stone just below a small Celtic knotwork design cross. Beneath the cross in neatly scripted letters the stone read:

Liam Angelus Summers
My Angel
Beloved father and son, both left this world too soon.
Neither will ever leave my heart.

Angel closed his eyes as he placed the white camellia stems that he carried on his son's grave.

Making only a meager salary as a waitress in a dingy diner, he knew that Buffy would barely have made enough money to support herself and yet somehow she had managed to bury their baby in a proper grave. He could only guess, but he suspected that it look her several years to earn enough money to pay for it. His heart ached for her, for what she had been forced to endure alone.

Opening his eyes, he once again brushed his hand over the cool stone. 

She had named their son after him.

He had told her that his name had been Liam before he had been turned. The conversation had been so brief that he was surprised she had remembered. In fact, Xander had interrupted them with news of vampires outside the Bronze so Buffy hadn't even replied to him and they never got back to the conversation. Angelus, he suspected, she had used because it was often referred to as the proper name for him in the Watcher's Journals.

Liam Angelus. My Angel.

Angel sighed. When she buried their son, she had buried him as well, thinking that she had killed him. He knew that she never thought he would return. 

Grief rose up within him, filling him. Tears filled his eyes.

Kneeling over the baby's small grave, Angel wept.

It was just before midnight when Angel entered the hotel, his need for vengeance now forceful and urgent. He took the stairs to his room two at a time and stripped off his wrinkled silk shirt just after he crossed the threshold of his bedroom. Still dressed in the black leather pants, he pulled on an equally dark, thick sweater that molded to his body snugly giving him freedom of movement without encumbrance. He exchanged his shoes for a pair of heavy, steel-toed boots. His face was dark, his expression foreboding as he went about the everyday ritual of dressing with calm deliberation.

He hadn't allowed himself to think about the Shaqti demons until just a few hours ago; his mind preoccupied with his thoughts of Buffy and now his coming child, his grief for the loss of the son he never knew and his hesitant hopes for the future. Only now, searching through the shelves for the specific book that he needed did he allow his thirst for the death of the demons responsible for such horrible atrocities to surface. Yanking the book off the shelf with a small mental shout of triumph, he flipped it open with rapid searching fingers as he rushed down the stairs. When he found the information that he sought, he slammed the book down on the counter and closed his eyes. He said a small prayer of thanks to any god that would listen that Buffy had survived, mentally and physically.

The information on the Shaqti was graphic and brutal. The demons preyed on pregnant women, attacking them and feeding on the unborn child. All too often it appeared as a terrible rape or a botched abortion; rarely did the mother survive. Those few that did tended to withdraw into themselves and live in a catatonic state, unable to cope with the terror of such an attack. Because of the Shaqti's dwarfish stature and freakish appearance, those few mothers who attempted to tell the truth about their attackers were rarely believed.

With calm deliberation he laid maps of LA out on his desk, scrutinizing them carefully for the most likely location for the thieving demons that had been long thought to be myth; he had to strike quickly and hard or they would retaliate in ways too horrible to contemplate.  With a thick black pen, he decisively circled two likely locations on the map, one just east of the neighborhood where he knew that Buffy had been living when she had been in LA.

He was rummaging through the weapons closet when the lobby door swung open. He stopped briefly and glanced in the direction of the door before returning to his task.

Connor came through the door first, followed by Gunn.

"Got your call." Gunn stated, glancing first at Angel then at the counter. The vampire had left only a brief message on Gunn's cell, asking for he and Connor to meet him at the Hyperion.

Several weapons were laid out on the counter next to a map and a small stack of Angel's papers, including the sketches he had done weeks ago of Buffy.

"Uh, did you find Cordelia?" Connor asked with wide eyes, watching as Angel tested the sharpness of a sword blade with his fingertips. His father's actions and mood certainly seemed to point to trouble ahead for some one or some thing.

With a single shake of his head, Angel glanced at Connor and continued to search through the various weapons as if looking for something in particular.

With a bemused expression on his face, Gunn walked over to the counter. He perused the map and the weapons for a minute before asking, "So you said there was something we could help you with?"  He had no problem hunting down the seer if Angel was so inclined. No doubt he'd sleep better at night if she was dead or locked away, damn certain.

"Yes." Angel replied simply, tossing a rather large and deadly axe in Gunn's direction.

"So what are we hunting?" Gunn asked almost cheerfully, swinging the axe and testing the weight of it in his hand.

"Shaqti." Angel's voice seemed distant, his thoughts elsewhere. He turned to face his friend and his son, holding a lethal looking doubled edged saber in his hand. The razor-sharp metal blade glinted in the light as Angel slowly rotated it in his hand.

"Shaqti?" Gunn glanced up, unfamiliar with that particular type of demon.

Angel nodded, pointing to the demonology book that was open on the counter, Glanvil's 1682 book, De Praestigiis Daemonum.  There were two sketches of the Shaqti demons along with a detailed description.

"Damn, these suckers are ugly with a capital ug."  Gunn studied the picture for a few minutes and read what little he understood of the Latin, a vague memory stirring at the image. Years ago. he had seen a pack of them, he was certain. Almost absently his eyes drifted over to the picture of Buffy that sat next to the book along with a small stack of other papers. His eyes widened in recognition.

"That's it! That's where I've seen." Abruptly the young man stopped talking, his head snapping around to look at his friend.  He shuddered with understanding and horror. At the questioning look from both Angel and Connor, Gunn finished reluctantly. "Your girl."

Angel stopped where he stood, utterly still, his eyes trained on the man across from him.

Gunn swallowed, wiped a hand across his brow and hesitantly continued in a hoarse whisper. "But I thought her name was Anne."

"You saw her?"  The icy rage underlying the question wasn't meant for him, but it still gave Gunn pause, as did the flashes of gold appearing in Angel's eyes along with the low growl that seemed to emanate from the vampire.

Gunn nodded slowly, somewhat uncertain how to respond, "She'd been attacked. It was vicious, man, just brutal. Me and Eddie . we took her to the hospital but . I think by then . it was too late to save her baby."

Taking another deep breath, he continued, "We scared away the pack of cretins that attacked her, but they were fast. Real fast. Too fast. It was chase them or save the girl. We went with save the girl." 

Angel forced an unneeded breath through his lungs, yet his eyes were distinctly amber as the demon within him raged, snarling and howling with unleashed pain and anger, although not for the first time since he'd heard about the loss of his child.

"It was definitely one of these things." Gunn pointed at the picture in the book, "They're mean and they're fast."

"Not anymore." Angel replied with a dangerous chill in his voice, his lips curving into a grim smile as he glanced once more at the blade in his hand. "Now they're going to be extinct."

"Count me in."  Connor added, stepping forward bravely despite the tremor that passed over him at the rarely seen feral look on his father's face.  He wanted to help, he wanted to prove himself worthy of his father's trust. And if nothing else, his fighting skills were well honed. He knew he could be an asset.

Nodding, Angel tossed first a crossbow then a curved scimitar to his son. "Here's what I need you to do."

The first location that they checked out proved to be abandoned, but some evidence existed that the smelly cavern had been occupied within the last year.  Angel's second guess had been eerily accurate; they found the demons in a dank hovel within a block of his scrawled circle on the map.  Only two blocks away from where Buffy was attacked and three and half blocks away from where she had lived. He snorted with disgust that he had not come across the demons before, especially given all the years that he had been hunting demons in LA.

In the cover of darkness, they scouted the location. There were no windows and only two solid doors, so they could only guess how many of the demons might be inside. Quietly Connor and Gunn moved into position, blocking the back exit as Angel prepared to enter through the front. A low hum of conversation could be heard through the thick door, the Shaqti talking amongst themselves unaware of the danger lurking just outside their door.

For a small space of time, Angel simply stood at the scarred wooden door. Shutting his eyes briefly, he tested his grip on the sword. As he opened his eyes, his features shifted to that of his demonic visage. His need for personal vengeance against the Shaqti burned inside him with primitive ferocity.

Kicking the door open so hard that it broke free from the hinges and crashed into the room, Angel burst through the door. The Shaqti immediately leapt to their feet. When they realized that they were under attack, they moved quickly to their defense. The sheer number of them appeared as a dark mass in the crowded room as they swarmed around him like a pack of wild animals.  At the sound of the melee, Connor and Gunn joined in the attack from the back door, taking down several demons that had attempted to flee past them.

Swinging his sword with a vengeance, his concentration on the battle at hand, Angel was unmindful of the few blows the demons managed to land in retaliation for his attack.  At that moment, he was hell bent on only one thing: the annihilation of the Shaqti.

Shaken by the suddenness of the attack in their own lair, the Shaqti gradually crumbled under the onslaught of Angel's rage combined with Connor's deft skill and Gunn's determination. 

"Why are you here?! Why have you done this? We do not harm you or your kind." One of the last remaining and larger Shaqti roared, his chest heaving from his exertions, his breathing rough, a sheen of sweat covering his thick gray skin. The bodies of his fallen comrades lay strewn around him. He spat in disgust, even as he stood in front of the vampire without a single trace of visible fear.

"You killed my son." A savage light shone in his eyes as Angel advanced toward the demon, watchful, wary. He guessed that this was the leader of the vile creatures from the crude markings that adorned his body. Around one beefy wrist, in a gruesome display, was a tiny blue baby bracelet. Obviously a trophy from a kill, something some young mother had no doubt been carrying.

The Shaqti's mouth twitched in a monstrous grimace and he laughed, the sound loud and rasping in the low ceiling chamber. "Very amusing but you, dead thing, you cannot have children." 

From the corner of his eye, Angel saw the arrow coming toward him just before Gunn took out the creature firing the bow by burying his axe in the demon's spine. Grabbing the arrow before it reached his chest, Angel angrily tossed it aside.

In the momentary distraction, the squat, burly demon lunged at the vampire with a sudden maniacal burst of speed, catching him off guard and knocking him to the floor. Angel managed to roll before the demon's knife slid into his chest, the blade instead sinking up to the hilt in his side, between his ribs and still dangerously close to the heart. Viciously, the demon twisted the blade.

"Tell that . to my . son." Gritting his teeth against the pain as the demon continued to rotate the deeply embedded blade, Angel lashed out with his fist. He caught the demon in the jaw, knocking him several feet backward on his ass. "He's right .behind you."

"Hi. That would be me."  Connor quipped as he planted a foot firmly in the middle of the demon's back forcing him to lean forward over his legs.

The Shaqti's head jerked around in surprise. He was just in time to see the arc of the sharp scimitar swing toward his neck. The blade sliced through the demon's thick skin and his spine, severing his head cleanly from his shoulders.

Connor kicked the squat body out of the way and reached down, extending his hand to his father.

"Thanks." Angel grimaced as he rose to his feet, the wound in his side aching painfully. His other minor cuts and bruises would heal in a day or two if he fed, the knife wound the only one that would take a bit longer. With a low hiss he pulled the blade from his side. It clattered to the ground as he dropped it distastefully.

"Any time." Connor grinned. Almost as an afterthought, he punted the demon's head into the corner with a smooth perfectly timed kick.

Angel's room at the Hyperion at the moment looked something like an emergency room: gauze, bandages, tape were strewn on the bed, along with tubes of ointment and bottles of antic-bacterial disinfectants. A garbage bag with ruined clothes sat near the door.

Connor sat in a tired heap on the floor, his back against the bed. The purplish bump on his forehead appeared larger now than it had been when they had first arrived back at the Hyperion, even though the bleeding had stopped. He had gotten away with only a few bumps and bruises, most of them on his legs and lower back.

"Shit, short demons are the worst. They can inflict damage too close to the family jewels." Gunn said, hissing slightly as he dowsed the cut high on his thigh with hydrogen peroxide and began to bandage it carefully.  He sat on the bed wearing only his boxers, having just returned from his own room where he had showered and retrieved clean clothing.

Angel smiled faintly as he came out of the bathroom, his hair still damp from the shower. He pulled a clean pair of pants on over the boxers he wore, not wanting to return to Buffy bloody and battered from the evening's activities.

He was filled with an almost unseemly pleasure at the carnage that he had wrought tonight with his own hands. There was no doubt in his mind that the Shaqti deserved it. They deserved to die for a thousand more reasons than his. Yet, the shameful joy was so akin to his demon's relishing of death and destruction that he wondered briefly if he had lost a bit of his conscience. If he had a conscience  - not a surety after so many years of fighting, of existing solely as a demon and still to have the demon in residence - it was a soothing balm to know that he had done the right thing. Buffy would be safe from them, as would any and all other pregnant women that might have wandered too close to the lair of such vile creatures.

"I still can't believe you charged in that pit of depraved filth alone." Gunn continued with a small shake of his head, examining the other bruises and bumps on his legs from the clubs that the squat demons had wielded. "You musta taken out a third of 'em before we even got the door open."

"I had to." Angel replied quietly, twisting and trying to see the wound on his side. He groaned softly as the gash stretched and tore when he attempted to rotate his torso further. "I had to do it for Buffy."

Connor rose gracefully to his feet and knocked his father's hands away. Reaching for the bottle of antiseptic on the bed, along with tape and gauze, he began tending to the angry wound. "And for yourself."

"Yes." Angel replied after a moment, dropping his arm when Connor finished taping the bandage on. "And for Liam."

"Liam? He would have been my brother then? Your son - with Buffy?" The young brown-eyed man asked quietly, crossing the room to pick up the mug of blood that he had warmed while Angel was in the shower.

"Yes." He gravely declared, his eyes flicking to Connor's face as he took the mug from his hand. His thoughts drifted to his coming child. He had not yet thought of the babe as a brother or sister for Connor. Smiling faintly, he took a sip of the warmed liquid.

"I'm sorry, man. I had no idea." Gunn replied quietly, standing and tugging on a pair of khaki cargo pants now that his thigh was bandaged. With quick efficiency, he tossed the bandages and other medical paraphernalia back into the container that sat near the bed.

"Thanks." Angel acknowledged softly. Noting the time, he quickly finished the mug of blood and rinsed the cup in the bathroom. Pushing aside his exhaustion and rapidly crossing the room, he stopped in front of the closet. "Thanks. You guys should get back to the hotel. Fred will be worried."  Yanking a shirt out of the closet he tugged it on, leaving it unbuttoned while he stuffed a few items clothing into a bag.

Gunn nodded, tossing the wrappers from the bandages and other debris from their medical treatment into the garbage. "Catch you later then?"

"Yeah." Angel replied with a brisk nod, following them out the door.

With less than an hour to spare before the harsh light of dawn would be creeping across the horizon, Angel silently entered the house. A few minutes later, he stood utterly still at the foot of the bed, captivated by the mesmerizing sight.  It still didn't seem real at times - that she was here with him, that they were together again after all these years.

Buffy lay sprawled almost diagonally across the bed, the covers twisted around her tiny body. One arm was extended over her head; the other was draped over the book in her lap. Her long blonde hair streamed out over the pillow, the golden mane richer in the glow of the bedside lamplight.

Angel undressed quietly, his gaze drifting back to her repeatedly. When he sat next to her, the bed dipped slightly from his weight and she stirred. Her eyelids fluttered briefly before closing again as he lifted the book from her lap and sat it on the night table. His brows lifted slightly at the title, "The Laughing Corpse; an Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Novel".  He switched off the lamp leaving the room shadowed in darkness.

Turning back to her, he ran his finger lightly along the creamy smooth skin of her arm.

"You're back. How did it go?" she murmured softly, her eyes still closed.

"Did you miss me?" He whispered instead. He'd tell her later about the demons.

"Mm. I missed you. And your kisses. And your sexy body." She replied with a smile, rolling and stretching her arms upward to twine around his neck. Her lashes fluttered and her eyes opened slowly. "You missed my surprise."

"I see that." He traced the top of the silky green chemise with his finger. Leaning over, he gently kissed her lips before sliding under the covers beside her.

"You're too far away." She whispered, scooting closer and burying her nose in the center of his chest. Her hands moved slowly from his neck to his shoulders then down the firm muscles of his arms. She could feel his tiredness in the relaxed droop of his body even as his arms went around her, drawing her close.

His eyes closed.

"You're hurt." Buffy cried softly in alarm, her hand encountering the bandage on his side.

"It's nothing." He murmured, the words almost unintelligible as he drifted off to sleep. He was able to relax with her as he never did anywhere else with anyone else. She was his solace and his sanctuary.

"Uh-huh. Feels like something." Her fingers moved over him lightly, searching with her hands what she couldn't see in the darkness under the covers. Finding no other bandaged wounds, she carefully tightened her arms around him.

She watched him sleep for a while, touching his face gently every so often to soothe him or herself, tucking the covers around him when he moved. She offered a small prayer of gratitude for his safe return, knowing that it wouldn't be the first time or the last time. The dangers facing them on any given day were unknown and immeasurable; it was all part of the job. They had to have faith and trust in each other's abilities to deal with those threats. Anything else was simply not an option.

Regardless of her brief disquietude, her happiness was beyond measure. He was beside her. They would hopefully be having a child soon. She snuggled against him and finally drifted off to sleep.

It was late in the morning when Buffy awoke. Angel still slept beside her, his large frame still and quiet. As she eased her body from his, he mumbled in unintelligible protest but did not wake up.

With a small smile, she quietly exchanged her green chemise for a pair of navy blue sweats and a baby blue hooded sweatshirt. Carefully she extracted the keys to this car from his pocket and crept down the stairs.

Almost an hour later, Buffy carried a tray into the bedroom and sat it on the table next to the bed. She studied him quietly for a moment. It didn't seem real at times - that she was here with him, that they were together again. 

He came awake before her lips touched his, his eyes opening slowly as his lips curved into a smile. She kissed him softly, before turning to pick up the tray.

"Breakfast in bed. My treat." She declared, climbing on the bed and perching next to him, cross-legged, the tray on her lap.

"Starbucks?" Angel questioned teasingly, noting the white cup with the green logo label next to the a similar sized plastic cup. A blueberry muffin leftover from yesterday sat next to the two cups.

"Chai latte for me. Type O from the local blood bank for you." Buffy replied, picking up the insulated vente size coffee mug decorated with Christmas trees that she had picked up during her visit to the local coffee house. She held it out for him.

With his injury she wanted him to have more blood than just a small cup, and the extra-tall insulated mug would keep the blood warmer - at least in theory. Besides, they were half off in the after Christmas sale.

"You were exhausted last night and injured. Humor me." She prodded until he took the cup from her hand and began to drink.

He finished the warm liquid and set the cup aside, his energy and health already largely restored after feeding and a few hours of sleep. Lying back against the pillows, he watched Buffy as she ate, quickly polishing off the muffin and most of her Chai.

With a teasing smile, she brushed off her hands and set the tray aside. Sweeping up the green chemise where she had left it on the chair earlier, she went into the bathroom. He could hear the water running as she filled the tub.

"Now, a soak in a hot tub." She announced, crooking her finger and gesturing for him. She was once more clad in the tiny green silk, the color perfectly complimentary to her creamy skin and hazel green eyes.

With an amused grin, Angel got out of bed and followed her into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and then waited patiently as she made him stand before her nude so that she could inspect his bruises and cuts, carefully removing the bandage from his now healing side. She frowned at the deep puncture and shot him a look that said he wouldn't get out of providing her with an explanation then gestured for him to step into the tub.

He sank into the hot scented water with a sigh, watching as Buffy flitted around the bathroom gathering a few items before returning to sit on the edge of the tub.

"That's very pretty, sweetheart, but it's going to get wet." His body was already responding to the sight of her body so delectably displayed in the green confection.  With an amused glance, he caught her hand and tugged, nearly toppling her into the bath.

"Very funny." She glanced down at the tiny chemise, and shook her hand free. "This is not water washable. And it was expensive, as you'll find out when you get your credit card bill. Which, by the way, when I get paid next month I fully intend to pay you back."

"You're beautiful and it's beautiful on you. I don't care what it costs. I'm not taking your money."   Angel slid lower in the water, his mind eagerly anticipating her joining him in the large tub - either on her own or with his encouragement.

She frowned at him, "I will pay you back. I'm not just some. some freeloader."

"Buffy." he began calmly, sitting up slightly, "What does it matter, who pays for what?"

"It matters to me." Buffy flatly replied, "I know you probably don't understand but it's important to me to be self-sufficient.  When I first came back from- when I was resurrected, I couldn't make ends meet. I had to borrow money from Giles, from my friends. I worked at one crappy job after the next. I had to sell the house and most of Mom's art collection to give Dawn a college education and pay off the rest of the bills."

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment then gently touched the tips of her fingers. He genuinely regretted that he had left her alone, that he hadn't been there for her when she needed help. More than anything he wanted to make that up to her.

"You're an amazing woman, Buffy. Strong, beautiful. Incredibly competent. And you're my wi- the love of my life, the woman I adore more than anything. Everything I have I would share with you. It makes me happy to buy you things."

"Is this a get in my pants thing?"  Buffy glanced over at him, the seriousness lifting from her face. She smiled.

"Since you aren't wearing any at the moment, no."  He teasingly replied, his eyes raking over her with interest.

Watching her as she twisted her hair up and secured it on her head with a clip, he wondered if she knew the impact that the messy upswept style had on him. He was torn between wanting to remove the clip and have the golden silken mass of her hair spill into his hands and the enticing site of her bare neck, now once again marked with his bite.  He was already hard, but the physical reaction to his thoughts was immediate. Beneath the water, his erection firmed even more.

"Besides." Reaching up, he tugged her into the tub with a splash, "If I pay for it then I don't have to pay you back for all of the expensive lingerie I ruin or rip off you."

"Angel!" She gasped, startled, water sloshing over the sides of the tub. She grabbed on to him for balance, her body rubbing erotically against his in the water.

"You ruined this you know."  She glanced down with a pout at the soaked garment that clung to her curves as she pushed against his chest, her knees straddling his hips. "And I was close to getting it for free."

"I know. I'm sorry." His hands made quick work of the sodden garment, stripping it over her head. It landed with a soft plop somewhere over his head where he tossed it. "What?"

"Nothing. Five-minute rule." She rose to her knees slightly and scooted forward. "I never really tried to do this - you know - dress up, play games - with anyone else."

"Good." He grumbled, a spark of jealous anger shooting through him at the thought. His hands slid up her legs she sat down carefully on his lap, cautious to keep her knee away from his injury.

"But I wanted to impress you."  She ventured softly, her hands sliding across the slick skin of his chest and along the wide contours of his shoulders. Leaning forward, the tips of her breasts grazed his chest. She nibbled his earlobe, her voice a husky whisper. "I wanted to turn you on."

"You think I'm not?" Angel's hands circled her narrow waist and he adjusted her slightly, rubbing the hard length of his erection against her bottom. He wanted her with an addictive fervor that defied explanation. He could have her a hundred times more and it still wouldn't be enough. It was mildly unnerving for someone who had been alive as long as he had, and had never before experienced such inexplicable need. "Just being with you turns me on."

Buffy smiled and rotated her hips against him. With her eyes half-closed, she licked her lips in anticipation of their kiss and she pressed tightly against him, crushing her breasts to his chest.  She kissed him hungrily, wantonly as if she would devour him.

The water splashed as Angel lifted his hand to the back of her neck, as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss. She bit down on his lower lip gently, nibbling.

Breaking off the kiss, she lifted her head. Her green eyes, sultry and heated, held his.

"Feels hard. Big." Buffy whispered, reaching behind her and stroking the long hard length of his arousal with teasing fingers. 

Angel's head dropped back to the side of the tub and his eyes closed as her small hand closed around him, moving up and down with such deftness that he groaned softly. After a few more minutes of the tantalizing pleasure, his hands closed over her hips and he attempted to guide her down on him.

"No." She scolded gently, resisting his attempt to move her. She swatted his hand away from her hip.

"No?" He questioned softly, his eyes opening. He gazed at the intoxicatingly beautiful woman astride his lap, her hand moving on him in an enticing erotic caress and he felt another jolt of carnal urgency. His hand slipped between her legs.

"Not yet." Buffy let out a long slow exhalation of breath as his fingers glided over her wet sleek cleft, parting her gently to slip inside. She rode his fingers to the rhythm of her hand clutching his erection until the agonizing rapture threatened to overwhelm her.

Breathless and panting, she gazed up at him. She shivered with lust, her body betraying her need for him.

Angel withdrew his long fingers from her core, his dark eyes looking at her with wicked, carnal assessment as he waited for her next move.

"Did you want me to put this." She purred softly, stroked his hard length again with one hand as she moved her other hand to the golden curls between her legs, "in here?"

"Yes." A wolfish smile appeared, his hand lifting out of the water to tweak a distended nipple.

Buffy guided him into place, sinking down slowly on his engorged length. She sighed softly as he stretched her, filled her. She clenched her muscles around him and watched his face for subtle nuances of pleasure.

"You feel perfect." He whispered huskily, every nerve in his body hypersensitive. He flexed his hips upward as she moved down, the water sloshing around them.

"You feel big." She sighed very softly, her hands braced on his shoulders, her hips moving in a slow serpentine undulation that made him groan.

With ecstasy fast inundating her senses, she glided upward, stopping with just the tip of his erection still inside her.

"Now how does that feel?" She questioned softly, languidly descending down his rigid length. Leaning forward she nuzzled his throat, her fingertips toying with the short hair on the nape of his neck. 

"Tight. Wet..." He murmured, his voice velvety and low. "Hot."

"Good?" She kissed his throat as she steadily rocked her hips. Her lips moved over his wet skin with greedy ravenous bites, licking and sucking hungrily.

"Better than good, baby." He growled softly, a ferocious lust threatening to consume him.

With a smile, she forced her hips down firmly, burying him deep inside her. Her lips found the diamond hard nipples on his chest, her teeth closing over them in nipping bites.

The violent throbbing between her legs rapidly became her singular focus as she impaled herself on him. With each thrust, the tantalizing view of paradise seemed almost within reach.

"Angel?" She breathed softly, the movement of her hips slow and fluid. The water sloshed around them, spilling out on to the floor.

"Hmm?" Angel murmured in response, his eyes closed against the delicious pleasure as she impaled herself on him yet again.

"Bite." She said on a hitched breath, the tips of her nipples scraping across his chest as she leaned forward.

His eyes opened suddenly, his ravenous desire sharp set and urgent. He attempted to suppress the shameless rush of pleasure at the thought, but peaking desire overwhelmed any hesitation or doubt and his features shifted.

Buffy whimpered softly in his arms as he pulled her to him almost forcefully.

She clung to his shoulders as he sank his fangs into her neck, reaching her first shuddering climax with the painful stinging pleasure of his bite.

Her next low keening sigh of release melted into his own groan of pleasure, as he joined her in climax, the shimmering pleasure vibrating through every taut nerve.

Long moments later, her face buried in his neck, her words muffled, Buffy murmured softly, "Okay. You can buy the lingerie."

 

 

 

Part XV

 

"So, are you ever going to tell me how you got skewered last night?" Buffy asked casually as she sat down on the bed. It was just after nine in the evening, the day having been spent in the leisurely pursuit of pleasure until just a few short hours ago when they had risen from the bed. Buffy showered while Angel made dinner, then she ate her dinner while Angel showered, the two of them planning on going out shortly to check out one of Angel Investigations' most recent cases and, time permitting, patrol.

Leaning back on her hands, she watched Angel with avid interest as he dressed, her gaze moving over his tall lean form. When he chose a pair of black twill pants from the bag he had brought in last night, pulling them on over his boxers, she sighed with disappointment. No leather pants tonight.  Maybe she could hide his other pants. just every once in awhile. maybe once a week.

Angel selected a shirt from the bag and pulled it over his shoulders. After several seconds, he reluctantly replied, "Demon. Big knife."

"Any particular type of demon or are we just talking your garden variety generic demon?" She asked with a wry smile as she rose to her feet and came to stand in front of him. She began to do up the buttons on his shirt as he looked down at her with uncertainty and concern.

He had promised himself that he would be honest with her, that he would work harder to communicate with her. Still, it was another five seconds before he was able to bring himself to say the word.

"Shaqti."

Buffy froze, her eyes staring at her hands. After a brief pause, she finished the last button almost shakily.

"Oh." She exhaled softly, her eyes wide with remembered horror as her mind filled with the images of the demons that had attacked her years ago. She could almost hear their panting breath and feel their pudgy hands on her body as they swarmed around her. She closed her eyes tightly, fighting off a wave of nausea along with the urge to release a rare hysterical scream.

"Buffy?" Angel lifted his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing over the delicate cheekbone. Her silence and pale complexion heightened his own fears for her instantly, tightening his gut and twisting his heart. Maybe he should have waited to tell her. "Sweetheart?  Are you all right?"

"You- went after them?" She whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Without hesitation or delay, he replied. "Yes. For you. And for Liam." The baby's name came out as the merest whisper.

Buffy closed her eyes tightly as tears threatened. Her arm curled protectively over her stomach in an unconscious, instinctive gesture. She swallowed hard to quell the rising panic.

"I'm so sorry, love." He whispered softly as he pulled her into his arms. His hands ran up and down her back in gentle soothing strokes as she buried her face against his chest.

"I know it's too late to make a difference now. to make up for what you went through, for Liam. but I couldn't let them live." Angel's eyes flashed with pain and hatred, his words grim. He and his demon raged at the terror the demons had inflicted on his mate. His heart ached for her, for everything she had lost, for all that she had had to endure alone. "I couldn't leave any of them alive to hurt you or anyone else again. They're all gone."

"Are you sure?" She asked in a small voice, one small hand clutching his back, her face still pressed against the firm wall of his chest. In the safety of his arms the terrifying images gradually began to recede.

"Yes, I'm sure." He affirmed, kissing the top of her head gently. It occurred to him then that he should have Nikkos do a locator spell for him just to be certain.

Buffy's hands gripped his shirt tightly, but she didn't reply.

Maybe if he had taken her with him, he reflected. Maybe if she would have had a chance to face the Shaqti herself it would have helped exorcise some of the painful memories. Still, he worried about her and about anything that might cause her heart to break. Even Nikkos said that he should consider her emotionally fragile until the trust in their relationship was solidly rebuilt.

"I would have taken you with me-"

"No." Buffy interrupted, her voice muffled by his chest. It shamed her to admit it since, after all she was the Slayer, but she wasn't sure she could face the Shaqti. The memories were too vivid and horrifying. The thought alone made her sick to her stomach. If she froze up at the mere thought of them, then how could she face one?

"I-I can face a lot of things, Angel, but I don't think I could have- I wanted to. but I just don't know if." She trailed off, her voice almost apologetic. She bit her bottom lip, trembling slightly. It annoyed her, this near paralyzing fear. She was the Slayer, for Christ's sake and they were just another type of demon that she should kill, doing her duty as the Chosen One.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Buffy. Let me take care of you." He hugged her to him tightly planting a soft kiss on the crown of her head as he threaded his fingers gently through her hair. "Every once in a while at least."

Buffy squeezed her eyes tightly and held on to him. After a few minutes, she whispered quietly.  "Thank you." 

They could take care of each other.

Glancing around the kitchen and finding it empty, Angel paused for a moment before he opened the back door and went out into the yard. Following his senses, he walked around to the side of the house.

"What are you doing?" Angel smiled, bemused at the sight of Buffy standing on tiptoe and attempting to peer over the fence into the neighbor's yard. He glanced over the fence, his height allowing him a clear view, but saw nothing of interest.

"Looking for Chloe."  She replied, stepping back away from the fence and continuing around to the front of the house. 

"Chloe?"  He questioned, his eyes now rapidly scanning the dark for someone as he followed her through the gate and into the front yard.

"We should feed her before we go out." Buffy said matter-of-factly, bending slightly to look under the various shrubs that lined the house.

"Who is Chloe?" Angel inquired warily. He was not at all sure he was going to be happy with her answer.

"Our cat." She replied, her tone firm.

"Our cat?" His brows lifted. Although to be honest, he half-expected that to be her answer. Oh, a snack? The demon perked up, questioning happily.

"We can't just leave her homeless." Buffy answered turning to look up at his face briefly before continuing her walk around the front yard.

A soft meow and a body swarming around his legs alerted him to the fact that "Chloe" had just made her appearance. He tripped slightly to keep from stepping on her as she wove in and out of his legs, rubbing against him. 

At Angel's stumble, Buffy looked back over her shoulder and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I think I found the cat." He said with a shrug before she could tease him for his clumsiness.

"Oh, Chloe sweetie, there you are." Bending, the petite Slayer swept the gray fluffy cat into her arms, the loud purring of the creature beginning almost immediately. "I have your dinner for you." She started back around the house again.

"Sweet, she probably already has a home." Angel said, following behind as she sat the cat down on the back porch in front of the dish of food.

"But she was so small and skinny. if she did they weren't taking care of her." Buffy murmured softly, petting the cat one last time as she began scarfing up the bits of chicken on the plate.

"Buffy, love, you can't just take someone's pet." He chided softly, eyeing the purring gray ball of fur somewhat doubtfully.

"Okay then, I'll try to find her home - if she has one." Brushing her hands off on her jacket, she walked over to where he stood. Gripping the soft lapels of his leather jacket, she swayed against him. "If not, can we keep her? Please."  Her bottom lip stuck out slightly in a pout, her eyes under the thick veil of her lashes looking up at him pleadingly. "Please."

Angel sighed. He couldn't refuse her anything. "Fine, but I will not call that thing Chloe."

With a happy squeal Buffy rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him fully on the lips. He might say that now, but she knew he would.  Eventually.

Ten minutes later, Buffy slid into the front seat of the black Plymouth next to Angel. They were going to check into one of Angel Investigations' latest cases: a woman had reported that her husband had recently been coming home with suspicious looking marks and large credit card charges. She suspected that he was having an affair and wanted proof. Normally it wasn't the kind of case that the AI team would take, but the marks sounded enough like vampire bites that it seemed worth checking out.

As they parked just down the street from the two-story neglected building in Rancho Palos Verdes, Buffy thought back to Riley and his experimentation with vampire bites that had started just before he left Sunnydale. Her instincts told her that they would find something similar here.

"So I'm thinking that if this really is the big suck fest that we think it is, then it would make sense for me to go in and pretend I'm a wannabe customer. I can scope it out, see how many vamps we're looking at and then we can commence with the staking." Slipping a stake up her sleeve, Buffy climbed out of the car. She tucked another stake in the waistband of her skirt, hiding it under her jacket.

"Buffy, that won't work-" Angel began, only to groan as Buffy yanked open the door to the building and walked determinedly through it. With preternatural speed he followed her, grabbing her hand just as she stepped through the second set of doors and into a meticulously decorated lobby. A fountain gurgled to one side of the posh lobby next to a leather sofa. On the other side, heavy velvet curtains cordoned off the small room from the rest of the building.

"Angel, someone is going to see you. And why won't-" Buffy scolded in a quiet whisper, her words stopping abruptly when a beautiful platinum blonde stepped through the curtains.

"Angelus?" 

They both looked toward the sound of the voice. The woman approaching them was a slender platinum blonde, a Marilyn Monroe likeness in appearance. The black dress she wore clung to her voluptuous form, her breasts nearly spilling out of the low cut neckline. With each step, the entire length of her leg was teasingly revealed by the high slit that ran from her feet up to her hip.

"It is you!" The woman said with a touch of awe, her eyes moving over the tall vampire eagerly, almost worshipfully. She glanced at Buffy dismissively and reached out to run her hand down Angel's arm. "I've heard so much about you. I never expected to see you here." She moved closer, touching each button on his shirt with her fingertips.

The blonde continued her enamored gushing and adoration of Angelus in a high breathy voice, her hands flitting over him with an eagerness Buffy found incredibly irritating. Her eyes narrowed at the nerve of the woman - no, correction, vampire - that dared to touch her Angel so intimately. He was hers. The Slayer shifted forward even as Angel stepped back, retreating from the woman's continued petting. Apparently Angelus was something of a celebrity in the vampire community or at least he had one very adoring fan.

With her hand held firmly in his, Angel could feel Buffy's anger rising as Sophie, as she finally introduced herself, flirtatiously suggested that they step inside and get better acquainted. With a dazzling smile directed at Angel, the blonde vampire turned and led them through the velvet curtain. Buffy attempted to shake her hand free to slide her stake out of her sleeve, but Angel held on tightly. They would have to play out the charade now.

There were a dozen or so men and women in the lushly appointed room, several of them entwined on the soft, overlarge sofas, while others reclined at low tables on stacks of pillows scattered on the Turkish carpet. One couple actually appeared to be having sex on a small divan in the corner, the female vampire's fangs buried in the man's arm as she moved over him.

On a low dais, a beautiful Asian woman swayed gracefully in a provocative, sensual dance. Her eyes lit on the two newcomers to the room and widened slightly in surprise. She shifted her stance slightly, her eyes now trained on the tall dark haired vampire that had entered the room, as if she now danced only for him. Her hips beneath the turquoise Chinese silk moved in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, the dance intended to arouse, to primitively and seductively provoke the animal instinct.

When the music ended less than a minute later, a tall and handsome blonde man stepped out of the shadows along the wall, clapping loudly. Unlike most of the other men in the room, this one was also a vampire.

"Mei Ling, gentlemen." He announced to the room as he reached up to take the hand of the Asian woman, helping her gracefully step down.

A round of applause sounded, several men coming to their feet and immediately surrounding the incongruous pair: he was tall, blonde and golden, almost Nordic in appearance, she was petite, dark, exotic. Ignoring the men petitioning for her attention and excusing herself from the man holding her hand, Mei Ling made her way straight to where Buffy and Angel now stood.

"Darling." The exotic beauty cooed, her deep red lips curving into a lush, intimate smile directed at Angel. Immediately, as if Buffy didn't exist, she pushed between them and pressed herself against the tall vampire familiarly.  "It's been years and years. In fact, I don't think I've. seen you since Macao." Her words were filled with suggestive innuendo, her eyes and hands roving over his chest and shoulders eagerly.

As if Sophie's continued fawning adoration and increasingly unsubtle suggestions hadn't been enough of an aggravation, now she had the obvious familiarity of the incredibly beautiful and exotic woman pawing her mate. Buffy jerked her hand free from Angel's grasp, her gaze an icy glare as she whirled around. Regardless of the six or so other vampires in the room, she prepared to draw her stake. Enough was enough.

Realizing her intent, Angel abruptly shook off the two clinging women with some excuse that Buffy didn't even hear in her current state of rage. His arm circled her tightly and he walked the two of them across the room. He stopped when they reached the wall, just next to a long bar. The two men seated at the bar, glanced at them curiously through bleary eyes.

With a pout and look of disappointment followed by a hostile scowl at Buffy, Sophie turned on her heel and flounced out of the room. Mei Ling watched them thoughtfully for a moment before crossing the room to join the blonde vampire where he talked to two men seated in lounge chairs against the wall.

Angel took Buffy's hand and lifted it to his lips and his arm encircled her waist. Her silence warned him that it was going to take more than a little diplomacy to soothe her temper.

"You could have warned me." She hissed through clenched teeth, attempting to pull her hand from his grasp. "So, what, are we in a vampire whorehouse?"

"If you would have waited for one minute I would have. And yes, that's a close enough description." Leaning down, Angel whispered in her ear.

"Yes? Yes?! Then just how do they know *you*?" Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned away from him, glancing up tempestuously.

"It's not what you think." He answered brusquely, shooting a glare over Buffy's shoulder until the man at the bar openly staring at them picked up his drink and moved away.

"And what do you think that I think?" Her eyes blazed with anger and no small amount of jealousy.

With a lift of his eyebrow, Angel inched closer. Their hips were almost touching, his tall form looming over her. "You're adorable when you're angry." He teased, hoping to defuse her fury. While he had expected to find vampires inside the run down building, he had not expected to know any of them personally, nor them to recognize him. Now cognizant of the eyes upon them, watching them closely, he ran his hand up her arm to her neck possessively.

"That's not an answer." She murmured in a harsh whisper, even as a faint tingling sensation flared at his touch.

"It's true." Shifting closer, he gave her a smug, intimate smile. His fingers continued to caress her neck, lazily circling his mark.

"I do not like that Mei Ling person, er vampire. She can just meet Mr. Pointy."  Buffy murmured spitefully, as the woman in question crossed her line of vision to the right of Angel's arm.

"Just ignore her." Threading his fingers through her hair, he tugged her head back slightly and leaned down to brush her jaw with a kiss.

"You apparently didn't ignore her, Angelus." She sardonically muttered, recalling the woman's earlier mention of some cozy and no doubt sexual interlude years ago.

"I didn't know you then. That was over 140 years ago." He murmured softly, looking down at her face.

"Darla didn't mind sharing?" Buffy muttered acerbically, her eyes scrutinizing the room and counting the vampires. "Five women, the blonde guy, the bartender and Sophie, who left the room. Rest of them, human."

"No." Angel's mind flashed back to a dim memory of a threesome with Darla and Mei Ling. His demon had never been one to say no to the company of beautiful women, and they had spent considerable time together traveling through Asia.

"Well, I do." Buffy fiercely declared, her eyes narrowing as she glanced over his shoulder once again in the direction of the woman in question. Mei Ling was now looking at them interestedly.  "I don't share."

"I don't either." He leaned forward and kissed the bite mark on her neck, sending shudders down her spine. It was an incongruous statement perhaps, from a man that had uncaringly shared all the women in his life without regard, that is, until Buffy. 

"Every vampire in here knows you're marked, sweet. Marked as my mate." He nipped at her with blunt teeth, a low possessive growl sounding in his chest and Buffy felt goose bumps rise on her arms and shoulders. His hand once more tugged her head back, the tone of his voice proprietary. "And even if they chose to ignore that, they can smell my scent on you. All over you."

Buffy looked up at him with half closed eyes as the familiar heat snaked through her body. Even in a room filled with danger, a half a dozen or so vampires behind them and who knew how many in the rooms above, she felt the tingling swirl of desire move through her body. She should have realized that the other vampires would have known those things, but she honestly hadn't stopped to think about it. She'd done her job as the Slayer for too many years without such things as her scent or the scar on her neck even being a consideration.

Her breath hitched, knowing that Angel was aware of her sparking desire, that he could sense her arousal by her body heat, her scent. His hips pressed to hers again and she rocked her hips slightly to rub her belly against the growing ridge of his erection.

"Then why don't those whor-" She began somewhat breathlessly, her hands reaching up to grip his arms.

"Darling, I'm so sorry to interrupt." Mei Ling's voice sounded next to them, breaking into their conversation. Despite her words, her tone was far from apologetic. "Surely you can spare a few minutes for an old friend? A walk down memory lane?"

"Wait." Whispering softly in her ear, Angel released Buffy and turned to the vampire now standing next to them.

Buffy knew as well as Angel that it could be foolhardy to simply begin staking the vamps in the room, even though they could easily take the relatively small number that were present. They needed to know how many more might be upstairs, and they hopefully, would find Joshua Murray, the reason they had taken the case in the first place.

Allowing the Asian beauty to take him by the arm, he walked across the room with her. He could casually ask her what they needed to know and then he and Buffy could do their job and get out.

With a disgusted sigh, Buffy sat down at the bar. Annoyed as hell, she drummed her fingers on the smooth lacquered finish of the bar. The bartender, another vamp, smiled at her hesitantly and poured a glass of Jack Daniels. He sat it in front of her and returned to the other end of the bar. When the trilling laugh of Mei Ling sounded behind her, Buffy, in a fit of pique, reached for the glass and gulped the amber liquid down in one shot. She gasped at the stinging burn of the alcohol, unused to the potent liquor. She refused to turn around. The last thing she wanted was to see the woman draped intimately over her Angel.

"Hello there."

Buffy glanced over disinterestedly as the tall blonde vampire sat down next to her. He was the same man that had helped the bitch-in-heat down from the dais earlier after her dance.  He introduced himself as Lucas, the "proprietor" of "this fine establishment". He straightforwardly admitted that he was a surprised to see Angelus there, and no, he didn't know him personally, but knew *of* him from various sources.

Lucas didn't say as much, but he was very surprised that Angelus had taken a mate - and a human one at that. Still, he assumed that since the two of them were there that older vampire intended to share - which, on closer inspection of the tiny blonde, he was more than happy at the prospect. She would undeniably be a woman with strong sexual appetites if she were indeed servicing the Scourge of Europe; particularly if everything he had heard about that legendary vampire were true. It certainly wasn't the first time a couple had come in to his little operation seeking to add some sexual adventure to their lives.

"Let me entertain you for awhile, darling. Just like old times." Mei Ling purred suggestively, glancing over Angel's shoulder. She smiled. "There's absolutely no need to worry about your little miss. She'll be well taken care of."

Angel swung around abruptly to look at the man now talking to Buffy.

"I'm sure she'll like Lucas. He's quite remarkable in bed, although a bit rough. If I remember, correctly, he doesn't have your finesse with um. certain things." Pressing her breasts against his arm, she reached up to touch Angel's face, his hair. "If she can take you on darling, then I'm sure she'll be able to handle him."

"I don't think so." His voice was flat, curt. He jerked away from her wandering hands and the woman pouted slightly.

Finally daring to look at her lover where he stood across the room with Mei Ling, Buffy gritted her teeth. The woman was trying to wrap herself around him like a vine. With her mossy green eyes glittering angrily, she turned back to Lucas and smiled up at him prettily.

Angel pressed his lips together, his temper barely leashed as the man touched Buffy on the arm. A burst of fierce jealousy ate at his self-control.

"She's adorable, darling. Feisty." Mei Ling purred, her dark exotic eyes lingering on the Buffy. She writhed against his side in primitive rhythm. "And human. I'll bet she tastes delicious."

Once more Buffy looked across the room. Her gaze found and held Angel's for a moment before she returned her attention to Lucas.

Angel pulled away from Mei Ling, done with the charade. The Asian beauty had been forthcoming with only small bits of information, hardly enough to continue his discussion with her or to leave Buffy to be pawed by that insolent whelp.

Mei Ling grabbed his arm tightly, forcing Angel to turn back and face her. A thrill coursed through her; she preferred violence with passion. His hostility excited her beyond measure. "Perhaps you would like to beat me tonight? Release some of that delightful anger and frustration?"

"That's a thought." Angel replied absently, turning his gaze back to watch Lucas lean over to whisper something in Buffy's ear. The man's blonde hair was too close to Buffy's own golden mane, his smile too intimate. Angel flexed his fingers to ease his tension, his anger steadily building.

"Come with me now, darling. I have a nice room upstairs that I know you'll like."  Her tongue ran provocatively over her painted red lips, her dark eyes almost pleading, "I was wet the moment I saw you."

He could feel the swell of her breasts once more pressing against his arm, her hips against his thigh. Still, his gaze had not left the man touching his mate with the hand that he would no longer be allowed to keep.

"No." Angel replied bluntly, glancing down at the woman still gripping his arm tightly.

"You're jealous? Of her?" Mei Ling questioned with surprise. In all her experience, she had never known Angelus to care about exclusivity. His concerns had been his own pleasure and convenience; outside of that, he seemed disinterested in what other activities Darla or Druscilla pursued. "That's so unlike you, darling. And a human mate." The dark silk curtain of her hair shook and she moved her head, "It's incomprehensible, really."

Without replying, Angel turned back and started in the direction of the bar. Only now, Buffy and Lucas had disappeared completely from the spot where they had sat. A sudden burst of panic assailed him. Concentrating for a moment, he bolted for the stairs.

Angel kicked open the door of the bedroom on the right just in time to see Buffy drive her stake in to the vampire's chest. Behind him, Mei Ling shrieked. She clutched at Angel's arm as if for protection.

Dusting her hands off, Buffy turned to face the couple at the door.

"Can you believe that creep?" The petite blonde Slayer shook her head. "He actually thought that I would have sex with him. And that he could bite me. Honestly."

Buffy smiled tightly at Angel before her gaze shifted to the woman still clinging to his arm.   With an exaggerated swing in her hips, she stalked toward them, a graceful beautiful predator.

A door in the hall opened behind them, a shirtless man peering out to check out the commotion. Three pairs of eyes swung around to face him.  Buffy and Angel recognized him immediately: it was the man in the picture for the case file, Joshua Murray. Sure enough, they had found him. Frightened, the man slammed the door.

Turning back, Buffy gave Mei Ling a brief look of warning as she growled, "Hands. Off. My. Boyfriend."  Raising her stake she drove it into the female vampire's heart, watching with satisfaction as the exotic beauty turned to dust.

With his own angry growl, Angel slammed the door closed behind him. The ashes of the recently staked vampire swirled in the breeze kicked up by the motion of the door. Neither occupant of the room noticed or cared.

"Angel?" Buffy questioned softly as he advanced toward her. She could feel his anger and it gave her a momentary pause. He rarely, if ever, turned his anger on her.

He continued forward and she retreated until her back was against the far wall.

"You shouldn't have left with him." He ground out as he surveyed her through narrowed eyes. Placing his palms on the wall on either side of her head, he leaned forward pinning her against the wall with his weight.

"Was Mei Ling not entertaining enough, darling?" She mimicked the endearment, her mossy green eyes stormy and turbulent. "Maybe you could have found Sophie. I'm sure she would have joined you for a threesome. It would have been just like old times."

"Why would I want that?" He whispered hotly, his mouth coming down on hers with a ravenous hunger. His head lifted moments later and one of his hands reached around her to cup her behind, dragging her against him with barely restrained violence. "When I can have your hot sweet little body?"

"Maybe you can't."  She replied heatedly, even as her body flooded with the liquid warmth of desire.

"You're forgetting something, love..." He whispered softly, perceptively.  Assured, confident, he assessed her, his dark eyes filled with lust.  "I can smell your wet pussy a mile away."

A wave of purely carnal heat infused her senses along with a small panic and she struggled slightly against his solid weight.

"Are you hot for me, love, or just any-"

Buffy's hand lashed out to slap him and he grabbed it mid-air, his reflexes on par with hers.

With a wrenching twist he yanked her forward and tumbled her to the bed. In a primitive lust fueled by rage, jealousy and a primordial need for possession, he crawled over her. His temper revealed by the flashing golden eyes, he murmured with steely softness against her ear, "You're mine."  Pushing her skirt up to her waist roughly and forcing his knee between her legs, he settled between her thighs. His hips pressed hard against hers.

Buffy whimpered softly as he moved between her spread legs, the hard rigid length of him triggering a thousand pleasurable memories. Like bolts of lightning, an answering heat flared in her body with wild, rapacious jolts.

 "And I don't share."  With a shameless smile, he reached under her skirt and tore her panties from her, tossing them carelessly aside.

"I don't either." Buffy snapped, gasping, as his full weight settled on her. Reaching up, she wrenched his shirt open. Somewhere nearby a button landed on the floor with a soft ping and rolled away. She ran one palm down his chest firmly, her nails curled and digging into his skin.

Their eyes met - her mossy green eyes insolent, his rich chocolate ones intractable, restive.

She was the first to move, her hands descending to his belt. One hand began to unclasp the buckle while the other moved lower to squeeze the bulge of his erection.

"I'm going to fuck you. Hard." He murmured softly, his gold eyes belying the subdued tone. His hand traced an ungentle path along her thigh, moving steadily closer to the damp apex at the top. When his fingers slid between her legs, Buffy moaned softly.

She was shamelessly wet and so ready for him that Angel felt his erection surge powerfully in response. Her hips lifted to meet him as he unbuttoned his pants in a seeming blur of motion.

"Mine." He whispered, his voice low and intense as he slid into her with one smooth hard stroke. His lower body moved in a powerful punishing rhythm. "Now. Forever."

With her breath coming in soft pants near his ear, Buffy tremblingly replied, "Yours. Always yours."  She clung to him tightly, her nails digging into his back underneath his shirt.

His hands reached under her bottom, lifting her to meet each thrust and securing her for each stroke as he plunged down.

"Only mine." He growled, tightening his grip as he thrust harder, deeper.  He drove into her again and again in a restless agitated rhythm.

Wrapping her legs around his lower back, Buffy clutched at him, urging him deeper.  She crooned his name softly, along with almost incoherent words of agreement as she writhed under him wildly. She was no longer grounded in reality, her need for him melting away into the explosive ecstasy that washed over her in a sudden burst of sensation.

As her body rippled around him in tiny heated convulsions, Angel felt the same approaching wild passion. His fevered lust was coupled with a need to possess her that was so violent that he shuddered, his fangs lengthening and his features changing. His fingers bit into the tender flesh of her behind as he moved harder, his lower body slamming into her with increasing force.

"Love you." He growled, his face lowering to her neck. Impatiently, he shoved her top down to reveal the upper curve of her breast. Nuzzling the lace cup of her bra down, he roughly licked at the taut peak of her nipple. His fangs pierced the soft, rounded mound as he released into her welcoming body with savage ejaculatory thrusts.

Buffy cried out softly at the stinging pain in her breast, but felt another explosive orgasm overtake her. Her arms and legs were locked around him, clinging to him with wild abandon.

As the dizzying sensations subsided, Angel felt a sickly remorse overcome him at his rough handling of her. He lapped at the new puncture wounds on her breast gently, apologetically.

"I love you." He lifted his head, looking down at her face. Her hair was in wild disarray on the bed, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen from his kisses.

"I love you." She breathed, her lips searching for his. Her eyes were still closed as she absorbed the last trembling vibrations.

It didn't matter where they were, that they had come together in frustration, jealousy and anger. It only mattered that they were together.

"We. should." She murmured quietly, bliss numbing her senses. She stroked his back, feeling chagrined at the nail marks she could feel that she had made in his skin.  Vamps.downstairs."

"In a minute." Angel murmured, resting his forehead on the bed next to her ear.

When a degree of consciousness returned and they summoned enough energy to move again, Angel slowly withdrew from her. He brushed a kiss on her lips and sat next to her, slowly buttoning the few remaining buttons on his shirt.

"Buffy, I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't even." Buffy stopped him with a soft kiss. She blushed slightly, not meeting his eyes and she tugged her top up and smoothed her skirt down. "I like it, you know, when you."

"When what, sweetheart?" His head came up abruptly and he looked at her where she now stood next to the bed. When she didn't reply immediately, he tugged her hand to pull her forward to stand between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against her stomach.

"Tell me."

"I like it when you're like that. You know.take charge growly aggressive guy." Her words were playful, but her cheeks were pink. She rested her hands on his shoulders as she looked down at him.

He pulled back slightly to look up at her, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Do you?"

"Yes." Buffy replied softly, her fingers toying with his hair.

"That's nice to know."  He stood and kissed her, relieved and more than a little thrilled by her admission. He quickly tucked in his shirt and fastened his pants.

Buffy retrieved her stake and they walked to the door, Angel's hand lingering on her behind as they crept out into the hallway.

Inside his head, Angelus was cheering, That's me, that's me. Take charge growly aggressive guy.   

You wish. Angel smugly replied to his demon before turning his attention back to the job at hand.

Together they made short work of the vampires that still lingered in the run down building, officially closing it down and sending the humans that had come for the addictive, dangerous thrill of a vampire bite, home. Officially it was considered as another case closed.

The limo driver watched disinterestedly from the curb as the couple kissed again at the door.  He was getting a healthy sum paid in advance, so he didn't mind the delay as the couple continued what was now going on almost fifteen minutes of groping. It was an easy few hours of work for nearly triple the money: take the woman to a spa in Santa Monica and then pick her up again eight hours later and bring her back. That some P.I. firm was picking up the tab was mildly interesting, but Tony had ceased being impressed or curious long ago.  Half a lifetime driving the rich and famous around Los Angeles tended to do that to a person.

He pushed away from the car and opened the door when the little blonde came down the walk, turning to wave at the man still in the shadows of the doorway. She smiled happily as she climbed into the car and Tony found himself almost smiling back, her mood infectious.

Wanting to give Buffy a treat, Angel had made arrangements at the Aqua Day Spa in Santa Monica. He had presented the indulgence as an early birthday present so that she'd accept it without hesitation, knowing after their conversation yesterday that she would be reluctant to accept such an expensive gift otherwise.  She'd been beyond excited about the surprise, however, which pleased him in more ways than one. Her enthusiastic acceptance had been met with his own and in mutual, unrestricted giving they had made the morning memorable. And, no doubt left a stain on the couch.

After the limo disappeared around the corner, Angel returned to the bedroom. He fished the small scrap of paper containing a phone number out of his pocket and retrieved his phone.

Returning to the kitchen as he dialed, he sat down at the table, listening to the static on the line before the phone on the other end began to ring.

Surprisingly, Giles himself answered on the second ring.

Angel greeted the former Watcher politely and asked about his health. After a few minutes of exchanging pleasantries, he switched the topic to the reason for his call.

"I have the Journal that you were looking for. I believe Connor, my son, stole it from your hotel room - it's a long and rather sordid story that has more to do with trying to get back at me than anything else. I-"

"Well, that's rather a good bit of news." Giles interrupted, voicing his pleasure that the volume had been recovered. He seemed unperturbed at Angel's explanation of how he got it, only relieved that it had been found.

"I read it. All of it." Angel stated bluntly, his voice without apology.

The former Watcher's raspy breathing was the only sound on the line for several moments. Finally, on a deep inhalation of breath, he spoke, "Well then, you must understand why I was bringing it to you."

"To me?" The vampire's brows lifted slightly in surprise. He turned the Journal over in front of him on the table.

"Yes, to you. Dare say I presume that eventually you will give it to Buffy?"  Giles replied weakly, his illness wearing him down. "She should know, don't you think?"

"Why didn't you just turn it in to the Council or to Wesley, like all the others?"

"I should have. I know that. Quite honestly, though, I was angry when I was relived from my duty as Buffy's watcher. I was frustrated and infuriated with the Council's stance over certain issues, as you've no doubt read if you have, indeed, read the entire volume. The more time that passed, the more I felt that there were too many things in that Journal that need not be shared with the Council or really with anyone for that matter."

"Why?" Angel asked curiously, somewhat surprised at the former Watcher's answers.

Giles coughed loudly, the sound muffled as he covered the phone. After several agonizing minutes, he wheezed and spoke into the phone again. "The council had become such a stodgy group of pompous asses with predilections and rules that had nothing to do with anything even remotely modern or current. They had simply never evolved. Power in the hands of those that had no idea how to wield it. it was something I could quite honestly no longer respect."

Angel nodded slightly in agreement, but said nothing.

"Despite the many wrong things that I've done in my life, the many irrevocable mistakes that I've made, I do love Buffy. I love her as a daughter that I never had." Giles continued at Angel's silence, "Knowing the Council as I did and fearing their irrational behavior, I could never turn that journal over to them."

"Is there a Council now? Did they reform?" Angel asked warily, needing to know if they would be a threat to either Buffy or their coming child.

"No, nor has there been one for several years. Oh, of course there have been several aborted attempts to start one. In one of the more ridiculous notions I can say I've heard, Spike even attempted to reform it at one time." Giles chuckled weakly and reached for his nearby glass of water laced with laudanum.

"Spike?" Angel questioned, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "We are talking about Captain Peroxide, here? Bleached blonde? Vampire?"

"Yes, one and the same." Giles took a sip of water then continued speaking, "I suppose it was because he felt so noble now, what with his soul and all, not to mention knowledgeable in the years that he spent helping, or at least not hindering, Buffy. Needless to say, there was limited support for such a thing from those that would have needed to do so."

"That's understandable." Angel didn't have a problem with Spike if he wanted to fight evil along with the rest of them. Of course, he preferred that the bleached blonde vampire do it in some remote part of the world far, far away from Los Angeles.

"You know, I must say, even with his soul, he showed almost no signs of remorse for the things he had done. His ability to disassociate himself from his demon's crimes was, well, rather remarkable."

Angel said nothing. The burden of those his demon had killed weighed on him heavily and likely always would. Often he wished it was as simple as saying that having a soul erased the past, that he could just point a finger and blame the demon for it all. But a soul wasn't a free pass to excuse past crimes as far as he was concerned. If anything, it was only that much more of a reason to seek to make amends. Redemption, should it ever come to pass, was a worthwhile quest.

"Where is he now?" The vampire asked with bored indifference.

"Oh, you haven't heard? It's a rather unusual story actually." Giles chuckled, which turned into a cough. "The story was circulated so widely here that I was sure the news traveled back to the States."

"No. What happened?" Angel asked curiously, his attention wandering as a faint mewing sound was coming from the backdoor.

"After Spike failed in his attempt to form a new Watcher's Council, he tried to get back together with Druscilla. She, however, would have nothing to do with him, saying instead that she would prefer even the lowest Chaos demon to him. Spike then decided that his calling was that of an entrepreneur, so he attempted to start a line of Buffy-bot sex dolls."

"Buffy-bot?" Angel questioned with a growl, his brows drawing together in a scowl. The demon snarled loudly in his head.

"Yes, robots that looked like Buffy but actually wanted to have sex with Spike. Or, whomsoever the purchaser was."

Ignoring the vampire's repeated snarling growls, Giles continued his story, "To start his new business, he borrowed heavily from some wealthy vampire out of Sicily. However, he didn't have a clue how to manufacture these robots and after a rather pathetic attempt to build a model, he gave up and instead pissed the money away on alcohol, women and kitten poker games."

Angel snorted. Figures, the demon muttered dryly.  The vampire opened the back door cautiously as the continued raspy meows grew louder.

"Say, is that a cat I hear?"  The former Watcher questioned, the sound heard clearly over the phone.

"Yes." Angel replied almost grudgingly as he watched the gray ball of fur circle his feet.

"Oh." Giles muttered softly. Cats typically were not friendly with vampires, the latter having more of an affinity with dogs or wolves, which usually meant that cats were wary and distrustful of them. Dismissing the unusual phenomena, he continued speaking, "He showed up at my door one day out of the blue, drunk and crying. The Cat Protection League had confiscated his kittens, and he was deeply in debt, not only to the Sicilian vampires that he had borrowed from but also to several others that he'd been cheating in poker. He begged me to hide him for a day or two until he could get out of town - which I reluctantly did. After all, he had been a help at one time. Not to mention, in the state that he was in I doubt that either I or Olivia could have gotten rid of him."

Angel sat down at the table only to have the cat immediately jump up into his lap. She circled around twice then curled up in a contented ball.

On the phone, Giles kept talking, "He drank heavily the entire time he was here, confessing all of this along with several other rather sordid tales about the various and sundry ways he went about to earn a pound. Some of it rather disgusting, I must say. One evening, he went on endlessly about Buffy, how cold she was to him when he last saw her, how she would never love him. Apparently she had been somewhat resigned to a relationship with him, but in a rare show of pride he left instead."

Giles cleared his throat uncomfortably, debating if he should mention the other startling revelation that the bleached blonde vampire had revealed to him. "He, ah, well, he also mentioned that he had once attempted to, um, well, force her to ah, have sex with him."

"What?" Angel questioned sharply, his body tensing. The startled cat in his lap looked up at him, her claws gripping his leg. Muttering, he glanced down at the gray ball of fur and adjusted her slightly to release her claws, "Chloe, damn it. No claws."

Clearing his throat once again, Giles reiterated, "Spike said that he had attempted to rape Buffy. This was several years back, I suppose. He said he wanted to prove to her that he loved her and that she loved him. I believe she stopped him and shortly after he fled to Africa where he ended up with a soul. If I understood his drunken mumblings, which is in and of itself questionable, he did not actually go for his soul per se but that's what he got. He didn't say exactly what he expected or wanted. I can only imagine."

Angel growled harshly and the cat jumped down from his lap, turning to stare at him with wide eyes. The demon was snarling loudly in his head, the sound growing loudly. Spikey has to die, slowly and painfully. First, I crush his testicles.

"Where. is. he?"  The vampire bit out sharply as Angelus continued reciting a litany of tortures for his grandchilde.

"He and Harmony had reconciled and were living in a run down flat in London. He was writing his dreadful poetry again and reading it at those coffee houses when he met with, what I guess you could say was a terrible accident."

"Accident?"

Giles laughed, the sound turning to a sputtering cough. "Oddly enough, yes. As the story goes, he had just finished an off-key rendition of Rhinestone Cowboy. He was a regular at this particular karaoke bar, there at least once a week. He was on a western kick and would show up in rather flamboyant western wear, decorated with rhinestones and sequins and the like."

"Harmony, apparently tired of his philandering and his constant bragging about what he seemed to consider the good old days before he had his soul, tipped off the Sicilian vamps as to his whereabouts. They, of course, found him and beat him quite badly. They left him on the roof of the building stripped naked with his feet encased in concrete. A waitress at the karaoke club that apparently had a soft spot for him, saw the red satin rhinestone shirt he had been wearing waving from the rooftop like some beacon, so she found him and helped him to escape."

Angel resisted the urge to smile at the image the words created in his mind.

"If I understand correctly, he was throwing quite a temper tantrum about the whole thing back at his flat. He threw one of Harmony's ceramic garden gnomes at her but missed and it sailed through a black painted window, shattering it to bits. The sun apparently fried him instantaneously. This was only six months or so ago. Not long really."

Angel did laugh at the thought that in the end it was Spike's own temper and a ceramic garden gnome that did him in. What a way for a vampire to go.  Damn, I so wanted to kick his lily-white ass too. The demon muttered petulantly.

After a moment of silence, Giles asked quietly, "I take it you read the translation of the prophecy as well then?" His weak voice was broken by a heavy sigh. 

"Yes, I read it. It's just a prophecy. It doesn't mean it's real or will happen."  Angel replied, the cat once more settling in his lap now that he had ceased growling. He glanced down at it with consternation.

"No, no. You're quite right. But, it is rather intriguing just the same." The Watcher rasped, his breathing labored. "Don't you agree?"

"Yes. It is." Angel agreed, his thoughts shifting to what he had read.

"Angel?" Giles' voice interrupted his musing. "The Journal is yours now. Do what you think is right with it.

"Thank you. And Giles? I'll give the journal to Buffy."

Angel lounged on the bed where Buffy had asked him to wait when she had returned from her trip to the spa. Casually he picked up the book that she had been reading and flipped through it, stopping on the page where one of his worn Angel Investigations business cards now marked her place. Curiously he began to read,

"How do you know what compromises my soul?  You don't have one anymore.  You traded your immortal soul for earthly eternity.  But I know that vampires can die, Jean-Claude.  What happens when you die?  Where do you go?  Do you just go poof?  No, you go to hell where you belong."

"And you think by being my human servant you will go with me?"

"I don't know and I don't want to find out."

"By fighting me, you make me appear weak.  I cannot afford that ma petite.  One way or another we must resolve this."

"Just leave me alone."

"I cannot.  You are my human servant, and you must begin to act like one."

"Don't press me on this Jean-Claude."

"Or what, will you kill me?  Could you kill me?"

I stared at his beautiful face and said, "Yes."

"I feel your desire for me, ma petite, as I desire you."

 I shrugged.  What could I say?  "It's just a little lust, Jean-Claude, nothing special."  That was a lie.  I knew it even as I said it.

"No, ma petite, I mean more to you than that."

The door to the bathroom opened and Angel guiltily dropped Buffy's book and looked up. At the sight of his seductively clad mate, his mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

Buffy crossed the room and stood at the foot of the bed in a red lace chemise, her body tantalizingly revealed by the sheer material. The low décolletage barely covered the gently rounded mounds of her breasts. Her upper chest and shoulders gleamed and sparkled in the low light of the room, lightly dusted with a shimmering powder. 

"What did you have in mind sweetheart?" Angel asked softly, a smile on his lips as his eyes focused on a supple, curving thigh teasingly revealed by the high slit in the crimson silk.

Buffy stepped around the bed to stand next to him, her rich and lustrous golden hair rich falling forward as she leaned down. The long strands caressed his arm as the rich vanilla scent of her drifted over him.

"Well, I thought first I would kiss you all over and see if I could make you come from just kisses alone." She murmured seductively, her hand pressing his chest gently to keep him on the bed when he would have rose to meet her, "Then I thought I would sit on you for a while. Do you think I could fit all that big hard cock inside me?"  She licked her lips while her eyes lingered on the erection now rising obviously beneath the black sweat pants.

Angel couldn't speak, her words affecting him as powerfully as if he had just driven deep inside her.

Her eyes shimmered with heated invitation as her gaze drifted over him. She felt pretty and feminine in the red lace, all massaged and moisturized and waxed - as Angel would soon see. It was a heady feeling, being able to bring a powerful creature such as Angel to stunned silence. Any trace of hesitation or doubt about the acceptability of the crimson lace vanished at the heated look in her vampire's eyes.

"Then I thought maybe I'd ride you until you were exhausted. Drained." Her voice was low, husky, licking over him in seductive waves. "Slayer stamina, you know."

Unable to move, mesmerized by the enchantress with the mossy green eyes, Angel swallowed hard. His arousal swelled almost painfully.

"Have you ever been tied up?" Buffy asked, an impudent gleam in her eye as she placed her knee on the bed and crawled over him. Swinging one leg over his waist, she straddled his stomach.

"Yes." Angel replied after almost ten seconds, looking at the silk scarves she held in her hand. While he wasn't necessarily adverse, he hadn't often submitted to bondage. Only once in fact, a long time ago.

Detecting the hint of reserve in his voice, she asked, "You didn't like it?" 

"Not as a rule, no." He replied, sitting up complaisantly to allow her to pull the t-shirt he wore over his head.

"But you will for me?" Her warm hands drifted over his shoulders, along his arms, caressing with long, lingering strokes. She delighted in the hard strength of his body, his size, his power. She shivered.

"I'd do anything for you." He murmured, his eyes roving over her, his hands reaching for her eagerly.

"Ooh, be careful with those words there, big boy," She teased, batting his hands away playfully. She tugged on the waistband of his sweats, pulling them from him along with his boxers as she scooted back on the bed. "I may get greedy."

Angel smiled. "Don't worry. I think I can manage."  She crawled back up his body and shoved him slightly to lie back on the bed. She drew the gold cuffs that Angelus bought out from behind the curtain, where she had hooked them on the rings earlier. They were much too small for Angel's wrists though, which is why she improvised with the scarves.

"Manage huh?" She tied a deep blue scarf around his wrist, looping into a bow. She smiled, pleased with her handiwork.

"You do realize I'll expect my turn." He grimaced at the bow, watching as she pulled his arm over his head and tied the scarf to the gold cuff tightly.

"You'll want to tie me up next?" She smiled down at him, a lascivious thrill racing down her spine at the thought. She reached for his other wrist.

"Of course," He replied as she tied the white floral print scarf around his other wrist.

"And then?" She pressed his arm to the pillow above his head, and tied the end of the scarf to the other gold cuff.

"Depends on what I'm in the mood for." He gave her a wicked smile, raking her with a smoldering gaze.

"Mmm... Promises, promises. Know what I'm in the mood for?" She leaned forward, her breasts brushing teasingly against his chest.  Adjusting the pillow under his head, she kissed him, teasing him with her lips and tongue before nipping at his bottom lip.

"I can guess." He murmured between kisses, the scent of her arousal obvious to him.

With one last kiss, she picked up the last scarf and tied it around his eyes. She moved to sit beside him on the bed, her eyes roving over him. He was fully aroused, his erection lying hard against his stomach. He lay still, patiently waiting for her next move.

"I'm wet already." She purred in a low voice. Starting with his foot, she ran her hand over his leg and up his thigh.

"Show me." He demanded, uncomfortable being submissive.

"Later." She replied dismissively, her hand teasingly brushing over his erection with the lightest touch. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?"

"Hm?" Angel arched his back slightly, seeking the elusive touch of her hand.

"I thought about it since the day I first saw you practicing Tai Chi at the mansion. Do you remember?" Her fingers trailed up his chest, caressing him with delicate feather light touches.

"Yes." How could he possibly forget? He stirred beneath her hands, waiting impatiently for each tantalizing touch of her fingers. Each time she drew near his erection, he tensed, the anticipation heightening his senses. He pulled slightly against the scarves holding his wrists and felt the silk tighten.

"Remember how you used to help me train? I'd go home so hot, so wet." Leaning down, she lapped at his chest with the wet heat of her tongue. "So frustrated."

"I know." He murmured softly as her lips found his nipple, sucking it between her teeth. He remembered the many cold showers he took those evenings after she left, the many times he had masturbated to relieve his own sexual frustration.

"I wanted you so much. I wanted to throw you to the floor."  Her lips left a warm, wet path over his chest as she kissed her way to his other tan nipple. "Mmm. then I wanted you to throw me to the floor. Rip my pants off. Have your way with me."

Angel closed his eyes, completely shutting out the scant visual sensation he had through the thin silk and dropped his head on the pillow. He'd have to remember her words next time they did a little training.

Taking his face between her hands, she kissed him. A long, slow delicious kiss that promised unforgettable delights yet to come.

Moving back down his body, Buffy continued her trail of kisses first along his neck, then down his chest to his ribs and then to his taut lean stomach. Teasing his belly button with her tongue, she smiled as he writhed beneath her lips. "Ticklish?" She questioned as he jerked away from her again.

"Maybe." He replied with a smile. He felt the bed dip slightly as she moved from his side to kneel between his legs.

His arousal jerked at the first warm breath that brushed over him, her hair falling over his groin in a silken caress. Her kisses were gentle as she traced a path up the long length of his erection first with her lips, then with her soft, wet tongue. Leisurely she explored him with her mouth, then with her hands, her fingers and lips moving over him skillfully. Her mouth was warm when she finally engulfed him, taking him deep in her mouth.

Under the blindfold, his world narrowed to the delicate warmth of her mouth and the exquisite intense sensation she was so easily provoking. The delicate scent of vanilla drifted to his nostrils along with the delicious musk of her arousal.

His size intoxicated her, his taste enticed her and she felt the heated warmth flood between her legs, a restless desire racing through her blood. When she heard him take a deep unneeded breath, she felt another surge of pleasure at the power she had in that moment. Beneath her, his hips lifted to meet her when she paused with only the crest of his erection between her lips. She smiled internally at the raspy groan that escaped his lips when she descended again to take him deep into the back of her throat.

Angel stirred restlessly on the bed, wanting to sink his hands into the silken mass of her golden hair, to cradle her head in his hands and urge her to move faster, deeper. Regardless of his wish to force the pace, she held him in thrall drawing out his pleasure by slow degrees until he erupted in her mouth with a harsh groan. Buffy swallowed his seed greedily then lapped at him with long slow licks as the vibrations of pleasure continued to hum through his body.

"Mmm. you like?" Buffy murmured softly, climbing over him to press her lips to his neck. She bit down gently. Beneath her, Angel's chest moved in a low purring vibration.

"Hmmm. very much." He replied, his voice a husky whisper. His erection stirred as she slid over his body, the red lace adding to the sensual feel of her breasts pressing against him. "Untie me."  He squirmed beneath her, the silk on his wrists tightening again.

"Not yet," she affectionately whispered, reaching up to untie the scarf from his eyes, "but you can watch now."

His eyes opened and he blinked, his smile sudden and warm.

"Are you ready?" She whispered, inching up slightly. Her question was somewhat rhetorical. She could already feel the evidence of his readiness brushing against her behind.

"Yes." He replied, his dark eyes roving over her.

Slowly she lifted the crimson silk, revealing her body to him inch by inch.

Angel felt a strangled moan in his throat at his gaze fell on her newly bare feminine flesh. He'd certainly seen it before but this was Buffy.

Buffy felt self-conscious as he continued to stare. "Um, you. don't like it? It's supposed to feel. more sensitive."

"Buffy, baby, sweet, you look incredible. I love it. I love you," he stammered, desperately searching for a control to the burning lust suddenly suffusing him. He strained against the silk, one of the scarves tearing slightly as he pulled. "Untie me and I'll show you how much."

Taking a deep breath, Buffy dropped the chemise off to the side. "For a second there I thought maybe you-"

Angel's eyes shot up to her face. "No, baby, don't even say it. You look fantastic. Come up here and I'll prove it to you."

Reassured, Buffy instead scooted back, gliding her wet cleft over the length of his arousal in languid excitement.

"Mmm. no. I think now I'll sit on you. I want to make you come again." She whispered, her eyes half closing as she reached between her legs to guide him inside her. "Would you like that?"

"Yes." Angel closed his eyes as she lowered herself over him, her tight wet heat surrounding him.

"You want to come in me?" She murmured softly as the familiar insatiable hunger for him inundated her senses. She purred softly she began to raise and lower herself over him, "Fill me up with you?"

"Over and over," Angel replied in a low husky whisper, bracing his feet and pushing up to meet her downward glide.

Buffy's panting breath was the only sound in the room as she moved on him in a steadily increasing rhythm. He had taught her well, the subtle nuances of pleasure. She knew how to move, how fast; how slow; how hard; how deep. A faint sheen of perspiration covered her body as she continued to move over him, determined to take him to the very edge of ecstasy. Her own peaking desire steadily began to climb through her body.

She wanted him to fill her, to take her, to ravish her. She could feel him swelling inside her and she arched back, bracing her hands on his thighs. The frantic rush of her breathing increased.

With a quick wrenching tug, Angel tore one hand free. Cupping the back of her head, he pulled her forward and his lips found hers in a heated, intrusive kiss. He moved beneath her, his rhythm persistent and demanding as the melting pleasure rolled through her.

When the soft whimper escaped her lips, Angel surged upward forcefully again and his climax burst forth, exploding inside her in fierce eruptions of pleasure.  Buffy clung to him as the convulsive violence surged through her body with sensations so riveting, so acute that she collapsed insensate on his chest, a small inarticulate moan escaping her lips. Her golden hair streamed over his face, along his neck. She pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder and snuggled down on his chest.

Raising his hand to brush her hair back from her face, Angel smiled. The white floral print bow was still neatly tied around his wrist.

After several long moments, Buffy lifted her head to look down at him, a mischievous grin on her face. "Mmm. so, wanna do that again?" 

The next few days were happy ones, their daylight hours spent in companionable pursuits - reading, making love, talking, just enjoying their time together. Their evenings were spent patrolling or training, and of course making love.

There was only one moment that marred their perfect happiness: when Angel asked Buffy why she hadn't told him about Spike and his attempt to rape her. Buffy replied flatly that it wasn't any of his business, that he wasn't involved in her life at the time and there was no need to dredge up ancient history. Angel strenuously objected and they argued, loudly. Of course, they made up less than two hours later - neither inclined to stay mad once the issued had been aired. Grudgingly Angel admitted that Buffy was right, that he couldn't have expected her to call him when that happened since they hadn't been in touch for months prior. For her part, Buffy said she understood his concern, but that he needed to remember that she could take care of herself. She wasn't surprised to hear that Spike had gone poof, but she did feel guilty that she wasn't upset by it.

Angel did give Buffy Giles' Journal, warning her that she might find reading some of it painful. She looked at it for a long moment before she took it from his hand, then she tucked it away in the drawer next to the bed, saying she'd read it someday, when she was ready. In all honesty, Angel was actually relieved that she decided to wait.

When Angel decided to visit Connor, Buffy insisted that he go alone. She told him that she thought that he and Connor needed a little more time together, just the two of them. Their current circumstances, while ideal from her perspective, were probably not from Connor's and she didn't think it was fair to ask him to share the little bit of time he got with his father with her. There would be time, later, for her to get to know him.

Neither of them could remember a time when they had been happier.

Angel doubled checked the dinner reservations he had made for Buffy's birthday three times, then paced anxiously around the house while Buffy dressed.

His lips curved upward in a slow smile as she descended the stairs. The short black dress accentuated her golden beauty perfectly. Her hair hung down her back, the front strands pulled away from her face and secured with the emerald dragonfly clips. The pearl necklace he had given her earlier in the day was secured around her neck.

"You look beautiful." He murmured, stepping forward to take her hand. She turned a slow circle in front of him.

"Thank you. You look pretty good yourself." She replied, her eyes sweeping over Angel in his deep navy blue perfectly tailored Calvin Klein suit. She smiled, thinking how rare it was that he wore something other than his characteristic black. Of course, he could wear just the leather pants and that would be okay too.

"Thanks." Angel opened the door for Buffy, silently thankful that Lorne had left his more flamboyant taste at home when he had called him for help in getting a new suit for the occasion.

Halfway through dinner, Angel's phone began ringing in his pocket. The first time he ignored it, switching it to vibrate, but when it continued to hum on and on he finally pulled it out of his pocket and checked the number. Excusing himself, he went to the lobby of the restaurant and took Gunn's call.

"What's up?"  Buffy looked from her food when he returned to the table, immediately aware that something was wrong.

"Connor. He's missing." Angel replied with a worried frown, taking his seat across from her.  "They haven't seen him since early this afternoon. Gunn found his cell phone in the parking lot."

"So what do you think?" She questioned with concern, setting her fork down on her plate.

Angel sighed reluctantly. He didn't want to entertain the first few thoughts that had popped into his head when he had heard that his son had seemingly disappeared.

"I don't know. I'll go and check the Hyperion. Maybe he went back there." 

"We'll go." Buffy amended, reaching over the table for his hand. "Don't worry. We'll find him."

On the drive to the Hyperion, Angel apologized profusely for the interruption to what he had planned to be a romantic evening out for Buffy's birthday.  He had made the dinner reservations at the exclusive Four Oaks restaurant in Bel Air almost a week ago, offering a substantial bribe to get into the normally booked restaurant as well as to secure them one of the better tables.

With a teasing smile, Buffy slid across the side seat of the GTX to sit next to him. "It's okay. It's my birthday, remember? Stuff like this always happens. It'll be fine though, we'll find him."

His brows drew together in a frown and he grimaced. That was another reason why he had wanted the night to be perfect. He knew about the typical Buffy birthday tradition where something, usually bad, happened.

Angel parked the car in front of the Hyperion and took Buffy's hand as they walked inside.

"Nice place." She gazed around the expansive lobby as they crossed the marble floor toward the counter.

"Thanks." Angel replied distractedly. He was already certain that Connor wasn't at the hotel since he couldn't sense him. He had been there though, probably as recently as yesterday.

"Hey." Gunn nodded his head in greeting and walked toward them, taking note of their clothes. Obviously, they had not been out on patrol or spending the evening at home. "Nice threads. Out on a date, huh?"

"Thanks." Angel said with a wry smile, his voice flat. "Buffy, this is Gunn and that's Fred."

Buffy smiled and extended her hand in greeting, her gaze drifting to the pink bundle in the young brunette's arms. "Oh, and who's this?" 

Fred shyly leaned forward and showed off her daughter. "Amelia."

Impetuously, Buffy extended her arms. "May I hold her?" Normally she would never have dared to ask someone who was virtually a stranger to hold their child, but babies had been on her mind so much as of late that she couldn't resist. The petite blonde's enthusiasm was so obvious and so apparently honest that Fred handed her baby over without hesitation. Amelia cooed happily in Buffy's arms, her eyes wide.

Cradling the baby against her chest, Buffy looked up and her eyes met Angel's. She smiled.

Angel stared almost mesmerized. The sight of Buffy with a baby in her arms moved him more than he thought possible. One day soon that would be his babe that she held. Impulsively, he put his hand behind her head and kissed her, a soft gentle kiss.

Behind them, Gunn cleared his throat.

Reluctantly, Angel drew back. Buffy sighed softly.

"So what do you know?" He turned back to Gunn, his tone unintentionally brusque.

"Not much. Connor went out around one thirty this afternoon the way he usually does. He goes for a run and comes back around three only this time he didn't come back. Around four I started looking for him, thinking maybe he lost track of time or went down to the pool or something and I just missed him. But nothing."

"I checked his room. Nothing is missing, that I can tell." Fred added, her expression worried.

"Well, why don't you take a look around and see what you see?" Buffy suggested to Angel and Gunn, "You guys know best where he might hang out, his friends and stuff."

"But Fred-" Gunn glanced at his wife with concern. They hadn't been out of each other's company since Angel had sent them all away from the hotel.

"I'll stay here with Fred and Amelia in case he shows up." Buffy added firmly, aware of the reason why Angel had kept the rest of the AI team away from the Hyperion. She chose not to mention Cordelia because she didn't want to add to Angel's worries. "Got somebody that can check out the Four Seasons? See if he's gone back there?"

Angel studied Buffy's calm face. He knew that what she was suggesting was . reasonable. As much as he wanted, he couldn't give in to his instinctive urge to say no.

"If you promise to be careful." Still, he wasn't taking any chances.

Buffy's mossy green eyes flashed a warning, her chin tilting slightly in defiance. "I'm capable of taking care of myself and Fred and Amelia. We'll be fine. Now go and find your son. We'll call you if he shows up here."

Her calm assurance soothed his rising panic. Bending his head, Angel kissed her lightly on the lips. He wondered, as he had often in the last few days, how he had existed without her.

Gunn nodded and called Lorne, asking the demon to swing by the hotel and wait for Connor.

"Tell him to stay out of the mini-bar." Angel added, as the two men strode briskly through the doors and out into the night. 

"Well, well, look who's here."

At the sound of the snide voice ringing out in the lobby, Buffy whirled around and found herself face to face with Cordelia.

"I should have known that you would be here, sniffing around just like a bitch in heat once you found out that Angel's soul was bound."  The former brunette stated maliciously, looking bold and ostentatious in a tight, figure-hugging red dress. The material clung to her every curve, emphasizing the fullness of her breasts and the rounded swell of her hip.

Buffy's eyebrows lifted slightly, but she said nothing, her eyes trained watchfully on the former brunette as she advanced into the center of the hotel lobby. Quietly, Buffy walked over to the settee and handed the baby she had been gently bouncing in her arms to Fred. Calmly, she gestured for the two of them to move behind the counter, out of the way.

"Where's Angel? I need to talk to him." The seer strode forward confidently, her hips swinging in an exaggerated gait as her eyes moved over her rival with obvious disdain. The small blonde hadn't changed in the years since she'd seen her; she was still obviously lacking in style and taste. Honestly, what Angel ever saw in such a ridiculously small, unattractive and obviously fashion-challenged woman, she couldn't even begin to understand.

"He's not here." Buffy replied, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. She hadn't actually expected to come face to face with Cordelia, thinking that the former May Queen would not have been so bold as to return to the Hyperion after everything that she had said and done. 

"Really? Then where is he?" Cordelia sneered as she walked around the lobby with a familiarity that bespoke former residence. Her gaze stopped on Fred briefly as if noticing the young woman for the first time before she swung back around to face the diminutive blonde Slayer.

"Still. Not. Here." Buffy replied with irritation, shifting her stance slightly.

"He doesn't love you, you know." The dyed blonde taunted, her voice a sneer. The malice in her eyes was obvious as she glared at the petite Slayer.

"Sorry, Cordy. You're confused. He doesn't love you."  Buffy retorted, taking a profound sense of pleasure in the words, as well as her belief in them. With a small smile, she added, "I doubt he ever did."

"Don't be naïve. Of course he loves me." Cordelia spat angrily, her gaze narrowing as she looked down her nose at the smaller woman. "He's loved me for years. Let's just face the facts, Buffy. You were just a silly crush. Angel left you behind in Sunnyhell. He's moved on now. To me." She preened slightly with the last words, smoothing her hair.

"You just tell yourself that, Cordy." The Slayer snorted dismissively. Her posture remained guarded as they sized each other up like two predatory cats.

"Honestly, Buffy, you're pathetic. Continuing to cling to someone who wishes you'd just go away or stay dead. Now, let me say this for you slowly so you'll understand. Angel. Loves. Me." The seer purred spitefully, "By the way, just where do you think he was when you died? Rescuing me. Who was here to help him raise his son?  Me.  Who gave up their humanity to help him?  Me. And just who has he been making love to night after night for years? Me."

"Get out."  Buffy replied sharply, uncomfortable with the reminder of all that Cordelia and Angel had shared, particularly the fact that they had at one time been lovers.

"I'm not welcome in my own home?  In my fiancé's home?" The dyed blonde questioned idly, her smile sweetly malevolent. "Please. I'm going to be Angel's wife."  Her eyes met Buffy's, her expression benign.  "We're going to have a child."

"Just get out, Cordy." The petite Slayer repeated coolly, even though her heart skipped a beat at the seer's calm assertions. The former brunette's confidence was a little unnerving. Angel loved her, Buffy reminded herself as images from their last few days together flooded slowly through her mind. And a child with Cordelia?  It wasn't possible, was it? 

"I'm sorry. Did I say something that you didn't like?" The dyed blonde asked with saccharin sweetness, her eyes gleaming cruelly.

"You were asked. no, I believe you were *told* to leave. First by Angel and now by me. So Get. Out." Buffy asserted, as all but the slightest doubt as to Angel's affections began to dissipate with each passing moment. He had told her of his love for her dozens of times - more - in the last several days and she didn't doubt his feelings or his sincerity. She knew him too well. And perhaps even more importantly, she trusted him. "Or I'll make you leave."

"Make me leave?" Cordelia laughed shrilly, the sound artificial and forced. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "You're ordering me out of my own home? That's . cute."

"You need me to show you the door? Or do you think you can find it on your own?" The petite blonde replied with a studied calm, long familiar with Cordelia's particular style of catty discourse.

"The whole forbidden thing is just the attraction, you know that, right?" Ignoring Buffy's demand, the seer advanced toward the Slayer, "I'll give it a month before he realizes that you're nothing special, that you're just another cheap whore like Darla was. He'll fuck you out of his system, dump your scrawny ass and send you packing back to Sunnyhell and then he'll come right back to me."

"You think so?" Buffy asked quietly, as if the former May Queen hadn't just attempted to brutally demolish her future. She knew then that she had underestimated the situation with Cordelia; Angel's explanation had fallen short in describing just how angry and hateful the seer had become. Not to mention, the woman appeared to be seriously delusional.

"I know so. It's the truth." The former brunette scornfully declared, "You have nothing that Angel wants. Nothing."  There was insult in every uttered syllable.

"That's not what he says." Buffy replied with a small smile, thinking of the pleasurable whimpers and moans she had extracted from him just yesterday.

"Is this where you're going to tell me that he's promised you a future together?" Cordelia sneered derisively, angered more by the Slayer's smug smile and calm appearance.

"That's really none of your business." The diminutive blonde murmured softly.

"Oh, he has! Grow up, Buffy." Cordelia mockingly said, taking another step forward and bringing her closer to her rival. "Do you honestly think that you, of all people, can please him? A vampire's libido. his true nature and unleashed passion. well, let's just say that I doubt you could handle him if he were to show you that side of himself. I, ah, on the other hand, realistically understand his nature and his needs and will allow him his. necessary diversions." The seer smiled, a wicked smirking grin that for a fleeting second revealed her demonic nature.

"Diversions?" Buffy's brows lifted, the memory of her excursion with Angel to the Palos Verdes vamp whorehouse popping suddenly in her mind. She smiled. She loved every part of him, and as for his "true nature and unleashed passion" - well, that thrilled her beyond measure. Her smile widened. If Cordelia had been like this while they had been together, the she really couldn't blame Angel for seeking companionship elsewhere. "Let me see if I understand.. you mean he can get his needs taken care of elsewhere since you can't handle him?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The seer spared a quick glance at Fred, her eyes glowing threateningly as the young mother nervously attempted to dial the phone.

"Leave her alone." Buffy stated bluntly, moving slightly as if to position herself between Cordelia and Fred and Amelia.

"My, my, what a protective little thing you are."  Cordelia murmured, her smile a shade tighter. Her eyes gleamed speculatively. "Too bad you didn't have the same consideration for your own baby."

The blonde Slayer stood absolutely still. She held her arms rigid at her sides, her fingers clenching to control the impulse to strike out.

"Tell me something, Buffy, just between us girls." The seer continued maliciously, "You aborted it, didn't you?  You screwed around, got pregnant and then got an abortion. Giles and your little Scooby gang was mad at you for taking off like the selfish little bitch that you are so you tearfully confessed a made up poor little me tale so he'd feel sorry for you. Then, let me guess, you told him it was Angel's baby so you wouldn't have to explain how you whored around. Of course, Mr. Musty book-man would then go spend all his time and energy researching some bullshit conception story, leaving you looking like Miss Sweet and Innocent who only slept with her one true love. Her soulmate." The dyed blonde sneered with a toss of her hair. "I do have to give you points for being clever."

Buffy moved so quickly that the seer didn't even see it coming, backhanding the taller woman across the face. Cordelia staggered back a few steps with the force of the blow.

"Don't ever talk to me about that. Ever. You know nothing about it." The petite Slayer's voice was low, lethally soft. "I can and I will kick your ass. Now get out."

"You bitch! How dare you!" Cordelia spat, her hand covering her red and stinging cheek. "You'll regret that."

"Really? When would that be?" Buffy asked with a tight smile, "Because right now I can tell you it felt pretty damned good."

"I will kill you."  The seer raged, rising to her full height. "And Angel won't even shed a single tear when you're gone."

"You can try." The diminutive Slayer quietly replied, "but scarier things than you have tried." 

"Yeah, tell me what it's like to be dead, Buffy." The seer acidly inquired, tapping her fingers on her chin thoughtfully. "Having to claw your way out of your own grave because your friends were too stupid to dig you out before before they resurrected you."

"You want to find out?" Buffy's green gaze locked with Cordelia's muddy brown one. "Except for the resurrection part that is."

"You won't kill me. Even if you could, Angel would never forgive you." The former brunette's face was ashen, but her eyes were glowing angrily.

"And who's going to tell him? I'm not." Buffy spared a quick glance for Fred, her facetious tone went right over the seer's head, "and I don't think Fred will."

Cordelia shrieked, outraged by such outright audacity. She lifted her hand to strike but Buffy grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm back before she could land the blow. The Slayer nearly crushed the bones in her arm with her grip, but instead she shoved the seer away.

Cordelia staggered back, a nasty smile curving her mouth. "You bitch!! I am so going to kill you. Once I'm done with you, Angel won't even be able to identify your remains."

The petite blonde advanced, her voice velvety soft, "I've kicked a lot of demon ass in my day Cordy.  I think I'm going to enjoy this more than you can imagine."

Cordelia sprung forward with her hand drawn back to strike.

Buffy dodged her easily, her own small fist slamming into the dyed blonde's shoulder and spinning her around.

Cordelia swung back quickly, catching Buffy by surprise and managing to hit the petite blonde across the face. It wasn't a slap but a vicious gouge, her nails curled, raking deep furrows in Buffy's cheek.

Frantically, Fred dialed the phone. She fumbled it in her hand nervously, grateful for small favors such as programmed one number dialing. She looked on with frightened eyes as the two women continued to exchange blows.

With a nasty snarl, Cordelia reached out and yanked Buffy's hair. The dragonfly clips tumbled to the ground and the seer ground one deliberately under her heel.  The Slayer swung her arm, punching the seer in the jaw and she loosened her grip.

Cordelia lunged forward again and Buffy staggered back under the taller girl's weight and they tumbled to the floor. Despite her words, Buffy was holding back slightly, wanting to subdue -and, okay, possibly hurt - Cordy but not kill her.

Gunn answered his phone immediately as it began ringing. At Fred's near frantic whispering and the commotion in the background, he glanced at Angel who brought the car to an abrupt stop.

Seconds later, they had turned around and were speeding back to the Hyperion.

"I'll go 20 bucks on Buffy." Lorne stated just as Gunn and Angel raced inside and skidded to a stop next to him. He leaned against the wall inside the lobby door.

Buffy landed another blow and a faint crunching sound of breaking bone was heard

Without looking away from the spectacle of the fighting women, he amended. "No, make that $100."

"I thought you quit gambling," Angel snapped, stepping forward just as Buffy rose to her feet and caught Cordy with a roundhouse kick that knocked the seer into the wall near the stairs.

"Well, I did, I did. Except for special occasions like this." The Host replied cheerfully, glancing at Angel for the first time.

"What? So I see a sure fire win." The green demon added, noting the vampire's aggravated look.

"I'm in. I'll go $100 on Buffy." Gunn replied with a smile, his eyes trained on the fight. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? You're supposed to be checking out the Four Seasons."

"The Four Seasons?"  Lorne questioned with surprise, flinching slightly as Cordy kicked Buffy in the shin. "You just said hotel. I thought you meant here."

Rolling his eyes in irritation Angel rushed toward the two women still fighting at the far side of the lobby. 

Angelus stirred, adding his own sardonic comment, 'Bout time somebody kicked Whordelia's ass. Especially since those that can and should, have been seriously lacking in that department.

Fred came out from behind the counter and put her hand on Angel's arm, stopping him briefly. "Wait Angel!  Maybe Buffy can teach Cordelia a lesson."

A good first lesson would be how to play dead. Angelus purred with an evil chuckle.

The tall vampire glanced down sharply at Fred, surprised at the sentiment from the girl who had at one time been Cordelia's closest female friend.

"You betting on Buffy too?" Angel asked somewhat acerbically before he looked back as Cordelia shrieked again and landed hard on her ass on the floor.

"Yes. If we're betting." The young mother smiled nervously then glanced at Gunn who stepped forward to put his arm around her.

Me too! I'll bet six hours of freedom on Buffy. Besides, she's not a coward like you. She'll snap the bitch's neck. Angel's demon chimed in with his own ante.

Suddenly the rending of fabric filled the air and all of them got a glimpse of the curve of Buffy's breast.

"My, my, Angel-cakes. This is entertaining and educational." Lorne said with a devilish smirk, having also walked up to stop next to Angel and Gunn.

Snort. Who is he kidding? He wouldn't know what to do with a breast if someone stuck it in his hand. As usual, the demon continued his running commentary and Angel ignored him.

Shooting an angry glance at Lorne, Angel quickly crossed the room. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he jerked Cordelia back. Denied her prey, the seer howled like a wounded animal and struggled against his grip. Leaning forward, she bit Angel hard on the hand.

At the sharp pain, Angel released the seer only to backhand her hard across the face. Unlike Buffy, he didn't hold back so Cordelia fairly flew across the room and slammed hard into the counter. Her head hid the wood with a resounding thump and she slumped to the floor, out cold.

Fuck! Now kill the bitch while she's down. Oh, but first check on Buffy. The demon muttered angrily, his words a snarl.

Assured that the seer wasn't going anywhere in just that moment, Angel rushed over to Buffy.

"Buffy. Are you all right?"  His brows drew together in a scowl as he examined the nail furrows on her cheek. Running his hands over her almost impersonally, which earned him a slap on the arm, he cautiously checked her for broken bones or other injuries.

"There you are."

At the sound of a familiar voice, everyone in the lobby turned back to the door.

Skip crossed the room with an angry glare on his face, stopping next to where Cordelia still lay sprawled on the floor.

"Angel." His tone reproving, the demon guide stared at the vampire.

That would be Angelus to you, you moronic demon piece of crap. Angelus muttered in disgust.

Cordelia moaned softly and Skip leaned down and helped her to her feet. Staring at both Buffy and Angel accusingly, he helped the seer over to the settee.  Cordelia looked up at him gratefully, her hand covering her broken nose.

"I have been looking for you." Skip stated, glancing briefly at the other occupants in the room.

Angel shifted his stance slightly, stepping protectively between Buffy and Skip. His expression was guarded. "You found me. What do you want?"

"You have been ignoring your duty." Skip declared, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Tell me something I don't know." Angel spared a quick accusing glance at Cordelia, reminded once again of the visions that she hadn't shared, that she had actually sold to his enemies.

"I'm talking specifically about your duty to Cordelia, your seer.  She now has a duality of natures, human and demon. As a higher being, her demon nature would have been integrated with her, but as a human she cannot adjust." 

"That's not true." Buffy replied adamantly, stepping forward to stand next to Angel. "Angel has done it."

Angelus muttered indignantly. We are *not* integrated. I just ... tolerate him.

Skip glanced at Buffy irritably. "Yes, which is why he is her champion." 

Buffy bristled at the emphasis the demon put on the word "her" and started to speak, but then Skip looked away from her dismissively.

"As a human, she has not always been able to control her demon, which is also the darker part of her nature. The demon part of her wants to act on her darkest, cruelest and most reprehensible thoughts. Hence, her lies, her betrayals. The longer her nature remains dual, the stronger her demon nature becomes. She simply has not been able to acclimate to this."

"The darkest, cruelest and most rephensible thoughts..." Now that's flattery if I ever heard such a thing. The demon murmured with a sigh.

"No kidding." Buffy interjected with a wry smile.

"Are you going somewhere with this?"  Angel asked in a bored tone as he reached for Buffy's hand, squeezing it gently.

Hey! I was liking it. Except for the part about your bitch seer.

Skip looked flustered for a brief moment and his eyes shot wildly around the room, first at Angel, then to Cordelia, finally to land once more on Buffy.  He seemed to address his next statement to the petite Slayer, "By being with Angel, by observing him, by helping with his noble mission, Cordelia will be able to control her darker nature. It's not a separate entity as you might think. Her demon nature only emphasizes her negative qualities. If she cannot learn to control her darker impulses and because her demon is magic based, she will need to be removed from this plane. Having a dark demon of her nature here will otherwise upset the balance."

"So?" Buffy snorted. "Look, rock pile, it's her own selfishness, something she already had in abundance, that her demon nature emphasizes. She's always been that way and she isn't going to change. She's been with Angel for years and it's only gotten worse, not better."

Cordelia spoke up for the first time, her voice tearful and her eyes watering. "You don't understand Buffy, because you don't have a demon inside you like Angel and I do. We know how hard it is, every day, to deal with that."

Buffy could see right through the seer's façade. Despite the tearful expression, her brown eyes still contained a certain undeniable maliciousness. "It's not the demon inhabiting you, Cordy, it's your own selfishness gaining strength. What you've done is nothing you haven't already shown yourself to be capable of, demon nature or not. It's just that you act on it more often because you can blame your 'demon nature.' It's an excuse. A free pass."

Angelus growled, Hey! I think I resent that.

Shifting her gaze back to Skip, Buffy continued, "She thinks by holding tightly to Angel it will help her?  That if he can live with his demon, then she can too?  Well, she can't. She's never had that strength or that character."

"I can too!"  Cordelia blurted, her eyes landing on Buffy angrily before she concealed the emotion and schooled her features to a sorrowful, repentant frown.  "I can do it. I can balance myself again. I swear - I'll be more kind, more generous. I can help Angel. I can help with his mission. I just need another chance."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, her expression skeptical. She glanced up at Angel, standing beside her quietly.

With a frustrated look, Skip turned to Angel. "The Powers have decreed that her fate be left in your hands, Angel. You alone have the power to determine her fate, and consequently your own."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, suddenly fearful by the implication of the demon's statement.

"This is not a matter for your concern." Skip practically yelled, dismissing Buffy angrily. He pointed at Angel and said commandingly,  "Your fate, your redemption is linked to that of your seer. You can help Cordelia with her redemption or you can condemn her to a life of pain and suffering. You must choose."

"Please, Angel, you're the only one who can help me." Cordelia pleaded anxiously as she dropped to her knees in front of him. It was a gesture so uncharacteristic of the former May Queen that practically everyone in the room gasped in shock. "Please Angel, " She whispered tearfully, holding out her hand in supplication, "I love you. I do. Please help me."

The silence in the room was absolute.

Angel glanced down at Cordelia then back to Buffy. He could see in just that brief glance, the fear in her eyes.

Buffy's mossy green eyes met the dark ones of her lover. He had spent the last several years working for redemption. She knew that and she knew him. Even more, she knew his sense of responsibility. It would go against everything he stood for, everything he was to turn away Cordelia. Just like he chose Faith when the dark-haired Slayer needed him, while she had not. Wanted him, yes. Needed him. That was a matter of opinion, but most would say no.  And if what the demon guide was saying was true, Angel's redemption depended on Cordelia's redemption.

At that moment Buffy's world began to fall apart.

She stared at Angel, her heart in her eyes. He had insinuated himself in her heart over a thousand different ways, right from the very beginning. The last several days had been the happiest of her life. She would have them to treasure always. And if, by some miracle, their efforts to start a family had not been in vain, if she was carrying his child, she would have a little part of him that she could keep. Oh, but not to have a chance to see him welcome his son or daughter into the world...

Buffy took a deep breath. She had to do this, for Angel. She couldn't make him choose between her and his own chance at redemption. 

"Angel?  I understand. I know why you're here. What you have to do." Her voice quavered only a little as she slowly began to back away from him. Her throat began to constrict and her heart felt like lead in her chest.  She loved him more than anything in this world, but she couldn't make him make a decision that he might grow to regret later. Nor could she stay and watch Cordelia be a part of his life, their life.

"Buffy-" Angel reached for her but Buffy drew back farther, holding her hand up as if to stop him.

"No, Angel. Just let me-" Her voice broke and she choked back a sob. A sudden cold chill struck her. She wanted to leave before her heart shattered into a million pieces, before she gave way to the tears threatening.

Cordelia, despite her broken nose and battered face, smiled smugly.

"Buffy!" Angel pleaded, stepping forward again as Buffy retreated further.

"Ah. there you are. I've been looking all over for you." Once again, everyone turned toward the door at the sound of yet another voice.

Whistler pushed his way past Gunn and Lorne and stopped. Connor, dirty and disheveled with a wide bruise on his face from having been hit squarely across the face with what appeared to have been a two by four stood behind him.

"Found something of yours." Whistler stated cheerfully, gesturing to Connor with a jerk of his thumb.

 

 

 

Part XVI

 

A hushed silence descended as everyone turned to stare at Connor and the man who had escorted him into the hotel. Gunn tensely shifted his stance, putting himself between Fred, Amelia and the newcomer, all the while keeping an eye on Skip and Cordelia. Lorne examined Connor with a careful look before turning his eyes to the short demon next to him with a look that was part skepticism and part awe.

At Whistler's appearance, Skip sighed dramatically and his large body seemed to wilt in stature. Cordelia, still dazed and groggy from her blow to the head, sat holding her hand to her face and covering her nose, which was gradually ceasing to bleed.

With Buffy's attention focused on Whistler, Angel used the moment to lunge forward and seize her by the wrist.  Echoes of Nikkos' warning about the consequences of heartbreak for Buffy ricocheted ferociously through his brain and into his gut. Panic was clutching at his stomach, rising with a steady swelling force at the pain he could see in her eyes, that he could feel emanating from her in increasing waves.

Dismissing everyone in the room from his thoughts, he pulled her into his arms. She struggled slightly but his grip only tightened.

"Hey, look at me." His lips brushed her ear as he splayed one hand across her back. "Buffy, sweet, please, look at me."

She shook her head as a single tear escaped her lashes and rolled silently down her cheek.

"Oh, baby." Pressing his forehead to hers, he forced her to tilt her head back and look up at him. His voice was soft and low, his mouth inches away from hers. "Hey, now, listen to me. I love you. I told you I wasn't letting you go again and I meant it."

Buffy inhaled deeply, still fighting the rising tide of emotions. A sharp, cold pain stabbed her in the chest and she gasped. Once more she tried to wriggle free but he held her too securely.

"I know I've got a lot to learn about love, Buffy. About how you tell someone that you love them so that they believe it, how you show them so that they feel it." He murmured softly drawing her closer. He was beyond worried that his efforts to date to convince her of his love and devotion might not have been enough, given the ramifications of the spell, and his past mistakes. "I've never loved anyone before I met you, so I don't know if I'm doing it right - but I can learn if you show me."

Another tear trickled down her cheek and she choked back a sob.

"More than anything, I want my life to be with you." He whispered as his eyes held hers. "This is real, Buffy. I'm never going to leave you again. I love you. You're staying with me. Now. Forever. Don't imagine that it will be any other way. Whatever the future holds, we'll face it together. Remember, we agreed to take care of each other?"

Buffy gulped, shaking her head. She closed her eyes. How could he give up his chance at redemption? He couldn't, she wouldn't let him. With renewed resolve, she opened her eyes again. "But Angel, you can't just give up-"

"There's no but or can't, Buffy. I've made up my mind." One hand ran up her back, caressing, soothing. With his jaw set firmly, decisiveness evident in his features, he added, "No one is going to decide our future but us. Trust me."

"Angel, you know how much I love you." She sighed, resigned to be strong even while he was being so stubborn. She wished it was as easy as he made it sound, but then they had never had the luxury of putting themselves first. They were warriors for a purpose larger than themselves, with missions and jobs that had to be done regardless of their own interests or wishes. "But if the Powers said-"

"Buffy, Skip's lying and even if he wasn't I wouldn't care." Angel insisted adamantly, his gaze burning into hers with the intensity of his emotions. "I promised you that we'd make it work this time and I mean to keep that promise. If you don't believe me then I haven't done a good job in convincing you how much you mean to me. How much I care for you. How deeply I love you." 

At the mention of the demon guide's name, the others in the room turned to look at Skip, who had been quietly inching toward the door. Whistler's eyebrows lifted and he nodded, as if affirming Angel's words. Almost absently he then drew a glass orb out of his pocket, toying with it.  His eyes met Skip's and the demon guide froze in his spot.

Buffy was silent for a moment, captivated by something that she could see in the tall vampire's eyes. There was love, affection, and warmth, along with a certain primitive possessiveness - things she had become used to seeing, but now there was also fear. What was he afraid of? Of losing her? Did he mean it - that he wanted his life to be with her even if it meant giving up his chance to Shanshu?  Or was it true that the demon was lying? That being with her wouldn't take that chance away from him?  The icy gripping pain that had been spiraling through her chest began to ease as she considered his words. He seemed so sincere, so certain.

"But Angel, your chance at redemption." She reminded him, concern in her voice. Her hands came up to rest on his biceps as she studied his face. What if the demon wasn't lying?

"My redemption, if you will, is as likely to be linked to a certain beautiful and amazing Slayer as anything else." He smiled slightly, aware that the near frantic beat of her racing pulse was evening out. Her eyes were no longer swimming in tears. Was he getting through to her?

"Huh?" Buffy tilted her head to the side in confusion, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected statement.

"He does have a point there."  Whistler nodded with a smile, glancing away from Buffy and Angel to grin at Lorne and Connor then at Fred and Gunn. The short demon fairly beamed, his hands in his pockets as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Angel and Buffy glanced at Whistler briefly for the first time since he had entered the room. Tipping his hat, he gave them a crooked grin and nodded, showing his agreement to Angel's statement.

Rousing, Cordelia snorted indignantly and rolled her eyes. She pushed herself away from the back of the couch and sat forward. Skip looked worriedly from Whistler to Angel and back again. 

"It's just a prophecy, Buffy, and you know better than anyone how unpredictable and uncertain they are." Gently he cupped his hand to her face, his thumb brushing away the traces of her earlier tears, "It may or may not happen, sweet, so I don't want to get your hopes up, but you should know that there's another prophecy, one that Giles translated from the Pergamum Codex. " Angel trailed off with a small smile, brushing a stray tendril of hair back from her cheek. "Hey, I don't want to spoil the plot for you, so I'll let you read it for yourself. It's in his journal."

She stared into his eyes. Could it be true? Was it possible that they were going get their future together after all?

"Stay with me." He pleaded softly, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling her cheek with his nose. "Stay with me and we'll make this work." 

"Are you sure?" Her voice quavered slightly as her eyes searched his face.

"Absolutely. Completely. One hundred percent certain." He kissed her then, a sweet, gentle in-love kiss that gradually deepened to something closer to touching the depth of their feelings.

Lorne sniffed and dabbed at his eyes. "Oh, true kye'rumption. It's so beautiful."

"That is so not kye'rumption, you big green idiot." Cordelia snorted indignantly, coming to her feet. Her movement caught Connor's eye and he shifted, positioning himself between the dyed blonde seer and the door. Noting his stance, Cordelia shot her former lover a disdainful look and grabbed her bag that had fallen to the end of the settee when the fight with Buffy had broken out. With her eyes mutinously trained on Connor, she reached in her bag and extracted a package of tissues.

"You're stuck with me, sweetheart. For good." Angel whispered against her lips when he finally lifted his head.

"Okay, great, so what about-" Gunn interjected, only to be shushed by Whistler as if they were watching a movie and needed silence to hear the dialogue.

"Angel, oh. I love you." Buffy whispered emotionally, her eyes once again filling with tears. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, hugging him tightly. "I love you so much it makes my heart ache."

"No, sweetheart," Angel firmly objected, pushing her away from him slightly to look down into her eyes. "Love me so that your heart is filled with happiness . because that's how I love you."   He smiled down at her. His eyes and his hand then drifted meaningfully to her stomach. "And because that's how I will love our baby." He said the last with a hushed reverence, his gaze once more returning to her face.

"Baby?"  Her eyes flew up to meet his, her voice questioning. Her hand reached between them to cover his. Did he mean-?

"Yes, our baby." He murmured softly, a smile on his lips. He brushed a gentle kiss across her open mouth.

"You're sure?" Her eyes, wide with wonder, sparkled happily as she took in the implication of his words. Her eyes narrowed speculatively and tilted her head, "How are you sure?"

"Yes, love, I'm sure." In answer to her second question, he only lifted his brows.

"Oh?  Oh. Angel!" Buffy excitedly rose to her toes and circled his neck with her arms, hugging him so tightly that it was a good thing that he didn't need to breathe. Her lips found his and she kissed him with all the enthusiasm and excitement she felt.

Behind them, Whistler smiled broadly, like a proud parent. He once again glanced around the room at the others. After almost a minute, Gunn gave a loud wolf-whistle. Fred only smiled, her cheeks pinking slightly in a blush, Lorne grinned and dabbed at his eyes again while Connor found the toes of his shoes very interesting.

After a few increasingly heated more seconds, Buffy and Angel broke off their kiss.

"No way. NO FUCKING WAY!" Cordelia shrieked, stomping her foot. "This is so not happening." 

Everyone turned to stare at the seer, who was now frantically digging through her bag that she clutched to her chest.

Connor advanced toward her slowly, distrustful and suspicious of her actions.

The dyed blonde drew out the dart gun loaded with the doximall shots and aimed it directly at Angel. Sure, it was a risky plan, but it was her last chance. She had nothing else to lose. If she guessed correctly, Angelus would kill Buffy, getting rid of the blonde Slayer once and for all or Buffy would kill Angelus - thus freeing her up for a new champion. Angelus might kill the other do-gooders if they were stupid enough to stick around, but she was betting that he wouldn't kill her since she released him. Either way, it was a win-win situation for her.

Just as she pulled the trigger on the gun, releasing the first shot, it was slapped out of her hand.  Connor shoved her back down on the couch and glared at her angrily, daring her to try anything more. When it appeared that she wasn't moving, he kicked the gun away from her, and it skidded to a halt just in front of Gunn.

The misfired dart went wide, past Buffy's right shoulder and into the far corner of the lobby. The blonde Slayer curiously went to retrieve it.

"Let me guess. Doximall?" Buffy returned to stand next to Angel, placing the liquid filled dart in his hand. "You hoping to bring Angelus out to play, Cordy?"

"Oh, why? You afraid, Buffy?" Cordelia sneered angrily, her battered face mottled with rage at having been so easily thwarted. "Surely as the Slayer you could take out one vampire. Oh wait, no, you couldn't. Angelus kicked your ass. Many times if I remember correctly." 

"Are you crazy?" Gunn blurted in surprise, turning his eyes to Cordelia. Angelus was not someone he wanted to mess with; that he remembered from years ago.

"I don't know what you hoped to accomplish, Cordelia, but I don't think my demon would be very amenable to your plans."  Angel smirked as the demon alternated between curses for the shot having missed, laughter at the dyed blonde's ridiculous plan and lusty comments about Buffy. "He most likely would have snapped your neck and then taken off with Buffy for parts unknown."

Cordelia glowered angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned to leave, but found Connor blocking her path. With a huff and a noise that sounded like a strangled snarl, she sat down.

"My, my. What a mess." Whistler proclaimed sadly, shaking his head as he looked at Cordelia and Skip. Turning back to Buffy and Angel, he shrugged and smiled, "Sorry to stop with the romantical stuff here kids, but we do have some business to take care of. I stopped by to see you a few days ago, but well, seeing as you two have been ah, well, a little busy there like a coupla bunnies, I didn't want to interrupt the honeymoon. Nice house. Great location, near the beach and all."

Buffy flushed slightly while Angel said nothing, only reached around her with his arm and tucked her close to his side.

"Oh, and sorry about the kid." The demon jerked his thumb in Connor's direction, "I didn't know he was yours. He was following me around." Whistler grinned at Connor, "A guy's got to defend himself and all. And being that this is Los Angeles, well, you understand my concern."

"What'd you hit him with? A two by four?" Buffy eyed Connor's bruised face critically before turning an exasperated gaze back to the small demon.

"A two by four, huh?" Lorne glanced over interestedly, as if mentally making a note. Connor had always made him a bit jittery, so knowing what weapons worked against Angel's hell spawn was useful information as far as the green demon was concerned.

"Hey - I don't have the superpower thing going that you do. I have to use whatever's handy. That just happened to be what was handy." Whistler muttered querulously, adjusting the collar on his jacket. "He's okay. Mostly. Right, kid?"

With a slight lift of his hands Connor shrugged. He hadn't known that his father knew the short demon nor that the demon was a good one. he only knew that he had been poking around the hotel and later his father's house down by the beach.

"But, that's not the business at hand here." Shifting his glance to Angel, Whistler grinned. "I suppose there's no need to tell you that more than a few visions that were sent your way were not delivered." The small demon turned to Cordelia, his tone caustic. "For example, the one for you to return to Sunnydale back around say, January of 2001."

Buffy looked up at Angel then narrowed her eyes at Cordy as the significance of the date established itself in her mind. That was just before her mother died. Only months before she had to face Glory and she herself died. Had Angel been there to help her, things might have been different.

"Ah well, can't exactly change the past now, can we? The circumstances have been most unfortunate, but we have to look to the future." Walking in a slow circle, Whistler paced around the room. "Buffy, what would you say if I were to tell you that you can retire?  You'd keep all that supernatural Slayer strength and you could slay if you wanted, but your job guarding the Hellmouth is done."

"Really?" Buffy asked skeptically. She had never heard of slayers being retired - other than when they died of course. 

"What's the catch?" Angel asked tightly. It was his nature to be suspicious of things that at first glance appeared to be too good, which, he admitted to himself, the idea of Buffy being able to leave the Hellmouth was certainly that. His experience had shown him all too often that it paid to be wary, that there was often some exorbitant price to be paid.

"There's no catch. Warriors that have done their duty may be retired, it's a common enough practice - well, when the warrior in question lives long enough that is." Whistler's gaze landed on Connor with significance. "Besides, a new guardian has been selected, so you can pass the torch."

"Me?" Connor fairly squeaked. He looked at his father who was now watching him closely. He squared his shoulders proudly, a lopsided grin crossing his face before he hid it behind what he hoped was a serious and mature expression.

"Yeah, kid. You up for it?"  The demon grinned, toying once again with the glass orb that he held in his hand. "It's not the hub of action like it used to be, thanks to the Slayer here, but there's still a demon or two around that'll put up a good fight." His glance fell again on Skip then on Cordelia, who was now fairly seething from her position on the settee. Her eyes darted around anxiously, seeking an escape route.

"Sure, yeah, I'll do it." Connor replied with barely contained enthusiasm. He couldn't believe he was going to be entrusted with such a task but he was anxious to prove himself.

Angel quirked an eyebrow upward, his own thoughts uncertain. Objectively he knew Connor was a more than proficient fighter, but some ingrained parental concern adamantly objected to the idea that he was ready to handle such a job. Nor, he admitted, was he ready for his son to take on the possible risks of guarding the Hellmouth, much less leave LA.

"That is, if Buffy doesn't want to-" Connor amended quickly, not wanting to appear as if he were trying to take over the Slayer's responsibilities.

"I suppose I could find something else to do." Buffy teased, glancing up at Angel out of the corner of her eye. She could almost feel the indecisiveness warring within the tall vampire as he sorted out his feelings.

Angel looked from Connor's expectant face to Buffy then back to Connor again. He sighed. It was, he thought wryly, a problem all parents faced at some point in their lives - learning how to let their children go. He knew Connor was more than ready and he was proud that he had been chosen. He'd worry about him, of course, and would help him out when needed - and probably when not needed as well, at least until he was more confident about his son's safety and abilities. It would give Connor some responsibility as well as a purpose, which Angel knew was something that the young man needed. Of course, it would also free up Buffy to move to LA. Finally, he nodded encouragingly.

"True, you will need something else to do." Whistler pondered thoughtfully, turning back to face Buffy. "Angel here is in need of a new seer.  You interested?"

"No." Angel replied flatly before Buffy even had a chance to speak. He turned, his eyes meeting Buffy's as if explaining his reasons to her instead of Whistler. "No visions. I don't want them. They've been a distraction and a hindrance. I'm not even sure I trust them or the Powers at this point."

"It's your choice." The demon replied agreeably. Everyone in the room ignored Cordelia's shriek of outrage.

"But Angel, are you sure?" Buffy stared into his eyes, happy to help him in any way possible. If he didn't want the visions, that was okay too. She still planned on being there to help him out.

"Positive." He replied with a smile, his arm around her back squeezing her waist gently.

"You have got to be kidding me. You can not possibly offer my visions to- to her." Cordelia blurted disgustedly, the last word containing a wealth of disgust and loathing as if she could barely even bring herself to pronounce the simple word. "Angel is my champion, do you hear me? Mine! Now do your fixing thing here and fix this mess." She punctuated the last with a stomp of her foot.

"Cordy, get over it already." Buffy acerbically replied, rolling her eyes at the dyed blonde's continued assertions. The former May Queen really was delusional.

"I have just the thing for you, Cordelia." Angel dropped his arm from Buffy and walked slowly to the weapons closet. Well, it's about time. Christ, I was beginning to think you were never going to show some spine, the demon muttered impatiently as Angel pulled a long, sharp broadsword from the closet. You could just snap her neck, but spilling her blood is good too. Wait, hold up!  You do realize that we're going to smell her putrid blood stench in this lobby for months. Guess we'll have to stay at my beach house with Buffy. Oh, and pick up that dart gun there, will ya? We could use that you know, sometime.

"Angel?" The seer questioned, licking her lips nervously as her eyes moved from the blade to the vampire's face. His expression was dark, determined. He really hated that things had come down to this, but he felt that he no longer had a choice. He had killed other demons for less than what she had done.

"I'm really sorry, Cordy, but I should have done this a long time ago." Stepping forward purposefully, Angel stopped a few feet away from the dyed blonde.  I'm not. Angelus purred ruthlessly, but I have to agree, it is long over due.

"I helped you." She weakly stammered, her eyes frantically searching the room for the slightest sign that anyone would help her. She held up her hand and cowered back into the settee.

Lorne muttered something and turned away while Gunn put his arm around Fred and Amelia and escorted them back into the office, out of sight. Skip only stared at the floor, immobile, a defeated expression on his face. He knew that there would be no escaping the wrath of the Powers now that it was apparent that he and Cordelia had been found out.

Buffy watched calmly, worried for Angel. She knew that this wasn't easy for him, as Cordelia had at one time been his friend.

"You only helped to save yourself, not because you wanted to. You stayed with me because you thought it made you noble to "love" a demon, a vampire. Did you think it gave you some kind of moral high ground?" Angel said with a snort, shaking his head. "You didn't love me. You only clung to the ideal of my quest for redemption, thinking that it would also save you. But the sad fact is that you were the only one you wanted to help. Being selfish doesn't mean you'll be able to save yourself."

You would have to give sermon first. Get off the soapbox and get on with it already, the demon muttered with bored irritation.

"Well, hold up there a minute." Whistler stepped between them, holding out the orb. "You could use that thing there or you could let me use this."

"What is that?" His tone wary, Angel looked at the glass object thoughtfully. He lowered the sword that he held in his hand.

"This, my friend, is their future." The demon nodded to Skip and Cordelia. "And if you ask me, more fitting than a quick death."

Angel considered the demon's words and glanced over at Buffy questioningly.

Cordelia's eyes widened with horrified recognition as she really looked at the object in the demon's hand for the first time. She screeched loudly and attempted to run for the door, but Connor grabbed her forcibly by the arm and swung her to a stop. The dyed blonde wailed loudly and struggled to break free but to no avail.

Buffy shrugged. Returning his gaze to Whistler, Angel nodded.

Whistler tossed the glass orb through the air. It shattered at Cordelia's feet and a cloud of thick muddy brown vapor filled the air along with a vile, putrid stench.

Connor coughed and choked, releasing Cordelia's arm and stepping back out of the way.  An instant later, the orb reformed and rolled around gently on the floor. In the diminishing haze Skip and Cordelia were nowhere to be seen.

With a grin, Whistler retrieved the orb and slipped it into a small black velvet pouch. He held it out until Angel reluctantly took it from his hand. "You probably want to put that up somewhere where it won't break."

With a smug grin, Whistler tipped his hat and went out the door. He stopped just inside the door and turned around, "Oh, and congratulations. I'll expect a call and a cigar - a good one, you know the expensive ones - in a few months."  He winked and left.

The Hyperion bustled with activity for the next few days as everyone moved back into the hotel. Business at Angel Investigations resumed with new fervor as well; all the files for unsolved cases or uninvestigated leads were pulled and reviewed, no lead or tip too small or obscure was turned away.

There was a decidedly lighter, happier atmosphere in the hotel as well.  Angel smiled more than the others could remember having ever seen him, and the unfamiliar sound of his laughter could occasionally be heard through the hotel - usually accompanied by an answering female voice or laugh.

Buffy confirmed Angel's belief with a home pregnancy test and a reluctant visit to an obstetrician. She rushed excitedly to the training room to share the news with Angel, which eventually led to one very determined Slayer arguing loudly with one very overprotective vampire about the dangers of working cases and patrolling. The training room doors were abruptly slammed shut, yet their muffled voices could still be heard through the door. When they both emerged hours later, Buffy's hair was in wild disarray, her cheeks were flush and their clothes were disheveled, but it was apparent from their smiles and affectionate glances that they had reached some sort of accord.

Nikkos performed the locator spell for Angel finding two more nests of Shaqti demons: one in Sherman Oaks and the other near Carlsbad, north of San Diego. The dozen or so demons crowded in the small hovel near Carlsbad were dispatched with quick efficiency.  Angel grated his teeth in anger and disappointment when they arrived at the Sherman Oaks site the next night: the demons had obviously cleared out in a hurry. It seemed that perhaps they had been warned about the vampire that was hunting them with a determination to extinguish their race. Finally, two nights later they were found near Valencia. The fight was vicious and brutal, but Angel, Gunn and Connor ultimately prevailed.

Toward the end of the week, Connor began packing his things for the move to Sunnydale with obviously mixed feelings. He was eager for the opportunity to prove himself outside of his father's shadow, but he wasn't at all certain about living alone in a strange, new place.

Angel, aware of Connor's warring feelings, assured him during a sparring session one afternoon that he didn't have to go to Sunnydale if he didn't want to, but the young man shook his head firmly. He was ready and eager to go, despite his hesitations and doubts.

They all agreed that it made sense for Connor to move into Buffy's condo since she was moving to LA. After some discussion of details, they settled on making the move at the end of the week. 

As they left the Hyperion that night to check out a demon sighting near Silver Lake, Angel told Gunn that he and Buffy would be at the beach house for the next couple of days. Call if anything urgent came up.

"Angel?"  Buffy whispered, her eyes scanning the darkened room.

"Yes?" The hushed reply came from the far side of the room along with the flare of a match. One by one, each of the five scented candles on the tray was lit and the faint scent of ginger and pear drifted through the air.

"What are you going to do?" Buffy whispered, shifting her position and turning her head as Angel approached her with his characteristic predatory grace. He stopped next to her, his wine colored shirt now unbuttoned and open, hanging loosely over the black leather pants. Her eyes moved from his face to his chest and then lower to the evidence of his arousal.  She licked her lips unconsciously in a provocative gesture and returned her gaze to his face.

"I'm not sure yet." He surveyed her with a hungry look, his dark eyes assessing. "You said anything I wanted - no rules."

"I said winner's rules." Buffy replied petulantly, yet a shiver of desire raced wildly up her spine. Her bottom lip jutted out in a pout. "Besides, you cheated. Yalarak demons normally do not stand that still. I'm thinking vampire thrall."

"Ah. But I won, so my rules." His smile was wicked. Leaning down he kissed her, his tongue lapping at her bottom lip and tasting the faint sweetness of the dessert she had eaten earlier that evening, her appetite for sweets increasing with her pregnancy. His tongue probed her mouth insistently, sending delicious waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Breaking the kiss to allow her to catch a breath, he continued in a soft murmur against her lips, "Which means anything I want." 

Buffy sighed softly into his mouth as his lips settled on hers again in passionate demand. She arched slightly and attempted to press closer to the hard strength of the body so close to hers, her pulse rate accelerating rapidly under the knowing touch of his lips.

Passion, raw and unbridled, rose between them. She squirmed slightly as her tongue dueled with his in flagrant invitation. The silk sheets felt cool against the heated skin of her bare shoulders and arms, the string-back halter-top offering only scant covering.

Straightening, Angel walked slowly around the bed, his dark gaze narrowed on her in speculative scrutiny. Retrieving something from one of the dresser drawers, he returned to stand next to the bed.

Her eyes tracked him in the dim light as he moved, a spike of nervousness flaring through her senses along with a touch of curiosity. She tugged nervously on the golden chains holding her wrists securely over her head and they rattled softly.

"Angel?" She queried again softly, her eyes searching for any indication of what he had in his hand.

"Hm?" Placing one hand on the bed, he half leaned over her. His dark sensual eyes held a touch of wildness and Buffy was reminded of the predatory creature that she knew him to be. She shivered in anticipation.

"Did you want something, love?"

"Yes," She demanded in a throaty whisper, impatient and slightly nervous. "I want to touch you." 

"Later."  His voice was velvet soft.

"You can't just make me stay here." She twisted slightly and tested the strength of the chains again. The lascivious thrill that had swept over her when he had impatiently walked her backward toward the bed and then chained her up with a wolfish smile still lingered, despite her small protestation.

"Yes I can." He calmly replied, standing again and removing his shirt. "I can do anything I want with you."

The authority in his voice sent another heated tremor spiraling down through her body; her nipples tightened under his gaze and she felt another surge of liquid warmth between her legs. She was already feverish for his touch. His compelling words only further tantalizing her with their authority.

"Now let's see if you like this." He slipped the black velvet mask over her eyes and tied it securely behind her head.

Pitched into complete darkness, Buffy felt a tremulous leap of her senses. She could still feel Angel nearby and she could smell him, the clean scent filling her nostrils. After a few seconds, she felt the dip of the bed beneath his weight as he lay down next to her.

Buffy gasped when he reached out with one hand to possessively cup her breast, squeezing the firm mound before rolling the tight bud of her nipple between his fingertips. She arched her back slightly, pressing into his hand as his fingers played, stroking and plucking the taut peaks through the silky material of her top.

His hand evoking such delicious sensations lifted away, but before she could protest, she felt the strings of her top being untied and the pale turquoise material slithered away, leaving her breasts bare.

"Maybe I should suck on your nipples first." He said lazily, his voice close to her ear.

A thrill blazed through her and she drew in a shuddering breath.

His fingers brushed her glossy pink lips and her tongue darted out to taste him. Intrigued, he slipped his fingers closer and she sucked them into her mouth with such tantalizing languor that his erection swelled harder in the leather confines of his pants. He inched forward and rubbed the hard ridge firmly against her hip.

"Mmm. Nice." He murmured softly, withdrawing his fingers from her mouth and sliding them down along her jaw to her throat.

"Now which one should I suck on first?" Angel questioned silkily, his damp fingers moving ever closer to the tip of one breast.

This one?" He asked softly, reaching out to flick one jewel hard peak gently.

"Yessss..." Buffy whispered, pressing her thighs tightly together.

"Are you sure?" He questioned softly, his fingers closing around the taut crest with increasing pressure. He knew the answer of course, he could tell from the heated response of her body, the aromatic scent of her arousal. He knew her body extremely well, knew the sensitivity of her breasts and how she liked to be touched. He squeezed harder.  His lips were cool as he pressed them against her throat in a wet, open mouth kiss.

Beneath the dark covering, Buffy closed her eyes. He was so close, yet she ached to have him closer. Much closer. She rolled slightly and arched her body toward him in abandoned entreaty, inviting him closer. The taut peaks of her nipples brushed his chest briefly before he moved away. A soft whine escaped her lips as he pressed her shoulder back down on the bed.

His tongue laved roughly at the scar on her neck and her breath hitched. She tilted her head away from him in submission, and he growled slightly in approval. After a few bites with blunted teeth, the lazy gliding journey of his tongue continued, moving lower along the outer curve of her breast and up to the center to take soft suckling possession of her nipple.

Buffy whimpered softly, the staggering pleasure racing through her senses. She lifted her hands to bury them in his hair to hold her to him, but was stopped abruptly by the chains around her wrists holding them tightly above her head and to the pillow. She tugged in frustration as his lips traced a path across her chest.

"Relax, love, just feel." He whispered against her skin before his lips again closed around her nipple and tugged on the hardened peak. He suckled gently then harder, drawing the tip deep in his mouth while his other hand idly played with her other breast.

"Don't stop." She pleadingly whispered, her voice filled with intemperate need. Her hips rocked slightly in an age-old rhythm as the potent swell of desire rose within her.

 He willingly obliged, sucking and nibbling and softly biting each jewel hard nipple in turn, creating a steady of rush of molten liquid pleasure flowing through her body in heated waves. When he lifted his head long moments later, her breath was coming in soft pants.

He shifted slightly and she felt the firm, cool muscular expanse of his chest hovering over the wet, aching tips of her nipples. Her head dropped back on the bed and she surged upward, wanting the crushing weight of his chest against her breasts.

"Are you wet, love?" His voice was deep, rich and very close to her ear. "Ready for me?"

"I've been wet . since you first came downstairs. in those leather pants." She purred breathlessly in reply. She had put them as well as the deep wine colored shirt in place of the clothes he had set out while he showered, but she hadn't been at all certain that he'd wear them. His demon had, of course, crowed loudly at the sight of them, his lewd chuckles and suggestions accompanied with an occasional 'I told you so'.

"You should have told me." He nipped at her ear, his thigh parting her legs as he moved over her. He obliged her body's request, lowering his weight on her slightly and feeling the pebbles of her nipples press firmly against his chest.

"You should have known." She countered in a seductive whisper, lifting her leg and rubbing it caressingly along the smooth leather of his hip and thigh.

"I did," He confessed, nuzzling her neck as one hand settled on her supple thigh. "I could smell your luscious scent." His hand moved up her leg, dragging her skirt up. She shifted her hips, allowing him to push the material up to her waist. She was naked beneath the short skirt, her tiny lace panties lost in the initial teasing wager that had begun their amorous game.

"Now let's see if you're wet enough for me to fuck."

The coarse word sparked an erotic image in her mind of Angel moving between her legs, the muscles of his back and thighs flexing with each thrust, his tattoo moving in a primitive rhythm; it was so graphic, so exciting, she felt an answering surge of heat race through her blood.

She moaned softly, enthralled by his voice and his hand steadily moving along her thigh.

"Spread your legs for me."  Angel ordered quietly, his eyes raking over her luscious form as he crawled slowly down on the bed.

Bending her knees and placing her feet flat on the bed, she moved her legs wider, away from his hips.

"Wider."  He prompted, sliding back further. He kissed her gently curved stomach then rolled off the end of the bed. He shoved the leather pants down his hips and off, his gaze never leaving the exposed wet, pink cleft between her legs.

With a soft exhalation of breath Buffy complied, opening her legs wider slowly.

His view of her was explicitly clear. Drops of pearly fluid were evident on her thighs and along the plump pink flesh of her bare cleft. He sat back down on the bed and ran his fingertips along her slick folds, stroking with deft fingers and smearing the lush profusion of wetness along her nether lips and throbbing clit. When his fingers drifted lower, between the cheeks of her bottom, Buffy's breath caught in her throat.

She held her breath, unsure if she wanted him to stop or to continue. Her hips however, lifted and rocked, enticing his caresses. The subtle friction of his probing fingers continued, sliding back and forth. Each touch ignited another spark of want, of need, within her, each seeming more desperate than the last as he brought her to the very edge of climax and left her suspended on the precipice.

Withdrawing his hand, he planted soft kisses on her thigh just above her knee. Another wet licking kiss landed higher up then another, so near the apex of her thighs she whimpered and twisted against the chains that bound her, seeking his touch again to ease the burning ache.

Unable to see, she was acutely aware of each probing touch, each wet kiss. Her hands curled around the chains above her wrists and she gripped them tightly, waiting with anxious anticipation for his next move. Her muscles tensed and quivered in expectation, her skin seemingly oversensitized yet greedy for each touch.

His hair brushed her thigh as he leaned forward; his fingers parted her plump folds gently. With only a few deft swipes of his tongue, she expired in breathless trembling orgasm. Her soft cries of pleasure sounded deep in her throat and drifted out in keening accompaniment to the expertise of his fingers, lips and tongue.

"I can't move," she whispered when she recovered her breath to speak.

"You can't anyway." He whispered back as he settled his hips between her thighs. His gaze traced a path over her face as his erection nudged her slick flesh. He ran his hands up her arms, his fingers interlacing with her bound hands and pressing them firmly to the pillow on either side of her head.

She caught her breath as he entered her with one powerful, complete thrust. He stretched her, filling her completely. She lifted her legs, wrapping them around his hips to entice him deeper.

A low growl sounded in his throat, riveting sensation washing over him in waves. He flexed his back and thighs as he drove into her, beginning a relentless rhythm, moving faster, harder. She rocked her hips to meet each thrust until, breathless and panting, she reached the pinnacle of sensation with a sudden, shimmering explosion.

He paused, holding her down and savoring the tight ripples of her climax and the intense liquid heat surrounding him. He slipped the blindfold from her eyes and tossed it aside. When her eyelashes fluttered open, he began to move again, once more building up the exquisite, glorious ache of passion.

Kissing her deeply, Angel buried one large hand in her hair and held her still while his mouth ravished hers; his probing tongue matching the rhythm of his lower body: insistent, demanding.

She arched wildly beneath him as his hands moved down and cupped her bottom, guiding her to him as he indulged his wanton lust for his mate. She met him eagerly, her arousal for him fierce, unrestrained. He made demands of her body and she more than willingly complied. She stifled a scream as yet another earth shattering climax washed over her.

Bonelessly she collapsed into the bed, only to have Angel begin the torturous rhythm anew. His hands roved over her body eagerly, impatiently. He clenched his jaw to stave off his release, burying his face her neck and laving at her rapidly beating pulse.

When she raced wildly toward her next orgasm, Angel hastened to meet her. He gripped her tightly as the tumultuous rapture sent them soaring over the edge together. At that moment, there was no sense of him or her as two, unique beings, no separation of their hearts or their souls. They merged blissfully together as one.

Without reserve, his features shifted and he claimed her. His mate.

Hours later, half dozing in his arms, Buffy murmured softly, "I was thinking. maybe. you want to get married?"

"Hm." Angel kissed the top of her head and smiled, his eyes still closed. Teasingly, he murmured, "I'd love to but I'm already married."

"What?" Buffy's eyes snapped open. Her head came up and she glared at him, her mossy green eyes alight with anger.

"It's an old Irish custom; rings exchanged followed by consummation." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, the white of his teeth showing in the dim light as he smiled. "It's as good as married."

Buffy stared at him in consternation. One brow lifted. "And just who did you do this with? And when?"

"Beautiful blonde. About your size. Let's see, it was about 8 years ago now."

"Oh?  Oh!" She snuggled back against his chest. "You are talking about me, right?"

"Yes, love. I'm talking about you." He kissed her temple and adjusted her in the curve of his arm. "I've thought of you as my wife since that night."

"You never told me." She ventured softly, her mind drifting back to her birthday so many years ago.

"I know. I should have." He closed his eyes, resting his cheek on her head. "I'm sorry."

"You! You encouraged me to - to - you know - with other guys." Buffy sat up suddenly, her hair in wild disarray. She punched him in the chest with a small fist. "You told me to find someone else even! That's- that's . adultery!"

He grunted softly at her half-hearted punched, grabbing her arm and pulling her back down to him. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry." 

He kissed the corner of her mouth and rolled her beneath him, whispering against her ear. "Let me make it up to you." He began to plant soft kisses along her neck.

Buffy's smile turned into a laugh as she teased, "You're going to buy me chocolate? Ooh, and ice cream?"

Looking up at her in the dark, his gaze amused, he laughed.

"What? It's for the baby." She settled comfortably back in the pillows, her hands toying with his hair. "He likes chocolate."

"Or she."

"He. But, in the meantime." She purred suggestively, tugging on his hair to pull him closer for a kiss. Her leg curled around his and she ran her foot along his calf. "I'll take something more personal."

Connor opened the last and bottom drawer of his bureau and began to sort through the contents. The two knit caps and the bandana went into the box that sat on the bed along with a few other pictures and mementos. When he reached the small strip of black and white photos he stopped abruptly and stared. 

It was a series of four pictures that he and Cordelia had taken in a photo booth near Venice Beach one afternoon almost two years ago. She was in front of him, her head half blocking his in the first, her face turned to the side toward him in the second, then titled to the side with laughter in the third, and they were kissing in the last. He had believed then that she had loved him.

"Hey." Buffy knocked on the door, startling him out of his reverie. "So, you about ready to go?"  They had been loading Connor's things in Angel's car and Gunn's truck, preparing for their trip to Sunnydale that night.

Connor jumped almost guiltily and turned to face her. The picture slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor, as if in slow motion. He moved to get it but Buffy picked it up before he reached it.

She glanced down at it thoughtfully and searched her mind for something to say. She and Connor had talked a few times since everyone had settled back in the Hyperion, but the conversations hadn't been about personal topics. Angel had, of course, told her about Connor's affair with Cordelia but it wasn't a subject that had been touched upon.

Connor dropped his eyes, afraid of the condemnation that he would see in her face. Instead, he felt her touch him sympathetically on the arm.

"I'm sorry." Buffy held the strip of pictures out to him and blurted out the first thing that popped into her mind.  "I know what it's like to have your heart broken." 

Connor's gaze swung around to Buffy before he again looked away. He shuffled his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders.

"It's none of my business, I'm sorry." Buffy said hesitantly, her gaze drifting absently over the sparse contents of the room, most of Connor's things already packed and ready to move, before returning to his face. "And you don't know me, so it's not like we can just talk about this stuff."

Finally glancing up to look at her, Connor took the offered pictures.

"But if you ever do want to talk." She said with a small shrug, "I can listen. 'Cause well, keeping it all bottled up inside?  Not good." Hastily, she added, "Or if not me, then talk to Angel - your father - he won't judge you or blame you or anything bad that you might think. He loves you." 

"Thanks." Connor mumbled awkwardly. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again. He hadn't talked about his feelings for Cordelia with anyone, even his father.  Would Buffy understand? "I don't know-"

"Anything else?" Angel stuck his head in the door then, unintentionally interrupting whatever Connor had been about to say.

"No. This is it." Connor replied after a moment, picking up the box on the bed with one arm.

He glanced one last time at the strip of pictures in his hand before he tossed it in the trash and followed both Angel and Buffy out the door.

Buffy carried another box from the back of Gunn's truck and set it along with the other boxes in the back bedroom. She smiled at Connor as he swept past her, carrying a box of her things from the house to car in exchange.

She was leaving her furniture behind for Connor; her other personal effects had been mostly packed up and already loaded into either Gunn's truck or Angel's GTX. Buffy grinned as she entered her old bedroom, overhearing Angel's grumbles about the sheer number of shoes that she owned as he packed yet another box.

"But honey, shoes are-"

"Hello? Buffy?"  Willow called out from the living room, the sound stopping Buffy in mid-sentence.

With a surprised expression on her face, Buffy came out to find not only Willow, but Xander and Anya there as well.

"Hey guys. What a surprise." Buffy greeted them with an almost sheepish smile. She had thought to call her friends several times over the last few days, but it had never seemed like quite the right time or she couldn't figure out just what to say. They'd never been particularly supportive of her relationship with Angel, so she wasn't sure how they would respond to the fact that they were back together again and that she was moving to LA. And if they wouldn't accept that, then she could only guess how they would take the news that she was pregnant.  It wasn't as if they been particularly close in the last few years either, which only added to the awkwardness of any type of personal disclosure.

"Were you going to tell us - your friends - that you were moving?"  Xander blurted abruptly, his tone angry and judgmental. "Or were you just going to send us a change of address card later?" 

"I was going to call you, I was. Things have just been - well busy." Buffy began apologetically, her eyes going from Xander's to Willow's. She realized now that the spell she had done all those years ago had also separated her emotionally from her friends. She regretted it, but she wasn't going to take complete responsibility for the rift in their friendship. "Look, things have just been happening so fast."

"Things, Buff? What things? Oh, it must be another of those things that you didn't tell us about." Xander sneered, turning his head to stare at the wall as he played with the brake on his wheelchair. "But why would I have expected anything different? You were never one to consider anyone else first. No, it's always about you. You-"

"Xander. Remember, I words. I feel worried, I feel bad." Willow interjected in an attempt to manage the conversation in a more mature and less judgmental fashion.

Xander turned back angrily, "Okay then, Will, I feel that Buffy is again behaving like a selfish bitch - again." 

With a worried expression, Willow looked from Buffy to Xander then back to Buffy again. Almost contritely, she said, "Buffy, we haven't heard from you in a while and we were getting worried. We were afraid that something, you know, might have happened to you."

"Yeah, like maybe you got turned or died or something." Anya added with a casual lift of her shoulders, her hands resting on the back of Xander's chair.

"Is there a problem here?"  Gunn asked with an edge in his voice as he stopped next to Buffy. He had just walked through the door, one of Connor's boxes in his hand. He stared at Xander as he set the box on the sofa, having heard the condemnation in the man's voice as he came up the walk. Connor, following behind Gunn, walked around Buffy to her other side, the two of them flanking her almost protectively.

"Willow?" Gunn questioned with a slow smile as he recognized the red haired wicca from years back when she had come to LA and restored Angel's soul. "Hey! I didn't know you were here. Nice to see you."

"Hi." Willow smiled with recognition at the familiar faces, her eyes darting back curiously to Buffy. Seeing his friend and his son, she suddenly recalled her last conversation with Buffy a few weeks earlier regarding Angel. Had the Slayer in fact resumed a relationship with the vampire? She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted before she even got a word out.

"So, Buff, you going to tell us what's going on?" Xander demanded, his tone reproving. He completely ignored the fact that Willow seemed to know one of the men, his irrational anger focused solely on the blonde Slayer.

"She got a new boyfriend and she wasn't even going to tell us." Anya stated bluntly, her gaze moving from Connor to Gunn with curiosity as she sized them up. She had jumped to that conclusion when she realized that one of them appeared to be moving into Buffy's condo, the box on the sofa containing men's clothes.

"A new boyfriend?" Angel walked with casual deliberation into the living room. In his hands he carried a box that was filled to overflowing with shoes. "You replace me already, sweetheart? I said you could keep all the shoes, I just said I didn't know where we're going to put them." 

As he set the box down, his eyes came to rest on the brown haired man in the wheelchair. With his vamp senses, he had heard every word, including the insults that Xander had hurled at his mate. Always before he had simply turned the other cheek when the boy had blurted out his insults and childish comments, but no more. He couldn't care less about anything Xander had to say about him, but his childish barbs would not be allowed to hurt Buffy.

"Dead boy?"  Xander's mouth dropped open in surprise. He hadn't expected the vampire to be here, not knowing that the two men in the room were in any way acquaintances of his.

"Oh, so not a new boyfriend." Anya stated flatly. She shrugged one shoulder dismissively, as if disappointed. "An old boyfriend."

Feeling the tension in the tall vampire's body, Buffy reached out and took Angel's hand. She then introduced Connor and Gunn to Xander and Anya then explained that Connor was moving into her condo since he had been selected to take over as guardian of the Hellmouth. She then added that, yes, she was in fact moving  - to LA with Angel. 

"Really?  The Chosen One is replaced and the Hellmouth has a new keeper. That's convenient." Xander glared at Angel, but looked away when the tall vampire met his stare easily. "Especially the timing, now that you and dead boy can get pelvic again. Sounds like you're dumping your responsibility, just like you dumped your friends."

Buffy shot a hurt glance at Willow, knowing that she must have shared the news about Angel's soul with the others. She was also a surprised at the degree of anger and bitterness in her friend's voice.

"Buffy-" Willow began, only to be interrupted by Xander again.

"Course, what else should we have expected?" The young man continued sarcastically, his eyes once more settling on Angel. "We all know you conveniently forget about your duty when it comes to certain things, don't we? I hope it's worth it, Buff. Wonder if it'll last this time?"

Without hesitation, Angel leaned down and put his hands on the arms of Xander's wheelchair, rolling him closer. His eyes cold, his face only inches away from Buffy's former high school pal, Angel said in the merest whisper, "Insult me all you like, but don't let me hear anything that even sounds like an insult coming from your mouth to Buffy again. Now I suggest you apologize." 

Xander hesitated, his eyes flitting left and right. The vampire had never directly challenged him before - at least not with his soul. His eyes widened and he stared into Angel's face. Did he still have his soul?

"No one here is going to help you. They wouldn't stop me if I were to snap your puny neck. And yes, I still have my soul." The vampire murmured silkily, allowing his demon to enjoy the boy's fear. Angelus was offering encouragement and a few suggestions for handling the situation, all of which ended in Xander's slow and painful death.

Stepping back with a small shove, Angel swung the boy around to face Buffy again. Casually he leaned an elbow on the fireplace mantle and waited.

"I'm sorry." Xander muttered quietly after several seconds, his eyes downcast.

"You know, I don't think that's really the best that you can do." Angel rubbed his hands together in front of him, his brows lifted in mild inquiry.

Buffy stared with wide, surprised eyes at Angel. He'd never spoken out to her friends before, always taking their comments quietly as if he deserved any insult or slur that they flung at him.

Willow glanced from Angel to Buffy nervously, uncertain if the tall vampire would carry out his threat and equally uncertain if the Slayer would even attempt to stop him if he did.

"If I were you, I'd come up with something better quick." Gunn told Xander with a smirk, "Cause, man, you don't want to see what he did to the last guy that insulted his girl."

"I don't think we ever did get all that blood out of the carpet." Connor added seriously, glancing at Gunn and shaking his head.

"Hey!" Anya objected, shooting everyone in the room a stern look. "There will be no spilling of Xander's blood here."

"No, no blood spilling." Buffy added, smiling at Angel. It felt wonderful to have him speak up for her, to defend her even if she didn't need it. She was too happy to care if Xander approved of her choices now or not. It would be nice if they could still remain friends, but if not. her life was moving on.

"I'm sorry I haven't called you guys but I have been busy." Buffy stepped over to Angel and put her arm around his waist. "And just so you know, we're getting married in a few weeks. I'll send you details when we have everything planned. I'd-" She glanced up at Angel briefly, then amended, "We'd love it if you could be there." 

Without a word, Xander jerked his chair around and wheeled himself out the door.

Willow hesitated briefly then stepped forward and hugged her friend. "Congratulations, Buffy. You too Angel." 

"Thanks." Buffy returned the hug, smiling slightly.

"I love weddings! Will there be cake? And those little favors with Jordan almonds and the little bows with the names on them?"  Anya blurted excitedly, her hands moving in wild animation. "I wanted those, but I couldn't tie those damn little bows. Besides, Anyanka and Alexander made for really long tails for such tiny bows. Ooh, and they make these really cute tiny champagne glasses."

"We'll work on Xander." The red haired wicca said apologetically, ignoring Anya as the former vengeance demon continued with detailed questions and comments about wedding favors.

Buffy only shrugged. "If he does or doesn't, it's his choice, Will. I'm not going to choose his friendship - and I use the term loosely here - over Angel."

"I understand." Willow nodded. "We should go find out where he went. Come on, Anya."

Buffy and Angel stayed in Sunnydale for two more days to help Connor settle in. During the day, Buffy took him around town and showed him all the places that he'd need to know - the bank, the grocery store, the Bronze and the coffee shop, the last two of which she insisted would be important for his socializing as well as patrolling.

At night, the three of them took to the streets of Sunnydale. Soon Connor was familiar with all of the cemeteries and possible demon haunts that Buffy's former town of residence had to offer.

The following evening, Buffy sat in a chair next to a large desk, her legs crossed beneath her, carefully reading the neatly printed journal that was open on her lap. Seated in the chair behind the desk, Angel reviewed case files and occasionally glanced at Buffy from under his lashes. He was worried about her reaction to the Watcher's Council's edicts regarding their first child, nervous about her emotional response to the whole thing and more than a little curious about her reaction to the prophecy that Giles has translated years ago.

A long while later, Buffy closed the book with a sigh. Angel glanced up from the file he was reading at the small sound. Without a word, she climbed into his lap and tucked her face in the curve of his neck.

He simply held her and waited for her to speak.

"I should go see him." Her eyes blurred with tears. Despite the misunderstandings, the lies, and his betrayal, Buffy still loved her former mentor. He had been more of a father to her than her own father had ever been.

"That's probably a good idea." Angel kissed the top of her head, his thoughts wandering to Giles and his ill health. He wondered if the former Watcher had much time left; he'd been so obviously wracked with pain and disease when he had visited LA just after Christmas.

"After the wedding, I'll go." Buffy murmured softly, her mind racing through the next few weeks. There was so much to do and what seemed like so little time. She tilted her chin to look up at him. "If that's okay with you?"

"Of course." He couldn't realistically go with her but the thought of her traveling to England alone terrified him. He knew though that she needed to resolve things with Giles and soon. He didn't want her to carry that regret with her.

They were silent for a long moment, both lost in thought. Buffy toyed absently with the buttons on his shirt while his fingers tangled idly in the silken strands of her hair.

"You think it's true - the prophecy?" She said in almost a whisper. She shifted on his lap and Angel leaned back, settling more comfortably in the chair. He held a lock of her hair to his lips.

"Nothing is certain. Prophecies can be wrong." He replied after a moment.

She peeked up at him under the veil of her lashes. "But if it is? True, I mean."

"If it is-" He paused, thoughtful. He rarely allowed himself to consider the possibility of redemption; it led to seemingly impossible hopes and expectations that might only lead to disappointment or worse. But, for a brief moment, he savored the possibility, letting it wash over him. For a shimmering moment he could see their future. He took a deep unneeded breath. "If it is, it's more than I had ever dreamed possible." 

A small, impish smile curved her lips. "You'll have to work hard. I mean, just because I got pregnant so quickly this time doesn't mean it will happen that way again."

"True." He smiled, the seriousness of the moment having passed. Their future was uncertain, but their happiness at being together now was unparalleled in his existence.  He planned to enjoy every second, every minute, every hour. "But then, you'll see I can be very diligent when it comes to certain. things."

"Diligent? Really? Is that what you call it?" Her smiled widened to a playful grin. Deliberately she squirmed on his lap, leaning forward to run her tongue along his neck. She nipped at him with her teeth and felt his arousal firm under her bottom.

He stood easily, holding her in his arms. "I'm feeling rather. diligent right now as a matter of fact."

"Oh?" She wrapped her arms around his neck as he brushed aside the papers and books on the desk and set her on it. Her lips found his neck again and she sucked the cool flesh through her teeth. A low answering growl sounded in his chest and she felt a furious surge of lust through her veins. It was not a new feeling, yet with each day she expected the sheer urgency of her need for him to lessen. Still, it hadn't shown any signs of diminishing; if anything, she only wanted him more.

"Show me." She murmured against his skin, her voice husky. Her hands reached for his belt only to be caught and held in one of his, dissuading her for a brief moment.

Leaving her sprawled on his desk, he crossed the room in three quick strides and kicked the door closed. Returning with a devilish smirk on his face, he pulled her into his arms.  "I plan to."

And for the rest of the afternoon, he did. Most diligently.

Weeks later.

"So he was that bad, huh?" Buffy glanced at her sister in the mirror as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup.

Since her arrival last night, Dawn had ranted continuously on the evils of men after having found out that Todd had been cheating on her for months with not just one woman but two, including Susie, Dawn's former best friend.

"Worse!"  Dawn flounced to the window and parted the heavy drapes. The sky was cast in an orange glow as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon. The day had been clear and unseasonably warm for April, for which Buffy was grateful. She saw the good weather as a good omen.

"I still can't believe you're getting married!"  Dawn wailed and turned back from the window, dropping the heavy curtains closed again.

Buffy smiled indulgently at her sister as she crossed the room to retrieve her dress from the closet. As she reached inside, she found a small, simple pleasure in just seeing her things hanging in the closet next to Angel's.

"And having a baby!"  The brunette fairly squealed as she flopped down on the bed. If anyone else in the house didn't already know that Buffy was pregnant, they would certainly know now given the volume of Dawn's voice. In fact, the neighbors probably knew now as well.

"It is hard to believe."  Now dressed, the petite blonde stood in front of the mirror, turning from one side to the other to see how evident the small swell of her stomach was going to be under the ivory satin and chiffon of her dress.

"Are you sure it's the right thing, Buffy?" Dawn rose from her lounging position on the bed and crossed the room, zipping up the back of her sister's dress.

With a dreamy expression on her face, Buffy smiled. "Definitely."

She glanced at the framed picture of her and Angel that sat on the nearby dresser. It had been taken at an impromptu celebration that Fred, Gunn and Lorne held at the Hyperion almost two months ago after hearing about the wedding; she was sitting in Angel's lap, her head turned to the side and a smile on her face while he, also smiling, leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. She would never forget the words of love he had whispered in her ear that night, nor the erotic suggestions - and then events - that followed. She sighed wistfully. "Most definitely the right thing. The most right thing I think that has ever happened in my life."

"But how did you know, you know, that Angel was the one?" Dawn questioned, her eyes meeting her sister's in the mirror as Buffy adjusted her veil.

Buffy smiled, thinking of the first time she had seen Angel. She had knocked him flat on his back, sensing him behind her. He had looked up at her with those dark eyes and she was lost. "He'll walk into your life one day and you'll know it. With the right guy - the guy - it's like the lights will dim everywhere else when he's around. You'll feel something in your heart and in your soul, some sort of, like, connection. It's so strong, so powerful and so there that it will make you wonder how you could have mistaken anything else for love before. In your heart, you'll just know."

"Well, I'm swearing off men all together." The slender brunette declared dramatically, causing Willow's eyebrows to lift as she knocked on the bedroom door. Dawn caught Willow's bemused expression and hastily added, "But not in a I'm going to like girls kind of way."

Laughing and shaking her head, Willow only said, "Buffy? We're going to head over now. We'll see you later." With a smile and wave, the red haired girl retreated down the stairs. Without missing a beat, Dawn once more resumed her tirade on men - stopping every so often to add in "except for Angel" for her sister's sake when detailing what she considered to be the faults of the members of the opposite sex.

Buffy glanced at the clock and breathed a sigh of relief.  It was almost time.

Several strategically placed torches lit up the small roped off section of the beach. An archway decorated in riotous arrangement with deep purple dendrobium orchids, white stargazer lilies, purple larkspur, white snapdragons and lush greenery sat at one end, the abundant beauty of the flowers highlighted by the gradually fading sunset. At the other end, there were several café style tables and chairs, a longer table with a simple buffet style spread, all of which were liberally covered with candle votives and flower petals.  At one end of the buffet table sat a beautifully decorated two-tiered cake.

Angel, dressed impeccably in a black merino wool Armani tuxedo, waited calmly in the limo with Connor, the darkened windows protecting him from the vanishing rays of sunlight until the ceremony was scheduled to begin, just after sundown.

"So, um." Connor stammered awkwardly, tugging at his tie. "How do you know, you know, that this is. um, it?"

Angel's gaze swung around to his son, seated next to him. "It?"

"Um, yeah, you know. love." Shifting on the seat, Connor toyed with the door hiding the bottles of alcohol in the small cubby on the side of the car. He lifted one, took a sniff and twisted his features into a frown. He put it back and picked up the next one. "And not just. I don't know. Something else."

Thoughtfully, Angel studied Connor's face. They had talked almost every day since Connor had moved to Sunnydale and Angel had been to visit several times, most with Buffy in tow, but they had never directly addressed the subject of Cordelia. He knew they should have, but they hadn't and now certainly would not have been the time he would have chosen, but he supposed that couldn't be helped.

"I mean, how did you know that Buffy was like, the one?" Connor added, a touch of bitterness in his voice. He closed the small door, once again hiding the crystal liquor bottles from view. "And not just, you know, like all the rest of them?"

"Them?" Angel inquired with a faint smile. He knew that Connor had been dating, he'd seen him while lurking around Sunnydale to check up on his offspring. Afterward, he had awkwardly broached the topic of 'safe sex' only to have Connor abruptly show him a condom package, which effectively ended the discussion - much to the relief of both of them.

Determined to get over Cordelia, Connor had thrown himself into the dating scene in Sunnydale. His choices, unfortunately, had not been particularly good ones. Sheila, whom he had dated for a few weeks, dumped him cruelly for another man who was what she termed, a 'better prospect'; he would be able to buy her the things that she wanted and deserved. Karen followed, a vivacious blonde that was attending UC Sunnydale and studying to become a nurse. After only three dates, she became a neurotic, clinging vine that went into a jealous rant when he spent any unaccounted for moment away from her. Then there was the beautiful Dominique. Connor had been head over heels in love with the blue-eyed, titan-haired girl the minute she had bumped into him outside of the Bronze. He had thought she was the one. That is, until he introduced her to his father. Dominique made a pass at Angel the second Connor stepped out of the room. She was lucky that it was one of the few occasions that Buffy stayed in LA, otherwise it could have been an even uglier scene than it had been. As he found out later, Dominique had never been one for an exclusive relationship. Since their breakup, Connor had only less than positive things to say about members of the opposite sex.

"Like all the other women that say one thing and mean another. Or only want a guy that can buy them things or do things for them." The young man muttered cynically, leaning back heavily in his seat. "Or say they care when they really don't."

"I'm not the best person to give advice about love, Connor," Angel brushed a few stray gray cat hairs off his sleeve with a grimace. Even though she was rarely in the house, Chloe's hair still somehow managed to show up on everything he owned. He glanced briefly out the darkened window, attempting to gather his thoughts.

"But you've been with a lot of women."

A little chagrined, Angel lifted his eyebrows as he turned back to look at his son. He shrugged slightly, dismissively, before he spoke. "Not all women are like Dominique or Karen or even Cordelia."

Connor's gaze swung back to his father's.

"You can believe yourself to be in love with someone for a lot of reasons. Maybe it's simply because they're beautiful. Maybe they make you feel special somehow. Or, maybe they just make you feel."

Angel leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on his knee.

"Then one day they break your heart. Maybe you find out that maybe they didn't really feel the same way about you as you felt for them. They lied or they cheated. Maybe there were a thousand little betrayals that made you feel like you deserved to be treated that way. They were never honest with you, not completely, so you never knew the truth about them or about how they felt. You never saw their real face. Eventually you realize that you didn't really love them at all. You couldn't have, you never even knew who they really were."

Connor dropped his eyes and stared at the seat in front of them. After a brief paused, he glanced back at his father. "So then how do you know the difference - between that and something real?"

Angel glanced toward the window again, the last rays of sunshine now having disappeared from the sky. How could he adequately describe his feelings for Buffy so that Connor would understand?

 "Love - real love - isn't just the pretty stuff that you see in movies or on TV. It can be at times, but it's more than that."  Turning back to face his son, Angel smiled. His thoughts drifted back to the very first time he had seen Buffy, sitting on the steps of Hemery. "One day you'll walk into someone special's life and you'll know. You'll know because you'll see her heart. You'll feel a connection to her, something that tugs at you deep in your soul. After that you'll wonder how you could have even thought anything else you had ever known or felt was love, because at that moment, you just know."

Connor opened the door and stepped out of the limo as Angel stepped out the other side.

"Well, it doesn't matter because I'm giving up women all together." Connor declared firmly after almost a minute of consideration. He walked around the car to stand next to his father. Hearing Connor's comments, Lorne's eyebrows lifted as he strolled up to greet them. Connor caught The Host's bemused expression and added hastily, "But not in a I'm going to be gay kind of way."

Lorne chuckled and shook his head, a smile crossing his face. He brushed the shoulder of Angel's jacket, frowning at the gray cat hairs. "Nervous yet, Angel-cakes? Everyone is here now I think, we just need a bride."  

"I'm ready."  Patting his pocket to ensure he still had the ring, Angel reluctantly turned it over to Connor for safekeeping. Behind them, the limo pulled away from the curb, the driver in route to pick up Buffy.

Following his father toward the beach, Connor began detailing the reasons why he was giving up women in the immediate future, listing what he considered to be their faults. It was unclear whether he was trying to justify his decision to himself or to Angel, but every so often he would add in "except for Buffy" for his father's sake.

Angel sighed, only half listening to his son's whispered litany. He could offer more advice, but this was obviously something Connor was going to have to figure out for himself. 

A few minutes later, the two of them stood next to the priest and in front of their small group of friends, waiting as the returning limo stopped once again at the curb.

"Who's that?" Connor whispered to his father with a touch of awe in his voice as Dawn, in a beautiful lavender chiffon dress cut in a similar style to Buffy's, made her way from the car down the short aisle to where the men stood next to the archway.

The young brunette stared at Connor curiously, a flirtatious smile curving her lips. With her eyes still locked with Connor's, she turned too soon and tripped over the first row of chairs, stumbling ungracefully. She recovered her footing without falling, but blushed furiously as she took her place. A few muffled chuckles were heard in the audience, increasing Dawn's embarrassment.

Angel replied to Connor's question in a whisper, his lips quirking into a smile. His son's decision to give up on the opposite sex had lasted about twenty minutes.

The three-piece orchestra then began playing Pachebel's Canon in D, announcing the arrival of the bride. Buffy, with her hand on Nikkos' arm, now stood at the edge of the small group of chairs and waited.

When Angel turned dark assessing eyes to his bride and smiled, it was plain to see that he adored her and she him. She returned his welcoming and intimate smile with one of her own and for that one evanescent moment if was if it were only the two of them, alone on the candlelit beach.

Buffy wore a beautiful ivory satin and chiffon off-the-shoulder gown with a scoop neck and cap sleeves. The slight flare of the A-line dress hid the gently rounded swell of her belly that was just beginning to show.  Sizeable pear-shaped diamonds - a gift from her bridegroom - hung from her ears and sparkled in the candlelight.  A delicate halo in antique silver encircled the rich golden curls of her upswept style, the dainty rhinestone and pearl accents of the filigree design seeming to twinkle with each movement of her head. The attached seed-pearl edged veil fluttered behind her in the light breeze.  In her hand, she held a small nosegay of lavender roses, white tulips, and fragrant white and lavender freesia.

Incongruous to the elaborate dress was, perhaps, the bare feet that peeked out from beneath the hem. After serious consideration, Buffy discarded her high heel sandals for fear she would twist her ankle in the sand.

With a big smile, Nikkos gave the bride away to her groom then joined a sniffling Mona and Lorne in the first row of seats.

The ceremony was intimate and brief, the priest intoning the appropriate words as they pledged their hearts and their lives to each other.  Buffy's lip quivered emotionally when Angel slipped the platinum Claddagh ring on her finger, to which Angel responded by pulling his bride closer and gently kissing her. The priest smiled patiently at the show of affection and offered a teasing comment about not being to that part of the service yet which brought a chuckle from the small audience. He then resumed the ceremony, a blushing Buffy slipping a matching Claddagh ring on Angel's finger.

The reception that followed on the beach was informal and fun, the newlyweds mingling with their friends in a rare gathering of everyone in one place. Buffy grinned at Dawn's unsubtle attempts to sneak peeks at Connor and so, taking pity on her sister, introduced them. Every so often Dawn's laughter would ring out from the corner table where the two of them had been sitting and talking since. 

Gunn, Nikkos and Lorne drew Angel aside and teased him good-naturedly about the demands of marriage as Nikkos drew out a bottle containing a very rare vintage brandy. They shared the bottle amid toasts to the couple's happiness.

Angel watched Buffy across the small expanse of the beach as she chatted with her old friends from Sunnydale; his gaze lingering on her warmly, possessively. Feeling his gaze on her, Buffy met his eyes briefly and was immediately assailed with all of those familiar feelings he so easily evoked in her: the subtle anxious tension, that heightening of her senses and the accompanying immediate spark of desire. It was perhaps unseemly for a three and a half months pregnant woman, not to mention all the time they had already spent together, yet the thrill was still there, the sudden breathlessness, the ache of need, the wonder of love. She wondered if the feeling would ever fade.

Xander repeating her name insistently drew her attention back to him and she smiled at him absently.

"Congratulations, Buff. Really. I mean it." He took her hand in his and squeezed it, drawing her full attention to him for the first time. "I know this is something that you always wanted. You and Dead boy-"

Anya kicked his wheelchair less than subtly with her foot and looked down at him with lifted eyebrows.

"Angel. You and Angel have been through a lot. You've waited for this a long time." Xander glanced up at her briefly, nervously wringing his hands. His eyes darted away to the darkness of the ocean then back again to Buffy. "I know you love him and- and well, he'd be a complete idiot to not love you in return. I hope you'll be happy with him."

Clearing her throat loudly, the former vengeance demon stared into her husband's eyes with an exaggerated the lift of her brows. She then smiled innocently at Buffy.

With a heavy sigh, Xander muttered, "And I'm- I'm- sorry that I've been such an ass."

"See that wasn't that hard." Anya smiled proudly and patted Xander on the shoulder. Jessie returned from the buffet with a small plate of food and Anya's attention shifted immediately. "Are there any more of those shrimp things? I like those. It was worth the drive here just for that."

"Thanks, Xand. It means a lot that you guys all came." Buffy leaned down and kissed Xander on the cheek as Anya, still babbling on, walked away. Life was much too good for the diminutive Slayer to feel it necessary to hold a grudge. 

"The wedding was really beautiful, Buffy." Willow added with a smile. She and Buffy had talked last night and earlier that day and so Willow was hopeful that at least some semblance of their former friendship could be salvaged. They'd all grown up a lot in the last few years; they admitted that they had all made mistakes, had taken each other for granted or made assumptions that had caused their friendship to deteriorate.

"And Angel looks super hot in his tux."  Anya piped in, returning with a plate of food that she offered to share with Xander. "What? He does." She added when her husband shot her an annoyed look. 

"Yes, he does." Buffy replied with a wistful sigh as she glanced back at her new husband. Husband. It was almost unreal to think of him in those terms. His head was turned away from her just then as he listened earnestly to something Nikkos was saying.

A short while later, a pair of strong arms encircled her waist. She sighed, leaning her head back against the hard chest behind her and glancing out into the darkness of the ocean. One hand splayed over her midriff, holding her against him. Her friends suddenly found the buffet table interesting and drifted away, leaving the newlyweds alone.

"Missed you last night."  He whispered softly against her ear. "And today."

Angel had spent the previous night and day at the Hyperion with the men, while the women had stayed at the beach house, Mona insistent that Angel not see his bride before the wedding.

"Mmm. me too." She purred in reply, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. She'd discovered that she had easily become used to having a large, cool body in bed next to her. Without him, she hadn't been able to sleep.

"Kiss me." He murmured, loosening his hold so she could turn in his arms.

Her lips curved into a smile as she gazed up at him. She titled her head back and her eyes closed in anticipation of his kiss.

Lowering his lips to hers, Angel brushed her mouth with a kiss. His arms surrounded her, pulling her closer as the kiss gradually deepened. Buffy's hands slid up the hard planes of his chest to his face, framing his jaw. She slipped her tongue between his parted lips to tangle caressingly with his. He tasted wonderful, like fresh mint with a hint of cinnamon and something else indescribable, but something elementally male and powerful. Slanting her head, she pressed closer.

"Er-ah-hem."

Buffy's lips clung to Angel's for a moment longer as he reluctantly drew back. He pressed his forehead to hers for a brief second, their eyes meeting before they turned to look over at the source of the sound.

Mona stood just to the left, a smile playing on her lips. Her teasing expression and lively blue eyes suddenly sparked a memory. Angel and Buffy both blinked at the strange sense of déjà vu.

"Time to cut the cake, kids."  The sultry redhead's smile widened to a grinned. She whirled around and began walk back toward the others. With a devious expression on her face, she casually remarked, " So, Angel?  You, of course, packed up a few of your demon's naughty little purchases for the honeymoon, I hope?" 

Angel's head came up with a jerk and he stopped short, a touch of embarrassment marking his features. Buffy flushed and a small embarrassed chuckle escaped her lips.

"And do make sure you take some vegetable oil." Glancing back over her shoulder Mona casually remarked, "It's the only way to remove that liquid latex if it gets in your hair."

As they all walked over to where the others stood near the cake, Mona continued her casual teasing ramble, "I have to say, you do have excellent taste. That commissioned jewelry really is exquisite."  

Her gaze swung back to the newlyweds playfully, "I've hinted that Nikkos buy me something similar, but perhaps with dark blue sapphires.  Blood red rubies hold more appeal for . certain of us." She winked mischievously.  "Maybe you could let him know if it was. um. worth it. You know, give him that little nod of encouragement."

His discomfiture slipping away, Angel glanced down at his bride with a wicked gleam in his eye. A slow smile curved his lips, "Oh, it was definitely worth it. You can tell him that I highly recommend it."

Buffy's cheeks turned even pinker under his heated gaze, but she laughed. Unable to resist, his arm curved around her and he drew her close for a kiss.

Mona sighed dreamily; they were just too damned cute together. This was exactly how it should be.

Not long after they cut their cake and posed for a few more pictures, Angel determined that it was time for them to slip away. He captured Buffy's hand in his and tugged her along behind him, stopping after only a few steps to sweep her into his arms to speed their progress.

They waved goodbye to their guests as the limo pulled away; the newlyweds were off to spend a few days in blissful solitude in one of the private bungalows at Chateau Marmont. The cottage Angel selected was romantic and cozy, surrounded by lush garden landscaping. With a private entrance and driveway on one side and a hillside on the other, it also guaranteed them their privacy.

Buffy gave Angel a surprised smile as they exited the limo and made their way inside. She had no idea he had arranged this; she had been more than happy with the idea that they would simply be spending their first few days as husband and wife at their beach house.

"How. when." Buffy stammered, turning to face Angel as he stood behind her just inside the door.

"I couldn't take you on the kind of honeymoon you deserve, but I wanted to do something to make tonight special." With his hand on the small of her back, he guided her down the hallway.

When she reached the bedroom door, she stood arrested, her breath held as she gazed at the array of twinkling candles. Colored votives lined the windowsills and were clustered in arrays on the top of the night tables and armoire, illuminating the room in jewel like splendor. The delicate fragrance of rose filled the air, a large vase of the deep red flowers prominently displayed on the bureau near the door.

"And maybe I made a few small requests when I made the reservations." Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips.

"It's beautiful. So romantic." She smiled up at him, thinking about all of the small things he often did that were so special, so caring and romantic. "And very special. But then I only need you for that."  She reached up to untie his tie and he watched her intently. The ivory satin of her wedding gown shimmered in the golden glow of the candlelight, the pearls and jewels on her dress and in her hair sparkling as she moved.

In the hushed silence, he drew her into his arms and gently kissed her. She swayed into him, the kiss turning into one of barely restrained hunger.  Her lips were parted beneath his, her tongue luring his into her mouth. Stretching up on her toes, she molded against him as his palms slid down her back.

Breaking off the kiss to take a breath, Buffy eased back slightly and began to unfasten the buttons on his vest. She eased his jacket down his shoulders and arms, tossing it on the nearby chair. He shrugged out of the vest and laid it on top of his coat.

"I love you." She breathed softly as their eyes met and held. There was magic in the air tonight, surrounding them. It was ridiculous perhaps, since they had been together countless times before, yet the feeling persisted. With her fingertips she traced the slant of his eyebrow, the line of his jaw. When she reached his lips, he caught her hand with his and kissed her fingers.

"You're my life." He murmured in reply, his voice heated and low. "I love you very much."

Carefully he removed her veil and the pins from her hair, running his fingers gently through the golden tresses. Buffy stood completely still, her eyes half-closed as he planted soft butterfly kisses on her lips and cheeks, on her temples and her earlobes, on the warm pulse of her throat then his mouth drifted lower, following the neckline of her dress. With a gentle nudge, he encouraged her to turn away from him. Gathering her hair in his hand, he lifted it away and continued his delicate kisses along the nape of her neck, causing goose bumps to rise along her shoulders and down her arms.

He unbuttoned the tiny row of buttons along the back of her dress, the expensive fabric sliding down to pool at her feet. His hands moved slowly, lingeringly from her shoulders down her arms. His fingers laced with hers and he kissed the curve of her shoulder tenderly.

Now clad only in a tiny lace bra and panties, ivory to match her gown, Buffy stepped out of her dress as Angel picked it up and laid it carefully on the chair with his coat.  She removed the rest of her clothing with slow, leisurely movements as he watched with dark sensual eyes.

With a seductive, graceful walk she moved to him, her hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. The hard strength of his body excited her, her skin grew flushed and heated, her nipples hardened. Between intoxicating kisses and lingering caresses, she undressed him, taking her time to explore his body with hot, wanting eyes, eager hands and soft lips.

Impatiently he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. His palm slid up her rib cage to her cup her breast as he followed her down on the wide expanse of the bed. His fingers splayed over the ripe mound then squeezed gently.

"Beautiful." He murmured softly before his lips descended once more on hers. Her mouth opened under the pressure of his lips and he slipped his tongue into her mouth. His hands continued to rove over her, enjoying the feel of her skin so smooth and soft and warm.  Buffy sighed softly into his mouth, a small sound of pleasure.

Pushing lightly at his shoulder, she rolled him on his back. Following him over, she straddled his hips. She glanced down at him through half-closed eyes, her hands gliding over the wide expanse of his shoulders. Leaning down she kissed him with lazy, warm seduction. She whispered soft words of love against his lips, her mouth sliding along his jaw to his ear where her words became shockingly erotic. Kissing a path along his throat, she continued her tantalizing whispers. Crushing her breasts against the firm muscles of his chest, she bit his neck, leaving crescent teeth marks in his pale flesh.

A soft sound, almost a growl, escaped his lips and he adjusted her to sit more directly on his now painfully hard erection. His hands roved over her hips, her thighs, and her bottom possessively, rocking her gently, encouraging her small undulating movements.

The hard tips of her breasts felt oversensitized as she slid them up the cool skin of his chest to tease his lips with the taut pink crests. Cupping her hand around one breast she guided it to his mouth. Her eyes closed as he licked and gently bit, then sucked her areola into his hungry mouth. The heated flame of desire moved with rapid rushing speed from her breasts to her belly and lower. 

Sliding back down, she returning her lips to his, her tongue probing his mouth as she rocked her hips in teasing seduction against him, brushing his swollen erection with the lightest touch of her mons. 

She wanted him to possess her, utterly, totally. She wanted him deep inside her body.

As if he understood her need, he changed their position rolling her beneath him. Her eyes opened briefly to meet his before he trailed kisses from the corner of her mouth to her ear, tasting her earlobe with his tongue. She arched her neck, surrendering herself fully as his open mouth moved down her neck to suck at the pulse beat in her throat. She could feel his arousal against her thigh, hard and blatant. Her need for him rose with shimmering impatience and she clutched at his shoulders, her fingers gripping tightly.

He brushed his fingers lightly between her legs and Buffy's breath hitched. She was almost surprised to feel the light touch so intensely, yet he always seemed to know how and where to touch her. and how deeply.  A soft moan escaped her lips and she arched into his hand. His long fingers slipped inside, preparing her for his invasion.

He moved over her and entered her in one smooth stroke as her arms curved around his neck, her fingers sinking into the thick mass of his hair. Overwhelming sensation washed over her as the welcome weight of his body settled on her. The strength and power of his body surrounded her, filling her completely as he moved with steady gliding strokes. The hushed silence of the room was broken only by her panting breaths and soft whimpering moans.

The muscles in Angel's back, legs, and arms flexed and contracted, sustaining his slow measured progress. He withdrew, paused for a brief suspended moment then slid back in with infinite slowness, savoring the building tide of passion. He was in no hurry, enjoying each wave of exquisite pleasure, gliding in and out with tantalizing slowness. She was so hot, so wet and so tight around him, he released a low hiss of satisfaction.

Uttering a breathy sigh of pleasure, Buffy clung to him, arching her back and pressing closer. Her knees bent and clasped his hips.

"I love you." Angel whispered into her tangled hair, crushing her to him. His arms were now wrapped tightly around her slender back, crushing her breasts to his chest as the driving penetration of his hips continued.

Buffy matched his need and desire, clinging fiercely to him with intemperate need. Her lips searched for his and she kissed him wantonly, feverishly as she ran her hands over his back. She reveled in the hard, muscular frame pressed so tightly to hers, so intimately entwined with her in the age-old dance of love.

"Now. Angel. please." She panted in his ear, straining against him impatiently.

Moments later, a soft keening cry of rapture escaped her lips as he brought them to the peak of ecstasy, holding her tightly as he poured his own impassioned release into her welcoming body.

With tenderness and love, and later with urgency and fevered hunger, they celebrated their marriage and their love.  Some hours later when most of the candles had died out, they drowsed in each other's arms, sated.

Buffy, curled against Angel, her head resting on his shoulder, whispered with something akin to awe, "I never thought I would have this you know. Us, together. And married." She held out her hand, looking at the Claddagh ring encircling her finger. "It's unreal."

"It's real." Angel whispered in reply, kissing her forehead gently.

"I just never thought.I'm so happy, Angel." She murmured, closing her eyes as she drifted off to sleep. With a content smile she snuggled closer, her hair draped over his arm, the warmth of her breath on his chest. Sighing softly, she finished, "I love you."

In her sleep she clutched him closer.

"I'm here." He whisperingly reassured her, gently kissing her head once again.

Content, they slept.

Buffy shivered and drew her coat around her tightly. The morning was damp and cold, even for an English morning in June. She stared almost blankly at the flower-laden casket as the minister's words rolled over her, only half invading her consciousness. 

She only had five days. 

She had arrived in London only eight days ago. A driver, arranged courtesy of her husband, had met her at the airport and whisked her to the small cottage just outside of the bustling city where Olivia and Giles lived.

She had knocked on their door with a small amount of trepidation. It had been years since she and her former mentor had exchanged more than brief pleasantries. She hadn't even told him that she was coming.

Olivia greeted her warmly and escorted her to the study in the back of the house. Giles spent a good bit of his time still holed up with his books, reading, studying, and even translating ancient manuscripts. Some old habits never really died, did they? Not like people.

Buffy choked back a sob, her eyes watering with tears. She closed them tightly and wished again that Angel were there with her. Now more than ever she wanted his strength, his comfort.

Giles had been speechless when he had looked up to see her standing in the doorway. Then he smiled and his eyes clouded with tears. She stifled her initial shock at seeing the formerly healthy man reduced to almost a shell of his former self. He seemed so very frail that she hugged him carefully, afraid that she could easily and unintentionally hurt him.

They had sat on the grass in the yard behind the house that afternoon and had talked only of superficial things, both of them nervous and somewhat hesitant to broach the more difficult topics right off the bat. She told him about Dawn at college, about Willow and Xander and Jessie - even though he already knew about them thanks to the occasional letter from Willow.

The minister's voice changed cadence as he chanted something in Latin and Buffy's attention returned to him and then to the mass of white lilies that adorned the casket containing her former Watcher and mentor. Over the years he had become so much more to her. He had been more of a father to her than her own father had ever been. She couldn't believe he was gone.

The next morning over tea and biscuits, she had shown him pictures from the wedding. When Giles sighed wistfully that he wished he had been there, Buffy dabbed at the tears in her eyes. She wished he could have been there too.

That day they had talked in carefully worded phrases about Angel, tending to stay more on the topic of recent events. As they took a short walk across the field near the cottage, she told him proudly about the coming baby and Angel's endearing over protectiveness. Even wracked with pain he had smiled at her obvious bubbling happiness. He'd been reticent to mention the now noticeable bulge of her stomach, although Olivia laughingly insisted later that Buffy wouldn't have minded a bit. She proudly discussed the growth of her baby.

Olivia stepped forward and tearfully put a small bouquet of red and white roses atop the casket. She held a hand to her mouth and stifled a sob.

Giles had taken to his bed the next day, the pain unmanageable even with the heavy doses of medication - both prescribed and magically self-prescribed - that he imbibed. The next day he emerged, stronger and refreshed as if he only needed rest.  That day he initiated the conversation about Angel's soul. He told her everything; he told her about the change in the curse and his own selfish betrayal that kept it from her and from Angel all these years. They had both cried that day.

The former Watcher clearly did not expect her forgiveness, nor, he said, did he deserve it.  Buffy hugged him tightly and told him that she forgave him anyway. The words that he had said to her once, still echoed clearly in her mind, "To forgive is an act of compassion, Buffy.  It's, it's not done because people deserve it. It's done because they need it."

Unmoving, Buffy watched at they began to lower the casket into the ground. The people around her talked quietly, some sobbed, while others began to drift away. She had no idea who most of them were or how they even knew Giles. It was clear though from the sheer number of people that had turned out, that he had been loved and respected.

There was no doubt that Buffy regretted the choices that had been made, but she forgave him and she told him so. Everyone makes mistakes; it was all part of being human.

The next day it was as if any lingering tension had been lifted. They talked about Spike, his soul and ultimately his demise without judgment or guilt. She told him about the various demons she had encountered in recent years, the activity on the Hellmouth and Connor's new role as guardian. Later that evening Giles excitedly shared with her his latest project: the translation of yet another set of ancient documents that appeared to detail the origins of vampires - and if he were not mistaken, Slayers as well.

Giles had died just before dawn the next morning.

They had five days to cover almost as many years of distance, although realistically their relationship had suffered even years prior to that.  Now, three days later, she watched as he was buried.

Olivia stopped beside her. They were alone now, the sky turning gray as the day faded into evening.

"It meant the world to him that you came and that you forgave him. He had been consumed by guilt and self-recrimination for what he had done. He was deeply sorry."

"I know." Buffy murmured in reply. It was unreal that she would never see him again, never talk to him, never get his advice or opinion on anything. She hadn't in years, of course, but knowing that she could have was very different than him being gone for good.

"He loved you as if you were his own daughter, you know." Olivia said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

"I loved him too."  Buffy replied on a broken breath, a wave of sadness washing over her.

"He can rest in peace now."

They stayed at the cemetery a while longer before they made the walk back to the now strangely empty cottage.

Gunn shook his head and smiled as Angel paced restlessly around the lobby for what had to be the fifth time in the last half hour. The vampire would stop every so often to fidget with case files or other items that sat on the counter, then he would sit down at his desk as if to work, which resulted in the opening and closing of a file or two, then a book and maybe a desk drawer, then he would check the clock on the desk and see that only five minutes had elapsed, after which he would make an impatient sound then rise and pace to the door and start the loop over again.

Buffy had been gone over three weeks and every day the vampire grew edgier and more restless, even though Gunn knew for a fact that Angel talked to his wife each and every day. Today was probably the worst day yet, with Buffy's flight due back at just after four in the afternoon. Unable to sleep during the day as he usually did, Angel had been prowling around the Hyperion since around ten a.m. 

When Buffy left for London, she had planned to stay only a week in order to make her peace with Giles. After Giles' death, Buffy changed her plans and stayed for a while to mourn her former mentor with his widow and help her to clear his things. Several boxes of ancient texts and manuscripts had arrived at the Hyperion yesterday; things that had belonged to Giles that Olivia insisted they have.

It was almost six o'clock before the bright yellow taxi stopped outside the Hyperion. Pacing like a caged animal behind the door, Angel watched as the driver walked around to the trunk and began unloading bags. Buffy's blond hair gleamed in the sunlight as she exited the car to pay him.

Angel growled in frustration, unable to go even the few feet out the door to greet her. Gunn, knowing the vampire's dilemma, went out to carry in Buffy's bags.

Just as she stepped through the door, she was swept up in a pair of strong arms.  Angel hugged her tightly then held her at arms length, gazing at her intently as though assessing her appearance.

"What's wrong?" Buffy smiled and held her hand up to her hair. "Funny plane hair?"

He shook his head, his eyes now riveted on her stomach. The baby had grown noticeably in the three weeks she had been gone. Noticeably, at least, to someone who had measured such a thing with a careful touch every day prior to her departure for London.

"You've forgotten in three weeks what I look like?"  She asked, glancing up at his face.

Another small shake of his head.  He attempted to squash the lusty thoughts that he wasn't at all sure he should be having right now. The weeks of abstinence had only enhanced his usually strong desire for her.

"Oh." She small sound escaped her lips and she smiled playfully. She realized then the direction of his thoughts. She slid her hands up his chest over his shoulders to twine around his neck. She toyed with the soft strands of his hair that curled at his nape.

"You haven't even kissed me yet." She pouted with a small moue, her eyes locked with his.

He kissed her then, thoroughly and completely, in full view of Fred and Gunn and a new client that had wandered through the door only minutes ago. 

"Now." She purred, nipping at his ear, "Take me upstairs and make love to me."

"I missed you." Buffy said a few minutes later as he set her on her feet in their bedroom. She tilted her head to give him better access to her neck as he licked delicately at her throbbing pulse.

Her dress pooled at her feet as Angel pushed it off her shoulders, her other clothing following as he undressed her with smooth, impatient motions. Pulling her back against his chest, he ran his hands lightly over her bare stomach.  Leaning her head back against him, Buffy closed her eyes. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wiggled against the hard length of his erection now pressing into her behind.

"You were gone?" He questioned teasingly as one large hand drifted upward to cup her breast, his thumb lazily drawing circles around her silk covered nipple. He nipped at her neck again, tampering back his hunger for her.

"Hey!" Buffy rolled in his arms to face him. "You missed me. Admit it." She began unbuttoning his shirt with deft fingers.

"I did." He whispered against her lips as he pulled her closer for a kiss. Buffy sighed and leaned into him, opening her mouth as his tongue gently traced her lips before probing inside. Slanting her head, she invited his tongue deeper into her mouth, sucking it softly.  Twining her arms around his neck again, she stretched upward fitting her nearly nude body against him, delighting in the feel of his bare chest against the now aching tips of her breasts.

Breaking the kiss, she sighed against his lips, "I want you." She tugged on his belt, pulling him toward the bed. She lay down and watched as Angel undressed, licking her lips unconsciously at the sight of his sexy, half-naked body. She held out her arms to him, feeling a surge of unassuaged lust streak through her body. Three weeks without him, without this had been much too long.

Moving toward the bed, Angel gently lifted her foot, kissing her toes and biting the pads gently. His hand slid upward, along her calves caressing and massaging gently. His lips followed his hands, leaving a trail of kisses along her lower legs. Slowly he inched upward, stroking her thighs and parting her legs.  His lips and tongue followed his hands, kissing and licking a slow, wet path up her thighs.

Buffy stirred restlessly on the bed, her hips rising in invitation to him as his hands and mouth drew closer to her wet sex.

"Let me show you how much I missed you."  His fingers lightly traced her pouty folds, sliding easily through the lush profusion of wetness.

"Oooohh, yess." Buffy moaned as his tongue swept over the taut nub of her clit, lapped softly and withdrew.  She whimpered softly, lifting her hips and arching toward him.

"That's my girl." He licked her again, slowly, leisurely as if savoring her taste.

Buffy let out a soft exhalation of breath along with a whine, "An-gell."

Using his fingers, his lips and his tongue he explored her plump luscious folds, moving at a leisurely pace intended to prolong the exquisite sensations. With his thumb, he applied pressure to the sensitive nub of her clit, rubbing it firmly before sucking it into his mouth.

At the first tugging pressure, Buffy felt her orgasm begin, the sensations exploding within her. She keened softly then collapsed back on the bed, panting heavily.

Buffy stirred, opening her eyes as she felt Angel's lips gently pressing kisses to the rounded curve of her stomach. He smiled up at her and crawled up her body.

Her breasts were noticeably fuller now with her pregnancy. He cupped them in his large palms, stroking gently before leaning down to lick tenderly at the hard tips of her nipples.

Buffy moaned softly and tugged at his hair, wanting the firm, sucking pressure of his mouth on the sensitive tips instead of the gentle licks. Instead, he continued a path upward with his lips, kissing the curve of her shoulder, the scar on her neck. Settling between her legs, he eased inside her gently, as if she might break.  Supporting his weight on his elbows and knees, he began to move slowly, tenderly. Her erect nipples teased the hardness of his chest, her breasts moving against him as she stroked his back.

Angel moved with cautious, gentle motions, murmuring love words softly against her ear as he withdrew. Unfamiliar with making love during pregnancy, he was reluctant to drive into her as his body feverishly demanded.

"More, baby." Buffy whispered huskily, rocking her hips insistently against his and attempting to force the pace. "Harder."

"The baby," he whispered, the prospect of fatherhood much more prominent in his mind with the rounded curve of her stomach, the increased size of her breasts. His unease with the nuances of making love was natural. His familiarity with pregnant women was limited.

"I'm fine." She insisted.

"You're sure?" He hands drifted over her gently, carefully.

"Yes." She replied impatiently, pushing him off and rolling to her knees. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her voice a husky whisper. "And I'll be much better soon if you do what I know you know how to do best."

At his hesitation, she parted her legs further and reminded him in a seductive murmur that she wasn't fragile; she was healthy, young and much too aroused to be treated with such gentleness.

His chest was cool against her back as he eased slowly inside her, gentle still despite her reassurances. She moved back anxiously into the solid hard wall of his body, her desire overwrought from the weeks apart. She sighed blissfully as he filled her a few more inches.

When he moved away she whimpered in protest only to release another breathy sigh as he slid inside her again, this time with slightly more force. Reaching under her, he cupped her breasts in his hands and pulled her closer.

Her hips moving with impatient demand, Buffy reached between her legs to feel the velvety hard shaft moving in and out of her body, her fingers alternately teasing him and her own swollen flesh.

Angel felt himself lengthen at her touch. After a few more fevered strokes, he gripped her hips tightly and held himself motionless as he swelled inside her, his climax washing over him with savage ferocity.

Her breath ragged, Buffy moved feverishly beneath him as one hand slid from her breasts to the taut swollen nub of her clit. He massaged her expertly.

Buffy released a soft keening cry of contentment as he gathered her close.

She was home. They were together. Paradise had returned. 

Whenever possible that summer, Buffy and Angel snuck away to the sanctuary of their beach house, the place that they had both begun to think of as home. When they weren't working on cases, they took long walks along the beach after sunset, they read books together, played cards, and of course, spent time creatively exploring the nuances of physical pleasure.

Buffy put her hand on her back and eased herself down on the couch next to Angel. He glanced nervously at her large stomach and tired face. The unusually warm fall weather was making her miserable, and even now, just after dawn, the house was already uncomfortably warm.  They had just returned from what had become their usual pre-dawn walk along the beach, Buffy unable to sleep and insistent upon getting out of the house for a little while each day. Besides, she had heard that walking had been known to induce labor and she was more than ready.

"Ugh." She murmured, her hands caressing the large mound of her stomach beneath the pale blue t-shirt as she sank back into the sofa. The baby kicked vigorously again. "Your son is lively this morning."

"Or daughter." He angled himself on the wide couch and lifted her to sit between his legs. With one hand between them, he began to rub her lower back. She sighed and leaned back heavily to rest against his cool chest. It was a months old argument: Buffy insistent that the baby was a boy, Angel uncertain but equally open to considering the possibility that the babe would be a girl.

"I think he wants out." Buffy insisted as Angel's hand settled on her stomach, caressing and feeling the movements of the child. He smiled when the baby kicked again, his hand still and possessive on her belly.

"And I'm so ready for him to meet his father." Buffy sighed again and wiggled slightly to make herself more comfortable. She blew a hair away from her face and then frowned down at her protruding stomach. "My skin is about to burst and I waddle like a duck."

Angel chuckled and kissed the top of her head, "You make a beautiful duck. I like the orange feet particularly."

Buffy groaned softly and giggled, "If they're orange then I'm glad I can't see them. Orange - feet or otherwise - is so not my color."

Another sharp kick under his hand made him frown. He worried constantly now that they were so close to her due date. He left her side only when he absolutely had to go out for more celery, cream cheese, peanut butter, chocolate or cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip ice cream to satisfy one of her many cravings in those instances when the delivery service wasn't able to get there soon enough for her. He simply could not refuse her when she pouted; her quivering lower lip was definitely a weakness of his that she knew how to exploit.

He held her as they lazily dozed on the sofa that warm September morning. Buffy, in her typically uncomfortable state as of late, barely aware of the repetitive tightening of her stomach that was gradually increasing in frequency.

"Oh!" Buffy's mouth opened in a small 'O' as a stronger, longer contraction seized her, jarring her awake almost an hour later. "I don't think I was kidding earlier, he really does want out." 

Instantly alert at the sudden tension in her body, Angel's first panic stricken reaction was that he should never have given in to her wish to stay at the beach house. The Hyperion had sewer access; he could have taken her immediately to the hospital despite what he knew would be her wishes to the contrary. Here, he would have to wait until dark or risk a run through the sunlight.

They both quietly counted the seconds until another contraction tightened her stomach just under 15 minutes later.

Buffy turned her head and smiled up at him excitedly, "I think it's starting, Angel!" A sense of elation coursed through her at the thought of finally holding her baby in her arms. She relaxed back against him happily and waited with hopeful expectation for the next contraction.

Months ago, when Buffy had informed him that she wanted to have the baby at home, Angel had stared at her as if she had grown two heads. She had come into his office at the Hyperion that afternoon almost casually, but with a gleam in her eye that made him immediately suspect that she was up to something. First she handed him a decorative gift bag, which he opened to find a book titled, "She's Having a Baby: And I'm Having a Breakdown".  He looked at her with lifted eyebrows, then she rapidly told him of her decision. Before he could even form a reply to her blurted out statement, she calmly and logically laid out her reasons; she said she would rather have the baby at home than anywhere without him, then she mentioned the benefits of natural childbirth in a familiar and comfortable environment as if she had memorized a brochure.

Moving around his desk to stand between his legs as he turned to face her, she leaned on the arms of the chair and batted her lashes at him. He knew then that he was in trouble. This was an argument she did not intend to lose. She continued her line of reasoning with the fact that she still had her Slayer strength and healing abilities and if normal women have babies at home, then there was no reason that she couldn't too. Physically, she had an advantage. She dropped in his lap then, her fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt as she looked up at him innocently with wide green eyes.  Besides, she hated hospitals. Why would she want to have their baby there? She'd be frightened and tense, which couldn't possibly be good for the baby. Right? 

Staring down into her expectant expression, he couldn't find the words to disagree. Then, to seal her argument, she sprang up from his lap and opened the office door to admit Bronwyn Verwoerd, a midwife recently moved to LA from Amsterdam, where home births are more the norm.

Unable to refute her arguments with Bronwyn looking on patiently, Angel greeted the woman politely and offered her a chair. Buffy then sat on the arm of his chair, her arm on his shoulder and absently stroking the back of his neck with her fingers as she encouraged Bronwyn to tell them about her experience and recommendations.

A tall confident blonde with years of training as both a midwife and nurse practitioner, Bronwyn's calm and knowledgeable demeanor did much to reassure Angel that it was reasonable and safe to have the baby at home. She met with them several times over the next few weeks, providing them with the basic instructions of what they needed to know and how to prepare and discussing any concerns. When Buffy's labor began, they were instructed to call her and she would come immediately.

Right then, however, Angel cursed softly for leaving his phone upstairs and debated disturbing Buffy who seemed so happily content at the moment and almost dozing. He had read everything he could, had memorized much of the information in fact. Still, at this very moment, he felt inadequately prepared.

After another few minutes of deliberation, he swept Buffy up in his arms and carried her upstairs to their bed. The sterilized towels, water and other instruments were in place just as Bronwyn had instructed.

"I love you." He murmured softly, dropping a kiss on her head and settling her on the bed. Mentally he searched for his phone until he remembered that he had left it across the room on the dresser. Buffy clutched at his hand when he started to go get it so he paused. "Buffy, sweet, I need to call Bronwyn now. Unless you'd rather go to the hospital."

Reluctantly she released him, sticking out her tongue as he crossed the room and retrieved the phone, immediately dialing the number he had programmed into his phone months ago. Bronwyn answered on the third ring. Recognizing Angel's voice, she asked a few key questions about Buffy's contractions then assured him that she would come right away. She was in Santa Barbara teaching a class but should have no problem finding someone to take over for her.

Angel ended the call and dropped the phone on the table next to the bed. Repressing a frustrated sigh that help was so far away, he knelt down by the bed next to his wife.

Buffy gasped as another strong contraction shook her, squeezing his hand. He was with her, she was healthy and strong and that's all that mattered.  Angel murmured encouraging words of love, smiling at her or kissing her and encouraging her to breathe each time to help take away the piercing pain.

They monitored Buffy's contractions while they waited and with each passing minute Angel considered the idea of calling Gunn and having him take Buffy to the hospital, wanting only the best medical care for his wife and baby.

When her water broke a short while later, her contractions growing steadily closer, he felt another wave of panic. Where the hell was Bronwyn?  He glanced at the clock. She should be here by now. Damn. How were they going to manage this?  Suddenly everything he had read about what could go wrong during childbirth flitted terrifyingly through his mind.

"Oh, Angel. We're having a baby," Buffy excitedly murmured, her voice broken in the middle by another intense contraction. "Maybe the only baby. Sorry." She squeezed her eyes tightly against the pain. "I'm not sure I want to do this again - ever." 

"You're doing great, love." Angel whispered, his words low against her ear as he smoothed the tendrils of hair away from her face. "Remember now, breathe."  He smiled at her, suppressing his fears along with pangs of guilt that he was responsible for her pain. His fingers gently stroked her now sweat soaked brow and he felt the tension within her ease a little between the bursts of pain.

Buffy gritted her teeth with each new contraction and gripped Angel's hand with nearly crushing strength. He glanced longingly at his phone. He wanted to call Bronwyn again - or maybe an ambulance now - but didn't dare take his attention off his wife for even take the few minutes that it would take.

Buffy bore down as their son began to push himself into the world. She screamed then as the pain reached an entirely new zenith.

Angel, still gripped by panic, forced his words to be soothing. "You're doing great, love. Breathe."  He was terrified for maybe the first time in his life. He could lose her.

Buffy was panting, her hands now gripping the sheets tightly with each painful clawing contraction as their baby slid free and into his father's hands. With quick efficiency, Angel tied off the umbilical cord as Bronwyn had instructed and wiped the baby's face with a soft, sterilized towel. Letting out a short soft cry followed by a sigh, the infant drifted off to sleep as his father held him with trembling hands.

Angel grinned at the tiny baby, his joy overwhelming. He was small, perfect. Content and placid, lazily making small sucking motions with his mouth and his eyes tightly closed, the baby seemed immune to the world he just entered.

"Let me. see him." Buffy breathed tiredly from the bed.

"We have a son." Angel wrapped the baby in a warm fluffy towel and laid him in the crook of Buffy's arm.

"I told you it was a boy." She smiled, reaching her hand to touch the perfection of the tiny features, the thick crop of dark hair. Her eyes were soft with love. "He's a beautiful baby, isn't he?"

"Yes, love. He's a miracle." Angel's joy in that moment was boundless, and he knew without a doubt that had he been able to lose his soul due to perfect happiness it would have been long gone. He touched Buffy's face gently, "A miracle that came into my life. Like you."

He kissed her sweetly, tenderly. In that moment if he could have given her the world and the sun and the stars then he would have. She was his heart; inhabiting his soul. Without a doubt, she was more important to him than his own life. He kissed her again with a quiet intensity that sang through both their senses.

 "Angel?" Her voice was soft, tired. Her eyes closed wearily.  "I love you."

The door opened downstairs and rushing footsteps sounded on the stairs. Bronwyn skidded to a stop just inside the door, a harried look on her face. "There was an accident on the 405, so I got off the freeway and then got lost." She stopped abruptly and smiled. "I'm too late, aren't I?"

Angel returned her smile and proudly showed off his son.

Bronwyn examined the baby first, noting his length and weight on a small card, then checked on Buffy. The almost 9 pound baby was large for such a petite woman, so she was relieved that there had apparently been no complications and that both mother and baby were fine.

Angel bathed a very tired Buffy with quick efficiency while Bronwyn cleaned up and changed the sheets on the bed. Kissing his wife gently on the brow, he dressed her in a simple nightshirt and settled her back in the freshly cleaned bed.

Congratulating Angel once again on the arrival of their new baby, Bronwyn departed, leaving the new family alone.

While Buffy slept, Angel carefully bathed his son, marveling at the tiny fingers and toes, the thick crop of dark hair on his head. Diapering him and wrapping him in a soft blue blanket that Nikkos and Mona had given them as a gift, the proud father stood at the window and talked to his son, the moon light illuminating one dark head bent over a much, much smaller one.

He talked to the sleeping infant in nonsense and baby words, part English and part Gaelic. He kissed the tiny head softly. If the prophecy were true, this son would grow to be a great warrior. 

When the babe woke a short while later with a screaming demand for food, Angel retrieved him from the bassinette and handed him to Buffy, who blushingly held him to her breast.

Angel watched them, his dark eyes intent on the scene of mother and child. Both his. It was a feeling so powerful he had to resist pulling them both into his arms. He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed.

"What did you want to name him?" Buffy asked, stroking the cap of fluffy dark hair on the baby's head. They had talked about names, several in fact, but hadn't settled on one.

"Brendan?" He suggested, his gaze once more on his son now suckling greedily.

"Brendan Patrick." Buffy agreed with a smile.

The house hummed with activity over the next few days as everyone came to see the new baby and offer their congratulations to his parents.

Nikkos and Mona were near constant fixtures at the house, having deemed themselves the baby's official godparents. Fred, Gunn and Amelia came often as well. Amelia, who was now walking, seemed to be fascinated by the small baby.

When Connor and Dawn arrived from Sunnydale along with Willow and Jessie, the women immediately rushed over to the basket where the baby slept while Connor hung back near the door. Although they had talked on the phone, he'd seen less of his father over the past two months, Angel overprotective of his pregnant wife and unwilling to leave her along for even a short trip. Equally, he worried that taking her along would be too much stress for her or the baby so he often made excuses that kept them close to home.  Now that Angel had a son with Buffy, insecurities about his place in his father's life surfaced.

Seeing Connor's hesitation, Buffy crossed the room and greeted him affectionately with a hug. "We've missed you! You and Dawnie don't come to see us often enough."

When Dawn's spring semester ended at U. Mass, she returned home to Sunnydale claiming that she was homesick and missed her friends and family. Buffy, aware of the real reason for Dawn's transfer to UC Sunnydale, withheld her skeptical comments. By the time classes started in the fall, Dawn had moved in with Connor and the two of them were inseparable.

"I know." He replied sheepishly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking down at the toes of his shoes. 

"Are things really busy there?  The Hellmouth-" Buffy questioned earnestly, genuinely concerned. The sound of her son, now crying loudly, drew her attention and she glanced across the room.

"No. No, it's fine." The young man returned quickly. He knew that both his father and stepmother would rush to Sunnydale to help if they thought he needed it. "The Hellmouth is fine that is. We just- we really don't really get out that much."

"Ah." Buffy suddenly smiled in understanding. She suspected that the young couple, much like she and Angel, preferred each other's company to most anything else and were content to spend their free time together, just the two of them.

Connor blushed slightly confirming Buffy's suspicions.  Across the room, Dawn laughed as Angel teased her about making the baby cry. With a smile, he scooped Brendan out of his basket. Secure in his father's arms, the babe quieted immediately.  The proud father said something more to Willow and Jessie to which they smilingly replied then he crossed the room.

He greeted Connor warmly, genuinely happy to see his son. "Did you want to see your brother?"

Connor's eyes flicked from the baby to his father's then back to the baby again. He answered hesitantly, "I . yes."

Carefully Angel handed him the small bundle wrapped in a pastel plaid blanket. He studied Connor's expression as the young man looked down at the baby.

"Of course, he's small and helpless. It'll take years before he acquires any useful skills at all." The tall vampire replied blandly, putting one arm around his wife's shoulders.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow at Angel's statement. Normally he went on and on about the absolute perfection of his new son.

"We'll both have to train him to be a warrior, if indeed he is to be one."

"Yes." Connor smiled, his eyes lighting up as he looked down at his brother who was now looking up at him with wide eyes. "We will."

Seven years later.

Buffy paused in her packing and cocked her head to one side. She stood still, listening. The constant chatter that had been coming from the room next door had suddenly stopped. In most cases silence wasn't worrisome, but with her two boys it typically meant that they were up to something.  Quietly she crept toward the door. 

"You'd better put it back, Bren. We're gonna get in trouble." Hearing the loud childish whisper from her youngest son, Buffy picked up her pace.

"I'm just lookin' you big scaredy cat. Dad says we can look at stuff."

"Not that stuff." The dark haired young boy insisted. "That's his like special stuff."

Buffy crossed the threshold of the doorway to see her oldest, Brendan, clinging precariously to fourth shelf of the tall bookcases in Angel's study with one hand. In his other hand, he clutched a black velvet bag.  Standing directly beneath him, Ryan watched his brother with doubtful eyes.

Both boys were mirror images of their father with the exception of their eyes. Brendan had his mother's large mossy green eyes while Ryan's were an unusual golden color. At seven and five, they were already showing signs of following their father in size as well, both tall for their age. And, like their parents, they were both preternaturally strong.

"Boys, what are you doing?" Buffy questioned with what she hoped was a stern tone of voice.

The mischievous twosome had a habit of unknowingly stirring up trouble. Remarkably precocious and clever, not to mention seemingly endowed with some sort of mystical propensity, they had once opened a portal to another dimension while visiting Nikkos with their father at the magic shop. It had taken both vampire and warlock to close the gateway before any demons crossed over, and had led to one of the boys' first experiences at being on the receiving end of their father's anger - something neither of them preferred to see again.

Two pairs of eyes swung around to the door. Buffy watched as the glass orb slipped from the bag in Brendan's hand and fell in what seemed to be slow motion toward the floor.  It landed on the thick Turkish rug with a soft thud, bounced slightly then rolled gently along the floor to stop next to Ryan's feet.

Buffy released the breath she had been holding and crossed the room. Brendan jumped down from the shelf and looked curiously at the object now held in his younger brother's hand.

"Hey look, Mom." Ryan rolled the orb in his hand, staring at the unusual shapes and colors through the thick glass. "Coooool."

"Boys, you know you're not supposed to be climbing on those shelves." With a small shake of her head, Buffy held her hand out. Ryan grudgingly handed over the giant marble, even as Brendan tried to get a closer look.

Upon examining the glass object, it appeared to be undamaged, except for a tiny chip on one side. Inside the orb, the muddy sand-like mist clouding the object began to clear.

Buffy peered into the glass curiously.  A large larvae-like creature appeared to ooze across the sandy surface inside the orb, its sides heaving as it labored to cross the barren ground. Thick brown hair covered the glistening, almost oily looking surface of the creature's head and upper torso. On it's back there were two large baskets that appeared to contain excrement and other waste. One demon marched behind the creature, cracking a whip. Another demon, one stone like and faintly familiar, walked beside the large larvae-beast carrying a shovel. Filthy, disgusting demons of all types roamed back and forth between the stone caverns on one end and the rock-like city on the other, some of them stopping to laugh and point at the creature, others to perform vile acts simply to torment the beast.  When the larvae-like being turned around, Buffy gasped in surprised recognition.

"What Mom? What'd you see? Huh?"  At the small sound from their mother, Ryan and Brendan craned their necks and tried to see in the glass orb again. Brendan made to move to climb up on Angel's desk only to drop back to the floor at his mother's stern look. "Huh? What is it?"

"It's nothing, honey." Buffy once more peered closely into the glass object to confirm her suspicions. If she was not mistaken, the creature was none other than Cordelia. It had been years since the former May queen had even crossed her mind.  The stone looking creature next to her must be. Skip. The demon guide that had come to the Hyperion all those years ago!  So this is what had become of them - confined to a hell dimension, Cordelia in her demon form.

"All ready to go?" Angel questioned from the doorway, carrying his tiny daughter who was now dressed in a pink floral sun suit. Almost six months old, Brianna was tiny, pink and blonde and the apple of her father's eye. She often slept protectively cradled against his strong arm, oblivious to the people and events around her as he worked around the office or at home.

Born breech at almost eight weeks premature, she had given her father a scare that he was likely never to forget - and on a date that changed his life - all their lives - forever. 

They had all been returning from the beach one evening late. Brendan and Ryan had raced a few feet ahead, while Angel walked beside his pregnant wife. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a Mohra demon raced toward them, it's sword aimed at Brendan who had stopped to examine the small anthill on the edge of the sidewalk. Without a second thought, both Buffy and Angel sprinted toward their sons. Angel, unencumbered, arrived first and swept the child out of the way while Buffy, much to her husband's dismay, kicked the sword out of the demon's hand then struck him hard in the jaw with her fist.

Striking back, the demon landed a hard blow to her protruding stomach that sent her tumbling to the ground in pain. The Mohra demon laughed as he turned to face Angel who was torn between helping his wife and protecting his children. Anticipating the direction of her husband's thoughts, Buffy bit her lip to hide the piercing pain and rose to her feet.

Pulling out an ornate jeweled medallion, the Mohra demon began chanting an incantation in an ancient demonic language. A fissure began to form in the sky as the gates of hell began to open. The Mohra was only the first; he was sent to find the prophecized warriors, kill them and then open the gates of hell. Hell's army would soon overrun the earth.

Ryan and Brendan, thinking only that the stupid green thing had harmed their mother, fearlessly charged around their father and began kicking the Mohra demon furiously and hitting him with their small fists. The demon swiped at them angrily, but fortunately missed landing even a single blow.

Angel yelled for his sons to get back as he dove for the fallen sword. He whirled around and rose to his feet quickly, kicking the demon from behind and sending him sprawling to the ground. With the demon now close to his size, Brendan yanked the medallion out of the Mohra's hand with preternatural speed then turned and ran, Ryan following close behind his brother.

Buffy screamed at them to stop as the boys ran toward the gradually widening fissure. Another pain ripped through her and she stumbled, falling to her knees.

With his features shifting to that of the demon, Angel crushed the Mohra's head beneath his foot ruthlessly, grinding the jewel from his forehead into dust.  Before the demon even began to disintegrate, the vampire shouted and ran after his sons, now perilously close to the bright opening. Demons began to impatiently squeeze out of the gap, dropping to the ground near the two boys. Over the force of the wind, Ryan was yelling, "Throw it in! Throw it in!" as loud as he could at his brother. Brendan threw the medallion as hard as he could into the opening, the boys dodging the demons that were escaping through the partially opened gates.

Immediately the fissure began to close. Demons screamed and shrieked as they were sucked back through the portal or crushed by the closing aperture. The two small boys held on to each other as they were almost sucked in by the force of the whirlwind before their father snatched them up and swept them a short distance away. With a barked instruction to stay there, Angel moved quickly back to fight his way through the escaped demons to reach his wife.  Buffy had come to her feet and, despite the pain nearly ripping her in half, helped Angel dispatch the remaining demons.

Rushing toward his wife who had once more fallen to her knees clutching her stomach, Angel was suddenly struck by what appeared to be a bolt of lightning. The jolt sent him flying several feet through the air and into the sand. As he struggled to his feet in confusion, a force of energy swept through him.  The sound of his heartbeat swelled in his ears and he gasped for breath. Another burst of lightning struck followed by a thunderclap and it suddenly began to rain.

A few minutes later, a now human Angel rushed his wife to the hospital, his two sons trailing behind him as he carried Buffy swiftly into the emergency room. Despite their fears for their mother, the boys waited stoically in the nurse's station until Nikkos and Mona arrived after receiving Angel's frantic call.  After the initial outburst of excited panic followed by a soothing cup of hot chocolate, they shared their story of the events at the beach, complete with a reenactment. When Mona asked how they knew about the medallion or what to do with it, the two boys shared a look and shrugged with childish assurance. Their answer was the same, "We just did." 

In a twist of ironic fate, Angel thought he was going to lose his wife and his daughter the very day he had been given his humanity.  Buffy panicked so badly at the initial realization that they were in the hospital that Angel had to hold her to the bed even as he snapped at the doctors to do something to help his obviously terrified and in pain wife. The doctors tried to stop her contractions but when her water broke, they had to deliver the baby, ready or not. Buffy's normally superior strength waned and her pulse dropped dangerously low several times during the ordeal, as did Brianna's, scaring Angel beyond anything he had ever known. His own new heartbeat raced in unfamiliar panic as he fearfully held on to his wife's hand. After five very nerve-wracking, roller coaster ride hours, Brianna was gently turned and born naturally. Tiny and fragile, she fit in the cradle of her father's palms. The doctor smilingly pronounced both mother and baby tired but healthy. 

Needless to say, that had been a very big day for their family.

"Yes." Buffy smiled and dropped the orb back in the velvet bag she retrieved from Brendan's hand. She put the bag in Angel's desk drawer. Her heart still fluttered like a young girl's at the sight of her husband, not at all like a respectable mother of three.

"Let's go. On the way to the beach, I'll tell you what your sons did." Looping her arm through Angel's, she glanced down affectionately but sternly at her two boys. "And we can decide how they should be punished this time."

Angel dropped a kiss on Buffy's hair. Although they had been married for years, he found he loved his wife more deeply now than he ever thought possible. His ardor for her had not diminished either, his human stamina on par with his former vampire resilience, as he most diligently proved on a regular basis.

"We took away their weapons last time." Buffy mused as they made their way into the kitchen. She picked up the picnic basket she had been packing earlier. Their afternoons at the beach were one of Angel's favorite pastimes now; he often sketched while the kids played and Buffy read. Other times, he simply basked in the sun with hedonistic pleasure.

"But Moooommmm." Brendan and Ryan pleaded in unison, following their parents out the door.

"I hear whining. Do you hear whining?" Angel murmured, shifting his daughter to his other arm as she gurgled contently over his shoulder. He laced his fingers with Buffy's as they turned the corner toward the beach.

"Mmm. definite whining." Buffy leaned her head against Angel's shoulder as they walked down the beach and into the sunset.

"Did I tell you today that I loved you?" He glanced down at his wife adoringly.

"No. But you can show me. later." Buffy smiled in reply, her voice lowering intimately.

He smiled. He couldn't imagine a life any better than this.

 

 

Epilogue

 

Giles' translation of the prophecy of course turned out to be true, although the literal interpretation would never have led any of them to suspect that "the battle which would close the gates of hell" fought by the "ensouled vampire alongside the Slayer and their chosen offspring" thus earning Angel his redemption had meant their "offspring" would be children at the time. Although no one was complaining.

Brendan and Ryan had been practically inseparable since Ryan's birth. They seemed to be magically bonded in a way that no one else understood. Throughout college they stayed close, both attending colleges on the east coast that were close enough for them to get together fairly often. Brendan went to Brown and studied history and philosophy when he wasn't playing lacrosse and rugby, while Ryan got his law degree at NYU.

Both boys returned to LA after college, preferring the west coast and the closer proximity to their family. Brendan eventually settled into an exclusive relationship with a young woman named Claire, while Ryan seemed content to cut a wide and profligate path through the eligible young beauties of LA.

Even human, Angel retained most of his preternatural abilities, such as his enhanced senses and his strength.  He and Buffy continued to run Angel Investigations until their two sons were old enough to take over the business, which they did eagerly.

Brianna preferred her art to slaying or battling the supernatural; after attending the Sorbonne to study art, she spent two years in Ireland working as a designer for a textile company while developing an extensive portfolio - photography and sketches - based on the beauty of Ireland. She returned to Los Angeles and opened her own gallery, where she featured, in addition to her own work, many other prominent and well-known artists - including her father.

Dawn and Connor married and had two children. They still live in Sunnydale, although the Hellmouth is largely quiet.  Dawn graduated from UC Sunnydale with a degree in Marketing; she works for a start-up software company and is considered mostly inept by her coworkers but her manager has a weakness for attractive women, so her incompetence is tolerated. Connor opened a self-defense studio to encourage the population of Sunnydale to learn how to defend themselves.

Fred and Gunn decided that the demon hunting business was much too dangerous with children; they moved to Texas with their two children, Ameila and Charles Jr., and opened a restaurant.

Cordelia and Skip are still trapped in the demon dimension that they had earned, at least according to the judgment of the powers - or Nikkos, whoever you believe had more of a hand in their fate. The orb has long been tucked away in a box in a rarely used room at the Hyperion.

The Mohra's impatience to open the gates had proved his undoing.  Had he killed the warriors as he had been instructed before opening the gates, the plan might have been successful. It would be dozens of years before another key would be found to try again. but that is a whole other story.

 

The End

 

 

More Author's Notes:  

Brendan's birth part of the story is loosely based on a true story; although she had her baby actually in Amsterdam. *g*  Brianna's is very loosely based on an actual story that appears on iVillage.com.

"She's Having a Baby: And I'm Having a Breakdown" is by James Douglas Barron.

Dawn's future is actually based on a coworker in my RL! (I kid you not!)

 

 

 

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