Smoke and Mirrors

by Isis FG

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Part 11
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The watch on her wrist told Buffy it was nearly nine at night by the time she and Angel finally got back to her apartment. To her, it felt more like midnight. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. As if her day hadn't been freaking weird enough already, what with the whole unbelievable-but-shouldn't-have-happened-sex-with-Angel-on-the-kitchen-table thing, it was topped off with another attack from the lunatic who had a hard-on for her. Yeah, today had just not been her day.

After they'd discovered the damage done to her car, Angel had called in Faith and a tech team to gather evidence. As usual, nothing was found to give them any clues as to the freak's identity. That didn't stop the investigators from scouring every inch of ground for over an hour, and then questioning her and Angel about their activities leading up to finding her tires destroyed. And then after that was done, she couldn't even go home because her car was fucked.

Angel must have sensed her disintegrating patience and growing fatigue because he took charge of handling her car. Any other time, Buffy would not have ceded control, but at that point, she just hadn’t cared. The decision had been a good one since Angel had called in a favor and gotten her car towed and fixed right away. That had taken up another hour and a half.

Now she was home, and all she wanted to do was draw her curtains, shut off every light, and crawl into bed. Angel, though, appeared to have other ideas about what she should do. She scowled at him. Whatever was about to pop out of his mouth, she really, really did not want to hear it. And she would tell him just that.

“Buffy,” Angel began.

Uh oh, here it comes. Just as she thought. “I'm going to bed, Angel,” she shot out quickly. “I'm going to put on my yummy sushi pj's and wait for a visit from Mr. Sandman.”

“But we-”

“I'm. Going. To. Bed.” Period. The end. No ifs, ands, or buts. Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

“I-”

“Goodnight!” she cut him off again, then stomped down the hallway and into her room, slamming her door behind her.

Once inside her bedroom, Buffy winced and realized that perhaps she'd been a little harsh. She couldn't help it. Every neuron in her brain seemed to be shutting down. Not that that was surprising with everything that had happened to her recently. At the moment, all of it seemed to be catching up with her all at once; the break-in, the messed up poster, the harassment, her car, Angel, sex with Angel, talking with Angel, and everything in between.

Groaning, Buffy flopped onto her bed. Her head was pounding fiercely and her eyes were aching. A small voice in her head told her she should go out and apologize to Angel for snapping at him, but she couldn't muster the energy to move even a toe. She didn't exactly want to see Angel right now, anyway. It had been hard enough being around him all day after what they'd done in the kitchen. Just the memory sent shivers down her spine.

God! She'd had sex with Angel! On the kitchen table! Well, okay, she had to admit that the use of the table wasn't all that strange. Back in Sunnydale they'd gone at it in a number of places besides a bed. There'd been that one night where they'd gone for a walk in the park and...

No! Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. She was NOT going to think about sex with Angel. That was bad. Bad, bad, bad. But it was also oh, so good.

With a disgusted sigh, Buffy curled up into a ball, wishing the memories away. Thinking about Angel, their past, or any possible future was useless. A completely futile gesture. The best thing she could do would be to forget about what they'd done this morning and try to ignore Angel's presence. She'd managed to keep him from telling her this morning was a mistake. All she had to do was keep avoiding it. Angel would be gone soon, anyway. Or at least whenever they caught the sicko who was after her.

Yes, that's what she'd do: ignore it. Ignore it and it'll go away. But wait, she wondered vaguely as she drifted off to sleep, wasn't the saying something like 'ignoring something won't make it go away'? Yeah, that was probably it. Didn't that just figure?

{====^====}

As Buffy was off in her bedroom visiting dream-land, Angel remained standing in the living room exactly where'd he'd been when Buffy had stormed off ten minutes earlier. What the hell had that been about, he wondered. She hadn't let him get a word out. Come to think of it, she'd been like that all day.

Ever since they'd slept together just that morning.

Angel rolled his head around, trying to loosen his tense muscles. Could things possibly get any more screwed up? Probably. It was always possible for things to get worse. Right now, he just couldn't see how. He'd slept with Buffy. Now Buffy was barely talking to him. And on top of that, he still had no leads on catching the creep stalking her.

There wasn't anything he could do about the girl, or guy, after Buffy at the moment. It also didn't seem like there was anything he could do about things between him and Buffy. She'd run away from him like he had Ebola and was ready to sneeze on her. Angel contemplated going after her, but he didn't think that was such a good idea. Buffy looked about ready throw something at him before she'd taken off. Best wait till morning.

Angel told himself that, but as he retreated to his room and undressed for bed, he couldn't get what had happened with Buffy off his mind. Giving in to his lust for her had been a bad idea. He knew that, had known that, it just hadn't stopped him from taking her. He was no better than a horny sixteen year old.

God, it had been perfect, though. So perfect. After four years, he'd thought maybe his memories of her, of them together, had been exaggerated. Now he knew they were understated. She was so beautiful. Nothing was as wonderful as making love to her. He'd known that back in Sunnydale. This morning had been different. Better. He'd been with the real Buffy this morning.

Angel had thought his feelings for Buffy – or Lizzie – had died long ago.

Apparently, he was wrong.

{====^====}

The sun was barely over the horizon when Angel found himself standing in Buffy's living room staring out the windows at the just awakening city. He hadn't been able to sleep worth a damn. An hour or so here and there at best. So finally, he'd given up and decided to go make some coffee and find something to do to occupy his mind. The coffee part he'd accomplished. Finding something to do? Not yet.

Watching some television would have been a nice diversion, but when Angel went to turn it on, he came to realize the TV was one thing Buffy had yet to replace from the destruction of the break-in. So that idea was out. All he'd done so far was stare out the window. He wondered if Buffy knew that the guy who lived in one of the apartments across the street tended to walk around naked.

Angel shook his head. What was he doing? Peeping into other people's apartments out of boredom was a bit extreme. The cell phone clipped to his belt vibrated.

“Saved by the bell,” Angel muttered.

He unclipped the phone and flipped it open. “Hello...Faith?” Angel glanced at his watch. “What the hell are you doing up so early?...You might as well come by now....See ya in few.”

Well, that will give him something to do, Angel thought as he shut off the phone and hooked it back into its holder on his belt. Faith was on her way over with some preliminary lab data from the attack on Buffy's car last night. That would definitely help take his mind off his personal relationship – if that's what he had – with Buffy.

It was barely seven a.m. And Faith was already up and about. That was beyond strange. Faith was not a morning person. According to her, though, she'd had to get up a few hours ago for an early morning meeting with an informant about another case. He imagined that hadn't made her too happy.

At the reminder of other cases, Angel felt an odd pang of longing. For the past week, he'd been solely focused on Buffy's situation. He wasn't quite used to working on one case, and only one case. He missed being out and chasing down leads, catching perps. And he missed being at the station and around his colleagues. Protecting Buffy wasn't exactly a bad assignment, though. It was just stretching his nerves a bit thin.

A loud banging on the front door alerted Angel to the fact that Faith had arrived. Why the hell was she pounding? He wasn't freakin' deaf! She was still pounding when he yanked open the door and glared at her.

“Can't you knock like a normal person?” he bitched at her. “I'm sure the whole block heard you!”

“Good morning to you, too,” Faith greeted cheerfully. She looked Angel up and down. “So we're dressed this morning, huh? I guess that means I won't find Buffy's underwear lying on the living room floor this time.”

Heat raced up Angel's neck. He'd left Buffy’s underwear in the kitchen yesterday before he'd made his escape. And Faith had found them. By the evil grin on her face, he'd say she was loving this whole thing.

“The file?” Angel redirected her attention to the information she'd said she was bringing.

“It's right here,” she held it up and waved it in front of him, all the while enjoying the whole situation. She just loved to yank Angel's chain.

“Faith? What are you doing here?” came Buffy's voice from the hallway.

Faith checked her friend out as Buffy walked further into the living room. She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. “No silk robe this morning, B? Gotta say, those sushi jammies are really sexy, though,” she teased. Like Angel, Buffy blushed a deep red at the reminder of the Kitchen Tryst.

“And you're here why?” Buffy shot back, crossing her arms over her chest while trying to keep from dying of embarrassment.

“Prelims on your car,” Faith answered, again waving the file.

“Thanks.” Angel snatched it out of her hand and stalked off to the couch. He dropped down and set the file on the coffee table. “Anything important in it?”

“Not really,” she responded disappointedly. “Only thing the lab nerds know so far is that the cuts were made with an extremely sharp, smooth surface knife. Probably a switchblade.”

“Right,” he nodded as he skimmed through the initial lab findings.

As she stood leaning against the wall, Faith studied both Buffy and Angel. Yeah, there was definitely something going on there. Buffy was standing as far away from Angel as possible, but Faith noticed her eyes kept flicking to the man on the couch. And Angel seemed to be taking great pains at not looking at Buffy. Could they be any more obvious? Wait 'til she played her trump card.

Sauntering over to the chair next to the couch, Faith flopped down and propped her booted feet up on the coffee table. She cocked her head and studied her unpainted fingers nails. “So Angel,” she said casually, “Heard an interesting tid bit at the station just before I came here.”

“Hmm,” Angel mumbled distractedly. What was she going on about?

“Yeah. Ran into the boss-man. He happened to mention that you took vacation time to play Buffy's bodyguard,” she revealed, her eyes sparkling mischievously. And oh, what fun that was!

Angel's hands tensed immediately on the papers he'd been reading. Shit! He'd purposely kept that to himself, knowing how it would probably come off. Now Faith had opened her big, fat mouth and blurted it out. Great. Just great.

“What?” Buffy whipped her head around and stared at Faith, then Angel. “You did what?”

“Thanks, Faith,” he muttered, eyeing her with disdain.

“Angel? Faith?” Buffy said pointedly, waiting for one of them to explain. Angel kept his eyes trained on the papers in his hand.

“Well,” Faith began, seeing that Angel wasn't going to do the honors. “According to the Cap, he agreed that your life was in danger. Problem was that the city couldn't afford to slap one of its officers on you twenty-four/seven. So our buddy Angie here offered to take some unpaid vacation time in order to stick himself to you like glue.”

“You did that?” Buffy said softly, shocked at the knowledge that Angel had done something like that for her.

“I didn't want to see anything happen to you,” he replied, shrugging off the gesture he'd made so many days ago.

Angel still wasn't sure what had made him do it. His boss had agreed that Buffy needed protection; it just hadn't been in the budget. At first he'd hoped someone else would pull bodyguard duty, and he'd be able to keep some space between him and Buffy. The money issue had vetoed that. Unless someone volunteered to do it on their own time, Buffy would remain susceptible to attack. He couldn't stand the idea of her being unprotected, not with someone out to destroy her. So he'd spoken without thinking and said he'd take some of his stock-piled vacation time and do it without pay. The minute the words were out of his mouth, he'd regretted it. But by then, his boss had been all over the idea and put Angel on leave.

“Thank you for doing it,” Buffy said graciously, because despite whatever their personal problems, and whatever had made him offer to do it, she felt safer having Angel around. She hadn't really thought much about that, but it was true.

“So tonight's the big opening, huh?” Faith butted in, deciding she'd stirred up enough trouble for one day. Her work was done for now.

“Yeah.” A smile graced Buffy's face at the thought of her exhibition tonight. She was really looking forward to it.

A thought suddenly occurred to Angel. “Is your family coming?” He hadn't ever met any of them. What were they like?

“Umm, yeah. Giles, Jenny, and Dawn are driving up for it. They got a neighbor to watch the baby,” she answered, still smiling. It had been a while since she'd gotten to see all of them together.

“I'm surprised that they haven't been camping out here with everything that's been goin' on,” Faith pondered aloud. She knew how protective Buffy's family was of her.

Buffy squirmed over Faith's statement. Neither Angel or Faith missed the movement, and both stared at her with narrowed eyes. She was obviously hiding something.

“You didn't tell them, did you?” Faith accused.

No, she hadn't told them. Buffy knew how her family would react if they knew that someone was after her. They'd be all over her like an ant on left-over food. Dawn would want to come back to LA to be here to help her. Giles and Jenny would insist she come back to Sunnydale where they could look after her. Buffy knew they would mean well, but she didn't want them all over her. And she didn't want them to worry.

“I didn't want to freak them out,” she admitted with a sigh.

“You should have told them,” Angel said in a voice that sounded suspiciously fatherly. “They're probably going to find out tonight. How are you going to explain me being there? Or the extra security I called in?”

“We could just tell them you're a friend, and they probably won't notice the security or just think it's something the gallery is doing,” Buffy posed, grasping at straws.

“I won't lie to them, Buffy,” he stated firmly. If anyone knew what lies could do, Buffy should.

“I know, I know,” she grumbled sulkily. Angel was right; she knew that. But she'd be lying if she said she was looking forward to her family finding out about her stalker, especially during the opening. “If they ask, we'll tell them.”

“Okay, kiddies. I'll leave you guys to sort this out. I gotta jet.” Standing, Faith flicked her long hair over her shoulder and took a few steps towards the door. Before going the rest of the way, she paused. “Spike and I will catch up with you at the gallery tonight. Not sure what time we'll get there. You know how much of a pain in the ass he can be about getting somewhere on time.”

Chuckling, Buffy shook her head. “Tell him if he's too late, I'll hide the cocktail weenies.”

“That might do it,” Faith laughed as she reached the door. “Later.”

Buffy and Angel were quiet for a minute after Faith left. They kept their eyes on anything but each other. Finally, Angel shifted in the chair and sneaked a peak at Buffy. “So...what time do we need to go to the gallery?”

“I should be there by four,” she answered, studying her toenails and debating whether she should paint them for the opening. “The show doesn't start until seven-thirty, but I have two interviews to do beforehand. Plus there's some final detail stuff that needs to be done.”

“Interviews?”

“Yeah. One is with a writer for the Arts section of the LA Times, and another works for a small publication that focuses solely on artists of all kinds,” she explained.

“Wow, that's pretty cool,” an amazed Angel said. “I guess I hadn't realized you were that popular as an artist.”

Shrugging off the off-hand praise, Buffy responded, “I got lucky. My Mom had a lot of connections in the art world when she was alive. People still remember her. The owner of the gallery my exhibition is in was a classmate of my Mom's in college. When she saw some of my work after I moved here, she insisted on hosting my first show, and she pulled out all the stops when she did it. Things just kind of took off after that.”

“That's great! I'm really happy that it's gone so well!” he applauded her success.

“Thanks.” Buffy blushed slightly.

Now that they seemed to have run through all their conversation topics, neither knew what to say. Angel thought of talking to Buffy about what happened between them, but thought better of it. Buffy had enough stress to deal with today without him piling more on. It could wait until tomorrow. He didn't know what he wanted to say to her, anyway. The delay would give him some time to consider the whole situation.

“I, umm, have stuff to do,” she waved a hand toward her room. “I need to call Giles to make sure everything is set for tonight, and call a few other people. And there's all that girly stuff like painting my nails,” she babbled, desperately trying to find anything to get her on her own where Angel wouldn't be crowding her so much.

“Oh, right. I'll just watch-” He was about to say TV, but he reminded himself again that Buffy hadn't replaced hers yet. “I'll find something to do.”

“Sorry. I haven't gotten around to getting a new TV yet,” she apologized, realizing she wasn't leaving Angel with much to entertain himself.

“It's okay. I've got a book in my bag I can read.” He hoped he'd put the book in there. Otherwise, it was going to be a long, boring morning.

“Good. Great. Well, umm, be ready to leave around three-thirty, then,” she chattered as she rose and took a few backwards steps towards the hallway.

“No problem,” he agreed. And with that, Buffy zipped down the hallway and into her room. Angel guessed she would have gone to any room he wasn't in. Things couldn't get any more tense between them.

{====^====}

By eight that night, the gallery was beginning to fill up with art connoisseurs, and those who wanted to look cool by just attending such a popular event. Angel was amazed at how many people were packed into the rooms below. The gallery would be lucky if they didn't violate any fire codes. Buffy had assured him, though, it wouldn't get too full. The event was invitation only.

Knowing that didn't stop Angel from worrying. With all those people wandering around, he'd have to keep a close eye on Buffy. They had no idea who was after her. It could be any one of those people he was studying from his bird's eye view. He'd just have to keep his eyes open. At least they had decent security. There was a guard at both the front and rear doors, as well as two provided by the gallery patrolling the inside. He'd spoken with all four of them to make sure they knew what they were dealing with regarding Buffy's situation.

“It's just past eight,” Angel called into the office behind him. Though the gallery had opened it's doors around seven, and the event officially started at seven-thirty, Buffy had explained to him that she wasn't making her appearance until eight. Something about making a statement or whatever. He didn’t quite get it, but it was her deal, not his.

“Right,” she muttered from behind him.

The slight waver in her voice drew his attention. “Nervous?”

“A little,” she acknowledged. “It'll pass once I get down there. It's just one of those things, ya know? These people hold my reputation in their hands. If they don't like the product, I bomb.”

“I guess I can see that,” Angel replied pensively. He hadn't considered that aspect. “I'm sure you'll be great, though.”

Just then, Angel fully turned around and nearly stumbled backwards when he got a complete look at Buffy. “Wow,” he gasped. She looked absolutely stunning. Her dress was royal blue, made of silk, he guessed. The top was fitted tightly in a bodice style with two sparkly straps going over her shoulders, and the skirt was a floaty knee length that swirled around her. Angel had never seen her look more beautiful than she did at that moment, and it made his heart pound. “You look wonderful.”

“Thanks,” she accepted with a small smile. “You look great, too.” And boy, did he ever! He had on a pair of pressed black slacks that hugged his butt just so. She'd taken a minute to ogle him earlier. His shirt was long-sleeved, charcoal gray with buttons down the front, and looked to be made of a superior soft silk. The overall look, combined with his dark hair and eyes was just...yummy.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yup. Might as well get this show on the road.” She took a deep breath and gave her curled hair one last fluff.

Angel offered his arm to Buffy, which she took after only a second's hesitation. Together, they moved to the top of the stairs. As soon as they were in sight, the idle chatter below hushed. All heads turned to the pair on the stairs. Angel noticed more than one appreciative eye on Buffy. Well, too bad. She was his for the night.

Descending the stairs, a gracious round of applause sounded from the gathered guests. Well, that's a good sign, Buffy thought to herself. Things were starting off well. She held tightly onto Angel's arm the rest of the way. His presence beside her gave her an odd little boost, but she wasn't going to think about that.

At the bottom of the stairs, she smiled widely. People were already crowding around her, passing their greetings. It would be a while, she knew, before she'd have a chance to breathe again.

{====^====}

Nearly an hour and a half passed before Buffy had a chance to relax for a moment. It seemed like everyone in the room had wanted a personal word with her. The price of success, she supposed. At least she could talk to her family now. She saw them approaching out of the corner of her eye and gave a tug on Angel's arm. He hadn't left her side the entire time.

“That's my family,” she gave a nod in their direction.

Angel turned, a smile on his face. He was looking forward to meeting the people that had been so good to Buffy. They appeared to be a good group, he thought, as they drew closer. The man looked to be around fifty with graying hair and a proud grin on his face. His wife – Jenny, was it? - Angel was surprised to see was a bit younger, probably mid-thirties. She was quite beautiful, though, and obviously just as proud of Buffy as her husband. The young woman with long brown hair, Angel knew, had to be Dawn, Buffy's sister. The two siblings looked very different, but he could pick out some facial similarities.

“Buffy!” Giles greeted her with a big hug. “You look beautiful!”

“Thanks, Giles,” Buffy returned the hug and then shared greetings with the woman who'd taken her in years ago and then later married her uncle, and her sister. It was Jenny who first gave Angel a curious look.

“Who is your friend, Buffy?” she asked, a bit of a teasing smile on her face.

“Oh, well, umm...this is...,” Buffy stuttered, wondering what she could get away with saying. Things were going so well, she didn't want to ruin the night. Angel, though, gave her a pointed look. He wasn't going to let her wiggle her way out of this. She sighed. “Angel is sort of my...my bodyguard.”

“Your what?” Giles' head whipped toward Angel. “Bodyguard? Why in the devil would you need a bodyguard?”

Angel couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Buffy over the next twenty minutes as they explained the situation to her family. They were, expectedly, rather displeased that she had kept what was going on from them. But to their credit, they didn't freak out, as Buffy thought they might. Her uncle asked numerous questions, wanting to know what was being done by the police. Angel did all he could to assure them that they were working hard to catch the stalker, and that in the meantime, he was keeping a close eye on Buffy and would do everything possible to keep her safe.

Once they'd extracted themselves from her family and directed them to the buffet table, Buffy turned to Angel with a grimace on her face. “Well, that was fun.”

“They had to know sooner or later.”

“I know.” She pushed a damp piece of hair off her neck. It was so hot in here! “I need to go outside for a few minutes and get some fresh air.” She didn't bother to wait for Angel's response and started off toward the front door.

Shaking his head, Angel followed after her. Buffy certainly knew how to keep him on his toes. She always had. Fresh air did sound nice, though. With all these people packed around them, it was more than a little stifling. He gave a nod to the guard at the front door as he traveled through, and had the passing thought that he was glad there'd been no trouble

Just past the door, Buffy bumped shoulder to shoulder with someone trying to get into the gallery. Her eyes widened when she took in the man who'd paused beside her. “Oh my God! Oz! Is that you?”

“Buffy? Wow! Long time no see,” the man, Oz, responded, leaning forward to accept Buffy's hug.

“What are you doing here? In LA, I mean,” she added, grinning at the sight of her old friend.

“My band is based in LA now. That's how I heard about your show. We're playing at a club down the street and I walked by the gallery last week and saw the sign for tonight,” he explained.

“I'm so glad you came! It's great to see you!” Buffy gushed. She'd always liked Oz. They'd hadn't exactly been close, but they'd always gotten along. She was surprised that he was in LA, though. “So you're in LA now? I didn't think you'd leave Sunnydale. What about-”

“We broke up,” Oz cut in abruptly.

“Oh, well, um...” she trailed off, sensing an undercurrent there. “We were just getting some fresh air, but I'll be back inside soon.”

“Cool,” Oz stated, then gave her a sheepish look. “Umm, don't suppose you could convince the door guy,” he nodded to the gallery person standing at the door checking invitations, “to let me in?”

“Oh! Right!” Buffy took a few seconds to speak with the doorman and then turned back to Oz. “You're all set.”

“Thanks! I'll catch up with ya later.” He pushed through the door and walked inside.

“Huh,” Buffy grunted, taking a few steps out onto the sidewalk and leaning against a light post as she faced the gallery.

“Old friend?” Angel questioned, coming to stand a foot or so in front of her. He denied to himself that there'd been anything sharp in the tone of his voice. Buffy probably had lots of old friends. Old guy friends. He wasn't jealous.

“Yeah. We went to high school together. Oz was one of those people who didn't belong to any group, but got along with everyone. His band was really popular and played at a lot of parties,” she relayed, reaching behind her to lift her hair up off her neck so that the crisp night air could cool her skin.

The move made Angel's chest tighten. It hadn't been a purposeful, erotic action, but it had a similar effect on him. The slender curve of her neck enticed him, called to him to lean forward and press his lips just there. He hadn't meant to lean forward, but he was doing it anyway.

To his left, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of light reflecting off something. Angel felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He halted his movement, all thoughts of kissing Buffy fleeing his mind as he searched the darkness with narrowed eyes. There had been something there. He knew he'd seen it.

A car drove down the street, it's headlights catching on the shiny gleam of metal on the sidewalk. Angel froze. He had only a split second to react as he saw a shadowed figure shift, arm outstretched.

“BUFFY!” he shouted, diving forward as a loud crack echoed through the streets.

{====^====}
Part 12
{====^====}

Buffy felt as if a thousand little cartoon birds were circling around her after her head and shoulder slammed into the concrete sidewalk. She had only a moment to try to recover when the full weight of Angel's body crashed down upon her, knocking the breath from her lungs. She grunted at the impact and thought the birdies began flying faster around her head.

What in the world had happened? She'd been talking to Angel and then he'd suddenly shouted her name. There was a loud noise and then next thing she knew, she was having and up close and personal meeting with the sidewalk. Oh, and after that, Angel seemed to fall on top of her.

Was she the only person confused? Or was that just because her head was being overrun by the damn cartoon birds?

“Angel?” she gasped, her breathing difficult due to his heavy weight on top of her.

Angel's only response was a groan. He didn't make a move to lift his body. His lack of reaction worried Buffy. She still didn't know what had happened. The need for air was a priority, though, so she wiggled a hand out from between them and gave a light shove to his shoulder while saying his name again. He groaned even louder and there was an undercurrent to the noise that set her nerves on edge. It didn't sound right.

Before she could think too much about that, Buffy realized that there was something squishing around the fingers she'd clasped on Angel's shoulder. She quickly yanked the hand away and stared disbelievingly at the red liquid covering her fingers and palm. Horror shot through her. Angel was bleeding!

And suddenly it clicked in her dazed mind. Angel's shout, his dive toward her, the loud noise, the fall...her stalker! It was the only thing that made sense. The bang had been from a gun! Angel had been shot!

“Angel!” she screamed frantically.

At that moment, the security man who had been guarding the door finally pushed his way outside and came running over. She could just barely see him over Angel's body on top of hers. “Help!,” she yelled. “Angel's been shot!”

The guard swiftly reached down and rolled Angel off Buffy. The action solicited another groan from Angel and she scrambled to her knees, blocking out the pain in her head and shoulder. Her lips trembled when she was finally able to look fully at Angel. His face was ashen and his eyes were barely open. Blood oozed from a spot between the end of his shoulder and his neck.

“Oh God, Angel!,” she cried out, realizing she needed to do something to staunch the bleeding. All she had was her dress. That wouldn't work. Frantically, her eyes searched for anything to use as a bandage. The guard was still kneeling nearby, a cell phone clutched to his ear. “Give me your shirt!” she ordered.

The guard didn't question the request and set the phone down momentarily to shed the navy blue button-down. Buffy snatched it from his hand and hastily folded it, then pressed it to the area of the wound on Angel's shoulder. He grunted in pain at the pressure and more color leached from his face.

“Angel? Angel, can you hear me?” she said, bending down closer to his face.

“Buffy?” he croaked, forcing his eyes open. The burning pain in his shoulder made him want to close them again, but he fought against the darkness. He had to stay awake...had to see... “Are you okay?...didn't get you...did it?”

“No, I didn't get hit. I'm fine,” she assured him, growing more worried as Angel's blood began to soak through the make-shift bandage. “Don't try to talk. Just rest.”

“Glad...you're...okay,” he whispered, his eyes drifting shut as sirens began to wail in the background.

“Stay with me, Angel,” Buffy pleaded, wishing she could hold his hand, but she needed to keep pressure on the wound.

“B!” came a shout from beyond. “What the hell happened?”

Buffy tore her eyes from Angel and saw Faith dashing towards her, as others from inside the gallery fought to exit the building to see what the commotion was. She could see Giles pushing through the crowd to get to her as well.

“Buffy!” Giles yelled, shoving another person aside. “Are you all right?”

“Angel...he's...he's been shot.” She looked pleadingly at someone, anyone, to do something, to help in some way.

“The ambulance will be here soon,” the guard who'd called for help told her.

Faith crouched down and used her hands to aid Buffy in applying pressure to the bleeding hole in Angel's shoulder. “He'll be fine, Buffy. Angel's a tough guy. A bullet couldn't stop him.” She hoped she was right, but she was petrified. The wound was bleeding so much, and Angel was barely conscious. The only positive thought she had was that the bullet didn't appear to have hit in an area where there was anything serious to damage. He was probably just going into shock.

A truck screeched to a halt on the road nearby and Buffy could hear the commotion of doors opening and feet pounding on the asphalt. She looked up just in time to see two EMT's pushing people out of their way to get to their patient. The first one to reach her knelt and took in the situation. He called over his shoulder for his partner to get the stretcher out of the back of the ambulance, then looked to Buffy.

“You'll have to remove your hands so we can treat him,” he said swiftly, pulling gauze and other items out of a medical kit. Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, he gave a sympathetic smile. “We'll do everything we can for him, but you need to step away.”

Nodding vaguely, Buffy did as she was asked. She would have stayed by his side, but Faith tugged at her arm and made Buffy back up.

“We need to let them work,” Faith relayed softly as Spike came to stand beside them.

So they could only watch as the paramedics tended to Angel. Their hands were quick and skillful, for which Buffy was thankful for. Within only a few minutes, they'd stabilized the wound temporarily and loaded Angel onto the stretcher. Her feet followed them to the back of the ambulance of their own volition.

The paramedic who had spoken to her before was about to close the doors when he saw Buffy standing helplessly at the back of the rig. He spared only a moment's thought before reaching a hand down to her. “Come on, you can ride with him, but we need to get going.”

Buffy didn't wait for him to say it twice. She used his hand to jump up into the back and sat on the bench the man pointed to. The ambulance was moving seconds later. And still, she could just sit there and watch as they worked further on Angel. The jab of a needle into his hand made her grimace. Angel barely reacted to the pain of the IV being inserted.

“Buffy,” she barely heard.

“I'm here Angel,” she answered, leaning forward so he could see her.

“Buffy...just want...tell...I...” He never finished the sentence as his eyes fell shut.

Buffy looked anxiously at the EMT. The man checked Angel's vitals before saying anything. “He's just in shock. He lost a lot of blood.”

Relieved, Buffy again sat back in her seat. Angel would be fine. He had to be! Tears burned her eyes. He had gotten hurt trying to protect her. He'd gotten hurt because someone hated her. This was her fault. She'd never forgive herself for causing him pain once again.

{====^====}

An hour passed, then two, as Buffy waited in a room at the hospital, sometimes pacing, sometimes not. What was taking so freakin' long? All she knew was that shortly after arriving at the emergency room, the medical team had stabilized Angel and then taken him up to surgery because the bullet was still lodged in his shoulder. Since then, nothing. Wouldn't they ever come tell her how he was?

Across the room, Jenny Giles sat between her husband and her step-niece, watching Buffy's agitated fidgeting in her seat. She wished Buffy had let one of the nurses get her a pair of scrubs to wear. It was rather chilly in the waiting room and all Buffy had on was her blood-stained silk dress from the gallery opening. Buffy had to be cold, but even if she was, the girl probably wouldn't even notice. She was too worried about this Angel person to think about herself.

Who was Angel? Jenny knew he was Buffy's bodyguard, but there seemed to be...more...there. It was a curious situation, Jenny thought as she saw Buffy stand to begin pacing again. As Buffy passed by her, Jenny could see the goosebumps on Buffy's arms and shook her head. Enough was enough.

Standing, Jenny snagged Buffy's arm. “Come on,” she gently ordered.

It took Buffy a moment to realize she was being pulled to the door, and when she did she tried to yank herself away. “I can't go anywhere!”

“We'll only be a minute. That nice nurse Tara said she could get you something to wear,” Jenny reminded her.

“I'm fine,” mumbled Buffy, unconsciously rubbing at her cold arms.

“You're not fine,” her aunt disagreed. “You're freezing. You won't be any good to Angel if you catch pneumonia.”

That thought made Buffy reconsider. Angel was going to need her when he was recovering. What good would she be if she was stuck in bed sick? Finally, she relented. “Okay, but you'll come get me if they have news?” she asked Giles.

“Yes, of course, Buffy,” he assured her.

The two left the waiting room and Jenny marched them to the nearby nurses' station. Tara saw them coming and gave a shy smile. She'd figured the young woman's family would convince her to take the clothes sooner or later, so she grabbed the pile of hospital scrubs and held them up.

“Thank you,” Jenny accepted them. “Is there somewhere she can change?”

“Th-there's a r-restroom just down the hall,” nurse Tara pointed in the direction, and tried not to be embarrassed by the stutter that had plagued her since her mother died when she was a young girl. “On the l-left.”

“Great! Thanks!”

Tugging a somewhat reluctant Buffy along behind her, Jenny arrived at the women's bathroom and gave Buffy a slight push inside. Her niece was a bit disoriented, it seemed, but Jenny couldn't blame her. She didn't know much about what was going on with this stalker, but it had to be taking its toll. And then with everything that had happened tonight, well, it was bound to make mush out of someone's brain.

“I'll wait here. You can go into one of the stalls and change,” Jenny said, shoving the clothes into Buffy's arms and directing her to the nearest stall. Thankfully, no one else was in the bathroom to bother them.

Buffy returned a few minutes later, her body draped in the too-large nurses' clothing. At least it would keep her warmer. Jenny took the dress Buffy held in her hands and tucked it into her purse. It would most likely have to be thrown away, but she would try to get the blood stains out of it.

Seeing Buffy's face, mascara tracks trailing down her cheeks, Jenny sighed. The poor girl was a mess. After everything she'd already been through in her young life, this was the last thing she needed. She thought back for a few seconds about the mutinous girl Buffy had once been. Those days had been trying. More than once Jenny had wondered what she'd gotten herself into by taking over the guardianship of the two Summers' girls, but in the end it was worth it. She was so proud of what Buffy had made of her life after struggling for so long.

“Why don't you wash your face quick before we go back?” she suggested.

Buffy's eyes shifted to the mirror above the sink and she cringed. God, she looked awful! She didn't want to see Angel like this when he came out of surgery. So she did as Jenny asked and scrubbed her face clean of makeup and tears. Once done, she leaned against the sink and closed her eyes. She was so tired, and so worried about Angel. He would be okay. He just had to be!

“So..you and Angel seem pretty close,” Jenny found herself saying, then bit her lip as she silently chastised her audacity. The last thing Buffy needed right now was to be questioned about whatever relationship seemed to exist between her and Angel. Jenny just hadn't been able to help herself.

The question made Buffy's hand still as she dried them with the coarse, practically useless paper towels next to the sink. She debated brushing the inquiry off, or repeating what she'd told her family earlier – that Angel was her bodyguard – but Buffy had made a promise to herself years ago: she would never lie to her family again if it could be helped. She wasn't about to back-off that decree now.

Sighing, she turned and faced her aunt. “I've known Angel for a long time. Sort of. We met when I still lived in Sunnydale.”

“Uh huh,” Jenny hummed pensively. Wasn't that interesting? “I take it you were involved?”

“Umm, yeah.” Buffy shifted her feet around. This wasn't exactly a conversation she wanted to have with her aunt, or anyone in her family for that matter. “He was probably the best thing that ever happened to me. And I was a...a mess,” she finished flatly.

“I see,” replied Jenny, suddenly understanding. Buffy had first met the man when her life was still spiraling downwards. She was beginning to get a feel of the situation.

“Yeah,” Buffy shrugged. “I did some really stupid things, and he left. I hadn't seem him for four years until recently when he and Faith responded about the break-in at my apartment.”

“That had to be hard,” Jenny said sympathetically. She was curious to know what exactly had gone on between the two in Sunnydale and how things were now, but she wouldn’t press Buffy any harder. The poor girl was stressed out enough.

“I couldn't believe it when he showed up at my door with Faith,” she answered, thinking back to that fateful day. “Things were...rough...for a while, but we finally talked. There were things I'd never told him. They don't excuse what I did to him, but I think he understands. I guess we're kind of friends now.” Yeah, friends who climbed onto her kitchen table and had crazy monkey sex.

Friends, huh? Jenny was pretty sure they were a lot more than friends, but that was an issue for another time. At least now she understood the chemistry between the two better. From the first moment she'd seen them next to each other at the gallery earlier, Jenny had sensed something between them. It hadn't made sense when Buffy introduced him as her bodyguard, but now Jenny knew why that was.

Jenny was about to suggest that they stop at one of the snack machines in the hall on the way back when the door burst open and Dawn nearly fell into the room. Instantly frantic, Buffy leapt at her sister, her lips trembling and her eyes filling with tears.

“What's wrong? It's Angel? He's...he's not....not...” Buffy couldn't finish the thought. It was too horrible to consider.

“I think he's fine, but I don't know. The doctor just came down and is waiting for you,” Dawn explained, already grabbing Buffy's hand and tugging her out of the bathroom.

By the time they reached the hall, Buffy was the one leading Dawn. The younger Summers had to almost run to keep up with her sister. But she didn't complain. She might like to rag on Buffy whenever possible, but now wasn't one of those moments.

Buffy jerked open the door to the waiting room, dropping Dawn's hand in the process. Everyone was standing, anxiously waiting for her to return so that the doctor could relay his news about Angel. A vague impression formed in her mind that the guy didn't look much like a doctor, but it was a fleeting thought. All she wanted to know was that Angel would be okay.

“Ah, you must be the famous Buffy,” the man said, turning to face her. “I'm Doctor Lorne Caritas. I performed the surgery on Liam – err, Angel, I'm told he's called. Is there a reason for that? No, never mind. I'm sure you want to know how he's doing.”

“Yes, please,” Buffy entreated, desperately needing to know. “Will he be okay?”

“He'll be just fine, dumplin',” Lorne assured her with a smile. “The wound wasn't all that serious. There aren't any organs in the shoulder to pierce. He lost a lot of blood, and as you know, we had to remove the bullet. It entered about here,” he pointed a spot about halfway between the neck and the ball of the shoulder. “It looks as though the bullet deflected off the collarbone. The bone cracked but didn't fully break or shatter, and we didn't have any trouble removing the slug. All in all, he was quite the lucky man.”

“Oh, thank God!” Buffy sighed in relief and sagged against Faith, who'd come to stand next to her.

“His collarbone will be more than just a little painful for a while, and his motion will be restricted, but he'll be back to his big, manly self in no time,” Lorne explained, and gave a snap of his fingers to explicate the point.

Faith gave him an odd look. Weird dude. But Angel was going to be a-okay. She blew out a breath, and shook off the sappy emotions overwhelming her. She didn't do sappy.

“Can...can I see him?” Buffy asked, wanting to see for herself that Angel was alive and well. She knew the doctor wouldn't lie to her about something like this. She just needed to see him.

Lorne hesitated for a moment. Technically, family were the only ones allowed to see patients in this situation. The other officer, though – Faith, he recalled – had already told him that Angel had no family living in the city. He supposed he could bend the rules this one time. How could he possibly resist the wounded, puppy-dog look on Buffy's face?

“Yes, you can see him,” he relented. “He's still in post-op, so you'll have to wait until he's moved to a room and settled in. I have to warn you that he probably won't know you're there. The pain meds and recovery from anesthesia will likely keep him out of it until morning.”

“That's okay,” Buffy interjected quickly. She didn't care if he was sound asleep. “I just want to see him.”

“All right, I'll have a nurse come get you when he's all tucked in.” Lorne patted her arm then left the room.

Feeling her friend trembling next to her, Faith put an arm around Buffy's shoulders – that was about as close as she got to sappy. “Don't worry, B. The big guy's fine. He'll probably be up and spouting orders in the morning like usual.”

“Excuse me,” a woman interrupted.

Buffy realized then that there was someone new in the room. She hadn't ever seen the tall woman with medium blonde hair before. Who in the world was she?

“Sorry,” Faith said sheepishly. “Buffy, this is Kate Lockley. She's a detective from me and Angel's precinct.”

“Oh, umm, hi,” mumbled Buffy, not really caring who the woman was, though she was slightly curious about her presence. Then again, she was a police officer. So was Angel. That probably explained it. “I'm gonna go wait in the hall for the nurse to come get me.”

As Buffy started to leave, the woman's voice cut in again. “Miss Summers, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Geez, Kate. Can't this wait a little bit?” Faith muttered, giving the other cop an annoyed glare.

“No, it can't. Now,” Kate focused back in on Buffy “if you could just tell me exactly what happened tonight.”

Her words were forceful and no nonsense, a fact not lost on Buffy. The tone startled her a bit. She glanced at the door, wanting to be with Angel instead of in here. “I, umm-.”

“Didn't the guard at the door already tell you what happened?” Faith cut in.

“I need to gather all the facts. You should know that,” Kate accused haughtily.

“Oh for fuck's sake,” grumbled Faith, eyeing the woman in disgust. “Just answer her questions, B.”

“Umm, okay.”

It was obvious she wouldn't get out of the room until she did, so Buffy explained. She told the stiff-legged cop everything she knew. How she and Angel had gone outside and how Angel had shouted her name and pushed her out of the way. Then the loud crack she now knew was a gunshot. And that was it. That was all she knew. It wasn't much. Apparently the cop thought so too because she slapped her notebook closed and looked annoyed.

“Thank you for your time,” Kate snapped, and immediately left the room without another word.

Buffy couldn't stop the words that slipped out of her mouth. “Who stuck the pole up her ass?”

Chuckling, Faith shook her head and rolled her eyes at Kate's antics. “Miss Lockley there has had a hard-on for Angel for years. But he sees her as just a co-worker, which, as you pointed out, has shoved a pole or two up her ass.”

Through narrowed eyes, Buffy stared at the door the woman had exited through. So she wanted Angel, did she? Well, that was just too damn bad. Angel was hers!

That wasn't quite true, she immediately corrected herself. Okay, it wasn't the least bit true. She had no claim at all on Angel. Most of the time, she didn't even think he liked her. He may not hate her anymore, but they didn't mean anything to each other. Or rather, she didn't mean anything to him. If she did, he wouldn't have been about to give her the 'it was a mistake' talk after their...rendezvous in the kitchen. But that was another issue for another time.

All that mattered now was that she get to Angel and see for herself that he was alive. But before Buffy could return to her plan to wait in the hallway, Tara – the nurse – entered the room and gave Buffy a compassionate smile.

“The d-doctor said you c-can go up now,” Tara relayed. “If y-you'll follow me.”

{====^====}

Ten minutes later, Buffy was standing outside the door to Angel's room. As soon as Nurse Tara had told her she could go, she'd wanted to race to his room. Unfortunately, everyone else had other ideas.

First her family had needed to speak with her. They wanted to wait at the hospital to take her back to her apartment once she'd seen Angel. Buffy had no intention of leaving. She was going to be there when Angel woke up in the morning. Telling her family that had resulted in a mild argument. They wanted her to go home and get some sleep. Finally, she'd gotten them to leave. As expected, they were going to stay in LA overnight, though. Jenny had already spoken to their neighbor about watching the baby longer, and Giles had made hotel reservations. Dawn was going to stay with them, since it was too dangerous for her to stay at the apartment by herself.

Once that had been settled, Faith and Spike had cornered her to tell her they were going across the street to the all-night coffee shop, but would be back to stay with her. Faith knew Buffy was not leaving. Even dynamite wouldn't have pried Buffy from Angel's room. Buffy tried to tell them that there was no need for them to stay, but Faith said they were, and that was the end of it. She'd also tacked on at the end that Buffy was still in danger and someone needed to watch out for her.

Which was why one of the officers who'd pulled guard duty at the gallery earlier was standing outside Angel's door. He would apparently stay there until Faith and Spike got back to take over the Great Buffy Watch. Would she ever get time to herself again?

The point was moot for now. Angel was what mattered. She could take an armed guard as long as she got to see him.

Slowly, Buffy pushed the door open and entered the darkened room. Only a small light over the foot of the bed gave the room illumination. It was enough, though, for her to get a good look at Angel's face.

He was still so pale, was her first thought. She was reassured about his condition, however, by the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor he was attached too. That single noise told her for sure the doctor hadn't lied. Angel was alive and going to be fine.

Tears prickled her eyes for the millionth time that night, but she forced them back. She wasn't going to cry!

Pulling a chair up to the bed, Buffy sat, all the while staring at Angel's face and at the even rise and fall of his chest. Her mind was still having some trouble facing what had happened. In her experience, people only got shot on TV. People were only stalked in movies. This kind of stuff didn't happen in real life!

But it did, and it had. Angel was proof of that. He'd taken a bullet because of her. Would he ever forgive her?

It was just another thing to add to the list of wrongs she'd done Angel, she thought as she gently took Angel's hand in hers. She'd understand if he wanted nothing more to do with her when he woke up in the morning.

{====^====}
Part 13
{====^====}

The shifting of the sheets beneath her head jerked Buffy from the light sleep she'd fallen into around dawn and she yanked her head up. Her eyes darted around the room, wondering what had woken her. She was sure she'd felt something. Had a nurse been in the room to check on Angel? Buffy didn't see any signs that a nurse had been in.

All throughout the night the nurses had been in and out, making sure that Angel was okay. Every time Buffy felt her eyes start to close as exhaustion overwhelmed her, someone would be clomping into the room, shining lights and poking and prodding. It had kept her awake for hours. Angel, though, had continued to sleep through it all, but Buffy was told that was normal.

She was determined to be there when he finally opened his eyes. All she wanted was to see that he was okay. The nurses had tried to kick her out of Angel's room, spouting rules and all that crap, but Buffy held firm. She was not leaving Angel's side. It was her fault he was in the hospital bed to begin with. So there was just no way they could make her leave. Thankfully, Faith had stepped in and talked to the nurses. They'd left her alone after that. Well, except for their room visits every half-hour to check on Angel.

Buffy wondered again if that was what had dragged her from a restless sleep. Wouldn't the nurse have woken her up? Maybe not. Or maybe she'd just imagined feeling the sheets move. It could have been her dreams, or rather nightmares, that had snapped her eyes open. The little sleep she'd managed to get was plagued with images of the night before. Some of them were instant replays of what had happened, and some of them were more violent and deadly.

As Buffy moved to run a hand through her tangled blonde hair, the sound of the sheets rustling caught her attention. This time she knew there had been movement next to her. That meant...her eyes snapped to the bed. Angel? Was he awake?

The fingers on Angel's right hand twitched, and Buffy jumped out of her chair, groaning as her stiff muscles protested. The discomfort only registered for a minute. She was too focused on the man lying prone on the bed.

“Angel? Angel? Can you hear me?” she said in a soft voice, not wanting to startle him.

For a long thirty seconds, she waited and got no reaction. Disappointment showed on her face. But then Angel's eyes slowly blinked open. Buffy thought her heart would stop at the sight. He was awake!

“Angel?” she repeated, leaning over the bed and into his line of vision.

“Bu-...B-Buffy?,” he croaked hoarsely.

Everything around Angel seemed fuzzy, as if encased in clouds. It was oddly psychedelic, but it was making his head ache. What was going on? Angel tried to sort through the muddled mess in his head. Something was very off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The pulsing pain radiating somewhere in his upper body didn't help either. He must have slept weird for his shoulder to be...

The thought trailed off. His shoulder hurt like hell. That realization made reality slam back into Angel. His shoulder! He'd been shot! The events of the night before swam through his hazy mind. He remembered seeing someone on the sidewalk near the gallery, and he'd yelled to Buffy. Then everything got all mixed up in his head. He had only vague images of the things that came after. All he knew was that he'd tried to save Buffy.

Buffy! That new thought overruled all else. Where was Buffy? Was she okay? Had she been hurt? His brows drew together as he tried to piece the situation together. Wait...he'd heard Buffy's voice just now, hadn't he? Or had that been a dream? Angel wished the fuzziness in his head would go away. It was confusing him.

“Angel?” The gentle calling of his name pulled Angel back to the present and he forced his eyes open again. This time, he could clearly see Buffy's face in front of him.

“B-Buffy?” he said again, a little more lucid this time.

“Hey,” Buffy greeted him with a relieved smile.

“Wh...what...” He coughed, his throat feeling dry and a bit raw.

“Hold on; I'll get you something to drink,” she offered, then rushed over to the nightstand to pour a glass of water.

Back at the bed, Buffy held the cup up to Angel, glad it had a straw so he wouldn't have to move around too much. He drank gratefully, draining nearly all the liquid. Once he was finished, she set the cup back on the nightstand before turning to him again.

“Better?” she asked.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he answered, most of the hoarseness gone from his voice. “Where am I?”

“In the hospital,” she told him. Considering for a moment, she asked, “do you remember what happened last night?”

“I...I think so.” Angel's brows drew together again. He was pretty sure he remembered what had happened. But that was the least of his worries right now. There were more pressing matters. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she relayed, touching his hand lightly. “You saved me. I...I'm so sorry, Angel.”

Angel frowned at the tears in Buffy's eyes. Sorry? What was she sorry for? “I don't understand.”

“This is all my fault!” she exclaimed, then quickly glanced at the door when she realized how loud her voice had been. When no nurses charged in to reprimand her, she looked back at Angel. “You wouldn't have been shot if it were for me.”

“Buffy,” Angel started to sit up and deny her claim, but the movement shot shards of pain through his shoulder and he groaned.

“You shouldn't move, Angel!” Buffy ordered, feeling more guilty because he wouldn't be hurting at all if she wasn't around.

Their conversation halted when the door leading to the hallway opened and a man in a white coat stepped into the room. He took in the scene and smiled fully.

“Well, I see my patient is awake!” Dr. Lorne Caritas said cheerfully. “That's good! No, great!” He walked up to the bed and studied Angel. “Nice to have you back with us, big fella!”

Angel eyed the man warily. Who was this weirdo? And why did he have to come in when he needed to talk to Buffy? He couldn't let her blame herself for him getting shot. It was hardly her fault that some lunatic shot him.

“I'm Doctor Lorne Caritas,” the strange man introduced himself.

“Uh, hi,” Angel returned.

“And how are we doing this morning?” Lorne questioned, pulling out a pen-light to look in Angel's eyes.

“Been better,” grunted Angel, trying to squint to block out the bright light.

“That's to be expected.” Looking at the chart at the end of the bed, Lorne nodded. “Your vitals are all good. I need to check the wound, make sure it's not growing hair or anything.” At the strange looks he received from the other two people in the room, Lorne chuckled. “Just some doctor humor, but I do need to check your shoulder.”

Buffy stayed in the room as Lorne removed the dressing from Angel's wound and poked and prodded it. He jotted down some notes on the chart and then put a new bandage on the shoulder. Another minute passed as he wrote some more on the chart before placing it back in the holder at the end of the bed.

“Everything is looking peachy,” he explained when he'd finished his examination. “The wound is already starting to heal. If there are no complications, you should be able to go home in three or four days.”

“Three or four days?” Angel bellowed, then groaned when the exertion caused him more pain.

Scowling at Angel for his lack of care to his body, Buffy turned to Lorne. “Does he really have to stay that long?” She didn't blame Angel for not being happy over the predicted length of his stay. If she were in his position, she'd want to be out of here as soon as possible. Hospitals gave her the creeps.

Lorne shook his head and sighed. “Bullet wounds aren't like you see on TV. You don't just get patched up and hop on back to your life. You're going to be in a boatload of pain, Angel, and there's a strong risk of infection. We have to monitor you to make sure a fever doesn't develop.”

“Oh,” Buffy mumbled. “They always make it look so easy on TV.”

“That's so those big strapping men look more manly,” Lorne explained. His watch beeped and he glanced down. “Well, got to run! I'll check back later!”

With that, he was gone. Angel stared at the closed door, wondering why he had to get the whacko doctor. Weren't they usually sedate and serious?

“He's, umm, a bit odd,” Buffy said out loud, as she too stared at the door.

“No kidding,” Angel muttered in response. Shifting on the bed, and wincing at the pull in his shoulder, Angel hoped the next three days would pass quickly. The sooner he was out of here, the better. Besides, he couldn't be of help to anyone lying in a bed. But for now, he would deal with what Buffy had said before they were interrupted. “Buffy, wh-.”

“Hey Angie! I hear you're awake!” came a shout from the doorway. Angel groaned and glared at his partner as she strolled through the door.

“Faith! We're in a hospital!” Buffy reprimanded Faith on her yelling. “Sheesh!”

“Take a pill, B. If they don't like it they can kiss my,” she finished off the statement by slapping her leather-clad butt. Ignoring Buffy's annoyed look, she strode over to the bed and studied Angel's bandaged shoulder. “I bet that'll leave a wicked scar!”

“Yeah, that was my goal, a scar to tell war stories over and attract chicks,” he replied sarcastically, flinching away from Faith as she attempted to poke at his shoulder. A wave of dizziness swam over him and he clutched his head. What the hell kind of drugs had they given him?

“Are you okay?” Buffy questioned, stepping up to the bed.

“I think it's just the morphine or whatever they gave me,” he answered, his voice wobbly.

“Why don't we leave and let you get some sleep?” she said to Faith and Angel.

“No,” he shook his head, blinking against the dizziness that made him slightly nauseous. He turned to Faith. “Have you found anything out?”

“About last night?” Faith asked for clarification. At his nod, she sighed and plopped down on a chair, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her things. “Not a fucking thing.”

“Nothing?” Buffy said weakly, sliding dejectedly into her own chair. She'd so hoped that the police would have caught the shooter, or at least found something out. It seemed like they knew just as much as before, which was absolutely nothing!

“By the time someone tried to go after the sicko last night, she – or he – was long gone,” Faith relayed, lifting her hands helplessly. “We went over the scene with a fine tooth comb, talked to every freakin' person around, and didn't find any-damn-thing. This freak's like a phantom!”

“Damn!” Angel growled, pounding the bed with the fist on his uninjured side. How can this...this...person...keep two steps ahead of them all the time? He or she hadn't made one mistake yet, leaving them with no clues whatsoever. And every freaking day, Buffy was closer and closer to getting hurt! She'd almost been killed the night before!

“Sooner or later, we'll get the son of a bitch, Angel,” Faith stated, looking determined.

“Yeah, that's if they don't get us first,” he grumbled, trying his best to keep his shoulder still, and to keep his eyes open. Why was he so tired? It had to be the drugs. He certainly didn't need the rest. From what he could tell, he'd been asleep the entire night.

“They've already shot Angel,” Buffy said softly, her eyes darting away from the bed where Angel lay injured.

The tone of her voice made Angel's eyes snap back to Buffy. She was blaming herself again. “This wasn't your fault, Buffy.”

“This person is after me. They wanted to shoot me,” she disagreed, fighting the tears building in her eyes. “You wouldn't have been shot if it weren't for me.”

Buffy shook her head. How could he not say this was her fault? Her stalker didn't care about Angel. It was her they wanted. And because of that, Angel'd gotten hurt. That made it her fault. How could she live with herself knowing Angel was in that bed because of something she did? It seemed like all she ever did was hurt him. The fact that it wasn't something she actually physically did this time was a small consolation.

“Umm, right.” Faith stood and walked to the door. “I'll just, uh, leave you two to sort this out.” She opened the door and took a step through, but then stopped. “This wasn't your fault, B.”

Watching her friend leave, Buffy's shoulders drooped. Why was she the only one who saw that?

“She's right,” Angel enforced Faith's last words. “It wasn't your fault that I got shot.”

“It was!” she reiterated emphatically. “You got hurt because someone wants to get to me!”

“Buffy,” he reached out and took her hand. “You didn't make whoever it is shoot me or come after you. They've done everything on their own.” His words seemed to have little effect. So he tried harder. “I'm a cop, Buffy. I know the risks. I would be a bad cop if I didn't. There's always a chance that something bad could happen, and I could get hurt.”

The words stung, though Buffy knew they shouldn't. He'd just been doing his job. She didn't know what hurt more, knowing that Angel was shot while helping her, or that the whole reason he was there was because he was just doing his job. How in the hell had she gotten herself into such a mess? Her life had finally reached a normal, calm place a few years ago after being lost for so long. Now she was surrounded by turmoil. She absolutely hated it.

“Besides,” Angel continued, his tone gentler, more personal. “I'd do anything to protect you, to keep you from getting hurt.”

Buffy's mouth dropped open as her eyes jerked back to his. He didn't mean...

The door clicked open and footsteps sounded. “Buffy?”

Angel scowled. This getting interrupted by people, by phone calls, by psycho stalkers was getting to be a freakin' epidemic. There always seemed to be someone butting their nose in, whether unintentionally or not. It was really beginning to piss him off. How was he supposed to have a serious conversation with Buffy this way?

“Giles? What are you doing here?” Buffy asked, turning to her uncle as he stood hesitantly just inside the door.

“We wanted to see, umm, how Angel was doing and to see if you perhaps needed anything,” the older man explained, eyes darting to Angel.

“Oh...well..the doctor thinks Angel will be fine,” she responded, feeling oddly uncomfortable. Had Jenny told Giles what they'd talk about in the bathroom the night before? Was that why Giles was staring at them with a questioning gaze? Or was she just imaging that?

“Good. That's good,” Giles said. “We...err...Jenny, Dawn, and I went by your apartment with Faith just before we came to the hospital and picked up some clothes for you.” He held out a bag to Buffy.

“Thanks. These are, umm,” she looked down at the scrubs the nurse had given her the night before. “Kinda big.”

For the first time, Angel noticed that Buffy was wearing a teal shirt and pant set that some hospital workers often wore. They nearly hung off her body due to the large size. “What happened to your dress?” he suddenly asked.

“It was...” she looked away and muttered, “covered with blood.”

His blood, Angel realized. The thought made him uncomfortable. And dismayed to think that the knock-out dress she'd worn to the opening had been ruined. With his blood. He shuddered at the memory of being shot. He'd been a cop for a long time, but this was the first time he'd ever been shot. It wasn't something he wanted to repeat. Ever.

“Hello, Mr. Callahan,” greeted a nurse as she entered the room carrying a tray. “I've brought you some lunch.”

Angel nearly rolled his eyes. Another interruption. Right on time.

{====^====}

A few blocks away from the hospital, a dark-clad figure entered a convenience store and headed straight for the section containing newspapers. Wallstreet...New York...Chicago...Dallas...NO, NO, NO, NO! Local news was needed, not useless crap that meant nothing.

Los Angeles. Ah, there it is.

The crinkling of paper seemed to echo through the entire store as the reader eagerly flipped through the pages, searching. It had to be there. It just had to be. Confirmation was needed. Triumph was oh-so-close. All that was needed was...

There!

The headline glared up at narrowed eyes.

“Exhibition Opening of Local Artist Marred By Shooting – see page B7 for the full story.”

Pages crinkled again at the hurried turning. B5...B6...B7...

“The opening of a new exhibition by popular Los Angeles artist Buffy Summers was interrupted last night when a gun shot sounded. Miss Summers and her escort, off-duty LA police officer Liam 'Angel' Callahan, were apparently standing on the sidewalk outside the gallery when an unknown assailant fired a single shot. The bullet struck Mr. Callahan...

...hospital reports condition of the victim stable...

....Miss Summers unharmed”

Damn!

DAMN! DAMN! DAMN!

How was that possible? How could that little bitch be unharmed?

Well, no bother, the figure thought. Another plan could be formed. Last night had been hasty. The opportunity had just been too appealing. And seeing...

No. That was inconsequential. All that mattered was that the bitch paid. And she would. There was always another plan, another opportunity.

If at first you don't succeed, try again.

{====^====}

“No, I'm staying here,” Buffy stated hotly, glaring at the group that had ganged up on her.

“Buffy, please, be reasonable,” Giles tried again. He was just looking out for her!

“There's nothing you can do here,” Jenny added from Giles' side.

“I can keep Angel company,” she posed in defense. How could they suggest that she leave Angel when protecting her was how he'd ended up here?

Faith stepped up to Buffy and put a hand on her arm. “I'm sure Angel will be fine if you go home for a little bit, change, eat, all that crap.”

“But-”

“You can come back here later,” Spike offered, knowing it was probably the only way she'd agree to go. He was beginning to think Faith was right, that there was something big between these two. They were certainly acting like it.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy grumbled to herself. In truth, she did feel rather dirty and gross. And she was a little hungry. She supposed she could go back to her apartment for a little bit. If it would get everyone off her back, then she might as well.

“Fine,” she relented eventually.

“Good. Spike and I will go with you.” When Buffy opened her mouth to disagree, Faith gave her a long stare. “You're not going by yourself, B. Not with this lunatic still out there.”

Oh, right. Her stalker. For a moment, Buffy had forgotten about that. Almost. She shivered, thinking again of the night before when Angel had been shot. No, she really didn't want to encounter whoever it was on her own. But would she ever get time to herself again? Lately, she'd been surrounded non-stop by people. It was beginning – well, more than beginning – to grate on her nerves.

“I'm going to go with them,” Dawn said to her aunt and uncle. She wanted to make sure Buffy was doing okay. With everything going on, they hadn't had much of a chance to talk. Years ago, that hadn't really mattered, but since Buffy had come to LA and made changes in her life, they'd been a lot closer.

“All right.” Giles looked down at his watch. “We'll meet you back here at three. We really do need to return to Sunnydale. We would stay longer if we could,” he said to Buffy in particular.

“It's okay,” she gave him a small smile, knowing her aunt and uncle had an infant son waiting in Sunnydale.

“Well, ladies? Ready?” Spike gestured grandly to the hallway ahead of them.

After saying a quick goodbye to Jenny and Giles they headed to the elevator. The ride to the first floor was quiet, no one really knowing what to say. It wasn't every day you were involved with a stalker and a shooting. Buffy was glad to reach the lobby. She wasn't claustrophobic, but the elevator had been suffocating.

As they stepped outside, Faith and Spike talked quietly while walking to Faith's car. Dawn strode silently a foot behind Buffy, knowing her sister would talk when she was ready.

They were halfway across the parking lot when Buffy felt the skin on the back of her neck prickle. She shuddered and rubbed her arms. The feeling didn't go away. Nervously, her eyes darted all around her, searching for something, anything, that had brought on the sensation. At the back corner of the lot, near a big SUV, she saw a shadow.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Buffy stared at the spot, but it was no longer there. She blinked, squinting to see better. But there was nothing. Had the shadow actually been there? Or was her mind playing tricks? She shook her head. Maybe she just needed sleep. There wasn't anything there.

“Buffy?” Dawn touched her shoulder, noticing that Buffy flinched in reaction. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” she mumbled, her eyes still watching the area where she thought she'd seen something. After another minute, she shrugged and kept following Faith and Spike. “I'm fine.”

{====^====}

The black-clad figure laughed silently from the shadows of the vehicle. Poor little Buffy was nervous. Well, she should be.

A scowl formed at the memory of the night before. Buffy had been lucky. She wouldn't be for much longer.

{====^====}
Part 14
{====^====}

“Damnit!” Angel cursed angrily as he jostled his injured shoulder while trying to pull up the jeans Buffy had brought him. He was more than happy to get out of that completely indecent gown the hospital had made him wear, but getting dressed was turning into a major chore. Who knew using only one arm could make putting on a pair of pants so difficult?

After a few minutes of struggling, he finally managed to get the denim up over his hips, and then stared in dismay at the zipper and button. Now how the hell was he supposed to get that done up? He tried using just his good – right – arm, but met little success. The zipper just wouldn't go up, and he knew trying to do the button would be futile with just one hand. There was just no way to finish the task on his own.

Buffy chose that moment to walk back into the room. She took one look at Angel, with his jeans undone and no shirt on, and had to work hard to keep a gasp from escaping. He was too beautiful for words, all lean muscle and wide shoulders. She had a desperate desire to run her hands all over his chest. It was the sight of the pristine, white bandage on his left shoulder that brought her back to reality. Right, Angel was hurt. He really didn't need her drooling all over him. It would be best if she just...left the room while he was half-naked.

“I'm, uh, sorry. I'll...I'll come back in a few minutes,” she stuttered, backing toward the door.

“Wait!” Angel quickly requested. Buffy gazed at him expectantly, causing him to grimace as he thought about what he intended to ask her. “I...umm...can't seem too...,” he trailed off and looked over at his limp left arm, then to his unbuttoned pants.

“Oh.” A crimson blush worked up Buffy's face as she stared at the crotch of his pants. He needed her to...oh boy. She could do this. She could help Angel get dressed. Yup, she could do it. Right.

Taking a few steps forward, she approached Angel. When she stood in front of him, she found all she could was stand there and stare. How the hell was she supposed to do this? And why had she thought she could in the first place? Her fingers clenched at her side. Maybe she should just go get a nurse to help. Wasn't that nice Tara woman on duty right now?

No, she could do this. After all Angel had done for her throughout this ordeal, the least she could do was help him to get dressed. He wouldn't need help if he hadn't been shot while protecting her. So yes, she would help him. Even if she died of embarrassment. Or lust.

Just do it and get it over with, she told herself. Reaching a hand out blindly, her fingers smacked into Angel's abdomen. Not the right spot. She was going to have to try harder than this. So she forced her gaze downwards and took a deep breath. All she had to do was raise the zipper and do up the button.

The zipper had other ideas because no matter which way she tugged, the damned thing wouldn't move even a millimeter. Figured. This was going to require a little more effort than she hoped. Dropping to her knees, Buffy blushed again when she ended up eye level with Angel's crotch. What had she done to deserve this torture?

As Buffy fiddled with his zipper, Angel used every technique he could think of to keep his mind distracted. It didn't help very much. The sight of Buffy crouched in front of him was more than a man could handle. Well, at least more than he could handle. He could feel his blood rushing south, recognized the telltale pulsing in his groin. This was going to be very, very bad if Buffy didn't finish soon.

Thankfully for both of them, Buffy managed to un-snag the zipper and finished the task quickly. She was back on her feet and halfway across the room from Angel before he could blink. He frowned at the action. Did she want to be away from him that much? Or had she been as turned on as he was by the situation? Probably the former given the way she'd acted after their morning together several days ago.

Angel eyed Buffy for a moment. They still had not been able to talk about what had happened in her kitchen. She'd avoided the subject right afterwards, and then he'd been shot. The hospital hadn't seemed like a good place to bring it up so he'd left it alone. It really needed to be addressed, though. Things had been awkward between them since. Once they were back at her apartment, he'd corner her and make her talk.

Right now, he had to finish getting dressed. The sooner he did, the sooner he could be out of this place. Hospitals definitely weren't on his list of favorite places to be. He turned to the bed and gazed at his shirt. Yeah. Now how was he supposed to get that thing on?

Seeing Angel's distress at the thought of putting on his shirt, Buffy sighed. Could this day get any more difficult? “Here, let me help.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled in response and picked up the button down shirt. Good thing it had buttons. He didn't think he'd be able to put on a sweater or a t-shirt.

Buffy took the shirt from him and held it open. “I figured this would be easier than a regular shirt. I think you'll have to just put one arm in and then button it over the other one.

“Okay,” he nodded, then stuck his uninjured right arm into the sleeve. Buffy passed the shirt around him and buttoned a few buttons in the front. It definitely wasn't stylish, but it would do.

“All done,” Buffy stated, and gave a smile that was more relief than triumph. “Once it's less sore, you'll probably be able to get your other arm in the sleeve. I think it was almost two weeks before I even tried it.”

“Huh?” What was she talking about?

“When I broke my collarbone falling out of a tree,” she reminded him of the event that had ended up changing her life, making her face things she hadn't previously wanted to. “I could barely move my arm for weeks, but you didn't break the bone so once it's less sore, you'll probably be able to get it into a sleeve.”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled. He'd nearly forgotten about the things from her past. More and more these days, he thought of her only in terms of the person she was now. That probably wasn't smart on his part. He shouldn't forget the past.

“So, umm,” Buffy shuffled her feet. Why was this so awkward? Oh, right. She'd slept with Angel and now they were doing that morning after thing. Only, this morning after was lasting days and days. It royally sucked. “Is there anything else we need to do before we leave?”

“I don't think so.” He shook his head. “That Lorne guy was in and had me sign the release papers. So I think that's it.”

“I guess we can go, then.”

“Wait,” Angel cut in. He frowned and looked around the room, suddenly realizing something. “Where's Faith? Wasn't she supposed to be here? You didn't come here by yourself did you?” he said sharply

“No, I didn't come by myself,” Buffy answered with a sigh. She was really getting sick of her lack of freedom. “Faith followed me over and walked up here with me, but she said she needed to stop in at the station for something. She's going to meet us back at my apartment in an hour or so.”

“Okay, good.” Angel felt the tightness in his chest release. The idea that Buffy had come to get him on her own had scared him to death. Whoever was after her wasn't going to stop until he or she managed to get to Buffy, or was caught. She simply couldn't take any chances. The less she was alone, the safer she would be.

“I don't see why she has to stay at my apartment, too,” she grumbled, thinking about how Angel and Faith had decided that Faith would stay on Buffy's couch along with Angel sleeping in Dawn's room. Thank goodness Dawn had gone back to Sunnydale with Giles and Jenny or they'd really be in trouble.

“We talked about this, Buffy,” he replied, leaning back against the bed. God, his shoulder hurt. And he was tired. It was ridiculous. He'd only been up for a few hours and already he was exhausted. Dr. Lorne was right when he said bullet wounds were nothing like they were on TV.

“I can't protect you as well as I could with my shoulder hurt. You'll be safer if Faith is there,” he went on, once again explaining the line of reasoning.

“Then why don't you go back to your apartment? I'm sure you'd be more comfortable there,” she posed, thinking that she'd be more comfortable as well if he wasn't always so close by. Of course, if he went home, she wouldn't be able to help take care of him. She felt obligated to do that since he'd been shot helping her. She wanted to help anyway, it just wasn't easy with the weirdness between them.

“No,” Angel said firmly. It was out of the question. He wasn't leaving Buffy alone until she was completely safe. “I may be hurt, but having both Faith and I with you is better. This psycho is escalating, Buffy. Shooting at you upped the ante.”

“I hate this!” she snapped, pacing a few steps. “I can't do anything!”

Angel walked over to Buffy and put a hand on her arm, halting her jerky movements. “I know this is hard. We're doing the best we can to catch whoever is after you.”

Sighing, Buffy pushed her hair back. “I know, I know. I'm not mad at you. I just...I can't stand this. Someone hates me so much they are stalking me and apparently trying to kill me. And I have no idea why!”

Against his better judgment, Angel used his good arm and wrapped it around Buffy's shoulders. Pulling her closer, he hugged her. She held herself stiffly against him for a moment, but then relaxed. Angel rested his cheek on the top of her head, feeling a peace within him that he couldn't explain. She just felt so right.

Buffy sighed, allowing the comfort of Angel's embrace to soothe her. She knew she was being weak, but she couldn't seem to help it. Everything was stressing her out. Some lunatic wanted to kill her, and Angel had been shot. Then there was her relationship – or whatever it was – with Angel. Who wouldn't be stressed? It felt good, though, to be held by Angel. He was like a giant, warm, man-sized security blanket. Except Buffy didn't think that security blankets typically got a person aroused. With Angel holding her like this, her breasts pressed against his chest, she couldn't stop the tingling that arose in her body.

Stepping away quickly, lest she make a fool of herself because Angel didn't want her, Buffy walked to the bed and picked up the bag of Angel's things. “I guess we, umm, can go now. If you're ready.”

“Yeah, sure.” He was scum, Angel told himself. Who got a stiffy just hugging someone? Him, obviously. He angled his body to hide the telltale bulge in his pants and started toward the door. It would go away soon. He hoped.

As he reached the door, the nurse he recognized as Tara entered the room, pushing a wheel chair in front of her. “R-ready to l-leave, Mr. Callahan?”

“Uhh, yeah.” Angel eyed the wheelchair warily. “I don't need that.”

“I-it's policy,” she said, positioning the chair and setting the brake.”

“I can walk just fine,” he reiterated his stance on the subject. He certainly did not need to be wheeled out of the hospital like some invalid.

“Just sit down, Angel,” Buffy stated, glaring at him. “You're not going to get out of here until you do.”

“Fine,” he grumbled and sat, wincing slightly as his shoulder bumped the back of the chair. “Let's get this over with.”

The group made their way to the elevator and then down to the first floor, speaking only when necessary. Buffy fought to keep a smile off her face. Angel was practically pouting over being made to ride in a wheelchair. It was pretty damn amusing, in her opinion.

Buffy pulled her car keys out of her pocket and glanced at Angel when they'd reached the outdoor entrance area. “I'll go bring the car around.”

In the blink of an eye, Angel had his hand clenched around Buffy's wrist, keeping her from walking off. “No.”

She eyed him in confusion. “What? It'll be easier to get you in the car if I bring it here.”

“You're not walking out there by yourself,” he stated, getting ready to push himself out of the chair. How could she even think about walking out there unprotected?

“But my car's right over there.” She pointed at her red Mercedes, parked not that far away. Angel would be able to see her the whole time.

“No,” he said again with a vehement shake of his head. He was taking no chances. “I can walk just fine. You don't need to bring the car around.”

“Oh fine. Whatever,” she gave in. There was no use arguing with him.

Ten minutes later, they were packed into Buffy's little car and on their way to her apartment. The ride was quiet, both focused on things other than talking. Angel's mind was drifting back to the night of the shooting. He hadn't really focused all that much on it while at the hospital, as being doped up on pain meds had kept him groggy and dazed most of the time. Now, he was fully considering the events of that night.

His heart lurched at the knowledge that Buffy had come so close to being killed. He knew he had, too, but it was her that he couldn't stop thinking about. When he'd realized the dark shadow on the sidewalk was holding a gun, he'd had one of those freaky life-flashing-before-your-eyes moments. Only it hadn't exactly been his life he'd seen. It had been his time with Buffy, and Buffy herself. They'd been only fleeting images, but they'd struck a chord.

What would have happened if he hadn't seen the person and the gun? Buffy would quite possibly be dead. The thought caused a shudder to work through him. He certainly didn't want her dead. He didn't want to see any innocent person uselessly gunned down, but the idea that Buffy could have been so easily harmed hurt in ways he couldn't describe.

He was in big trouble, Angel told himself. Against his better judgment, and against all the things he'd told himself when this had all started, he'd been drawn in by her once again. Yup, he was in big, big trouble. What he was going to do with that realization, he hadn't a clue. It'd come to him. Hopefully.

{====^====}

“It should warm up in a few minutes,” Buffy relayed after adjusting the thermostat inside her apartment.

A rather odd cold front had moved over Los Angeles, dropping the temperature over fifteen degrees below normal. It'd been raining off an on all morning as well, and the weather report had said that strong storms were possible. Definitely a good day to be stuck inside. Except that it meant she was stuck with Angel. Not an easy task when half the time he made her skin tingle and the other half she was a confused mess.

“It's not all that cold,” he answered, though it was a bit chilly. He was too used to the usual steamy California temperatures.

Shifting on the couch – where Buffy had ordered him as soon as they'd entered the apartment – he tried to think of something else to say or do. He never knew how to act around Buffy anymore. They always seemed to be walking on egg shells around each other these days. As much as he'd enjoyed their tryst in the kitchen several days ago, he wondered if it hadn't been a mistake. They'd been getting along fairly well before that. Since then, awkward was a mild term for how things were between them.

His eyes drifted to the left and he saw a TV sitting on the entertainment center. “You got a new TV.”

“Oh, yeah,” she shrugged and walked aimlessly in the direction of the object in question. “Faith and I went and got it yesterday. We figured it would keep you from getting too bored while you're, uh, recovering.”

“Thanks,” he replied, though it bothered him to think about how he was incapacitated.

“We got some movies too.” She picked up several DVD cases that would play in her also-brand-new DVD player

“You didn't have to spend so much,” he told her. “I could have read a book or two.”

“It wasn't that much. And it's not like I can't afford it.” A sardonic smile formed and Buffy shook her head. “My opening the other night was a big success.” That still baffled her somewhat, but she understood the reasoning behind it.

“Really? Even with...”

Buffy snorted. “All the excitement just drove the prices up more. According to my agent, this kind of thing, ya know controversy, almost getting killed, all that, just drives interest up. The gallery owner told me that every piece that was available for sale went for almost double the predicted prices.”

“Wow. That's, uh...good. I guess.” Weird, too, but Angel knew that was how things worked in this crazy world.

“Yeah. So even though I could afford a new TV and DVD player before, I can really afford them now.” And normally she enjoyed shopping, Buffy thought silently, but the whole time she and Faith had been out yesterday, she'd been looking over her shoulder. A trip to the mall would have been fun, but after picking out the TV and DVD player, all Buffy had wanted to do was go home and get away from the crowds of people.

“So...wanna watch a movie?” she continued, deciding it was the safest thing for them to do.

“Sure,” he answered, though it really didn't matter to him. Angel suppressed a yawn. Damn medicine was still making him tired.

Settling in, with Angel lounging on the couch and Buffy on the cushiony chair, they decided to watch xXx, which Angel enjoyed for the action, and Buffy sighed over Vin Diesel. They laughed over the fact that the main character was called Xander and Angel had a friend named Xander, who Buffy had met when he came to install new locks on her doors what seemed like ages ago. Mostly, they just watched without talking.

Halfway through the movie when Buffy made a comment about a scene and received no response, she glanced over at Angel. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and steady. He was asleep. The sight made her smile. And sigh. What she wouldn't give to just curl up next to him. Not possible, of course. Angel didn't want her like that. The kitchen incident had been a mistake.

Buffy picked up the remote and turned off the DVD and TV. They could finish watching the movie later. She might as well get some stuff done while Angel was sleeping. He would probably be hungry when he got up. She'd do a little cleaning and then figure out something to make for dinner. Her cooking skills were average, at best, but there had to be something she could throw together that wouldn't kill him.

As she started to walk away, she heard Angel shift on the couch. A pained expression crossed his face, the movement seeming to have hurt him, but he didn't wake. Poor guy, she thought. He had to be in a lot of pain.

His bag from the hospital was sitting next to the couch so Buffy decided she'd save him the trouble and put his things away herself. With his left arm mostly useless for now, he would probably hurt himself if he tried to do it on his own. Still, she felt a little guilty pawing through his stuff. Hopefully he wouldn't mind the favor.

Once inside Dawn's room – the room Angel was using while staying with her – she dumped the bag out on the bed. There wasn't been much inside. The clothes he'd been wearing the night of the opening were there, covered with blood. Her fingers touched the dried stains and she shuddered. She forced herself not to think about what had happened.

The clothes would probably have to be thrown away, but she'd let Angel decide that. For now, she set them on top of the dresser. Also in the bag were his watch, a silver necklace he wore, and a roll of cherry Lifesavers. The candy made her smile. She didn't know Angel had a sweet tooth. She put those on the dresser as well, next to his gun, police badge, and wallet, which she'd brought home from the hospital the first time she'd come back to her apartment after the shooting. They weren't things that could be left at the hospital.

Left on the bed from the bag were several papers. The first was a two-sided sheet that had care instructions for his wound, how to manage the pain and also indications of infection, which if seen required immediate treatment. She read the sheet over thoroughly, determined to make sure everything possible was done to make sure Angel healed properly.

Beneath the after-care instructions, Buffy spied two smaller pieces of paper. Frowning, she picked them up and read them. Her scowl deepened when she realized that both were prescriptions. One seemed to be for a pain killer, and the other for an antibiotic. Angel hadn't said anything to her about needing to fill two prescriptions on the way home. Maybe he'd forgotten.

She nibbled on her lower lip and considered the problem. Angel really needed these medicines. The pain killer he would probably wave off, but the antibiotic was definitely necessary. He could get an infection if he didn't take it. The doctor, Lorne, had told her that given how well he was doing, the chance of infection was small, but it was more than possible.

What was she supposed to do now? Her eyes flicked to the window on one side of the room. There was a pharmacy only a few blocks away. She'd used it a few months ago when she'd had a sinus infection. It would probably only take her thirty minutes to pop over and get Angel's prescriptions filled. She took the two papers and walked out to the living room. Angel would kill her for considering it. She wouldn't be gone long, though, and it was still daylight. She'd be safe, wouldn't she? And she certainly wouldn't mind doing something on her own.

Buffy gripped the papers tighter and considered waking Angel to go with her. He looked so peaceful at the moment. She just couldn't make herself wake him. There probably wasn't much pain when he was sleeping. Who was she to deprive him of some comfort? Besides, she could probably be out and back before he even noticed. Or she could wait for Faith to arrive. Buffy checked her watch. Who knew when her friend would finally show up. She was already almost an hour late.

Sighing, Buffy picked up her cordless phone and dialed Faith's cell number. The least she could do was try to reach her. Maybe Faith was on her way over now. Buffy got no answer, though. It just clicked over to voicemail so she hung up. Now what?

She'd get the prescriptions filled, that's what. She wasn't helpless or a coward. And she was really tired of having her life dictated by this psycho. Determined, she strode over to the small table by the door and picked up her car keys and purse. Thirty minutes, that's all it would take.

Hesitating at the door, she glanced back at Angel. She should leave him a note. He'd freak out if he woke up and didn't know where she was. A short note would take care of that. Well, not really. He'd still freak out, but at least he'd know where she went. So she jotted down a few short lines on the notepad she kept on the little table and walked out the door. Thirty minutes and she'd be back. He probably wouldn't even know she'd left.

{====^====}

Faith walked down the sidewalk and felt like pulling her hair out. The interview she'd had to do was only supposed to have taken a half hour. Instead, she'd been stuck with the neurotic, rambling twit for over an hour and forty-five minutes. And all over a missing statue. Some rich, eccentric business man was sure one of his staff had stolen his ugly marble figurine of elephants or giraffes or whatever it was and had babbled to her for almost two hours about it. Weirdo.

She hadn't even been able to call Buffy to tell her she'd be late. Faith hoped there hadn't been any problems getting Angel home from the hospital. At least she'd be at Buffy's soon. All she had to do was drive a few miles.

As she pulled open the driver's side door of her car, Faith glanced down and groaned. Great. A flat tire. A fucking, goddamned flat tire. Just her shitty luck.

Her hand darted to her hip for her cell phone and came up empty. She groped around, thinking the clip had shifted and her hands encountered only her belt. What the hell? Looking down, she frowned when she saw nothing. Where the hell was her cell phone?

{====^====}

Striding quickly, Buffy's footsteps echoed through the parking garage. The sound made her twitchy. The garage made her twitchy. Everything made her twitchy. Maybe she should have walked instead of opting to take her car. Maybe she should have stayed in her apartment.

The car's only a few feet away, Buffy told herself. Soon she'd be locked safe inside. She kept that thought in mind the last few steps. Her breath whooshed out when she finally made it to the car's door. She'd made it. Everything would be just fine.

Buffy jabbed the key into the lock.

And had only a split-second to react to the sudden feeling that someone was behind her. It wasn't enough time.

Pain exploded inside her head and she slumped against the car door as the world around her went black.

{====^====}
Part 15
{====^====}

A loud crack jolted Angel from sleep and he lurched to a seated position on the couch, immediately regretting the motion as pain shot through his shoulder. He clasped his left forearm with his right hand, keeping the injured area still to prevent further movement. As he did so, he scanned the room, searching for the source of the noise that had rudely torn him from the dream he'd been having that involved a secluded cove, a white sand beach, and Buffy in a teeny, tiny bikini.

His first scan of the room revealed nothing. The apartment was mostly dark, only the glow of the TV on mute and a small table lamp provided illumination. The sun must have set, Angel realized, from the sight of the black sky through the window. None of that, though, told him what had woken him up. He frowned, brows lowering over his eyes.

A flash followed by another crack finally revealed what had pulled him from sleep. It was thundering. Angel pushed himself up off the couch and wandered to the window. Heavy rain spattered against the glass and more lightning flashed. The following rumble of thunder was so loud it vibrated the glass of the window. Angel was immensely glad he wasn't out in such a wicked storm.

Turning away from the window, he studied the apartment again. Aside from the storm, it was quiet. Too quiet. The lack of noise, or even movement, unnerved him. Where was Buffy? He strode over to the kitchen and peeked inside. No Buffy. Flipping on the switch for the overhead light in the living room, his worry grew. There was no sign of her.

“Bu-” he started to call out when a loud knock on the door interrupted.

Angel quickly rushed to the door and peered through the spy-hole. He could see Faith standing on the other side, shaking water off her hair. Yanking the door open, he asked anxiously, “Where's Buffy?”

“What do you mean, where's Buffy?” Faith repeated, her hands immediately stilling in the act of brushing rain off her leather jacket. Worry reached up and gripped her heart. Angel looked frantic.

“I don't know where she is,” he answered, pacing back into the room. “BUFFY?!” he shouted.

No answer came.

“Shit!” Faith cursed, stalking after Angel. “How the hell can she not be here?”

“I don't know!” he growled back at her. “We started watching a movie after we got back from the hospital. I fell asleep on the couch. I don't know how long I was asleep, but the storm woke me up, and when it did, she wasn't here!”

“Okay. Calm down, Angel,” she put a reassuring hand on his arm, though it did little good. “She's probably around here somewhere. Maybe she went to do laundry or something.”

“She knows better than to go off on her own!” Angel roared, turning to eye every inch of the apartment as if Buffy had to be somewhere nearby.

“Umm, yeah,” she somewhat agreed. Faith hoped Buffy had better sense than to go somewhere without one of them. But then, she wouldn't exactly put it past Buffy to give a symbolic finger to the situation by doing whatever the hell she felt like doing.

“Where the hell is she then?!” he yelled at Faith.

Wow, Angel really had a pair of lungs on him, Faith thought, taking a step back from an irate Angel. “First off, you need to stop screaming. It won't do a damn bit of good.” And she really didn't need Angel busting her eardrums.

“I'll do whatever the hell I want to do!” he shouted to no one in particular.

Faith rolled her eyes, though she wasn't feeling much amusement. Truth be told, she was freaked out. Where in the world could Buffy be? She knew her friend was growing more and more frustrated with the situation, especially after Angel had been shot, but she didn't think Buffy would do anything to put herself in danger. Would she? Faith cracked her knuckles and shook her hands, a useless gesture in hopes of relieving tension. She had to think.

“Think,” she mumbled to herself. Her eyes wandered the room and lit on the little table just inside the door. What she saw, or rather didn't see, caused unease to run down her spine. “Her keys are gone.”

“What?” Angel snapped, whipping around to look at Faith despite the pain it caused his shoulder.

“She always leaves her keys on that table,” she pointed to it, “so that she won’t lose them. She was always leaving them in random places before.”

Marching over to the table, Angel felt his worry growing to epic proportions. Something wasn't right. He could feel it in his gut. His heart sank like a stone when he saw a sheet of paper, with a few lines written on it, lying on the table. Reaching for it, he picked it up with shaking hands, and scanned the few sentences scrawled on it.

“Damnit!” he growled, hands clenching on the paper.

“What's wrong?” Faith asked, walking up to Angel and leaning over him to read whatever he'd found. Instantly, she saw what had caused his distress. Buffy had indeed decided to do something stupid, regardless of the danger she was in. On the note paper, their worst fears were confirmed.

“Angel -

I found your two prescriptions in the bag from the hospital. Went to the pharmacy a few blocks away to fill them.

Be back soon!

Buffy”

“Fuck!” Faith cursed heartily.

“How could she do something so stupid?” Angel bit out, tossing the note back on the table.

“She's Buffy,” answered Faith, as if it explained all. “She'll probably be back any minute.” She hoped.

“I don't like this,” he muttered, pacing across the room. “Something isn't right.”

“What?”

Angel didn't answer. He strode to the couch and picked up his coat. Checking the pocket, he made sure he had his cell phone before pulling it on over his right arm. His left still hurt too much to push it into the sleeve so he simply pulled the leather over his shoulder. All set, he walked quickly to the door, completely ignorant of Faith's worried stare.

“Where are you going?” she asked, exasperated at his behavior.

“To look for Buffy,” he replied shortly and then was gone.

Faith watched him go, feeling helpless and worried. She had a bad feeling that Angel was right. Something had happened. She just didn't know what yet. Picking up Buffy's cordless phone off the end table by the couch, she quickly dialed.

“Kate,” she greeted the person who answered. “We got trouble on the Summers case. You and Miller get your asses over here ASAP.”

{====^====}

The first thing Buffy became aware of was the pulsing pain in her head. It was like there was a heavy metal band playing at full decibel in her skull. Not even a good heavy metal band. A royally bad one with relentless bass, drums and screaming, nonsensical vocals. She had the vague thought the she wished it was Metallica. At least she didn't mind their music.

Why did her head hurt so bad? Must have been some party she'd been at. No, that wasn't right, Buffy corrected herself. She didn't party anymore. She only ever had an occasional glass of wine. There was no way she had one hell of a hangover. Unless she'd done something truly stupid. Had she?

God, why wouldn't her head stop pounding? At least just a little? She shifted her arms, intending to press her hands against her aching head. Nothing happened. She tugged more at her arms and felt resistance. They were somehow stuck above her head. How had that happened? She twisted and pulled, this time feeling something biting into each of her wrists.

Realization hit her. Her arms were bound!

And that's when the memory returned. Angel's prescriptions. Walking to her car. Feeling...something..behind her. Then pain.

Buffy's eyes snapped open, only to be met with darkness. Her heart pounded and her head throbbed. Oh God. Oh God. She knew with a sickening clarity what had happened.

Whoever was after her had finally got her. And it was all her fault. She'd been stupid. So fucking stupid! She should have listened to Angel and Faith. Why couldn't she just do what she was supposed to for once? Now she was as good as dead. Her lips trembled and tears formed in her eyes. She didn't want to die.

A cold shiver worked through her body and Buffy shifted her legs. They were left bare by the shorts she was wearing and the floor was hard and chilly. Concrete? she wondered. What did it matter anyway? She was being held hostage. Her arms were bound. Her head was splitting. Those were the important facts. And they meant she was completely screwed.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, Buffy rested her head on her legs, feeling mild relief of the pain radiating through her brain. What was she supposed to do now? She had no doubt in her mind what her stalker's final intent was. This person wanted her dead. Shooting at Angel had proven that. And now it was her turn.

The thought of her death that was surely upcoming sent another chill down Buffy's spine. She did not want to die. Not now. Not when her life was finally making sense. Not when she had finally put her past behind her and was moving forward. Not when Angel was back in her life, for however short a period that would be. She just couldn't die now.

No! Buffy shook her head, the motion making her nauseous. She was not going to die. Or at the very least, she wasn't going down without a fight.

Buffy pushed herself up on her knees. She had to get her hands free. Groping around, she tried to find a way out of the bindings around her wrists. There was no use. The cuffs around her wrists were metal and seemed to be attached to chains. No way she could break them. It didn't stop her from trying. She twisted and pulled, hoping that they would break loose. It would help if she could see what she was doing, but the room was pitch black.

“You can try all you want,” came a disembodied voice.

“Wh-Who's there?” Buffy asked, her fear obvious. She couldn't see who was there. She could only hear...her?

“Now that's an interesting question,” the voice said. “Isn't it?”

The sound of her captor shot a shiver down Buffy's entire body. Her – Buffy was sure it was a female – tone was so cruel and cold.

And familiar.

{====^====}

Inside the living room of Buffy's apartment, numerous police men and women were standing at attention, all their focus on their colleague, Angel Callahan. Water dripped off Angel's clothes and hair as he stood in the center of the room, his face pale and tired. His left arm was cradled against his body, pain from his shoulder wound obvious in his expression. He looked at each of the officers present, barely seeing their faces, as Buffy's gentle smile and shining green eyes flashed in his mind. He knew the others were waiting for him to speak so he took a deep breath and briefed them on his search for Buffy.

“Buffy's note said she was going to a pharmacy a few blocks away. There are two pharmacies within a ten block radius of her apartment. I went to both,” he explained, completely oblivious to his soaked clothes and the chill that was causing him to shiver. “Neither pharmacy recognized Buffy's picture, and neither had record of my prescriptions being filled.”

“She never made it,” Faith concluded, her fear ratcheting up yet another notch. This was not good. Not good at all.

“It doesn't look like it,” agreed Angel, forcing himself to be objective though he was petrified. “I drove up and down the roads between here and the two pharmacies, and saw no sign of her.”

“Fuck!” Faith threw the notepad in her hand across the room. It seemed as though their worry was entirely valid. Something had happened to Buffy. “If only I hadn't been late!”

“Why were you late?” he asked, his tone neither accusing nor comforting.

“I had to interview someone for a case. Guy was a fucking chatterbox. Then when I came out, the damn front left tire on my car was flat,” she relayed, pacing anxiously around the room. “And my cell phone has fallen off the face of the earth so I couldn't call.”

“About that tire,” another officer butted in, “we got a call from the car guys at the station. The tire was punctured, probably by a knife.”

“What?! How the hell...never mind,” Faith shook off the questions of how and why for now. They needed to find Buffy. “Obviously this fucker had a plan, and this time everything fell into place.”

A loud knock sounded and everyone's attention turned toward the door. An officer nearby opened it and found himself facing a group of worried faces. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” the officer asked, blocking the doorway.

“We're friends of Buffy's,” the man at the front of the group answered.

“I'm sorry-.”

“Let 'em in!” Faith shouted from inside the apartment.

The officer scowled at her but allowed the group to enter, closing the door behind them. Soon, the living room was crowded with five more people. Angel recognized all of them. Faith's boyfriend Spike stood in the lead, and behind him were Fred, Wesley, Cordelia and Gunn. All the people who were close to Buffy. But what were they doing here?

“How did you know what's going on?” he asked more harshly than he probably should have.

“I called Spike and told him,” Faith answered.

“And I called everyone else,” Spike added with a nod to the people behind him. “They deserved to know.”

“Fine, just don't get in the way.” Angel said sharply. A sudden thought occurred to him. “What about Buffy's family?”

“Don't worry, I talked to Giles,” assured Faith. “He wanted to come up right away, but I told him he and Jenny should stay in Sunnydale in case Buffy tries to contact them. Or the person who took her.”

“Good, good,” nodded Angel. “We need to-”

“We found something!” Officer Kate Lockley shouted as she burst through the door, holding a small bag.

“What is it?” Angel snatched the bag from her and stared at it. Inside the plastic was a gold keychain of an artist's palette and paintbrush. The little hook that would attach the charms to a key ring was broken. “Where was it?” he asked quietly.

“Just underneath her car in the basement garage.” Seeing Angel's distressed look, Kate put a hand on his shoulder. Despite whatever tensions existed between them, she didn't wish harm on him or the young woman who seemed to mean so much to him. “It might not be hers.”

“It is,” Faith interjected, taking the bag from Angel. “Dawn – Buffy's sister – gave it to her when Giles got her the car before her first show in Los Angeles.”

“Maybe it broke last time she was down there,” Kate tried again to ease the sudden increase in tension in the room.

No one called Officer Lockley on the blatant attempt to divert worry. They all knew what she was trying to do. And none of them believed the excuse.

Another officer dashed into the room. “We found something else in the garage!” In his hand was a Polaroid photograph. “Blood, on the concrete a few feet away from the car. Lab guys say it's fresh.”

Angel ripped the picture out of the officer's hands and stared at it. The image showed the concrete floor of the garage. In the center, several nickel-sized spatters of red glared brightly at Angel. His hands shook. All the fears he'd been fighting off since he'd awoken were coming to fruition. Buffy had been taken by the sick freak that seemed intent on destroying her.

The photo was tossed haphazardly on the coffee table as Angel walked slowly out of the living room, toward the bedroom Buffy had given him to stay in. He felt as if something was clawing his heart right out of his body. Buffy was gone. He was supposed to have been protecting her. Some bodyguard he turned out to be.

{====^====}

Though the room, or wherever she was, was still pitch black, Buffy could sense her attacker drawing nearer. It made the hair on her arms stand up. She pressed herself further against the cold wall at her back. There had to be a way out of this! She was not going to die!

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” the female voice said. “You might as well give up. You're stuck here.”

The last sentence was spoken so close to Buffy that she could feel the person's breath against her face. She fought to keep from whimpering and tried to move as far away as possible from her unseen assailant. There was something utterly sinister about the female's voice – for she was sure it was a female. And someone she knew.

Who? she screamed in her head. Buffy focused on the voice, trying to remember where and when she'd heard it. It was so familiar. She was positive she somehow knew whoever the woman was. Which made sense. Why would a stranger do this to her? It had to be someone she knew. But Buffy couldn't figure out the owner of the feminine voice.

“Who are you?” she whispered to the so far faceless female.

An evil laugh greeted her question. “So you haven't figured it out yet?”

Buffy felt a whisper of air move past her, then heard a scraping sound. Soon a small glow could be seen to her right. A match? The flame moved and Buffy squinted to try to figure out what the woman was doing. Soon, the match illuminated a candle, and then another. The two now lit candles provided some light, but not much. It did allow Buffy the opportunity to see the shape of a person, but that was all she was able to make out.

“Please? Why are you doing this?” Buffy begged, not caring that her voice trembled.

Another laugh met her plea. “Please! Why are you doing this!” the female mocked Buffy. “Give me a break!”

The figure moved closer to Buffy, but she was still unable to see any features. It seemed as though the person was wearing some sort of covering. Like a cloak, with a hood over the head. Whatever it was, it kept Buffy from seeing the woman fully, even in the dim light of the two candles.

“You want to know why?” the female said, then leaned close to Buffy's face. “Figure it out.”

The cloaked woman backed away and studied her quarry. “Poor, poor Buffy,” she teased with a sarcastic chuckle. “All tied up and nowhere to go. I feel so, so sorry for you.” She laughed yet again.

Buffy thought the laugh sounded a bit mad, as if whoever this woman was, she wasn't functioning on all her brain cells. That didn't bode well for Buffy. A crazy stalker was much worse than a debatably sane one, if there was such a thing as a sane stalker.

“I'll do whatever you want,” Buffy croaked hoarsely.

“Hmm, you'll do whatever I want?” the voice repeated. “What I want, is for you to pay!!”

“I don't understand.” Buffy felt tears begin to trail down her cheeks. She couldn't stop them, and she was too scared to worry too much about it.

“You ruined my life,” she snapped, moving close to Buffy once again. She trailed delicate, feminine fingers up Buffy's arm until she reached her hands. “And now I plan to ruin yours.”

The contact and the threat made bile rise in Buffy's throat. “Please, I'll do anything.”

“I already told you what I want,” the female told her, leaning close to Buffy's face again. She cocked her head and studied Buffy. “I hear you're an artist these days. Can't paint if your fingers don't work, now can you?”

Buffy felt a strong grip on one of her fingers and her heart begin to pound. With a quick twist and snap, searing pain shot through her hand.

Her anguished scream echoed throughout the darkened room.

{====^====}

Angel spent five minutes sitting on the bed in Dawn's room. He knew he should be out with the others forming a plan, but he'd needed a few minutes to himself. His shoulder was throbbing, but he barely felt the pain. It didn't matter if he was hurting. Whatever pain he felt was nothing compared to what Buffy was going through right now.

His eyes drifted to the night table where a picture of Buffy and her sister sat in a shiny silver frame. He picked it up, never taking his eyes off Buffy's smiling face. So beautiful. Angel pressed a hand to the ache in his heart. It felt like part of him was missing. And it suddenly occurred to him why that was.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Angel drew in a deep breath. Why, of all times, did he have to figure out now how he felt about Buffy? He tucked the revelation away in the back of his mind. He would deal with it later. Right now, finding Buffy was what mattered most. When she was back home where she belonged, he would make things right with her.

With a last look at the picture, he set it back on the nightstand and stood. Time to get to work. They couldn't waste anymore time if they had any hope of finding Buffy alive. He walked with false confidence out of the room and down the hallway. Once in the living room, everyone stopped what they were doing and eyed him.

“Okay, have we found out anything new?” he asked, coming to stand next to Faith.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “We're canvassing everyone in the area to see if they saw anything, but so far we haven't found shit.”

“We sent the blood samples to the lab,” Kate relayed. “DNA match will take a while, but typing matched it to the blood type we have on record for Buffy.”

Angel nodded. He'd figured as much. “We have to assume that Buffy went down to her car to go to the pharmacy. She probably meant to drive considering it's raining,” he reasoned, striding the few steps to the window. “So she goes down to her car. Taking into account where the key chain was found, it's possible she was standing at the driver's side door when her assailant approached.”

“Buffy had to be subdued somehow, and since there was blood, it's likely she was hit in the head and knocked unconscious,” Faith postulated, taking over from Angel.

“How do we know whoever it is just didn't kill her?” Cordelia interrupted. The mention of killing Buffy made everyone stare at her. “What? It's a logical question!”

“Killing her would have been too quick,” Angel mumbled half to himself. “This person wants her to pay for something. Buffy was probably knocked out and taken somewhere.”

“The question is by whom, and to where,” added Kate.

Someone knocked on the door and Faith scowled at it. “Who the hell could that be?”

Angel waved Faith off and moved to answer the knock himself. He opened the door, seeing a young man standing tensely on the other side. The man was vaguely familiar, Angel thought, but he couldn't place the unknown male.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“Yeah, I...umm,” the visitor looked down, drew in a deep breath and returned his eyes to Angel's. “I think I know who is after Buffy.”

{====^====}
Part 16
{====^====}

“Aww, did that hurt?” the voice mocked Buffy.

Sweat broke out on Buffy's brow, down her back and chest. Shooting pain streaked across her hand. Buffy couldn't stop the tears that fell from her eyes. She knew the bones in her right forefinger had just been snapped. Why else would it hurt so much?

Her unknown captor took a step back and walked in a semi-circle around Buffy. The woman chuckled and came to stand in front of Buffy again. She cocked her head and stared at her prisoner. Such a pleasing sight, the woman thought. All that pain and fear. It sent shivers through her body.

“Why so sad, Buff?” she asked. “Is your wittle finger making you cry?”

Buffy didn't dare answer. She would not give away anything to her tormentor unless absolutely necessary. Admitting her pain would only give the woman pleasure. That was something she would not do. Her tears may be unavoidable – one could only handle so much pain – but actually saying it out loud would be playing into the shadowed figure's hand.

“Not gonna talk to me?” The woman tssked, turned and walked across the room.

The lack of decent lighting didn't allow Buffy to see what she was doing. That freaked her out even more. Who knew what the psycho was doing now? Buffy wasn't sure what could be worse than the intense pain in her finger. No, that wasn't true. There was something worse she could image, like being killed.

An image of Angel, asleep on her couch, popped into Buffy's mind. How long ago had it been since she'd left him lying there? Hours? Days? She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious. Did Angel know she was missing? Maybe he'd seen her note and thought she was just out getting his medicine. Who knew how long it would take him or Faith to figure out that something wasn't right. She could very well be dead by the time someone realized she'd been kidnapped.

If Buffy had to think about something as morbid as a last request, it was simply to see Angel one last time. She'd tell him again that she was sorry for all the trouble she'd caused him in Sunnydale four years ago. And she'd tell him she loved him. Buffy didn't know when or how that had happened, but she knew it was true.

When they'd first been together all those years ago, she'd been attracted to him, cared about him. To call it love then would have been pushing it. She'd been too lost in herself to truly love somebody. When she'd finally straightened her life out, she'd missed his company, his laughter, but mostly she'd just missed him.

Buffy never thought that he would pop back up in her life. But when he did, all the feelings from the past returned, and intensified. Somewhere along the way, those feelings had turned into love. Angel was such a good person at heart. How could she not love him?

Now she may never see him again. She wished she could tell him she loved him. He didn't feel the same way, of that she was sure. Angel tolerated her. She didn't think he hated her any longer, but there were no fluffy bunny feelings for her on his end. Still, she wanted to tell him how she felt, and that she was grateful to have had him in her life for such a short time. Knowing him had helped make her a better person.

“Whatcha thinkin' about?” interrupted her captor.

Again, Buffy refrained from answering.

“Not talking? Pity. I bet I can make you scream!” The woman lurched forward and laughed when Buffy jumped and cringed. “So you are scared? Good, you should be. The screaming will have to wait, though. I have something else in mind first.”

Since the light was so dim, Buffy couldn't clearly see whatever the woman held up in her hand. All Buffy could tell was that it was long and maybe shiny. A knife? She shuddered, thinking of what a knife could do to her.

“It's a bit chilly in here, don't you think?” her loony kidnapper asked. “I think you're looking a bit too comfortable over there. We certainly can't have that.”

When the woman stepped closer, Buffy was finally able to tell that the shiny object was in fact a large, metal pair of scissors. Her eyes widened in fear when they started snipping up the front of her shirt. She wanted to struggle, but knew it would be utterly useless. All she could do was sit there as her shirt fell open and then completely off when the arm holes were cut.

Her shorts followed her shirt onto the floor. Two long slices up the outsides, and they were reduced to scraps. Buffy shivered as the chill in the room became more pronounced. All she had on now was a tiny pair of panties and her bra. They wouldn't provide much warmth.

To her ever growing horror, those didn't last long either. A couple of cuts, and the skimpy material of both fell away, leaving Buffy naked. She wished her hands were free so that she could cover herself, though she supposed that being naked was the least of her worries right now.

“I'll bet the cement is nice and cold,” taunted the female. “Isn't that just like a slut, standing around naked?”

Despite the rage building inside her, Buffy kept quiet. But she was furious. Who was this freak? Why did she hate her? What was she going to do? If she was going to be tortured and killed, the least this lunatic could do was clue her in on the very important details she was missing. She would not beg, though. She would not give the woman that satisfaction.

“Must be like old times for you, huh?” taunted the woman. “You used to love to flaunt yourself, wearing whore's clothes and throwing yourself at men.”

“I saw you with him, you know?” she continued to ramble while pacing agitatedly. “I saw you all over him! He would still be with me if it weren't for you! You think you're so special and good now, don't you? Wearing fancy clothes, painting stupid pictures. You're nothing but lying, whoring trash!”

The woman lunged at Buffy, her anger making her entire body shake. Before Buffy could even blink an eye, the raging female had the middle finger of her right hand tightly gripped. With a violent twist, the bone snapped and Buffy couldn't stop the screamed that erupted from her. The lancing pain was brutal, not even her strongest determination to remain cool could have kept her silent.

“I doubt you'll be painting any more pretty pictures with broken fingers!” The woman took a deep breath and paced away from Buffy, seeming to regain some control.

“A life for a life, Buffy,” she stated calmly. “I had everything until you opened your big mouth! You took my life away from me, and now I'm taking yours.”

Again she walked over to a part of the room Buffy could not see. Last time, it had been scissors. If Buffy could think past the pain in her hand, she'd be worried over what was next. As it was, though, the throbbing in her fingers had her mind too muddled.

She drew in several deep breaths, willing the pain away. She had to think. There had to be something she could do! Buffy focused her mind away from the pain, which was just beginning to fade into very slight numbness. For now, she would not worry about the state of her fingers and what the injuries would mean to her future. If she even had one.

Something was niggling in the back of her mind. Something to do with the barbs her kidnapper had tossed at her. From the woman's words, Buffy was positive she knew her in some way. The loony bitch was too familiar with her life and her past to have not been at least an acquaintance. But that wasn't what was bothering Buffy. It was the woman's identity. Buffy tried to remember the words that had been said and how they related to things in her life.

There had been something about a man. The woman's boyfriend. No, she'd said something about them not being together anymore and blamed Buffy for that. The man had been someone Buffy had somehow been close too. But who? And how had she ruined the psycho's life? Something about opening her big mouth? Wasn't that what the woman had said?

Buffy tried to put the pieces together, but she could not form a whole. No matter which way she looked at the few facts she had, she couldn't put the puzzle together. She hadn't ever stolen anyone's boyfriend. She wasn't aware of ever doing anything to ruin someone's life. How could she understand any of this when none of it made sense?

Whatever the reason all this was happening to her, Buffy knew she couldn't give up. She had to stay strong. She wasn't dead yet. There was still a chance she would survive this. But that meant she had to remain focused and not give in to the fear or the pain. If she let herself be overwhelmed, she was as good as dead. And she did not want to die! Not now, not after everything she'd already managed to survive in her life!

The shuffle of feet on the concrete alerted Buffy that the psycho bitch was walking toward her once again. Buffy stiffened her spine and forced herself to be calm. Whatever was coming next, she could handle it. She pictured Angel in her mind, thought of him sleeping on her couch, and told herself that he would find her. Everything would be okay. It had to be.

All of this would be so much easier to deal with if the room wasn't so dark. Then she could see what was coming at her and not be left guessing. Then again, being able to see everything might reveal things she didn't want to know.

“How are those fingers feelin'?” the wicked voice asked. “Stings a bit, doesn't it? Not half as much as it should considering all the pain you caused me!”

The woman paced around Buffy, her fury growing. “What will you do with yourself when you can't paint anymore? That pretty little life you made for yourself will be wiped away. Which is no less than you deserve. Who will care about a crippled artist?”

Buffy knew what was being said to her had a modicum of truth to it, but the last thing she cared about right now was whether her fingers had been injured so badly that she'd never paint again. The only thing that mattered was surviving. Her captor didn't seem to realize that, and Buffy had no intention of cluing her in.

A click sounded and through the shadows in the room, Buffy could see her kidnapper raise something up to her face. She squinted in the dim light, trying to see what was about to happen. It was no use. The glow from the candles just didn't reach that far.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash followed by a grinding noise and a series of clicks. The bright light made Buffy flinch and squeeze her eyes shut. After being in the dark for so long, the flash seemed to burn her retinas. Through her closed eyes, she caught the slight brightening and heard more clicks. It took only a second for her to figure out what the woman was doing.

Pictures. She was taking pictures. Buffy flinched again, her back pressing tightly against the wall behind her. Her clothes had been cut off, leaving her naked with her arms shackled above her head. And the lunatic was taking pictures of her. Not good.

“Shy, Buffy?” she taunted. “You never used to be. I bet those fancy new friends of yours will be quite shocked to see these. But really, they need to see them. They need to know what a lying slut you are. I'm just helping them to understand. These pictures will do just the trick.”

Frowning, Buffy stared at the woman. She certainly didn't want naked pictures of her circulating among her friends, but Buffy couldn't understand her captor's intent. If people saw naked pictures of her all tied up, they would realize something wasn't right, that she was being forced. That would negate whatever effect the woman hoped to gain. The freak was even more loony than Buffy thought if her plans were so obviously ill-fated.

Another flash came, distracting Buffy from her thoughts. This time, though, her eyes remained open. And on her kidnapper. This time, through the illumination of the flash, she got a glimpse of who hated her so much as to do all this. She had only a split second to see, but it was long enough to show some of the woman's face and hair.

And finally, Buffy knew. The pieces fell into places and it all made sense.

“Oh God,” she whispered. She knew who it was holding her captive and torturing her...

{====^====}

“Willow Rosenberg,” the man at the door told Angel.

“What are you talking about?” asked Angel, grabbing the man's arm and dragging him into the room. Everyone else present was staring at them, waiting with baited breath over the possibility of finally getting a lead on Buffy's disappearance.

“My ex-girlfriend, Willow Rosenberg. I think she's the one after Buffy,” the man explained.

“You mean the person who kidnapped Buffy?” Spike snapped, stepping forward.

“What?” The man paled and finally noticed all of the people present in Buffy's apartment. “Buffy's missing?”

“Yes, since early this evening,” Angel replied tightly. He paused, trying to process what he'd been told. Whoever this guy was, he knew he'd seem him before. “I've seen you somewhere...”

The man nodded. “At Buffy's opening the other night. You were walking outside with her.”

“Right,” Angel thought for a moment. “Oz, wasn't it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so you know each other,” Faith jumped in. “Can we get back to this Willow-person who may or may not have Buffy?”

“Tell us what you know,” Angel demanded, arms crossed over his chest.

“Willow hates Buffy,” relayed Oz, all the while trying to reconcile what he was inferring with the sweet girlfriend he'd once had. “And before you ask, I don't know why. I haven't talked to her much since we broke up about a year ago. But...”

“What?” Spike ordered, looking as stern as Angel.

Oz hesitated for a moment. He hated what he was saying, hated the possibility that Willow could have done all the things he read about in the paper, along with shooting Angel. And now Buffy was missing...he couldn't take the chance that he was wrong. He had to tell him the little he knew.

“Like I said, Willow hated Buffy...really hated her. I only know this from mutual friends we still have. They said she is always ranting about Buffy. Then...” he took a deep breath and continued. “I ran into her about two days after the opening...when Angel was shot.. She hardly resembled the girl I'd known. Her clothes were all black. Her hair looked like it had been dyed black, but it was fading to red again. And she said something about Buffy and me being best buds now and she got this look on her face...it scared me.”

Faith pondered the story and paced across the room. It was a possibility...but she wasn't convinced yet. “Okay, so this chick hates Buffy, but that doesn't mean she is responsible for what's been goin' on.”

“It's the only lead we've got,” Angel shot back at her. Right now, he'd take anything because before Oz's visit, they'd had absolutely no clues. And if this guy was right...they might be able to get to Buffy before anything else bad happened to her. He turned back to Oz. “Do you know anything else?”

Closing his eyes for a second, Oz nodded. “After I saw her, I was worried. So I called some friends down in Sunnydale, where I used to live. They told me that Willow hasn't been around much, but that when they did see her, she was acting crazy and talking about revenge. Nobody understood what she meant.”

“Well, I'm convinced,” Spike said, looking to his group of friends for confirmation.

This new information was definitely promising, but Faith had her doubts. What if they went on a wild goose chase and something terrible happened to Buffy? On the other hand, Angel was right. It was all they had to go on so far. She looked to her friend and partner. “Well?”

“We've got nothing else to go on,” he told her. Hope was lurking in him that this was the lead they'd been searching for, but he tried to temper it with the knowledge that the information might not mean anything. Looking to Oz, Angel asked, “Do you have any idea where Willow might be?”

“No,” Oz shook his head. “She didn't tell me where she was living now. I think I might know a way you can find her, though.”

“How?” Faith demanded, suddenly eager to get going. If this guy was right...

{====^====}

“Why, Willow?” Buffy inquired in a soft voice, feeling utterly shaken. She never would have suspected...

The sound of her name – Willow – caused the woman to stiffen. The hand holding the camera fell to her side and she took a step back.

“So you figured it out?” Willow growled, eyes narrowed. “Why? Was that the question? Are you that stupid? Then again, you are blonde.”

“Please, Willow...whatever I did, we can talk about it,” Buffy begged, her arms jingling the chains holding her captive.

“Talk? You want to talk about how you ruined my life?” snapped Willow, striding forward until she was right in front of Buffy, glaring down at her.

“I didn't ruin your life!” Buffy denied.

“LIAR!” screamed Willow, raising her arm and back-handing Buffy across the left side of her face.

The blow sent Buffy's head snapping sideways. Little bursts of light exploded behind her eyes and her vision grayed. She kept her head still for a minute, willing the new pain to pass. She had to stay strong, Buffy told herself again. Acting weak was not an option.

As her head slowly cleared a little, she could taste the metallic flavor of blood in her mouth. Was her nose bleeding and running into her mouth? Buffy cautiously ran her tongue over her upper lip and felt a cut. No, her lip had been split from the hit, probably by her teeth. She turned her head and spit the blood on the floor. If only Willow was standing closer, she'd have spit on her.

“Wanna try that again when I'm not tied up, bitch?” Buffy ground out, her temper rising over the situation.

Willow reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out a sharp knife and waved it in front of Buffy. “Call me a bitch again and you can kiss that pretty little face of yours goodbye.”

Despite telling herself not to, Buffy swallowed hard. That knife looked wicked sharp. She didn't even want to think about what it could do to her face. Okay, so calling her a bitch probably hadn't been the best idea. Antagonizing a psycho was asking for trouble. She made a mental note of that.

“I'm sorry,” she lied, and added on 'bitch' silently.

“Whatever,” Willow muttered, but stuck the knife back into her cloak.

She turned away from Buffy and walked out of sight. Soon, dim overhead lights flickered on, illuminating the entire room. Buffy had to close her eyes against the brightness. Once her eyes had adjusted, she gazed around at her surroundings. There wasn't much to take in. She was in some large, empty room with a high ceiling and lots of concrete and stone. There was nothing else note-worthy that would help her figure a way out of this.

“Hmm, that's better,” intoned Willow, blowing out the two candles she'd lit previously. “Now that you've figured it out, there's no sense in not having better lighting. Plus, it'll make the pictures turn out better.” She held up the camera for Buffy to see.

Before she could start snapping pictures again, a shrill ring echoed into the room. Willow's head whipped around to stare at the doorway on the opposite side of the room. She grumbled something under her breath and put the camera down. As the sound came again, she marched out of the room.

A phone, Buffy realized. And it was somewhere just outside this room. She tucked that information away for later, in case it came in handy. Right now, her mind was too busy trying to get a full understanding of why Willow hated her so much.

Back when they'd been in high school together, they had really only been acquaintances. Willow had always been nerdy and quiet, while Buffy had been number one party girl. The only time their paths had ever really crossed was when Oz's, Willow's boyfriend's, band played at a party Buffy was at. They would say hi because Buffy and Oz were casual friends, but nothing more than that. Maybe if Buffy's life had been different, they would have been friends. But her life had been what it was, and she'd hung around with the wild people, not the studious ones.

Buffy hadn't even seen Willow for three years after leaving Sunnydale. Until that night at the Bronze. She was pretty sure that meeting was what all this was about, but the exact details were lost on her. Maybe if she understood it all, she could find some way out of this.

A few minutes later, Willow reentered the room. The red-head had what appeared to be a baffled expression on her face, though she quickly shook it off and turned her eyes on Buffy. The blazing hatred in them was not lost on Buffy. Whatever she'd done to Willow, it had made the other woman into something so completely different than she'd been.

“This is about that night at the Bronze last year, isn't it?” Buffy asked slowly. She didn't want to upset the lunatic anymore than she already was.

“No, this is about you opening your big mouth!” Willow shot back, throwing the camera on a table in the corner of the room. Seeing the blank look on Buffy's face, she explained.

“You told your uncle what you saw!” she shouted. “Your uncle worked at the library at the university and I talked to him often when I was in there. Imagine my surprise when he told me he knew! You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you!”

“But-”

“Shut up!” Willow screamed, picking up a heavy book from the table and throwing it at Buffy. It struck her sharply in the shoulder.

“Giles tried to act all fatherly, and when that didn't work, he went to my academic adviser,” she rambled on. “My adviser is an old college buddy of my Dad's so he felt it was his duty to inform my parents.”

It all was beginning to make complete sense to Buffy. She'd heard rumors about how strict the Rosenberg's were. Half the time, they didn't pay any attention to their daughter, but they always expected her to be absolutely perfect. Buffy thought she remembered hearing once that when Willow had gotten a B+ on a paper in high school, her parents had grounded her for a month. If they'd found out about what Willow was doing...she shuddered to think about what they might have done.

Even so, Buffy felt only slightly guilty for having set everything in motion. She'd only been worried about what Willow was involved in. After seeing her at the Bronze that night, Buffy had asked her uncle for advice. How was she to have known what would happen from there? She hadn't meant to cause an avalanche of problems.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, and she meant it. Not for getting involved in the first place – she'd only been trying to help – but for obviously causing Willow so much hurt.

{====^====}

Oz snapped his cell phone shut and glanced at Angel. “I tried to keep her on as long as I could. Did the trace work?”

Holding up a finger for quiet, Angel spoke into his own cell phone. He listened for a moment, then gestured for someone to hand him something to write with. Faith quickly scrambled for a pencil and paper and shoved it at Angel. She couldn't help the sense of anticipation building. Their plan seemed to have worked. Oz had been able to keep Willow on the phone long enough for the computer geeks at the station to trace the call. Thank God the cell phone number Oz had for Willow was still current.

Angel snapped his phone shut and faced the eager expressions of everyone in the room. “Willow is in Sunnydale.” He flicked his eyes down to the piece of paper in his hand. “1252 Crawford Street, Sunnydale, California.”

“The old mansion?” Oz mumbled.

“You know the place?” interrogated Faith.

“Sort of. It's this huge old stone place that has been abandoned for years.”

“Perfect if you're holding someone hostage,” Angel muttered. It was looking more and more like this Willow person was who they were looking for. “We need to get going. Now. The longer she has Buffy...” He didn't want to think about that. Willow had already shown she was unstable and violent.

Marching toward the door, determination in each step, Angel was halted by Kate's hand on his arm. “What?” he snapped, annoyed at the action.

“I think I can get some of us there quicker than driving,” she explained and yanked her cellphone off the clip on her belt.

Within five minutes, a group of Angel, Faith, Kate, and Oz were rushing out of the apartment up to the roof of Buffy's apartment building where a helicopter would be arriving shortly to pick them up. The rest of Buffy's friends were scrambling for their cars, insisting on going to Sunnydale themselves. And as the helicopter lifted off the roof and headed toward Sunnydale, Angel could only hope that they all weren't too late to save Buffy.

{====^====}
Part 17
{====^====}

Slowly, the helicopter carrying Angel, Faith, Kate and Oz descended onto a field just outside of Sunnydale, California. On a road nearby waited several cars from the Sunnydale police department, having been notified of the situation. Several officers that Angel had worked with while in Sunnydale were still with the department and he was glad to have their help. He had no idea what they would face once they arrived at the mansion on Crawford Street.

Once the helicopter was stationary on ground, the group climbed out and ran at a slight crouch toward the waiting cars. Angel recognized the lead man of the Sunnydale officers as Lindsay McDonald. Of all the officers on the Sunnydale PD, he was the one Angel had gotten to know the best in his short time as part of the department. Reaching Lindsay, Angel held out his hand and shook Lindsay's.

“Thanks for helping out,” Angel said to the man.

“No problem. Plus its our jurisdiction anyway,” he gave a cocky grin. “And I owe you for saving my ass during that B&E when that drunk lunatic was about to blow my face off.”

Angel rolled his eyes and moved on to introducing the others with him. They quickly focused on the situation at hand as Angel gave the Sunnydale cops the rest of the details he hadn't been able to give on the phone while in the helicopter. Those new to the case listened intently, knowing the situation was serious.

“Are you sure this Willow is the one who has Buffy?” Lindsay questioned.

“No.” Angel sighed in frustration. “We're pretty sure she's the one, and right now, it's all we've got.”

“Right.” Lindsay nodded. “Suggestions on how you think we should handle this?”

“Recon first,” posed Faith, jumping into the conversation. “We need to be sure Buffy is there before we go in with guns blazing.”

“Agreed. And we have to be careful. Whoever has been after Buffy – possibly Willow – is unstable. She's already shot me, so we have to handle this very carefully,” added Angel, giving his shoulder a rub. He'd never admit the pain he was in. That hardly mattered right now. He'd worry about it later.

“Are you sure you're up for this?” Faith asked, noticing how Angel held his injured shoulder.

“I'm fine,” Angel waved off her concern.

“Okay,” cut in Lindsay before the other two started arguing. “We go in quietly and stake out the place, look for any signs of Buffy and/or Willow. Once we have a fix on the place, then we'll decide what to do from there.”

“How far is it from here?” Faith inquired, jerking her head toward a map she saw on the hood of one of the cars nearby.

Lindsay gestured them all over to the map and pointed out their destination. “It's about ten minutes from here. The only access is from the street out front. We'll have to park out of sight and approach on foot.”

“A few from each side?” Angel wanted to know.

“Yeah. There are a lot of trees and shrubs. Plus the place is overrun with weeds and crap so it shouldn’t be hard to keep hidden.” He held out his hands to another officer and took the small devices handed to him. “Walkie Talkies to keep in contact.”

Each member of the group took one and listened to Lindsay's short explanation on how to use them and what frequency to tune into. With everything set up, the officers piled into their cars while those from LA climbed into the back of a van Lindsay directed them too.

Now that they were on the road and had a moment of calm - and didn't have to deal with the noise of the helicopter - Angel shifted his body to gaze at Oz. The young man had been quiet almost the entire time since leaving LA. Angel supposed he could understand that. Oz obviously cared a great deal about Willow, or had at one time, and was having a difficult time accepting all this. If he was in the other man's shoes, he'd be silent as well. There was something he wanted to know, though.

“Why did you and Willow break up?” he questioned Oz.

Oz flinched at the question, but knew he would have to answer. He was pretty sure Willow was the one responsible for kidnapping Buffy. He'd seen the way her eyes were a few days before. They'd been wild and full of rage. As much as he hated knowing what she had likely done, he had to face the truth. And in doing so, he had to make sure Angel and everyone else knew all the facts. Every detail mattered.

With a sad sigh, he explained. “I found out that she was using. Crystal meth,” he furthered.

“Is that how she and Buffy knew each other? They were part of the same scene in Sunnydale?” Angel said, trying to put all the pieces together. Oz looked at him sharply, seeming to be surprised. “I know about Buffy's past; what she was involved in,” he added.

Accepting the answer, Oz shook his head to Angel's question. “No, Buffy and Willow weren't even really friends. Willow was...she was...always so sweet,” he mumbled, drifting back into the past. “Everyone called her a geek. She was just focused on her school work.”

He sighed again, a look of defeat on his face. “That was the problem in the end. Her parents expected her to be perfect. They wanted her in the best classes, the hardest classes, and they wanted her getting straight A's in each one. If she didn't measure up, they acted like she'd committed a crime.”

“So she turned to crystal meth,” assumed Faith, understanding more now. “College students have been known to use it because it can keep you awake for days at a time, and it can sharpen your focus. Just the thing for someone under a lot of academic pressure.”

“I have no idea how long she'd been using,” continued Oz, feeling tired beyond his years and wondering how life had gotten so out of control. Once upon a time he'd had a great girlfriend and everything to look forward to. Now it was all gone, and getting worse by the minute. “I found out about a year ago. She knew I didn't like drugs. I've seen too many people get seriously messed up on them. So who knows how long she hid it from me. We got into a huge fight when I found out. Bottom line was that I told her that if she didn't give it up, that we were through.”

“She didn't give up the meth, so you left,” concluded Angel.

“Not right away. I kept trying to talk to her, but it didn't do any good. So in the end, I moved to LA with my band.”

“How did you find out she was juicin'?” Faith asked.

“Her parents found out somehow. They always hated me and so when they found out their little girl was using drugs, they blamed it on me. I went over to pick up Willow one night, and they cornered me, saying I'd turned their baby into a druggie,” he told the group, remembering how shocked he'd been when the Rosenbergs had told him Willow was using drugs.

“Man, that's rough,” muttered Faith

“We're here,” came Lindsay's voice suddenly.

The van pulled to a stop behind a line of police cars. They gathered together on the side of the road, planning who would go in which direction and emphasizing the need to keep their presence unknown until they'd assessed the situation. Lindsay questioned Oz's continued presence, considering he wasn't a cop. Angel knew it was possibly dangerous to have Oz come with them, but he knew they might need him to talk to Willow. He was the only one who knew her. So he stayed. Hopefully, in less than an hour, Buffy would be back with him and safe.

{====^====}

Through the high windows in the room, Buffy thought she could see the sky lightening. Was it near dawn? She had no idea. Buffy didn't even know what day it was. It felt like she'd been trapped in this room forever.

For the last half hour, she'd been alone. Willow had stormed out after Buffy had apologized to her. Buffy wondered if saying I'm sorry to her had been a mistake. There didn't seem to be any way to reason with her. The Willow she'd known as calm and quiet was gone completely. In her place was a vengeful woman missing a few marbles.

Though now that Buffy had most of the facts, she realized the change in Willow shouldn't be such a surprise. There was hate there for whatever part Buffy had played in – as Willow claimed – ruining her life, but there was likely more. From working at the Hyperion, Buffy was aware that the long-term effects of using crystal meth were ugly. If Willow was still using, that would definitely explain why she was so out of control and violent.

It still shocked Buffy that Willow had, at least at one time, been using drugs. Never would she have expected that. Then one weekend when Buffy had gone home to Sunnydale for a visit, she and Dawn decided to go to the Bronze to hang out. Buffy never expected while there that she'd catch sight of Willow with a guy who was a known dealer. From her days on the scene, she knew exactly what trash Pete peddled. Thankfully, they'd always been on good terms so she had been able to get him to tell her what Willow was buying.

Crystal meth. Buffy shook her head now just thinking about it. She'd been shocked to say that least about what she'd learned that night. And worried. If anyone knew what drugs and all that shit could do to a person, she did. She knew the danger Willow was in. So she'd tried to talk to the girl who had never really been a friend, but Willow hadn't wanted to hear a word of it. Still worried afterwards, Buffy had gone to her uncle, hoping he might know someone here in Sunnydale who she might be able to talk to and who might be able to help Willow.

Apparently, that had been a mistake on her part. Giles had butted in himself and started a chain that Willow said had ruined her life. If Buffy had known then...well, she didn't know if she would change anything. Her intentions had been good. Willow was putting herself in danger. Should she have just looked away? Buffy didn't know anymore. Considering the position it had put her in – chained naked to a wall at Willow's mercy – maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

Wincing, Buffy shifted her body as much as possible. Her arms were killing her and her two broken fingers were throbbing and when they weren't throbbing they were numb. The spot on her shoulder where the book had hit felt sore. Then there was her face. It felt stiff and swollen from the hit by Willow's hand, and the cut on her lip hurt every time she moved her mouth.

There wasn't any time to think about the numerous pains in her body because Buffy heard footsteps approaching the room. She lifted her tired head to stare at the doorway. Blowing out a weary breath, she wondered what she was in store for now. She'd been broken and bruised and photographed naked. That last part made her eyes narrow, but she pushed the anger down. She had to focus on the now.

Finally, Willow stepped into the doorway and Buffy's eyes widened at the sight of her. The cloak was gone, revealing Willow wearing a pair of black leather pants, clunky black boots, and a black leather corset top with lacy red flowing sleeves. This woman didn't in the least resemble the Willow who'd once worn plaid jumpers and Converse sneakers.

“How ya feelin', Buffy?” Willow purred in a mocking voice. “I bet you're real comfortable over there.”

“Actually, I am. I should try being chained naked to a wall more often!” Buffy shot back, unable to stop the sarcastic comment. Wrong thing to say again, she realized as Willow stomped toward her. There wasn't even time to pull away before Willow pulled back her foot and kicked Buffy hard in the ribs on her left side.

Groaning, Buffy slouched over. She yanked at her arms, feeling an instinctive need to clutch her side, but her wrists were still bound. The stabbing pain brought more tears to her eyes. Buffy was pretty sure one or more of her ribs had been cracked by those ass-kicker boots Willow had on. She drew in several deeps breaths, wincing at the shards of pain in her side.

“Let's see,” Willow said, poking at the bruise on Buffy's shoulder. “That was for butting your nose into my business in the first place.”

Tracing a finger up Buffy's arm, she gripped the first finger she'd broken. “This one was for opening your big mouth to your uncle.”

She yanked on the second broken finger. “That was for Giles telling my adviser.”

She lightly slapped the purple spot on Buffy's face. “Hmm...that's for my adviser telling my parents.”

She nudged the darkening spot on Buffy's ribs. “And this one is for my parents kicking me out of the house and disowning me.”

For each poke and prod, Buffy fought to keep her face neutral despite that ever present pain. She only got herself into more trouble by reacting and mouthing off. If she kept quiet and indifferent, she'd likely be better off. Sooner or later, Willow would kill her, or someone would find them. Buffy hoped for the latter.

“That leaves...,” Willow pondered for a minute, “me losing my scholarship and getting kicked out of school when my adviser went to the academic board. Then there's my parents telling Oz and him dumping me. Oh, and let's not forget how cuddly you and Oz seemed the other night.”

“I guess you could count shooting your little boytoy, Angel, as part of your penance,” she considered the possibility. “No, I don't think so. That leaves us with the already mentioned sins along with some others I'm sure I haven't thought of that you've yet to pay for.”

Willow lifted her arm, resting her palm against the stone wall Buffy was tied to. Her other hand toyed for a minute with the chains that held Buffy before reaching down to wrap around the index finger of Buffy's right hand. “Why don't we get started now?”

{====^====}

“Hold up,” Faith requested before the groups split up to survey the house and grounds. “If we're right about this, we already know Willow is not all there, but there's something else we need to consider.”

“What?” Angel snapped, anxious to get moving. They needed to find Buffy. He needed to find Buffy.

“If Willow's still using meth, then we know she's probably been on it for over a year,” she began. “The effects of overusing it can be nasty...hallucinations, paranoia, mood swings and wild, psychotic rages to name a few. Just keep in mind that if she's on the meth, there might not be any way to reason with her.”

Everyone was silent for a minute until Oz spoke up. “Please don't hurt her unless you have to. I...I know what she's done is wrong...but she needs help.”

Angel opened his mouth to say that he'd do anything necessary to make sure Buffy was brought out safe, but then he thought of all the things Buffy had told him about her past. She'd been on this path once herself, and had been given a second chance to do right. Yes, she'd never done anything seriously bad, but her situation wasn't all that different from Willow. Being a cop, he knew how badly drugs could mess a person up. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

“We'll do what we can to not harm Willow,” he finally said, “but the first priority is getting Buffy out of there.”

“I understand,” Oz conceded, defeat in his eyes.

“Okay, so,” Faith began. “You guys will go off to the left. You two will-”

Her words were cut off by a shrill scream coming from inside the mansion.

Angel's head whipped around and his body grew numb. He knew in his heart that had been Buffy. Before any of them could even react, he took off at a sprint toward the mansion, his only goal to get to Buffy no matter what.

{====^====}

Being stoic flew out the window in the face of a third broken finger. Buffy couldn't have stopped the scream she let out. It just hurt too much, and it made the other two injured fingers hurt more. For the first time, Buffy was beginning to feel hopeless. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. Her whole body ached and throbbed.

Pleas for forgiveness and a reprieve were on the tip of Buffy's tongue when a loud crash sounded from somewhere in the house. Willow's hand froze in the process of grabbing Buffy's right pinkie. She quickly leaped away from Buffy and darted to the corner of the room where her table of supplies sat. Buffy felt a bone-deep fear at the black object Willow picked up.

“Buffy!” came a shout from not too far away.

Relief coursed through Buffy, but Willow's movement made Buffy realize the danger. “Angel! Don't-” It was too late, she realized as he dashed into the room. “Come in here,” she finished in a mumble.

Angel stopped dead at the sight of Buffy chained to a wall and horror filled him. She was completely naked, he saw at once, but that realization flew out of his mind swiftly as he took in the state of her body. There was bruising on her side and shoulder. And her face. Dried blood clung to her chin and neck. He eyes raced over her, up her arms. Something seemed to be wrong with one of her hands if the swelling and redness were any indication.

He took a step toward her, only to be called to a halt.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” said a female voice from behind him.

Shit! Angel cursed in his head. How stupid could he be? He was a cop! He knew better than to go racing into an unknown situation! All he'd been able to think about, though, was Buffy's scream and that she was hurting somewhere inside the mansion. Logic had flown out the window the minute he'd heard her pain-filled scream. Now he was paying for it.

Turning his head slightly, Angel saw a petite woman dressed in black. With a gun in her right hand. Fuck. He was really screwed now.

“Well, well. It's your little boytoy, Buffy. Riding in to rescue you,” Willow sang mockingly. “Too bad he won't succeed.” She stepped out of the corner and closer to Angel. “Which one of you should I shoot first?”

The gun drifted back and forth between Angel and Buffy as Willow contemplated them. She seemed to come to a decision and slowly moved the gun back to Angel and aimed it at his heart.

“I think Mr. Big Shot Cop will be first,” she smiled evilly. “Would you like to see Angel here die, Buffy?”

Blood drained out of Buffy's face at the thought. No! Angel couldn't die! Not like this, not because of her. She'd never be able to live with herself if Angel was killed because of her. He'd already been shot once by Willow at the gallery. She tried to think of something to say to redirect Willow's attention to her, but a new voice filled the room instead.

“Willow, put the gun down.”

Willow's head whipped around and her mouth dropped open. “Oz?” she whispered.

“Please, Willow, put the gun down,” he begged again, taking a hesitant step toward her.

The gun in Willow's hand drooped a bit, and Oz took another step toward her. Noticing his approach, Willow back away and re-aimed the gun at Angel. “Don't come any closer,” she ordered, her tone shaky.

“You don't want to do this, Willow,” he kept repeating her name, hoping it would get through to her.

“What do you know?!” she demanded, waving the gun wildly. “She has to pay for what she did!”

“She has paid,” he said quietly, flicking a glance at Buffy. He tried not to react at the damage Willow had done to her.

“Not enough!” yelled Willow, hatred flaming in her eyes.

Oz tried to think of something to distract her, to take her mind off Buffy. There had to be something he could say. “Remember that weekend freshmen year of college when we snuck away and went camping in the desert?” He took a very slow step toward Willow again. “We had a lot of fun, didn't we?”

“We made s'mores and you played your guitar,” she mumbled softly, her eyes glazing.

“Yeah, and we saw a shooting star up in the sky,” he continued, seeing that his words were working in taking her mind away from the room and the situation. “We stayed up until dawn and watched the sunrise. You said you'd never seen anything so beautiful.”

“And you held me the whole time,” she whispered, a few tears falling down her cheeks.

Taking his chances Oz took careful steps the rest of the way until he was standing next to Willow. She didn't even seem to notice how close he was now. He had to keep her distracted. They weren't out of the woods yet.

“That was the best weekend of my life,” he told her soothingly as he raised his hand inch by inch. “We hiked through the canyon and found those Native American carvings.” A few more inches and he would be able to reach the gun. All the while, Willow stared blankly off into space, tears still trailing from her eyes. “You were so excited about those. We used paper and a pencil to do rubbings of them.”

Oz's hands reached the gun and he gently pulled it out of her hand. Willow gave no resistance. She was completely lost somewhere in her mind. In an instant, Angel was beside him, taking the gun and clicking on the safety before tucking it into the waistband of his pants.

“Willow?” Oz stated, touching her cheek lightly. Her blurry eyes moved slowly to his before she collapsed against him. They sank to the floor with Oz clutching Willow in his arms as she began sobbing heavily. All he could do was hold her while the emotional pain overwhelmed her.

Seeing that the immediate danger was past, Angel rushed to Buffy. He yanked on the chains holding her arms, trying to free her, but they held tight. Behind him, he could hear the others entering the room. Angel crouched down, shielding Buffy's vulnerable body from view.

“Someone get me a blanket!” he shouted to anyone listening. “And find the keys for the manacles!”

“Angel?” Buffy whispered, suddenly feeling dizzy. She blinked her eyes, trying to see clearly, but everything remained fuzzy.

“I'm here, baby. Don't worry, everything will be okay,” he said softly, touching a hand lightly to her bruised face. He shuddered inside at the injuries he could see on her body.

“Angel, here.”

Faith shoved a blanket at him which Angel promptly took and eased around Buffy's battered body. She whimpered at the jostling, but there was nothing he could do about it. He could tell she was barely holding on to consciousness. They needed to get her to a hospital quickly. It was possible she had serious internal injuries. The bruise on her ribs looked bad.

“I've got the keys,” Kate wheezed, out of breath from having searched the room in a rush.

Yanking them out of Kate's hand, Angel rose and unlatched the manacles as quickly as possible. Buffy's arms fell limply downwards and she groaned as her right hand hit the concrete with a slap. Angel bit off a curse at being careless. Her hand was obviously hurt. He should have held on to her arms. Too late now.

He bent down and scooped up Buffy in his arms, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around her. “Hospital, now!” he ordered loudly.

“Someone give me keys to a fucking car!” Faith shouted, looking at everyone in the room. Lindsay tossed her the set to the van. Angel was already out of the room as they landed in her hand. She walked to the doorway and turned back for a second. “Someone get her,” she nodded at the still sobbing Willow on the floor with Oz, “to the psych ward. And don't let anyone call her parents,” she added at the last minute, thinking of some of the things she'd been told about Willow's family.

After her last command, she sped out of the room. Angel was waiting just outside the mansion, not knowing what car they were taking. Faith didn't even stop to inform him which vehicle she'd gotten keys to. He would follow her.

Reaching the van, Faith climbed in the driver's side and waited for Angel to get into the passenger seat. He never let go of Buffy once. “I hope you know where the hospital is,” she muttered, realizing she had no clue where she was.

“I do,” Angel replied. “Hang a U-turn and head back toward town.”

The engine of the van roared to life and Faith squealed away from the curb. Following Angel's orders, she wheeled the van around and then stepped on the gas. She hoped he kept it together long enough to get them to the hospital.

Beside her, Angel held Buffy in his arms loosely, rocking her body in a calming motion. She seemed to have finally lapsed into unconsciousness, but he could feel the pulse beating strongly in her neck. Buffy would be fine, he told himself. She had to be. He had to have gotten to her in time. He couldn't lose her now.

{====^====}
Part 18
{====^====}

The waiting room at Sunnydale Memorial Hospital was packed with people two hours later. Giles, Jenny and Dawn sat together, having come immediately once Faith had called them with the news that Buffy had been found. On the other side of the room, Spike, Wesley, Fred, Cordelia and Gunn waited together after arriving from LA an hour earlier. Faith leaned against one of the small windows, staring out at the early morning sky. And Angel paced from one side of the room to the other continuously.

They'd all been waiting for what seemed like hours for an update on Buffy's condition. Angel and Faith had told everyone they thought she would be fine, but each one wanted to hear that from a doctor so they could feel secure in the knowledge. If a doctor or nurse didn't show up soon, each thought they might go insane with worry.

“It's hard to believe Willow is the one responsible for all this,” Giles muttered, shaking his head as he thought of the young woman he'd grown to like from her visits to the library.

“Drugs can make even the most normal people crazy,” Faith answered unconsciously.

“Yes,” agreed Giles, taking his glasses off to wipe them with his handkerchief. “When Buffy came to me and told me she'd seen Willow buying methamphetamine at the Bronze, I could hardly believe it. Then when I thought more about it, I realized her behavior had become a little erratic. She would be at the library at all hours and seem a bit jumpy. She got into an argument once with another student over a book they both wanted. I never thought, though, that she would get this bad.”

“We still don't have all the details about why she went after Buffy,” Faith added in. “Hopefully Buffy will be able to explain the rest.”

No one dared to utter the thought about if Buffy would be okay to tell them the other details.

“Where is Willow now?” questioned Jenny, holding on to her husband's hand tightly.

“I talked to Kate. She said they were having her admitted to the psych ward here,” Faith relayed of the update she'd gotten from the mansion. “She'll need to be evaluated before anything else.”

“If she gets help, there's every chance she may be able to lead a normal life.” This came from Wesley.

Giles glared at the younger man. “She needs to be in prison.”

“I'm not saying she should not be punished for her actions, but rehabilitation is not out of the realm of possibility,” Wesley disagreed.

“Now-”

“No,” Angel interrupted Giles, speaking for the first time in a half hour. “Wesley is right. What Willow did was wrong. I won't argue that, but she needs help. Maybe it's too late for her and maybe not, but she deserves the opportunity. Buffy taught me that everyone deserves a second chance.”

Giles snapped his mouth shut at the vague reminder of the girl Buffy had been when he first arrived in Sunnydale. Things were so different now that it was often hard to reconcile the past with the present. But thinking about it now, he conceded the point. Buffy had been giving a second chance to make her life better, and she had taken it. Giles didn't know if Willow could be helped, but he supposed she should be given the chance.

Before they could debate the subject of Willow's future any further, the door to the waiting room opened and a young looking woman in a white doctor's coat stepped into the room. Everyone grew silent at her entrance, anxiously waiting for whatever she had to tell them.

“You're Buffy Summers' family, and uh,” she glanced at all the people in the room, “friends?”

They all nodded and Giles stood up from his chair. “I am her uncle, Rupert Giles.”

“I'm Doctor Amy Madison. I was the ER resident on call when Buffy was brought in,” she introduced herself, then moved right on to what she was sure everyone wanted to know. “Buffy will be fine.”

There was an almost audible sigh of relief at her words. Angel slumped back against the wall. He'd told himself over and over again that her injuries hadn't appeared life-threatening. Hearing the doctor tell them, though, made the point more salient.

“Thank God,” Giles whispered, hugging Jenny and Dawn. “What about her injuries?”

“Most of them are strictly superficial. The bruises on her shoulder and face are minor as is the cut on her lip,” Dr. Madison explained to them. “One of her ribs on her left side is cracked. Thankfully, it didn't break fully so it will just be sore for a few weeks. Her fingers are the biggest worry right now.”

“Her fingers?” Giles repeated, paling when he thought of how Angel had told him something had been wrong with Buffy's right hand, the hand she painted with.

“Yes,” Amy nodded, rechecking the details on the chart she held. “Three of her fingers were broken in multiple places.”

“Will...will they be all right?” Jenny asked, clutching Giles hand. “She's an artist.”

Amy pursed her lips at the new information, realizing the implication. “I can't say for sure right now. The bones will set fine, but we don't know yet if there has been any tendon or muscle damage. An orthopedic specialist will be looking at them later today.”

“You'll let us know what he or she has to say?” Giles requested, praying that there was no permanent damage to Buffy's hand. He didn't want to think about what might happen if she could never paint again.

“Of course.”

“Is...is Buffy awake?” Dawn inquired, her worry evident in her voice.

“She is, yes.” Amy gave them a reassuring smile. “She came to not long after arriving at the Emergency Room. I think it was only the stress of the situation and the pain that made her pass out, but she may also have a mild concussion.”

“A concussion?” Spike spoke up. “What happened to her head?” He hadn't heard any mention of something being done to her head.

“There was a lump on the back of her skull. Nothing serious, but we did a Cat Scan just to be sure and it came out fine,” Amy relayed.

“Probably from when Willow got to her in the garage,” Faith said, rolling her shoulders and her head as she tried to push away the exhaustion that was creeping in. “She probably hit Buffy in the back of the head to knock her out. We found a few drops of blood not far from Buffy's car.”

“That sounds like a possibility,” nodded Amy, checking her chart. “There was a small cut with the lump, but it had already scabbed over.”

“S-so you think she'll be okay?” stated Angel, the stutter in his voice caused by his relief that there didn't appear to be anything life threatening wrong with Buffy.

“She'll be just fine,” Amy smiled sympathetically. “We'll keep her overnight just for observation and so the orthopedic doctor can look at her hand. If everything goes well, she should be able to go home tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Dr. Madison.” Giles held out his hand and shook Amy's. He sighed and averted his eyes, not wanting anyone in the room to see the emotion on his face. Ever since coming to Sunnydale almost four years ago, Buffy had become like a daughter to him. He'd seen her turn her life around after so much struggle and tragedy. If something even worse had happened...well, the thought didn't bear considering.

“You're welcome. I'm glad she's doing so well considering the situation.” Amy tucked her clipboard with Buffy's chart under her arm and gazed around the room at all the concerned faces. Buffy was lucky to have so many people who cared a great deal about her. “Right now she's being moved to room 212 on the second floor. You can all see her, but one or two at a time.”

Doctor Madison said her goodbyes to the family and left the room. No sooner had she left than everyone in the room started for the door, wanting to see Buffy. They piled into an elevator together, no one complaining that there wasn't quite enough room to fit them all.

On the second floor, they quickly hurried as one toward room two-twelve and stopped outside. Jenny studied Angel out of the corner of her eye. He was staring at the door to Buffy's room, looking as if he wanted to push everyone out of the way to get to Buffy. Jenny was even more sure now that there was something serious between the two. She hoped that things would work out between them. Buffy deserved to have a good man in her life, and Angel seemed to be that, though she didn't know him very well.

“Why don't you go in first, Angel?” she said softly. Giles opened his mouth to say something and Jenny shot him a look that shut him up in a hurry.

Angel knew he should say no and let Buffy's family enter first, but he desperately wanted to see her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course. I'm sure Buffy wants to see you,” Giles replied diplomatically, pleasing Jenny.

“Thanks.” Angel nodded to the group and stepped up to the door.

His hand shook a little as he pushed it open. Shaking his head against the nervous reaction, Angel stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. The doctor had said that Buffy was okay, but part of him had yet to accept that. His mind kept flashing back to rushing into that cold, stark room and seeing Buffy trussed up and battered. He'd never been so terrified in his entire life. Or so full of rage.

He needed to see her, to make sure she was alive and as well as could be given the situation. Angel kept in mind, though, that Buffy had been through a lot and was likely sleeping. So he took quiet steps further into the room. If she was asleep, he would not wake her. He would just sit with her a few minutes, offer his silent support.

To Angel's surprise, Buffy was reclining in her bed, watching the TV mounted high on the wall. She noticed him the moment he came into sight and promptly turned off the TV. The smile she gave him nearly melted his heart.

“Angel!” she greeted him, feeling instantly better. Buffy wasn't sure she’d ever seen anything as wonderful as Angel coming to stand next to her bed.

“Hey.” He smiled back at her, pulling up a chair next to her bed and sitting. “How are you?” Stupid question, he told himself. He could guess how she was.

“Been better,” Buffy answered with a shrug, wincing at the soreness in her shoulder. “They gave me some pain medication.”

Angel reached up, touched the dark bruise on Buffy's cheek, running his fingers lightly over the tender skin. “I'm sorry.”

He started to take his hand away, but Buffy quickly caught it in hers – the one without the broken fingers – and held on tightly. “This wasn't your fault, Angel.”

“I was supposed to protect you,” he disagreed, his voice dripping with guilt.

“I shouldn't have gone out on my own. I knew it was dangerous and I did it anyway. It's my fault Willow finally got to me,” she said, the retort tired and weary.

“I just...I hate seeing you like this,” Angel returned, taking in the numerous visible injuries on Buffy's body.

Buffy gave him and understanding smile. “Then you know how I felt after you were shot.” She sighed and rested her head on her pillow, her exhaustion suddenly growing. “Willow was sick. I'm not sure she even really knew what she was doing. I know I should hate her, but I can't help feeling sorry for her.”

“She's been admitted to the psych ward upstairs,” he told her, still torn between wanting to see Willow punished for all the pain she'd caused and wanting her to get the help she so obviously needed.

“I'm glad. Maybe she can be helped,” she mumbled over a yawn. God, she was so tired all the sudden.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he stated quietly, noticing how Buffy could barely keep her eyes open. He started to pull his hand away from where Buffy held it, but she gripped it tightly.

“Stay?” she requested just before her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing evened out.

“Always,” he whispered, knowing Buffy was already asleep and hadn't heard him.

{====^====}

Three hours later, Angel found himself sitting alone in the hospital cafeteria. He'd stayed with Buffy the entire time she'd slept and while her family and friends had trickled in and out to see for themselves that she was okay. Nobody had asked to him to leave and he hadn't offered. Sitting there holding her hand had eased the huge ball of tension that had formed in his stomach the moment he'd realized she had disappeared.

Right now Buffy was getting an MRI on her hand to determine if there was any serious damage or if there were just broken bones. He prayed to whatever higher powers there were in the universe that the results of the scan would be positive. Buffy didn't deserve to have her career destroyed He worried about her state of mind if such a thing should happen. Becoming an artist had helped save her life. What would happen if she couldn't paint anymore?

Angel reminded himself to think positive. The MRI was a precautionary measure. It didn't stop him from worrying or wondering what he'd say to her if the news was bad.

A brown paper bag plopped down in front of Angel and he tore his gaze off his styrofoam coffee cup. Faith stood next to him, her hands on her hips. He looked to the bag and then back to Faith.

“Did you have any trouble finding it?” he asked, opening the bag and peeking in.

“Nope.” She dropped down into the seat across from Angel and propped her legs up on a nearby chair. “One pint of cookie dough fudge mint chip.”

“Thanks.”

After refolding the top of the bag, he set it aside. He'd asked Faith to run out and pick up some of Buffy's favorite ice cream. She had a soft spot for it, he knew after living in her apartment since all the trouble started. With everything that had happened the last twenty-four hours, he thought she might need some comfort food.

“Is everyone else still here?” Faith wanted to know, snagging Angel's coffee and taking a swig.

Angel glared at her and grabbed his coffee back. “I think so. Mrs. Giles – Jenny – went home because their babysitter couldn't stay longer.”

“Right.”

They lapsed into silence, both rather worn out from the night's events. Faith cocked her head and held back a smile as she noticed Angel checking his watch at least once every five minutes. He was waiting for the hour they'd been told the MRI would take to pass.

“You really care about her, don't you?” she mused aloud.

“What?” Angel's eyes snapped up to Faith, a frown forming.

“You,” she pointed at him, “you care about her.”

“Of course I do. Buffy is a good person,” he replied, hedging a bit.

“That's not what I meant and you know it,” she shot back. “Besides, I can remember a time when you didn't think that way.”

“That was before. Things are...different...now.” Angel shifted in his seat, hoping Faith would drop the subject. He didn't exactly want to discuss his feelings for Buffy with her.

“Uh huh,” she grunted, rolling her eyes at his evasiveness.

Standing, Angel grabbed his now empty coffee and the bag with Buffy's ice cream. Time to make a full retreat before Faith sank her teeth any further into the issue. Besides, Buffy should be back from her MRI soon. He intended to be with her when the results came in.

“I'm going back upstairs,” he told Faith, tossing his cup in a nearby trash can and then strolling quickly out of the cafeteria.

Back at the table, Faith chuckled. Angel was a total goner. She wondered if either one of them – Buffy or Angel – would have the balls to admit how they felt. Knowing those two, they'd circle each other for a while, causing all that disgusting uber angst before saying fuck it and then fucking each other. It'd be amusing to watch at least.

{====^====}

Buffy dug her spoon into the pint of ice cream and enthusiastically ate a mouthful. There was nothing like cookie dough fudge mint chip. Angel was a God for bringing her some. It hit the perfect spot. She licked the spoon then grinned at Angel.

While she ate the ice cream, Buffy tried not to think about the MRI she'd just had. She was in complete denial about what might be wrong with her fingers. The doctor had told her there was a possibility of permanent damage. Buffy didn't want to think about it. So she told herself that until and unless there was something to worry about, she wouldn’t. Instead, she would continue to believe that there was every chance her hand would be fine with a bit of healing.

“I don't know how you can eat that rubbish,” Giles grumbled from side of the bed opposite Angel. He'd insisted on waiting with her for the doctor to come in and give a report on the MRI.

“It's good. You should try it.” She held out the carton to him and Giles wrinkled his noise at it. Buffy shrugged and held the treat out to Angel. “How about-”

Whatever she was about to say stuck in her throat as the door to her room opened and the orthopedic doctor she'd met before her MRI walked into the room. Suddenly, Buffy felt nauseous, afraid to hear whatever the man had to say, but needing to know anyway. She set the ice cream on the tray across her bed and sat up higher. Buffy knew that what she was about to hear could change her life forever.

“Miss Summers,” the doctor greeted her. “I've gone over the results of your MRI.”

“And?” she asked, her voice shaky.

“There are no serious or permanent injuries to you fingers,” he responded gently.

Buffy sagged back against her pillow, feeling an unexplainable sense of relief. Her fingers would be fine. She would be able to paint again. Tears gathered in her eyes and she ducked her head, not wanting anyone to see. Finally getting herself back under control, she raised her eyes.

“Thank you.”

“I'm glad everything turned out all right.” He walked over to the bed and carefully picked up Buffy's injured hand. “All three fingers were dislocated, you're ring and index fingers at the lower joint and your pointer finger at the upper joint,” he explained, gesturing to the appropriate areas. “One of them had already popped back into place before you arrived at the hospital, and the other two were realigned down in the ER. The MRI showed a very minor tear of the ligament in your index finger, but it's so small I could barely see it.”

“It...it won't be a problem, will it?” Buffy questioned nervously, staring at her tormented fingers.

“No. They’ll be sore for a while and you will have to follow a treatment plan, but you should be back painting in no time.” The doctor crossed his arms in front of him and stepped away from the bed. “I'll be by tomorrow before you’re discharged to give you information on how to take care of them. If you have any questions in the meantime, just ask one of the nurses to contact me.”

“Thank you,” Buffy said again.

After the doctor had left, Giles stood and leaned over the bed to give Buffy a tender hug. “Well, that is certainly good news.”

“Yeah,” Buffy gave him a relieved smile. “You'll tell everyone else?”

“Of course. I'll also call Jenny and fill her in,” Giles answered, already walking to the door.

“Wait,” she spoke up, seeing the tired slouch in her uncle's body. “After you tell them, why don't you go home? I'm sure you must be exhausted.”

“I don't mind staying,” he offered.

“It's okay. I'll be fine,” Buffy assured him.

“If you're sure.”

Buffy nodded at him so Giles said his goodbyes and left the room, leaving Angel and Buffy alone together. She relaxed back on the bed and turned her head toward Angel. “It wasn't until the doctor told me my hand would be okay that I really realized what could have happened.”

“Now you don't have to worry anymore.” Angel was immensely relieved as well. His heart had been pounding when the doctor came into the room. He'd dreaded hearing that there was something serious wrong with Buffy's fingers. “I'm glad they'll be okay.”

“Me too.” She yawned and moved around on the bed, trying a find a comfortable position. The action made her side hurt and she pressed a hand to the area, wincing at the pain.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled Angel. For a little bit, he'd almost forgotten about her other injuries under the worry about her hand. The broken fingers were only one part of all she'd suffered.

“Yeah. My ribs are just sore. Doctor Madison said they would be. I just have to be careful how I move and that I don't bump them,” she relayed, relaxing now that the pain was easing up. It was going to take her a little while to get used to her limitations.

Raising his hand, Angel tucked a strand of hair behind Buffy's ear. Despite the bruises and the overall weariness on her face, she still looked beautiful. And thoroughly exhausted. “You should try to get some sleep.”

The feel of Angel's fingers against her skin soothed Buffy. How was it that he could do that to her? She wished he could climb up into the bed and hold her, ease the remaining tension in her body from all she'd been through. But she didn't dare ask. There was still too much unsettled between them. And she didn't want to set herself up for a fall. If she let herself get too attached to Angel, she would only end up hurt. He didn't care about her the way she cared about him. Loved him. So wanting him to hold her was wrong. She had to get used to him not being around. Soon he would return to his own life. She didn't need his protection anymore.

Buffy idly remembered how when she was Willow's prisoner, she'd wanted to tell Angel she loved him. Now that she was free and able to do so, she didn't dare attempt it. She was a chicken, that's what she was. Fear of rejection was a powerful force, though. Why set yourself up to get burned? She would keep her feelings to herself. When all this was settled, she would thank Angel for all his help and move on with her life. If her heart shattered in the process, so be it.

Just because she couldn't ask him to hold her while she slept didn't mean she couldn't ask him to remain. She did not want to be alone right now.

“Will you stay?” she asked softly, yawning again. “I don't want to be by myself.”

“I'll stay,” he assured her, reaching for her hand. “I'll be here as long as you want me to.”

“Thanks.” Buffy snuggled under the covers, still holding Angels hand. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she wished things could be different, that she and Angel could be together so that he could be there every night when she fell asleep.

Angel watched as Buffy's eyes drifted shut and she fell almost instantly asleep. He didn't know how she'd managed to remain awake so long. The only sleep she'd had in the last thirty-six hours was the nap she'd had earlier. As a cop, he was used to long hours awake, but he didn't think Buffy was. She was getting some much needed sleep now, though. He would stay with her the entire night if it would bring her comfort.

Settling into his chair, Angel felt his own eyes falling shut. His shoulder was throbbing, but he barely noticed. The long night and day were finally catching up to him, and soon he too was sound asleep. When Faith checked on them an hour later, Angel was still clutching Buffy's good hand and his head was resting on the bed next to her shoulder.

{====^====}

The following morning, Buffy sat on her bed flipping through the channels on her TV. There was absolutely nothing on to watch. Why couldn't hospitals get decent channels? Talk shows with weird, crazy people were the last thing she wanted to watch right now. And there wasn't anybody around for her to talk to.

Wesley, Fred, Cordelia and Gunn had been in to see her earlier before going back to LA. Each of them had jobs and responsibilities they had to return to. Faith and Spike were out having breakfast somewhere. Giles had an important meeting at the college he couldn't get out of. And Jenny and Dawn had dragged Angel out of her room, insisting he go back to the Giles house so he could shower, change into the clothes her uncle had found for him, and eat some food. Angel hadn't wanted to go, but her aunt and sister had persisted until he gave in. So for the last hour, there'd only been the TV to keep her company. A book or a magazine would have been more interesting.

Buffy poked at the remainder of her breakfast, grumbling to herself about the lousy food. The eggs were overcooked and the bacon was rubbery. Only the orange juice was halfway decent. Pushing the tray aside, Buffy instead picked up the papers her doctor had brought in just after Angel left. The small stack had information about her injuries and things she should and shouldn't do until she was healed.

Absentmindedly, she scratched at her arm where the doctor had drawn more blood that morning. Being a pin cushion was definitely not a fun thing. If she got stuck with one more needle, she'd scream. At least she would be discharged in a couple hours and those evil nurses wouldn't be able to get near her with sharp implements anymore.

A short while later, Buffy was just finishing up reading about how to take care of her ribs when the door to her room opened and Dr. Madison entered. Buffy smiled at the woman, glad she had such a nice doctor. The smile faded when she saw the pensive look on her doctor's face.

“Is everything okay?” Buffy wanted to know, sitting up straighter.

“Sort of,” Amy said slowly. She studied her patient while she considered how to say her next words. “I took more blood this morning because I wanted to run a more thorough check to make sure you hadn't been given any drugs during your ordeal. Which you weren't. No foreign substances were found.”

“That's good.” Buffy frowned at the doctor. Something wasn't right. “But?”

“The lab report does show something else.”

Nervousness filled Buffy. There was something wrong with her. Clenching her good hand on the sheet, she drew in a breath. “Wh-what?”

“You're pregnant, Buffy.”

{====^====}
Part 19
{====^====}

Pregnant? Buffy was absolutely, positively sure that she had to have misheard the doctor. She shook her head in a futile attempt to expunge the words from her mind. She couldn't...couldn't...be...be pregnant. The doctor was wrong. That had to be it.

“Wh-what?” Buffy stuttered, her entire body frozen in shock.

“You're pregnant,” Dr. Madison repeated gently, sensing that the news had caught her patient completely off guard.

“That...but...I can't be pregnant,” Buffy forced out, eyes wide.

Amy frowned and rechecked the information on the chart she'd brought in. The results were still the same. “You haven't had sex with anyone recently?” she asked, more than a little confused.

“I...,” trailed off Buffy as for the first time it hit her that she and Angel had not used protection that morning in her kitchen. They'd been too caught up in lust. And she wasn't taking any sort of birth control. Buffy paled at the realization and the implication. Still...she wasn't ready to face it yet. “I...it, um...wasn't that long ago.”

Giving Buffy a sympathetic smile, Amy stepped closer to the bed. “A blood test can often detect the pregnancy hormone as early as six to eight days after intercourse.”

The blood further drained from Buffy's face as she counted the days since her encounter with Angel. Seven days. It had happened seven days ago. Buffy trembled, her left hand jerking towards her abdomen but freezing halfway there.

“Are...are you sure?” she asked her doctor.

“Blood tests are usually very accurate,” Amy replied. “It's fairly rare to get a false positive. I'll be doing an ultrasound, though, to verify the blood test and to check for any problems caused by your injuries.”

It was so much to take in at once. Buffy felt like her head was spinning. Blood tests...false positives...ultrasounds...her injuries. She couldn't seem to focus on one solitary fact except that she'd been told she was pregnant. Buffy again wanted to ask how that could be possible, but she knew. It was entirely possible.

The last thing her doctor had said finally trickled into Buffy's dazed head and her eyes snapped back to the Amy. “You think something might be wrong?” Nevermind that she hadn't yet accepted the fact that she was likely pregnant, but thinking that her ordeal might have done some harm made Buffy's good hand instantly move to her abdomen and clutch it protectively.

“I can't say for sure,” Amy responded hesitantly. “You didn't receive any direct hits to your abdomen, but the kick to your ribs causes some concern. Likely we would have seen some sign if the fetus had been compromised. The ultrasound will hopefully tell us more, but this early after conception, it might not show much.”

“O-okay.”

Buffy hardly heard what Dr. Madison had said. She was still stuck on the pregnant part. A baby. She was going to have a baby.

Angel's baby.

Oh God.

{====^====}

A short while later, Buffy sat in her bed, blankly staring at the wall. The doctor had left. The portable ultrasound machine gone. She was alone. And she was pregnant.

Buffy stared down at the small black and white picture in her hand. A picture of her baby. The ultrasound had confirmed the blood test results. Dr. Madison had been unsure if the ultrasound would show anything considering how early in the pregnancy she was, but the fetus had already implanted in Buffy's uterine wall.

Blinking slowly, Buffy focused on the image. There was a tiny dot that Amy had pointed out to her. A tiny dot that was her baby. Buffy could no longer deny the fact that she was pregnant. It was all there right in front of her. She was pregnant. Going to have a baby.

Dr. Madison hadn't seen any signs that her ordeal from the kidnapping had had any adverse effects, but she'd advised Buffy to see an obstetrician soon to make sure everything was okay. As an afterthought, she'd added that her advice was contingent on what Buffy decided to do about the pregnancy.

Right now, Buffy couldn't think that far ahead. She knew exactly what Dr. Madison had been implying. It just wasn't something she could fully comprehend at the moment. The only thing her mind kept circling back to was being told she was pregnant. She wanted to scream out that it wasn't possible. No way could she be pregnant. But Buffy knew all too well that it was possible and it was true.

Unwillingly, she drifted back to that morning in her kitchen with Angel. At the time, it had been utterly amazing. Being with Angel again – to be clichéd – was like going home. He was the one man who'd ever really meant anything to her. Afterwards, the regrets had set in. Buffy knew they'd made a mistake. They weren't together. Angel barely tolerated her. For days afterwards she'd avoided having to hear him tell her that what'd happened was wrong and a one time thing.

Now, that one passion-induced mistake had forever changed her life. Because she was pregnant. With Angel's baby.

Buffy buried her face in her hands, not even feeling the twinges of pain in the fingers of her right hand. How had she let this happen? What was she going to do? And what was she going to tell Angel?

A fantasy flickered unbidden into her mind. Of her and Angel together. A loving family. Happy.

A total and complete joke.

Tears welled and fell from Buffy's eyes. She and Angel would never be together. She'd seen to that four years ago when she had betrayed him in every way possible. Her actions had made him leave town – leave her – without even saying goodbye. And she'd deserved it.

That night when Angel had shown up at her apartment after the break-in his hatred of her had been obvious. No one could have missed the anger on his face. She hadn't blamed him. He had every right to feel as he did. Somehow, though, they'd mostly buried the hatchet. Angel tolerated her. Maybe even liked her a little bit. And he certainly seemed to be physically attracted to her.

But he didn't love her. That's what mattered in the end. Angel might have been willing to screw her on the kitchen table, but there were no fuzzy bunny feelings on his side. No hope for a future. For fantasies.

So what in the world was Buffy to do? She was pregnant with Angel's child.

Her eyes shifted to look at the vase of wildflowers next to her bed. Angel had given them to her, along with apologizing again for not protecting her and allowing Willow to kidnap her. He felt guilty because he believed he hadn't done his job. An assumption Buffy disagreed with, but that was just who Angel was; an honorable guy.

Honor. Yes, that was a word that fit Angel well. In every way.

That fact alone told Buffy what would happen if Angel knew she was pregnant because of their tryst on the kitchen table. He would do the honorable thing. No matter that he didn't love her, or even really care about her. His morals would tell him to marry her and take care of his child.

Buffy couldn't let him do that. He would be miserable. In an ideal world, when two people made a baby together, they got married and raised their child. When love and commitment were missing from that situation, people only ended up getting hurt. That's what would happen if Angel did the honorable thing.

There was love. On Buffy's side. She knew that now. Being around Angel these last few weeks, the feelings she'd developed for him during their time in Sunnydale had bloomed into love. Spending the rest of her life with him would be a dream come true. But only if Angel loved her, and he didn't.

Telling Angel that she was pregnant would inevitably make them both unhappy. Buffy's heart sank at that knowledge. How could she not tell him, though? That seemed equally wrong.

She needed time, Buffy realized. The news was still trying to sink it's way into her brain. She couldn't make any decisions about anything yet. Not until she'd fully grasped the fact that she was pregnant. Yes, time was definitely needed. She wouldn't tell anyone for now. Not Angel, not Faith, not her family. Once she'd taken in everything she would decide what to do.

A light knock sounded on the door and Buffy raised her eyes to see Angel poke his head in the room. Just the sight of him had her opening her mouth, ready to blurt out what the doctor had told her that morning. But she quickly snapped her lips closed. No, she wasn't going to tell Angel. Yet.

Sitting there staring at him, though, made her ache to tell him. To have him hold her and tell her that everything would be all right. That he loved her. Buffy shook her head. Pipe dreams. If she let herself believe in them, she would only get hurt. She'd had enough heartbreak already in her life.

Buffy forced a smile onto her face as Angel walked into the room. All the while, she was wondering how soon she could get him to leave. It hurt too much to have him close to her. So close but still out of reach. He was only there because he felt obligated.

“Hey,” Angel greeted her once he was room. He held up the bag in his hand. “Here are some clothes Jenny said to give to you.”

“Thanks.” She took the bag and dropped it down next to her, staring at it instead of looking up at Angel.

“What did the doctor say this morning?” he asked, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

Buffy froze. He couldn't possibly know, could he? Panic set in until she realized that Angel was just asking about her injuries. “Everything's fine. No problems,” she lied, still avoiding looking at him.

“So they're still letting you go home this afternoon?”

“Umm...yeah.” Truthfully, she'd forgotten all about that. Understandable given the morning she'd had. Buffy vaguely recalled Dr. Madison saying something about returning after lunch with her discharge papers.

Angel's eyes narrowed. Something about Buffy seemed...off. He couldn't put his finger on it. There was just something weird about her. And she appeared to be rather distracted. Was there something she wasn't telling him? Had the doctor found something more severe about her injuries?

“Is everything all right?” he questioned slowly, not taking his eyes off her. He thought he saw her hand tremble, but he couldn't be sure.

“Yes. Fine,” she replied swiftly, busying herself by pulling the clothes out of the bag.

It didn't escape Angel's notice that Buffy was avoiding looking at him. Why? Was she hiding something? Or was it something else? Angel was perplexed. When he'd left the hospital two hours earlier everything had been fine. Now there was a tension in the air. He didn't understand it.

Leaning back in his chair, Angel tried to figure out what had changed. It was almost as if Buffy didn't want him there. She wouldn't look at him. She barely answered his questions. Ever since entering the room, Buffy hadn't taken her eyes off the bag of clothes. He didn't see anything particularly interesting about the items. All Jenny had sent was a pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt. Certainly nothing to keep Buffy's attention for so long. So why was she focused on them like they were made of gold?

“How was your breakfast?” he opted to say, trying again to engage her in conversation.

“Fine.”

And again she rebuffed him. Not only that, she didn't complain about lousy hospital food. That was definitely suspicious. Everyone hated hospital food.

Frustrated, Angel thought back on the night before and earlier that morning, looking for some clue about what had changed between them. Ever since her rescue yesterday, Buffy had been fine with him. She'd smiled and talked. Moreover, she'd seemed happy to be around him. All through the night, he'd stayed with her, holding her hand. When she'd awoken once from a bad dream, he'd soothed her fears and stayed by her side. This morning, she'd greeted him with a smile, and laughingly pawned him off on her aunt so he wouldn't go hungry.

Sometime between when he'd left earlier, and when he'd returned, the closeness between them had vanished. Not that they'd been exactly best friends, but there had been more than this gaping chasm. Buffy hadn't seemed to mind his presence earlier. Now it was as though she wanted him gone. Angel didn't understand it in the least. What had happened?

While Angel was still pondering the new turn of events, someone knocked on the door. Both he and Buffy turned their heads to see Oz standing just outside the room, looking as though he didn't know whether he should be there or not.

“Am I interrupting?” the young man asked stoically.

“No, come in,” Buffy replied rather quickly.

Oz walked quietly into the room and stood a few feet away from the bed. He stared at the floor for a minute before finally looking up at Buffy. The bruises on her face and the splints on her hand made his shoulders slump. Willow had done that. The Willow he'd loved, and would always love. He simply didn't know what to say now that he was there.

Sensing his discomfort, Buffy spoke up. “I don't blame Willow. Not really. She's not blameless, but I know the drugs made everything so much worse.”

Buffy's absolution didn't make him feel any better. “I should have seen how unstable she'd become. I should have stayed here in Sunnydale.” If he'd been around...if he hadn't broken up with her...hell. He didn't know anything anymore.

“And if I hadn't of told Giles she was using, her parents wouldn't have found out and everything wouldn't have fallen apart for her,” she added, feeling bad for all that had happened. “I can't help but feel guilty about that, but sooner or later, something else would have happened to set her off. We can't take the blame for the situation she got herself into.”

One of the things her time at Hyperion had taught her was that you had to take responsibility for the problems in your life. She'd had to face up to the mistakes she'd made over the years. Her parents' breakup, her father's abandonment, and her mother's death had been horrible and it was understandable that she'd had trouble dealing with it all. But she had to lay claim to the things she'd gotten messed up in afterwards. She'd made those choices and done those things. It was no different with Willow. Things in her life had pushed her in a certain direction, but in the end, it was Willow who went the route she did. Buffy couldn't take the blame for that or how it all turned out.

“I didn't even know she was doing drugs until that day when her parents told me,” Oz muttered, thinking about how her parents had verbally attacked him when he'd gone to pick Willow up. They'd been furious and put all the blame on him.

“Some people are really good at hiding it,” Buffy responded. She'd seen it all at Hyperion. People who let drugs and alcohol dominate their lives, and people who covered it with expert precision.

“I'm still sorry you got hurt,” he told her.

“I'll heal,” she shrugged and winced slightly as the bruise on her shoulder throbbed. “Thanks for helping with...everything. If you hadn't been there to talk to her...” Buffy let the sentence trail off, not wanting to think how it might have ended if Oz hadn't been able to get the gun away from Willow.

During the exchange, Angel had remained silent. He knew they needed to talk, and he'd also wanted to observe the way Buffy interacted with Oz. He'd seen enough to answer a question or two, but he'd think about that in a little bit.

“Have you seen Willow since she was admitted?” Angel opted to ask.

“No,” Oz shook his head. “They had her sedated, and this morning her parents got her transferred to a private facility near LA.”

“Transferred?” Angel repeated, eyes narrowing. “How did they manage that with the investigation still going on? And how did they find out she was here?”

“They have a lot of friends in high places, and I think the District Attorney okay'ed it. Not sure,” he explained, though he didn't know much. “Her parents probably read about it in the newspaper. It was on the front page.”

“I hadn't thought of that,” muttered Angel.

“Wherever she is, she'll get the help she needs,” Buffy chipped in, not knowing whether anyone would really be able to help Willow. It all depended on how much of Willow's actions had been dictated by the drugs, how much permanent damage had been done, and how much was caused by Willow's mental instability aside from the drugs. Buffy sincerely hoped Willow would someday be able to lead a normal life.

“Yeah.” Oz shifted restlessly and sighed. “I better go. I'm heading back to LA.”

Buffy said goodbye to her friend and watched him walk toward the door. Before he left, she called out to him. “Oz? Keep in touch?”

“Sure. I'll come by sometime.

As soon as Oz was gone, Angel turned back to Buffy and eyed her pensively. If he hadn't been sure before that something was off, he was now. Where he'd gotten terse, one-word answers to questions, Oz had gotten full sentences and Buffy's full attention. She'd been perfectly willing to talk to Oz. But not to him. Yes, Angel was positive there was something very wrong between him and Buffy. He just had no damn clue what. Well, he'd just have to get to the bottom of it.

Unfortunately, Faith decided to appear at that moment, forcing him to set aside his desire to get to the bottom of what was bothering Buffy. If it hadn't been so annoying, Angel would have laughed at yet another convenient interruption. It seemed to be an epidemic where he and Buffy were concerned. There was always something popping up when they least needed it.

“Hey, B,” Faith greeted, sashaying into the room. “Ready to bust out of this hell hole?”

“Yes!” Buffy replied emphatically, practically leaping out of the bed.

“In a hurry, huh?” laughed Faith at her friend's exuberance.

Buffy skirted around the bed, keeping a safe distance from Angel and scooped up the clothes he'd brought for her. “I hate hospitals,” she answered, stepping away from the bed, and from Angel.

The distance Buffy kept between herself and Angel didn't escape Faith. She flicked a glance at both of them, wondering what was going on. Last time she'd peeked into the room, they'd practically been cuddled up together in Buffy's bed. She mentally shook her head. What was it with these two? They were always finding something to put space between them.

“I'm...uh...just gonna go change,” Buffy stated and scurried into the bathroom, closing the door with a loud snap.

Faith stared at the door for a few seconds, then leaned close to Angel. “What the hell was all that about?” she whispered to him.

“Damned if I know,” he grumbled back. “She was fine this morning before I left. Since I've been back, she's been doing her best to avoid even looking at me let alone talking to me.”

“What did you do?” she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Me? I didn't do anything!” he snapped at Faith in annoyance.

“Well then why is she acting like that?” she wanted to know, keeping her voice low so Buffy wouldn't hear them.

“I don't know! Something must have happened while I was gone, but I don't know what!” Angel leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. He was exhausted, his shoulder was throbbing, and things with Buffy were still screwed up. Last night and this morning, he'd thought that maybe they were finally going to be able to put the past behind them and move on...together. Now...he didn't have a fucking clue what was going on.

Angel had so much he wanted to tell Buffy. First and foremost being that he loved her. He laughed harshly. Who would have thought he'd be in love with Buffy and hoping for a future with her? Certainly not him. All these years apart from her he'd been harboring so much animosity over what had happened between them in Sunnydale. The last thing he expected was for her to become a part of his life again, and for him to fall in love with her.

How could he not fall in love with her? She was so strong and vibrant and beautiful, inside and out. Her perseverance in surviving all she'd been through awed him. She'd pushed past all the pain and sorrow and made a life for herself, with a career and friends and family. Not many could do that.

He loved spending time with her, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile. He admired the commitment she had to Hyperion, the place that had helped her put her life back together. He was proud of her artwork and the success she'd achieved with it. There wasn't anything he didn't love about Buffy.

But was he too late in realizing it? Too late to do anything about it? Angel hoped not. Hadn't thought he was. Now he wasn't so sure. Buffy's actions the past hour worried him. He wondered, though, if he should have expected it. Thinking back on how Buffy had acted after their morning together and in the days afterward, a sinking feeling settled in Angel's gut. His feelings for Buffy weren't returned. Her actions practically screamed that truth. How had be not seen it?

“Angel!” Faith smacked him on the side of the head. “Didn't you hear me?”

No, he hadn't. He'd been to busy facing reality. “What?”

“I said you need to talk to her,” she repeated, “find out what's bugging her.”

Buffy exited the bathroom and whatever Angel had planned to say in return remained unsaid. Not that he'd known what to say. He was too confused by this whole damn situation. Faith was right, though. He should talk to Buffy. What he would say, he didn't have a freakin' clue.

“I'm ready,” Buffy said, promptly heading for the door.

Scowling at Buffy, Faith followed along. Looked like she'd have to butt in and get to the bottom of her friend's actions. Not today, though. She was too damn tired to deal with the lovebirds. All she wanted to do right now was sleep for a week. And get laid. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. As she walked out of the room behind Buffy, she wondered where Spike was and how soon she could get him out of his clothes.

{====^====}

Back at the Giles house, where Faith had driven her and Angel, Buffy entered the bedroom Giles and Jenny kept for her. She knew Angel was following her. Just as she knew she had to get him to leave. It was too hard to be around him right now. Half of her wanted him to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, and the other half of her wanted him to just go away. Her head throbbed at the indecision.

She needed to tell him about the baby. But she couldn't tell him. Not now. Not while she was so confused and tired. She'd tell him later, when she could make some sense out of all of this. When she wouldn't be on the verge of bursting into tears. God, what was she going to do?

“Do you...umm...need anything?” Angel asked, stumbling over the question and the awkwardness that now existed between them.

“No,” she replied, dropping the small bag of her belongings from the hospital on the small dresser next to the window.

Resting her hands on the windowsill, Buffy stared out at the backyard, her breathing coming in quick pants. Tears prickled her eyes and she blinked, forcing them back. She couldn't cry in front of Angel, or anyone. They would know something was wrong. She couldn't tell anyone yet about the baby. She didn't want to tell anyone. She just wanted to be alone. Which meant she had to get Angel to leave. He probably couldn't wait to go home anyway. All she ever did was cause trouble for him. In Sunnydale she'd nearly ruined his life, and in LA she'd gotten him shot. What more could she do to him? Oh...yeah...right...she was pregnant with his child and if he found out he would want to marry her even though he didn't love her and he'd end up miserable. Buffy felt the tears burning in her eyes again, and she took a deep breath, willing them away. Turning to face Angel, Buffy knew what she had to say to him.

“I, umm, just wanted to say thank you for everything you did,” she began, nearly choking on the words as she forced them past her lips. “I know you did a lot more than you had to by taking time off to stay with me. I just...I appreciate it.”

Angel's spine stiffened at the cold, blunt statement. He wanted to tell her he didn't give a fuck about her gratitude. He'd do it all over again and more if he could. Instead, he said, “You're welcome,” in an equally unfeeling tone.

“I know you have to get back to LA and to your life, so I just wanted to...to tell you that,” she stumbled over the last part of her speech, the words tasting like dust in her mouth. This was just so hard.

Well, Buffy couldn't have been more clear about what she wanted, Angel fumed silently. She was practically pushing him out the door. Or more like giving him a swift kick in the ass to get out. Suddenly, he couldn't stand to be in the room any longer, listening to Buffy's platitudes while she shredded his heart out and stomped on it. She didn't want him here, fine. He knew when to cut his losses.

“Just doing my job,” he ground out, the words bitter and cold on his tongue. He rotated and stomped toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he faced Buffy one more time. “I hope you're feeling better soon.”

And then he was gone. The moment the door slammed closed behind him, Buffy collapsed on her bed, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She protectively cradled her hands over her abdomen as her sobs echoed silently throughout the room. Angel was gone. She was alone. No...she wasn't alone. She had her baby. Angel's baby. That thought only made her cry harder.

By the time Jenny came to check on her, Buffy had cried herself to sleep, but the dried tear tracks on her cheeks clued Jenny in to the fact that something was wrong.

{====^====}
Part 20
{====^====}

Faith stood in front of the door to Angel's apartment with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. She hadn't seen her friend and partner in over a week. He'd taken more of his vacation time so he hadn't been to work, and he hadn't answered any of her twenty or so phone calls either. It was beginning to piss her off. Okay, more than beginning to. She was pissed off. Even more so now because he didn't seem to have any desire to answer his door either. She knew he was home. His car was in the parking lot outside his building.

What the hell was his problem? Faith knew the answer to that: Buffy. Something had happened between them in the hospital in Sunnydale. Ever since the morning before Buffy was released, Angel had been out of sorts. That was two weeks ago, and he was still out of whack. Not that she could tell exactly since he was avoiding her. But the fact that he was avoiding her said enough. Well, she wasn't leaving until she saw him and gave him a swift kick in the ass.

Also on the menu was trying to figure out what had thrown a monkey wrench in whatever relationship existed between Buffy and Angel. Faith couldn't figure it out. She knew there was something between them. It was those two who didn't seem to get it. They were fighting it for whatever reason. She'd thought after seeing them together that first night in the hospital that they'd finally gotten a clue. Apparently not. Faith shook her head at the weirdness of it all.

Buffy wasn't saying a word either. Oh, she actually answered the phone when Faith called her at her aunt and uncle's house in Sunnydale, but whenever the subject of Angel came up, Buffy found a convenient excuse to get off the phone. So Faith hadn't been able to get answers on that end either. Between the two of them, she was going to go nuts. She wasn't going to take no for an answer this time. Angel was damn well going to talk to her.

Her fist jerked out and pounded heavily on Angel's door. “Open the fucking door, Angel! I'm not going away until you do!”

She pounded again – insistently.

“I'm not giving up, Angel!”

Pound. Pound. Pound.

“I'll pick the lock if I have to!”

Pound. Pound. Pound.

“Angel! Op-”

The door jerked open and Faith's raised fist hit air instead of wood. She stumbled forward slightly, righted herself and glared at Angel, who glared right back at her.

“Go away, Faith,” he growled at her and started to swing the door closed.

Faith stuck her foot out and caught the door, forcing it to remain open. “I don't think so.” She pushed passed him and into the apartment. “Thanks, don't mind if I come in,” she taunted over her shoulder.

“Did you not hear me?” he snarled, throwing the door closed and stalking toward Faith.

“Jesus. Did a dumpster explode in here or something?” she exclaimed after catching a look at Angel's apartment.

It literally looked like a dumpster exploded. A couple of pizza boxes sat on the floor by the sofa. The coffee table had several Chinese take-out cartons. Soda bottles, beer bottles, and cups littered various other surfaces. A chip bag was on the floor in front of the TV, and Faith wasn't sure, but it looked like there was a candy bar wrapper in the potted palm below one of the windows. And that was only the food trash. It said nothing of the clothes tossed everywhere. Faith had never known Angel to be even remotely messy.

“Sorry, cleaning lady hasn't been by,” Angel bit out, not sparing a glance at all the trash.

“You don't have a cleaning lady,” she shot back, picking up a pair of boxer shorts off a lamp shade. “This is worse than I thought.”

“What is?” he muttered, thinking he'd have been better off leaving Faith outside his door making a racket. Maybe one of his neighbors would have been kind enough to call the cops on her so she'd go away. Of course, since Faith was a cop, it probably wouldn't have done any good.

“You.” Faith waved a negligent hand at him, rolling her eyes. “This is pathetic, Angel.”

“Did I ask your opinion?” Angel snapped, grabbing the boxers out of Faith's hand and tossing them blindly into a corner of the room.

“This is getting ridiculous, Angel. What the fuck is wrong with you?” she inquired forcefully.

“There's nothing wrong. Why would you think there was?” he shot back, towering over her.

“You haven't been answering your phone for one thing. You didn't want to answer the door,” she ticked off on her fingers. “And you took off from work. You never take days off.”

“My shoulder hurts. I was shot, remember?” Angel tossed back, addressing the last point.

“That's bullshit and you know it,” Faith retorted, knowing full well it was just an excuse. “Tell me what's going on,” she asked, this time in a gentle voice, hoping to get through to him for once.

“Just go away, Faith,” he said on a sigh, walking away from her and into the kitchen.

Faith followed and leaned against the counter that separated Angel's kitchen from the living room. “Come on, Angel. I'm your friend. You can talk to me.” He didn't answer. “What happened between you and Buffy?”

His shoulders stiffened at the mention of her name. Buffy. Angel blew out a breath and closed his eyes. He'd been avoiding her name ever since leaving Sunnydale. It hurt too much to think of it. He really should have left Faith standing outside his door. Then he wouldn't have to be dealing with this right now. He wasn't ready to deal with it. Maybe he never would.

Angel pulled open the refrigerator and stared blankly at it's meager contents. He didn't really want anything, but it gave him something to do. Behind him, he could hear Faith tapping her fingers on the linoleum. Why wouldn't she just go away? All he wanted was to be left alone to wallow in misery. He should have known she wouldn't just let him be.

Pushing the fridge door closed, he turned back to Faith who was staring at him expectantly. Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. “How is she?”

“Why don't you call her and ask her?”

“She won't talk to me,” he mumbled, shuffling out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

The sheer wretchedness in his tone got to Faith. It wasn't any fun prodding Angel when he was so miserable. Giving in, she finally told him what she knew about Buffy. Maybe it would help him to open up and tell her what happened between them.

“Buffy's fine. Her fingers are healing. Still sore, along with the cracked rib, but no problems. And she said most of the bruising has faded.”

“She said?” he repeated, latching onto that one detail while feeling relief that Buffy was getting better. “You haven't seen her?”

“No.” Faith gave a quick shake of her head, then strode over to the sofa and dropped down onto a clean spot. “She's still in Sunnydale at her uncle's place.”

“Oh.” He hadn't known that.

In truth, he didn't have a clue about anything dealing with Buffy since he'd left her two weeks ago. He supposed it made sense that she would stay with her family while she was healing. They would be able to help her. She obviously didn't want his help. She didn't want him around at all.

“I'm not leaving here until you tell me what's going on between you and Buffy,” Faith stated, getting comfortable by propping her boots up on the coffee table in between empty cartons of take-out.

“I don't know what's going on!” he exclaimed in exasperation. And he really didn't know. One minute things were okay, the next Buffy had clammed up and pretty much kicked him out.

“Something obviously happened or you wouldn't be here, not having a clue how Buffy is.” Faith looked at Angel, one eyebrow raised, daring him to deny it. He didn't. “Explain to me everything. Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

Why not? Angel voiced silently. Perhaps Faith could shed some light on Buffy's behavior. He certainly didn't have any idea why Buffy had acted they way she did. Anything Faith could tell him was better than the nothing that he knew. Sighing, he tossed a pair of pants off the chair next to the couch and sat.

“I don't know what happened,” he repeated his earlier assertion. “It was like one minute, she wanted me there, and the next she couldn't get me out the door fast enough.”

“What do you mean? She just kicked you out?” That didn't sound like Buffy. Grant it, the relationship between Buffy and Angel was more than odd, but Faith would bet anything that Buffy was in love him with. So why would she give Angel the boot?

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair and thought back to all that had happened. “She was fine with me in the hospital after we found her. I stayed in her room all night. She even asked me to stay. The next morning she seemed fine. Her aunt came and Buffy sent me home with her to eat and shower. She was still fine with me then. When I got back, she'd changed.”

“How so?”

“She would barely talk to me, wouldn't look at me. It was like I was the last person she wanted to see,” he frowned as he thought of how Buffy acted. He went on to explain to Faith how animated Buffy had been when talking to Oz in the hospital, but how she almost ignored him. Then he told her about the confrontation after he'd gone home with Buffy to her uncle's house, how Buffy had basically told him to leave. Even repeating it to Faith didn't help it make sense.

“That's weird.” She pondered what Angel had told her. None of it made sense. “Did you ask her what was wrong?”

“Yeah. She said she was fine. And she was with everyone but me.” Angel slumped back in the chair, dejected at Faith's lack of input. “I guess she just didn't want me around.”

“Something had to have happened, Angel,” Faith disagreed, trying to figure it all out. What could have made Buffy act that way?

“I don't know what it was.” And he'd spent the last two weeks trying to understand it while haunting his apartment and eating nothing but greasy take-out.

The cell phone on Faith's belt chirped, jarring Faith from her thoughts of what could be wrong with Buffy that would make her push Angel away. She flipped open the phone and uttered a terse hello, then listened. Releasing an annoyed breath, she said goodbye and ended the call. Standing, she studied Angel for a moment.

“I gotta go. Break on a new case.” She started for the door then turned back to Angel. “You need to talk to her, Angel. Make her talk to you. If you really love her, you won't give up.”

Before Angel could think of a reply – his mind was stuck on Faith somehow knowing that he loved Buffy – she was out the door. He could only stare after her, wondering how she knew, and if she was right. Should he really try to talk to Buffy?

{====^====}

The tile was cold on Buffy's cheek, but that was the very last thing she cared about. She knew if she even tried to move to get off the floor she'd puke. If she just lay there for a few minutes, her stomach would settle. Maybe. Hopefully. And if it didn't, she'd be content to stay where she was for the rest of the day. She had no where to go. So what did it matter if she spent the whole day on the bathroom floor?

Another wave of nausea churned through Buffy's stomach. She groaned, rubbing a soothing hand over her belly. It didn't help, but it felt better than doing nothing. Buffy knew if she waited just a few more minutes it would pass. That's the way it had been so far.

Four days ago, morning sickness had struck her with a vengeance. She'd woken up one morning and had to sprint to the bathroom. Every day since started off the same way. Within a half hour of throwing up everything in her stomach she felt fine and remained that way for the rest of the day. So far, the morning sickness was the only symptom of her pregnancy Buffy noticed. But it was by far an unpleasant symptom. She wasn't looking forward to doing this for however long it decided to afflict her.

Another five minutes passed and Buffy felt her stomach settle. She slowly pulled herself up off the floor, hoping the nausea wouldn't return. It didn't, for which she was grateful. At the sink, she brushed her teeth and splashed cold water on her face. For a few minutes, she just stood there at the sink, staring at herself in the mirror.

Her hand drifted down to her perfectly flat belly. The sickness was the only sign that she was pregnant. But she knew there was a baby growing inside her. Angel's baby. Tears filled Buffy's eyes at the thought of him. He'd been gone for two weeks and she missed him terribly. She knew it was for the best, though. At least for now, until she managed to come to grips with what the doctor had sprung on her in the hospital after her kidnapping.

Buffy knew she had to tell Angel. And she would. Soon. She couldn't even contemplate not telling him at all. That would be beyond unfair. He was the father of their baby and he deserved to know. She just was not ready to deal with it yet, or how he would react. Until she was sure of herself and what she was going to do, she couldn't tell Angel. Hopefully he would understand why she'd kept it to herself for a few weeks.

With a heavy sigh, Buffy finally left the bathroom. Entering her bedroom, she was surprised to see Jenny standing by they dresser, apparently waiting for her. As soon as Buffy was fully in the room, Jenny wordlessly went to the door and closed it. She turned to Buffy and stared at her, seeming to be debating her words.

“So...,” Jenny started, her voice gentle and unaccusing. “How far along are you?”

“Wh-what?” Buffy stuttered, taken by surprise at the intuitive question.

Jenny gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know all about running to the bathroom right after you get up,” she said, referring to when she was pregnant less than a year ago.

“When did you figure it out?” Buffy asked, seeing that there was no sense in denying it.

“It wasn't hard,” Jenny replied with a slight shrug. “I knew there was something going on with you and Angel. You've been unusually quiet these last two weeks. It was hearing you run to the bathroom two mornings in a row that made me suspicious.”

When Buffy didn't say anything, Jenny walked over to her niece and took her hands in hers. “How long have you known?”

“Two weeks,” answered Buffy, her lower lip trembling from the stress of the situation. “The doctor took blood when I was in the hospital and found out.”

“Have you told Angel?” Buffy shook her head no. Jenny pressed further. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I will. Soon,” she reassured.

“How are you doing? I know you must be scared,” Jenny said softly. She knew it had to be difficult for Buffy, being young, single, and now pregnant.

“It...it's confusing. This is the last thing I expected to happen,” Buffy responded, knowing her words didn't do justice to what she was really feeling.

“You have choices, you know,” offered Jenny. She wouldn't push Buffy in either direction, but she wanted to make sure Buffy knew there was more than one option for her to choose.

“I...I want to have the baby.” The breath whooshed out of Buffy's lungs after saying it. Until now, she hadn't actually voiced the thought, silently or aloud. But it was true. She wanted to have this baby.

“Are you sure? Rupert and I will support you no matter what you decide. I'm sure Dawn will too. We all love you.”

“I'm sure.”

She was sure. Now that she'd said it, Buffy felt more confident. Yes, she wanted to have this baby. It wouldn't be easy. Having a child never was, but Buffy knew she would handle it. And with her career going so well, she knew money wouldn't be a problem. Her career itself wouldn't be either. She worked from home. It was the perfect situation. Almost. There was still...

Seeing the sad look in Buffy's eyes made Jenny's heart hurt. She knew what caused it. “Are you scared of telling Angel? Do you think he'll be angry?

“No, it's not that.” At least Buffy didn't think he would be angry, but she couldn't really be sure. Her worries, though, were along a different path. “I just don't want him to do something because he feels obligated. We're not...together...like that. He doesn't love me.”

Jenny wasn't so sure about that, but it likely wouldn't do any good to say otherwise. She'd seen the way Angel looked at her niece. There were definite feelings on Angel's part. Buffy would have to find that out on her own. All she could do was offer her support.

“Talk to him, Buffy. You might be surprised by what he says.”

“Buffy!” came Dawn's shout from the hallway. Soon her sister was trotting into the room. “There's someone here to see you.”

Who could possibly be here to see her? Buffy wondered. All her friends were in Los Angeles, and her family all lived in the house. So who was waiting for her? Before Buffy could ask Dawn, a large body appeared in the doorway. She trailed her eyes upwards, already knowing what she'd find, and came face to face with Angel. Her heart began to pound and her throat went dry. Nausea hit her like a ton of bricks, but this time she knew it wasn't because of morning sickness.

“A-angel,” she choked out, her eyes darting to her aunt, hoping for help. Jenny just looked at her, silently telling Buffy what she needed to do.

“I was hoping I could talk to you, Buffy,” Angel said, taking a step into the room.

The deer-in-headlights look on Buffy's face pained him, but he wasn't going to back down. He'd spent all of last night debating what Faith had advised him to do, and when he'd woken up this morning, he hadn't let himself over-think it any longer. Instead, he had showered, dressed and jumped in his car. By the time he had second thoughts, he was a third of the way to Sunnydale. Now it was too late to change his mind. And he didn't want to. He and Buffy needed to settle whatever was between them.

Startled at the request, Buffy again looked to Jenny for intervention. “I, umm-”

“We'll just leave you alone,” Jenny cut off whatever excuse Buffy was about to say. She put a hand on Dawn's back and gave her a gentle push toward the door.

All too soon, in Buffy's opinion, she was left alone in her room with Angel. She couldn't seem to make herself look at him. What did he want? How would she be able to stand here so close to him and not fall apart? It was so hard being near him, but knowing she couldn't have him. Then there was the baby...Buffy shivered, fearing the talk she would have to have with him. She didn't know if she had the courage to tell him the truth yet.

“How are you?” Angel asked the foremost question on his mind.

“Better.” Scooting around her bed, Buffy placed some distance between herself and Angel. “Most of the soreness is gone. The doctor said everything is healing okay.”

“That's good.” Though Faith had already told him Buffy was fine, it helped to hear it come from Buffy herself. It appeared as though she would make a full recovery from her ordeal. Even so, as Angel stared at her, he couldn't help noticing that Buffy seemed a little...off. Her face was pale, and for some reason, she just looked different.

“You drove all the way to Sunnydale to ask me how I was?” Buffy could have bitten her tongue after the question slipped out. Could she be any more rude?

“I...I wanted to talk to you,” he stated hesitantly, knowing that the outcome of this discussion could change his life.

“Talk?” Studying Angel, Buffy felt herself break out in a sweat. He looked so serious. “About what?”

“Us,” he blurted out.

“Us?” she repeated in a squeak. That was the last thing she'd expected to hear him say.

“You've been avoiding talking about anything to do with...us...for weeks,” Angel relayed, not taking his eyes off Buffy. He didn't know what he hoped to see.

“I-I-I don't know what you're talking about.” Of course she knew what he was talking about. She just wasn't going to admit it. The last thing she wanted was to have this 'talk'. The one where Angel said they were friends and that was all.

Angel knew she was lying. He could tell by the way her eyes darted around the room. For now, he'd not call her on it. Damned if he knew what to say to her though. This was even more difficult than he'd expected. He'd thought he would know what to say once he was face to face with Buffy, but nothing was coming to him.

The continued silence from Angel fortified Buffy's resolve. He was only trying to think of a way to let her down easy. So she would just say what so far he hadn't been able to.

“It's okay, Angel. I...” She took a deep breath and forced the words out. “I know what happened that morning in...in my kitchen was a mistake. We shouldn't have done...that. It was just the situation. We were both stressed out. I don't want it to get in the way of us being...friends.”

Buffy's words felt like a thousand arrows striking him directly in the heart. He'd come to her hoping that they could possibly have a future together. He loved her. Part of him believed that she loved him as well. But apparently he was wrong. Buffy wanted them to be friends. Her proclamation hurt more than he could say and crushed every dream that had sprung to life inside him.

“Do you mean that?” he asked hoarsely, pushing the words past his lips. Really, he wanted to shake her and scream 'No! I don't want to be just friends! I want more!'.

Something in Angel's tone gave Buffy pause. Was he disappointed over what she'd said? No. He couldn't be. It was relief she'd heard. He was only glad that she'd said what he was about to, and that she understood what he was feeling. That was all.

“Yes,” she reaffirmed her statement.

The droop in his shoulders couldn't be helped. If felt like there was a crushing weight over his entire body. Buffy didn't love him. That was all he could think about. Every hope he'd had before coming to Sunnydale was futile. There would be no future with Buffy. She wanted to be friends, but he couldn't contemplate that right now. Maybe later when his heart wasn't shattered he would be able to accept being just friends with Buffy, but not right now. All he wanted was to get out of this room and away from Buffy before he fell apart.

“Okay,” he made himself say. “I, umm...I guess that's all there is to say, then.”

“Yeah.” Buffy almost choked on the word. That wasn't all there was to say. She wanted to scream out that she loved him, that she was pregnant with his baby, but her mouth remained closed. There was no way she would tell him she loved him. Not now, not ever. And she wasn't yet up to telling him about the baby. That would have to wait until she was more prepared and mentally stronger.

Angel gave a quick nod. That was it. That's all there was to it. Whatever was between them was over and done with. Time to cut his losses. He turned and strode stiffly to the door. But before he could walk through, he stopped. Something inside him wouldn't let him leave yet. A little voice inside his head was telling him to say one more thing. He tried to force the words back, but they were screaming to be said.

“Buffy?” he voiced softly, not turning around, and all the while telling himself to leave. He was only inviting more hurt if he let the words slip out, but he remained in the doorway.

“Yeah?” Buffy was glad he couldn't see her so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. In case he faced her again, though, Buffy turned away and stared out the window.

“I love you.”

The three little words slammed into Buffy and her knees buckled. She latched onto the windowsill, heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't have...Angel hadn't just...she had to be...Angel loved her? Tears falling down her cheeks, Buffy spun around, prepared to launch herself at Angel. Except...

...he was gone.

{====^====}
Part 21
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AN:  Well, this is the last chapter folks!  I hope you'll all like it!  It's been a lot of fun posting this fic :)  I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been sending feedback, especially those of you at ff.net, and Enchanting Place, and everyone else who sent feedback for almost every chapter.  You guys are awesome!  For those of you who have been asking if I have something new to post soon, I do.  But probably not for a month or so.  You shouldn't have to wait too terribly long, though.

Enjoy the chapter!
~Isis

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A light drizzle dampened Angel's clothes as he slowly made his way back to his apartment. He didn't even notice the rain, and if he had, he wouldn't have cared. What did it matter if he got soaked? It didn't. Nothing mattered at the moment. Buffy didn't love him. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since his visit to Sunnydale and that one thought kept echoing inside his head.

And that was exactly why he was wandering around at three in the morning. His apartment had been suffocating him. So he'd left. At first he'd thought maybe he would find a bar and get drunk, but once he was seated at the wooden counter of the first bar he'd found, the idea lost its appeal. Instead, he'd sat there for two hours nursing the same beer. He probably would have sat there for another two hours if he hadn't been kicked out because it was closing time.

Now he was inching his way back home, back to where he would be alone with his thoughts. Not an appealing prospect, but he had nowhere else to go. Sleep would be nice. He doubted it would happen, though. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Buffy. She was forever burned into his mind.

Arriving at the front door of his building, Angel used his key to let himself in. He bypassed the elevator in favor of the stairs. The longer it took him to get back to his apartment, the better. So he trudged up the stairs one by one, his footsteps resounding loudly in the empty space. All too soon, he reached his floor. Pulling open the door, he exited and stepped into the hallway. After taking a few steps, he turned right and then abruptly stopped.

Angel stared the few feet down the hall to his door, thinking he had to be seeing things. He blinked and then blinked again, but still the sight did not change. Maybe he'd had more to drink at the bar than he remembered. Or maybe someone had spiked his beer. But Angel didn't feel drunk. If that was the case – if he wasn't drunk or imagining things – then what he was seeing was real.

Still not accepting his vision, Angel took small steps forward until he was only a foot away. He stared down at the small figure hunched against his door. Her back rested against the wood and her knees were pulled up against her chest. With her head resting on top of her knees her blonde hair brushed lightly against her calves. There was no mistaking who it was.

Buffy.

Why was she there? Why was she torturing him further? Hadn't they already said all that needed to be said?

Angel backed away a step, overwhelmed and unnerved by this newest development. The last thing he'd expected when he returned home was to find Buffy sitting on his doorstep. What could she possibly want? She hadn't said a word since he'd walked around the corner. Which might have something to do – he realized – with the fact that she was asleep. He'd been too shocked to notice before that her eyes were closed and her breathing deep and even. Great. Buffy was asleep right in front of his door. Now what was he supposed to do?

He couldn't get through his door with Buffy situated the way she was. Even if he could, his conscience wouldn't allow him to just leave her there sleeping. His building was pretty safe, but he wasn't about to take chances. That meant Angel needed to wake her up, see what she wanted, and then send her on her way if he wanted to get into his apartment. Or – and there was always an 'or' – he could pick her up and take her inside. He stared down at her peaceful, sleeping face. The idea of waking her up when she likely needed the sleep seemed wrong. But so did taking her inside. He was screwed either way.

Concern for Buffy won out. Getting decent sleep was important in recovery, and although she seemed to be doing well, he couldn't make himself wake her. Even if he did, he wasn't comfortable sending her away this late at night. The last thing she needed after all that had already happened was to be out on the streets at three am. All that left him with only one choice. After unlocking his door, he bent down and as gently as possible scooped Buffy up into his arms. She was so deeply asleep that she never stirred, telling Angel that he was doing the right thing by not waking her.

Quietly entering his apartment, he walked over to the couch, thinking to himself that he was glad he'd done a little cleaning after returning from Sunnydale. He laid Buffy on the couch, propping her head on one of the throw pillows. Task done, Angel found himself just standing there staring at her. What was he supposed to do now? Let her sleep, that's what. After all, that's why he'd brought her inside.

Resigned, Angel went into his bedroom and grabbed a blanket. Back in the living room, he tucked it around her body before plopping himself down on one of the nearby chairs. He'd just wait until she woke up, see what she wanted, and that would be end of it. In the meantime, he would torture himself some more by watching her sleep.

{====^====}

“NO!”

The panicked scream jerked Angel awake instantly. Disorientation hit first. He blinked against the bright rays of sun shining in his eyes, and winced at the soreness in his neck. Where was he? He shifted, realizing quickly that he wasn't in his bed. He was in a chair in his living room, where must have fallen asleep after bringing her into his apartment. And Buffy was on his couch.

Buffy!

Angel leapt out of the chair, suddenly remembering the scream that had pulled him from sleep. His eyes darted around the room, searching for some source of danger, but he could see nothing. A small whimper came from the couch and Angel lurched forward, concerned that Buffy was hurting from her injuries. She was still sound asleep, though.

On closer look, not so sound. As Angel watched, Buffy's head thrashed left and right. Her hands twitched and her feet began to kick. Another whimper escaped past her lips.

It didn't take Angel long to figure out that Buffy was having a nightmare. He could make a pretty good guess what about. Being kidnapped and tortured would give anyone nightmares. The question was, what should he do about it? He thought he remembered reading somewhere that waking a person out of a nightmare wasn't always good. Or maybe it was that you were supposed to wake them. He couldn't remember. Either way, he couldn't stand seeing Buffy thrashing around like she was.

Kneeling next to the couch, Angel gently laid his hand on her cheek. “Buffy,” he spoke just above a whisper.

Buffy's eyes snapped open instantly. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself staring into Angel's dark brown eyes. She blinked, confusion clouding her mind. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming of Angel. Why else would he be right there in front of her? As her drowsiness faded away, she remembered returning to Los Angeles and coming to Angel's apartment. Her eyes flicked around the room. How had she gotten inside?

“I brought you inside when I got home,” Angel explained, seeing the perplexed look on Buffy's face. “You were dead to the world so I put you on the couch. You've been asleep for hours. I didn't want to wake you, but you started moving around and whimpering.”

“It was just a...dream,” Buffy replied evasively, suddenly feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the situation and Angel.

When she'd resolved to come to Los Angeles to talk to Angel she hadn't expected to fall asleep on his doorstep and then wake up on his couch. Truthfully, she didn't know what she'd expected. All she knew was that after what he'd said to her in Sunnydale, she had to talk to him again. His parting words to her had set her world adrift. The very last thing she'd thought he would say to her was a proclamation of love. Part of her still wondered if she had dreamed it all up. But she had to know. She needed to know if he meant it.

“A nightmare?” he prodded, telling himself he was being stupid for asking. He didn't need any of this. He should just find out why she'd come to his apartment and then tell her to leave. It was the only way he'd be able to remain sane.

Buffy shrugged, not particularly wanting to talk about it, but she answered anyway. “Yeah.”

“About what happened?” When she nodded, he continued despite telling himself to shut up. “Have you had many?”

Again, Buffy shrugged. “Just a couple. Nothing major.” At least she wasn't lying. The dreams had been sporadic, and mostly consisted of darkness and a taunting voice. They would fade over time, Buffy knew. She'd had nightmares before, especially after her mother died.

“Maybe you should, umm, talk to someone. About the nightmares,” Angel said haltingly. Why was he sitting here talking to Buffy about dreams when he didn't want to be around her period?

“I'll be fine,” she answered and pushed herself up to a seated position on the couch.

The move brought her body closer and Angel promptly stood up and walked over to the windows a few feet away. He definitely needed some space. Maybe then his mind would clear and he'd be able to get Buffy out of his apartment and out of his life. He couldn't stand being this near to her.

Silence reigned in the room. Buffy sat on the couch staring at Angel's back. She got the distinct feeling that Angel didn't want her there. At the moment, his posture seemed to be screaming his displeasure at the situation. Her heart clutched at the thought. Was it too late?

“Angel?” she whispered.

His body stiffened at the pleading word. He didn't answer right away. What could he possible say? Finally, he forced out the foremost question on his mind. “Why are you here, Buffy?”

“There...there's something I-I need to tell you,” she replied, stumbling over the words. “But first...I...I want to...to ask you something.”

At her hesitant, tense request, Angel turned to face Buffy once again. He couldn't image what she wanted to ask him, let alone tell him. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out. After she'd sent him away in Sunnydale, he thought he couldn't possibly hurt anymore, but having her right there, only a few feet away, made the pain so much worse. He was so tempted to tell her that he didn't care what she had to say and that he wanted her to leave, but he couldn't make the words come out.

“What?” he asked, resigned to having to deal with whatever was on her mind.

“Did...did...” The words wouldn't come out. Buffy chewed on her lower lip and told herself to just say it. “Did...did you mean what you said...right before you...you left?”

Angel didn't have to ask what she was referring to. He knew. Those words were permanently seared into his brain. He still wasn't sure why he'd said them before leaving. They'd just forced their way out. Just one more knock to his ego. And now here was Buffy, wanting to know if he'd meant them. Why? So she could apologize for not loving him back? So she could tell him she only thought of him as a friend?

He considered telling her no, that he'd lied. What would it hurt? But he had said those ever-important words, and he'd meant them. Backing away now didn't seem right.

“Yes,” he answered simply.

Tears burned in Buffy's eyes. She dipped her head to hide them, all the while feeling a competing sense of relief over his answer, and guilt over the way she'd acted. How could she have misread the situation so completely? Never had she imagined that Angel returned her feelings. Because she hadn't, she'd pushed him away. And almost lost him. Was it too late to make things right? She prayed they still had a chance.

“I...I thought...,” Buffy choked back a sob, overwhelmed by his admission, and likely suffering from fluctuating hormones. She sucked in air, trying to calm herself. “I thought that-that you barely considered me a friend. That's why I...I...”

“You what?” At the prompt, Buffy lifted her head and the tears in her eyes tore at something in him.

“That's...that's why I kept avoiding...talking..about us. I-I thought you would tell me we were only friends. Barely friends,” she explained just above a whisper.

“But that's what you said...,” Angel trailed off as the gist of the conversation suddenly began to make sense to him. He scrubbed a hand over his face at the exasperating reality. They'd both been making assumptions about what the other one felt, and in the process they'd deceived and pushed each other away. It was like a damn soap opera.

Walking over to the couch, Angel sat down next to Buffy and took hold of one of her hands. “I admit that when you first opened your apartment door that night of the break-in, you were the very last person I wanted to see. But we put the past behind us. I understand what happened in Sunnydale, and even if I didn't, we're both different people now. I got to know the real you, and I fell in love with you.” Throughout his whole speech, his thumb caressed Buffy's hand lightly, and his eyes held hers.

“Oh, Angel. I love you, too,” she said softly, sniffling back her tears. Angel loved her!

Angel wrapped his arms around Buffy and pulled her close. Every tense muscle in his body loosened and a sense of peace spread through him. “You don't know what it means to hear you say that.”

“I'm sorry about the way I acted in Sunnydale,” she sniffled, rubbing her cheek against Angel's chest. It felt so good to be held by him. “I just didn't think I could handle hearing you tell me we were only friends.”

“So you said it to me first,” he filled in the rest, leaning his head down to touch his cheek to the top of Buffy's head. God, they'd both been such idiots, and in the process almost lost each other. Buffy nodded at his assumption and Angel sighed. “We were both pretty stupid.”

“Yeah.” She echoed his sigh. “I never thought you'd be able to love me.”

“How could I not?” he asked, though he wasn't requesting an answer. “You're kind and caring, amazingly talented. You've got an inner strength that amazes me. You're brave and beautiful. It'd be impossible for me not to love you.”

His sweet words made her tears fall again. Only in her wildest dreams had she thought Angel would feel that way about her. She'd resigned herself to the fact that they would never be together. Now, a whole new world was opening up to her. One with Angel at her side. That knowledge only made her tears fall faster.

“Hey.” Angel reached up and used his thumb to lightly brush the moisture away. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” She smiled at him. “They're just happy tears. And relieved tears.”

“Relieved?”

“Yeah. I almost lost you, Angel.” Buffy lifted a hand and touched his cheek. “I chased you away and almost lost you.”

“But you didn't,” he reassured her, leaning into her hand. “Everything's all right now. We found each other. Whatever happened before is over. We've got a whole future ahead of us.”

Angel turned his head and kissed Buffy's palm. Inside, his heart felt light and yet full of love. All the hurt and pain that had weighed him down since leaving Sunnydale had evaporated. He had Buffy in his arms. Right where she belonged. He shuddered to think of what might have happened if he hadn't uttered those three little words before leaving her. But he had and they'd changed everything. He'd be forever grateful for that.

The sense of contentment Buffy felt only lasted a moment. There was something she'd yet to tell Angel. Something she had to tell him. Now. It could possibly change everything. How would he react? It scared her down to her bones thinking of how Angel might react. Despite that fear, she knew she had no choice. The baby growing inside her wasn't going to go away. Not that she wanted it to. She wanted her baby. Angel's baby. She just didn't know if he would feel the same way, or if he'd be angry with her. Not only because she was pregnant, but because she hadn't yet told him. Well, no time like the present.

She pulled out of Angel's arms and faced him, her face serious. “There...there's something I need to tell you.”

Seeing the look on her face, Angel grew worried. “What is it? Is something wrong? Are your injuries not healing right?”

“No. It's nothing like that. Well, not really. I, um...” Buffy blew out a breath. This was so incredibly hard. “First, I want you to know that I planned on telling you no matter what. I wasn't trying to hide it. I just...I needed some time to accept it. Everything was so crazy and I was freaked out.”

Her vague words only made Angel worry more. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. It'll be okay.”

“I hope you're right,” she mumbled. She straightened her shoulders and looked directly at Angel. Might as well just say it. “I'm pregnant.”

Angel heard the words. They bounced around his head in a thundering echo. Pregnant? He blinked. Opened his mouth. Blinked again. Pregnant? Buffy'd just said....he'd heard...pregnant? His mouth opened again, words on the tip of his tongue, but no sound came out. His jaw snapped closed and open once more before he finally was able to speak.

“Pregnant?”

“Yes,” Buffy nodded her head, not sure what to think of Angel's completely shell-shocked look. She pressed on, hoping he would understand. “We...we didn't use protection that morning in my...my kitchen, and I, um, I wasn't on the pill. When the doctor took blood when I was in the hospital, she found out I was just over a week pregnant.”

“But...but that was over two weeks ago!” Angel replied sharply, his eyes narrowing as the realization came that Buffy had known for that long and hadn't told him. Buffy was pregnant. And she hadn't told him. He moved to get off the couch but Buffy grabbed his hand.

“Please, Angel. Just give me a minute to explain. I know you're probably upset that I didn't tell you right away, but please just listen.” She was grateful that he complied by not moving away from her. So she held on to his hand and took a deep breath.

“I swear I wasn't trying to keep it from you, Angel. It was just such a shock. And everything was so messed up from everything with Willow, and things between us were...unsettled. When the doctor told me, I just kind of freaked out. It was the last thing I expected to happen. And the whole time I...I kept thinking about how much I loved you and...and how I thought you didn't love me.” Blinking back the tears forming in her eyes as she remembered sitting in the hospital after the doctor had dropped her bombshell, Buffy lowered her head. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you as soon as I knew. I just needed some time to let it sink in and accept it.”

“That's what changed that morning at the hospital,” he muttered more to himself than to Buffy. “When I left, you were fine, but when I came back you would barely talk to me and wouldn't look me in the eye.”

Nodding her head, Buffy gave a weak smile. “The doctor had run a second blood test to check the results and she told me while you were gone.” She shrugged helplessly. “I just...freaked. I'd never have hidden it from you, Angel. Even if we hadn't...worked things out.”

Angel blew out a heavy breath, his mind whirling. Buffy was pregnant with his child. The news was finally starting to settle in his brain. And the anger was fading. He put himself in Buffy's shoes and tried to think of how he would react. He'd probably have freaked out too. Things had definitely been tense during that time with the kidnapping and all. He really couldn't blame her for needing some time.

“It's okay, I'm not angry.” He squeezed her hand to show her he understood. “I was just shocked. Stunned.” Angel leaned back against the couch and on a sigh said, “wow. A baby.”

“Yeah. Our baby,” Buffy answered, sniffling as the reality – and hormones – hit her again. “We're going to have a baby.”

“Wow.”

Though the word had sounded a bit awe-struck, Buffy was nervous. Did Angel want to be a father? Did he want to have children with her? She bit her lip and peered at him through her lashes. “Are...are you okay with that?”

The timid question snapped Angel's mind out of the haze it had fallen into. He'd drifted off into visions of a sweet little girl with blonde hair and hazel eyes, just like her mother. But he shook those images off and refocused on Buffy, who was watching him and gnawing on her lower lip. The action and the worried look on her face made him realize he hadn't given Buffy any idea how he felt about the fact that she was pregnant with his baby.

A baby! His baby. Angel still had trouble with the whole concept. He'd never really given much thought to having a family, being a parent. But now...with Buffy...the idea made his heart clench. He wanted that with her. He wanted it all. A future. A family. Everything. A blinding smile grew on his face. He and Buffy were going to have a baby!

“Of course I'm okay with it!” he exclaimed and pulled Buffy into his arms. “God, Buffy,” he breathed out in an amazed sigh into her hair.

“I know,” she echoed his wonderment.

Angel pulled back slightly and looked into Buffy's eyes, the eyes of his past, present and future. All the hurt and pain that had preceded was a distant memory. At the moment, he could barely remember it. The only thing he could think about was Buffy, their future, their baby. He felt as if he were flying through a sun drenched sky. With Buffy at his side.

He raised his hands and cupped her cheeks, never taking his eyes from hers. “I love you, and I love our baby.”

“I love you, too,” she replied, tears trailing down her cheeks. “And I can't wait to have your baby.”

Their lips met in a tender kiss, but after a few seconds, Angel broke the embrace and gazed at Buffy once again. His thumbs traced across her cheeks, reveling in the soft, smooth skin. Inside his chest, his heart felt like it was going to burst with all the love and happiness he was feeling. Life couldn't get much better. Except for one thing...

“Will you marry me, Buffy?”

“Oh, Angel!” Buffy cried and threw her arms around him. “Of course I'll marry you!”

With her acceptance, Angel's lips once again found Buffy's. The gesture started off sweet and gentle, but heat blossomed within seconds. Angel's hands slid down Buffy's back to her hips, pulling her closer. Weeks of pent-up passion boiled to the surface, demanding release, demanding a physical consummation of their union. But Angel hesitated, worrying about Buffy and her health.

“Maybe we shouldn't-”

Buffy placed a finger on his lips. “It's okay,” she whispered, reassuring him. “Make love to me.”

He could never deny her anything. But he didn't mind. He wanted to give her the world. So he slowly lowered her down on the couch, sealing his body to hers. Love flowed between them, over them, around them. Angel thought he'd never felt a moment so perfect.

{====^====}

~ one month later ~

Buffy stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom at Giles and Jenny's house, staring at her reflection. Behind her, Jenny, Faith, Dawn, Cordelia and Fred bickered over something or other. She wasn't paying them much attention. Her mind and eyes were fixed on the sight of her body clad in the simple white dress.

It was really happening. She was really marrying Angel today. Her hand dropped to her still relatively flat stomach. And she was having Angel's baby. It all seemed surreal. Two months ago, she would have thought this all impossible. But everything had changed in such a short time. Changed for the better, but at times she still had difficulty believing it all.

Years ago, her life had been a mess and she'd been on a path to self-destruction. She'd done everything possible to ruin her life and push people away. Her actions had made her lose Angel, but then, she'd never really had him then. What they'd had back then was nothing like what they had now. Sometimes she still wondered how he'd been able to forgive her for what she'd done so long ago. But he had and now they were getting married. How had she gotten so unbelievably lucky?

Jenny stepped up behind Buffy and put her hands on Buffy's shoulders. “You look beautiful,” she said softly. “Your Mom would be so proud of you.”

The mention of her Mother brought tears to Buffy's eyes. “Thank you. I wish she could be here today.”

“She's here, you just can't see her,” Jenny replied. “And I bet she's smiling and happy for you.”

Buffy reached up and squeezed Jenny's hand, thinking of not only how lucky she was to have Angel, but to also have Jenny and her Uncle Giles. They'd always been there for her, supporting her and helping her pull her life together. Buffy didn't know where she would have ended up without them.

Coming to stand next to Buffy, Cordelia put her hands on her hips. “No crying! I just did your make-up!”

“Sheesh, Cordy,” Faith muttered, glaring at Cordelia. “She's supposed to cry on her wedding day.”

Cordy put her hands on her hips and returned Faith's glare. “Who says?”

Butting in between the two, Dawn scowled at both of them. “Oh will you two shut up!”

Buffy couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. Just another day with her nutty friends.

Giving Buffy a once over, Cordy rolled her eyes. “Well, at least she's not crying.” Faith snorted.

A knock came on the door and Giles poked his head in. “It's time, Buffy. Are you ready?”

Buffy pressed a hand to the flutters in her stomach that had nothing to do with her pregnancy. She didn't know why she was so nervous. She couldn't wait to be married to Angel. But she supposed nerves were natural. So she gave Giles a nod and picked up her bouquet of flowers off the dressers.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” she said with a smile.

The group filed out of the room and down the stairs. The wedding was taking place in the back yard of the Giles house, so they congregated at the back door. Jenny exited and walked down the aisle to take her seat in the first row. Soon, the music began and Buffy watched as first Cordelia, Fred, and Dawn marched down the aisle to their places near the minister. Once they were in position, Faith followed as Buffy's maid of honor – a title she held at Dawn's insistence. And then it was time.

Giles took Buffy's arm and smiled down at her whimsically. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Buffy.”

Buffy smiled at him and squeezed his arm, too choked up for words. They stepped up to the door and then through. Fresh spring air floated around her, birds chirped in the trees, the sun glowed brightly over the guests who stood at Buffy's appearance, but she saw or heard none of it. The moment she'd walked through the door, her eyes had sought and found Angel's.

Her heart and nerves settled at the sight of him, standing tall in his tuxedo next to the minister. He smiled at her and her breath backed up in her lungs. He looked so handsome. And he was all hers. Soon they would be husband and wife. His eyes reflected the same knowledge.

The trip down the aisle passed in a blur. She'd been too busy staring at Angel, but suddenly she was there and Giles was placing her arm within Angel's and giving them his blessing before taking his seat next to Jenny. As the minister began to speak, Buffy felt tears gathering in her eyes again. Tears of happiness. Tears of joy. She didn't stop them from falling.

Angel placed his free hand over the one Buffy had resting on his arm. He knew the minister was speaking, but the actual words were almost unimportant. Only the sentiment was. He knew his friends and family were nearby, but his attention was solely on Buffy. She looked stunning in the simple white silk dress. His eyes drifted to her stomach. He couldn't wait until she started to show. He couldn't wait until they were a family.

The minister cleared his throat, making Angel jerk his eyes way from his bride. A knowing smile played over the man's face and he repeated what he'd previously said.

They'd chosen a simple ceremony and it passed quickly. Angel grinned when the minister pronounced them husband and wife and told him to kiss the bride. Finally! he thought, turning to Buffy.

Leaning into each other, their lips met in what was supposed to be a chaste kiss, though it was anything but. Before either of them knew it, their arms were wrapped around each other, their tongues meeting in an intimate joining. It was Spike's cat-call that finally made them break apart unrepentantly.

“I love you,” Buffy whispered with a teary smile.

“I love you,” Angel returned, and swooped in for another kiss. He broke away, dropped into a crouch and pressed a kiss to Buffy's stomach. “And I love you, too.”

Nearly jumping up, Angel pulled Buffy off her feet and into his arms. He swung her around in a circle, holding her close. The night he and Buffy had reconciled, he'd thought nothing could ever feel so perfect. He'd been wrong. Today was the most perfect day of his life.

{====^====}

THE END.

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