Stumble Into Grace

by Kristi

Chapter Sixteen

-Angel-

            She weeps in her sleep. I don’t know if it’s part of Willow’s spell or not.  I hold her tight, her back curved against my stomach. I bury my nose in the nape of her neck and take deep breaths of her. It bothers me I can’t tell anything by her scent, other then she still wears vanilla perfume.  As a vampire I could ascertain that she was okay or hurt, or sad or scared by her scent alone. Now all I know is she wears vanilla perfume. I place a kiss on the nape of her neck and weep with her.

            It’s almost dawn when she starts talking in her sleep.

            “Not enough time. I’ll never forget, I’ll never forget, I’ll never forget.” She murmurs.

            My blood runs cold.

            She wakes up and turns to me with sleepy gray eyes. There are still fresh tears on her cheeks.  Her bottom lip trembles and I want to rewind time. I want to go back to the twizzler war and call Willow and tell her not to do the spell.

            “I had the weirdest dream.” She murmurs.

            “Tell me about it.” I manage to croak out. I want to press my mouth to hers and whisper go back to sleep, go back to sleep so this doesn’t have to happen.

            “You were human.” She says in her sleepy voice.

            “I am human, Buffy.” I whisper into her hair.

            “No, before, you were human before. I was there you found me on the beach. You kissed me in the daylight. We went to your apartment, the one you had at first in LA. We had tea and I was going to go home but then I touched you, couldn’t stop after we touched, needed more, wanted more. We broke your table. We ate ice cream, and peanut butter and chocolate in your bed. You promised me if I went to sleep we’d make another day just like it. You broke your promise, Angel. We didn’t. You asked some Oracles to take it back. You wanted to be a superhero again.” Her voice is no longer sleepy but it’s broken.

            I don’t say anything. I keep her close and take a deep breath of her. I memorize the feel of her, the smell of her. I know I’m never going to have this again.

            “It wasn’t a dream, was it Angel?” she asks.

            I take another deep breath of her. I kiss the crown of her head. “No, it wasn’t a dream. You hit most of the highlights, but you’re wrong about why I took it back. If I stayed human, you would die. I couldn’t be human if the price was your life. So I came back to the apartment I told you what I’d done. We kissed; we held each other and cried. You swore you’d never forget and then you did. The Oracles swallowed the day, you couldn’t have remembered because it never happened.” I say.

            “I died anyway. I died and you gave up your humanity for nothing.  You took away time that we could have had together.” She says. She doesn’t raise her voice. It’s just got that horrible broken quality to it.

            “Maybe, but we wouldn’t have this.” I say.

            “This? This could end tomorrow. Sure I’m not the only one anymore but I’m still a slayer. Are you going to give this a test run too? Can you give it back if you don’t like?” she asks.

            I shake my head. “No, Buffy, this is my reward. Before, that had nothing to do with the powers. That was a side effect of killing a demon, like when you became telepathic. I can’t give this back and I wouldn’t if I could.”

            “Why did you remember and I didn’t?” she asks.

            “Because the day was swallowed. No one remembered it, except me. I had to remember so that I could make sure it didn’t happen again.” I say.

            “So you just took a whole day away from me without asking?” Her voice wavers.

            “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to hurt. You have no idea what it was like to remember what I’d given up, especially after you died.” I say.

            “No, I don’t. But I do know what it’s like to have bittersweet memories and to cherish every single memory I have with you. I know what it’s like to have only memories to sustain you through the darkest part of the night. I know what it’s like eat and breathe and sleep those memories. I could have had those to remind me that there was life worth living, to remind me that one time I wasn’t a cold dead thing. I could have had that memory to remind me that someone in this world cared if I lived or died. Instead you left me and you took that away from me.”

            The spot just below my rib cage, the sword wound, aches. She pulls away from me and dresses in silence. I grab a pair of pajama pants and slip them on.

            “Buffy, I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t even know about the shanshu prophecy when that happened. The only thing I knew was I wanted to save your life, so I did the only thing I could.” I say.

            “Once again, Angel, you chose a life without me.”

            “Only because I couldn’t live in a world without you in it.” I say.

            She looks down at her feet. Her toenails are painted burgundy today. I can see the tears drip off the end of her nose and fall on her feet, perfect beautiful little feet, far too delicate to support the weight of the world.

            “I’ve got to go. I can’t breathe.” She says and runs out, snagging her shoes from their place by the couch.

            And the apartment is infinitely empty without her in it.

-Buffy-

            He took an entire day away from me. He took our most beautiful moment without a second thought. That hurts so much more then the fact that he traded his humanity for my life. That part, I get. It hurts and I cry for it, but I get it. I would trade my life for his in the space of a heartbeat. I wouldn’t take memories away from him though, never ever, especially not memories so beautiful that they make me weep in remembrance.  I walk bare foot through the city, my shoes in my hand. It’s cold and I know I should feel the cold concrete underneath my feet, but I don’t.

            I wandered around the entire day. It’s almost dark before I return to my apartment. It seems more sterile and cold then it did yesterday.  I pull all the drapes closed. The answering machine is beeping. I ignore it. The phone rings. I jerk the cord out of the wall. I put on my yummy sushi pajamas and crawl in bed. I think I’ll just stay here, for the rest of forever.

-Angel-

            I’ve called her every half hour since she walked out. I’ve left twenty messages on her machine. The machine doesn’t even pick up anymore. It just rings and rings. I pick up the phone and call Willow. It’s the only thing that’s left to do. I ask her to come over to the apartment. The Day that Wasn’t isn’t really something you tell someone about over the phone, even if the someone wasn’t there.

            Willow gets to the apartment quickly, before I’ve even had time to compose my words.

            “What happened, Angel? What went wrong? I can’t get a hold of Buffy.” Willow asks.

            “It’s my fault. You remember the Thanksgiving I went to Sunnydale to protect her and then she came to LA to see her father?” I say.

            Willow nods.

            “I don’t know if she told you or not, but she stopped by my offices.  She thought she was only there a few minutes. What really happened was much more complicated. We fought a Mohra demon. I was wounded and some of its blood mixed with my blood. A Mohra demon’s blood is regenerative. I became human. Buffy and I spent an entire day and night together. The Mohra demon came back; we fought it and killed it but before we did it said that more would come. I went to the Oracles to talk to them, to see what it meant. They told me that if I remained human Buffy would die. I traded my humanity for her life. They turned the day back. I was the only one that remembered.” I say.

            Willow sits down on the couch with me. She looks pale and shaky. “Oh,”

            There is a long, pregnant pause before she finally speaks again.

            “So, I’m kind of taking a leap here, especially since my brain is in shock, but I guess somehow the spell made Buffy remember this?” Willow says.

            I nod. “I don’t know how. The day never happened. She couldn’t remember.”

            “Well she could, kind of. I mean okay let’s suppose that somehow, some part of her deep inside remembered, call it her soul, her heart, whatever, something remembered just not consciously. Unconsciously she probably also felt pain over that day. The spell was supposed to take away the pain from any memory that caused her pain. So it’s kind of like a finder bug it gets in there and ferrets out all the memories that cause her pain. Once it finds those memories it’s sorta got to drag it up so it can dull the pain. That’s the best explanation I can come up with.” Willow says with a sigh.

            “I don’t know what to do, Willow. I can’t live without her.” I’m fighting back tears. Its one thing to cry in front of Buffy, it’s entirely another to cry in front of Willow. The silence in the room is oppressive. I’m losing my battle. I pinch the bridge of my nose and the tears overtake me. My shoulders shudder in response and before I know it I’m sobbing like a baby. Willow scoots over beside me on the couch and pats my shoulder.

            “We’ll do something, Angel. You’ll get her back.”

Chapter Seventeen

-Buffy-

           Angel has called every day. I refuse to take his calls. He’s come by the apartment. I won’t answer the door. I don’t go to work anymore. I don’t do anything except lay in bed and sleep. Sometimes I cry. I was right in the beginning, there’s too much history, to much pain. Love doesn’t conquer all. It’s just a pretty platitude to tell young girls. At an ancient age of almost 29, I know the truth. If love really conquered all, well, do I even have to go there?

            Willow comes by every day and brings my mail inside. She tries to talk to me. Mostly I pretend I’m asleep. I know she’s on Angel’s side.  Somehow that hurts too. I remember years ago when she told me the best friends job was to vilify and grouse. She’s not doing a very good job of either right now. Dawn came back from college a few days ago, for winter break. She’s been staying with Giles. I’m glad. I don’t want anyone here.

            Willow comes in for her daily visit. I lay in bed with my eyes closed. I hope she’ll just go away and give up on the talking. She doesn’t. She comes into my room and sits down on the bed.

            “First of all, I know you’re not asleep, Buffy. Secondly, I know you’re mad at Angel and I don’t blame you, but he screwed up. He did something that he thought was in your best interests. He didn’t want you to die.  He loves you and he’s going to grieve himself to death if you don’t get off your self righteous ass and go talk to him.”

            I open one eye. Willow has resolve face. Her arms are folded over her chest. She’s obviously not going anywhere. I sigh and turn over on my back.

            “Ah ha! I knew you weren’t asleep.” She says.

            I grumble.

            “Buffy, I’m serious. He looks even worse then you do. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep. He hasn’t shaved or showered since you left him. He was stupid. He should have discussed this with you before he did anything, but he made a spur of the moment decision to save your life. Kind of like the spur of the moment decision to save Dawn’s life that you didn’t discuss with any of us that left you pretty much dead.” Willow says.

            “Will, it’s not that part that hurts so badly. It’s the part where he took away my memories. What if Oz erased all the memories you two made in college because it would erase the pain you felt when he left?” I ask.

            Willow thinks about my question for a moment. “I’d be mad. I get that. But here’s the thing, Buffy, Oz and I are making new memories and they are so much better then the memories we made in college. And the thing that’s even better then that, we’re not just making memories; we’re making a life together. You and Angel have that same chance. That day you didn’t remember, you can make a thousand more days just like that one, maybe even better. But if you want to stay in this room and rot and let him rot with you, then there’s nothing Angel or I can do.”

            She stands up and starts to walk out the door.

            “Will, wait.” I say.

            She turns to look at me. “Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve. We’re having a happy Hanukkah Merry Christmas celebration my house. Dawn, Giles, Xander, and Angel are going to be there. We’d like to have you there too.”

            “You invited him over for the holidays?” I say, a bit hurt that Angel got the invitation before I did.

            “Yes, Buffy. I wasn’t going to let him spend it alone. It’s his first holiday human.” Willow says walking out the door.

            I spend the rest of the day and night curled in my bed trying to make decisions about me, Angel and the future we may or may not have together.

            When morning comes I get up off my ass and go Christmas shopping. I ordered Angel’s present ages ago. It’s sitting in a box on my table.  I’ve still got to find something for Willow, Giles, Oz, Xander and Dawn.

            I rush back home with my gifts with just enough time to wrap them and throw on the new white sweater and black pants I bought.  I fiddle with my hair on the cab ride to Willow’s house. Now that I’ve got time to think about it, I’m nervous. This is my first Christmas with Angel since that morning it snowed in Sunnydale.

           That was the most beautiful Christmas of my life. Angel and I spent the entire day walking through the deserted snow covered streets of Sunnydale. We walked until I was numb with cold, but I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want the day to stop. It was a day where the world stood still and made time for just me and Angel.

            The cab pulls up to Willow’s townhouse. The ride was way short this time. I tip the driver good since its Christmas and stand on Willow’s steps with my bag full of Christmas presents. I take deep breaths. I think I’m going to faint. The door opens and I’m so glad its Oz standing there and not Angel.

           “Happy Holidays,” he says as he takes the bag of presents from me.

           “Is he here?” I whisper.

            Oz grins. “I’ll assume you mean he with a capital H.”

           “Well, duh.” I grin back at him.

           “He is. He’s drinking cider with the others in the living room.”

           “Okay, I can do this.” I whisper and step into the house. I walk silently to the living room and stand on the threshold. He’s standing there with a cup in hand talking to Giles about something, probably old books. He is so beautiful tears rush to my eyes.  He’s wearing a sweater of dark burgundy and blue jeans. I smile. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Angel in blue jeans. He feels me and glances up, looking for me. His eyes find mine and his entire face lights up. I can almost read his thoughts. She’s here, she came, and she’s here.

            Giles is still talking when Angel starts towards me. I meet him in the middle of the room. His arms go around me instinctively and I bury myself in him. I take a deep breath. He smells so good, he feels so good, like home.  He touches my face, fingers gliding over my nose, my cheekbones, my eyebrows, my jaw and coming to rest on my lips.

           “You’re real.” He whispers.

            I smile. “So are you.”

           “I thought I’d lost you forever.” His voice cracks.

            I shake my head slightly. “Can’t lose me.”

            He smiles and kisses my forehead, pulling me closer to him. “Not going to try. Forgive me?”

           “Promise never to hide anything from me again.” I say.

           “Promise. I’ve been miserable without you.” He says.

           “I know. Willow told me. I was too.”

           “I know. She told me.” He takes a deep breath of me. “Missed you. I hurt without you, Buffy.”

           “I know the feeling.” I say.

            It takes a little while to convince the both us that we’re here.  Eventually we both become aware that there are other people around us. They have gotten used to us by now. They know Angel makes everything in the world fade away and have gotten past the feeling hurt thing. Willow puts a cup of cider in my hand.

            I can’t remember a Christmas since I was a slayer like this one.  My family, the only one I have, the only one I’d want, is gathered around me. There’s a fire blazing and it’s actually cold enough outside to warrant one. The angel on top of the Christmas tree brushes the high ceiling and there are brightly wrapped presents under it. I grin; Willow has finally succumbed to the pressure of worshipping Santa. We’re singing Christmas carols, and Hanukkah songs, at the top of our lungs. I’m sitting next to the man I love literally more then life itself.

           “Come on, it’s got to be present time.” Dawn says for the fourth time that night.

           “Okay, Dawnie. You wanna play Santa?” Willow asks.

            “We should have gotten Giles a Santa suit.” Dawn says.

            I giggle. The idea of Giles in a Santa suit is just amusing.

            “That would be Father Christmas, thank you very much.” Giles says with a smile.

            The presents are handed all around. We open them one at a time, going around the circle, to make Christmas last longer. I watch pensively as Angel opens his from me. His eyes mist over as he holds it in his hand. It’s a red alabaster heart the size of the center of my palm. Across the top it is engraved “Mo Croi”

            “It’s Gaelic for-“I start.

            “My Heart.” He finishes with a smile.

            I nod. “I give you my heart,”

            He kisses me slowly, lingering. Someone clears their throat and we pull away bashfully.

            “We’d like to finish presents this century.” Xander says with playfulness toward me and Angel that is new.

            Angel’s gift to me is last. It’s a small box and I open it with shaking fingers. Inside is a thin gold band with the words “Amor Vincit Omnia” surrounding the band.

            “Latin, love conquers all.” Angel says as he slips it on the second finger of my left hand. I look up at him with an arching brow.

            “Wrong finger?” I say looking pointedly at the third finger on my left hand.

            “I have plans for that other finger, later.” He says. I thread my arms around his neck. Damn the rest of the presents. I have everything I have ever wanted in my arms right now.  I mean , hello, human Angel. I’ve only wanted this for as long as I’ve known him.

            It’s 2am by the time everyone gets ushered out of Oz and Willow’s house. We’re supposed to return there for dinner and more family holiday happiness in a few hours. We get into Angel’s car. He cranks it and then turns to look at me.

            “If you want me to take you home, I will.” He says.

            “I do.” I say.

            He looks almost hurt. I reach out and lay my hand on his cheek. “Home is where ever you are, Angel. It always has been. Besides, that apartment, entirely too big for you.”

            He gives me one of my smiles and my heart flip flops. God I love this man with everything in me. I snuggle up against his side, stretched over the gap between the seats. He wraps his arm around me and drives with one hand on the steering wheel.

            “I love my present.” He says.

            “I bought it weeks ago. You’re a very hard man to buy for.” I yawn sleepily.

            “I’m not. My wish list was very short. All I wanted was you.” He says.

            “Consider me signed sealed and delivered then.” I glance down at the thin gold band on my finger. “Sometimes it’s true, love does conquer all.”

            We’re both so drunk on love; Angel never sees the car run the red light.

Chapter Eighteen

-Buffy-

            Pain wakes me up. There are bright lights shining in my eyes and I put a hand up to shield them. I’m lying in the floor of Angel’s Audi. Angel, oh God, I push myself up into the passenger seat. He’s sitting there behind the wheel of the car. I lay a hand on his right shoulder. I can see the left side of his face is covered in blood.  Oh, God take deep breaths, Buffy. He needs you. This is not the time to panic.

            “Angel, baby, can you hear me?” Tears are fighting against me. I can’t break down, not now. I try to will the Slayer in me to take over. This is a battle the Slayer is as helpless to fight as Buffy is. She loves him too.

            Angel’s head lolls over to the right side. I can see the blood is from a gash above his temple. It definitely looks like it could use stitches.

            “Buffy,” his voice is a threadbare whisper when it finally comes.

            “I’m here, Angel. I’m right here. Listen the ambulance is here. They’re gonna get us out.”

            He blinks at me in something that resembles a nod. A paramedic is speaking to me through the window.

            “Miss, are you alright?” He asks.

            “I’m fine. He’s not. You’ve got to get him out of here.” I say.

            “We’re working on it. The doors won’t open.” The paramedic says.

            “Get back.” I tell him. He doesn’t listen. It doesn’t matter. If they can’t get Angel out of here, I’m getting him out. I lean back and brace my boots against the window. I pull my knees to my chest and kick. The window shatters. The paramedic gapes at me. I wiggle out of the passenger side window, heedless of the shards of glass that slice my skin.

            “Miss, you just can’t do that.” The paramedic says weakly. I give him slayer-eyes and stalk over to Angel’s side of the car. My knees go weak looking at it. I retch, falling to my hands and knees on the asphalt. There is nothing about the twisted hunk of metal that resembles a car. I register that there is another twisted hunk of metal not far from the Audi, but I don’t pause over it. I take a deep, shaky breath and gather my nerves about me. Angel is in that car and while the cops screw around getting the Jaws of Life, or whatever, Angel could be dy-getting more hurt.

            I walk to the car. A police man grabs me by the arm. I shrug him off. The driver’s side window is a huge star burst. There’s a smear of blood in the center of it, Angel’s blood. The edge of the car door is peeled out, because the center of the car door has been viciously shoved inward, toward Angel, my Angel.

            “Miss, you’ve got to get back, you could cut yourself-“A hand lands on my shoulder. I shrug it off. I curl my fingers around the edge of the door.

            “Miss, you can’t. We’re going to cut the door away. We’ve just got to get the equipment here.”

            Another hand on my shoulder, I shrug. It doesn’t move. I turn around and glare at the policeman. It’s a glare that sends vampires, demons and other denizens of hell running. The policeman doesn’t have a chance. He backs off a couple of steps. The metal cuts into my fingers as I pull. I lay my forehead against the sunburst glass and weep. Angel’s entire left side is covered in blood. I wish Spike were here, or anyone with superhero strength besides just me. I wrap my fingers around the metal again. I lean back into it and pull. I hear the creak and squeal of metal as it struggles with me. I can hear the whispers behind me. I don’t care. This is Angel.

            At some point I guess all the big strong police officers decide to help the poor little blond girl. It takes me and two big men to pry the door open. I fall to my knees on the pavement. I can feel the glass biting into my knees. I’m glad. It keeps me grounded, keeps me from completely losing it because Angel is hurt. He keeps coming in and out of consciousness. I’ve seen a few wounds in my time so I feel like I can make a fair assessment of Angel’s more superficial wounds. His left arm is broken. Some part of the door has gouged into his side but I don’t think any internal organs were hit, at least not important ones, not enough blood.

            The only time I move away from him are when the medics get him out of the car. He’s strapped to a back board with an IV in his arm and he looks so pale and so fragile. His eyes flicker to me and I smile as big as I possibly can through my tears. I follow the medics to the ambulance.

            “I’m going with him.” I say. My tone leaves no room for discussion.

            The medic looks at me a moment and then nods.  I sit on Angel’s right side in the ambulance. I hold his hand and run my fingers over his face. I talk to him and promise him things are going to be okay. I never stop smiling at him. He doesn’t say anything to me, just looks at me with bottomless brown eyes, the pain in them so evident.

            Once we get to the hospital Angel is rushed into a room filled with doctors and nurses. Several nurses flutter their hands over me asking if I need to be checked out, am I okay, why don’t I sit down and a doctor will be right with me. I shove the clinging hands away and intently watch in the direction they took Angel. Eventually I guess they get the point that I’m okay and I’m not interested in having a doctor tell me that. Someone slips a clipboard with papers on it in my hands.

            “Are you family?” The nurse asks.

            “I’m his wife.” I say without pause.

            The nurse nods. “You’ll need to fill those out.”

            I nod and sit down beside the courtesy phone in the emergency room. I struggle to catch my breath. I can’t do this alone. I need Giles. I pick up the phone and dial his number. He sounds sleepy when he finally answers.

            “Giles, I’m sorry to wake you up.” I say my voice cracking.

            “Buffy, Good Heavens, what’s the matter?” He asks, instantly awake.

            “On the way home, a car, there was a wreck-“The tears I’ve been holding back since I woke up over take me. I can’t finish.

            “I’m on my way.” He hangs up the phone.

            I take several deep breaths and dab at my tears with tissue. I try to focus on the papers in front of me. Name, I fill in Angel Summers without pause. I can’t think.  I’m beyond relieved when Giles gets there. He’s rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed.

            “Buffy, are you alright?” He franticly runs his hands over my arms and shoulders. He pushes the hair back from my face.

            “I’m fine, Giles.” I say.

            He captures me in a hug and finally I can let go of all the tears. We sit down together on a sofa and Giles lets me cry out all my fears.

            “My dear, dear girl.” He whispers and strokes my hair.

            After a few minutes I get control of myself again. I wipe at my eyes.

            “Why don’t you go wash your face and clean up a bit? I’ll finish filling out the papers for you. I imagine I can come up with information as well as you can.” Giles says.

            “They think-I told them he’s my husband.” I say standing up.

            Giles nod. “He is.”

            Everything seems to move in slow motion as I walk to the bathroom. I look in the mirror and I realize why Giles thought I was injured, why the nurses thought I was injured. I am ghost pale. My left eye is black. There is a cut on my left cheekbone. I am covered in blood, Angel’s blood. My new white sweater is splashed brown with it. I swallow thickly. I turn the water on and watch it run over my hands. The water turns pink with Angel’s blood and I snatch my hands out from under the flow before it all washes away, down the drain. Irrational, I know, but for some reason it feels like if I keep his blood on my hands, on my clothes, my face, I keep him. I take a deep breath. I can’t go back out there looking like this. I put my hands back under the cold water and splash my face with it. I keep my eyes closed until I’m certain the water in the sink has run clear. I pull my hair off my neck and lean back against the cool tile wall. I take a deep breath of antiseptic hospital smell and try not to retch. I open the door and walk back out into the quiet emergency room. Giles is sitting on the sofa. He has a cup of coffee in his hand.

            I sit down beside him.

            “I turned the forms in for you.” He says.

            I look at him with wide eyes, panic rises in my voice. “No, Giles. You can’t. I don’t know his birthday. I didn’t know how old to make him. I don’t know-I don’t know.” The tears rise to my eyes and I blink furiously to get rid of them.

            “Its okay, Buffy. I made his birthday September 24 1983. Angel was 26 when he was turned.” Giles says in a calm reasonable tone.

            I nod. “Thank you. I’m older then him. Did you know that? I’m older then Angel.”

            “I know. It’s okay.” Giles says. “I called Willow. I thought you might like her here. She’s going to bring you some fresh clothing. You’re quite sure you’re alright? You don’t need to see a doctor?”

            I shake my head. “I’ll be bruised and sore tomorrow, nothing nifty slayer healing won’t take care of.” My voice breaks and I bite my bottom lip, drawing blood, to keep from breaking down again. “He has to heal with regular human healing, Giles.” The tears spill over and run down my cheeks.

            “I know.”

            Willow shows up a bit later. She brings me a heavy blue sweater and a pair of jeans. I thank her silently and go to the bathroom to change. I am reluctant to take off my Angel blood-stained sweater. I’m afraid I’ll scare him when he finally wakes up though.  I slip into the clean clothes, carefully folding my bloody sweater and pants up. I walk back into the emergency room. Willow hands me a plastic bag for my clothes. I slip them inside and sit down on the sofa, bracketed by Giles and Willow. They are holding me up from both sides.

            It is hours before a doctor comes out to give us any information.

            “Mrs. Summers, I’m Doctor Fulton, I’ve been taking care of your husband.”

            I see Willow’s eyebrows shoot up at the word husband. Giles just nods at her.

            “His left arm is broken in two places. We’ve set it and put a cast on it. He received 23 stitches in his forehead and 48 in his left side. There was no internal bleeding. The real worry right now is his spinal cord. There’s severe swelling and we’re unable to tell if there is any nerve damage or not.” The doctor says.

            “What does that mean?” I ask.

            “Right now, we don’t know. It could mean nothing at all. If there is nerve damage, it could mean a spinal cord injury in which case we’d be dealing with possible paralysis. But again, we won’t know that for several days when the swelling goes down.”

            I nod. I can’t say anything or I would. Right now it’s taking everything in me to just remain upright and breathing.

            “He’s still unconscious but he should be waking up pretty soon, if you’d like to go sit with him.”

            “Thank you.” I whisper.

            Dr. Fulton gives us directions to Angel’s room. Willow and Giles hold my hands, walking on each side of me, lending me strength. I’m not prepared for what I see. Angel is lying in bed and he’s so small. His skin has taken on a gray pallor. The stark white cast on his arm only brings it to attention. He has tubes going and out of his body and he’s hooked up to a variety of machines. I choke out a sob and cover my mouth with my hand. Giles catches me when my knees buckle underneath me. He guides me to a chair next to Angel’s bed.

            I take Angel’s hand in mine and slide to my knees beside him. I bite my bottom lip and rest my forehead on his hand. I’ve never really prayed much; even after all I’ve seen and done. I start praying now.

Chapter Nineteen

            A/N I apologize in advance for my ignorance on paralysis. I really did try to research this stuff but it made me go cross eyed, so I’m going to do the best of I can with what I read/know.

-Angel-

            I struggle against the heavy weight holding me down. I know she’s here, somewhere. I can feel her in the pit of my stomach, my heart of hearts, whatever you want to call it. I just can’t get to her. She’s crying. I can hear her. It drives me crazy. I struggle harder. The only thought I have is to make her tears stop. I try to squeeze her hand, but it doesn’t work. I concentrate harder and squeeze again. This time I feel her little hand squeeze mine back. She’s talking to me. Her words sound far away. I concentrate on her voice and push back the weight pulling me under. I open my eyes, slowly at first. She’s kneeling beside the bed.

            “Buffy,” I try my voice out and it doesn’t work as well as I had thought it would. Her name sounds more like a rough exhalation then a word. She stands up and bends over me.

            “Angel, Angel, you’re awake. Oh, God, you’re awake. Don’t go back to sleep. I’m just going to yell at Giles to get the doctor.” She steps to the door way and literally yells at Giles to get a doctor. I’d smile at that if it didn’t hurt so much. I can imagine the nurses don’t take kindly to her yelling in a hospital. She’s back at my side instantly.

            “Are you okay?” I ask

            She smiles at me and I feel some of the pain slip away. “I’m better now. You had me worried.” Her voice is strained.

            ‘Sorry,” I say. I close my eyes. I’m exhausted again.

            “Angel, the doctor is on his way. Can you stay awake for him?” she says.

            I shake my head very slightly, not opening my eyes.

            “Angel, for me.” I can hear the tears in her voice.

            I open my eyes slowly and look at her. For her, I can do anything.

            *

            I’ve been here a week. I know because I asked Buffy. Giles eventually got a hold of Wesley. He’s going to be here sometime today. They moved me into a large private suite in the hospital a few days ago. There’s even a bed for Buffy to sleep in. She hasn’t left my side since I woke up. Giles and Willow have been there almost as much. I have had a battery of tests run in the past two days. They won’t give me any definitive answers on anything.

            Buffy is sitting on the bed next to me. We’re watching some pointless game show on TV and waiting for the doctor to come tell us about my latest tests.  Buffy is snuggled up into my chest. My arm is around her shoulders. Her hand is on my thigh, and I can’t feel it, at all. I swallow and tear my eyes away from her hand. I lean my head back and close my eyes. Buffy presses a kiss to my neck, which thankfully I can feel.

            I try to quell my nerves about not being able to feel my legs or my feet. When the doctor gets here, he’ll give us a more through report on what it means, if anything.  The door opens and Buffy and I both turn toward the door. Dr. Fultan walks in. He smiles at us and pulls a chair up next to the bed.

            “I’ve gone over your tests, Angel and I’ve got some news.  The nerve damage is in what we call the S1-5 section of the spinal cord, your lower back.  Unfortunately there’s not much we can do for it. This is something the body has to take care of and heal itself. After you’ve had some time to heal we’ll get you into some physical therapy. Right now, we wait.” The doctor says.

            “Am I going to get feeling back in my legs? Am I going to be able to walk?” I ask.

            “Again, we don’t know. We just have to wait. There’s a window of time, a week to six months, for spontaneous recovery, after that, things are probably as good as they are going to get.”

            “What does that mean? As good as it’s going to get?” Buffy asked.

            “We don’t know.” Dr. Fultan said.

-Buffy-

            I lean back wearily against the elevator and close my eyes. Just when I didn’t think life could throw anything harder at me, it managed a curve ball like this. The elevator doors open and I step out. I’m beyond tired. I’m soul weary. I want to rage and scream at the Powers for doing this to us. It’s not fair. They give us everything we’ve ever wanted and then they do something like this. Angel, my Angel may never walk again.

            There’s a crash and I hear yelling. I start running up the hall to Angel’s room just as a bed pan is thrown out in the hallway.

            “If I need to piss I can drag my own fucking ass there! I don’t need a nurse bringing some fucking pan.” Angel growls at the top of his lungs. He manages a pretty scary growl. Angelus would be proud.

            I apologize to the nurse coming out of Angel’s room crying. I walk in.

            “Angel, honey, you can’t do things like that. You made her cry.”

            “I don’t fucking care. She wants me to piss in some damn bowl, like I’m a fucking invalid.” Angel is still screaming at the top of his lungs.

            I bite my lips. “Okay. So how do you want to do this? I can help you to the bathroom.”

            “Buffy, I am not going to pee with you holding me up.” He lowers his voice but maintains the growly quality to it.

            “Then what do you suggest, Angel? You want them to put the catheter back in?”

            “No,” he growls.

            The bathroom is made for handicapped people. The toilet is surrounded by a brushed steel railing. An idea begins to form. “Okay, suggestion. If I help you into the bathroom, do you think you can support yourself on the rail around the toilet long enough?”

            He nods. He keeps his eyes on the floor. He refuses to look me in the eye. Dark and glowery doesn’t even begin to describe the expression on his face. I lower the railing on the side of his bed and drape his right arm over my shoulders. I wrap my arm around his waist. He uses his left arm to help me scoot him off the edge of the bed.

            “Okay, ready?” I ask.

            He nods.

            I lift Angel off the bed, thankful for slayer strength of my thighs of steel video. Angel is heavy.  The tears rush to my eyes. His legs are useless. He can’t support any weight on them. He can’t even make them stay underneath him.

            “Just put me back in bed, Buffy. Call the nurse and tell her I’m sorry.” He looks out the window, refusing to meet my eyes.

            “Angel-“I start.

            “I don’t want to discuss it, Buffy. Put me back in bed.” His voice is cold and hard. It’s a voice I have rarely ever heard.

            I do as he asks. I tuck a blanket around his legs. He looks so defeated and so hopeless. It makes me feel useless. I want to scream and rage at the world around me. I want to make this better and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

            “Buffy, go.” He says.

            “Go? Where?” I say looking at him with disbelief.

            “I don’t know. Go back to the apartment, Willow’s, Giles’, the magic shop, anywhere. Just go. I want to be alone.” He says.

            “Angel, I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here with you.” I reach out a hand to touch his face. He slaps it away.

            “Get the Hell away from me.” He snarls.

            “Angel, I don’t know what your trauma is, but you need to get over it.” I say.

            “My ‘trauma’ is you. Get the fuck out of my sight right now.” He growls.

            I stare at him. Tears fill my eyes. I turn and run out of the room as fast as I can. I take the stairs. I don’t stop running until I’m at his apartment. I fumble with my keys. I can’t find the right one. I’m crying too hard. Finally the right key slides in the lock and I retreat to the sanctuary of Angel’s bedroom. I lay on the bed sobbing.  This is a nightmare. I’m going to wake up any minute now and it will all be a nightmare.

Chapter Twenty

-Angel-

            I’ve growled at every nurse that has been in here since last night. Finally they are beginning to get the idea that I want to be left the hell alone. I have the shades on the windows drawn, the TV is off. I’m brooding. I’m damn good at it too. I should be. I’ve had a century or so to practice.  The door to my room opens and I glare at it, ready to skewer the person coming through there.

            “I thought maybe you needed something in here to brighten up your room.” Buffy walks in holding a green plant, looking at cheerful as humanly possible. I want to pick her up and throw her out of the room; only I can’t because I can’t stand much less walk.

            I growl. She sets the plant on the windowsill and jerks open the blinds. The room is flooded with bright sunlight.

            I squint my eyes and throw up my arm in defense. “I wanted those shut.”

            “And I want them open. It’s entirely to dark and depressing in here.” Buffy gestures to the plant. “Besides, plants need light. That is lucky bamboo. I figured it couldn’t hurt and it’d be nice to have something green in here.”

            “Buffy, I don’t want something green in here. I want it dark, I want it quiet and I want to be left alone.” I yell.

            “Angel, you might be able to scare every nurse in here. You might even be able to scare the doctors. You can’t scare me, so cut the bullshit, quit yelling at me and deal with my being here.” Buffy gives me slayer eyes.

            “What if I don’t want you here?” I snarl at her.

            “Then you’re going to have to get off your ass and throw me out because I’m not moving.” She crosses her arms over her chest and juts out one hip.

            “That’s not fair. You know I can’t even fucking stand up!” I scream.

            “Then you’re going to have to live with me being in your face every day until you can.” Buffy says. She sits down in a chair next to the bed and turns on the TV.

            “Bitch,” I mutter.

            She ignores me. An orderly brings me a tray of rubbery looking eggs, some plastic bacon, triangles of cardboard toast and a cup of fruit.

            “I don’t want to eat.” I growl.

            “Sorry, Sir, I have orders to leave the tray with you.” The orderly pulls the bedside table out and places the tray on it.

            “I told you, I don’t want to eat.” I pick the tray up and throw it at the orderly. She runs out of the room crying. Buffy calmly watches some stupid talk show while all this goes on. She doesn’t even comment on my outburst.

            The physical therapist comes in shortly after a different orderly cleans up the mess I made. He’s a big man, probably in his early thirties.  He looks like he was probably a line backer in college. His red hair is shorn almost to his head. He has a wide open smile and that alone pisses me off because he’s entirely too happy.

            “Morning, Angel. I’m Patrick, your physical therapist.” He holds out his hand for me to shake.

            “I don’t care who the fuck you are. Get out of my room.” I growl and pointedly ignore his hand.

            Buffy stands up and walks over to us. “Don’t mind him. He’s a little grumpy. I’m Buffy, Angel’s wife.” She sticks her hand out and shakes his.

            I growl deep in my chest. She doesn’t have to be so fucking friendly to him.  He’ll end up making a pass at her and I can’t even fucking defend her! This is just great, he’s going to try and have an affair with my wife and I can’t do a damn thing about it.

            “Get the hell out of my room away from my wife!” I yell.

            Buffy shoots me a withering glare. I ignore it. If she can ignore my outbursts I can ignore her bitchy behavior.

            “You’ve got an hour of physical therapy with me down in the physical therapy room. So let’s get started.” Patrick parks a wheelchair next to my bed. He leans over to help me out of bed and into the wheelchair.

            “I can do it.” I snarl.

            He steps back and lets me fumble and curse until I manage to more or less fall into the wheel chair. I’ll probably have a bruise on my right hip, fucking fragile human bodies. I curse under my breath as Patrick wheels me out of the room.

-Buffy-

            I hold my breath, waiting until Angel is far enough down the hall that he can’t hear me. Once I’m certain they’ve had enough time to get to the elevators, I let the breath out with a whoosh. The sobs come with it. I lie down in the middle of Angel’s bed and sob.  I don’t want to treat him like this. I want to coddle him and baby him and take care of him. He won’t let me.  He can push me away all he wants though, I’m not leaving him. I’m not going to let him go through this alone. No one should have to do that. I get a hold of myself and look at the clock. I’ve still got forty minutes until Patrick brings Angel back to his room. I pick up the in room phone and call Willow.

            As soon as she answers the phone, I lose it again. “Oh, God, Will. I don’t think I can do this. He’s so angry.” I sob.

            “That’s normal, Buffy. It’s the third stage of grief.” Willow says.

            “He totally blew past the first and second stage, Will. He likes this stage a lot.” I say.

            “Yeah, he’s used to fighting his battles. He wants something to hit and there’s nothing.  He may be angry for a really long time. Hopefully he can use the anger and make it benefit him.” Willow says.

            “Yeah, if he doesn’t kill his physical therapist for smiling at me.” I mutter.

            “That bad, huh?” Willow asks.

            “It really is.” I say with a sigh.

            “Well, look at it this way. The physical therapist can run away.” Willow offers.

            *

            Angel returns looking very tired.  He’s quiet and sullen. He actually lets Patrick help him into the bed. I walk over and perch myself on the edge of the bed. I take Angel’s hand in mine. He doesn’t pull away from me, but he doesn’t encourage me either.

            “How did it go?” I ask.

            “He did really well. He doesn’t think so, but for his first time, it was good. I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow. It’s not going to happen over night, but if we keep working we’ll see progress.” Patrick says.

            “Thank you for not killing him.” I say sweetly.

            Patrick chuckles. “Most people have to warm up to me. I’ll see you tomorrow Angel, Mrs. Summers.” Patrick nodded and walked out of the room.

            “You sure you don’t want to go with him and see if he needs a dinner date?” Angel grumbles. He still sounds tired. He’s just trying not to show it.

            “Nope, I have a dinner date right here.” I say.

            Angel just grumbles and closes his eyes. He still hasn’t pulled his hand away so I snuggle up next to his right side. I lay my head on his shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist. Almost reluctantly, like he’s not over being mad at me, he puts his arm around me. Soon he has me cuddled up to him and his face is buried in the crown of my head. I’m tired. I didn’t sleep much the night before. I close my eyes and drift off to the sound of his heart beat.

-Angel-

            I’ve been paralyzed for a month now. I’ve been going to physical therapy for three weeks. I don’t think it’s getting any better. Patrick, the asshole, does. I think he’s just afraid he’ll lose his fucking job if he doesn’t act like I’m making progress. Progress my ass; I can’t even feel the fucking pins the doctor sticks in my toes twice a week, and to make things even better they are sending me home today.

            Buffy acts like it’s a huge deal.  Where does it really matter where I am? It’s not like I could walk around and enjoy the view or anything.  She’s bustling around the room right now, gathering things up and talking a mile a minute acting like she’s so happy that I’m going home.

            “Buffy, you don’t have to go back to the apartment with me. The asshole gave me a whole list of nurses I could hire to take care of me.” She knows The asshole is my name for Patrick.

            “I know I don’t have to, Angel. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” She says.

            “Yeah right, like you want to be stuck in an apartment with a fucking cripple.” I growl. “You need to be with someone who can-“

            “So help me God if you utter the words into the light I will slap the holy shit out of you.” Buffy says turning her slayer eyes back on me.

            “It’s true, Buffy. Hell, the doctor doesn’t even know if I can get a fucking erection! Did you know that? Did you know I might have problems getting it up? Oh I can take Viagra, that will probably help he says. I have the fucking body of a 27 year old man and I might have to take Viagra! Isn’t that exciting? Is that how you want to spend the rest of your life?” I yell at her.

            Buffy pulls her mouth into a straight line, tucking her lips between her teeth.  Her eyes jump with anger. She’s trying really hard not to beat the shit out of me. When she finally speaks her voice is very tight, very controlled. “Angel, I want my life to be with you. I don’t care about what you can’t do or can’t give me because what I get from lying in your arms, listening to your heart beat is more then anyone has ever been able to give me. I spent a long time trying to get over you. Hell sometimes I think I’ve spent my entire life trying to get over you. I’m never getting over you. It is never over between us. It never will be.  I love you and we’re going to deal with this together, for the rest of our lives.”

            When she gets like this I know it’s pointless to argue with her. I’m not talking to Buffy, I’m talking to the Slayer and I might as well be talking to a fortress for all the good it will do me. I don’t say anything. I just turn my head and look out the window. It’s a cold gray day; at least it suits my mood.

            Dr. Fultan walks in the room. He’s got a clipboard full of papers Buffy and I will have to sign.

            “Are you ready to go home, Mr. Summers?” Dr. Fultan asks.

            “Does it matter?” I respond.

            The doctor clears his throat and smiles at Buffy. I think he’s still pissed at the clipboard I threw at him last week. I hit him too. I would have hit his forehead but he’s pretty quick and threw his forearm up to block it.

            “Mrs. Summers, I think we’ve gone over most of the information already but I just want to go over a couple more things. There should be a prescription of muscle relaxers down in the pharmacy for Angel if he gets muscle spasms. He has to be here for therapy every day. Patrick has discussed that with you, I’m sure. Also I wanted to make sure you had hired a part time nurse at least to help you.”

            “No, I’ll be taking care of Angel myself.” Buffy says.

            “Mrs. Summers, I think your underestimating the amount of care Angel is going to need.  He’s a big man, there’s no way you can possibly take care of him yourself.” Dr. Fultan says.

            Buffy smiles sweetly at him. Sometimes I forget that other people perceive her for exactly what she looks like, a tiny, fragile blond. “I’m stronger then I look.” She says.

            The doctor shakes his head and looks down at the papers on his clipboard. “Alright, but if you need someone, I’ve included a list of excellent care service providers with your paperwork. I’m sure they can make someone available immediately should you change your mind.” The doctor hands me the clipboard and his pen. “Angel, if you’ll just sign there where I’ve put the x’s.”

            I growl and start signing. My signature is more of a scrawl then anything. I actually do sign it Angel Summers, because I like the idea of playing house with Buffy while it lasts. I hand the clipboard back to him when I’m done.

            “Alright, you are free to go then. I know you bought a wheel chair, someone should be bringing it up here shortly and I will see you in a week.” He smiles and leaves without waiting for any response from us. Buffy shuts the door behind him. She gets my clothes out of the cheap armoire in the room.  I surrender to the humiliation of having her dress me, because really my other choice is to have The Asshole help me.

            An orderly, a new one since I think I’ve thrown something or yelled at all the others, brings the wheelchair in.  He parks it next to the bed and puts on the brake. Buffy stands close but she doesn’t crowd me. I’m still a little awkward due to my broken left arm, the cast comes off in a couple of weeks, but I can now manage to get into the wheelchair with some semblance of grace.  

            The orderly pushes me through the hospital to the front entrance where Willow is waiting with Oz’s van.  Buffy follows behind us carrying my lucky bamboo and some other crap I somehow accumulated while I was there. Why the fuck does anyone think people in the hospital need balloons and flowers and plants and every other sort of crap they can clutter up a room with? The orderly parks the wheelchair in front of the van. Buffy hands the plants and other crap to Willow. She and the orderly put me in the van. I have never been so fucking humiliated in my life. I’m worse then an infant, at least they look cute.

            I sit in the back and grumble and growl while Willow and Buffy try to cheer me up. I don’t want to be cheered up. This is worse then when Cordy used to try to pull me out of brood mode.   They are both chattering up in the front seat like this is some cause for celebration. I scowl and stare out the window.

            Willow parks the van and I sit by and wait while Buffy gets the wheelchair out.  With her help, a lot of her help, I manage to get into the wheelchair without mishap. The doorman greets us like he sees me in a wheelchair everyday. Buffy must have warned him a head of time. Why the hell couldn’t they lock me in some dark basement and just leave me the hell alone? 

            We get to the apartment and I’m half afraid Buffy has planned some sort of welcome home party. I really can’t handle people right now, certainly not people pretending to be happy. I’m thankful when the apartment is cool, quiet and empty. Buffy tells Willow goodbye and thanks for all her help. I grunt something that might pass as a thanks. Buffy shuts and locks the door behind Willow and turns to me.

            “So what now?”

            That’s the 64 million dollar question isn’t it?

Chapter Twenty-One

-Buffy-

            I wake up tired. I don’t think there is ever a time when I’m not tired.  I drag myself into the kitchen and start the coffee maker. I go jump in the shower while the coffee is percolating and let the steaming water wake me up. I get out of the shower and towel dry off. I throw on a pair of sweats and a tank top. I twine my damp hair up into a severe bun and go to wake up Angel.  I lay down next to Angel, stretching my body out the entire length of his.  I kiss his lips softly. He responds sleepily, pulling at my lips with his. His arms come up around me and fold me into him.  I sigh into our kiss and tangle my fingers in his hair.

            This is my favorite part of the day. There’s always a few minutes here before Angel completely wakes up. In those few minutes he kisses me like he always has, like he’ll die if his lips aren’t on mine. Then he wakes up completely, remembers our situation and turns grumpy. He doesn’t even want to try to make love. He’s afraid he won’t be able to and somehow he thinks that would matter to me. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with the man when a moment of pure happiness turned him into a monster, but for some reason the idea that I’d spend the rest of my life with him despite the fact we still can’t have sex never occurs to him.

            He pulls away from me. I know he’s awake now. I hold onto him for a few seconds, just so he knows I’m not the one letting go.

            “Good morning.” I say.

            He growls. “What’s so good about it?”

            “I got to wake up with you.” I say. “Now come on. I stayed in the shower to long today. We’re running late.”

            Now that his cast is off, Angel’s natural predatory grace has returned, granted it’s limited to his upper body. I park his wheelchair next to the bed. He fluidly levers himself into the chair.

            “Do you want a bagel?” I ask.

            “Sure, strawberry cream cheese please.” He says.

            He’s not as angry as he once was. He’s not happy either. He rolls toward the bathroom. He’s far more self sufficient then he used to be. We have a bench in the shower now and he’s able to get in and out of it with relative ease.  I sit at the table and drink my coffee, an ear always tuned to listen for Angel. I hear the shower turn off and I walk into our bedroom. He has the bathroom door open and steam is rolling out. I lounge against the door frame watching him with a smile. He’s got a towel over his lap and he’s still damp from the shower.  He still shaves by touch.  Tears rush to my eyes.

            “God, you’re beautiful.” I whisper.

            He looks up at me and for one second forgets to scowl. Then his hand bumps against the arm of his wheelchair and the moment is ruined. I sigh as the scowl comes over his beautiful features and turn to go finish my coffee.

            “Buffy, wait.” He says.

            I stop and turn back around to him.

            “I’m sorry.” He says.

            “Angel, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

            “I do. I’ve made your life a freak show again.” He says.

            “No, Angel, you’ve made my life beautiful again.” I walk over to him and sit down on his lap. I cup his cheek with my hand. “There is no place here or in Heaven I’d rather be then where I am right now.”

            He stares intently into my eyes and tears fill his. “You’re happy.”

            “You make me happy, just being here with you like this.” I say.

            He nods. “Your eyes are green.”

-Angel-

            My life is…surprisingly not as bad as I thought it would be. Yes I wish I could walk. I wish I could make love to Buffy. I wish I could pick her up and carry her across the threshold. I can’t. But I do get to fall asleep with her in my arms every night and every morning she wakes me up with a kiss. Things could be worse, things have been worse.  I guess this is the stage of my “recovery” as The Asshole says where I start to be grateful for what I do have.

            The only real progress I can see is that my upper body strength is increasing. I am more self sufficient. There’s very little I have to have Buffy help me with anymore. I’m getting close to the two month mark of my paralysis and I’m afraid this is it. I’m afraid for the rest of my life I will be in this chair. I scrub my hand through my hair and look in the mirror. I don’t know who I am. I was always a champion for the Powers, or the vampire with a soul, or the scourge of Europe. Now I’m just a guy in a wheelchair who doesn’t do anything.  It’s a long way to fall from champion to nobody.

            Buffy interrupts my brooding by twining her arms around me from behind. I reach up and take her hand in mine. I kiss her knuckles.  I love her hands. You can look at Buffy’s hands and tell volumes about her. They are tiny delicate looking hands but if you look closer you’ll see the callous on her palm from countless weapons. Her hands have surprising strength in them, just like Buffy has surprising strength in her.

            “Quarter for your thoughts.” She says.

            “Wow, inflation. In my time they only cost you a pence.” I say with a half smile.

            She walks around and sits down on my lap. “They looked like pretty deep thoughts. I figured they were worth at least a quarter. So you gonna tell me?”

            “Nothing important, just generic brooding.” I say.

            “Willow and Oz invited us on a double date. We could go to the movies.” She says.

            I sigh. Buffy and I haven’t been out of the apartment except for therapy since the accident. “You should go.”

            “Angel, I don’t want to go without you.” She says.

            “Buffy, I don’t want to spend an entire night with everyone staring at me wondering what the hell a gorgeous girl like you is doing with a cripple.” I say.

            She rolls her eyes. “Actually the girls will be wondering how I got a guy like you. Angel, come on, this isn’t about anyone else. This is about you and me going out with our friends. It doesn’t bother me, or Willow or Oz. Why should anyone else matter?”

            “Because it does. You’re not the one being stared at.” I say sullenly.

            “Hello, blew up my high school. You don’t think I’ve never been stared at before?” She says.

            I sigh. “Buffy,”

            “Angel, you can’t hide away in this apartment for the next four months. Part of recovering is actually getting out there and living your life.” She says.

            I grumble. “Alright, if you really want to go, I’ll go.”

            It’s almost worth it to hear her squeal with delight. She throws her arms around me and kisses me with complete abandon. I wrap one arm around her, crushing her to me. I tangle my fingers in her hair. She moans softly and it causes me to growl low in my throat.  She smiles against my mouth and dips her head. She places a kiss on the pulse at my neck. She knows this drives me crazy. She nips at my neck with her teeth. I close my eyes and enjoy the feel and smell of her. This is the closest I’ve let her get since the accident, at least while I’ve been completely awake.

            She runs her little tongue up my throat and brings her lips back to mine. She purrs against my mouth.

            “Mmm, missed this.” She says breathlessly.

            I swallow. “Me too.”

            I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers, the tips of our noses touching, our lips only a breath apart. It feels good to be like this with her.   I realize with a thrill that my body is responding to her, somewhat. That’s an improvement from where I was a month ago. I open my eyes and grin at her.

            “If we’re going to the movies you better call Willow and go get ready.” I say.

            She smiles easily at me. “Okay, I won’t be long.”

            Buffy comes back into the living room wearing a pair of tight faded jeans and a white sweater.  From this vantage point it’s easy to notice her ass was made for tight jeans. I smile to myself. I realize I feel almost the way I did when I lived in Sunnydale, like a hormone driven seventeen year old boy. Leave it to Buffy to make me feel alive again. The only time I ever really felt alive was around her.

            *

            Dinner and the movie aren’t as bad as I thought it would be. Yes people stare at me and I can often see pity in some of their eyes. I stare right back at them. I’ve had centuries to master an intimidating stare. They always look away first.  Buffy walks along just behind me, her hand on my shoulder. The Asshole has drilled into her that she doesn’t need to push me. It’s good for me to roll myself along. She ignores the stares that are directed our way. My mood fluctuates throughout the evening. I swing from being pissed at the world and feeling almost normal.

            The nicest part of the movie, some suspense thriller, is when Buffy slides out of her seat and into my lap. She claims she’s scared. She’s a slayer. I really doubt a movie is going to scare her. It’s kind of nice, knowing that the reason she’s in my lap has nothing to do with being scared. Everyone looks at us as I wheel us both out of the movie theater. For once, I don’t care. It occurs to me that the group of guys staring at us could possibly be thinking lucky bastard instead of what’s she doing with him?

            *

            I watch her through the window. It’s still one of my favorite activities. She’s wearing a slip of a mint green dress and dancing with the waves. She catches me watching and beckons me outside.  I smile at her and stand up. I walk outside. She meets me half way, lacing her fingers with mine.

            I wake up with a start. It takes me a minute to identify what woke me. It was my foot. My foot moved. I was dreaming about walking toward Buffy and my foot moved. I glance down at Buffy. She’s snoring softly, snuggled up next to me, her head buried in my shoulder.  I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and concentrate on moving my foot. It takes a moment, the reflexes are sorely lacking, but I can make my foot move, not very far, just a half an inch or so.

            I lie in bed the rest of the night grinning up at the ceiling like an idiot. I can’t wait until Buffy wakes up in the morning so I can tell her.

-Buffy-

            I wake up slowly and realize I’m smiling.  I hope Angel and I are on our way to a real life together, one that doesn’t involve one of us leaving every few months. I stretch and yawn. I walk into the kitchen to put the coffee on.  I’ll let Angel sleep late this morning since he doesn’t have physical therapy on Saturdays. I stand under the hot stream for a long time, letting it wake me up. I get out and wrap myself in a robe. I leave my wet hair trailing down my back. I take a deep breath. I love the smell of coffee. I pad barefoot into the kitchen. I am surprised to see Angel already awake sitting at the kitchen table. He has a bagel and a cup of coffee sitting out for me. I smile at him. He looks like a sleep rumpled little boy somehow.

            “Morning. You’re up early.” I say.

            He smiles at me. I realize it’s a smile that actually reaches his eyes. I draw in a sharp intake of breath. I’d almost forgotten how his eyes twinkle when he lets the smile actually reach them.

            “You should do that more often.” I say.

            “Make you coffee and bagels?” He asks.

            “No, smile a real smile.” I answer.

            He does it again. “I’ll try.”

            “Not that I’m complaining, because no complaining here, but what’s the occasion?” I gesture to the coffee and bagel in front of me.

            “I’m in love with a beautiful woman who’s in love with me, and I moved my foot last night.” He says nonchalantly.

            It takes me a minute to process the information. My mouth falls open and I swear my jaw hits the table.

            “Oh my God! Angel, you waited all this time to tell me!” I jump up from the table and throw myself into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on as tight as I can.

            “Buffy, breathing becoming an issue here.” He croaks.

            “Oh! Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I’m just excited. Angel, wow that’s wonderful. I mean that’s a start right? Maybe we should call the doctor and see if he can get you in or we could call Patrick and let him know. He might want to see you.”

            “Buffy, slow down. It wasn’t much. I moved it maybe an inch and I had to concentrate to do it. It could have even been a muscle spasm. There’s no need to tell the world, moving my foot is a long way from actually walking. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” He says.

            I stare at him. How can he do a 180 like that? “Ok, you were excited like a minute ago now you’re Mr. Cautious?”

            “I just don’t want you to pin all your hopes on my walking again.” He says.

            “Angel, I don’t get you. You were excited about this, until I got excited then all the sudden you’re all back to dark, broody and grumpy. So it’s okay for you to be excited about it but I don’t get to be? Don’t you think I want this for you as much as you do?”

            “Oh, you want it for me?” He says. “I guess it doesn’t have anything to do with wanting a boyfriend who can walk.”

            “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I snap back.

            “You know what it means. I saw a whole group of guys ogling you last night. They all seemed to be able to walk just fine. I’m sure any one of them would jump at the chance to go out with you.” He says.

            I stare at him. I shove myself off his lap. I cross my arms over my stomach. “No, you do not get to do this. I have been here with you every single step of this hell we have gone through. I don’t regret one single second, there is no where else I’d rather be then by your side, but I get to share the high points of this with you too. You are not going to take that away from me. I’ve earned that!” I can’t help it. I break down in tears. I’ve been strong for so long and I’m so tired of it.  I sink down to the floor and sob out all the pain and unfairness of the past two months.

            He scoops me up under the arms and sits me in his lap in one fluid movement. He smoothes my hair and murmurs softly in my ear.

            “I’m sorry, Baby. I’m sorry.” He whispers.

            I try to tell him its okay but it hitches in my throat and comes out a sob. He starts singing very softly something that’s not English. He tucks my head in the crook of his neck. It’s funny how that place fits my head so perfectly, like it was made for me. I sob until my throat is sore from it and my eyes are swollen. I don’t even want to know what I look like.

            “Please, just let me share the good things as well as the bad things with you.” I whisper. My voice sounds thick and tired.

            “I will. I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been very fair to you.  I’m going to try and do better. Just have patience with me, please.” He says.

            I nod against his chest. He kisses my forehead.

            “Thank you.” He says after a moment.

            “For crying all over you and turning you yet again into a handkerchief?” I ask.

            “For being you.” He says.

Chapter Twenty-Two

-Angel-

            I’m very slowly making improvement. I haven’t said much to Buffy, especially after the scene we had in the kitchen. I don’t want to get her hopes up and I don’t want to make her cry like that again. I can’t stand it when she cries. It takes every bit of anger I have and drains it right out of me. I don’t care if I wanted to murder her seconds before, she starts crying and the only thing I’m capable of doing is cradling her in my arms and doing everything I can to make her tears stop.

            It started with me being able to move my foot that night after my dream. A few weeks ago my legs got that tingly feeling like when they fall asleep. Buffy had been sitting on my lap for hours while we watched TV.  I started practicing moving my feet or lifting up a leg when she wasn’t around. It’s hard work. I don’t think I’ve ever worked for anything so hard in my entire life. Even The Asshole is pleased with my progress. I’ve asked him to keep progress reports to Buffy vague. I want to surprise her.

            “So how are things with Buffy?” Patrick asks as I struggle with trying to walk holding onto railings on either side of me.

            I stop for a breather. I had a lot of upper body strength before this, now I can hold myself up almost infinitely. “They are good. I think she’s happy. There’s this thing about her eyes. When she’s sad her eyes are gray when she’s happy they are green.”

            “So what color are her eyes?” Patrick asks.

            “Mostly green.” I say with a smile.

            “Good. What the hell are you stopping for? Keep walking.” He barks at me.

            I grumble and begin the struggle again. Patrick’s next question nearly knocks me literally off my feet.

            “So are you having sex with her?”

            I stumble and fall against one of the rails. I glare up at. It’s a glare that has stopped most of the denizens of hell. The Asshole never stops smiling at me.

            “That’s none of your fucking business.” I growl.

            “Actually, it is. It’s part of your therapy. Have a seat. Let’s talk about this.” Patrick says.

            “I don’t want to have a seat. I want to walk and if you’re thinking about having an affair with my wife because you think I’m not satisfying her, I can think of a dozen ways to kill you slowly without ever having to stand up.” I stare a hole through him.

            “I’m not thinking about having an affair with your wife. She’s beautiful; I’ll give you that but not really my type. Tiny, fragile, blond, they always make me feel like I’ll break them.” Patrick says.

            I manage to struggle my way over to the wheelchair. I sit down and glare at The Asshole again. It pisses me off further because he doesn’t ever seem threatened by m glares. I satisfy myself by imagine all the ways that tiny fragile blond could kick his ass.

            “So, you’re not having sex with her. I’m going to assume it’s a can’t thing rather then a want thing.” Patrick says.

            I growl. “It’s Buffy, of course I want to.”

-Buffy-

            I glance at my watch and close my book. Angel should be almost finished with physical therapy by now. He won’t let me stay to watch and he doesn’t like to talk very much about it. Lately even Patrick has been closed mouthed about his progress.  I slip my book into my bag and stand up. I take my coffee with me.

            “See you tomorrow, Buffy.” The woman behind the coffee counter says. Her name is Sue and we’ve become friends of a sort. I sit in the coffee shop almost every morning while Angel is at physical therapy.

            “Alright, Sue. Have a good day.” I smile at her and walk out of the shop. It’s a beautiful spring day outside, just chilly enough for a jacket. The trees are beginning to bud out and the grass is that pale green that only comes with spring.

            Things are good between Angel and I. We still have those moments where I feel like I’m walking on broken glass and we don’t go out of the apartment much, but we have our friends over on a semi regular basis for dinner and DVD’s. Angel has even learned how to work the DVD player. I caught him reading the instruction manual one day. The man knows how to use every weapon ever forged, technology baffles him.

            By the time I get to the physical therapy room Angel is sitting in his wheelchair. Patrick is telling him something. I’ve tried to sneak in here early and see how things are. Angel is always waiting for me in his wheelchair. I think he uses our ability to feel each other because he doesn’t want me to see him struggle.

            Patrick looks up as I walk in the room. He shakes his head and grins. “I don’t know how he does it. He always knows when you’re near by.”

            “We feel each other.” I say before thinking. I wince. Crap, do you know how hard that is to explain to someone who doesn’t know the whole Angel and Buffy history?

            Patrick raises an eyebrow and looks back and forth between Angel and I, obviously waiting for an explanation.

            Angel surprises me by speaking up first. “Buffy’s my soul mate. When she’s near by I feel this whispering in my rib cage. It feels like my heart is beating faster and harder. It’s been like that since the first time I saw her.”

            Patrick looks at me, a bit doubtfully. I can almost hear him thinking Angel’s meds are making him talk like a crazy person.

            “For me it’s a tingling at the base of my spine. The closer he gets the tingle spreads so by the time he’s standing next to me, my whole body is tingling.” I say.

            Patrick looks at us both for a moment. “And this happens before you actually see each other?”

            “Yes, before I see him or hear him. I don’t even have to know he’s nearby. I can feel it.” I say.

            Patrick looks at me like I’m the crazy person now. “Okay, so I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel.”

            “Unfortunately,” Angel says.

            “Your husband is a very stubborn man.” Patrick says to me.

            I smile. “Tell me about it.”

            Angel and I start out to the car. I wait until we’re both inside to ask how things went. Angel shrugs. “Okay I guess.”

            I nod.  I’m afraid he’s not getting any better. It’s the only excuse I can think of for his reluctance to talk about his therapy sessions. “So, that husband wife thing, are we going to actually make it official one of these days or are we just going to pretend in front of your doctors and physical therapist?” I ask.

            “Buffy, I’ve tied you down enough; I don’t want to do it legally.” Angel says.

            “Maybe I do.” I say.

            He reaches across the van and takes my hand. “When you walk down the aisle, I want to be able to stand at the end of it.”

            I chasten the tears that come to my eyes. “Alright, but you should know, I just want to walk down the aisle with you at the other end, sitting, standing, it doesn’t matter to me.”

            “It does to me.” Angel says.

            I shake my head. We’ve had this conversation a dozen times, if not more. Angel always gives me the same speech he’s given me since I was eighteen years old. You should be married to someone who can give you the things I can’t, like making love and children. The arguments haven’t changed in all those years. My answer to him is the same now as it was then. I love him. I can’t change. I’ll never change. Not loving Angel would be like not breathing to me. The day it happens will be the day I die. And I know from experience, I’ll love Angel even from Heaven.

            “Where are we going?” Angel asks, noticing we’re not headed back to the apartment.

            “Giles needs some help. One of the slayers, Melanie, found something weird last night. Giles wants me to help her with training and he’d like your opinion on what she found.” I say.

            “Melanie, I don’t think I’ve ever met her.” Angel says.

            “You haven’t. “ I say.

            “Buffy, I don’t know. “ Angel starts.

            I know he’s apprehensive about meeting new people. He hates the idea that they might stare or feel sorry for him or wonder what I’m doing with him.  Angel was reclusive before. He’s even more so now. There is only a small set of friends he will see.

            “Angel, you are a living history book in regards to demons and the supernatural. Giles could really use your help. Melanie is anxious to meet you. All the slayers know who you are.” I say.

            “Yeah, that makes me so much more anxious to meet her. I want to reminded of my fame as Angelus.” He growls.

            “Actually, it’s me and you that all the slayers know about. Someone decided at some point that we were the Romeo and Juliet of the Supernatural world, complete with the dying for each other part. Our love life is talked about more then this week’s celebrity. It’s thrilling, really.” I say.

            “That’s even better. I don’t suppose they get the edited version?” Angel asks.

            I chuckle. “Are you kidding? They make up versions. So you’ll come help Giles?”

            He sighs. “I’ll help Giles, but only because it’s Giles.”

            I beam a smile at him. “Thank you.”

            I pull up to the magic shop. Getting Angel’s wheelchair out of the van and setting it up for him has become second nature to me.  He gets into it easily and I hold the door of the magic shop open for him. Giles and Willow are bent over a round table, very like the one in the Magic Box in Sunnydale. They both look up when we walk in.

            “Hi Buffy, Angel.” Willow says brightly.

            “Angel, I’m glad you agreed to help. “ Giles says.

            Angel nods and wheels over to the table. Giles and Willow have thoughtfully left a spot open at the table for his wheelchair.

            “Giles, where’s Melanie?” I ask.

            “She went to get one of those infernal high caffeine content things you and Willow drink, iced mocha something. She should be back shortly.” Giles says.

            I smile at his description of the drink. “I wish I’d known. I would have placed an order.”

            “I told her to get us both one.” Willow says with a smile.

            “You’re the best, Will.” I say. “So what’s up?” I lean over Angel’s shoulder, looking at the books spread across the table.

            “I’m not entirely sure. Melanie chased a vampire down into the sewers last night.  She staked it but then got turned around. She ended up in a section of the sewers we have previously not explored. She said it was covered with crystals of some sort. There were runes painted on the walls.” Giles says.

            “Crystals? Did she happen to get a sample of them?” Angel asks.

            “She did. She has them with her.” Giles says.

            As if on cue, Melanie steps through the door into the shop. She has a cardboard drink holder with three ice mocha chinos in it. Melanie is a beautiful girl. She’s tall, nearly 6’2, and willowy. She’s got long brown hair and really green eyes, not changeable like mine.  She’s from South Africa. Her parents actually knew what a slayer was and were honored their daughter was one. Melanie has been one of our best slayers.

            “Morning, Buffy.” She says in greeting.

            “Hi, Melanie. I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Angel.” I say.

            Melanie flashes a huge smile at him and walks over. She extends her hand to shake his. “Hi, I’m Melanie. You’re a total hottie. I mean Dawn showed some of pictures, but you were so pale in them. I guess still a vampire when they were taken. Anyway, nice to meet you.”

            I grin at Melanie as Angel blushes.

            He coughs. “Uhm thanks. Nice to meet you.” Angel says.

            Melanie turns to me. “So you ready to go train? I’ve been practicing since our last sparring session.”

            “Crystals first, then go play.” Willow says.

            Melanie digs a handful of pinkish crystals out of her pocket and lays them on the table. I get up and we go into the training room Giles keeps in the back of the magic shop, very much like in Sunnydale. It occurs to me that Giles has in essence tried to recreate everything about the Magic Box in this shop.

            Melanie and I face off. “Okay, you think you can take me this time?” I ask.

            “Don’t hold back. I won’t.” She says.

            I grin and take up a defensive fighting stance. “Please don’t.”

            Sometimes, it’s good to fight out your frustrations.

-Angel-

            I pick up one the crystals and look carefully at it. It looks familiar.  “Did these demons try to attack Melanie at all when she went into their lair?” I ask.

            “She didn’t mention an attack of any sort.” Giles says.

            I nod. “The last time I encountered anything like this was years ago. We never really found any record of these demons but they looked like huge cockroaches. They seemed to be pretty peaceful. The only reason they attacked us was because I accidentally brought some of their eggs back to the hotel with me. We gave them the eggs back they disappeared.”

            “Most interesting. You didn’t kill them?” Giles asks.

            “We tried. They are really strong. We only managed to get one and that was because Fred’s mother hit it with a bus.” I say.

            “A bus?” Giles says. “And I thought Buffy’s techniques were strange.”

            I chuckle. “It just happened to be available. We were attacked in the LA bus station.”

            “So you don’t believe these cockroach demons will pose a problem?” Giles asks.

            “I don’t think so. They never did in LA, once they got their eggs back. They seem to be sewer dwellers. I really don’t even know how you’d go about killing them if you wanted to. When I say we tried, I mean my entire team. It threw me around like a rag doll; this was when I was still a vampire.” I say.

            “Oh, wow so check one for the strong category.” Willow says.

            “Very well then. I’ll tell Melanie not to concern herself with these, cockroach demons.” Giles says.

            A customer in the shop steps up to the register. Willow jumps up to help them.

            “I’ve actually got something I want to discuss with you, Angel.” Giles says.

            “Okay,” I say a bit doubtfully.

            “As you know, I’ve been doing a watcher training program here in Cleveland and truthfully the training program is leaving me spread a bit thin. You have personal experience with many things that books can not replace. I would be very honored if you would come work with the Watchers Council, in the capacity of a watcher.  Of course we would pay you a salary. You could stay right here in Cleveland and I could concentrate on the training program.”

            “Melanie’s watcher I presume?” I say.

            “Melanie is the Hell mouth’s  permanent slayer. We often have more then one slayer here. “Giles says.

            “How old is she?” I ask.

            “Melanie turned seventeen last month.” Giles says.

            I shake my head. “I will never understand why they receive their powers so young.”

            “I think you could be a great asset to Melanie and the Watcher’s Council in general. I’m trying to change it. It’s not the stuffy place you once knew. We no longer have the Cruciamentum tests. We do not separate the girls from their parents without much discussion and thought. We no longer keep families in the dark. We try to do the best we can for these girls. We do not regard them as merely weapons in a war.  When Willow made all the slayers, Buffy was determined no girl would ever go through her life alone. The new Watcher’s Council tries to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Giles says.

            “I won’t go anywhere without Buffy.” I say.

            “Of course, I wouldn’t think of trying to separate the two of you.” Giles says.

            “I guess you’ve got a new watcher then.” I say.

Chapter Twenty-Three

            A/N In regards to the mentions I make of slayer speed in here, we see some episodes where Angel is literally there and then gone in the next blink of an eye. Or he’s behind the bad guy, bad guy takes a step and Angel is in front of him. I figure slayer speed is a lot like vamp speed, possibly a bit slower but not by much or they’d never last.

-Buffy-

            Angel has been Melanie’s watcher for a month now. He’s really good at it.  Melanie is more then a little dazzled by him.  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me a little bit. Melanie is almost the same age I was when Angel and I started getting serious. And thanks to nifty vampire non aging habits, Angel is the same age he was then too. Melanie is also absolutely gorgeous. Not that I think Angel would do anything, because it’s Angel. Ok I’m rambling, did I mention jealous much?

            Anyway, Angel seems to have become more content lately, now that he’s actually doing something besides brooding and staring out the windows.  Giles has enlisted me to take over Melanie’s training. We spend an hour, sometimes two, every day training.  Angel watches and makes suggestions.  Melanie is good too. The first time I sparred her it was a walk in the park to take her down. She makes me work for it now.

            I’m sitting in the living room reading a book. I’d never tell Angel but he’s gotten me hooked on the old books. Sometimes I have to grab him and have him translate something that Shakespeare wrote but for the most part I get the jest of the stories. Angel is taking a bath. Soaking in hot water seems to help the muscle spasms he’s recently begun having. There’s a big crash in the bathroom. I run in there using every bit of my slayer speed. There is a moment where the panic is so strong I think I’m going to pass out. Angel is lying on the floor. He’s holding his head and there’s blood everywhere. I crouch down on the cold tile floor.

            “Move your hands, Baby, let me look.” I say.

            Angel moves his hand. There’s blood all over the left side of his face. I snatch a white towel from the bar and hold it over the cut. With all the blood I can’t tell if it’s serious or not. One thing I’ve learned about head injuries, even tiny ones bleed like crazy.

            “What happened, Angel?” I ask.

            He shakes his head. “Just slipped getting out of the tub.”

            “Baby, you should have called me.” I say pulling the towel away from his head. The blood is already slowing down and it doesn’t look bad at all.

            “I didn’t want to bother you.” He says.

            “It’s not a bother.” I kiss his forehead lightly. “I don’t think this needs stitches just some antiseptic and band aids.”

            He wraps his arms around my waist and buries his face in my stomach. He’s taking deep shaky breaths.  I run my fingers through his hair. I can feel his body start to hitch with sobs. He’s trying so hard to hold it in.

            “Just let it go, Angel. I can handle it. Just let it go.” I say.

            “I hate this. I hate you having to move me around. I hate not being able to defend you. I hate not being able to pick you up and I hate not being able to make love to you.” He sobs.

            I hold him and let him cry, the cut on his head forgotten for now. I don’t say anything. There’s nothing I can say that will make him hate any of those things any less and besides I hate most of them too.  What’s been done to Angel, to us, isn’t fair, not even in the least. There’s also nothing we can do about it. We have to play the hand we’re dealt, even when it sucks. And to be truthful, I’d rather have this then the hand I was dealt a few years ago, the one without Angel in it.

            I lean over and kiss the curve of Angel’s neck. I run my hand along the expanse of his bare back. Now that the panic over his being hurt is gone, I realize Angel is still naked from getting out of the tub. Angel is a beautiful sight to behold, naked Angel is literally breathtaking. My fingers trace his jaw line. I tilt his face up and kiss his lips. I slide down the tile floor until I’m lying flush against him. His hands tangle in my hair. He nips at my bottom lip and I moan softly into his mouth.  He moves his mouth down, taking little bites of my neck.  He pauses at my scar, his mark. That is the most sensitive place on my body. When Angel licks or nips at that scar the adrenaline spikes through my body and brings with it waves of ecstasy. I arch into his body. His hand slips under my tank top and slides up my rib cage, just brushing the side of my breast. I bite down on the thick vein in his neck, impatient.  He is breathless for a moment.  I quickly shed my tank top. I need to feel his skin against mine. It’s been to long and I feel like I’ll burn up if I’m not touching him. His hands span my waist. He makes me feel fragile and powerful and beautiful all at the same time.

            “Buffy, maybe we should-“he starts.

            My fingers find his lips and cover them. “Shhh just kiss me.” I don’t want to think. I don’t want to wonder. I just want to feel. I tangle one hand in his hair, not giving his mouth a chance to leave mine. I unbutton my jeans and start sliding them off with my other hand. Angel realizes what I’m doing. He smiles against my mouth. Soon his hands are all over my body, sliding clothes off.  I sigh in relief. His skin is next to mine, his body flush with mine. I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I’m whole.  I put one leg over his hip and pull myself closer to him. I feel him tense up.

            “Its okay, Baby, we’ll take it slow” I splay my hand over his cheek and keep my eyes on his as I kiss him.

            He nods slightly. I can see fear in his eyes and I want to kiss it away. I want to make sure sorrow and fear never touch those beautiful soulful eyes again.

            “I love you, Angel.” I whisper, tears gathering in my eyes.

            “Oh, God, I love you so much, Buffy.” His voice is shaky and thick with emotion.

            “Trust me.” I say.

            He nods.

-Angel-

            I roll into physical therapy whistling. The Asshole does a double take. A slow shit eating grin spreads across his face.

            “You got laid.” He says.

            “Fuck you.” I say.

            “No thank, but I’d lay money down that a little blond did.”  He grins at me. “Come on, get your happy ass up off that wheelchair and let’s see what we can do about getting your legs to working as well as other body parts seem to.”

            For once The Asshole has said something I agree with. I park my wheelchair and haul myself up on my feet using the railings on either side of me.

            “Try putting some weight on your legs.” Patrick says.

            I look up at him doubtfully. “I fell last night doing that. They won’t hold me.”

            “That explains the gash on your head. You’ve got the railing to hold onto. Don’t let go of it, I just want you to shift the weight from your arms to your feet. You can be able to move your feet all day if you can’t put weight on them it won’t do you any good. You’ll get to graduate from a wheelchair to canes and braces, maybe.” He says.

            I glare at him.  I don’t know why. Never in four months of working with The Asshole has he ever backed down from any of my glares, no matter how murderous. I do what he wants me to though. I always do. He’s the expert in this area, or so he says. My legs are shaky underneath me.  I’ve been on a machine that works them but it’s not the same as actually putting weight on them.  I take one slow very shaky step and glance up at The Asshole. He’s grinning at me like a bloody idiot. I growl but take another step. At least half my weight is still on my arms.

            “If you’re going to dick around and waste my time, just tell me. I have better things to do.” Patrick says.

            “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m doing what you asked.” I snap back.

            “No, you’re playing it safe. You’ve fallen and you don’t want to fall again. I could go into all the psychological shit about why you’re doing it but it’s easier to tell you to cowboy up. Put all of your weight on your legs. If you don’t want to do that, sit your ass back down in your wheel chair and wait for Buffy to come get you.” Patrick turns his back to me.

            Asshole, who the hell does he think he is? He’s not the one that fell, smacked his head on the tub and had to have his wife come pick him up off the floor.  I growl and slowly test my weight. He is not going to get the better of me, not some ordinary human. It doesn’t occur to me in my anger I’m an ordinary human too. I take slow, small steps like those old men you see walking down the sidewalk.  I’m concentrating so hard I don’t feel Buffy.

            “Oh, God, Angel.” She says.

            I twist quickly to see her standing in the doorway. It throws me off balance and I start to fall. I make a mad grasp for the railings and my hand slips off them. She catches me.  The next thing I know we’re both sitting on the padded floor. She caught me.

            “Wow, you’re-you’re faster then anyone I’ve ever seen in my life and strong.” Patrick says. Awe and disbelief color his voice.

            Buffy nods. Her attention is focused completely on me. She didn’t even think twice about showing off her slayer speed and strength in front of someone, not when it meant something as little as making sure I didn’t fall.

            The Asshole is still staring at us.  Buffy is murmuring softly to me and running her fingers over my face and through my hair. Her fingers skim the cut on my head so lightly.  She’s smiling at me. I don’t feel any pain when Buffy is smiling at me.   I grasp her fingers in my hand and pull them to my lips. I kiss her fingers.

            “I’m okay. You caught me.” I say.

            “You always caught me. I figure I owe you one.” She says with a smile.

            “I love you.” I whisper looking up into green eyes.

            The world comes back into focus when The Asshole clears his throat. Could he not have just walked the hell out of the room?

            “Uh, sorry to break up this, whatever.” He apologizes.

            Buffy smiles and shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. Who knows when Angel and I would have come back down to earth? Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m supposed to work with Melanie to day on swords and I think we’re late.”

            Buffy wraps her arm around my waist and helps me get to my feet. She’s supporting most of my weight but to anyone watching, Patrick, it would look like I’m helping more then I am.  Using the railings and Buffy for support I manage to get into the chair.

            “Why didn’t you tell me you were getting so close to walking?” Buffy asks.

            I shrug. “Because I’m not. I can move my legs but today was the first time I tried putting very much weight on them. You saw what happened.” I say.

            “But, Angel, that’s like a huge step.” She says.

            “No, it’s not, not yet. I’ve got a lot of work if I want to actually be able to walk without a walker or braces or something.” I say.

            “I’m still impressed. It’s so much more then I thought it would be.” She says.

            I look at her confused. “You would really spend the rest of your life with me in this chair?”

            “Angel, I’d spend the rest of my life with you if you were paralyzed from the neck down. You’ve never really gotten that. I want my life to be with you, no matter what that means.” She says.

            I’m beginning to get that and it’s a scary, wonderful feeling.

-Buffy-

            He walked, or he almost did and he acts like it’s nothing. He doesn’t even realize it’s everything. I don’t want to make too much of it though. I don’t want to make him think that our future hinges on his walking. It doesn’t, it never has, it never will.  I can hardly concentrate on the training session with Melanie. I’m introducing her to swords today and I really should be on my game, since we’re fighting with real ones, granted the edges have been blunted but they could still do some damage in the hands of a slayer.

            “You okay today, B?” Melanie asks. “You seem off your game.”

            “I was taking it easy on you. You think you’re ready to play with the big girls?” I say.

            “Oh yeah.” Melanie says. There are times she reminds me of a less damaged Faith.

            I shake my head to clear it. Angel is sitting in the corner watching us. I wanted him there to give suggestions and pointers. I’m the slayer. I’ve fought with swords plenty of times. Angel fought with swords for a couple hundred years or so. He’s got a bit of an advantage on me.

            Melanie and I parry and dodge, careful to hit each other with the flats of the blunted blades. Neither of us has gotten a killing blow, but we’ve both gotten some hits in, me more then her.

            “She feints to her left, Mel. Stay on her.” Angel says.

            “Hey! You’re not supposed to give my secrets away.” I say teasingly as I duck a slice that would have been my neck.

            “Sorry, Baby, you know I love you but I have to train my slayer.” He says.

            I chuckle, easily parrying one of Melanie’s strikes. “And I used to be your slayer.”

            “You’ll always be the slayer of my heart.” He says.

            Aww, I know, cheesy line but that’s the thing about Angel. He means all those cheesy lines.  Melanie takes advantage of my Aww moment. She slaps my sword away. It flies against the wall.  She advances strong. I can only backpedal. I let her get me down. This is exactly the sort of situation I want her to be prepared for.

            Melanie backs me up against a wall. I don’t have anywhere to run. A familiar scene from my past runs through my mind.

            “Now that’s everything, huh? No weapons……no friends……no hope.”

           “Take all that away and what’s left?”

            Melanie draws her sword back and thrusts it at my chest. With slayer reflexes I swing up both my arms and catch the blade between my palms.

            “Me.”

              I shove the sword hilt back into her face. She narrowly avoids being hit by it. The force throws her across the room. I stand up and look over at Angel. I know he remembers the same scene I just re-enacted.

            “So, what did you learn?” I ask.

            “You’re strong as holy hell.” Melanie grumbles as she stands up, holding her hand to the back of her head. She must have bumped it on the wall. “I think I got the gyp end of the slayer strength.”

            “Relax, we’re like vampires. We get stronger, faster, more powerful with age.” I say. “What you should have learned is this. Never under estimate your opponent. They are never down and out until they are dead. The other thing that you should have learned about yourself is this. You’re the slayer. You don’t need weapons. You are a weapon. Lesson over.”

            Melanie looks at Angel like she expects him to say something to me.

            “She’s right. If Buffy had relied on weapons that day, I would have killed her. There is no one and nothing you can rely on except yourself. Remember that. It might keep you alive one of these days. I’m going to go help Giles with a translation. “Angel says as he wheels himself out of the training room.

            Melanie and I lean against the gymnastic horse sipping on cold bottles of water.

            “You did good today. I tricked you into that situation.” I say.

            “Angel tried to kill you?” Melanie says.

            I take a long drink of water. “Angel’s demon tried to kill me, Angelus. He did the exact same thing to me that I let you do to me. He thought he’d won. He thought that without weapons or friends I had nothing. He underestimated me and I won the battle that day.” I say.

            “I don’t understand. He’s not dead.” Melanie said.

            I consider my options. I can take the easy out and just gloss over the story. I can tell her something like it’s not always about the kill. Every win doesn’t end in death, there are other options.  I ask myself if it wasn’t about Buffy and Angel would I tell her? Does she need to know that sometimes the win doesn’t equal a kill, that sometimes emotions enter into battles and that sometimes there are decisions you have to make even though they kill you to make them. She’s the slayer. She needs to know. I take a deep breath. “Okay, short version because the long one is too painful. Angelus is Angel without a soul, or was. He lost his soul. He tried to suck the world into hell through Acathla. He and I fought with swords. Willow put his soul back in at the last moment, literally before I cut his head off.  It was too late. Acathla was already sucking the world into hell. The only way to stop it was to send Angel to hell, so I made a decision that I hope you don’t ever have to make. I sacrificed the person I love most in this world, for the world. I sent Angel to Hell. If you need a more complete story, ask Giles. Tell him I said its okay for you to read his journals.”

            “Wow. He came back and he still loved you?” Melanie says.

            I nod. “A hundred years in Hell didn’t change anything. A thousand years in Hell wouldn’t have changed anything. What Angel and I have, it never changes it just grows stronger, deeper whether you want it to or not.  Ok, that’s all I can handle of the pain that is Buffy and Angel history.”

            “I bet he was amazing to watch fight.” Melanie says a bit of envy and awe in her voice.

            “He was breathtaking to watch fight. Sometimes I’d watch him with tears in my eyes he was so beautiful.” I say, my heart aching.

Chapter Twenty-Four

-Buffy-

            I’m almost asleep when there is a frantic knocking on the door. I leap out of bed and throw on sweats. Angel wakes up also.  He begins to get dressed. I run to the door, knowing it will take him longer to get in here.  I glance out the peephole but can’t see anyone. There is another softer knock down low, on the bottom part of the door. I throw it open. Melanie is pulled into a ball, sitting up against the door. I can see blood pooling underneath her.

            “Melanie, sweetie, what happened?” I ask as I slip an arm around her waist. She struggles weakly to her feet and we walk slowly over to the couch.  She’s covered in blood and there’s a vamp bite on her neck. I search for her pulse on her wrist.  You’d think I could find these things quicker.  Angel rolls up beside me and touches his finger to the pulse in her neck.

            “Get her to the hospital now. Her pulse is weak, really weak. I’ll slow you down to much. I’ll get a cab and meet you there.” Angel says.

            I trust him. He spent a century knowing just how weak a person’s pulse could get before they died. 

            Angel scoops her up in his arms and settles her on his lap. Somehow, even at six foot two, Melanie looks like a little girl in his arms, a very sick little girl. Angel takes her to our car.  I take her from him and settle her as gently as I can in the front seat.

            “Go, hurry. She doesn’t have a lot of time. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Angel says.

            I nod and kiss him quickly on the forehead. The tires squeal as I pull out of the parking garage. I make it to the hospital in record time and squeal up to the emergency room entrance. Thank God for attentive orderlies and nurses. Some one has a gurney out there even as I open the passenger door.

            “What happened?” one of the nurses asks.

            “I don’t know. She just showed up at my apartment like this.” I answer. “She’s lost a lot of blood. She needs a transfusion now.”

            The nurse nods. “We’ll take care of her.”

            The gurney is rushed off to another area of the hospital. I go to the pay phones and call Giles and Willow. I sit back down to wait for the doctors or someone to come give me a report on Melanie. Angel shows up shortly afterwards.  I crawl into his lap and collapse against him. I don’t care that the entire emergency room is watching me. I need Angel right now and I know he needs me.

            “I don’t know anything yet. They took her. I told them she needed blood.” I say.

            “Did she tell you what happened?” Angel asks.

            I shake my head. “She lost consciousness on the way over here. I figured there would be time for that when she started feeling better.”

            “If she does.” Angel says quietly.

            “She’s going to be okay, Angel. She’s a slayer. We got her here in time. I think the cuts were already starting to heal up. She just needs blood. Remember, I was okay. She will be too. This is a vamp bite and some cuts and bruises, nothing more.” I try to reassure him. I’m not sure myself but the words sound good.

            He just nods. He’s trying hard to control his emotions. I can see them rolling over and over in his eyes. I rest my hand against his cheek and kiss him softly.  I know how much he’s hurting. Losing a slayer is horrible. There’s no word for what I feel when one of my slayers die. To Angel, Melanie is his slayer because he’s her watcher. To me, they are all my slayers, because I made the decision to make them slayers.

            I jump up when a doctor walks into the emergency waiting room.

            “Melanie Winters?” The doctor asks looking around for someone.

            “That’s us; I mean we’re with her.” I say.

            “If you’ll come with me. “  He beckons.

            I follow him, Angel trails behind me. He takes us to a private room. Melanie is lying on the bed looking pale and small. I am compelled to walk over and smooth a lock of her long brown hair away from her face. There’s a large bandage over her neck.

            “What happened to her?” The doctor asked.

            I shake my head. “I don’t know. She showed up at our door like this.”

            “Where are her parents? Neither of you are old enough.” The doctor says.

            I shake my head. “No. Her parents live in Texas. Her guardian will be here in a little bit. We’re friends.”

            The doctor nods. “I’ll wait to speak with her guardian then.”

            “No, please. He was my guardian when I was younger too. Melanie is like a sister. We need to know if she’s going to be okay.” I say.

            The doctor sighs and looks from Angel to me. “She’s going to be fine. I don’t know when this happened but she was already starting to heal when I looked at her.  We gave her a transfusion. There were long shallow cuts on her ribs and waist and then the puncture wounds in her neck. It almost looks like someone wanted to bleed her, slowly. She’s going to be okay though. I’ll keep her over night and see how she is in the morning.” The doctor says.

            “Thank you.” I say.

            The doctor nods and leaves the room.  Angel wheels his chair next to the bed. I crawl back into his lap and bury my nose in the crook of his neck. I take a deep breath of him. The smell of Angel always soothes me. It surrounds me and cushions me from the outside world.

            “She’s going to be okay.” He says, needing to hear it as much as say it.

            I nod. “She is. When she wakes up we’ll find out what did this to her and I will kill it.”

            “We should have two active slayers here.” Angel says.

            I look at him. “Hello, slayer sitting in your lap.”

            “You’ve been so busy taking care of me, you haven’t been patrolling.”

            “Angel, I thought Melanie could handle herself. She’s damn good. I don’t know what took her down but it had to be something big. There was no way to predict this.” I can feel the guilt piling itself on my shoulders. Angel is right. I should have been patrolling with Melanie. I’ve become complacent in my “normal” life. I shouldn’t have let her go out alone. She’s good but she’s green. She’s been a slayer a little over a year. I thought she’d be okay because her track record is better then mine was then. I mean she hasn’t died or put the world in peril. By the time I was seventeen I’d died once and unleashed a monster that wanted to suck the world into hell, so her track record is considerably better. That’s no excuse. She’s still young. She’s still new to her power.

            “Buffy, it’s not your fault.” Angel says almost as if he can read my thoughts.

            “No, you’re right. I should have been patrolling with her. I’m a slayer. I will be a slayer until the day I die. With all the new slayers I guess I let my self think I could stop being a slayer. I should have been patrolling with her.” I say.

            “Buffy, I didn’t mean that. I meant maybe we should station two slayers here, neither of them being you. You deserve a normal life, you deserve of life of not being the slayer. You earned it.  I should have suggested to Giles that we bring someone else in earlier.” H e says.

            “Okay, you know this blame a palooza is not getting us anywhere. Giles will be here any minute. We need to figure out who did this. Hopefully Melanie will wake up soon. I don’t remember how long I was out, a couple of hours at least.” I say.

            Angel nods. I sigh and relax into him. His arms go around my waist. He rests his head on the crown of mine. I close my eyes and take deep even breaths. I fall into the easy rise and fall of Angel’s chest, or he falls into mine. I’m not sure which. When Angel and I are this close his and mine get all mixed up.

            I wake up with a yawn and then a start as I remember where I am.  I’m still sitting on Angel’s lap. I wake him up when I start. I glance over at Melanie’s bed. She smiles at me. She still looks pale and wan but definitely more herself.

            “Morning,” she says.

            I smile at her. “When did you wake up?”

            She shrugs. “A couple of hours ago. Giles was in here. I think he went to get tea or something.  He wanted to wake you two. I told him to let you sleep.”

            “Thank you.” I say.

            “How do you feel?” Angel asks. His voice still has that raw, hoarse sound to it that it always has when he first wakes up. I love that sound.

            “Okay. I mean not ready to go kick that guy’s ass, but okay.” She says.

            “What happened, Melanie?” I ask.

            “Let’s wait until Giles gets back. I made him wait until you guys woke up.” She says.

            I lean over the bed and lift the edge of the bandage covering the vamp bite.  It’s a shallow bite, it wasn’t meant to drain her. It’s beginning to heal.

            “Now I’ll have a scar like yours.” Melanie says looking at my exposed collarbone and Angel’s mark there.

            I shake my head. “No, yours is shallow. Most vamp bites don’t scar.”

            “Then why did yours? I mean obviously it wasn’t that bad. You lived.” Melanie says.

            Angel answers for me, and much more succulently then I could have. “Buffy’s bite is a mark, a brand. It tells the vampire world that she belongs to another vampire.”

            Melanie’s eyes widen in understanding. “You?” She asks looking at Angel.

            He nods.

            “Wow, so were you evil?” Melanie asks.

            “No, he was poisoned. Only the blood of a slayer would cure it.” I say.

            “So why the mark and not just a bite like mine?” Melanie asks.

            “She’s mine. She’s always been mine, she’ll always be mine. I wanted everyone to know that.” Angel answers. It’s funny. It sounds over simplified, but it’s not. When it comes to Angel and I, things are that simple.

            Giles saves us from further questioning by walking in the room with tea.

            “Good, you two are awake. Melanie wouldn’t let me wake you up.”  Giles says.

            “Good morning to you too, Giles. I slept great. Thanks for asking.” I tease him.

            “I’m-ah- pleased you slept well.” Giles says clearing his throat.

            “Watcher lesson number one.” I grin and say to Angel.

            Giles just gives me that look, the one I’ve long come to think of as my look, since I’m the only one that ever garners that look.

            “If we could move on then, what happened last night?” Giles turns his attention to Melanie.

            Melanie scrunges down in her bed and manages to look like a child again. Angel scoots us both closer and takes her hand in his. She smiles at him.  He’s going to make a good watcher. I taught him a long time ago that slayers need love too, just not the same love that I get. That’s Buffy love, not slayer love. Just so we’re clear.

            “I was out patrolling kind of near Buffy and Angel’s place, in the alleys and stuff near some of the nightclubs around Live Oak.  Anyway, this vamp sneaks up on me. I didn’t even feel him. Usually my slayer sense goes insane when there’s a vamp anywhere in the area.”

            I pout. “Not fair. I think mine’s broken.”

            Angel grins at me.

            “You didn’t get the slayer sense?” Melanie asks.

            “Sort of. I don’t feel vamps. I mean I get bad vibes from places and situations but the only vamp I could ever feel was Angel.” I say.

            “One of these days, when the Hell mouth isn’t spitting out something, I want to hear this whole story.” Melanie says.

            “Yes, so the vampire snuck up on you.” Giles prods Melanie. I grin. Giles used to have to do the same thing to me.

            “Oh, yeah, he snuck up on me. He had some flunkies standing at the front of the alley so no one would barge in. He said he wanted to talk. He had a message for me to deliver.” Melanie says.

            “What did this vampire look like?” Giles asks.

            “Wrinkled, I mean vamp faces are never pretty but this guy was ugly.  He looked old, like those vamps that get all ugly with time, almost like the picture of that guy with the fruit punch mouth, but not that ugly. He was tall and kind of skinny, dark hair, dark complected skin, I think. He had an accent maybe French or Italian? I’m not sure. He got out a knife and put a couple of cuts on my sides. He said he didn’t want to kill me. He wanted to find Angelus’ slayer. I told him he was looking at her but he argued with me.”

            I shake my head. “No he was looking for me. Remember the scar? He was looking for me. What did he say besides that?”

            “Nothing, he just said to get the message out. He was looking for Angelus’ slayer. He didn’t say where to meet him or anything at all.” Melanie says.

            “I’m betting he’ll find me. I’m going to make myself easy to find. You said you were patrolling the night clubs near Live Oak?” I say.

            Melanie nods.

            “Angel, if they let Melanie out you take her to the magic shop. You and Giles can start some research. I’m going to patrol the area Melanie found this guy in last night, see what I can dig up.”

            “Buffy, I don’t like the idea of you going out there by your self.” Angel says.

            “Angel, I’m a big girl. This guy can’t be worse then any of the others I’ve faced. I’ll be careful. I’ll run if I need to, but we’ve got to find out what he wants with me.” I say.

-Angel-

            Melanie reminds me of Buffy when it comes to research. She got bored a long time ago and is in the training room practicing her meditation. I refuse to allow her to do anything physical for at least another day.

            Willow slams a book shut. “I’m not finding anything. I don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

            “A vampire, possibly Italian, old, Melanie is a good slayer. She would have been able to take down anything less then 100 years old.” Giles says.

            “That narrows it down. Most vampires don’t live that long. They get dusted by the slayer or they just get stupid.” I say. There has to be something. I close my eyes and sift through my memories.

            “Wait a minute. Willow look in the books about the order of Aurelius.” I say.

            “The order of Aurelius? I thought they were all but disbanded when Buffy turned the Master’s bones to dust.” Oz says.

            “Technically, yes. I hadn’t thought of it before because the Master’s bloodline ends in Spike, unless he’s turned someone I don’t know about. There was one though, I never met him. He was an Italian. I was supposed to be the Master’s right hand when he took things over.  If this guy is thinking about reforming the order of Aurelius and he’s been living in a box for the last several years, he could be looking for Angelus.” I say.

            “Do you remember his name?” Giles asks.

            I nod. “Morte Viziosa, it means-“

            “Vicious Death.” Giles finishes.

            Chapter Twenty-Five

-Buffy-

            I’m bored.  I’ve been walking these alleys for two hours with no sign of any vamp what so ever. The only thing I found was a couple making out in the alley behind a club. I scared them. I hope they go somewhere less populated by the undead. I can hear the club music pounding out of the various places. I haven’t gone dancing in years, probably since the last time I saw Faith.

            “Ssssslayer.” I hear behind me.

            I stop stock still. Dammit, why didn’t I get the special spidey sense package? I mean feeling Angel, really nice, but it would have been nifty to have the whole deal. I turn around slowly, casually.

            “I heard you were looking for me.” I lean against the brick wall.

            The vamp walks closer to me. He glides like really old vamps sometimes do. Angel could almost manage the glide before he became human. Melanie was right. He is ugly, not Master ugly but so few are.

            “You are Angelus’ slayer.” He says.

            “Maybe you didn’t get the memo, but his name is Angel now.” I say.

            “You carry his mark.”

            “Wow, your observation skills are really lacking aren’t they?” I say.

            “Where can I find Angelus?” the vamp asks.

            I pretend to think for a moment. “I’m thinking a hotel room…. in Hell.”

            He moves faster then I anticipated. He backhands me. “Angelus should teach his slayer some respect.”

            I wipe the blood from my mouth, glaring up at him. “I’m going to teach you some respect.” I dart my right hand out and land a fist squarely in his solar plexus. He stumbles back just far enough. I catch him in the temple with a jumping snap kick. The vamp’s body crashes into a grouping of trash cans.

            “Oh come on, exactly how did you take out my slayer?” I taunt.

            “Like this.” He says from behind me. Holy shit, I never even heard him move. “If I wanted you dead, you would be. I want Angelus.”

            “And I told you, Brain Trust, his name is Angel now.” I say.

            The vampire’s hand caresses my throat. He pauses at Angel’s mark. His fingers wrap around my throat. I will myself to stay calm.  He bends to whisper in my ear.  “I think Angel will be most interested in what I have to say to him.”  I slam my head back into his forehead before he has a chance to move. He stumbles back with a scream. “Bitch!”

            I catch him in the temple with a flying roundhouse kick.  “Just because I like keeping really accurate records, what name should I put in my journal of Vamps I’ve staked?”

            He’s gone. I don’t know how but he’s gone. I was kicking his ass one second and the next, no joy.

            “Morte Viziosa,” a voice says from the shadows. I dart toward the sound and am not surprised to find nothing.

            I dust my hands off and walk back to the magic shop, frustrated that I lost the vamp. At least I’ve got a name. The shop is ablaze with lights. Everyone is gathered around the round table, just like King Arthur’s knights. Sorry my brain rambles sometimes. Everyone turns when I walk in the room.

            “Mortie Vezza.” I say.

            “Morte Viziosa,” Angel says in perfect Italian.

            I pout and go sit on his lap. “I wanted to be the one who broke the great news.”

            He chuckles.  “Sorry. Tell us what happened.” He touches the corner of my mouth that is still fresh with blood.

            “He found me. We fought. He ran. I’m all big and scary.” I joke. “Seriously though, he’s strong, he’s way fast. Twice he moved and I never saw it happen. He’s not invulnerable. I was hurting him. He’s just too fast.” I say.

            “He’s somewhere around 525 years old.” Angel says.

            “He wanted to talk to Angelus. “ I say.

            Angel takes a deep breath. “Did he say why?”

            I shake my head. “Nope but he didn’t want to kill me. He just wanted me to deliver a message.”

            “He didn’t have anyone with him?” Angel asks.

            “Nope, he really didn’t hurt me. He backhanded me and said you should teach me respect and the back of my head hurts where I head butted him, but that’s it.”

            “Let me guess. You taunted him.” Angel said.

            “Only a little, besides I had to make with the quips, otherwise he might think you’d sent an imposter. My quippage is famous you know, even Dracula knew about it.” I say.

            “Dracula?” Angel says.

            I wrinkle my nose. “Uhm, did I forget to tell you about that?” I say.

            “Dracula came to see you?” Angel says.

            “Yeah, it was a whole big deal. Xander turned into the bug eating guy from the movies. Dracula got Buffy under his thrall. He bit her. Riley freaked out. It-oh-shutting up now.” Willow says as she finally catches my glare.

            I can feel Angel literally trembling underneath me. “He. Bit. You.” Angel says. Each word is hard, separated and carefully controlled.

            I bite my bottom lip. “Under thrall, promise.” I squeak.

            Giles gets up. “Uhm, I’ve got books in the back room. Perhaps, Willow, Oz, Melanie help me gather them.”

            Willow and Oz stand up. Melanie remains seated. “No way I’m missing this.” She whispers back to Giles.

            “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill him very slowly. Little, sniveling gypsy, he’s going to pay. He knew, he knows what that mark means. It’s not like the entire demon community doesn’t know you belong to me.” Angel’s voice is shaking with anger.

            “Baby, it was twelve years ago. “

            “I don’t care. I’m going to kill him.” Angel says.

            “I staked him, twice.” I offer.

            “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to make sure the asshole stays dead. No amount of crappy gypsy magic will bring him back when I’m finished with him. No one touches my mate.” Angel says.

            I don’t bother to mention that crappy gypsy magic made our lives hell for several years.

            “Okay, Baby, not that I don’t like it when you go all cro mag on me, but I think we better handle things here before we tackle Dracula.”

            “Fine, after this we are making a trip to Romania. I’ll take his fancy native dirt and shove it up his ass.” Angel growls.

            I glance over at Melanie. She’s fighting giggles.

-Angel-

            When Buffy kisses me awake in the morning, I’m tempted to pull her back into bed and stay there for the rest of the day. The only reason I get up is because if I want to kick Dracula’s ass for biting Buffy I’m going to have to be able to walk to do it.  Buffy drops me off and heads to the magic shop to help with the research.  I’m working on walking in between the railings again.

            “I don’t know what put a burr up your ass, Angel but whatever is motivating you seems to be working.” The Asshole says.

            “Someone hit on my wife.” I growl.

            “Maybe I should have made a pass at Buffy a long time ago.” The Asshole says.

            “Go ahead. I’m going to kill this guy very slowly when I find him. I can put you on the list too.” I warn.

            “Kidding, I was kidding.” The Asshole puts his hands up in surrender.

            The session goes really well. I’m walking with just my fingertips brushing the railing. I take very small, shuffling steps. It’s a long way from where I used to be. The doctor warns I may never be where I used to be. I may never have the grace, agility or reflexes. At one time I would have thought that unacceptable.  Now I’ll take anything that gets me out of that chair and on my own two feet.

            “Good job today. Tomorrow we’ll work with canes. If you keep moving at this rate I think you can be out of that chair in a month.” The Asshole says.

            I might have to come up with a new name for him.

            I take a cab to the magic shop.  It’s just ten in the morning and everyone there is deep in research mode. Buffy and Melanie are sipping at ice lattes and providing not so helpful tips. Buffy stands up and breaks into this huge smile as soon as she sees me. I love the way she looks at me. She just glows. There’s not another person on this earth she looks at the same way she looks at me. She sits down, draping her legs over the arm of my wheelchair. The one thing I will miss about the wheelchair, Buffy in my lap, all the time. I’ll have to come up with more excuses to get her to sit in my lap. Maybe I’ll get rid of all the chairs in the house except one.

            “Did we find out anything else?” I ask.

            Buffy shakes her head. “Not really. We know most everything. Willow, Melanie and I are going patrolling tonight. Will has this nifty tar spell she can smack him with that will slow him down. After that, he’s just another vamp.”

            “You’ll be careful.” I say.

            “Extra, promise. Cross my heart and hope not to die, because been there done that just not fun.” She puts her hand over her heart.

            I kiss her hand. “Take care of that for me.” I say.

            “Take care of what? My hand?” She looks at her hand confused.

            “Your heart.” I say.

            She smiles at me. “That belongs to you.”

            “Okay, then take care of my heart.” I say.

            “It’s my most cherished possession.” She whispers and leans in to kiss me.

            It’s funny. Willow and Giles completely ignore us. They’ve gotten used to Buffy and I. Melanie is watching us with a silly grin on her face, absorbing everything.

            “Baby, if you and Mel are going to train today, go do it. I want to go home for a while before you go patrol.” I say.

            “Oh yeah, because we have to uhm, take a nap before patrol. Napage, always good for patrol.” Buffy grins at me.

            “Yeah, I’ve gotten used to our afternoon naps.” I rub her nose with mine and let her get up. Great now I’m going to spend the next hour thinking about making love to Buffy.

-Buffy-

            I drop Angel off at the magic shop. He and Giles are going to research.  Melanie, Willow and I are walking the alleys where I met Mortie last time. I twirl my stake and sing the lone ranger theme. Melanie is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

            “B, I don’t mean to you know tell you how to do your job, but don’t you think being quiet would be good?” Melanie says.

            I crack a smile at her. “If he’s anywhere within a half a mile of here he can smell me and you. He’s got our scent. He could track us better then any bloodhound, scratch that, better then any dog. So scream, yell and sing all you want. He’s either got the scent of us or not. Besides we want to find him.” Having Willow beside me makes me feel pretty invincible. She is still a wicked powerful Wicca.

            Melanie doesn’t seem to be comforted by my words. She’ll loosen up. It’s always hard to get back into the swing of things when you’ve been hurt. She’s been lucky up until now. She hasn’t been seriously injured until the night before last.

            “Relax Mel. I know it’s hard to get back into it.  I was freaked for a while after I died. Ask Will, I was a total bitch.”

            “You died?” Melanie says in disbelief.

            “Thirteen years as a slayer, I die twice, save the world more times then I can count and all they remember is that I fell in love with a vampire.” I say with an exaggerated sigh.

            “Well, yeah, its better then any soap opera ever written.” Melanie says.

            “It is pretty romantic, the whole forbidden love thing.” Willow agrees.

            “When we get through with this guy, I swear I’m making Angel give you slayer history lessons, that don’t include our love life.” I say.

            “I heard ya’ll today.” Melanie said. “So Angel can’t walk but he can have sex?”

            I blush bright red. “Here Vampy vampy, oh Mortie vamp where you at?” I yell at the top of my lungs. Maybe Mortie will come along and kick my ass or something.

            *

            At midnight we decide to pack it in. We haven’t found one vamp, one demon or one sign that Morte even cares we’re there.

            “Next time I think I’ll take out an ad in the paper, gives good neck.” I grumble.

            Willow grins at me. I open the door to the magic shop and step inside.  “Honey, I’m home!” I shout out.

            The magic shop is a wreck. The table is over turned, there are books scattered everywhere. Ice water runs through my veins. Angel’s wheelchair is turned over on the floor. “Angel,” I try to yell. It comes out a watery wavery whisper. My knees buckle. Melanie catches me and eases me to the floor.

            “Giles,” Willow yells.

            “In here,” Giles comes out of the backroom swerving and holding a bloody hand to his head. “Vampires showed up. They took Angel.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

-Buffy-

            I’m numb. Everything has that hazy surreal quality to it when you know it can’t be real. I sip automatically at the tea Giles has to put in my hand.  My eyes are unfocused. It takes great effort to slide them up to Giles’ face and concentrate on what he’s saying.

            “Willow, you should have no problem with a locator spell now that Angel is human.  Once we find him, we can start planning an attack to get him back.” Giles says. “Right now we’re all going to go to Buffy and Angel’s house. There’s more room there. Buffy can sleep and we can work on our strategy.”

            “Can’t sleep, Giles. They have him. He can’t fight back. “Tears threaten and I draw back into myself. I know if I don’t I’ll start crying and I will never stop.

            “Buffy, he’s not helpless just because he can’t walk. He’s a warrior. More importantly he loves you. He trusts you. He knows you will save him no matter what. He’ll find a way to stay alive until that happens.” Giles says.

            I nod mutely. I allow them to lead me to the car. Willow buckles me in like a child. I glance up at her. She seems fuzzy. I don’t move my gaze. She shuts the door and I find myself looking out the window. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion.

            We get to the apartment. Willow digs my keys out of my pocket. I don’t make any move to help her. She lets us all in. Willow leads me to the bedroom. She sits me down on the bed.

            “Lay down, Buffy. We need you to be alert if we’re going to get Angel back. “Willow says. She covers me with a blanket.

            “Leave the door open and the hall light on, please.” I ask. My voice sounds tinny and far away. I haven’t slept with the door open and the hall light on since I was very little girl.

            She nods and walks back into the living room. I can hear the whispered voices in there.

            “I’m just going to call Oz and have him come over. Melanie there’s an extra room down the hall; take which ever one you want. Get some sleep. We need our slayers in top form.” Willow says.

            “You need sleep also, Willow. The girls are going to be relying on your magic.” Giles says.

            “I’ll sleep. I just want Oz here first.” She says.

            Melanie walks past my room. She pauses and looks in. When I don’t say anything she moves on down the hall. I hear a door open and close.  Just before I drift off I hear the front door open. I can make out Oz’s quiet rumbling voice but I can’t understand the words. Somehow knowing Oz is here is comforting. Oz has this quality, its ease I guess. Nothing ruffles him, nothing upsets him. No matter what happens you can always count on Oz to act exactly like Oz.  His calm just kind of emanates from him and infects everything and everyone in the area.

            I kneel next to him. He’s lying on the floor in a dark candlelit cavern.  I smile and run my finger across his cheekbone. I kiss a cut there. He wakes up with a start and then relaxes when he sees me.

            “I knew you’d come for me.” He croaks out. His voice sounds weak and harsh.

            “I’ll always come for you, Baby.” I whisper. “Hold on just a little while longer. I’ll get you out of here.”

            “I’m trying.” He says.

            “I know. Keep trying. I love you, Angel.” I whisper.

            “I love you, Buffy.”

            I wake up suddenly. The haze is gone. The numbness is gone. I will get him back.  I know he’s alive. I can feel him inside. If he was gone, I’d know. I take a shower and get dressed. Its early afternoon. There’s plenty of time to make our plans. When I walk into the living room everyone is already gathered there.

            “How are we getting him back?” I say.

-Angel-

            I wake with a start and then I see her there. She smiles at me and kisses my temple.

            “I knew you’d come for me.” I manage to say.

            “I’ll always come for you, Baby. Hold on just a little while longer. I’ll get you out of here.” She whispers.

            “I’m trying.” I say.

            “I know. Keep trying. I love you, Angel.” She whispers.

            “I love you, Buffy.” I say.

            I wake up slowly and confused. I’m not at home. Buffy isn’t kissing me awake and the room smells like death and unturned earth. It smells the way my grave smelled when I crawled out of it. I’m not in a grave though. I’m lying on a bed with silk sheets.

            “Good. You’re awake. The Master wants to speak with you.” A vampire says and rises to his feet.

            I look around me. I’m in a warehouse. There are candles lit everywhere. It is very reminiscent of the Master’s lair, but obviously from the boarded up windows, above ground. The Master can’t be alive though. Buffy shattered his bones with a sledge hammer.

            A vampire I assume is Morte Vizosa walks in the room. He is wearing an ornate velvet robe. He walks closer to me and his form falls into the light. He is old, perhaps even older then we estimated.  I’m not even sure he has a human face anymore. If he does he chooses not to use it. He takes a deep sniff of the air and whirls on the vampire at his side.

            “You fool, this is not Angelus. This is a human. I realize you are incompetent but I would think even you could tell the difference between a vampire and a human.” He growls.

            “M-master, he answers to the name Angel.” The vampire stutters out.

            Morte grabs me roughly by the arm and pulls me up. I try not to wince.  He looks at my back and then growls before dropping me back to the bed. He looks at me and addresses me for the first time.

            “You carry the mark of Angelus.”

            “I’m not Angelus anymore. I go by Angel.” I say.

            “You are also not a vampire anymore.” Morte snarls. I’m not really sure he’s capable of talking without snarling or growling.

            “Right, there was this prophecy. I mean who knew.” I say.

            “You were the Angelus that the Master and Darla spoke so highly of.” Morte says.

            “Was, past tense.  After that I was Angel, the vampire with a soul and now I’m Angel, human.” I say. I’m stalling for time. He’s looking at me with a murderous rage. He also looks a bit hungry.

            “That part can be remedied.” Morte growls.

            “Wait, hold on. What do you need Angelus for?” I backpedal.

            “I intend to make the Order of Aurelius strong again. I will fulfill the Master’s plans. Angelus was to be the right hand of the Order. It is part of fulfilling the Master’s plans.” Morte says.

            “You do know the Master is dead, right? He has been for about fourteen years now.” I say.

            Morte growls. “Yes, Angelus’ slayer killed him.”

            “What makes you think Angelus will go along with this? He wasn’t exactly a team player.  You bring him back and he’s going to tell you all to fuck yourselves and go find his slayer.” I’m telling the truth. It’s true, Angelus doesn’t reside in me anymore, but he did for over two hundred and fifty years. I know him.

            “Angelus will want the power I can give him.” Morte says.

            “Ok, even if he does. Angelus is in Hell right now. What makes you think turning me will attract Angelus back into this body? For all you know you could get a demon like the idiot there that brought you a human instead of Angelus.” I am stalling for time. I am afraid he is beginning to realize that.

            “Angelus will return.” He says.

            He leans close to me. I wait until I can almost feel his breath on my neck. I catch him in the jaw with the hardest right hook I can manage. It’s a pretty good one, I’ve been working on that human upper body strength remember. He is knocked back to the floor. I sit up and put my bare feet on the cold floor.  The surrounding vampires are focused on their “Master”; even so I barely get my feet under me when I am slammed back into the bed with a palm on my shoulder.

            Morte Vizosa stands up. His yellow eyes shine with anger. I am pleased to see there is blood on his mouth. His tongue darts out and laps it up.  “You’ve made me hungry.” He growls and leans in to me again. This time he grabs both of my wrists and holds them. Buffy was right. This guy is strong and fast. I struggle but I don’t scream. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I’m sorry, Buffy. I’m so sorry, Baby. I make my apologies to her in my head as I feel the vampire’s fang pierce my skin. He gluts on my blood, taking it in long deep drinks. My head swims and pure ecstasy over comes me. I’d forgotten about this part of being drained.  Part of me struggles against it. I will not give in. I will not let him feed me his blood. I will not make Buffy kill me, yet again.

            I watch through hazy eyes as Morte Vizosa tears open his wrist.

            I can hear the whoosh of air a vampire makes when he’s dusted but I look up and Morte is still there in front of me.

            “Hey, Morty, sorry to crash but I must have lost my invite.” Buffy’s voice echoes over the warehouse.  I smile and pass out into oblivion. She came for me. She promised she would.

-Buffy-

            I tamp down the panic in me and force the Slayer into action. Willow is behind me and already chanting.  Melanie is beside me, crossbow in hand. The first dusting was her doing.  She manages to bag another one before they close in. She discards the crossbow and pulls out her stake.  I take out the one closest to me with half spinning in-to-out crescent kick. I continue spinning and take another vamp out with a back leg sweep. I stake both vamps in one fluid movement and keep moving.  Melanie is beside me. She tends to fight with punches and jabs. I prefer to use my feet. Different slayer styles, whatever gets the job done.  I drive a jab into the kidneys of an approaching vamp. He doubles over. I tangle my fingers in his hair and slam his nose into my knee. I jab a stake up into his heart and untangle my fingers just before he turns to dust. Behind me, vamps are running into Willow’s shield spell and bouncing off. We had toyed with idea of letting her shield us all but I was afraid it would take too much out of her along with the other spells we have planned.

            I stagger back as a vamp catches me in the jaw with roundhouse punch. I shake my head and just get my hand up in time to grab his wrist. I don’t have time for games. Angel is dying. I pull the vamp close to my chest, driving a stake into his heart. I walk through his dust toward Angel and Morte.  If I’m counting accurately there’s only one more and Morte.

            I smile. I can hear Willow chanting behind me.

            “Air like nectar, thick as onyx, Cassiel by your second star. Hold mine victim as in tar.”

            “Games up, Morty.” I say.

            He turns around and moves toward me, very slowly.

            “What have you done?” He screeches. It’s not a pretty sound.

            “I know, I know Slayers aren’t supposed to have friends. The one girl in all the world, she alone, only haven’t you heard? We aren’t alone anymore.” I shove a stake through his heart. He looks down at his chest surprised. His mouth forms an O before he dusts. I walk through his dust and crawl onto the bed with Angel. Tears rush to my eyes.

            “Willow, healing spell, big one, now.” I say.

            Willow lays her hands on Angel’s arm and utters some words. Her hands glow with a faint rosy glow and then it vanishes. He doesn’t wake up but his pulse has picked up enough that I can feel it weakly thudding beneath my fingers.  I cradle him in my arms and kiss his forehead.

            “Come on, Baby. We’ve got to get you to a hospital.” I whisper. I drape one of his arms over my shoulders. Melanie takes the other side. It’s awkward with the height difference but it doesn’t matter. Together we get him out of the warehouse and into the back of the van. I sit back there with him. I keep my fingers on the pulse at his wrist and I pray.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

-Angel-

2 months later

            I look around balcony. I think I’ve got everything ready.  There are fat vanilla candles all over the place. There’s a tiny table set for dinner. I had an Italian place that Buffy loves cater.  There’s also a bottle of champagne. I really hope we’ll have something to celebrate tonight. I’ve hidden a portable CD player in a bank of flowers. Music fills the air, but it’s soft, quiet. It’s a CD of Buffy’s, Sarah Mclachlan  I think. Cleveland is cooperating with me. The night sky above glimmers with stars. I look down at myself. I’m wearing the clothes that make Buffy go “all girly” as she says. I’ve got on black pants, a white wife beater and my leather jacket.  I glance at my watch. She should be home any minute now.  I sit in my wheelchair looking out at the night sky and taking deep breaths.

            I hear the door open.

            “Angel,” She calls out.

            “Outside,” I yell back.

            The French door opens behind me and Buffy steps out onto the balcony. She wraps her arms around from behind and kisses my neck.

            “Mmmmm Angel, this is nice.” She says.

            I smile.  “Go sit down at the table.”

            She looks at me questioningly but does as I ask. I roll my wheelchair back a bit and reach over in the corner, where I’ve hidden a cane. It’s actually a really snazzy looking one with a silver wolf head on top. I special ordered it a couple of weeks ago from England. I put the brakes on my wheelchair and look up at Buffy. She has covered her mouth with her hands and her eyes glisten with unshed tears.

            I stand up, leaning on my cane and then straighten. I walk toward her and my steps are solid and normal. I’m not as graceful or agile as I once was. I may never be but I’m walking toward Buffy.

            She’s crying openly by now. Her eyes are the brightest green.

            “Buffy, I love you. I love you now, I loved you 10 years ago, I think I’ve loved you my entire life. I love you in this dimension, I loved you in Hell, I loved you in Pylea and I loved you in another reality and there’s no doubt in my mind, I will love you in Heaven. Please be my wife.”

            She stands up and walks to me. She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my chest, listening to my heartbeat for a moment. I hold my breath. She could say no, she could say she wasn’t done baking yet. I swallow.

            “I was born to be your wife.” She whispers.

            She tilts her face up to mine. I lean over and taste her lips. She tastes like ice cream and chocolate and purity. Her little body presses up against mine. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed feeling the ground underneath my feet tilt when she presses her body the length of mine.  Her lips find the pulse in my neck and kiss it tenderly and nips at it. I groan.

            “Baby, if you keep that up dinner is not going to get eaten.” I growl.

            “To hell with dinner, I’m starving for you.” She whispers in my ear.

            *

            The curtains in the bedroom are flung open. Buffy and I lay in bed watching the sun rise. I run my finger down her nose and bring it to rest on her lips.

            “Where do you want to go for the honeymoon?” I ask.

            She stretches and purrs a little. “I was thinking maybe Rome.”

            “Rome is good.” I say and kiss the crown of her head. I watch as she drifts reluctantly into sleep. She wiggles, trying to keep herself awake.

            “I want to stay awake so this day can keep happening.” She says her voice is heavy with sleep.

            “Sleep, we’ll make another one just like it tomorrow.” I promise, and this time I mean it.

            I watch as she drifts off into slumber. I love watching her sleep. It occupied a huge chunk of my time in Sunnydale. I bury my nose in her hair and close my eyes. What Buffy and I have now is more then happiness, more then love. It’s grace.  It was a hellish road getting here, but I learned something along the way. You can’t work hard enough for grace and you can’t force it, but if you’re really lucky sometimes you’ll stumble into it.

END.