Almost Home

by Jill

Part 9

“Angel I’m the Slayer, I’m strong, remember. Besides, this is my town, my job. I’m responsible for the demons around here.” Buffy shot Angel an exaggerated look. “Don’t treat me like some fragile china … thingy!”

He frowned at her, then ran a hand through his spiky hair, “I don’t. Treat you like a china doll, I mean. But you,” he gestured at her, sitting cross-legged on her bed, in black trousers and a pink shirt, bunny slippers on her feet, “aren’t well.” When he saw her rising a brow, he shook his head, “Not well enough, anyway.”

She sighed, understanding what he tried to do, liking the fact that he was concerned about her. The others always leaned on her, Angel offered his shoulder for her to lean on. It was one of the reason she’d always loved him so … And of course she hadn’t loved this Angel at all. She rubbed her forehead, tried to get rid of the confusion in her mind. How were you supposed to keep the two apart when they looked and felt the same? But now wasn’t the time to be confused about feelings, there was a demon waiting in an old warehouse, and as always duty came first. She’d learned that the hard way – a long time ago.

She suppressed the acid feeling the word ‘duty’ evoked in her, and forced herself to look at him, “I am fine,” she insisted. “True, I’m confused, I even admit that I was … am an emotional wreck. But that doesn’t mean I can’t function as a Slayer. I’m still strong. Maybe even stronger than ever, I can do it.”

Angel stared at her for a moment, then shook his head wearily, “Alright, I can see you are determined to come with us. And if I’ve learned one thing then that it’s no use to try to change your mind if you’ve set it on something.” He saw the beginning of a grin form on her lips, and held up a hand, “But … this is one of Cordy’s visions. Which means it’s my job to deal with it. So I am going to deal with it. You can come, but I have to slay.”

“Agreed,” she replied quickly, glad he’d given in so easily. Angel, her Angel, wouldn’t have. He would’ve argued with her for hours. But maybe this Angel had done some growing up, learned that she could make her own decisions, that she didn’t need anyone to protect her, that they could be equal partners in this. Her Angel hadn’t learned it. It had finally cost his life.

“Fine,” he let out a tired sigh, looked at her from the corner of his eye, “Were they the same in your world?,” he asked. “I mean Cordy and Wes … and,” he stopped abruptly, turned his gaze fully at her, “In your world I never left Sunnydale. What happened to them?”

She smiled and patted the spot beside her. After a short hesitation he joined her and sat down. “Cordy left Sunnydale after graduation,” she told him, glad to feel him beside her. It was so familiar, so soothing, she was tempted to lean her head on his shoulder, take his hand in hers. But because he wasn’t her Angel, she kept her hands to herself, and her head against the headboard. “She went to L.A. I think. We never heard from her again.” She frowned, tried to remember, “Wait, that’s not true. She sent Xander a Christmas card once. Told him she was rich and famous, living in a mansion outside the city. Some guy - he was involved in filming - had offered her a contract.” She chuckled, “She didn’t say it with words, but between the lines we understood that she’d been moving in with him.” Shrugging, she sighed, “Well, that’s Cordy for you. She always managed to fall on her feet somehow.”

Angel thought about a guy and a mansion where Cordy had almost been killed, where he’d saved her life by rescuing her from a vampire in disguise. He wondered if it was the same guy, if he maybe made her a vampire in the other dimension. Probably, he thought, but restrained himself from telling Buffy. She didn’t to know that on top of everything else. She wasn’t responsible for Cordelia, but knowing her, she’d blame herself nevertheless.

“And Wes,” she grinned suddenly, “He wrote Giles a letter that he was re-established with the Watcher’s Council and that he was now one of their vice-presidents.” She’d always thought that kind of career suited the stiff Brit, but seeing him this morning, relaxed, in pants and a shirt, his hair slightly dishevelled, laughing with Cordy and Gunn, she wasn’t so sure anymore. This Wesley certainly was different from the one she’d known, and she found herself actually liking this improved version. She looked at Angel from the corner of her eyes and wondered if he ever realised what an impact his presence in this world had on people. It was not only Wesley. As far as she could see from the short time they’d spoken today, Cordelia had changed, too. And only for the better.

Angel chuckled, “You should tell him one day. I’d like to see his reaction. He might have been in Travers’ place one day. And all he’s got instead is a slightly shady agency, with a vampire, a seer, and a street-guy with an attitude for employees, and a lot of trouble thrown our way.”

“I think he has the better deal,” she replied quietly, earnestly. She saw him smile at her and smiled back. It was downright creepy. They knew each other for not even a day, but were talking like friends, and at least for her he felt as if she’d known him all her life. And somehow, she thought later, this was the reason it just blurted out of her, that she couldn’t stop the words before they were spoken. “Spike was important for me these last months,” she said, her body suddenly tense, afraid how Angel might react to her admission.

She knew that he had avoided the subject for her sake, and maybe even partly for his, but that he hadn’t said anything to give her the opportunity to tell him as soon as she was comfortable. Well, she wasn’t comfortable with it, probably would never be, but it was eating at her, because it was hanging over them like the sword of Damocles.

She saw that his hands clenched and unclenched, and that he took a steadying breath before he said, “Important, how?”

He had to make himself ask the question when all he wanted was to yell and rage. He had to summon the last bit of his self-control to let his voice sound normal and relaxed. But he couldn’t help his hands clenching into fists. He was a vampire, yes, but his very human soul could only take so much. He’d known the subject would come up, had even been tempted to ask her about Spike once last night when they’d talked. But he hadn’t. He knew it was cowardly, but if he could he would’ve preferred  to forget about his grand-childe entirely.

“I … when I came back, when,” she had to wet her lips, they were dry like sand, “Willow brought me into this dimension … Of course I didn’t know then that it wasn’t my world, but still … You cannot imagine how I felt. As if I was pulled into hell. As if … Nothing felt right anymore. They were so proud they brought me back … and Spike … He was the only one I could talk to. I didn’t need to pretend with him. He was evil, I couldn’t hurt him. And … he hadn’t been part of the ‘rescue’-team. He even told me once that he would’ve prevented it had he known. I don’t know if it’s the truth or if it was just an attempt to points with me, but …” She broke off, shook her head, still not really understanding what had been happening to her. Would she ever really understand it, she wondered?

“Why … didn’t you talk to Giles?,” Angel asked, a part of him hating the fact that he needed, wanted, an explanation. He had no right, dammit, but he couldn’t help it. “He wasn’t around either when they brought you back.”

“No, he wasn’t. But …,” she shrugged, “Maybe I felt somehow that he wouldn’t stay. He was … different somehow. Don’t ask me to explain it. I don’t even know if I really felt it or if … Anyways. Somehow I ended up telling Spike all the stuff … And he listened, and he … understood. I think because he is a vampire, because he died, too.”

“That’s different,” he said. “Buffy, waking up as a vampire is painful, it’s confusing, but … you don’t have a soul. You feel free and careless. How could Spike even begin to understand? He’s never had a soul for a single day since he was turned.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” she muttered, but he’d heard her nevertheless. His head snapped around, his eyes even darker than usual.

“What do you mean?”

Again she shrugged, “I don’t know. Spike is … Did Tara tell you he can hit me?” When he nodded, she went on, “He can even bite me. And yet he never made an attempt to kill me.”

“Because he knows you’d kill him the moment he tried,” Angel said darkly. “Buffy, Spike isn’t stupid, at least not as a rule. He’s dangerous. He might seem different sometimes, but deep inside, at his core, there is evil. Period. There isn’t a soul. When it comes down to it, he will only care for himself. Nothing else matters for a vampire in the end.”

“He saved Dru,” she reminded him and when he she saw the confusion in his eyes, she added, “When he performed the ritual all those years ago,” she stopped abruptly, “Did he do it in your dimension?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “He did. And I know what you mean. But Dru is different. She is his sire.”

“I know, but he is different,” she insisted. “He always was. I know he is evil,” she said, when she saw the protest in his eyes, “But Spike is … I don’t know. It might be the chip. Maybe he’s been forced for so long to go against his true nature that he had to adapt. That he had to develop human traits. But anyways,” she took a deep breath, “What I wanted to say is that … I … I enjoyed having sex with him. A part of me anyway. Another part of me was disgusted, tried to stop it, but couldn’t. I even …,” she looked away, casting her eyes to her lap where her fingers were tightly entwined, “I was the one who started it. Yes, he always tried to … but in the end I jumped his bones. He didn’t protest very hard, but still…,” she trailed off, a frown marring her forehead.

She didn’t flinch when she felt his hand enveloping hers. Again, this was so utterly familiar, she wanted to weep. His cool fingers were tracing the lines of her palm, his thumb rubbing the back. She felt as if she was launched back in time, to a place where in her world things had not been perfect, but had been filled with love and hope, even though there had been demons. But with Angel by her side she’d been able to bear it. After his death everything seemed to have lost sense.

“Buffy, you were confused, lost. It’s only human to react that way. Spike is the one to blame, or he would be, was he human. As much as I hate to say it, but for a vampire, his behaviour is understandable.”

She turned her right hand, entwined her fingers with his. “But I couldn’t make it stop. And deep inside I didn’t want to, Angel. When I was with Spike, everything seemed – not better, but at least bearable.”

He hesitated with his next question, scared she might give an answer he couldn’t live with, but in the end he forced himself to ask, “And – now?”

A little laugh escaped her mouth, not actually a happy sound, but not sad either. “Now? I’m not sure, Angel. I still feel … or maybe even more than before, I feel lost. I’m not in my dimension after all. It’s a lot to deal with. But being with you helps, even though you’re not the Angel I remember. You’re funnier, you know. You laugh, you often smile. Angel, my Angel, he rarely smiled. He was always so … serious. So full of grief and pain.”

“I’m still feeling all those things,” he told her, pulling her hand in his lap, “I just learned to cover them up. To live with it. To not let it rule my whole life.”

“I know that,” she said softly, “And I like it. You are … You are like I always wished him to be. I wanted him to learn to deal with  his demons. He didn’t get the chance.” She expected to have to blink tears away, but surprisingly there weren’t any. It was hard to miss someone when he was sitting right beside you. God, this was so strange. How was she ever going to understand this? Without even noticing she was falling hard for Angel – again. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t seen him before yesterday or that they didn’t share memories. Sitting beside him, her hand in his, felt – right. Utterly, completely right. After feeling lost for so long, she finally felt whole again.

Again he had to force himself to ask the next question, “What … uh … what are you going to do with Spike? Now, I mean.”

“I will tell him that we’re over,” she replied without hesitation. She didn’t know how or when it had happened, but slowly the mist in her mind seemed to lift and she had a certain feeling the man beside her was the main reason for her epiphany. She suddenly had no problem anymore to see what she wanted. “It wasn’t a healthy relationship in the first place. It’s suddenly crystal clear for me,” she smiled at him, “I wonder why I didn’t see it before?”

He smiled back, suddenly almost feeling giddy, “Sometimes you need time to figure things out.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. They continued to sit together. They didn’t talk. But it wasn’t necessary. For now, just being together, was enough.

*****

Gunn took the cup of coffee Willow held out for him, and gave her a grateful smile. He was leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, surveying the assembled crowd of people. There were the people he knew and l…iked, Wes, Cordy, Fred. And the others he’d just met, Willow and Tara, the witches – and lovers, Xander and Anya who’d just joined them half an hour ago. Anya was a little weird in his eyes, always letting her gaze travel up and down his body, as if checking him out. It was even weirder because Tara had introduced her as another man’s fiancée. But then, there wasn’t a lot Gunn hadn’t seen in his life, and he grinned inwardly. Having a female looking at you appreciatively … there were certainly worse things to endure.

Like fighting some demons in a basement in the middle of the night, then to drive to a God forsaken town like Sunnydale at dawn, with a cranky Cordy on the back seat, and an ex-watcher behind the wheel who thought going 50 miles was fast. He inwardly shook his head. He’d come a long way from a street kid to this, standing amongst people who every sane being could only describe as weird. Watchers, Slayers, demons, witches. And even the humans could only be described as colourful.

Xander, Anya’s fiancée, was another interesting character, judging the way his eyes had widened the moment he’d spotted Cordelia in the house, and the way she’d rolled hers, when she’d gotten aware of his presence, and Gunn was instantly sure there was more between them. He’d bet a month’s salary that they’d been lovers once, or at least highschool sweethearts. He felt a grin tugging at his lips and quickly lifted his cup to his mouth, covering it effectively. But he almost choked on it when he heard Xander’s next comment.

“You have short hair,” the guy remarked, looking at Cordy, “It sure makes you look older.”

Didn’t Xander know that you didn’t say those things if you wanted to live a nice, quiet life? Maybe he didn’t know Cordelia as well as Gunn had thought.

And of course the brunette’s eyes narrowed instantly, but instead of shouting at him a devilish expression entered them, “At least I have improved. Which is more than I can say of you, Harris.”

Or maybe Xander knew Cordelia a lot better than anyone, Gunn thought. He felt a sharp pang and hated it instantly, because it felt too much like jealousy for his comfort. No way he would feel jealous. Cordy hadn’t given the slightest hint that she might be interested in him, and besides, he’d seen the way Angel had looked at her lately. That look had been completely gone though, this morning. Instead the vampire hadn’t been able to take his eyes from the little blond Slayer, and Gunn knew that whatever Angel might have felt for the brunette, it couldn’t compete with what he felt for Buffy. The connection between vampire and Slayer was almost a palpable thing in the room. No wonder the guy always brooded. No wonder he’d gone to Asia to get over her death.

It must be strange for Angel that she was back now, and yet wasn’t. Gunn had always thought his life was tough, and the night he had been forced to kill his sister, he was convinced that there were not a lot of people who had a worse deal. But Angel certainly topped everything. Not that he didn’t think the vampire hadn’t earned it. Without his soul Angel had killed hundreds, probably thousands of people, but that didn’t mean Gunn wasn’t able to see that the vampire did all he could to make amends.

“Not to mention the fact,” Cordy was continuing, “that you’re working for a construction company and are about to marry an ex-demon. Classy, Xander, very classy.”

“Hey,” Anya yelled.

“I can see how working for a vampire with a soul is so much better than that,” Xander retorted sarcastically, slipping a supporting arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders. Gunn had a feeling they fit perfectly. “Didn’t you leave to become some famous actress?”

“I’m not working for Angel,” the brunette told him. Gunn saw she was severely tempted to throw something at Xander, and stifled a chuckle.

“Not?,” Xander’s brow rose.

It was Wesley’s turn to clear his throat, but before he could say a word, Fred spoke up. “She’s Wesley’s employee. We all are.”

“Wait a moment. Are you going to tell us that Wesley is owning Angel Investigations these days ?” Xander couldn’t stifle the grin that formed on his face. “Ex-watcher, Wes? Oh, I really want to see that.”

“Wesley is a wonderful boss,” Cordy told him. “He’s changed a lot since he left Sunnydale.”

“Thank you, Cordelia,” the man in question said, stepping over to the isle and placing his cup on it. “Yes, indeed Angel Investigations is my business now.” He cleared his throat, “Certain circumstances … Well, there were things happening in L.A.,” he shook his head, “Let’s not get into it. We need to discuss tonight, as soon as Angel comes back down.”

“If he comes down at all. Seems he and Buffy are attached at the hip - again,” Cordy’s voice was acid, and Gunn wasn’t so sure anymore that only Angel had developed certain feelings for the brunette. Cordelia always tried to appear strong and unflappable, but underneath that raw surface she hid a very fragile soul, she protected fiercely. Gunn didn’t know, of course, because for all her bravado she was very hesitant in sharing anything intimate, but he thought it was a good guess that she’d once been hurt deeply. Maybe even by Xander when he was reading the signs correctly.

“I am sure he’ll come down,” Wesley spoke quietly, but firmly, and Gunn chuckled when he saw Xander raise a brow. “I think we have to give him some space. All those news about Buffy…,” he sighed, pulled off his glasses and cleaned them at the hem of his shirt, “It’s quite a lot to digest.” He gave Cordelia a sharp look when he added, “And not only for him.”

It seemed he hadn’t been the only one who’d noticed the change in Cordelia’s and Angel’s relationship, Gunn thought.

She rolled her eyes, “Relax, Wes. I won’t give Buffy a hard time. I can see how shaken she is.” She sighed, ran a hand through her short hair, “I wouldn’t want to be in her place. I still remember waking up in Pylea, believe me I can relate. It might be a kid’s dream to travel through dimensions, but it’s overrated. An I was treated like a princess there.” Sighing again, she reached for her cup, “I wouldn’t want to be in Buffy’s shoes.” She smiled at Wesley and the ex-watcher smiled back.

“Who is that and where did Cordy go?,” Xander asked, looking at her in amazement.

“You might be up for a surprise,” the brunette replied sweetly. “As I said, I have changed.”

“I’m tempted to believe you.”

Gunn chuckled. He might not have wanted to drive to Sunnydale. But maybe it wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

*****

“I don’t like this.” Angel paced Buffy’s bedroom with long strides, glancing at Connor from time to time. The baby was lying in the middle of Buffy’s bed now. He’d been crying in Dawn’s room, and they’d brought him over to feed and change him. Later he’d fallen asleep in Buffy’s arm, a picture Angel would never forget as long as he lived. It was his ultimate dream come true. Buffy sitting beside him, his child in her arms. It was almost perfect. He’d dreamt about it. But in his dreams, the child had been hers, too.

“Angel,” she stood close to her desk, a brush in one hand, “We talked about it. I want to talk to him. I need to talk to him.”

“There is no need,” he insisted stubbornly. She knew it was only out of concern, and she wanted to hug him for it. Still, he had to understand that it was important to her.

“There is,” she replied, and continued to brush her hair. She’d done it in the morning, but Connor had been playing with it before. “I need to talk with Spike face to face. I owe him, Angel.”

He stopped his pacing, ran a hand over his face, “I don’t like it, Buffy. You said he can hurt you. What if-“

“I’m the Slayer, remember? I’m stronger than he. He won’t do anything. He won’t risk it. You said so yourself. Besides … I don’t think he’ll do it anyway. He never tried to hurt me before.“

“You never tested his limits,” he muttered. “Spike can be … difficult when he doesn’t get what he wants. And just to say it. You owe him nothing.”

“But I do. He helped me through a difficult time. I know he didn’t do it for unselfish reasons, but it doesn’t matter. Without him I wouldn’t have made it,” she said softly. “Angel, I’m glad you’re concerned for my sake. But because you care for me, I need you to understand that I have to do it. I started it, I have to end it.”

She saw he was struggling with himself, but finally he nodded, “Alright. But be careful.”

“I will be,” she smiled at him, put her brush down. “I’ll be back in an hour, two hours max. Angel,” she added when she saw the doubt in his eyes, “I’m going to his crypt. It’s daylight. I can leave whenever I want and he can’t follow. It’s perfectly safe.”

“Nothing with Spike is perfectly safe, but I understand. Just be careful, alright?”

“I promise. Thanks for being there for me. It’s … important. More important than you might know.”

He forced himself to smile. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. You don’t know what it means to me.” With a last smile she slipped from the room.

“I know,” he whispered, “because it means the world to me.” But she couldn’t hear it. She was already gone.

Note: I have neither seen the latest Buffy-episodes nor have I read the transcripts. I did that on purpose. I want this chapter to be my personal imagination, not some kind of copy of the stuff happening on TV. So any similarities are only accidental. As this story takes its own turn after “Wrecked” it doesn’t really matter what happens on the show. I will watch the episodes and read the transcripts soon, to be able to continue the “Midnight-series”, but first I have to do this. Enjoy and thanks again for the feedback.

 Part 10

Lilah leaned back in her chair, her fingers busy playing with a pen, she tried her best to act as if nothing was wrong. And silently she was congratulating herself for her performance. Maybe, if Wolfram & Hart ever got tired of her, she could find a new job as an actress. But then the firm usually had its own way to depose former employees which had nothing to do with finding a new profession and all with people disappearing from the face of the earth. There were moments when she envied Lindsey. He had to be the first who left Wolfram & Hart and was still alive. But then she thought about her nice apartment, the money she earned each month, or the car she loved so much, and knew that she had all she wanted – and right this moment even more.

Which brought her attention back to the woman who was standing in a corner of her office, admiring a one million dollar painting. “Now,” she said finally, lifting her eyes to her guest. “I never thought I’d see you again. Not after Darla became dust anyway.”

“I was lonely. With Grandmum gone life is no fun anymore. And Angel was so mean.” Drusilla stepped from the shadows, her raven hair falling almost to her waist, her nails blood red , her lips of the same color, a fascinating contrast to her almost translucent skin. She was a beautiful woman if you could overlook the emptiness in her eyes, and the fact that she was a soulless mass-murderer. Lilah could still remember the panic she’d felt when Angel had shut the door to the wine cellar.

Drusilla sat down opposite to the lawyer and trailed the fingers of her right hand over the flawless skin of her left forearm. “He burnt us. It hurt,” her voice changed into a whine, “And it smelled. I didn’t like the smell. I went to see Spike, but his heart reeks of the Slayer. And his mind is all funny. There is a little chip in his head. And that hurts him when he tries to bite. Aaaand,” she sighed dramatically, “I heard I got a little brother,” her eyes took on a dreamy look, while a pout appeared on her lips, “And it’s not fair of Daddy to keep him away from me. He knows I always wanted a baby.”

Lilah stifled her own sigh. Maybe the firm wasn’t paying her nearly enough for what she had to do. Dealing with Darla had been difficult, before and after she was turned, but at least she’d been sane, as much as a vampire could be called sane anyway, but Drusilla was a completely different matter. She was a vampire, and insane. That could be a lethal combination and Lilah treasured her life far too much to take any risks with it.

“And you came to us, because …?,” she asked after a moment, letting her voice trail off.

She shrank back when the vampire rose from her seat, and leaned over the desk, her eyes darkening, giving the impression that her mind was suddenly far away. “You’re all afraid,” she said, her head swaying from left to right and back, then lolling backward, “Your head is full of fear.”

Lilah couldn’t stop her own eyes from widening. If she’d ever thought the mind-readers the company kept were scary, she’d just learned differently. Of course she’d been reading about Drusilla’s ‘gift’, but for the first time she was seeing it, and being at the receiving end of that gift wasn’t something she found intriguing. She pulled herself together, straightened in her chair, and looked squarely at the vampire, “Nonsense. Why would I be afraid. You came because you want something from me. You’re not going to hurt me.”

Drusilla’s head came up slowly, but there was a knowing smile playing around her lips, when she looked at the lawyer. “Not because of me, silly,” she giggled. “You are right, I’m not going to hurt you. Not now, anyway. I just had myself a nice young lawyer,” she giggled again, her tongue darting out, licking the blood-red lips. “Noooo, you’re afraid of him. Angel. They’re all afraid of Angel. They always were. He was the best. He still would be but now his mind is confused all the time. He doesn’t know who he is, where he belongs. There are two Angels inside of him. And they fight all the time.”

Well, that wasn’t actually news. Lilah faked a yawn, “If you came to bore me, you can leave again.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk,” Drusille lifted her forefinger, wagging it back and forth at the lawyer. “You’re not listening. I’ve been offering you a trade.”

Intrigued, the lawyer leaned forward, “A trade? What kind of trade?”

“Hmmm.” The vampire sat back down, running a hand through her hair, “I know you want my little brother. I could bring him to you.”

Lilah’s stomach flip-flopped at the prospect. Gaining control over Angel’s child, that could be the breakthrough she’d been waiting for all her life. The bosses would bow to her feet. “You were talking about a trade. What do you want in return?”

“Just a little favour. Nothing big.”

“What?” Lilah hated it that her voice sounded sharp, but the anticipation was getting to her. She could hardly wait to get her fingers on the baby.

“That’s for me to know and for you to guess,” the vampire replied cryptically, laughing slightly. It was a sound that sent shivers down the other woman’s spine.

But not under any circumstances she would let the undead see that she was scared spitless. A cool brow rose with long practiced slowness, “Guess? I’m a lawyer. I deal with facts. You have to give me a hint, honey.”

“Honey?,” Drusilla’s eyelashes batted, “Oooooooh,” she crooned, “he used to call me ‘honey’ and ‘luv’ and ‘pet’. He was such a good boy, my Spike. And now his mind is confused with magic.”

“If it’s magic,” Lilah said, faking ignorance, “this should be your department.” Of course she knew exactly what Drusilla was talking about. She wouldn’t be in her current position if she didn’t.

The vampire sighed loudly, then slowly rose from her seat, “That’s the problem, see. I can’t do anything. And it breaks my heart.” The placed her hand over the point where the organ lay still in her chest. “It hurts. He was magnificent once.” She smiled again, giving the lawyer a last glance. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” With that she swept from the room.

Lilah took a deep breath, and put her hands on the surface of her desk, trying to steady them. But the shock sat too deep. She’d never bothered to look into Drusilla’s eyes, not even the night where the vampire had almost killed her, but she had tonight, and it had shaken her to the core. She’d seen vampires. Hell, she dealt with them on a daily basis. It didn’t bother her. But none of them had eyes like the raven-haired beauty.

Her still trembling hands reached for her notebook. She almost ripped out the pages flipping through them, then finally found what she’d been looking for. Dialling a number, she waited for the other party to respond and when she heard a voice at the other side, she let out a breath of relief. “Hello, Clive. It’s good to hear you,” she said. “Tell me, are you still such a hotshot in brain surgery?”

*****

There were several things Buffy had dreaded in her life, the list topped by her walk towards the mansion to confront Angelus, but although this wasn’t nearly as disturbing, it didn’t rank a lot under it either. How did you go and break-up with your lover, she wondered? She hadn’t done it before. All the men in her life had left her. She’d never been forced to say the words, although she knew, with the distance of almost a year, that she’d unconsciously pushed Riley away, leaving it to him to say the final words, sparing herself to be the one to blame.

The cemetery was almost empty. Buffy saw an old woman placing flowers on a grave. Maybe that of her husband. Had they been happy all their life, able to live it together, to enjoy children, grand-children? The woman had difficulties straightening her back, her movements slow, no doubt her joints were aching from arthritis, but right now Buffy envied her tremendously. She remembered a time when she had harboured dreams of a normal life. She chuckled unhappily at her own naivety. God, had she really ever been so young and innocent? Continuing her way to Spike’s crypt she could hardly believe it.

Giles had tried to explain it to her, had tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. Hadn’t wanted to listen. It was understandable, of course. What teenager wanted to hear that because of some sacred duty crap you could never have what all the other people took for granted. None of them knew how lucky they were. Sometimes she wanted to shout at them when they were complaining about their life. Didn’t they see what a precious gift they’d been given. A human life. Love. Children.

There was nothing of it in her life. The man she’d loved had been a vampire who died to save her life. She would never have children. There was no way she was going to make their lives miserable as well. What kind of life would they have with a Slayer for a mother. Besides, there was nobody she could see as the prospective father. The only guy she could imagine had a shaky soul and sperm as dead as his body.

Startled by her own thoughts she stopped, blinking against the sunlight. When had she started to think of the Angel in this dimension in terms of a prospective father, she wondered? She didn’t even know him 24 hours, but already the lines were unclear, already the differences were fading. Plus, she’d seen the way he was acting around Connor. He was a wonderful father. He was acting exactly the way she’d always thought he would. She blinked again. Angel, this Angel, had produced Connor. With Darla. Could it be that he wasn’t just shooting blanks?

Buffy shook her head, barely able to believe her train of thoughts. With a chuckle she continued to walk, her smile fading with every step. There was nothing funny in what she had to do now. Angel might blame Spike for the whole mess, but she knew better. She knew that she was equally responsible. True, she’d been confused, but Spike hadn’t done anything she didn’t want him to. She’d been seeking him out, time and again. And damn, she’d enjoyed sex with him. He was a skilled lover. Not like Angel. Nobody was like Angel. But he definitely knew what to do with a naked woman. And with a not so naked one, too.

He had understood, even if Angel doubted it. But Angel would never trust Spike. Maybe because he knew the difference a soul could make. He couldn’t believe that a soulless demon could be anything but evil, and yet Spike was … different. Yes, he was evil. Buffy was too much the Slayer to delude herself. But she knew him well enough now, to see that there were changes. Angel hadn’t seen Spike for a long time. Not since the chip had been planted in his head and the blond vampire had been forced to suppress his true nature. Buffy knew there was still the demon underneath, but she also believed that Spike really loved her. And that made everything so much worse.

He loved her, at least the way a soulless demon knew to love. And all she’d done was using him. She couldn’t deny that she liked him, but love … She would never love him. Could never love him. Because she would never get over the fact that his soul, his essence, was missing. Deep inside she would always ask herself if his feelings were real, or maybe just an act. And besides, her heart wasn’t free to give. Hadn’t been free ever since she’d met her destiny in a dark alley behind the Bronze.

Again a smile played around her lips. She still remembered his white shirt, the dark jacket. She still had the cross he’d given her.

(( I’m a friend.

   Maybe I don’t need a friend.

   I didn’t say I was yours.))

She’d kept all the things he’d given  to her. She’d even saved the painting Angelus had made one night. After Angel’s death every single thing seemed even more important. She still missed her Claddagh ring, lost in the mansion and never recovered. She had kept Angel’s, lying on the floor in his ashes. She still visited the spot where they had buried them. It was all lost to her now. It had stayed in the other dimension, the one where they thought her dead.

But on the other hand she’d gained something much more precious. Something she still had a hard time believing.

Angel was alive here.

He was alive. She still felt his arms around her, the coolness of his hand enveloping hers. And again the limits were blurring. Did it really matter that this Angel wasn’t the Angel she’d known. This Angel felt familiar to her, she knew the texture of his skin, could see his thoughts in his eyes, could read his body language like no other. They didn’t have to speak to understand each other. Didn’t that mean that they were meant for each other, too? Could it mean that dimensions didn’t matter? Could it even mean that things were meant to happen?

She was afraid to believe it, but could it be that for once the Powers were giving her a second chance? The way they had given it to Angel by bringing him back from Hell? Yes, he had believed that the First Evil was responsible, but Buffy had never believed that version. What would the First Evil gain in bringing him back? No, she was convinced that it was part of something bigger, more important.

She’d been so deep in thoughts that she was almost startled to find herself in front of Spike’s crypt. The door was closed, but her Slayer senses had already picked up the vibes of a vampire inside. Adding the fact that it was bright sunlight out here, she hadn’t expected anything else.

Taking a deep steadying breath, she pushed the door open.

*

“Ah look who’s arrived,” Spike crossed his arms in front of his suddenly surprisingly small chest – she was comparing him to Angel now, something she’d never done before, and smirked, “Am I the lucky guy or what? Both Summers’ girls visiting me on the same day. Maybe I’m blessed.” He wiggled his brows, “Managed to escape the big Poof for a roll in the crypt?”

Buffy ignored his last question for the moment, and concentrated on his first comment, which she didn’t like at all. “Wh-what? Dawn was here? It’s morning. She should be in school.”

“Which seems to be a trait she’s got in common with big sis,” the vampire replied, leaning one shoulder against the wall, while his eyes were wandering appreciatively up and down her body. “If I remember correctly you weren’t quite the schoolgirl either.”

She let that go, and took a deep breath. No reason delaying the reason why she’d come in the first place. “I have to talk to you.”

A brow rose, “Really? That’d be a first. Usually you just jump my bones.”

He tried to sound cool and unaffected, but Buffy could hear the hidden bitterness underneath and hated it. Hated to know she was responsible for it. He might be a vampire, and according to Angel he might be evil, but she hated that she’d hurt him. Used him. “Unfortunately I can’t argue the point. Though I wish …,” she sighed, and stepped fully into the crypt. In passing she switched off the television where some soap opera flickered over the screen. Maybe she should’ve left it on, she thought. It would have fitted as a background to what she had come to do.

“So, talk,” he offered. “But make it short. I’ve got an itch to scratch.” To emphasise his point, he let a hand trail over his fly where Buffy could clearly see the outlines of his arousal.

Again she wetted her dry lips, before she was able to speak, “No,” she said, cursing her voice for betraying her nervousness. She cleared her throat, “I didn’t come for … it.”

“You didn’t?,” the other brow came up as well. “You know, I don’t care. Because I sure as hell want you. And after all that’s happened, I think I’ve got a right to get my way for a change.” He pushed himself off of the wall and advanced her, but stopped when she held up a hand.

“Don’t,” was all she said, but the warning in her voice was unmistakable. “We are going to talk. Or rather, I will talk. I came to tell you that … that this is over. We’re over. I can’t do this anymore. It’s … it’s wrong, and-“

She wasn’t able to finish, because he interrupted her, his eyes blazing fire, “Oh, no, honey. It doesn’t happen that way. You can’t just come around and tell me it’s over. I’m not going to let you treat me like a dog you scratch if you’ve got an itch, and who you kick if you don’t need him. Not anymore, luv.”

Her eyes filled with tears at his words, knowing that at least partly they were true. She hated herself for it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, backing away towards the door, “I never wanted to … I’m  sorry I hurt you.”

“Yeah?,” he asked, his voice cold and bitter, his lips drawn into a sneer. “Honey, I don’t care if you’re sorry. You can’t hurt me, remember. I’m a soulless vampire. We don’t feel.”

“Spike, don’t,” she pleaded hoarsely.

“Don’t, what?,” he spat. “Don’t tell you the truth? Don’t make you feel bad? You used me, Slayer. I was your escape from a reality you couldn’t face. You had a great time when I fucked you. You were all over me, pet. And don’t even try to deny it, because-“

“I don’t.” She would never deny it. How could she?

He went on as if she hadn’t said a word, “-it’s the truth. And I’ll be damned if I let you run over me again. Just because the big poof decides to drag his ass into town you hear harps playing.  Not this time, honey. Not ever again.”

And without any warning he launched himself at her, slamming her against the wall of his crypt, he started kissing her brutally, bruising her lips, shoving his tongue into her mouth. He was mindless, and Buffy could feel the hurt in him, could feel it in the way his hands were tearing at her clothes, were ripping apart her shirt, the buttons flying through the room.

Somewhere deep in her mind she knew she should fight him, shouldn’t let him do this, but she couldn’t. It was as if she was watching one of his beloved soap operas, a shell participating in some tragedy that wasn’t real. And when she felt him entering her with brutal force, she arched her back, and let herself fall into oblivion.

 Part 11

Angel felt restless when he entered the Summers’ living-room some hours after Buffy had left the house. She’d said two hours max. But the time had long passed and she still hadn’t returned. Once again he cursed his existence that made it impossible for him to follow her, to assure himself she was alright. He shouldn’t worry, he knew, she was the Slayer after all. She was strong. But he did worry. He couldn’t help it.

The problem was he knew Spike, knew all about his childe’s twisted mind, and he knew the state Buffy was in. Regarding all this, he was wondering that he could still act so reasonable.

He was just discussing if he should pat his own shoulder for his performance, when he stopped in the doorway, his eyes falling on Cordelia who was sitting on the sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine that lay in her lap.

“You can come in, you know,” she said without looking up. “I don’t bite,” she added, then frowned at her  own lame joke.

“Where are the others?,” he asked.

“Fred went with Willow to the mall. I think the two really hit it off.” She closed the magazine, put in on the table before her, and finally looked at him. “Wes went to the Magic Shop with Xander and Anya. Not a moment too early, if I may add.” She sighed, “Wes wants to research the vision, to have us prepared. And Gunn,” she sighed again, “I think he felt caged in and had to get rid of his energy.”

Angel nodded, crossed the room and sat down, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands dangling between them, he couldn’t stop his fingers playing nervously with each other.

“This is ridiculous, you know.”

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and for a moment he just stared at her. “What?”

“You’re here not even 24 hours, and she isn’t really Buffy, but you’ve got the Buffy-face already.”

He frowned, “Buffy-face? Cordy, you-“

She held up a hand, “No, don’t even try to deny it. I’ve been there for the whole Buffy and Angel drama. I know a Buffy-face when I see it. And besides, you’ve been looking at the clock three times since you came in a minute ago. Want to tell me why?”

Angel closed his eyes for a moment. His friends knew him far too well for his peace of mind. Looking back at Cordelia, he sighed, “Alright. Yeah, I’m concerned.”

“Why?,” she asked. “Buffy is the Slayer. Or is there something we all don’t know?”

“Cordy, can’t you just let it go?,” he pleaded.

“Honestly? No. Angel, I don’t like to see you getting all worked up. You were fine, before you left L.A. You were smiling, laughing, joking. I know that part of it wasn’t really you, but still. But the moment I walked in here this morning, I could see it.”

Because she let it hanging in the air, and because if he didn’t ask he’d have to worry about Buffy again, he asked, “See, what?”

“Brooding,” she replied, giving him a ‘duh’ look. “The dark, heavy cloud hanging all over you. You even,” she gestured at his burgundy shirt, “wear your old clothes again.”

Thank God for that, Angel thought, but didn’t tell her. Cordelia had chosen one of his new sweaters and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. She would never understand that pale peach just wasn’t his colour.  At least he didn’t think so anymore. The day she’d brought the piece to him, he had smiled and hugged her. It seemed that Buffy’s presence in his life had caused more than just one epiphany.

Coming back from his musings he found Cordy watching him, and he shifted in his chair, folding his hands in his lap, “I know you are concerned. But I need to do this. And she needs me. None of you have even the slightest idea how it feels to come back from death. But I can. Because I’ve been there. Granted, it is not the same, but it’s certainly better than nothing. I know you never were friends, but did you look at her this morning, really look at her?”

The brunette gave him a long, scrutinizing look, then finally let out a loud breath, throwing her hands in the air, “Fine. Fine. I admit it. She didn’t look good. And I don’t talk about her clothes, well, let’s not go there. I can see that this is no time to talk about fashion. You are right, she seems tired, and her eyes,” she shook her head, “I never really paid attention, mind that,” she grinned when Angel gave her a small smile, “but, she was an almost worthy opponent once. While now … I think I could walk right over her and she wouldn’t even notice.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Cordy. She’s still strong.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s not what I mean, I-“

“I know,” he smiled, then grew serious again, “So you have seen what I’m talking about. She is … I never saw her like this before. Not even when her mother died. She was grieving then, hurting badly, but this,” he shook his head wearily, “I hope I’ll be able to help her at all.”

“Just don’t forget that there’s a demon waiting for you tonight.”

He saw the concern in her expression, and a warm feeling flooded him. It was so good to know they cared for him. So important. It gave him the strength to do what he had to. Made him feel less lonely. Made him able to live with a big emptiness in his life, to live without Buffy. Day after day. Night after night. Although he had no idea how he’d manage after seeing her again, and seeing how much she needed him. And, he didn’t kid himself, how much he needed her.

He reached out and took Cordy’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze, then letting it go again, “I won’t, I promise. And Buffy will be with me. Everything will be okay.”

*****

Buffy realised three things at the same time when she woke up. The first was that she was lying on the hard floor of Spike’s crypt, the second when she opened her eyes was the vampire lying beside her, and finally that they were both not wearing any clothes. Somehow during the hours of animalistic rutting – and there was no other way to describe what had just happened – Spike had managed to get rid of his own clothes. Buffy could see his pants hanging from the television, his shirt lying near by, while her own things were scattered all over the crypt, most of them ripped apart, proof of the vampire’s initial anger.

A part of her had wanted to fight him, but another part, the part who felt disgusted with herself, with the situation, and with the fact that she let a soulless demon fuck her, had not been able to. And there was another, not so tiny part, that felt she owed him. She had used him. Plain and simple. She had known he loved her. It hadn’t really mattered. Well, maybe it had mattered, in an unconscious way she wanted to believe that the love he insisted to feel had made her finally give in, and not because she thought she didn’t earn anything better, that a soulless demon was the kind of lover that fitted her. The first would at least save a little part of her self-respect.

Although right now she wasn’t sure if it really mattered anymore. Right now all she wanted was vomit. She wanted to retch out her guts, hoping it would clean her inside out, yet knew it would be in vain. Before things had been bad enough, but now, they were worse. Because she had told Angel she would go and talk to Spike. He had voiced his concerns and she’d waved them away.

Oh God. Angel.

God, he would be so disappointed seeing her like this. Maybe he would even hate her, and he would be right doing so. How could he ever love a person who did the things she had done. A person he could love wouldn’t fuck her brains out with an evil vampire.

With a sob she scrambled to her knees, reaching for her torn clothes, she tried to pull them on, tried to arrange them so that they would at least cover her. Silent tears were streaming down her face, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. Maybe this was another way to feel clean again. God, she wanted a shower. She wanted to scrub herself clean, wanted to get rid of her skin, wanted to-

“You alright, luv?”

Killing a vampire didn’t sound so bad right now, either. But somehow she didn’t even find the strength to do that. Besides, he hadn’t earned it. Okay, so he had, but for killing humans, not for fucking a Slayer who hadn’t offered any resistance. But as weary as she felt, one thought was perfectly clear in her mind. A fierce determination, not to ever let it happen again. She turned to look at him, and the moment her eyes met his, she saw he knew it, too.

“It’s over,” she said, and there was no emotion in her voice, while she tried desperately to hold the edges of her torn shirt together, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the idea of him seeing her naked. It was utterly ridiculous. He’d seen every inch of her, but right now it didn’t matter.

He was staring up at her, completely unconcerned of his nakedness, “I know.” He reached for his shirt, pulled a cigarette from the breast pocket and lit it. Usually she didn’t mind him smoking, didn’t mind the smell of cigarettes on him. Today it made her nauseous.

“I’m … uh-“

He chuckled humourlessly, “Don’t say you’re sorry. We both know you are not. And we also know it’s because of him.”

“No.” Her denial was quick and sharp, but she had to avert her eyes. Spike knew her only too well. He’d always been a master in reading her, in uncovering the feelings she tried to bury deep inside. When she looked back at him, she saw his raised brow, and let out a weary sigh, running a hand through her hair, “Yes,” she admitted finally, “You are right. At least partly. Angel is responsible for this, but not the way you think. We aren’t back together or something, but he made me see that this is wrong.”

“I see.” Spike nodded, blew a cloud of smoke in the air. “Well,” he shrugged, “We both knew it wouldn’t last.”

She bit her lower lip, “I guess. Yeah. It wasn’t right of me to do this. It wasn’t fair.”

“Don’t worry, luv,” he replied, a leer creeping up his face, “I got my share out of it.” He wiggled his brows to emphasise his point.

Her eyes narrowed at that. In this moment she hated him. Of course she was hating herself more, but she didn’t realise it right now, all she could see was that he was grinning at her, while she felt as if she was ripped apart. “That’s good for you,” she said. “I hope you realise that half of the time when I closed my eyes, I was pretending it was someone else.” She hadn’t wanted to say it. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew they were true. She had tried to pretend he was Angel. Not all the time, but very often.

For a moment she saw hatred flicker through his eyes, but he covered it quickly. He shrugged again, took another drag from his cigarette, “As I said, it doesn’t matter. You aren’t the first who thought that way. And I got my share. I got to fuck a Slayer. Don’t think there are a lot of us around who can say that. Might even be enough to let them overlook my little problem.”

She reached for her keys she saw lying on a tomb, “Don’t ever come near me again,” she warned him, but didn’t look at him. “If you ever try, I’m going to kill you.”

He was quiet for a moment, and when she turned back to him, she saw that he was pulling on his pants. “I didn’t rape you,” he said. “You wanted it.”

“I know,” she said quietly, pulling the door open, “But it doesn’t change anything. Stay away from me. And stay away from Dawn. I don’t want you around us anymore. I cannot force you to leave town, but I think it would be best.” Without another look, she left the crypt.

*****

Angel could feel the sundown coming, when the door finally opened. He already knew it was Buffy, had felt her even before she’d entered the house.

He’d been ready to tear something apart, worry and frustration eating at him, and the fact that Cordelia was still sitting beside him, flipping through another magazine, and sighing from time to time didn’t really help to make him feel better. He had been about to ask her if there was nothing else she had to do, when Buffy arrived.

He was about to relax, releasing an unneeded breath of relief, when his senses perceived a smell, his mind refused to accept. But as much as he wanted to deny what his nose told him, it became brutal reality the moment Buffy came into view.

She was clutching her shirt in front of her chest, the material was torn at her right upper arm, her pants had several tears as well. Her hair was dishevelled, and Angel instantly saw the bruises on her face and neck. His hands clenched into fists.

From the corner of his eye he saw Cordelia was staring at Buffy as well, and the moment she had taken in the blonde’s appearance, the brunette gasped. “Oh my God, Buffy.” She jumped up from the sofa, rushed to the Slayer’s side. “What the hell happened to you. Were you attacked by some demon?” She reached out to touch a colourful bruise on Buffy’s arm, and Angel saw the blond flinch. “You should have gone to a doctor.”

“No.” Buffy’s voice was hoarse, and Angel saw the traces of tears on her face as soon as she turned her head. “I’m fine. Really, Cordy. I’m just going to change my clothes and use some antiseptic and I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want me to help you? Because I’m doing that kind of stuff all the time. You cannot imagine how Angel …,” she trailed off, giving vampire and Slayer a sheepish smile. “Well, it’s not really important, is it? The point is, I know what to do.”

“Thanks, Cordy, but I’ll manage.”

“Okay. You can call me if you should need me,” the brunette offered with a smile.

Angel had followed the exchange with growing tension, and by now a red mist of rage was swimming before his eyes. He was hardly able to contain himself anymore, but with great difficulty he managed to let his voice sound almost normal. “Cordy, would you please leave us alone. I need to talk to Buffy.”

“Talk to Buffy?,” the brunette asked incredulously. “Surely that can wait. Don’t you see the state-“

“Cordelia, please.” His voice was still controlled, but he knew that Cordy had no problem to hear the steel in it.

“I don’t think-“

“Not now.” This time his voice was a low growl, and after a moment of hesitation the brunette rolled her eyes and disappeared into the kitchen.

Buffy was still clutching her torn shirt to her chest, but tried to summon a shaky smile, “I … uh … ran into some trouble.” She nodded at her clothes, trying to make light of the whole situation. No way she wanted Angel to know what just had happened. But she should have known that the attempt to hide something from him was in vain.

“Don’t,” he growled, his face a stony mask of controlled fury. Buffy almost took a step back. She’d never seen him that way before.

“Don’t, what?,” she asked, “Angel, I-“

“Don’t do it,” he warned again. “Don’t think I’m a fool. I can Smell Spike all over you. And I’m not as easily fooled as Cordelia. I know those bruises are not the result of some demon attack.”

She gulped, and felt her stomach clench painfully. “Angel … I … please, I can explain.”

“Explain?,” he echoed. “Explain, what? That you slept with Spike?” His voice rose at the last words, and he clenched his fingers even harder, the knuckles turning white.

“I …,” she started, but didn’t know how to go on. She saw the raw pain beneath the fury in his eyes, and knowing she had caused it, she felt like slapping herself. “I …,” she tried again, “It’s … I … I hurt him and … he just … he … he didn’t rape me.”

“I know,” he replied, his words harsh. “Believe me, you don’t smell like a woman having been raped. But what do you mean by you hurt him? Buffy he is a vampire. A vampire without a soul. You cannot hurt him. At least not the way you can hurt someone who has a soul. He is a master of mind-games, I have to give him that. Don’t you see what he did? He has you so confused, he even made you feel sorry for him. He made you feel guilty for something that damned as Hell is his fault. You were hurting. You were confused. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

She blinked, not quite able to process his words, then shook her head, “No. Spike … he has changed and-“

“Don’t tell me anything about changes. I know about his chip. He cannot hunt. Don’t expect me to feel sorry for him because of it. He killed more people you can imagine, and he did it with a smile on his lips. He enjoyed it. He doesn’t feel bad about it. He doesn’t lose sleep over any of them. He. Doesn’t. Care. He might not kill because he can’t, but a chip is no soul. Don’t confuse them. And don’t confuse him with me. He’s nothing like I am.”

“I know that,” she defended herself, wiping tears away that were falling freely. “But I … it was the last time. It just … happened.”

“Yes. It did. And you didn’t even try to stop it,” he shot back, feeling like a heel for hurting her, but the rage in him was so boiling hot, he was barely able to keep his demon in check.

Angel knew he was behaving irrational, knew he had absolutely no right to act like this. All Buffy had done was end a relationship that never should’ve started. In order to do it, she’d slept with her lover of the past months. Intellectually Angel knew it was only natural, that break-ups happened that way all the time. It had been sex, nothing else. Besides, he and this Buffy weren’t lovers, had never been. They had no past together, and maybe not a future either. They were … hell, he didn’t even know what they were right now. He’d thought, hoped, they could become friends. Right now, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

She stood before him, with tears in her eyes, waiting for him to say something, maybe waiting for his absolution. But as much as he wanted to give her exactly what she needed, he didn’t find the strength inside of him. He couldn’t feel anything but the burning rage that had started to built the moment he’d smelled Spike all over her. He knew he should say something, but all he could do was stare back.

Several times he cleared his  throat, but the words just wouldn’t come. He saw her tears fall and a part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her, while the other only wanted to rip her clothes apart and prove her that she was his, then go out and find the one who’d done this to her, and stake him on the spot.

God! He was going to lose it.

He turned away from her, tried to get a grip on himself. His fingers were numb, they were clenched so tightly. He didn’t feel any of it.

“I’m sorry,” he heard her whisper. “I know I owe you an apology. You trusted me and I …”

An apology? Did she really think this was about apologies? They were the last thing on his mind. Although he wasn’t so sure anymore. Right now, he wasn’t sure of anything. He only felt the rage, the fury, and knew that the moment he let lose he would come undone. So he didn’t react to her words the way she needed it, instead he shrugged, “You owe me nothing.”

“I …,” he heard her hesitate, then continue, “I … didn’t plant to … I mean, I never intended to have sex with Spike – again. Or ever, for that matter.

“It’s your life,” he replied, glad his voice sounded normal. Wasn’t he a master of disguise, he thought disgustedly.

“We’re over,” she said, stepping closer. He felt his back tense and she stopped, obviously aware that he didn’t want her near him right now. “I mean … Spike and I … It won’t happen again.”

She sounded so lost, so scared, and he didn’t have the heart to yell at her, tell her what he thought about that kind of break-up. “I’m glad,” he managed. “If for nothing else, I’m glad for you. He isn’t good for you.”

“I … I know that now. But …”

From the corner of his eye he saw her shrug, a helpless lifting of shoulders, her hands silently reaching out for him. He should turn and take them. But he couldn’t. He could only think that those hands had stroked Spike only hours ago, that they had touched the bleached blond vampire intimately. He didn’t trust himself to touch her, afraid he might lose control, do things, that would be unforgivable later. Still, he realised he had to say something , anything and so he opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the doorbell rang.

They both flinched at the sound, but then Buffy pulled herself together and went to answer it. Angel heard her gasp and looked up. The sight of Riley Finn standing there was like the final blow. No longer trusting himself, Angel gave Buffy and her guest a long measuring look, and without another word left the house.

 Part 12

“What the Hell is he doing here?”

Buffy knew that Riley had spoken, she’d even heard the words, but she was still too busy staring tearfully at Angel’s retreating form, to react. When she was finally able to tear her gaze away from the darkness that had just swallowed the angry vampire, she stepped back from the door, but didn’t do anything to invite Riley in, just left the door ajar, and walked back into the living-room, knowing her ex-boyfriend would follow her anyway. When she heard his steps behind her, she said, “I could ask you the same question. Last time I saw you, you were leaving for Belize, because I didn’t love you enough.”

“Yes, I did, and judging from what I saw only a moment ago, it wasn’t a day too early.”

She sighed loudly. She was too tired for this. And she felt too broken by Angel’s sudden departure, and by her recent encounter with Spike. All she wanted was to get rid of her torn clothes, burn them, and then to scrape her skin raw to at least get rid of Spike’s scent, if she wasn’t able to get rid of the nausea that was now attached to his very name. Would she ever feel clean again, she wondered?

She looked up and found Riley watching her. He looked the same she remembered him. Or had he gained weight? Was he taller than usual? No, grown up men didn’t just add some inches. Maybe she was just feeling so small right now. Probably. She felt small and dirty, and in no state to have a deep conversation with a man she hadn’t seen for almost a year. “Riley,” she spoke his name on a weary sigh. “Why did you come?”

She saw him taking a deep breath, then combing a hand through his short hair. He was wearing army fatigues, and Buffy realised that he might have come in official business.

“Is there an apocalypse we didn’t notice?,” she asked, only partly interested. An apocalypse, the idea of sudden death, was momentarily not such a bad idea.

He chuckled then, and shook his head, “No. No Armageddon. But we are on our way to a mission to Alaska. We are staying in L.A. for a few days and I thought it was a good idea to come and see you. For closure, you know.”

She raised a brow, a ridiculous part of her almost disappointed that he hadn’t come to ask for another chance, before she reminded herself that this Riley had never been her boyfriend at all. God, this was weird. She didn’t belong here, but with each passing second she more and more felt like it. She was slipping into the role of the ‘belonging’-Buffy without really noticing it.

“I see,” she replied coolly, clutching her blouse a little bit tighter. No way this Riley was ever going to see her private parts. One of them intimately acquainted to her was more than enough. Not even mentioning an evil vampire who was probably raging through his crypt right now.  At least he couldn’t harm anyone. Buffy had never been so glad about the chip than she was right now. “So you came to see me, to assure yourself it was the right – decision?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he admitted, again running a hand through his hair. He nodded at her, “What happened to you? Met an angry demon?”

What had she ever seen in him, she wondered. He’d been her boyfriend of one year and her swollen, bruised lips told him nothing? Okay, she hadn’t actually seen if her lips were swollen, but they pretty much felt like it. “Yeah, something like that.” She shook her head, “Look, Riley, I really need to change and have a shower. Why don’t you sit down and … I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He nodded, “Sure,” he gave her a smile. “I’ve got time. Don’t hurry. I can just,” he gestured at the table, “read some stuff.”

Buffy followed his look, saw Cordy’s fashion magazine, and stifled a grin that was tugging at her lips. “Fine. I’ll be back.” Glad to escape to the privacy of her own bedroom she would’ve run up the stairs, but her aching thighs, another part of her that was bruised by Spike’s angry possession, weren’t obeying. She had to stifle several groans while she was climbing. She just hoped she wouldn’t meet anyone else on her way. She was in no mood to explain Dawn her present condition.

*****

Angel ran through the night like a man possessed. Or a demon possessed which was undoubtedly worse. He could feel the demon roaring inside of him, raging himself into a frenzy at the thought that his childe had dared to touch his mate. It had been bad before, but actually smelling Spike’s scent on her … He had to get out of the house, or he might have ripped Riley apart, only because the guy had been Buffy’s lover once. It would’ve certainly helped to ease his fury, but once regaining some sort of sanity again, Angel knew he wouldn’t have forgiven himself for it.

Although, right this moment, he wasn’t sure that sanity existed at all. At the moment sanity was so far from his mind, he wasn’t sure it would ever return. How could there be sanity somewhere while he felt like a bit, bleeding, hurting mass. If someone asked him right now, he wouldn’t be able to tell if he had still hands or legs. He was moving, sure, but for all he felt, there could be wheels underneath his body.

Nothing seemed to matter anymore, and for a moment Angel wanted to be a werewolf to be able to stop and howl at the moon, to scream out his rage and pain, to clean himself inside out. Bile burnt like acid in his throat, and Angel knew that something like this could only be triggered by the twisting knots in his gut, because as a vampire had no circulation, there was no bile produced in his liver.

God, how could he ever live again, could trust himself to touch someone as innocent as Connor when he had lost it that way? He’d thought after the disaster with Darla that nothing could throw him anymore, that he had learned once and for all that going into a frenzy didn’t help anybody. But all reason had fled the moment his nightmares became reality.

Yes, he was angry at Buffy for giving in, for letting Spike do that to her, but that anger was nothing compared to the rage he felt that the vampire had taken advantage of her. Or that Buffy had been so desperate to let him do it in the first place. What must have happened to her to break her spirit, her self-esteem, that she let a soulless vampire degrade her, use her, make her a victim.

Angel was old enough, had seen enough, to know that there was no love between Buffy and Spike. His grand-childe might be claiming to love the Slayer, but Angel knew better. He had claimed love, too, while he was without his soul, had been sure he loved Buffy, but Angel with his soul knew better.

Darla had been shocked to hear he had never loved her, but how could he. Without a soul, without a human essence, there was no love possible, just instincts, and needs, and maybe memories of a time where human emotions were ruling your mind instead of a demon’s twisted feelings. She had claimed to love him. The way Spike claimed to love Buffy. Which only proved Angel’s theory. Vampires were talking about love, convincing themselves they were in love, but it wasn’t real. Could never be real.

In the end, so Angel liked to think, Darla had understood. She had insisted it was only Connor’s presence in her womb, that made her feel that way, but Angel wasn’t so sure of it. He had seen first hand what a child could do to you, what kind of feelings it could arouse. They were so powerful, so profound, maybe not even a vampire could resist them. If a father could feel the way he did, what feelings might a mother have who felt the child long before the father could ever touch it? He was convinced that somewhere, deep down, maybe because she’d had a recent setback to humanity, Darla had loved Connor. Hadn’t she given her life so he could live? But even if it was a lie, even if she’d been right, he would tell Connor only the good things, would tell him that his mother had loved him, despite all.

He thought he’d been running wild, without destination, but the moment he turned around the next corner he saw the gates to the cemetery, and knew that unconsciously he’d been going to Spike’s crypt. Willow had told him where the blond lived. It was already dark outside, so he had no way of knowing if his childe was still there. But at least he had a point to begin with. He could take his scent and …

Angel stopped, taking a deep breath, realising how badly his hands were still shaking. If he met Spike right this moment, he would stake him without a second thought. After beating him up of course. The blond hadn’t earned to die quickly. Maybe he could just take him prisoner, and torture him for days, just for the fun of it. And then when Spike begged him, he would kill him. By pouring Holy Water over him, or burn him. A stake was too easy. Right now, Angel wanted to see Spike die. Slowly. Painfully.

He took another deep unnecessary breath, remembering Cordy’s vision in a flash of returning sanity.

**Glad it still exists after all.**

Wiping his shaky palms on his pants he turned away from the cemetery. Maybe if he’d just run around for an hour or so, it would be enough to keep himself in check for another while. Then he would return to Buffy’s house, meet his friends, slay the demons, and hopefully tired from the fight, he’d be able to deal with this rationally. And that was the same moment he saw the door of a shady bar open, a figure came stumbling out, a bottle dangling from his hand, and his bleached blond hair gleaming in the moonlight.

*****

Riley had reached the third round of trying to remember the names of all his classmates in highschool when he heard a noise from the doorway, and found his gaze landing on a striking brunette, with a fashionable haircut, and equally fitting clothes. She was looking at him curiously, but there was also annoyance in her eyes. One of her delicate eyebrows rose and Riley shot from his chair, remembering the manners his mother had more or less successfully tried to teach him.

“Hello there,” the woman’s voice was melodic, appealing, and she held out a perfectly manicured hand for him, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Cordelia Chase.”

Taking her hand, the commando gave her what he hoped was a charming smile, “Riley Finn. Nice to meet you.”

Her other brow rose as well, her gaze wandering up and down his form as if assessing a slave on a market. In the end she nodded once, “Ah. The Ex. I see.” She pulled her hand from his grasp, “I’m a former highschool classmate of Buffy’s. And I have to say that I never thought you were … well, the way you are.”

Riley couldn’t help but wince at that, “Is that a compliment … or not?”

The corners of her mouth lifted into a smile, but before she could reply, there were footsteps on the stairs and a moment later Dawn stood in the doorway. “Cordelia, do you know what happened to Buffy. I knocked at her-“ Suddenly becoming aware of the commando’s presence the girl paused, and to Riley’s utter surprise her expression cooled visibly. “Hi, Riley,” she said finally, not smiling at him.

“Dawn,” his own smile was broad and warm. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” she defensively crossed her arms before her chest, “At least one of us is happy to see the other. That’s not bad.”

Riley was completely taken aback by her hostility, and not sure what to say, he smiled again, “You have grown. And you’ve become more beautiful, if that was even possible.”

In response she rolled her eyes and groaned, “Oh please. You never paid attention before. And I’m not beautiful. My breasts are too small, and I have a zit right here on my nose,” she uncrossed her arms, pointed at the spot in her face. “So save your flattery for someone who actually wants to hear it.”

Again he couldn’t believe his ears. Granted, he and Dawn hadn’t been close, but if nothing else they’d been friendly to each other, and Riley could say without hesitation that he genuinely liked Buffy’s little sister. “Dawn, I-,” he started again, but she held up a hand.

“No. Save it.” And suddenly without warning, her face crumpled, “If it wasn’t f-for you, Buffy w-would still be there. It’s … it’s all your fault,” she shouted at him between sobs, then turned and ran back up the stairs.

Riley stared at the spot she’d been standing only a moment ago, and shook his head, “What the hell was this?”

“I don’t know her so well,” Cordelia replied, crossing her own arms, “But I could make a guess and say she’s pissed at you.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I’ve noticed that. I just can’t understand why? I never … I mean we never had problems. I always liked her. And I thought she liked me, too.”

The brunette shrugged, “Well, teenagers. If you ask me, they don’t know half the time what they’re saying. They’re raging hormones held together by unclean skin and complexes.”

Riley couldn’t help but smile at the comment, and dismissed Dawn’s behaviour for now. Maybe he’d get a chance to talk to her later. But then he remembered one of his comments. “What did she mean by ‘If it wasn’t for me, Buffy would still be here’? Buffy is here, or did I just have some wacky hallucination?”

“No,” Cordelia shook her head, then with a dismissive gesture of her hand wiped the subject away. “It’s a long story. Maybe someone will tell you. I’m too tired right now, and also a little bit too occupied. Damn, Angel, where are you?,” she spoke to herself now, and Riley flinched when he heard the vampire’s name, “It’s dark outside already.” She turned to the commando, “That’s just so typical of him.”

Not quite sure what to say, Riley decided to say nothing at all, just cleared his throat, when the front door opened and he heard Willow’s familiar voice.

“Well, that was fun. I’m sure I’ve gained two pounds. Do you always eat so much ice-cream?”

Her red hair came into view, and she stopped in the doorway, a young woman with long brown hair, he’d never seen before, right behind her. “Willow,” he greeted her, and smiled.

Her eyes widened in surprise, “Riley?”

“Riley?,” the other woman asked.

“Oh, sorry.” Willow shook her head slightly, then introduced the two strangers. “So,” she asked finally, glancing at Cordelia who was staring out of the big living room window, no doubt trying to see a glimpse of something Riley didn’t care to meet again, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Buffy,” he replied without hesitation. It was no secret, he had nothing to hide. He’d come to see his former girlfriend, had expected to talk to her, laugh a little bit with her friends, but right now the whole thing was turning into something awkward. Buffy had fled the room to change clothes that barely covered her, and with the exception of Cordelia, who more or less ignored him now, the people who he once believed to be his friends, were treating him like an outcast. Okay, so that would maybe stretching it a little, but they were not friendly either. Only another indication that he had never really belonged to them.

“Buffy?,” Willow raised a brow. “Whatever for? You left her almost a year ago. You never wrote. Not even after her mom died.”

That shot through him like fire, and his genuine shock showed on his features, “What?,” he asked breathlessly, felt his knees start to tremble. “Joyce is dead?”

“Yeah,” the witch tilted her head, “Didn’t you know?”

“No,” he ran a shaky hand through his hair. Joyce was dead. He remembered her smile, her laughter, the way her eyes always took on a concerned expression when Buffy left the house after dark. And he also remembered her support for his relationship with her daughter. God, she had been barely over forty. She couldn’t be dead, could she? “What happened?,” he heard himself ask, barely recognizing the hoarse voice as his own.

“She had brain surgery, you remember?” Willow said. “All seemed fine. But then an aneurysm ruptured in her brain.” She had to swallow, “Buffy … Buffy was the one who found her. Dead.”

“Oh God, Buffy,” Riley whispered, feeling shaky all over. He took a step back and sat down, running both hands through his hair, then over his face. “When?”

“Not long after you left. It was a lot to take in for her. And on top of it Glory,” Willow shook her head, “Well, it was a lot.”

“But she came through,” it was more a statement than a question. “She always comes through.”

“Actually-“ the redhead started to say, when once again the door burst open, and Xander’s loud voice boomed through the house.

“God, Wes, you drive even worse than Giles. He had that really pretty new car, but he still drove it the way he drove his old Citroen.”

“That’s because like Rupert I like to live a little while longer, and preferably not in a wheelchair. I had the experience before, and believe me it’s enough,” the voice of a stranger replied.

“Do tell,” Riley heard the grin in Xander’s voice and a smile tugged at his own lips as well. Xander Harris had always been his friend, maybe his only real ally during the final weeks of his and Buffy’s doomed relationship. “Are you going to tell me you were hurt doing something heroic?”

“As a matter of fact, he saved another man’s life.” Cordelia had turned away from the window and was now looking at the doorway where Riley saw Xander, Anya, and a third man appear. He was older than the rest, but not quite as old as Giles, he guessed. The man’s gaze rested shortly on him, and then as if dismissing his presence altogether, he gazed at the Cordelia.

“Where is Angel?,” he asked. “I need to talk to him. I think we had a breakthrough in research.”

The brunette shrugged, “Who knows.”

“What do you mean, who knows? There are some demons in a warehouse, he has to fight in a few hours. Exactly at midnight, to be precise.”

“Well,” Cordelia’s voice sounded angry now. “Tell him. He and Buffy had … a fight I guess. God, I knew that was going to happen. She’s never been good for him.” She paused, took a deep, steadying breath, before she went on, “Anyways. He sent me out of the room, so I can’t tell you what it was about, but I still heard them shouting, and when I came back in here, he was gone, Buffy obviously went upstairs because the shower has been running for hours, and he,” she gestured vaguely into Riley’s direction, “was all on his lonesome. By the way, his name is Riley Finn and he’s Buffy’s ex-soldier-guy.”

“Ah,” Wesley nodded, obviously used to the brunette’s ramblings. “Well, nice to meet you. Still, it doesn’t solve our problem and that is, where can we find Angel?”

*****

Spike let the door slam behind him and took another gulp from a bottle of beer that really didn’t deserve the name. But the alcohol was at least making him feel a little bit better about the things that had happened today and so he drank it anyway. Somehow the bitter taste fitted this thoroughly lousy day. There had been a couple of them in Spike’s long life, but today he would gladly forget if he could. Just erase the day, wipe it from his memory. Only yesterday he’d still been in the Slayer’s graces – and pants –, had been a member of their gang, and today he was an outcast, someone Buffy kicked out of her life like a dog, the way he’d promised she would never do again. She had even warned him to come near her friends again. Or Dawn.

He chuckled, took another drink and grimaced at the taste. Maybe he should’ve told her that the little sis had been running from his crypt. There had been no way of mistaking the fear in Dawn’s eyes.

What the hell had gone wrong?

There was only one thing different from yesterday, only one thing that could be the cause.

Angel.

His blasted grand-sire had decided to make an appearance and like always Spike’s life had changed for the worse. With a vile curse on his lips the vampire smashed the bottle against a wall, wishing it was Angel, wishing he was watching his grand-sire dissolve into ashes instead of the glass scattering into pieces. Angelus was like a louse sitting in his fur, a louse Spike couldn’t get rid off. God, he wanted to hit Angel right now, wanted to pound into him, until the older vampire begged for mercy.

He swore again, turned around and gasped in shock. He was staring right into the furious glowing amber eyes of his grand-sire.

 Part 13

Buffy slowly opened the door to Dawn’s room, and tiptoed inside. Hearing the noise Tara raised her head, smiled at the Slayer. “Hi,” she whispered. “He just fell asleep.” She nodded towards Connor who was lying in the middle of Dawn’s bed, Buffy’s teenage sister sitting beside him, a soft expression on her face.

“I just wanted to see if everything’s alright,” Buffy whispered back, anxious not to wake the sleeping baby. “Are you okay, Dawnie?,” she asked her sister.

The girl shrugged, not taking her eyes away from Connor, “Sure.” A frown appeared on her forehead, “What is Riley doing here?”

“The Initiative is on their way to Alaska. They stay in L.A. for a few days, so he thought he’d stop by and visit.”

“A-are you glad he came?,” Tara wanted to know, her wise eyes, so often looking older than her 21 years, resting on Buffy with a warm expression.

Buffy sighed slightly, “I’m not sure. Yeah, I guess. I mean … he left in such a hurry, we never had time to really talk, but … right now …,” she shook her head. “Maybe in one or two weeks it would’ve been better. Plus there is the little problem that I didn’t really meet him before. I mean … most of the things seem to have happened the same way here and there, but how can I know if we remember the same things?”

“Why don’t you just tell him?,” Dawn gave her sister a curious look. “Not that I think you have to. Right now, if it was up to me, Riley could just leave and never come back, but … wouldn’t it be the easiest way?”

“I guess,” again Buffy sighed, then ran a hand through her hair, removing it from her neck in the process and giving Tara and Dawn full view of the bruises there.

The teenager gasped, shot from the bed, and rushed to the Slayer’s side, “Oh God, Buffy. What happened?”

Only now realising what her sister was referring to, Buffy quickly rearranged her hair, “They are …,” she looked at Tara, glad that there was only warmth and acceptance in the other woman’s eyes, and a deep knowledge, telling Buffy that the witch already understood. “Spike and I had a fight.”

“And he hit you?” Dawn’s voice was suddenly loud and shrill, but when the baby moaned in his sleep, she clapped a hand over her mouth, “Sorry,” she sent Tara an apologetic gaze. Then urgently, but quietly she hissed, “He hit you? But what about his chip? I thought …,” she paled all of a sudden, her hands shaking, “Oh God, his chip doesn’t work anymore.”

“No,” Buffy grabbed her sister’s hand, immediately noticing the dampness of the girl’s palms. “It has nothing to do with you. He still can’t hurt you. Just me. And Tara thinks … she thinks the reason might be because I don’t really belong here.”

Dawn flushed, at the reminder of Buffy’s state, and the Slayer realised with surprise that the teenager had obviously forgotten that she wasn’t really her sister. It was a good feeling to know that other people had the same problem keeping them separate. “Oh,” the girl took a step back from the woman she’d just been reminded was not really her sister. “Yeah, I guess that explains it.” As if looking for assurance her eyes were seeking Tara’s.

“Well, at l-least that’s what I think. It makes sense, somehow. B-but maybe there is another explanation.”

Buffy sighed, “Maybe. Probably we will never know. This is … so weird. I feel human. Normal. Angel says I … I mean he is a vampire, so he should know, right, and he says I’m completely human…,” her voice faltered, her thoughts turning to Angel. Angel who had looked at her with such rage. Angel who had not taken her in his arms. Angel who had run from the house.

“He’ll be back,” Tara said gently. And when she saw Buffy’s surprised face, she added, “I heard you talking – before. I went down when Connor had to get his bottle. I thought maybe Angel wanted to feed him. That’s when I heard you.” A blush crept up her face, “I … didn’t listen very long.”

“It’s okay.” Buffy nodded at her. “He … he was angry. I …,” unconsciously her hand moved to her neck, touching the bruises there.

“Angry, why?” Dawn’s voice was sharp from the bed, and again the baby moved uncomfortably in his sleep. “Sorry.”

“Because … Spike … oh, Dawnie, this is difficult. I don’t know how to explain.”

**And I sure as Hell don’t want to.**

“He was angry at you, because Spike beat you up? Is Angel crazy or what?”

Buffy wanted to hug her for that. Dawn was taking her side, being completely loyal, but of course her sister knew nothing of the real circumstances, and the Slayer dreaded telling her, fearing she might hate her the moment she heard what had occurred. Even more because of what she’d become. What she’d done. Again, Buffy felt the urge to shed her skin, to get rid of the scent that still seemed to hang on her, even after she’d been in the shower under hot water for almost half an hour.

A soft knock on the door pulled her away from her thoughts. Willow and Fred appeared in the doorway, the brunette instantly rushing to the bed, her eyes on Connor. “Oh,” her voice sounded disappointed. “He is asleep.”

“We came to ask if you might come down any time soon.” The redhead looked at the Slayer. “They are all waiting for you.”

Buffy sighed again, wishing she could forget about everything for a moment, but knowing from experience that there was never an escape. “Riley didn’t miraculously disappear?” The question was of course just rhetorical. Buffy knew her ex well enough to expect him to still be there. It was just the way he was.

Willow shook her head apologetically, “No.” Then after a short hesitation she added, “He didn’t know about your mom. I … uh … wasn’t very friendly at first, thinking he didn’t care.” She smiled sheepishly at the blond.

“Really?,” Buffy looked at her in surprise. Almost from the first day, Willow had kept pushing her at Riley,  telling her how wonderful he was. The Slayer had been tempted to ask why she didn’t date Riley herself, if he was so fucking great. Only later she had understood that the redhead had an almost pathological urge to keep everyone around her happy. She couldn’t bear when people she cared for were sad for too long. Yes, Willow accepted grieving, but after a certain point she expected people to get over it and move on, and be happy again. She lived that way. She had found Tara, had fallen in love again, convinced herself it was even deeper than before. The chapter Oz for her was definitely closed.

There had been days when Buffy had envied her for it. For her practical way of dealing with things. But then she remembered about all the sweet things Angel had done for her, all the touches and smiles. No, she couldn’t forget that. But for the sake of her friends she’d buried it deep, shown the expected happy face, while she’d been slowly dying inside.

“She was really fierce,” Fred piped up from the bed. “Like ‘Riley what are you doing here’. And her voice sounded dangerous. A lot deeper than usual. There’s actually a purely chemical reason for it. See, if you are angry, you take deeper breaths, your lung widens and your voice sounds deeper and …,” she broke up, nervous red spots appearing  on her cheeks, and casting her eyes on Connor, she attempted to straighten the sheet he was lying on. “Sorry, I know I tend to babble.”

“That’s okay,” Buffy said, feeling bad for the shy woman. Angel had told her about Fred. About her five years in Pylea. She’d been transported to another dimension. A world that was entirely foreign to her. Well, this world wasn’t exactly foreign to Buffy. With the very important exception that Angel was alive here, everything was familiar. Still, Buffy felt a strange kind of kinship with Fred.

“I  think we … should really go down now, before Wesley’s going to explode. He’s been pacing the living-room for the last twenty minutes. If you’re staying up here any longer, he might wear the floor down,” Willow tried to joke, but failed finding it funny herself. “Plus, Angel has still not come back and he has to fight the demons at midnight.”

Buffy could feel panic rising. Angel still hadn’t come back. God, what if … No! She mustn’t do this. She couldn’t lose control, couldn’t give in to panic. She’d done that for weeks, and look what it had done to her. So she mercilessly pushed the feeling away, took a deep breath, and turned towards the door, Willow and Fred following her down the stairs.

Before they arrived in the living-room, the brunette looked at her shyly. “I … uh …”

Buffy stopped on the stairs, looked at her, “Yes?,” she asked, offering the other woman a smile to invite her to say what she obviously needed.

She saw Fred gulp, before she managed to speak, “I just want to say that … I think you and Angel are … I … idiotically thought he and Cordy … you know… I mean they look good together … I still think they do … but …”

Buffy’s eyes sharpened and she felt a sharp stab of jealousy in her gut, despite everything that way going on. Cordy and Angel? Cordy and Angel? CORDY and ANGEL?????

Obviously not realising what her words had caused, Fred babbled on, “… but I can see now that I was wrong, and … I just wanted to tell you that I think you and Angel really belong together.” She let out a long breath, then looked at the Slayer, anxiously waiting for her response.

From the corner of her eye Buffy could see Willow looking nervously from one woman to the other, without doubt realising that Cordy and Angel was still a touchy subject. Hell, any woman and Angel was a touchy subject. But Buffy also knew that it wasn’t Fred’s fault and that there had to be something that had triggered that idea. Plus there were still people waiting for her, not to forget some demon’s in a warehouse, so she just took a deep breath, and forced herself to smile, “Thanks for telling me, Fred. I’m glad you think Angel and I belong together.”

**And after all this is over I might just kill Cordy and get over with it.**

*****

Spike had never been a religious person, not even while his soul had still been sticking around, but for a short moment he felt as if God had answered his prayers. Ever since Buffy had left his crypt, no, ever since she’d told him she’d been pretending he was another, the thought of beating that other up had been almost consuming him. Yet, seeing the rage in the other vampire’s eyes, he wasn’t so sure anymore if God, or maybe the Devil, had listened to his plead.

Angel’s eyes glowed dangerously in the moonlight, his fangs shining white and lethal, and the constant growling that came from his chest told the vampire that his grand-sire was hanging on the edges of his self-control. Spike had seen Angelus in rage. But somehow – and unexpectedly – this furious Angel was looking even more dangerous. Maybe because the blond suddenly realised that rage based on instincts was nothing compared to rage based on true human emotions. After all, the most vicious killers on this planet had never lost their souls. True, Spike had always liked to hunt and kill, he had even liked to torture or rape his victims, but he was following his very nature, like a cat playing with a mouse. A human … someone with a soul, they did it on purpose. They had a chance to choose, and took the wrong turn, or the right one, from whatever perspective you were looking at it.

But although Spike felt a slight uneasiness starting to built up in his gut, he squared his shoulders and with a grin raised a cocky eyebrow. “Look, who’s here. The white knight in shining armor.” He stopped, clucked his tongue, “Ooops, my bad. Not a white knight. And shining is kind of difficult if you have to avoid the sunlight.”

“You must have a death wish, boy,” Angel growled, taking a menacing step towards his grand-childe. “If you treasure your life, you should watch your tongue. I’m in no mood to play.”

“Saw your honey, Angelus?,” Spike’s grin widened. God, it was so good to get back at the bastard. It felt almost as good as fucking the Slayer. He had dreamed about this, but not in his wildest dreams it had ever felt so good. He remembered each night in that factory when Angelus had had his fun with Dru, and Spike in his wheelchair had to sit outside and listen. And he remembered the cocky grin on his grand-sire’s face afterwards. “Looked kind of used, huh? I always liked to leave my mark.”

At that Angel’s control finally snapped. His fist shot out so fast and with such brutal force that the blond vampire flew backwards against the wall, the concrete cracking at the impact. That brought back memories of another building and another cracking wall. Spike recovered quickly, and wiping his bloody nose, he grinned again. “Ohhh. You’re so dangerous, Angelus. I’m already wetting my pants. Does it feel good? To beat me. But you know, it won’t change anything. I still had her. I had her in so many ways, and she loved it, she craved it, she always came back for more. She begged-“

He wasn’t able to finish the sentence because Angel’s fist connected with this face again, this time even more forceful, and Spike’s nose snapped as if it was made of glass. But this time he didn’t give his grand-childe time to recover, to make another rude comment. He just continued to beat him, raining blow after blow at the other vampire, noticing with grim satisfaction when rib after rib broke, when the blonde’s jawbone shattered.

He wasn’t even consciously aware anymore that he was hitting the other man. He didn’t feel that Spike, who had fought back at the beginning, had broken Angel’s nose as well, didn’t move anymore, that only Angel’s hand on his collar was holding him up. All Angel heard were the painful groans each time his fist found its aim, and the pleasure the noise gave him. He saw Buffy’s tear streaked face before his inner eye, and delivered blow after blow, wanted Spike to suffer the way Buffy had.

Crack

He heard another of Spike’s bones break, and suddenly a part of his mind registered that his grand-childe wasn’t fighting back anymore. Blinking, he loosened his grip on the vampire’s collar and Spike finally slumped to the ground, not even groaning because he was unconscious. Angel gave the unmoving form a final kick in the gut, disgusted at himself, at the situation, for losing his control in that way. But a twisted part of him, the demon who was constantly living inside of him,  was pleased with the result. He had shown the whelp who was the master, he’s taken revenge for touching his mate. Spike was lying on the street, bloody and bruised, his features barely recognizable.

Angel didn’t notice his own bloody hands, didn’t notice how hard he was shaking, now that his anger was giving way to exhaustion. He had beaten up Spike in an insane frenzy. Mindless, merciless, effective. Three of his own ribs were broken from Spike’s brutal blows. He felt weak and slightly disoriented. He stumbled when he took a step back, but managed to stay on his feet.

With a last disgusted look at the form on the ground, he turned away and disappeared into the darkness.

*****

They were all there when Buffy entered the living-room, none of them had miraculously disappeared, and the Slayer hadn’t expected them to. Wesley was still pacing, absentmindedly running his hands through his hair, muttering something unintelligible, while Xander and Anya were sitting on the sofa, watching him, both with a suppressed grin on their faces. Leave it to  them to find amusement even in the most horrible situation.

Riley was standing in the opposite corner talking to Gunn who had obviously returned during Buffy’s absence, and Cordelia was staring out of the window. There was only one thing she could be looking for and again the Slayer felt jealousy stabbing through her gut. Again she pushed it away. She would deal with it later. And she would find out what exactly was going on.

“Ah, there you are.” Unnoticed Wesley had stopped his marathon through the living-room, and was now looking at the Slayer. “Are you alright? Riley said you had to fight a demon on your way back home. It doesn’t have to do anything with our mission tonight, does it?”

“Uh … no,” Buffy managed to reply, images of Spike intruding her mind. “That particular demon was … well, it had nothing to do with tonight.”

The ex-watcher released a breath of relief, obviously afraid he might have overlooked something, “Good, good. Fortunately Mr. Giles has left a lot of his books, and so I was able to narrow down the possibilities of tonight’s confrontation. No doubt he’s got access to an extraordinary collection these days, being so near to the Motherhouse of the Watcher’s Council.” He sighed, then catching Cordelia’s raised brow, he straightened, “These particular demons seem to be killed best with a combination of magic and force.”

“You mean we cannot just cut their heads off,” Gunn stepped to Wesley’s side, “Man, I really hate it when you have to do some kind of mojo.”

“Yes, well, fortunately we do have one … two … experienced witches at hand and …”

“No.” Willow’s voice was sharp, the underlying panic impossible to miss. “No. No magic. I’m not going to do any magic. I mean I do … but only simple stuff. No doubt this needs more and I …,” she took a step back, her palms spread in front of her body like protective shields, “I cannot do it.”

“Will …,” Buffy reached out for the redhead’s arm, “It’s okay. We understand. Okay?” She looked intently at her friend and slowly the fear left Willow’s eyes. Turning her attention back to the others, the Slayer explained, “Willow had some … problems controlling magic lately. She cannot help us. Tara however could. She could go with us, and Willow could look after Connor.”

“Connor?,” the redhead seemed confused for a moment, then a relieved smile crept up her face, “Yes, yes. Of course I can look after Connor. Dawn and I will have a good time doing exactly that.”

Cordelia suddenly looked at Buffy as though a thought had popped into her head, and the Slayer wondered if it was lonely up there. Rationally Buffy knew it wasn’t fair, but right now nothing was rational anymore and so why should she be? She sighed inwardly.  Cordy might have been many things, but stupid had never been one. That was solely Harmony’s department. Still, ever since Fred had dropped that little bomb about an attraction between vampire and seer, Buffy couldn’t help to feel pissed towards the her old highschool nemesis.

“I was wondering,” the brunette said, tapping her forefinger against her chin. “What exactly was your fight with Angel about?”

“I don’t think it’s any of our business,” Wesley tried to interfere, his voice reasonable.

Of course Cordy didn’t share his opinion, “Oh, but I think it is. If Angel runs away, and forgets about his mission, it damn well is. I’m not going to sit by and let him push us away again. Once was more than enough.”

“I have to go with the Princess here,” Gunn agreed, crossing his arms. “Don’t understand me wrong, I’m all for privacy. But with Angel,” he shrugged, “let’s just say, privacy can easily lead to disaster.”

“See,” Cordelia placed her hands at her hips, “I’m not the only one who sees the danger.”

Buffy wasn’t able to listen to this for another second, “Hey,” she yelled, satisfied when they were all looking at her. “Fine,” her voice was calmer, but still firm. She was all Slayer now, overtaking the role of the leader. “Listen to me. Yes, Angel and I had …. an argument. We didn’t really fight. He was angry, and he left. But that’s none of your business. I’m so sick of everyone sticking their noses into our problems. Angel and I are warriors, but we’re also people.” She heard a snort from Riley’s direction and shot him a quick glare that had him cast his eyes to the floor.

“We are also people,” she repeated, emphasising each word. “Meaning that we do have a private life. Angel needed some space to come to terms with … some things. Period. It’s not even ten o’clock. We’ve still got enough time until midnight. And unlike you I have faith in him,” she nailed Gunn and Cordy with cold eyes. While the African-American coughed uncomfortably, Cordelia stared right back.

“So,” Buffy ended on a deep breath, “Are we clear?” When nobody, not even Cordy said a word, she nodded. “Fine. Don’t understand me wrong. I know you are our friends. We’re glad you care for us. But sometimes you simply need to back down.”

“Sure.”

“No prob, Buff.”

“Of course, Buffy.”

“That goes without saying.”

The Slayer looked around, then nodded again. “Okay. Thanks. Can we now come back to those demons? I’m sure Angel will be back soon.”

She could only hope he really would.

 Part 14

Lilah shut the door to her apartment, and, leaning against the door from the inside, released a breath of relief. For a moment she closed her eyes and let the silence soothe her nerves, kicked her shoes off her feet. She pushed herself off of the door, walking towards the direction of the kitchen, contemplating what she wanted to eat tonight, only to cry out in shock when a dark shadow materialized right in front of her.

Her whole body trembling like a leaf she stepped back, tried to find her voice. “Wh – who is there?”

“Oooooh … look you’re all afraid again.”

At the sound of the voice her trembling intensified, and Lilah had a hard time keeping her teeth from chattering. “D-drusilla?”

“Of course it is Drusilla,” the vampire replied, her voice soft and melodic. “Who else would come and see you, lonely girl? That’s what you are, aren’t you. So powerful, so much money, but no friends, nobody who shares your life. Isn’t it sad?”

Finally managing to get a grip on herself, Lilah took a deep breath and straightened, “What are you doing here? How did you get in? I never invited you.”

“But you did,” Drusilla’s teeth were very white against the darkness when she smiled, “Your doormat says ‘entré’. Which is a French word of course, but I can understand it nevertheless. It invites me in.” She sighed, swaying slightly, “I remember Paris, you know. It is such a lovely city and the French …,” she trailed off, licking her forefinger to emphasise the comment.

If she hadn’t been so used to vampires Lilah would’ve run screaming, but as it was, she merely cocked a brow, “So, now that you are in my home, what can I do for you?”

“How about a midnight snack?” Drusilla laughed at her own joke, then shook her head, “No. I won’t bite you. I’m not even sure I’d like to drink your blood. You don’t seem very passionate to me. Your blood lacks heat.” Again she sighed, “And your head is so full of plans.” She slowly reached out, her hands cupping the lawyer’s cheeks, a smile creeping up her face when she felt the colour draining from Lilah’s face. “You can hardly wait to get my little brother. He must be very special. A human being born to two vampires. It’s a miracle, don’t you think?” She laughed again, let go of the other woman and suddenly began to dance through the room, her wide, red gown swaying with the movements.

“This is all very sweet, your little family talk almost makes me weep, but can we stick to why you came in the first place?” Lilah was slowly getting annoyed. The first shock had faded, and an insane, dancing vampire wasn’t her idea of spending a nice, quiet evening.

Drusilla stopped in midstep, slowly turned around, her eyes huge, dark, and intense. “But family is so important. Don’t you know that? No, of course not, you don’t have one. Or rather they don’t want to have you around. I’m sure it hurts. Humans,” she shook her head, “such complicated creatures. No wonder we drink them. Anyways,” she snapped her fingers. “Did you talk to your friend?”

“My friend?”

“You know, your friend with the clever, little fingers. Your friend who is going to help my Spike.”

Lilah thought about her phonecall, and nodded, “Yes. I did. And he’s willing to help. As long as you keep your side of the bargain. We want the child. You bring the child and we will remove Spike’s chip. That’s the deal.”

“That’s the deal,” Drusilla echoed. “How human that sounds. You want the little brother. What if I want to keep him? I always wanted a baby.”

“Then there is no deal. No baby, no help for Spike,” the lawyer retorted, her voice cool. She was through playing games for tonight. Or ever, for that matter. Drusilla had come to her, not the other way around. And although her hands almost started to shake again thinking she might soon hold Angel’s child, she knew that you could never trust a soulless vampire. True, you couldn’t trust most humans either, but that was a completely different matter. For vampires deceiving was almost part of the breed description.

Drusilla giggled, “Fine, fine. I like you when you are all bossy. It’s very sexy.” Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper that had the hair in Lilah’s neck standing up straight.

“Thanks, but I’m not interested,” she hissed, hating the tension in her voice.

“Too bad,” the vampire sighed again. “Two women can do such nice plays. Angelus once showed me …,” she trailed off, then shook her head. “I’m not going to tell you. You haven’t earned yet to hear any nice stories,” she turned, reached for the door, but before she slipped out, she winked, “But maybe if you are nice, and Spike is Spike again, we’re going to show you.”

Lilah still heard her giggle after the door was closed. The deal sounded really good. She only hoped she would survive it.

*****

Buffy almost wept in relief when she felt Angel’s presence near the house. A knot, she hadn’t been noticing before, began to loosen in her gut, and ignoring her friends, she was on her feet and at the door before Angel could ring the bell. But when she opened it, and saw the vampire standing there, she couldn’t help but gasp.

He looked terrible. His face was bloody and bruised, she could see his nose had been broken, although it was healing already. His hands didn’t look much better, like if they had repeatedly connected with something hard and unyielding what was probably exactly what had happened. Spike was usually quite unyielding, and Buffy had no doubt that the blond vampire had caused those injuries. Angel’s right hand was lying  over his ribcage, no doubt holding together several broken bones, while he clutched a plastic bag in his left.

He swayed slightly, when he became aware of her in the doorway, but didn’t say a word, just stared at her with his right eye partly shut by swelling. She had changed her clothes he noticed, and Spike’s scent was barely recognizable anymore. She smelled clean and fresh, but the look in her eyes, the look that had haunted him the past hours, ever since he’d left her standing in the hall, facing Riley, was still there. It was a mixture of guilt and shame and Angel hated to see it. Hated it almost as much as his own behaviour towards her. She’d needed his help, his understanding and had only gotten anger and a cold shoulder.

He’d run away from her as if she’d done something to him, as if she’d gone out and slept with Spike on purpose. Damn it, he thought, damn it all to Hell.

She was still looking at him, concern now thrown into the mix of troubled feelings in her eyes and it made him feel worse. There was so much she had to think about already, she didn’t need to worry about him as well. He had behaved like an idiot – she should just boot him into the night and watch him burn in the morning.

When he realised she wasn’t going to talk first, he finally made his voice work. It sounded rough, and strange even to him, and almost startled Angel realised that Spike must have crushed his larynx with one of his blows. “Buffy,” he croaked. He tried to clear his throat, but knew it wouldn’t help much. The damage would just have to heal, and then hopefully his voice would return to normal. Until this happened, he had to be satisfied with the current situation.

“Angel,” was her only reply, her fingers tightly entwined, the knuckles white, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should she just step back to make room for him, should she rush to his side, maybe risking that he would refuse her help. That, she knew for sure, she wouldn’t be able to take. The one rejection tonight had been painful enough. She could understand it. She was so disgusted with herself right now, she would refuse to touch her, if it wasn’t impossible to avoid, because it was her own body, but it had hurt nevertheless. Angel, who always understood, who never judged, who had sworn to love her no matter what – who had died for her … who

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt, her mind only now registering that this wasn’t the Angel who had promised her all those things, who had held her, who had wept in her arms after coming back from hell, who had sacrificed his life for her. She had not the slightest idea what had happened between this Angel and his Buffy. He hadn’t died for her, he had left her, out of his own free will. That was different, wasn’t it? On the other hand this Angel’s soul had never been fixed. Would it have been different here if it had happened she wondered. Would this Buffy may be alive then? And more importantly, would she, the Buffy from another dimension, be here?

No, she thought. If this Buffy was still alive there wouldn’t have been any reason for Willow to play with dark magick. She wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be looking at Angel. She would still be in this place she’d left so unwillingly, she’d wished herself back so many times. She had resented her friends for doing what they did, had refused to accept this life, had hated it so much that even going down with Spike seemed better than living again. Yes, she would still be in that place where she’d felt so safe, but – she realised with startling awareness – there wouldn’t be any Angel either.

As if waking from a dream, she forced herself to move and rushed to his side. “Oh, Angel.”

Before she could take his arm, their eyes locked for the tiniest moment, but he quickly averted his, not able to see that look in her eyes any longer. “I’m okay.” He coughed, feeling it difficult to squeeze words out. It was a good thing he was a vampire, otherwise his voice might have been irreversibly damaged. But then, without being a vampire, none of all that would have happened in the first place. He sighed inwardly, too tired to contemplate the deeper meaning of it. It was futile anyway. He was a vampire, and shanshu or no, he might even die one. So why  try to make your life miserable by wishing things were different. Hadn’t he decided just last year that he had to learn to accept things, that there was no greater power, not greater scheme? Had he already forgotten all those things?

And besides, did he really wish it. Without being a vampire there wouldn’t have been any Buffy either.

“Oh my God!”

Cordelia’s shocked outcry pulled him back to the present and he looked up, seeing the brunette stare at him with wide eyes, while trying his best to ignore Buffy’s steadying arm lying around his waist. Only meant supportive the gesture was far too intimate for his current state of mind.

“You don’t look too good, bro.” Gunn came to stand behind Cordy, worry in his dark eyes. “I wonder how you’re going to fight these guys tonight.”

“No problem,” he croaked again, “I just need some rest. And I need to feed.”

“There’s stuff in the fridge,” Buffy said, already steering him into that direction. “We … uh … I mean…,” her voice faltered, and Angel understood.

“No, thanks,” he refused. No way he would touch Spike’s blood. Fortunately he’d thought about it before coming back. “I brought my own.” He nodded at the plastic bag he was holding in his left hand.

“I hope you realise this was highly irresponsible?” Wesley’s voice was stern, but his eyes were full of concern, and Buffy realised with a pang how close the L.A. group was. They were more than just friends. They were family. His family. Like Willow, Tara, Dawn, Xander, and Anya were hers. Only they weren’t. Not really. Her own family had stayed in the other dimension, probably still grieving her death.

“I’m going to be fine,” Angel insisted, still too aware of Buffy’s arm around his body. As much as he liked it, he didn’t trust himself at the moment. He was much better than before, but he still felt raw inside, and his demon was still raging. Angelus, without doubt, wouldn’t have left Spike lying in the street. He would’ve killed him.

“Sure, fine,” Cordelia scoffed, blinking rapidly. “You look dreadful. And I knew this was going to happen. I knew Buffy would mean trouble. Look at you, dammit.” She turned away quickly and he saw her wiping her cheek.

“Cordy, I’m fine. And this isn’t Buffy’s fault. Leaver her out of it.”

“No,” she shot back, “And you are not fine. You look as if a truck ran right over you.” She turned back, her eyes dry again, “You are in no condition to fight.”

“I will be,” he told her, “I promise.” He looked at Wesley, at Gunn, at Fred, who’d come up behind the two men. “I’m a vampire, remember? We heal quickly.”

“Maybe there’s something I can do?,” Riley suddenly offered from the living-room.

“Yes,” Buffy replied gratefully. Not that she really wanted Riley to stay. But given Angel’s present condition, another trained fighter didn’t sound so bad.

“No.” Angel said at the same moment. With a jerky movement he finally managed to get rid of Buffy’s supporting arm that seemed to burn  through his clothes. As if the night wasn’t already bad enough. No way he wanted to spend some hours with another of Buffy’s ex-lovers.

Riley looked bewildered for a moment as if he didn’t know what to think of the two different answers to his offer, then he obviously decided to ignore Angel and looked at Buffy. “Just tell me what to do.”

She managed a weak smile, “We will, as soon as we discuss the strategy for tonight.”

“No strategy,” Angel’s voice was curt. “I already told you. This is my fight. It was Cordy’s vision, meaning it is my business. And if you excuse me now,” he added, turning towards the stairs, “I need to feed. And I have to check on Connor.”

“May I suggest to-“

“Wesley,” the vampire’s voice was even sharper now. “I’m going to be okay. Don’t worry.” He sighed, realising how this must have sounded to his friends. His voice softer, he gave them a weak smile, “See you in half an hour.”

With that he walked up the stairs leaving his friends staring after him.

*****

Nothing was more soothing than holding a baby in your arms, Angel realised now that he looked at his son sleeping in his arms. Tara and Dawn had left the room some moments ago, and after emptying two cups of blood, he was finally able sort out his confused mind.

Seeing Buffy so quickly after his confrontation with Spike had been hard. He hadn’t been able to look at her - again. Because of it he’d hurt her - again.  God, was he ever not going to hurt her, he wondered?

Maybe she’d instinctively turned to Spike, had looked for someone who couldn’t hurt her in the end, because she’d known all the time that she would never be in any danger to fall in love with him? She’d used Spike to ease the pain but eventually she’d always be in control. Maybe she hadn’t even consciously realised it, but fact was that it was exactly what she’d done.

And suddenly everything seemed so clear, so logical. He’d thought he was jealous, and he undoubtedly was. Only the idea of Buffy with Spike made his blood boil, but jealousy was such a stupid, selfish feeling, more fitting a demon, than someone who claimed to have a human soul. But he’d felt it nevertheless, yet all the rage had not only been triggered by jealousy, he realised now, but also by the idea of Spike taking advantage of Buffy, of using her weakness for his own purpose. Angel had seen the tears in Buffy’s eyes, had seen her despair, just before he left the house, he held her the night before, had listened to her voice. He’d felt all of it, how lost she was, how desperately she needed someone to hold onto, and no doubt Spike had felt it, too.

Meeting his grand-childe had unlashed all the fury, and in beating him up Angel had been able to unload all the tension that had been building ever since Tara had entered the Hyperion. But as much as he had wanted to punish Spike for hurting  Buffy, Angel also understood that deep down inside, he’d also tried to punish himself. Tried to inflict pain, knowing Spike would only too gladly comply.

Spike might have used her, taken advantage of her situation, but he was a soulless demon after all. It was his nature, he didn’t know better. He was led by instincts older than mankind. And Angelus had taught him most of the stuff. But if that wasn’t enough already, Angel knew he’d done worse. He’d neglected her, by pretending she wasn’t there, by trying his best to forget all about her. Too wrapped up in playing happy vampy and perfect dad, he’d almost forgotten the woman he’d once claimed had been the only love in his long life.

He’d even managed to convince himself he was falling for Cordelia, who he loved, but who – so he had to admit – he would’ve used the same way Buffy had done it with Spike. But Spike was a soulless demon, while Cordy certainly didn’t earn such a treatment. She didn’t earn to be no more than a substitute or a remedy to kill the pain, the emptiness. Cordy was lonely, unhappy, and for that would’ve been an easy victim.

Unconsciously he’d fallen into the pattern his demon had used a thousand times before. He’d seen a vulnerable spot and jumped on it. He’d been tempted to use Cordelia’s weakness for his own purpose.

Maybe it would’ve worked for a while, maybe they would’ve managed to get rid of the loneliness, but Angel knew without doubt that there was no way it could have lasted. Worse, maybe in the end they would’ve become one of those couples who were lonely although they were together. It would’ve killed their friendship and Angel wasn’t sure if he’d been able to live with it.

Not really liking the image he’d been mentally painting of himself, Angel cautiously placed the sleeping child on the bed, stood up and walked over to the window to stare into the night.

The simple truth was he hadn’t been much better than Spike, and in some ways he’d been even worse. He’d been tempted to do the exact same thing, but with the little difference that he had a soul, that he should’ve known better. He shook his head, but his thoughts came to a halt when he felt a tingle in his gut.

When the expected knock came from the door, he didn’t turn around, afraid she would instantly read all the stuff he’d been thinking about in his eyes. He knew it was Buffy stepping inside quietly, closing the door behind her, had known it from the moment the tingling had started. He never felt it with Cordy. It should’ve told him something. But he had conveniently ignored it.

“It’s only half an hour until midnight.”

Her voice was soft, cautious, and the uncertainty in it made him feel like a heel. She’d been comfortable around him until he’d turned against her in a moment when she would’ve needed his love and understanding.

“How … do you feel?”

He couldn’t bear it. But now was not the time to tell her. They had to fight demons at midnight, and as always business came first..

“I’ll be fine” His voice was still rough, even though it sounded much better than before, and the roughness this time had nothing to do with a broken larynx, that already had healed nicely, but all with a guilty conscience that was clogging up his throat.

“That’s … uh … good. I just wanted to let you know that we’re all waiting for you. Willow and Dawn are going to stay with Connor.”

He felt her retreat towards the door even while she was talking to him, and knew that no matter how important the demons were, he had to at least clear the air between them. “Buffy,” he called her name, turning around, and she stopped. “Would you … can we talk?”

“Talk?,” her voice sounded high, nervous, and he wanted to kill himself all over again. “Sure, what do you want to talk about? I already know I’m an idiot and I-“

“Buffy,” he turned around quickly, and with two long strides was right in front of her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. Startled her gaze shot up to him, her eyes uncertain and full of questions. “Don’t. Please don’t.” He reached out, his fingertips stroking the satiny skin of her cheek. “I’m so sorry I bailed before. I had no right to react the way I did. But I … Seeing you … with your clothes torn … smelling Spike all over you …,” he let his hands fall away from her, wearily ran them through his hair, “… it threw me. I just lost it. And I … Then Riley was standing there and I wasn’t sure I could trust myself around you anymore. I had to leave. But … it was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

With eyes even more confused she stared at him, “Y – you’re sorry? But I … I thought …”

“You were wrong. It was wrong. It was wrong to let you think I was angry with you. I mean I was angry … but not …,” he shook his head, desperately wishing he’d find the right words, afraid he might hurt her more, if he didn’t. “I was angry,” he began finally, “But more with the situation, with myself. I … I failed you. I should’ve been there. Then maybe …,” he let out a breath, suddenly realising what he’d said, and a chuckled came from his mouth. “Listen to me. I’m talking as if we have a past together. We haven’t met each other before yesterday, but I seem to be confusing you with her all the time.”

Her lips twitched slightly, “I am guilty, too,” she admitted. “I keep thinking about you, and I … I can’t seem to keep you apart. And right now, the way you’re talking to me, with these eyes so … You’re exactly like him.” She finally managed to smile, “You loved her very much, didn’t you.”

“Yes.” It was good to say it, he realised. God, it was so good not needing to pretend anymore. “Yes, I loved her. Very much. But I … kept forgetting it. It was easier. Thinking about her, and not being able to be with her … it was tearing me apart. I couldn’t risk it. I’d been so close once already …,” he stopped, thinking of Darla, of a downward spiral he’d not been able to stop. Only waking up one morning with the wrong blond head on the pillow besides him had saved him in the end, had caused his epiphany.

“You left her because of the curse?”

Tough question. He had asked himself the same time and again. Had it been the curse? Had all the other stuff he’d told her just been made up to make it more believable? The more he tried to understand, the more had had problems to believe himself. “I … I’m not sure. When I made the decision, I convinced myself that it was for the best. I told myself that she would never be able to have any kind of normal life as long as I was sticking around. That I was holding her back. And …,” again he trailed off, thinking about his deepest fear, the darkest reason why he’d left her.

“And?,” she probed gently, putting a hand on his arm.

“I thought … that … She was only eighteen. Young. Beautiful. Passionate. I was afraid one day she was going to wake up only to find herself stuck with some old dead guy, who couldn’t even make love to her. That we’d end up hating each other. It was more than I could bear. So I thought maybe it was for the best. And yeah, the curse was a problem, too. I could hardly keep my hands off of her, and who said that only sleeping with her could break the curse. Ever since I came back from Hell I was afraid to laugh too much, or be too happy. I had no right to pull her down with me. She was so vibrant, so …,” he shook his head, “I just couldn’t. So I left. And convinced myself I had done it for her.”

“And now?”

God, her eyes were the exact same he remembered, looking up at him, soft, understanding, and he wanted to drown in them, to lose himself. “Now,” he managed with great difficulty, “Who knows,” he stepped back, needing distance. “Maybe it was selfish, too. Hard to believe, though, when you find yourself in a dark, unfriendly apartment, cut off from mankind.” He’d spoken more to himself, but found her listening intently.

“I see,” her voice was as soft as her eyes. “And I understand. It must have been hard.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, again drowning in her gaze, “Hard.” Jesus, he had to get a grip on himself, or he would do something unforgivable. Like kissing her. Fishing for the next possible subject he came back to the matter at hand. “I really am sorry,” he said quickly. “For storming out of the house. I can’t remember when I lost control like-,” he stopped abruptly, then wearily rubbed the back of his neck. “No, actually, I remember pretty well the last time.” He shook his head, “I was so sure when it was over, that it would never happen again. But I … was wrong.” A chuckle escaped his lips, “I suppose I really forgot what can happen when I’m around you.”

**Sure, go on, you idiot. I thought you wanted to change the subject.**

Not quite understanding his words, she tilted her head, looking at him quizzically.

“I … uh … I was angry, and … jealous,” he admitted finally, knowing that this was dangerous territory. There was still the curse. And there were demons waiting for them. And she wasn’t really Buffy. But somehow he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“Jealous,” Buffy breathed in awe, still trying to sort out the concept of Angel going on a rampage because of her. Of him beating Spike up, and being beaten up himself. They hadn’t known each other 24 hours ago, but obviously it didn’t matter, nor that they were from different dimensions, that they had loved their other selves before. Nothing suddenly seemed to matter anymore. Only the man who was now standing right in front of her.

“When I … when I smelled him all over you … I … something just snapped. Not just me, not just … but the demon, too,” he explained, unconsciously bridging the distance between them with a single step, “I could feel it roar inside of me. And then Riley … I had to get out. I never wanted to … it was just by accident that I stumbled over Spike. And I still was … I wanted to … but then he opened his filthy mouth and …,” he trailed off, shook his head again. Speech failed him, all he could see those eyes. Buffy’s eyes. They were beautiful, and huge, and they were the eyes he saw in his dreams. There, where he couldn’t control his feelings, Buffy had never been far from his mind.

“Yes,” she breathed, moving even closer.

“Buffy,” he swallowed hard, licked his lips, “Maybe we…”

“I know,” she whispered, touching his lips with her fingertips. “But you know what? I don’t care.”

He had not the slightest idea if it had been an invitation, but before he could form another thought he was already kissing her, his arms coming around her waist, while her body was folding itself against him, her hands burying in his hair, pulling him down. He heard the little moan coming from her, felt her warmth invading him, and knew that he’d finally come home.

 Part 15

Spike didn’t know how he’d managed to get to his crypt in one piece. He was hurting so much, he could feel every broken bone in his body, feel every bruise, every smashed internal organ. They would heal without doubt, but right now the vampire wasn’t so sure dying wouldn’t have been the better option. Sometimes being human did have certain advantages.

While he was making his – very slow – way through the graveyard he couldn’t shake off the feeling he was followed, but he was in no condition to really care. Besides, maybe this someone would end what the Slayer and Angelus had started and finish him off for good this time.

Hell, he really had a death wish tonight. He remembered the first words his grand-sire had spoken when they’d met and realised they were true. And not just because he’d gotten familiar with more bones in his body he’d ever cared for. What really stung was the way the Slayer had kicked him out of her life. He knew she was sorry for using him, but damn, he hadn’t been used, he’d been using her and …

… he’d been love’s bitch again.

Why the hell did this keep happening to him? Did he have a banner on his head saying ‘Here comes Spike. Need someone to spit on – he’s for free’? He was an evil vampire for goodness sake, he was meant to be superior, or so Angelus had told him. They were the strongest race, the ones meant to rule. Problem was, though, he didn’t feel much like a ruler right now. And if he was honest with himself, he never had.

Worse even, he was nothing but a pathetic excuse for a vampire at the moment. Look at him, Spike who had killed two Slayers, he had been brought down by a stupid chip, implanted into his brain by a bunch of soldier-wanna-bees, his foolish infatuation for a blond girl, and a vampire with a stinking soul.

If that wasn’t pathetic he didn’t know what was.

With the last of his strength and an agonized groan he dragged himself through the door of his home that was even more pathetic than him. What self-respecting vampire lived in a crypt? None, was the embarrassing answer. Once they’d been forced to hide in a mine-shaft because he’d been cocky and stupid and for punishment Angelus had given him the beating of his life. Or so he’d thought. Giving his current stage, however, Spike knew that his grand-sire hadn’t done more than playing then. He was now the living, walking proof of what Angel was really capable of.

On the other hand he’d done the unforgivable, he thought not with a small amount of glee. He’d had Angel’s woman. Not once, not twice, but again and again. He could still hear her moan, feel her arch against him, himself sinking into her … she’d been so sweet, so tempting, her honey filling his senses. It was the combination of danger, love and tasting a forbidden fruit that had him almost go off without even touching her.

He felt his groin tighten at the image, and noticed with satisfaction that not every part of his body was as dead as he felt. God, he’d give his soul to have her again, just once. If he had a soul to give in the first place. He snickered, instantly regretting it when his broken ribs protested against the movement of his chest muscles.

But it was worth it, he thought. Everything had been worth it. He’d seen the jealousy and the rage in Angel’s eyes and it had given him the high of his life. Angel had beaten him up, but that couldn’t change anything. He still had been her lover, he still had had her. And Angel would always remember it. Whatever he did, whatever he said, he knew his grand-sire could never forget. It would eat him up, slowly, burning through his whole being. The way Spike had been burning up, hearing Drusilla scream out her ecstasy all the long nights in the factory.

Spike sank on his bed, his knee wobbly, the broken bones in his body cracking. They would be healed in the morning, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. He’d just have to endure the pain. A smile crept on his lips. It was a cheap prize for what he’d gained in the end. Being a vampire, he realised, wasn’t half-bad.

*****

In a backroom of her mind Buffy knew that there were demons waiting for them, that there was duty waiting, but the moment Angel’s lips touched hers, his arms encircled her waist, nothing seemed to matter anymore. Her head started to spin when she opened her lips for his tongue, the blood in her veins rushing through her body. This, she wanted to scream, this was right.

She pulled him closer, buried her hands in his hair, needing to hold onto him, while she folded her body against his. She breathed his name into his mouth, nibbling at his lips with her teeth.

“Buffy,” she heard him whisper, and closed her eyes, not wanting the kiss to end, never wanting it to end. This was so achingly familiar, this was what she’d been missing all those lonely years. She heard a sob, but didn’t realise it was her own. She heard someone chant his name when his lips found her cheeks, trailed down her neck, his fingers digging into the flesh of her back, holding, stroking, while his cool lips initiated fires along their path.

It was madness, pure madness, but God, she never wanted to be sane again.

And suddenly he was gone. Buffy needed a moment to realise that his hands weren’t touching her anymore, that there wasn’t a cool body close to hers. Her eyes flew open and in shock and confusion she tried to understand what had happened. Searching the room, she saw him standing with his back to her, his hands clenched into fists, his back rigid, he was staring out of the window, obviously fighting for control.

Her heart was still pounding like crazy in her chest and she was trying to catch her breath, her emotions running high, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to replace the loss of his embrace, but knowing it was impossible. Feeling raw inside, but knowing he wouldn’t speak first, she tried tentatively, “Angel?”

His back grew even more rigid if it was possible, and she could hear him exhale slowly.

“Angel … I …,” she had to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry, she was desperately trying to find words to explain, words to ease the horrible tension in the room. But she had none. And she wished he would speak because she needed to hear his voice so badly. She wanted him to tell her that it was alright, that it wasn’t a fault, that he felt the way she did. Raw. Shaky. But craving for more. So much more.

She wanted this, him, all the time. She wanted what she’d thought lost back. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the Angel who had died right before her eyes. Because he was. In a way, the most important way, he was Angel. Sweet, caring, understanding. Yes, he was different from the man she remembered, was angry sometimes, and  he smiled a lot more, he laughed, but deep inside she knew that all those wonderful emotions had been in him all the time, only subdued by guilt and pain, doubled after his time in hell.

A sudden thought shot through her mind, “Did you … have you been in hell?”

“Wha – what?”

She heard the confusion in his voice. He obviously never expected her to ask this question – at least not right now. “In my dimension, Angel was in hell, and I was wondering, if…”

He cleared his throat, his firsts slowly unclenching. “Yes. Yes, I … Why do you want to know.”

She shrugged, “No particular reason. It just popped into my mind.”

“I see,” he said quietly, finally turning towards her, his gaze controlled. When their eyes met, he didn’t flinch. At the beginning his unwavering gaze had sometimes unnerved her. Not anymore, though, and so she looked right back. “Buffy, I-“

“No,” she held up a hand, afraid he might say something she wasn’t ready to hear. What if he was sorry? She couldn’t hear it. What if he had been thinking about- ,”What’s between you and Cordy?”

For a moment he looked at her as if he hadn’t understood, then he frowned, “Why?”

Suddenly embarrassed, Buffy cast her eyes to the ground, “I … uh … I know I have no right, not because of some stupid kiss,” she heard herself laugh nervously, and wanted to die on the spot. She was behaving ridiculous. She took a deep breath, “Fred … she,” she shrugged, fidgeting with her fingers, “… said something. So I was wondering…”

“You seem to wonder a lot tonight.”

She heard the smile in his voice and dared to look up. There was no anger in his eyes. Instead they were warm and a smile was tugging at his lips. “Yes … well … I”

“There’s absolutely nothing between Cordy and I,” he said softly. “She is a friend. Maybe the best I have. And maybe, for a little while I tried to convince myself that there could be more, but it would’ve been wrong. It never would’ve worked.”

They exchanged a quick smile. But there was one thing Buffy still needed to say, “ I’m not sorry for the kiss,” she suddenly blurted, blushing furiously the moment the words were out of her mouth. “I … I mean … I-“

“I’m not sorry, either,” he interrupted her, his smile widening. “But it’s …,” all of a sudden he became serious, “there’s still the curse. And some demons waiting at midnight.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” The curse, yes, there was still the curse in this dimension. They couldn’t just forget and be selfish. Oh God, she wasn’t sure she could bear it. Having him close, but not being able to touch him, not being able to show him. She remembered the first agonizing weeks after Angel came back from hell, how cautious they’d been around each other, and she remembered the joy when Willow stumbled over the solution purely by accident.

“But, but …,” she began, biting her lower lip, “I mean … in my dimension Willow found a way to alter it and–“

“I’m not really sure it’s that easy.”

He was even more serious now, and although she wanted to deny it, she understood. She might have forgotten he wasn’t her Angel while they were kissing, but now, looking at him, she knew. They were not exactly strangers, but neither did they know each other very well. Angel, this Angel, had lived a completely new life in L.A., and he’d become a different person. While she …  And who said that he’d known she wasn’t his Buffy all along? Maybe he hadn’t forgotten the way she had, and maybe because of it he’d pulled back. Maybe he felt guilty for kissing her in the first place. Her shoulders slumped. “No,” she agreed. “I suppose it’s not.”

His eyes never leaving hers he stepped closer, “Buffy it’s not that I don’t want you, because I do. After what happened before I think it’s pretty obvious.” The smile was back on his face, and Buffy felt herself returning it. “But there’s a lot we have to talk about. And don’t mean the curse. I had a long time thinking about it, and I’m sure if … But the point is, we have to know each other first. Purely physical attraction isn’t enough. Not if it comes to you.”

She knew he was right, but she still had to know, “Is it … because I’m not her? Not this Buffy.”

A startled chuckled escaped his lips, before he said, “When I was kissing you, I completely forgot about it.”

The beam on her face could’ve lit up the whole universe.

*****

“I can’t believe you could fight like this after what happened before.”

Riley heard the awe in Buffy’s voice and wanted to gag. The guy was a vampire, for goodness sake. To heal fast was part of being one, as was being strong. There was nothing to it, so why did she have to make it such a big deal? Although he had to admit, and not without a small amount of jealousy, that watching Buffy and Angel fight was something to be remembered. They’d moved in complete sync, two well oiled machines, their movements fluent, they’d been kicking and punching, and while Tara had been chanting, they were beheading one demon after the other. Riley had managed to kill one in the same time they’d finished ten.

Unconsciously Slayer and vampire had covered each others backs, as if they’d done this a hundred times before, and probably they had, Riley thought, feeling the odd jealousy again. He wondered why he felt it at all. He had left Buffy, it had been a year ago, and he was over her, for goodness sake. Or wasn’t he?

He saw Angel smiling down at the little Slayer, and had to keep himself from punching him. “I’m a vampire, remember. We heal fast.”

Hadn’t he said it? The whole thing was no big deal.

“But you’ve gotten so much better and …,” Buffy trailed off in mid-sentence, casting her eyes to the ground. “Sorry,” Riley heard her mumble. “I forgot.”

The vampire put a hand on her shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but it seemed oddly familiar and intimate and the commando had to look away. “Hey, it’s okay,” he heard the other man say. **Man! Screw that. The other thing.** “I take it as a compliment. I had a lot of practice in L.A.” Looking back, Riley saw Angel grin, “And I had to train Cordy. She hits really hard.”

The brunette scoffed, “Yeah, sure. And I’m going to hurt you really hard if you ever pull a stunt like that again. Wes was right, it was irresponsible to let yourself beat up right before a big fight like this.”

“Cordy, relax,” Gunn’s arm came to lay around the woman’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off. “We won, didn’t we. And Angel was great. A real champion.”

“We certainly got rid of the demons,” Wesley agreed, walking beside Tara and Fred. “Also thanks to Tara’s magic skills, that are very advanced, if I may say so.”

The witch blushed, “Oh tha- that was nothing.”

“Nothing?,” Fred turned to look at her, her eyes bright. “That was … I never saw something like that before. You held up your hand, and fire was coming from your palms, burning the demons right on the spot. It was amazing.” She suddenly frowned, “Is it something you can learn?”

“Uh-oh,” Cordelia muttered, “Don’t even think about it. I’ve lived with a witch long enough. I had to endure her through all my highschool years. They never do anything good, besides stealing boyfriends. It sucks.”

“I cannot believe you’re still holding a grudge about that,” Xander shouted from behind the group. He was walking with Anya, her body pressed close to his, anchored by his arm.

“I am not holding a grudge,” the brunette’s voice had a dangerous edge. “Getting rid of you was the best thing ever happening to me. And anyway. If I really would’ve tried to hold you, nothing of it would ever have happened. That should tell you something, Harris.”

“You still sound like a woman scorned,” Anya piped up. When Cordelia stopped and glared at her, she shrugged, “I have quite some experience with them. I know one when I see them.”

Pretending to ignore the comment, the brunette continued to walk. The battle had gone smoothly. True to his promise, Angel was recovered, although a bit slower than usual, but with the combined help of the Slayer, the Scoobies, and Riley the L.A. crew had had no problems  killing the group of twenty Grallagh-demons. They were an Irish clan Angel had explained, after they were finished. Living off the brains of humans, not unlike Glory, but instead of using the energy they used the thoughts, then sold it to the highest bidder, leaving the previous owner as an empty shell. Cordy still felt shivers thinking about it. She still remembered when someone had tried to rob her ‘gift’. She didn’t like it when business hit close to home.

And talking about business, “You still haven’t told us what this getting beat up was about.” She looked at Angel who seemed to develop a sudden interest in the trees they were passing.

“I really don’t think we have to discuss this now,” Buffy replied, shooting the vampire a nervous glance.

Uh-oh … something wasn’t right here. “So what did you meet? A bunch of vampires?” No way she would let it go. Angel was part of her family now, and that meant he owed them an answer. Only because Buffy was suddenly part of his life again, she wouldn’t let him forget about the people who were fighting by his side day after day, or who had to suffer from head-splitting migraines so that he could find his redemption.

“Something like that,” Angel muttered, still not looking at her.

He and the Slayer exchanged another private glance, and Cordelia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. What the hell was going on here? First Angel had gotten beat up, and then he and Buffy had come down from Dawn’s room, the Slayer not able to stop beaming, while the vampire was hardly able to tear his eyes from her. She hadn’t said anything before, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t seen the way they had tried to act deliberately casual around each other, or in general. Exactly like someone who had something to hide.

“Do you realise that scowling will get you wrinkles?”

She glared at Gunn who was grinning down at her. God, could a guy be more annoying? Just because he had a nice body … and maybe she was going mad! A nice body? Gunn had a nice body? Where the hell had that thought come from? She gave him a haughty look, then glared again when he started to laugh. She took a deep breath and with great difficulty managed to ignore him. “So did you?,” she gazed at Angel, “Run into a bunch of vampires, I mean?”

Buffy and Angel exchanged another quick glance, before the Slayer spoke, “Cordy, do you remember what I told all of you before Angel came back?” Her voice held a definite warning.

But Cordy had never been one to back down, and she wouldn’t start doing it now. Besides, Buffy had been gone from Angel’s life for years. And anyway, this Buffy didn’t really know him at all. She stopped, planting her hands firmly at her hips and shot daggers at the blond, “And who do you think you are, little Miss I-save-the-world-and-therefore-I-can-have-an-attitude? You didn’t even know Angel before last night. What do you think gives you the right to tell me-“

“What do you mean she didn’t know him 24 hours ago?”

Riley’s shocked exclamation stopped her cold. Shock registered on her face at what she’d blurted out. God, she’d fallen right back into bitchy Cordy, the immature teenager who hadn’t cared for anyone and anything. “I … uh … that wasn’t meant literally,” she tried to cover her slip. “But they haven’t seen each other for a long time.”

The commando might have been born in Iowa, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. His eyes narrowed, and he didn’t miss the nervous glances the group exchanged, or the daggers Angel was shooting at Cordelia. “Yeah, and I was born yesterday,” he said sarcastically. “Is anyone going to explain or-“

“Alright,” Buffy’s voice sounded weary. She left Angel’s side and stepped close to Riley, “How about you sleep in our living-room tonight?,” she offered. “And we can talk about it tomorrow over breakfast. How does it sound?”

Not too bad. Especially given the fact that the vampire was staying under the same roof. So he could keep a close eye on them, and maybe understand what the hell was the matter with him?

 Part 16

Spike woke up with a start but his still fuzzy mind needed a while to realise he’d obviously fallen asleep after all. The second thing he noticed after forcing his eyes open, was the door of his crypt which was standing wide open, the sunlight streaming inside, hitting a spot only inches away from his left foot.

Maybe he’d really nursed an unconscious death-wish last night, he thought, not quite wanting to leave his bed so soon. The sheets still smelled of her, and he could remember the last time she’d lain with him, smiling like a content little kitten, his golden goddess-

“Finally. You are awake. I almost fell asleep waiting for you to wake up.”

And talking about goddesses. He could also remember a time when there had been a black haired one.

“Drusilla,” he greeted his sire, rising his upper body and looking into the general direction the voice was coming from.

She emerged from the shadows, her eternal beauty the same it had always been, and with a flash of annoyance Spike realised he actually found it boring. The image of a human face kept flickering before his inner eye, a human face he wasn’t so sure he was going to forget any time soon.

Damn.

“What are you doing here?,” he asked, a growl coming from his throat, that had nothing to do with the woman in front of him, but all with another, who had booted him out of her life. “I thought when you left the last time you left for good.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged, “Grandmum died,” she informed him. “It was lonely without her.”

So the bitch was finally dust, was she? Well, Spike wouldn’t lose a tear over her. She’d always been an overbearing slut. She’d gone down for hundreds of men before she was turned, but she’d always been too fine to do it with him. Arrogant bitch. “I never thought you were particularly fond of Darla,” he replied casually, not really caring for an answer. Dragging himself up from his bed, carefully avoiding the sunlight, he went to his fridge, pulled out a cup of blood, then slumped into his favourite chair.

“I made her,” Drusilla replied, walking to the door and closing it. “Very careless of you,” she remarked, “Or do you have a death wish?”

Like father like daughter he thought, another growl coming from his throat. It wasn’t enough that she had invaded his home again, now she was also quoting Angel. “What do you want?,” he repeated his earlier question.

He was startled when she moved up behind him, one of her cool hands trailing over his head, burying in his hair, stroking his skull. “I can still feel it,” she whispered, bowing down to his ear, her unnecessary breath tickling his ear, “My wonderful little Spike is caught in there. Bound by bad magic. Do you want your mum help you?”

Help him? For the first time, something remotely feeling like interest was rising in him, “Help me, how?”

“Do you want me to remove it? This pesky little chip is almost as annoying as Angel’s soul.”

“Can you please not mention that name in my home,” he growled, squashing the empty cup of blood in his hand. “And how are you going to remove the chip? Have you suddenly become a neurosurgeon or what?” He chuckled at his own joke, but she just sighed and walked away, surveying his crypt. A fact that made him shift uncomfortably in his chair. Sure, she’d seen his lair before, but somehow this time it was even more embarrassing. He wondered if this was how humans felt if their mother-in-law came inspecting their first apartment.

“No, of course not,” she laughed at his question. “But I have friends. Powerful friends.”

One of his brows rose, “Friends?”

“Hmmm,” she made, “They will remove your chip.”

“They will?,” he didn’t want to sound quite so eager, but he couldn’t help it. There was nothing he wanted more. To think he could get rid of the chip… But Spike wasn’t stupid enough to think something like that came without a prize. “What do I have to do for it?”

She grinned, obviously pleased that he’d gotten her point so quickly. “You have to get the baby. The Slayer trusts you. So it will be easy.”

Not anymore, Spike thought, but wasn’t about to tell her any time soon. To get the chip removed he’d do almost anything. And then it hit him. “What the hell do you mean? What baby?”

She looked at him as if he was out of his mind, then she sighed, “Poor Spike, you will have to do a lot of catching up as soon as we’ve gotten rid of that chip in your head. You used to be so clever. Well, you will be back to your old self soon. But first we have to get the baby. We have to kidnap Angel’s son.”

*****

Ever since starting his business of saving lost souls in L.A. Angel had slowly developed the habit to sleep at night, at least for the better part of it, and staying awake during the day. The change had needed some adjusting on his part, but in the end he’d done it gladly. Staying awake during the day meant he was able to communicate with his friends, and it helped to keep up the image of being human, something Angel had become very good in pretending. Especially since Connor had come into his life, a human child, his son – a fact he sometimes still found hard to believe – it was a real advantage. Although it was good, he didn’t need a lot of sleep either.

Angel smiled to himself climbing down the stairs, thinking of Connor in his arms, his greedy mouth sucking at the bottle, smacking his lips in-between. There was nothing more peaceful he could imagine.

Tonight, however, Angel hadn’t been able to rest. He was still to wired, Buffy would call it, his thoughts still racing through his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Spike, couldn’t stop seeing the triumph in the younger vampire’s eyes telling him that nothing would change that fact that he had Buffy. Angel’s love. The irony that it had never been Buffy, not the Buffy Spike thought anyway, wasn’t lost to Angel. But somehow it didn’t matter. Somehow the two Buffys had long melted together in Angel’s head. They were different, the one still sleeping upstairs even more sad than the one he’d known, but deep down inside there was no difference.

And they certainly felt the same when kissing.

Running a hand through his hair, trying to push the feeling of Buffy melting into his arms aside, Angel stumbled into the kitchen intending to make coffee. It did nothing for his circulation of course, for he didn’t have one in the first place, but it was another habit the vampire had adjusted to, he didn’t intend to break. Drinking coffee with his friends in the morning was always a good way to start the day. They would talk, laugh. Be human. Plus, he hadn’t forgotten the Slayer’s addiction to the strong black brew. Without it she wasn’t able to function, she’d once told him.

But when he became aware of a tall, blond figure standing at the isle holding a steaming cup in his hand, he wasn’t so sure the idea of morning coffee wasn’t overrated.

“Morning,” he mumbled, trying his best to ignore Riley’s presence in the room and the fact that the commando had made the coffee, while he was pouring himself a cup.

“Good morning,”

Somehow the vampire had known the commando wouldn’t let him pretend he was on his own. The moment he’d stepped into the kitchen he’d felt the tension and the barely restrained aggression in there. “Sleep well?,” Angel asked, not quite knowing what to say, not really interested in the answer either. Not that he wanted to make small talk with Riley, but it was better than giving in on the impulse to rip out his throat. Angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to look at the commando.

“No, not really,” the blond replied, resting his elbows on the isle, staring at the other man over the rim of his cup. “The sofa is a little bit short,” he added for explanation.

“Ah,” Angel said, cursing himself for sounding like an idiot. But the truth was there was absolutely nothing he wanted to say to Riley, nothing he wanted to talk about. They had nothing in common. Except Buffy, but Angel couldn’t see them exchanging bedside stories, not without danger of bloodshed, that is.

“I suppose you had a good night’s sleep, huh?,” Riley’s eyes were cast on the coffee. “I always thought Buffy’s bed was really comfortable.”

And maybe there would be some bloodshed anyway. Angel felt his body tense at the comment, but decided it was enough to beat up one ex-lover within twenty four hours. At least for now. “Yes, it is,” he replied, thinking that two could play the game. Plus he had the certain advantage of having spent the night in Buffy’s room. Of course nothing had happened. They had only slept, or rather Buffy had, Angel had been staring at the ceiling. He also kept on his clothes, and Connor had been sleeping between them, but Riley didn’t know that. And Angel had no intention of changing that.

Riley nodded, sipping slowly. “Isn’t it,” he looked up again, his eyes calculating, “I dunno, dangerous?”

Angel’s expression didn’t change. He was not really surprised Riley knew about his curse, Buffy had after all loved the guy once. And as much as he hated it, it also meant she’d trusted him with her secrets. “There are ways around it,” he said, sitting down on one of the high-stools opposite to Riley. To his amusement he saw anger flickering through the commando’s eyes but he covered it quickly.

“I see,” Riley said tightly, again sipping from his coffee. “Is she awake yet?”

“No,” Angel shook his head. “She was tired after last night. You are in good shape by the way,” he said suddenly, surprising Riley as much as himself with the compliment. But it was true. For a human Riley was a good fighter, and remarkably strong.

The commando shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck, “Thanks, that’s what I’m trained for.” He paused for a moment, before he said, “It’s still a bit weird for me to see a vampire fight for the good cause. I mean I saw Spike help Buffy, but you are the first who’s actually believing in what he’s doing. Spike only did it for one purpose.”

He let the words hang in the air, but Angel had no problem understanding their meaning. Spike had tried to get close to Buffy, to get into her good graces, for his final goal, to possess her. “Yeah,” Angel replied darkly, frowning into his cup.

“I once almost killed him,” Riley went on, obviously lost in memories. “I still can’t understand why I didn’t, but …,” he trailed off, shook his head.

“I know what you mean,” Angel muttered under his metaphorical breath, still not quite understanding it himself. Maybe it was a the knowledge that it was more torture for Spike to know that he wouldn’t be able to come near Buffy again, than to become dust. “Why did you leave her?,” Angel asked suddenly.

Riley shrugged again, “It’s a long story. I loved her, she never loved me. Or not …,” he sighed, “I had a lot of time to think about it. Maybe I expected more than she could give. Who knows.”

“And now?,” the vampire tilted his head, eyeing the commando closely. “Why did you come back?”

“I thought I needed to see her. You know, talk to her. Leave the chapter behind me for good. My departure was quite … sudden. But now,” he shook his head, amazement entering his eyes, “It’s strange, but … I still feel attracted to her.” He looked at Angel, “Not that I didn’t expect I wouldn’t be. Because I did, but …,” he chuckled all of a sudden, “Look at us, we are meant to hate each other and now we’re having a deep conversation about Buffy. God, isn’t this world a strange place?”

Angel chuckled as well, “Yeah. I guess it is. So you … still want her?,” he asked, not quite sure why.

Riley looked at the vampire for a long moment, before he sipped the rest of his coffee. Then he stood up, put the cup into the sink and walked to the door. Before he left he turned, “I suppose I’ll always want her. But then, this should be something you understand.”

Angel stared at the open doorway where Riley had been standing only moments ago. Yeah, he thought. He understood. Only too well.

*****

“Angel’s son?” Spike knew he must look like an idiot staring at her, with his mouth hanging open. “Dru, do you have lost all your marbles now? Angel is a vampire. His seed is as dead as mine. He cannot have a son. And I doubt anyone’s going to let a vampire adopt a baby.”

“But there is,” she insisted. “He and Grandmum did the forbidden, nasty thing. And then she was pregnant. She killed herself so the baby could live.”

It seemed the wacky wasn’t quite over in his life. “Dru,” he said, his voice clearly lacking patience. How had he taken up with her nonsense for so long, he wondered. “Again. Angel is a vampire-“

“I know, I know,” she interrupted him, growling. “But it’s still true. There’s this little prophecy. The people I know, the ones I told you about before. They want the child. It’s important.”

Could it be true? Could there really be a child? A child by two vampires? It did sound insane, and regarding the fact that Dru had told him about it, it could very well be, but somehow she looked pretty rational at the moment, and besides … stranger things had happened. Okay, so he had to admit there weren’t a lot of things stranger than a child of two vampires. But still … This was the Hellmouth and you had to be ready for anything. “And what is this child?,” he asked cautiously.

“A human baby,” she replied, smiling. “A boy. Angel called him Connor.” She frowned, “Well, I’m not sure Angel called him Connor, but … never mind,” she made a little gesture with her hand, a gesture he’d once thought sexy. Now, nothing stirred at it. “But my friends, they want the baby. And I …,” she batted her lashes, “want you.”

Over my dead body, Spike thought, then realised the words didn’t quite fit. But no way he would fall for her again, or for any other woman for that matter. He’d been love’s bitch his whole life. It would end. Once and for all. As soon as he got that chip out of his head, he’d leave Sunnydale and bring as much distance between himself and the Slayer as possible. But first the chip had to be removed. And if that meant pretending he was happy to see her, he could certainly manage that. Reaching out a hand to her, he smiled, “Well, baby. That sounds really interesting. So, tell me, what exactly do I have to do to get rid of that thing in my head?”

 Part 17

“Hey.”

His head bent over the opening of the dishwasher, Angel almost bumped his head when he heard her voice from the doorway, still a bit rough, holding traces of sleep. “Hey,” he replied softly, instant warmth flooding his system at her presence in the same room. No wonder he was always feeling chilly in L.A, where the cure for it was so far away. He hadn’t really been aware of it, but now, with her so close, he realised it with startling awareness.

“I didn’t hear you leaving,” she said, walking over to the coffee machine. “When did you get up?”

Looking at her back, he frowned slightly, remembering their night together on the same bed, with the baby between them, “A while ago. I’m not … I  … ,” he thought about the kiss they’d shared, thought about all the things that weren’t possible, “Sometimes I have problems sleeping after a battle.” It was a lie. He always slept like a rock, but it was better than admitting her kiss had left him shaken to the core. Last night, while kissing her, he, in a moment of madness, had let himself believe everything seemed possible, but after a night of lying awake beside her, and in the light of new day, things were a lot clearer, and although he hated it, Angel knew that he could only accept them the way they were.

Not that he hadn’t enjoyed spending the last nights with her in her bedroom, because he had. But it had also shown him how impossible the situation was. The longing he felt being so close to her, was slowly driving him crazy. So crazy that he had behaved with Riley as if Buffy was his. Jesus, he was really losing his mind. But after his last encounter with Riley in the streets of Sunnydale and in Buffy’s dorm he hadn’t been able to back down. Call it the male ego, call it jealousy, but even in 250 year old vampires it sometimes overruled any rational thinking.

She turned then, steaming mug in her hand, and Angel was sure she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen in his life. Her hair was still mussed from sleep, he wanted to bury his hands in it, inhale its scent, drown in it. Her eyes were still a bit sleepy, her skin warm and soft, and Angel felt his groin tighten almost to the brink of being uncomfortable. He was glad he was wearing a pair of sweatpants this morning. God, he wanted to grab her, hold her, kiss all traces of sleep away, and bury himself inside of her –

He stifled a groan the very last moment, and turned quickly, busying himself with some more dishes that were still standing in the kitchen from last night. They’d all devoured a midnight snack after the battle with the demons, but had been too tired to take care of the dishes. He saw his hands shaking from the effort to keep himself together and cursed under his metaphorical breath. This was sheer madness. He wanted to hold her, and never let go, knowing that it was completely forbidden to him. There was still the curse, first and foremost. Now, with Connor in his life, more than ever, he had to be responsible. He knew that the moment he lost his soul the demon would go after the baby and kill it without even blinking an eye.

He knew what it meant. Knew what he had to do. Even if it killed him. And his conversation with Riley just before had given everything a completely new perspective. God, it really sucked to be a vampire with a soul. He took a deep breath, and slowly turned back to her, “Riley was looking for you.”

Her head that had been bent over the cup came up with a snap, her eyes sharpened on him, “What?”

“I said-“

“Yes, I heard.” She sipped from her coffee, never taking her eyes from him, confusion evident in her hazel orbs. “I promised him that we would talk. Did you … fight? Because everyone here seems to expect bloodshed with you two under the same roof.”

Angel shook his head, “No. We talked.”

A brow came up, “Talked?” A grin tucked at her lips, “Does the fact that you still look the same mean that Riley doesn’t have cuts and bruises either?”

The vampire sighed, his heart breaking a little at the hopeful expression in her eyes. With sudden clarity he realised that she wanted him to be jealous and possessive, would take it as a true sign of his affection. “We’re adults, Buffy. No hormone driven teenagers. I admit that we once …,” he trailed off, suddenly realising that there had never been a confrontation between he and the commando. “Anyways. There is no reason to fight. We are friends, you and I. Nothing more.” Yeah. Right. God, he was the world’s biggest liar. Friends? What a joke.

The grin vanished instantly, “Friends?,” she drew her brows together. “But I thought … I mean … last night you said-“

“Last night,” he gave another weary sigh, “I wasn’t thinking clearly, Buffy. I’ve not been thinking clearly ever since I came to Sunnydale. Every since I met you again. Seeing you …,” he paused, running a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment, “It was a complicated situation. After I thought you had died, you came back. And then suddenly,” he looked at her, not able to hide the sadness in his eyes, “there was this whole different dimension thing.” He shook his head, chuckled, “It was so confusing, and it was so good to be with you again … I … started to let myself dream of things. Impossible things. “

“Impossible things?”

She was staring at him with such confusion in her eyes, he wanted to weep. “Yes. Impossible. Buffy things were different in your dimension, but here … After I came back from Hell, things were … pretty difficult. Anyways. What I wanted to explain was that I was already confused and after meeting Spike-“

“You mean after beating him up.”

He shot her a look, “I was ... I wasn’t able to think things through. This,” he gestured at her, then at himself, “isn’t possible. It never was. For a moment we let ourselves believe it could work, but we both know it can’t.”

“Not possible?” Her eyes were filled with unshed tears. “But you said … I don’t understand. Is it because of the curse?,” she asked, her voice small, lost.

Angel felt his gut knot at the expression on her face, but he kept his voice firm. He’d been through this before. He could do it again. “The curse is part of it, yes. I won’t deny it. A big part. A major part,” he chuckled humourlessly, “I cannot risk it, Buffy. There is too much at stake.”

“Connor.”

“Yes, Connor,” he agreed, “but also you. Don’t think I’ll ever forget the way I behaved then. The things I said. And with the recent events…,” he shook his head, “He would destroy you, Buffy.”

“But I told you,” he heard the way she tried to keep her voice calm, and his heart broke for her, “Willow … in my dimension … she found a way to alter the curse. Maybe we could-“

“But we can’t live a life on maybes, Buffy. I have responsibilities. Not just Connor. There are my friends. The agency in L.A. The people I help every day. I cannot risk it.” And speaking the words, Angel knew without a doubt, they were true. But that didn’t change the fact that he was ripping his heart out of his chest with every word. That the idea of walking away from her, again, felt like dying in pieces.

She sipped again from her coffee, and Angel noticed the slight trembling of her fingers. She said nothing for a long time, but when she finally looked up, her eyes were huge and accusing, “Was that what you said to her?,” she asked, and Angel flinched as if she’d slapped him. “Was that the way you left her and broke her heart?”

“Buffy-“

“NO,” her voice was suddenly sharp and she straightened. “I don’t want to hear it. I already know it. And I … understand. You’re going to leave. You told me you’d be there for me, and you lied. But that’s … okay … really. I’m going to live. I managed to live after you, he, died.” She set down her mug with slow, deliberate movements, and Angel realised she was trying her best to keep herself together. He wanted to reach out, wanted to take her in his arms, beg for forgiveness for hurting her, but knew it would be wrong. So he did nothing, just clenched his fingers into tight fists.

He saw her taking a deep breath, and when she was looking at him again, her face was controlled, her eyes bare of emotion. “So, you said Riley was looking for me. Can you tell me where I find him?”

*****

“I wonder if they’re still alive, or if there’s some serious medical work to be done as soon as we arrive.” Cordelia was staring out of the window of the rental car Wesley was driving, talking mainly to herself, therefore missing the way Fred’s eyes widened and the young woman was nervously chewing her lower lip.

Her gaze darted to Gunn who was sitting beside her on the backseat. “Alive?,” she asked, not quite able to follow Cordy’s thoughts. Willow had told her that Riley was Buffy’s ex-boyfriend, but Fred was sure of the keyrumption between Buffy and Angel, so what was there to be afraid of? “Medical work?”

“Cordy thinks Angel and Riley might beat each other up,” Gunn replied, grinning to himself.

“Oh,” Fred nodded quickly, not wanting to appear dumb, although she didn’t understand, not really.

“I really don’t think we need to worry,” Wesley said, always the voice of reason.

“If there’s going to be a fight it’s her fault entirely,” Cordelia narrowed her eyes, squinting at Gunn through the rear mirror. “I always said she wasn’t good for him.”

“Well,” Gunn leaned forward, his crossed arms resting on the back of Cordelia’s seat. “Don’t think we haven’t seen the way you were looking at him lately.”

The brunette almost choked on air, “What?,” she shouted, turning her head and glaring at him. “Are you crazy? Did one of the demons last night hit your head? I was looking at Angel? No! No, no, no. There was no looking. No looking at all. Angel is my friend. F R I E N D, capito? Understand? I like my boyfriends with a pulse and circulation, thank you very much. And then there’s Buffy. He might have managed to have a productive life without her, but she’s still looming in the back of his mind. And no way I’m going to play some kind of substitute. Thanks, but no thanks. I’m too good to be just the second choice.”

Gunn lifted a hand, “Hey, I’m with you there.”

“The problem is,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “that their relationship was doomed from the start. But Angel being Angel, and Buffy being the troublemaker she’s always been, they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. And I’m not blind. A fool would see that they still love each other.” She frowned, “Someone … a friend … once told me that nothing can come between those two. And he was right. Look at them,” she gazed at Gunn, at Fred, then finally at Wesley who was trying his best to concentrate on the traffic, “From different dimensions and still hot for each other. If that doesn’t tell you something.”

She sighed. “But even though I know it, I don’t like it. I never did. I’ve seen Angel in full brood and gloom after her visits. But … there’s only so much we can do. He’s grown up after all. More than grown up, actually.” She sighed again, and rubbed her temples where a headache began to form.

“We all know you are concerned,” Wesley gave her a quick smile. “We are, too. We’ve all been through his downward spiral, remember? I don’t care to live through another one. But then, I think Angel has learned a lot since then.”

“I agree with English,” Gunn said sharing a smile with Fred. “We’ve slayed the demons. And now after a nice breakfast with friends we’re going to head back to L.A. Back to business.”

Cordelia shot both men a doubtful glance, then continued looking out of the window, although there wasn’t a lot to see. Sunnydale was as dull as ever. “I hope you are right,” she told them. “But if everything goes down I want you to remember that I told you so.”

“We will,” Wesley reached over and patted her arm. “But I’m sure it will be alright.”

Cordy gazed at him and tried to smile. But somehow she couldn’t shake off the feeling that the problems weren’t over.

*****

“Good Morning.”

The commando was sitting on the porch, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, obviously deep in thought.

“Buffy.” He nodded without turning, patted the spot beside him. “Why don’t you sit down?”

She had been searching for him, wanting to get over with their talk, and didn’t hesitate when he invited her now. And now, after talking to Angel, he was suddenly like a safe haven, she needed desperately. “So,” she said, as soon as she sat. “How have you been?”

“Not too bad,” he replied, sipping from his cup. “You on the other hand look as if you had it rough.”

She laughed at that, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “You can say that,” she agreed. God, he had no idea. “I died.” She saw him choke on his drink, “Yeah, it’s true. It was the whole Glory-thing. I died. Then-, “ she paused, staring into her own morning coffee thinking about Angel, and the things he’d said to her, before sending her to the porch, to Riley. She began to understand how this Buffy had felt.

“Then?,” he probed gently.

“Willow brought me back.” She sipped once, twice, before going on, “But I … uh … I came back into the wrong world.” Only – it didn’t feel that wrong anymore. Because in this world she’d found her heart again, something she’d thought lost forever. Or so she’d thought. But that was before he’d ripped her heart out and trampled on it. She stifled a sob that was threatening to choke her. Yesterday, after the kiss she had been so sure there was a way to … But the man in the kitchen had looked and talked like a stranger.

This time Riley did look at her, “I still have problems with the concept of you dying. You know with you sitting right next to me and all, but into the wrong world? Come again?”

“We found out just recently. By accident,” she explained. “Tara discovered there was something different … and so … I’m not from this dimension.”

A deep frown appeared on his forehead, “Not from this dimension? But … how?”

“I have not the slightest idea. Our best bet so far is that we – this Buffy and I – were somehow mixed up,” she shrugged, sipped again, “I suppose we’ll never find out. Tara only discovered it because she checked my aura and it was different.”

There was silence between them, a companionable silence even, something they’d never shared before and Buffy found herself wondering if this Riley was different, too. Also his reaction to her revelation surprised her. The Riley she had known wouldn’t have taken this so well. He probably would’ve dragged her to a shrink. Or wouldn’t he? On the other hand almost a year had passed since their last meeting. Was that enough to change the other Riley as well? She would probably never know. This one sounded so much mature.

When he spoke, he sounded wistful, “So you and I never …”

“No,” she shook her head, watching him from the corner of her eye. “We never. But there was a Riley in my dimension, if that helps any.”

“And you and he…?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “It seems that almost all the things happened the same in your and my dimension.”

“Really?” He sounded surprised. “Well, maybe we were destined to be together, after all.”

Buffy studied his profile in the morning light and felt a little tug at her heart. She had never loved Riley, but most of the time she had sincerely liked him, and she knew he’d loved her. He’d told her more than once, and he’d left because of it. Because it hurt too much to love a person but not to be loved back. “He left,” she told him, “And I didn’t really try to hold him back.” Maybe if she made an effort. Maybe then she could-

He laughed out, “Sounds familiar. She didn’t try to hold me either. But in the end,” he looked at the sun, blinked, “it was maybe for the best. If I hadn’t left I’d have probably started hating her.” He stopped suddenly, sucked in a sharp breath, before his gaze snapped to her, “That means …,” he swallowed, while his eyes became moist, “Buffy is d-dead?”

“Yes,” impulsively she reached out with her free hand, touched his thigh. “I suppose she is. Unless-.” Her eyes widened instantly, a horrible thought shooting through her mind. What if the other Buffy was in her world now. A lot of things seemed to have happened the same in her world and in this. So what if the other Willow had tried to bring Buffy back as well, what if they’d really gotten mixed up? On the way.

“Oh God.” Letting go of Riley’s leg, she pressed a hand on her suddenly trembling lips, surged to her feet, the cup clattering to the ground, breaking into a million pieces while the coffee splashed over the ground, missing Riley only by pure luck.

“Buffy?”

She heard him behind her, only seconds later one of his large hands came to lie on her shoulder. “Buffy?,” he asked again. “What is it?”

She shook her head, too confused to answer, too shocked to be able to put it into words. Nobody had thought about it so far. Could it be? Could Buffy – this Buffy – be in her world? Living with Dawn, and Willow, all the people she loved and-. Her thoughts came to a staggering halt. She had wanted to say missed them, but did she really? It was a horrible thing to say, but if she was honest with herself, she had to admit she didn’t. “I …,” she cleared her throat.

“Shhhh,” he made, turning her gently, pulling her into his arms. And she let herself fall, remembering his embrace, remembering the comfort it had always given her. She wrapped her arms around him, glad to be held, to feel warmth. His arms were stroking her back and she sighed, burying her cheek in his chest, wishing it was one without a heartbeat.

*****

Angel turned away from the window, his hands clenching into fists, the pain lacing through him like a sacred sword. His first impulse was to jump onto the porch, sunshine be damned, and  rip the other man’s throat out. He felt the demon inside of him roar at the image of Buffy in Riley’s arms. It was even worse after the kiss they’d shared last night.

He knew he was a hypocrite. Hadn’t he left her more than two years ago so she could have exactly that? Dates with her boyfriend in the sunshine? Something beside the darkness. Something normal. And besides, as much as he wanted to rip Riley apart, Angel was sure, the commando loved Buffy. Not to forget about the fact that he was a good fighter. For a human anyway.

But Angel could still feel her lips on his, could still feel her body close, her heat penetrating his skin, warming him inside out. A kiss. That’s all it was. Just a kiss. Nothing special. Right. – Yeah, sure, and he had taken on sunbathing.

But he had sent her out there. He had pushed her away in the kitchen. He couldn’t blame her for seeking comfort with another.

The vampire swore under his metaphorical breath, risking another glance at the couple on the porch. They were still standing together, looking at the sun, Riley’s arm around Buffy’s shoulder, she was leaning her head against it. Granted, Riley was a little tall, and Buffy … but somehow they fit. Both blond. Both fighters. Both human. He should be glad, seeing them together, but inside his demon raged, and his human soul wept. You are a fool, he scolded himself. An idiot. You have no right to feel that way. You knew from the start that this wasn’t meant to be. But he’d let himself dream. Let himself believe the impossible could happen.  Let a kiss sweep all his doubts away.

He should be glad that Riley was here and that he cared for Buffy. He had all what Angel so longed to give her and couldn’t. He was human. He didn’t have to shy from the sun. Plus he knew about demons, was even a pretty good fighter, for someone without super powers.

God, these thoughts were so familiar to him. Not that they had been connected to anyone in particular before, he’d just wanted her to find a real life, and it was even harder now, having the embodiment right before his eyes. But although he despised Riley – he wouldn’t be a man in love if he didn’t – he also knew that the commando cared deeply for the little Slayer, had seen it in the depth of his blue eyes. If he liked it or not, he had to admit were perfect for each other.

God, it really sucked to be him.

NEXT