Instead of heading home after her training with Giles, Buffy grabbed the spare set of clothes she kept in her backpack and showered at school.

Dawn might wonder where she was; her mom might too. They knew she had a special date tonight. Normal girls ransacked their closets and declared squatters' rights in the bathroom. She towel-dried her hair and finger-combed her hair before twisting it up and tying it into a bun. The most she had in her bag in the way of beauty products was a tinted lip balm and mascara. These would have to do.

She'd rather be happy then beautiful and the property housing her possessions also held more unpleasant memories than she could count.

She didn't want to think of them. She may not look like a normal girl about to go on a date, but she wanted to feel like one. The trick to feeling excited and special was to head to the safest place she knew.

Closing his art history textbook, Angel laid back on his bed and rested his eyes. Going through the night ahead, he tried to determine if he had time for a quick nap. A tap on his window interrupted his thoughts. He could didn't see the source but his pulse told him who he wanted it to be. He scurried off the bed and drew back the curtain.

Buffy.

Quietly he pulled up the window so she could crawl in. "I didn't expect to see you for a couple hours."

She put her backpack in the corner and straightened, "you've surprised me enough times at my window. I thought it was time I returned the favor."

He sat back on the bed so he could see her properly. "Well, I'm glad my window is on the ground floor."

She stepped back between his legs and put her hands on his shoulders. "You mind if we take a quick nap before tonight's adventure?"

"Reading my mind again?"

She kissed his forehead. "Sometimes you make it easy."

He swung one arm around her waist and used the other to pull them both back across the bed. He pushed off her jacket. She pushed off is over shirt. They both kicked off their shoes and settled against each other.

Her hair felt soft against his chin. And her whole body felt warm and pliable next to his. Sleep was eager to claim him now. Before it did, he whispered, "I sleep best when you are with me."

He thought she might have fallen asleep.

She mumbled, "Me too."

Occasionally a car drove by, the wind wrestled the leaves of the tree outside the open window, but for the most part the whole world hushed letting two weary souls find rest.

OoOoO

Joyce came home to a dark house settled in silence.

She walked into the kitchen and reluctantly turned on a light. She hated overhead bulbs. No one needed that much light. She didn't want to see that much reality at once. Through squinted lids, she went to her favorite cupboard and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and a glass — her glass.

Seems she'd be needing it regularly again. She poured two fingers… Then poured two more. When Hank lived here there'd never been a shortage of liquor. In that way, he took care of her; he took care of them both. Alcohol allowed them to cry out the pain and laugh in the midst of it. It brought out his violence but it also brought out her endurance. When she was drunk she could suffer any pain silently. She could take it and bury it in places the sober Joyce would never want to look.

The first finger burned her throat, the next warmed it, and the other two settled her stomach like the most comforting friend or like a mother humming her favorite lullaby. It warmed her and hugged her and crooned that everything was going to be alright.

OoOoO

As Buffy borrowed Angel's comb to smooth her hair, someone knocked on the door.

The door was already ajar, still, Angel invited "come in."

His aunt Jenny stepped in. "I know you two have special plans tonight which is why I wanted to give you your birthday present before you left."

She offered a small silver box. Buffy received it carefully as if expecting it to burn her. "Thank you Jenny." At Jenny's encouraging she lifted the lid. Inside lay black crystal earrings.

Jenny smiled. "They're obsidian — stones made from molten lava. It's been thought to protect the wearer from harmful thoughts or intentions. It also makes it easier to find truth."

Buffy touched the smooth cool drops. "They're beautiful." She looked between Jenny and Angel. "And yes, I'd very much like to wear them tonight." She took a deep breath.

"Connor and I picked them out together." She reached out and squeezed her hand. "We want the best for you and are so grateful to have you a part of this family."

Buffy couldn't hold back the urge to hug her. Jenny wrapped her arms tighter around her as if she was precious to her. Buffy didn't want to cry on her, but sometimes it felt like Jenny was her mother and Giles was her father and she was cherished. But, of course, that was ridiculous since Angel was certainly not her brother and Giles and Jenny barely knew each other. She stepped back shaking away her confused feelings.

Jenny squeezed her hand one last time before stepping back too. "I hope you both have a wonderful time."

Angel stood and gave his aunt a quick hug. "We will."

Jenny laughed and Angel stood behind Buffy as she put the earrings on in the mirror.

He put his arms around her. She held him to her with one hand. With the other she touched a crystal drop. "Between these and you nothing can hurt me, right?"

He nuzzled her hair. "That's the idea."

She turned around in his arms. "So where are you taking me Mr. Angelus?"

He smiled. "As close to heaven as I can manage."

OoOoO

Buffy looked at the sign and the full parking lot. "How did you…"

Angel parked and walked to the passenger side to open the door. "It's the closest I could find to an Ice show."

She watched families unload out of minivans — mothers and fathers and big Brothers and Little sisters — some carrying flowers and balloons. It was the Ice Palace's spring recital — where this year students show their parents and the town what they've learned and how hard they've worked. She reached for his hand and whispered "it's perfect."

Angel's shoulders relaxed. He knew her father took her to ice shows when she was younger. This surprise could have bruised her heart. He also knew she spent most of junior high on a rink in LA and some of her happiest memories took place on the ice.

He squeezed her hand and followed the eager families into the building. When he passed their tickets to the man behind the window, he felt Buffy lean against him.

He bought them hot chocolate and hot dogs before finding seats.

Surrounded by the chatter of families and the smell of the rink, Buffy smile just got brighter and deeper as the minutes passed.

The overhead lights dimmed and eventually colored spotlights took their place. Music came on and kids of all ages came out.

They watched group pieces and elementary schoolers and junior highers and then a few solos and duets by the high school students. Buffy squeezed his hand so tight at the jumps and twirls. She clapped for every performer and stood after half of them.

In the two years he'd known her, Angel had never seen her so excited.

The recital ended with his arm around her as the lights came on and she kissed his cheek.

"Thank you."

"The night isn't over."

A Zamboni came out making ice glassy again. She settled back against him. "I can't imagine anything better."

He smiled and stood following the last of the crowd out into the parking lot.

She frowned as he stepped in front of his trunk and opened it. He turned to her with a smile and two pairs of skates. "We have the rink all to ourselves tonight."

She hopped once and then twice. "Seriously?"

"My buddy Doyle knows the security here. They'll lock up when we're done."

She walked backwards towards the rink. "You know how to skate — how did I not know this?"

"Before we moved here, I played hockey. Connor and I both did actually."

She looked at the skates he carried. "They're so shiny."

He jogged close to her. "I had to sharpen and clean the blades because neither of us have skated in years."

She stopped abruptly so he almost ran into her. She rose on her tip toes and pulled him in for a kiss. "You're my dream guy. You know that?"

He smirked and glowered at the same time.

He waved to a security guard as they reentered the building. She took the offered skates and nearly skipped to the edge of the rink.

He followed her to a front row seat and started putting on his skates as a Zamboni finished its cycle.

When both their skates were on, she intertwined their fingers and kissed the back of his hand. "Best birthday ever."

Together they walked onto the smoothed ice. It took them a moment to find their balance and rhythm since it had been so long since either of them had put on skates. Eventually their feet remembered how to glide and the rest of their bodies remembered how to fly. Still holding his hand, Buffy turned around and reached out for his other hand. She skated backwards pulling him towards her.

The overhead lights dimmed and colored lights slowly danced along the glossy floor. She didn't know if Angel had arranged that or if the security guys here were just big softies.

Either way this was a magical night. Angel looked as carefree right now as she felt — as if they'd left every worry outside the rink's front doors. Nothing could weigh down their hearts here.

She let go of his beautiful hands and spun with the image of his smiling face pulsing in her memory.

It was his turn to skate backward and his speed surprised her. She chased after and around him. He brushed her hand as he past her. She caressed his back as she circled him. They laughed at their game that had no rules and no end.

She caught up to him or he caught up to her and they found themselves in the middle of the rink surrounded by colors and cool air.

He leaned down and barely kissed her. His lips touched hers, caressed hers — with reference and adoration.

A buzz broke her focus. Her eyes stayed closed as she tried to source it. Another vibration came from her jacket pocket.

Shaking her head to clear it, she pulled out her buzzing phone. She frowned at the unfamiliar number on the screen. "Hello?"

"Buffy, I don't know how — why she would do this. I don't even know what's happening! They're not talking to me — they"

Angel followed Buffy off the ice. "— Mom, I'm coming; just tell me where you are."

He didn't hear her mom's reply but it made Buffy stumble. He held her from falling but she couldn't take a steady step after that. He kept his arm around her side until they could sit.

"I'm coming. We'll be there soon." She nodded into the phone as he removed her skates. All he heard was Joyce angry — he doubted she was making much sense, but Buffy didn't interrogate; she just kept assuring her mother they were on their way — that the hospital wasn't far from them.

They were walking through the parking lot when she ended the call.

He looked at Buffy over the roof of the car. She opened her mouth but no words came out.

Her gaze fell to the head of the car. "It's Dawn."

Angel got in the car and started the engine. With a glazed expression, she got into and put on her seatbelt.

They drove in silence. He didn't ask what her mom told her. From Buffy side of the conversation, he gathered her mother wasn't capable of clear communication. The fact Buffy didn't offer more meant she didn't know what they were walking into.

When the worst scenario isn't just possible but likely, the mind doesn't imagine or dread; it avoids. Sometimes it slows down entirely — other times, it busies itself with unrelated lists or details, the number of burnt out streetlights, the bugs on the windshield reminding one their car needs to be washed, the rhythmic beats one can imagine in turn signal clicks.

Everything is too loud and too quiet at different times. Minutes crawl and fly at the same time as they bring one closer to truth.

16 minutes. It took them 16 minutes to reach the hospital parking lot.

As soon as the car stopped, Buffy opened her door and hurried out. Instead of rushing forward though, she hunched over. He heard her retching as he came to her side. Squat down, she continued to keen and wretch long after she'd expelled her dinner.

He didn't have water to offer or tissue — not even a word of comfort. He stood close and silent feeling useless. Eventually her breath evened. He reached out his hand and she grabbed slowly letting him pull her up.

She squeezed his hand to hard and continue to breathe deeply with her eyes closed.

The night air was warm with a slight breeze around them. It felt perfect and people die on perfect nights all the time. He knew this. Death doesn't drop the temperature. It doesn't hide the stars. It can't bring brains or fog or quiet symphony of crickets.

Together they turned towards a bloodied cross — except it wasn't bloodied — it was just red… and white -slaughter and mercy… and sometimes death was mercy.

White light reached them. Doors open for them. They stood in an empty room with hallways and elevators. She loosened her grip on his hand. "I don't know where she is."

Angel found the word that most applied to them on a sign pointing to "emergency services."

The halls were empty — emergency waiting room was not. He led them to the check-in counter and asked "Can you help us find a Dawn Summers? She was brought here earlier tonight."

"By don't you have a seat while I find out where Ms. Sumner is?"

Press enter Buffy's voice trembled. "S-u-m-m-e-r-s. Suic—Sui. . ." She stopped trying to say the word.