Author's Note: I might owe credit for this chapter to a camera commercial that aired like ten years ago. It's also possible that I imagined it. Let me know if it rings any bells.
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It was easy to tell when Angel was asleep. For as long as he lay awake beside her, he would keep moving in some small way: stroking her hand, rubbing his cheek against her hair, pressing his body to hers. Sometimes he even breathed, making his chest rise and fall a little too evenly, but it was otherwise indistinguishable from genuine human respiration. She knew it was for her benefit; he wasn't the fidgety type. She usually fell asleep before he did, but when she didn't, she would find herself in the most static embrace a woman had ever known. He must have known that his stillness was unsettling, so he sent her to sleep every night with those little repeated motions that seemed to whisper, Still here. Still here. Still here.
He had been undead for so long that she would have been surprised that he remained so conscious of the differences of his body, but there were other signs that he thought about it more than he let on. Sometimes as Buffy was drifting off she would feel his fingertips touching her lightly in a series of different spots: first her lips, then her neck, then her heart, then her stomach or side, and finally he would feel her wrist and then leave his hand clasped around hers. It confused her at first, but the second time he did it, all in the same sequence, she realized that he was seeking her signs of life, her breath and pulse. He couldn't have actually feared for her health; his senses would have told him immediately if something was wrong, even if she had been in any danger. He just wanted to experience her vitality. She never mentioned it. She didn't even know if he knew he was doing it. If Angel was going to have an obsession, this one was okay with her.
He was asleep now, though, or faking it well. He had gone to bed much later than her, probably making some kind of preparation he couldn't in the daylight, though she also had a hunch that the guys had convinced him to let them take him out. In any case she had fully intended to wake up before him and sneak away; he wasn't supposed to see her yet today.
Cordelia met her downstairs, ready to take her to the Summers house and get things rolling. In the car she was full of questions, unsolicited advice, and stories about Angel from the last year. Buffy answered the questions and took the advice with the requisite grain of salt, but hearing about the escapades of Angel Investigations mostly just made her feel lonely. She knew that Angel was happier now that he had a life and a job and friends of his own, and she wasn't selfish enough to want to wish them back to a time when he belonged solely to her, but it was weird that other people-- other humans-- really knew him. And soon he'd be going back, and Cordelia would be spending more time with Buffy's husband than Buffy was. It made her picture the old Cordelia, the one who had lived for attracting the attention of whatever hot stylish guy she could find. Evidence said that that girl was gone, but in Buffy's mind she could see her sitting on Angel's lap on the front desk of some big faceless hotel, smugly announcing, "Looks like I won after all." It wasn't fair to any of them, and all Buffy wanted was to stop thinking it.
"Who are you dating now, Cordelia?" she asked abruptly.
"Hm?" Cordy broke off from a story about an underground demon fighting ring to consider the question. "Oh. No one. The lifestyle has a tendency to get in the way of anything beyond the bad pick-up line stage. Although you always seemed to manage it pretty well. Got any cast-offs you could point me toward?"
"Well, unfortunately the best of them decided to leave the-- I just realized you're kidding." Buffy looked for a smirk as confirmation, found it, and grinned back at her. "What about Wesley? After the eyes you two were making at each other at the end of senior year, everyone thought for sure something was going to happen there."
Cordelia tilted her head and fused a nod with a shrug. "But it didn't. I don't know. It just didn't. Maybe we just met each other during the wrong parts of our metamorphoses." She caught Buffy's surprised look and added, "What? I can't be philosophical?"
After that there was no more talk about Cordelia's love life. It was, as she pointed out, really not the appropriate day for that.
There were almost as many people at the house as there had been the night before; Wesley and Gunn were staying at the mansion, but everyone else apparently found it easier to prepare themselves and each other in the same place. Willow greeted Buffy at the door with an excited squeal and hug and Buffy returned it, but she herself felt completely relaxed. Getting married was going to be a breeze. Her friends were supporting her, her lines were easy, and there was going to be a delicious reward at the end. There also wasn't much hurry. It was still late morning, and the wedding, for obvious reasons, wasn't taking place until sundown.
"We're surprising you with an exquisite and tremendous brunch," Xander informed her. "But it's not done yet, so sit down and get ready to act surprised."
Buffy complied, and Cordelia went off and conferred with Anya for a moment and then returned with some nail files and small bottles and proceeded to give Buffy a 'poor man's manicure.' She chattered as she worked, but Willow stole the show when she walked over to the couch carrying a beautiful blown glass flower. "This is a gift from Tara. She couldn't make it, but she said this would lift your spirits when you couldn't be with your true love." She ran a finger along the contours of the blue-violet petals. "I think she meant it literally. There's a charm on it, I just can't quite describe how it works. Here, hold it."
The glass felt cool and smooth in her hand, which was reminder enough of Angel's body, but the charm's effect was evident as well. "This is...it's amazing! Feels like..." She beamed at Willow, lost for words.
Willow understood, though. "Feels like Angel, right? It works for me, too, only I can feel Oz."
"I wish she were here," Buffy murmured. Tara had been the only one to actually receive an invitation, as neither Buffy nor Angel had regular communication with her. It was sad that she was also going to be the only one who couldn't come. Buffy resolved right then to become closer friends with her. "I already owe her a lot. Without that spell she helped you with, this might not even be happening."
Anya asked to hold the flower, and then seemed reluctant to let it go, twirling it in her fingers and gazing at it with uncharacteristic softness in her eyes. Cordelia was offered a turn, but declined it with a resigned smile that made Buffy's heart ache for her. Before long, though, they decided to try it on the guys, and seeing Xander and Oz getting all bashful and affectionate with their girls had everyone cheery again.
Father Tom emerged from the kitchen holding a full coffeepot. He and Giles were the only ones left working on brunch, Buffy realized, but she couldn't get up to help. Cordelia was still working on one of her hands and everyone had insisted that she let them wait on her anyway. "Cream and sugar, Buffy?" asked the priest.
"I like my coffee like I like my men: cursed by gypsies and clinically dead."
Father Tom looked down at the coffeepot in his hand, then back up at Buffy. "So, cream and sugar...?"
"Uh, yeah. Both." Buffy followed him with her eyes. Her life was full of mysterious people, but this one was mysterious in such an strangely mundane way, and today he was going to be the key participant in a relationship that otherwise included only her and Angel. As soon as Cordelia released her from the manicure, she got up to interfere with the cooking.
"Is the lake going to be holy water forever?" she asked, leaning against the counter and sipping her sweet creamy coffee. Just right.
He raised an eyebrow as he inserted some bread into the toaster. "No. Water is in a constant state of flux, so the blessed content will become more and more diluted until it's gone. I don't know how long it will take, though. You'd have to consult a science book for that."
"Or consult a Giles. He's better than science books because he does the reading for you and then tells you the answers." She glanced at Giles, assuming a long-suffering sigh was coming in response to the remark, but he was busy at the stove and hadn't heard her, so she turned her attention back to Father Tom. "Could you turn the whole ocean into holy water?"
"I wouldn't attempt it. It's a blessing that's misused too much as it is."
She nodded. "I can imagine. Probably kind of a touchy thing to be using as a weapon." She stirred her coffee and dropped the spoon into the sink. "Did Noah take two vampires on the Ark?"
"I sincerely doubt it," he chuckled. "You're in rare form today."
"It's a rare day. What did you give Angel as penance?"
His hand halted on the door of the cupboard where he was searching for dishes. "Ah, now the interrogation reaches its purpose."
"Hey, I might not be Catholic but I do watch movies. At the end of the confession the priest always tells the sinner to say three Hail Marys or something. And I have this odd feeling that Angel didn't get the three Hail Marys treatment." She frowned, thinking about all that Father Tom had learned about Angel that she didn't know. Things that Willow knew too, from that ancient book that was back in the glass case at the mansion even now. Maybe she should just bite the bullet and crack the book, but no, that wasn't how it worked with them.
Father Tom gave her a steady look. "Did the movies tell you that I'm not at liberty to discuss this?"
"But I'm not asking you to divulge his confessions. I just want to be sure--" She took a deep breath. "He's a survivor. But if he thinks he has to, he'll take on too much, and if I'm going to help him with that I need to know what's happening. I mean, it's part of being his wife, right?"
"So is trusting him. Do you remember when I first met you and Angel?" He waited for her nod, then went on, "My order is dedicated to destroying vampires. I knew from your thoughts that he had a soul, but with what I knew about Daemonis, that meant little to me. All I understood was that you loved him, and you trusted him, and you knew what you were doing. So I trusted you, and I didn't shoot. And today I'm going to unite you and your vampire for the same reason. From you I have evidence that your love is pure. From him, I'm taking a lot on faith, confessions or not."
"Well," she ventured, "most priests don't even get the psychic evidence from half of the couple, right?"
"True. And many marriages end badly, even without your special circumstances to hinder them."
She thought about that for a moment. It was possible that the appearance of this particular priest in their lives at this time was lucky in more ways than she had realized. Without his telepathic ability, he might not have had the conviction to preside for them. "So you're saying I need to take a lot on faith, too?"
"Until you find a way to read his mind, and at that point, I hope you write me about it, because I'd love to hear." Father Tom washed his hands under the faucet and dried them on a dishtowel, then paused, meeting her eyes. "Angel's penance was chosen long before I met him. I didn't want to add to it, and I didn't need to."
Buffy didn't verbalize her thanks, but he was a psychic, and he answered anyway. "You're welcome. And look at this, your breakfast is finished."
Her gaggle of bridesmaids entered the kitchen to tell her the same thing, with the additional announcement that after eating, it was time for getting dressed and ready. "And then it's No Boys Allowed, capeesh?" said Cordelia.
Father Tom smiled and dipped his head as he went for his hat. "I'll see you at the church, Buffy," he said, and she gave him a little wave and grin.
She was ready.
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It was the same church in which he had confessed, but the change in intentions made it feel different for Angel, and he noticed for the first time that it was named St. Patrick's. It couldn't hurt to have the patron saint of Ireland watching over them. He was even able to appreciate the artwork a little bit, especially the stained glass windows. They couldn't cast their colorful patterns without sunlight coming through them, of course, but at least they didn't feature crosses too often.
"Angel, you're pacing," said Wesley. "She's not late, you know. We're early."
Angel hadn't noticed he was pacing, but he stopped doing it when Wesley spoke up. Then he shrugged and kept walking. It had probably been a bad idea to come early.
Gunn returned from the bathroom downstairs, grinning broadly. "Just had to check myself out in the mirror again. Damn, we look good. Sorry you gotta wait on the pictures to see for yourself, Angel man."
The comment made Angel wonder, not for the first time, if he was certain that he trusted his friends to tell him if he had something on his face. He could just imagine Buffy taking one look at him as she walked down the aisle and busting out in laughter.
"Why the pacing?" Gunn wanted to know.
"He's brooding," Wesley replied in Angel's stead.
Angel glowered. "I'm not brooding."
"Say what?" Gunn demanded. "Now? You're not getting cold feet, are you? Colder than usual, I mean?"
"Knock it off. I'm not getting cold feet and I'm not brooding."
They persisted, though. Wesley's voice actually held some real concern. "Is the church affecting you? We have time to slip outside for a bit."
"No, the church feels fine."
"Something else, then?"
Angel sighed. "It's just, I had this dream once..."
The sound of the heavy wooden doors of the church's main entrance interrupted his thought, but that was fine because the thought stopped mattering instantly. It wasn't Buffy yet, but anyone's arrival now meant that she would soon be on her way. Conversation in any capacity suddenly seemed a nuisance.
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No pictures were taken during the ceremony. There wasn't anyone to take them anyway, since everyone present was in the wedding party and the ritual took place with all of them arranged in a crescent between the altar and the pews. Oz concentrated on using the time to create mental pictures instead, feeling it was important to keep the day alive in his memory. He had never seen all of them together like this, so solemn and single-minded, and he wagered that he never would again.
He memorized the scent, too. Over the wood and stone and incense of the church there was the unified aroma of many humans and one vampire, and their mixed emotions hidden in the reverent hush. Love, mostly. Oz didn't know why he could smell love, but he had come to recognize it, in its various incarnations, along with the more chemically evident emotions. Those were represented here too, both joy and sadness, and the most subtle of all, fear. That one came from more than one person and its source was unidentifiable, but, Oz noted, both Buffy and Angel were free of it. They said their vows clearly, honed on each other like birds of prey, and kissed with unmitigated passion when Father Tom pronounced them married.
Until that point everyone had put on a good facade of being an actual congregation, but as the couple left the altar and walked down the aisle together, their collective formality fell apart and the rest of the procession was all laughter and horseplay. Willow had gone through a spasm of panic the night before when she realized that she had neglected to buy birdseed to throw when they got outside, so Oz had calmed her by searching the cupboards for some kind of substitute, and Buffy and Angel ended up being pelted with Rice Krispies. Angel's look of utter confusion as he peered at a handful of the cereal made Oz remember that photography was now permissible, and he grabbed the camera before they made their way down to the reception hall. (It was actually just a large multi-purpose room beneath the church, but some severe decorating power and Willow's magic touch made it a very impressive large multi-purpose room.)
For an amateur with a camera that probably wasn't heavy enough to be of real quality, he thought he did a pretty good job as the primary photographer. He started off by getting the posed ones before everyone got too unruly for them: Buffy and Angel by themselves, with Father Tom, with Xander and Willow, on down through all combinations until Father Tom took a turn with the camera so that they could get one with the whole wedding party together.
Then Oz took it back for the fun ones. He got Xander and Anya trying out a swing dance move that had Anya up in the air ("That shot will never come out," she said). He got Wesley and Gunn in what looked like an eating competition ("There is no possibility of you getting a decent picture out of this," said Wesley). He got Buffy's hand resting on top of Angel's, both displaying the narrow bands they now wore beneath the claddagh rings ("Too close," said Buffy, "it'll be all blurry").
He made sure to keep taking pictures of the newlyweds all night long, whether they were aware of him doing it, or whether they were too absorbed in each other to notice anything else. When they fed each other cake he was behind the lens right in front of them, close enough to hear Buffy telling Angel, "It's good, trust me." He was operating in stealth mode for a few truly epic kisses, though, so he could surprise them with that once they got developed. He caught an excellent shot of Buffy jumping into Angel's arms and wrapping her legs around his waist, big puffy skirt and all, which Oz thought was the cutest thing he had ever seen from a girl who wasn't Willow.
Of course he got a few good ones of Willow by herself, breathless and radiant in her shiny blue dress. He also passed off the camera for a while so he could dance with her, and then took it back from Cordelia so she could dance with Wesley, then Gunn, then Xander, then Angel. Oz got snapshots of her with each of her partners, along with every other pair on the floor. Giles dancing with Buffy, sharing fond words with each other as they spun in a simple but elegant waltz. Willow dancing with Xander in a silly improvised tango. Gunn breakdancing by himself to enormous cheering, after he swore he would never do it no matter how much they begged. And Buffy dancing with Angel, resting her head on his chest, her eyes closed in quiet ecstasy.
After all of the obvious memories were collected, Oz started getting creative. "Why are you taking a picture of the door?" Father Tom asked curiously from behind him.
"Oh, well I'm going to caption it. 'This is the entry which was not busted at any point by marauding demons.' Thought that might be something uplifting to add to the album."
"I see. Marauding demons were a concern, were they?"
Oz shook his head firmly. "No, no. Definitely not. Maybe. Depends on who you ask." He glanced over at Buffy. "Hey, she's throwing the bouquet. I gotta get this."
One picture of Buffy executing a perfect toss behind her back. One picture of the bunch of flowers landing neatly in Cordelia's hands. And then, one picture of Cordy handing it graciously to Anya, who required a few seconds to process her shock and then ran right over to Xander with an animated explanation on her lips.
Oz watched the way the tradition went down, said, "Hm," and then went to put an arm around Willow just in case she was disappointed. It was kind of hard to tell. The first thing she said was, "I never catch anything," but from her tone she might as well have been bothered about her lack of catching ability, and not the bouquet's symbol. He decided to take the safest route and kissed her hard right there on the dance floor. She responded in kind, and he found himself holding out the camera at arm's length until someone-- he couldn't see who-- relieved him of it.
Partying until the sun came up wasn't an option, since Buffy and Angel had to be at their destination by dawn and they had a two hour drive ahead of them. Besides, they were obviously getting anxious to be on their way. Xander noticed it too: "We better chase them out of here," he said, out of their earshot. "Don't want to delay the Slayer and her catch when they're ready for their marital coffin."
Angel took charge of their exit by scooping up Buffy into his arms and carrying her out the door. "This wasn't the plan!" she squealed, squirming and kicking her dainty little feet in an obviously fabricated attempt to escape, but he just laughed and kept his grip until he reached the convertible and set her down in the passenger's seat. As the car pulled out it was accompanied by a shower of brightly sparkling lights, which was unexpected for everyone but Willow, and even she admitted later on that it had been a spontaneous spell that she hadn't really known she could do.
Oz stood with her outside for a few minutes after Buffy and Angel were gone. Her hairstyle had come undone, and he was pointlessly trying to put a few stray locks back in place when he heard her sniffling. He turned her around to face him, and she leaned her head into his shoulder. "I did all I could," she said in a muffled voice. "But I can't give them what they really want. I can't make him human. I can't get them out of the fighting life."
"Willow." He stroked her hair and set a kiss on her forehead. "They're happy. Didn't you see how happy they are? Buffy couldn't ask for a better friend than you."
There was a brief silence before she spoke again. "I think I need some more cake."
"I think so too. Fortunately, last I saw there was a whole bottom tier left. Let's go in."
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Before leaving the reception, Willow realized to her annoyance that she had forgotten the formula for the spell that would turn off the magical decorations. She couldn't very well leave them there in a place that would be public again the next day; she and Oz would have to make a stop at the Magic Box before they went home, to look it up. It wasn't that big of a deal, though, and her emotional overload had settled into contented exhaustion, so the two of them changed clothes quickly and went to get their errand over with.
"Hi, Sippy," said Willow as she flicked on one of the lights so she could find the right book. "What's new?"
The feline spirit stared down at her with eyes like baseballs. "Much," it said.
Willow froze. Oz did a doubletake, surprised to hear the infantile, echoing sound of Sippy's voice. "That's weird," he said. "I've never heard it speak before. Kinda cute."
"That's not the point!" Willow exclaimed. "It doesn't talk unless it has to tell us something we haven't heard before. This could be bad." She took a deep breath. "Sippy, report."
The cute voice that Sippy used by default was gone. Instead it answered in a woman's voice, soft but irritated and subtly menacing, clearly a direct quote from the voice's real owner. "She has visions, she was Angelus's seer. We need her."
Sippy's power was based in all of the senses; it could report not only what it had heard but what it had seen and felt as well, and sure enough, visuals began to appear in the air before them. The one who had spoken was a small blond woman in a tight dress, and she was standing beside a bed where a huge, disfigured vampire lay staring at her with glassy orange eyes.
"Darla," Willow whispered, heart thumping.
"And Daemonis," Oz added. It was, as far as Willow knew, the first time either of them had seen the master vampire, but he was unmistakable. She wanted to ask a million questions about what this could mean, but Sippy hadn't paused the show for them and she knew this was their only chance to pay attention and learn what they could.
"And the other?" Daemonis wheezed in reply to Darla.
"We need him too. He helps to control her. Just let me handle this. The Slayer is at full strength again and she's always with Angelus, I can't just step in and take her. The spell is the key." She smiled. "And it's fun. Have you ever seen a human without a soul? Lambs to the slaughter. We'll need to set up farms for them, but let's not think too far ahead just yet."
"This spell could kill me. Forgive me if I'm not enthused."
The image showed Darla glaring down at the sick vampire and gesturing in annoyance. "It won't kill you. It only looks that way because it assumes a human caster. 'The body must die while the mind still comprehends.' Well, your body is already dead and your mind still comprehends. Enough for our purposes, anyway."
Daemonis's voice was a dry crumble. "And the other part?"
"'In the end there is nothing left of the one who makes the sacrifice, for he belongs to the one who accepts it,'" Darla recited. "Your soul is the one who makes the sacrifice, and what's that but a good riddance. Your body lives on. I'm certain of it."
"You're certain of it because the sacrifice isn't yours."
Darla bent down, hands on her knees, her face inches from Daemonis's. "If you start the spell tonight, I'll have the Slayer for you as soon as it's completed. If you don't, you'll be dead before long anyway. I'm not going through that vile water any more than I have to. I'm only coming back down here once more, and I'll have either your cure or someone else to succeed where you failed. Die if you want. All I need to usher in my brave new world is a vampire with a soul to be the sacrifice, and those aren't in any short supply right now."
The snarl in Daemonis's throat turned into hacking as it came out. "How are you going to get the Slayer? You don't even know where she is."
"That's the best part," said Darla with sadistic pleasure. "Once the soul is out of Angelus, he'll bring her to me. No more of this moral nonsense infecting everyone, and I get my boy back. I'll set up my part of the ritual in one of his old haunts, so after you finish yours, all I have to do is sit down and wait for him to come looking for me."
"Then bring me what I need," Daemonis rasped. "And get to work."
Darla left Daemonis's bedside, and the images playing out for Willow and Oz faded away. They looked at each other in horror, completely numb, then Willow dove for the phone and stared as it as the dial tone snored. "I don't even know who I should be calling," she whimpered.
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They hit the seaside road about twenty minutes into the drive. There was hardly another car out here, at this time of night, and the view was amazing. For long stretches at a time, they could see the ocean spread out below them, the almost-full moon hanging over and reflecting in ripples. Angel smiled as Buffy's hair flapped around her and she breathed in the salty air. He had been waiting so long to bring her somewhere peaceful.
They had left the wedding gifts unopened at the mansion, but Buffy decided that she couldn't wait to open the cards, and she started going through them as Angel drove. Most just made her look touched, but after opening one of them she snorted a laugh and held it up for Angel to see. He took his eyes off the road long enough to read what Cordelia had written there: "May your love be as joyous and eternal as it is forbidden."
"She's a piece of work," he said, grinning.
"They all are," agreed Buffy. "I'm surprised they didn't find 'forbidden love' gift wrap. It could've been a theme."
He put an arm around her shoulders, and she managed to scootch close enough to lean into his embrace. He loved how warm she always felt, and how he could feel the life coursing through her body. She was happy. The wedding was finished, and she was still happy to be with him. 'Forbidden' was such a silly word.
Her cellphone rang and she grudgingly shifted herself off of his shoulder. "I should have turned it off," she complained. "I thought they would know better than to call for anything but an emergency."
The phone's shrill tune resounded in Angel's ears. "They do," he said quietly.
Buffy cast him a worried glance and dug the phone out of her purse. She looked at the number showing up on the screen before answering. "Giles?"
The other side of the conversation was faint but clear to Angel. "No, it's Xander. Giles told me to call, we're all here at the store. And, sorry. We would have left you alone but it's an--"
"Emergency," she filled in. "What happened?"
"Daemonis is going to cast the reversal spell. The one that takes the souls out of everyone."
Buffy reeled, but wasted no time in turning to Angel and saying, "Turn around." He didn't argue. He had already slowed enough to pull a U-turn on the deserted road, and when they were facing in the other direction he pressed the gas again and started speeding back towards home.
"That spell was supposed to cost a life," Buffy said to Xander. "He doesn't have a life to sacrifice, this doesn't make any sense."
"Agreed," said Xander, the volume of his voice increasing with anger, "it doesn't. But it's happening. Darla's pulling his strings, and she says it's not going to kill him because he's already dead, and now the rat bastard is going to sell his soul to make it work and he's not supposed to have a soul to sell!"
Buffy swore under her breath, seeming at a loss. "We're, we're coming," she said into the phone.
"Wait," said Xander, "there's more. She said something about how they need Angel's seer for her visions, and one other to help control her."
Angel twisted in his seat so fast that the car swerved. "Where's Cordelia?" he shouted at the phone. "Get her inside someone's house! And Wesley, he has to be the other one!"
"They're safe," was Xander's hurried response, melting a little of Angel's fear. "But Darla and Daemonis might be starting the spell already and we don't know where, except that it's in one of Angel's, uh, 'old haunts.' And Daemonis is still underground but Darla says she can use someone other than him. And they want your blood, but I guess we already knew that. Giles is trying to figure out some way to stop them before it starts, but...just hurry. Buffy, believe me when I say I'm sorry."
"Be sorry when you're the one trying to rip our souls out," she replied. "You guys should go somewhere safer than the store. And stay together. I'll call when we're back in town."
Angel took her hand after she had hung up and tried to think of something encouraging to say. There was nothing encouraging about the thought of losing his soul while he was in the car with Buffy, though, unless she would appreciate knowing that this time she would lose her own soul at the same time. He wasn't sure what a soulless human would be like, having no demon to operate it. He wasn't sure what he would do to Buffy if he were evil and she no longer had the capacity to care. He was sure he was afraid, and that he hated Daemonis with all of his being.
And Darla...he hated her too, but Daemonis was a much easier enemy. Since Darla's reappearance, Angel had dealt with the maelstrom of issues she brought with her mainly by ignoring them, keeping his focus on the facts of the situation instead. The wedding had helped immensely. But now, coping mechanisms were no longer an option, and he was going to have to look at her face again. He just wished he could silence the little part of him that wanted to make her proud of him. He also wished he was driving in the other direction.
"I have a confession to make," said Buffy. "I'm really, really pissed about this, but it's for all the wrong reasons."
He looked at her. She was staring straight ahead, but with such ferocity that she might have been trying to make the road combust by sheer force of will. "I second your confession," he told her.
"Then let's see how fast we can kill us some apocalypse-happy vampires, and get back to the original plan."
