Shannon, County Clare, Ireland

Fifteen Hours and Forty-Five Minutes Later

British Airways

"They're going to kill us."

Angel turned his head to Buffy sitting beside him near the special glass window of the airliner. "They'll get over it. Besides, we left a note." Angel justified giving her hand a light squeeze.

Buffy rolled her eyes with a huff, "Yeah, okay, leaving a note that says, 'Gone to Ireland, call you later' isn't exactly—"

"Exactly what? There was never going to be another way without being bombarded with a thousand questions. I can just hear Giles and Wesley tag-teaming trying to convince us that this was a terrible idea — and maybe it is. But this is an idea I think is worth trying. We've exhausted all of the others."

Buffy did not respond for a long while considering his words carefully. She released a heavy breath and nodded her head with agreement. "You're right. Screw them."

"Sin é mo chailín. (That's my girl.)" Angel smiled at her and kissed the back of her hand.

A ping sounded through the aircraft speakers gathering the passengers attention. A moment later, the crackling the intercom pierced the hull of the plane.

"This is your Captain speaking." A deep gravelly mumbled through the speakers. "We're beginning our descend down to the runway. The time is 7:45 p.m. on the 15th of October. The weather is cloudy with a chance of rain. The high is fourteen degrees Celsius. Welcome to Ireland."

Buffy turned from the window to Angel and asked, "How'd you know about this sort of… flight?" She tossed her eyes to the seats filled with demons and other supernatural creatures.

"Everyone knows about this flight. How else do you think we demons get across the ocean?"

With a frown, Buffy shrugged, "I don't know. I guess I never really thought about it." Her frown deepened catching the hostile glare from an eight eye demon sitting across the aisle and two seats up. "Kind of ironic if you think about it; the Slayer trapped with a bunch of demons and we're just sitting here. It's all very… civil."

"Are you just having these thoughts now?" Angel eyed her with amusement. "Grá, we've been on this flight for fifteen and a half hours. The most these demons have done is snarl in your direction. And the flight attendant didn't even sabotage your peanuts. That has to mean something."

"That's true. Those peanuts were really good."

"I bet they were, you had six packets of them." He teased.

Buffy scrunched her nose pretending to be offended. "They were tiny packets."

Angel chuckled as Buffy turned her head to look back out the window when another thought popped into her head. "Is there a car or something waiting for us? Or do we need to get a rental? Or are we taking the bus? Are we meeting that Shrouded Man-guy when we get there or—"

Angel took her hand he held and brought it to his lips trying to ease her nerves. "Tá sé ar fad a glacadh de chúram, mo ghile. (It's all taken care of, my darling.)" His easy smile quickly faded from his lips as Buffy glared at him with unblinking eyes, clearly unsatisfied with his response. "We have a car waiting for us. It's an hour and a half drive to Galway. I confirmed our appointment with an Herbalist who is a woman named, Maura Callaghan tomorrow afternoon. It'll be fine." Thinking he had finally succeeded to ease her nerves, Angel sat back and waited patiently for the airplane to land.

"What do herbs have to do with getting our children back?" Buffy asked.

"It's just another name for a witch."

"Then we could've just used Willow."

Angel shook his head and explained, "No, we could not. An Herbalist uses magics in their purest forms. Using the earth's own soil and remedies. Unlike the magics Willow uses, an Herbalist has no need to request permission to cross dimensional barriers."

"Like talking to the guards of the Good Guys and the Bad Guys?" Angel nodded his head as Buffy pieced together the information. "An Herbalist is just cutting out the middle man and jumping straight to the point?"

Angle nodded his head. "Precisely. I could've done the magics myself but then we'd have to the face the Oracles. With an Herbalist, we're just skipping a few steps." He watched as Buffy slowly nodded her head with understanding. She looked out the window again thinking about the Herbalist, Maura Callaghan.

The silence between them did not last long, Buffy turned from the window again and asked, "Where are we staying? And we never thought of that nor the sun! We didn't even think about that! You can't walk around in the sun because you're you and you'll fry and I really can't have that and—"

Angel leaned over the armrest between their seats capturing her mouth into silence.

As the kiss slowly came to its natural end, Buffy nuzzled her nose against his dreamily smiling. Her tiny fist grabbed a handful of his shirt keeping him close.

"Relax, mo ghrá." He whispered against her mouth. "I checked the weather. It'll be conveniently rainy and cloudy all week. No chance of the sun shinning during our stay. I've already booked a room at a bed and breakfast that is located in town." Angel pushed the strands of her long blonde hair behind her ear. "Is there anything else?"

Buffy closed her eyes shaking her head 'no'. The yearn to kiss his seductive mouth once more was all-consuming. She let out a small breath.

"It's going to be fine." Angel assured her with a smirk.

"Tá brú mhór san lá."

"Tá stráice mhór san oíche. (There is a grand stretch in the evenin's.) You were very close." Angel smirked taking amusement in her horrible Americanized-Gaelic. For eight years, he had tried so, so hard to teach her the native language, but she was hopeless. Noam Chomsky couldn't even teach her.

Folding her arms across her chest, Buffy's childish pout deepened. "Oh and when you say it, it's right? Whatever..." Buffy scoffed turning her eyes back out the window, ignoring his amused chuckles.

A moment of silence passed between them when Angel noticed the worry line across her forehead. "What is it now?" He asked her with a patient voice.

Buffy released a soft breath and shifted her eyes to his. "I'm scared." She quietly admitted.

"I know." Angel leaned over the armrest and lightly brushed his lips over her again, hoping to somehow ease her fears. But he knew until they had their children wrapped in their arms, it was useless to try to calm his nervous wife.

Galway, Ireland

An Hour and a Half Later

Town

Buffy stared wide-eyed out the windshield window of the rental car to the popular city they were approaching. The buildings looked familiar but very different from her memories. They were painted with vibrant colours. The butcher's shop that used to be owned by the McGregor's was now the Bank of Ireland. The streets were overwhelmingly filled with residents and tourists. It was a strange yet familiar sight to see. The cobblestone streets of Galway were always filled.

"Pull the car over." Buffy gently demanded.

Angel rounded the car into the nearest parking space and searched for a parking meter sign. He turned the ignition key and stepped out of the car first followed by Buffy.

Buffy couldn't tear her eyes away from the crowded streets trying to figure out where her memories met reality. So distracted, Buffy hadn't noticed Angel placing her coat onto her shoulders. "Oh, thank you." She said poking her arms through the coat sleeves.

"C'mon, we've still got time." Angel said taking her hand into his own.

For the first time in over two hundred years, the O'Connor's walked the streets of Galway.


During the aimless journey down memory lane, Buffy pointed to various things around her that she had remembered.

She stopped letting go of Angel's hand and stepped in front of him. She turned, oblivious to the people to the right of them reading a plaque.

"This is it." Buffy said with a widening smile.

"This is it?" Angel's brows here up his forehead with surprise. "Right here?"

"Yeah-huh. This is where I went into labor with Connor." Buffy laughed. "Yeah, I was standing right here, because behind me," She pointed in the opposite direction she was facing. "Was the… flower kiosk and right down there," Buffy pointed her finger past Angel. "was the… white horse Katie was combing and then I…" Her joyous smile began to fade. "… and then I went into labor…" She took a deep breath and went on with the memory. "And uh, Mrs… oh I forget her name — one of Lady Morgan's friends... Well, she was the one who helped me get to the doctor." Buffy pointed down the street to the sign that was now a clothing boutique. "Right down there."

Angel's smile slipped from his mouth hating the sadness that plagued his beloved. He stepped forward and kissed her forehead. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders hugging her into his body. "Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat?"

"Sure." Buffy said with a whispering voice not really feeling hungry.

"Teacht ar, grá. (Come on, love.)" Angel held her close and walked down the cobblestone street unsure where his feet were taking him.

Unbeknownst to them, the people reading the plaque from behind watched the couple walk away with huge eyes. The information in front of them recounted that exact scene Buffy had described.


It's been so long since Angel's been back to his hometown. Centuries. Oddly enough, the fish market smells were the same while everything else around him, plagued his memories with grief. The memories of tearing the town apart flashed behind his eyes. He ripped the town into shreds out of furious rage. It was known as the Massacre of 1753. There were very few witnesses left to tell the tale which soon became legend.

In Angelus' deep depression, he began to convince himself Darla's cruel words about Buffy were true. How Buffy had moved on, taking the children with her, forgetting him.

The memories of his brutally and anguish seemed to constantly overshadow the great happiness he had when he was living and breathing.

Tavern

The couple walked arm and arm down the cobblestone street, when they came to a halt mid-step coming face to face with the beloved Tavern they had once owned. It looked exactly the same much to their amazement. At least the outside was the same. The wooden pillared frame, the cobblestone wall, and the wooden sign hanging over the tall wooden door that read: TAVERN.

"Whoa." Buffy broke the silence between them.

"Yeah." Angel said with agreement.

The couple stared at the Tavern too shocked to move. They were oblivious to the visiting families and locals pushing past them, entering the popular pub.

"Are you, uh, ready to go in?" Buffy tore her eyes from the Tavern to Angel's face.

Angel swallowed with a bit of nervous anticipation and nodded his head. "Yeah... Okay." Feeling his nerves, Buffy slipped her fingers around his hand giving it a squeeze. "You go first." Angel said watching her take the first step towards the entrance door. Angel released an unneeded breath and followed her inside. It would the first time in two hundred and forty-eight years he'd be stepping foot into the pub again.


Every round and square table was filled with tourists and locals. The Tavern was thunderous with people laughing and talking over one another. Local Irish musicians played familiar folk tunes dating back centuries in the background. Every inch of the wall space of the pub was covered with casings of authentic instruments from long ago, various portraits of past owners and famous residents, wooden shop signs, and other memorabilia from around the town. It was a bit of history for 'the city of the Tribes'.

"Doesn't look to have changed much." Buffy leaned whispering into Ange's ear.

"Yeah..." Angel said, not really listening. His eyes went to two empty stools at the bar. "C'mere." He held his hand to her lower back and gently guiding her to the open stools at the bar counter. "Do you want a pint?" Angel asked as his eyes wandered around.

Buffy eyed him for a moment. "Ask me again with an Irish accent." She lightly teased him trying desperately to suppress the smile forming around her mouth.

Angel turned his head to her with surprise. A smile washed over his handsome face. "Is that what ye want, lassie? Me to seduce ye with me Irish brogue?" He drew himself closer to her wrapping an arm around her waist. His hand pulled back her long hair from her shoulder. His lips traveled from her shoulder, across her cheek until finding its destination at her lips.

"That's exactly what I want." She laughed between their kisses.

Angel smiled against her mouth and deepened the kiss enjoying the shivering sensation that traveled down his spine.

"Oye, sorry to interrupt ye two. Can I get ye somethin'?"

The couple broke apart turning their heads to the Barman standing behind the counter. It was then, they noticed a few colonial looking fellas walking around the Tavern, joining random tables with a good and hearty laugh.

"Aye, me and the lady will take two pints of ale." Angel said letting his native accent slip back into his words. It took him over a hundred years to break free from the accent. Only to bring it back within minutes of arriving to his homeland. Great, it's goin' to take me another hundred years to get rid of it again. Angel internally rolled his eyes.

The Barman nodded pulling out two pewter beer mugs and placed them under the tap lever that hadn't aged a day.

"Is that original?" Angel asked the Barman pointing at the beer tap.

"Aye, it is. I reckon everythin' in this pub is original. From the stools to the coatrack in the back." The Barman slid the ales across the counter. "I'll have ye know, the second owner of this fine establishment still has his coat and hat on the coatrack hooks. Two hundred plus years later and its still untouched."

"Is that so?" Angel said with curiosity. "Can I see it?"

The Barman thought for a moment of the request and with a shrug he said, "I don't see why not." He waved for Angel to follow him to the back.

Angel looked at Buffy for a moment waiting for her approval. "Go." She shooed him away.

With a grand smile, Angel followed the Barman leaving Buffy alone at the bar.


Angel rounded the corner to the coatrack hooks to see a familiar leather tricorn hat sitting on top of a black coat.

"After the owner died, no one had the heart to remove his hat and coat. He was a beloved man with the people of this town. His entire family in fact." The Barman added.

"Was it ever mentioned how he died?" Angel asked running a ghostly touch over the tricorn hat.

"There are legends. The most well known legend is that he hadn't died at all..." The Barman trailed off studying Angel's profile for a moment. Angel's extending hand turned the Barman's attention. Angel reached inside the fragile coats inner pocket. The Barman started to open his mouth with objection when Angel pulled out a tiny pocket picture frame. "Whoa. How did ye—" The words died on his lips.

Angel held the tiny picture frame in his hand and turned it over. The glass was stained with age. He turned it over to the back and unhinged the tiny locks around it and took off the back.

He held the small portrait drawing of a woman. She was sitting by the window smiling at him. Angel closed his eyes clearly seeing himself sitting in bed sketching this portrait of Buffy on the edge of a piece of paper. She was opening the windows and she sat on the edge looking out to the bright early morning then smiled back at him.

"Good thing no one ever thought to check the pockets." Angel smirked at the Barman and walked away leaving him speechless where he stood.

The Barman turned his head with huge eyes staring at Angel's back as if he had just seen a ghost.


Angel stepped out from around the backroom and noticed a group of colonial dressed men swooning around his wife. Some things never change. He thought to himself as a jolt of jealousy pounded against his chest.

"Angel!" Buffy said turning her head from the flirting men still laughing at whatever was said. "You're back!"

Angel noticed one more empty beer mug beside the original mug he had gotten for her. Was I away for that long? He wondered.

"Aye, I am." He scowled glaring at the men drooling over Buffy's shoulder. "I see ye've made friends."

"Oh, they're nothing." She waved at them uncaringly. "Boys." Buffy tilted her head to the side wrapping her hand around his arm. "Besides, I like you." Her chin rested on his shoulder. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Never removing his eyes from the smugly smiling men, Angel took out the drawing from his inner pocket and placed it down in front of Buffy.

"Oh my god." Buffy stared at the drawing with wide eyes. "Good thing no one ever thought to check the pockets." She smiled at him.

"I said the same thing."

Angel narrowed his eyes over another colonial looking man standing across the room. He had long dark brown hair tied back with a ribbon. He wore a black frock coat, matching breeches with a pair of white stockings, and a pair of black shoes with a silver buckle. He did not appear to be a wealthy man but a man of the upper middle class. The man wore a large smile having total attention of the room.

Is that supposed to be me? Angel's frown deepened. What is this place?