I stumble, groggy from the loss of blood and fall into Angel's arms. He lowers me gently down, so we are sitting on the ground together, my limbs in a tangled mess in his lap.

"Buffy, what…?" He is unable to finish the question, his confusion evident. His arms are around my waist, holding me steady and I think I should be moving away, but somehow I can't bring myself to. It has been so long since I was this close to him that his touch makes my heart skip a beat and his hands burn my skin even through my thick sweater.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in a small voice.

"I live back here now," Angel replies distractedly. "Giles asked if I could look after the Hellmouth when you…left."

"I-I didn't know," stare up at him in disbelief. "I thought Giles was going back to England."

"We managed to persuade him to stay. Buffy," he changes tack again. "Why didn't you fight off that vampire?"

I shrug, tears beginning to form in the back of my eyes. "I don't know."

"But he could have killed you," Angel tightens his grip on me and I think I catch an edge of fear in his voice, though I can't be sure.

"I-I," I try to answer but Angel is looking at me with those eyes. The ones that seem to see straight into my heart, past all the bullshit and the barriers I set up to protect myself, past the blankness that confuses Riley or the false smile that reassures my friends. He is looking and seeing me – Buffy – the girl I thought had died already. I pull away from him. "I have to get back."

"Buffy, wait," he scrambles to his feet after me. "What's going on with you?"

"What's going on with me?" I repeat his question incredulously. "As if you even care."

"Hey, that's not fair you're the one who – " he breaks off abruptly.

"It's okay, you can say it," I yell at him, suddenly enjoying the anger that flows through me. It's so much better than just the empty despair. "I'm the one who got married, who fucked somebody else and had his baby. I'm the one living in Hell here!"

"Buffy…" he flinches in response to my strong words and all the fight evaporates from me as quickly as it came.

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I have to go now. I have to go – they'll be missing me."

He catches hold of my arm, not letting me leave. "Are things really that bad?"

I stand trapped in his gaze like a rabbit trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car. A lie forms on my lips, but I choke on the words before I can say them. Angel won't believe me, anyway, he'll just press harder and harder until the truth comes spilling out in all its horrific glory. "I wanted to die just now," I whisper so softly that I'm not even sure of he's heard until his fingers dig painfully into my arm, an involuntary tightening of his already vice-like grasp of my wrist. "I wanted it all to be over."

"All what to be over?"

I shake my head. "The loneliness, the helplessness, the reality of all your hopes and dreams being ripped away from you." Tears stream down my cheeks and he pulls me close to his chest, wrapping me in his strong embrace.

"Shush, Buffy," he soothes me. "You're all right. Everything's going to be okay…"

"How? How is everything going to be okay?" I ask, my voice muffled by his silk shirt. Riley always wears cotton shirts – they're rough and stiff with starch and they scratch my skin. Not like the materials Angel wears. Cool, smooth leather like a second layer of skin and soft silks and velvets that slide over his flawless, muscular flesh. And they always smell like him – not like acrid bleach or sickly sweet fabric conditioner, but spicy, musky scents that soak luxuriously into my senses.

"We'll work something out," Angel reassures me. "I'm here."

"Are you?" I lift my head from his chest to look up with uncertain eyes. "Are you really here, and this isn't just some cruel joke, because I don't know what to believe anymore."

He emits a small, pained groan, like my words have physically hurt him. "What happened to you, Buffy? What destroyed so much of you in such a short time?"

"Love," I reply with a short hysterical laugh. "My heart did this to me."

~~~

I sit cross-legged on the hearthrug in front of the mansion's blazing fire, my bloodstained sweater replaced with on of those shirts of Angel's that I treasure so much. I used to love to wear his clothes – it made me feel so close to him, like I was carrying around a little piece of him wherever I went, like he belonged to me. Now I feel safe and cared for as he gently cleans the wound on my neck, taping a clean, white bandage over it.

"Will it scar?" I ask, mainly to break the heavy silence that hangs between us.

Angel shakes his head. "No, it shouldn't do."

"Yours did," I remind him, a little more harshly than I intended.

"All done," he inspects his medical efforts, deliberately ignoring my comment. Yet another issue in the long Buffy and Angel history that we can't talk about. Chalk it up on the list along with me on the end of the heavy steel sword that sent him to Hell and the night of my seventeenth birthday. It kills me not to be able to mention these things. Not to admit how I cried every night for months and months, when I thought he was dead and my soul was being torn apart with guilt and grief. I want to be able to speak about the night of my birthday too – our one and only together – about how much I needed him inside me then and how afterwards I ached for him, longed to feel his touch and his kisses once more.

"So, where do you want to start?" He interrupts my thoughts, just as they strayed further into forbidden territory, into memories of cool hands and soft lips, of hard angles and smooth, pale skin.

"Start?"

"With what happened to you."

"Oh," I nod vaguely. "How about at the beginning?"

"Beginnings are good," he reaches out to brush my arm gently with his fingertips, the brief contact sending an electric current straight through my body.

I gaze over into the flames, watching them flicker and dance, the golden glow they cast still not enough to warm the coldness inside of me. My mouth twists into an ironic smile. "I met this guy and I fell in love with him and I haven't been able to stop since."

Angel looks a little puzzled. "I take it you're not talking about Riley here."

I laugh in response – it was either that or burst into tears. "No, not Riley."

Angel nods curtly and looks away from me, his turn to study the fire. "Don't you want to know who I mean?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wary, his shoulders hunched. "None of my business."

"You," I tell him in a voice no stronger than a whisper, touching his knee lightly with my hand. "It's always been you."

"Buffy," he replies with a strangled moan, shuffling back away from me.

"Don't worry," I say caustically. "I'm not going to jump you. You wanted to know what was wrong and I'm telling you. I'm sick of pretending – pretending to love Riley, to care about his child, to live a life I never wanted in the first place. I'm tired of feeling so goddamn lonely all the time."

"You're not alone," Angel interjects.

I glance over at him with an ironic smile, twisting the hem of his shirt between my fingers as I do so. "Yes I am. I'm alone because there's nobody who truly knows me, nobody who can see inside me head and understand what I'm thinking and how I'm feeling. People say they care about me, but they don't. They only care about the happy Buffy, the one that used to slay vampires and make the world a safer place, or that took them dancing at the Bronze, or that pretended she was pleased to be marrying a man she never loved and to be having his child. If they really knew the person I am then they wouldn't want anything to do with me."

"You don't know that."

"Oh, believe me – I do."

He stands up, holding his hand out to me. I take it and he walks me over to the sofa. We sit down together his hand holding mine for a few beats longer than necessary. "Try me," he offers. "Tell me what's really going on with you. After all, I'm not exactly in a position to judge am I?"

I hesitate slightly, in a way Angel is right, if there's anybody who could make sense of the confused mess inside my head it's him. But, I don't want to let him see my darker side, I want to stay perfect in his eyes, with all the purity and innocence I had when I met him. I suppose I'm afraid that he'll stop loving me, that he'll realise I'm not worthy of him.

"Come on," he prompts, taking hold of my hand once more. "There's nothing you could possibly say that would make me think any less of you."

I swallow deeply, the need to unburden my soul outweighing anything else. "I wanted to kill him," I blurt out. "I couldn't stand it any longer – I wanted to kill my own baby, make him stop crying, just have everything go back to the way it was…" I start to weep, tearing my hand away from Angel's in order to cover my face.

He pulls me gently into his arms and I fight him a little at first, trying desperately to pull away. I don't deserve to be comforted for this, I deserve to rot in Hell for eternity. I wish he'd let that vampire drain me this evening, I wish I was a corpse in a graveyard right now, with nothing left except bones and dead flesh. With all the pain and emptiness gone.

"I'm just like Faith," I choke out. "I'm a murderer. I'm evil."

He grabs my flailing arms and holds me still, forcing me to look at him. "Listen to me, Buffy," he orders. "You're not any of those things – and neither was Faith. You're just a girl. A girl who's hurting. Who needs help."

"You don't understand," I shake my head vehemently. "You don't know what it's like – "

"What it's like to want to kill," Angel interrupts. "To feel the itch underneath your skin and know that you have the power to take somebody's life away in an instant. To feel the adrenaline rush that comes with that power. To have seen so much death that it ceases to shock, that it just becomes a part of who you are. To know that it's only the most tenuous concept of right and wrong that stops you lashing out at all." He takes a deep breath in. "Oh, no, I know nothing about that."

"It's different."

"How is it different?" He asks in a softer voice.

"It's not you that feels this way – it's the demon inside you."

Angel smiles slightly. "And it's the essence of the Slayer inside you. How long has it been since the last time you went out slaying?"

I scrunch my face up in thought. "Before tonight? Eight, maybe nine months."

"Maybe you should take it up again," he suggests. "When Slayers first came about they weren't supposed to be normal girls with normal lives. The Kill was their life and they were given the strength and power to make that possible. You can't ignore your birthright, Buffy. Faith tried and it drove her to the point of psychosis – she didn't recognise who she was anymore. I don't want to see the same thing happen to you."

His words strike a chord within me. I am beginning to lose sight of exactly who I am. I'm lost in a swirl of confusion over what I'm supposed to be doing and what my responsibilities are. Am I a mother or a Slayer? A wife or a lover? And in this medley of different roles, where's Buffy gone?

"Angel?" I ask in a small voice. "Do you think I'll ever get better?"

He emits a deep chuckle, and I can feel the sound rumbling low in his chest where I lean my face against it. "Of course you will, just give it a little time, okay? And remember, I'm here for you if you need me."

I do, I think as I snuggle deeper into his reassuring embrace. I definitely do need you – so much.

~~~

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Giles looks disapprovingly at me over the top of his glasses.

"Yes," I sigh exasperatedly, repeating my argument for about the tenth time in as many minutes. "I really think it'll help for me to start slaying again. And Angel will be there to look out for me, so you don't have to worry about that."

"What does Riley think about it?"

"He's fine," I answer evasively. In fact Riley wasn't fine at all, he was horrified by the idea. I think he wants me to be the typical little wife, staying home and caring for the kids, not going out killing demons every night. But I told him this is who I am and he has to accept it and in the end he did, if not a little grudgingly. "I haven't mentioned Angel to him, though," I tell Giles. "To say they don't really get along with one another would be about the understatement of the decade, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention anything on that score."

"Really, Buffy," Giles exhibits his trademark displeased frown. "I don't feel comfortable keeping secrets like this."

"Oh, like you didn't feel comfortable keeping the secret that Angel moved back to Sunnydale in the first place?" I ask sarcastically, causing Giles to blush.

"Yes, well, I thought it best not to, uh, raise the subject. Perhaps in hindsight I was wrong."

"And you're wrong again here," I insist. "I want to slay again and you can't stop me." I soften my words with a small smile. "I would like it if you'd go back to helping me, though. Research has never really been my area of expertise."

Giles still appears unconvinced. "Are you absolutely positive you're ready for this, because Riley told me – "

"Riley's been talking to you? Behind my back?" I interrupt incredulously.

"He was worried about you. He told me what the doctors said – about you being depressed."

My expression clouds over momentarily. "I'm fine."

"People who are fine don't slash their hands open on liquor bottles."

"Well, you'd know, wouldn't you!" I shoot back at him angrily, making an oblique reference to the bottle of bourbon I noticed him hide quickly away after I arrived. "I was upset," I continue in a steely voice. "It was an accident – everything's okay now."

"Have you been taking the medicine the doctor gave to you?"

I think of the vial filled with all those tiny, tiny pills, little packages of chemicals meant to cure all ills in the world, meant to wipe away my feelings and replace them with simulated well being. I remember tipping them out into my hand and staring at them for hours, as if I could look at them for long enough and they'd tell me all their secrets, how exactly they're meant to change the nightmare that is my life. Then I tipped them all back in the bottle and shoved them, untouched, into the deepest recesses of my purse. "Yes," I lie. "I've been taking my meds – and they seem to be helping."

Giles nods. "Good. I'm glad." He rubs the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "I'm still not entirely convinced but if you want to slay again, then nothing I say or do is going to change your mind. Please don't go out alone though – at least not until you're back to full strength."

I smile gratefully at him. "I won't, I promise."

~~~

Getting away from Riley that evening is difficult. He wants to come with me – ostensibly to protect me, until I point out that my distraction at his presence will probably only put me in more, rather than less, danger. I lie straight to his face; telling him that Giles is coming with me and that he's given full support to the scheme. And my deceit doesn't even cause me to feel a single twinge of guilt.

I meet up with Angel in the cemetery. A whole hundred yards away I see his figure silhouetted against the moon, his body as sturdy and tall as always, his long black coat flapping in the slight breeze, his pale skin glinting silver under the light from the stars. And the memories come flooding back, of so many other nights spent like this, of the adrenaline of the fight and the feel of his lips pressed hard upon mine, of the soft rain of vampire dust on my skin and the tingling in my loins for him. My mouth curves up in a smile and I feel alive once more.

"Hey there you," I greet him with the first signs of cheerfulness I have shown in a long time. It feels good to be out of the house, to be doing something just for me – for Buffy – not for Riley or the baby or Mom or anyone else. I feel liberated, away from the claustrophobia of being a wife and a mother, free to roam in the cool night air.

"Hey," Angel returns. "You ready."

"As I'll ever be."

The first vampire we encounter, Angel leaves to me, hovering close by in case I find myself in any trouble. I don't. My technique is rusty and probably not at all graceful to look at, but through brute force and sheer determination alone, I dispatch the thing in a matter of seconds.

"Feel better now?" Angel cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Much, thanks," I grin back, and it's true. Out here I can forget whatever else is going on in my life and concentrate solely on the fight, the kill, the lingering feel of Angel at the edge of my senses. It's a catharsis of all my bottled up emotions and better than any therapy a doctor could have dreamed up for me.

Two more vampires come, three, four, a couple of demons, and Angel and I beat them all. My movements become smoother, more instinctive and synchronised with Angel's. This is good, I think as I pound a vampire in the stomach. This is what I was missing before; the exhilaration, the exertion, the chance to let go of all my inhibitions and just be myself. Just be Buffy. Just be the Slayer. Just be.

The vampire catches me by surprise with a sudden counterattack, knocking me to the ground. I spin quickly away, grabbing hold of his ankles and dragging him down with me. I roll on top of him, shoving a stake easily through his heart. The actions are totally automatic and without thought, and I am almost surprised when the vamp explodes into dust in my face.

Angel reaches down a hand to help me up. "Are you all right?" He asks anxiously.

I nod, still slightly dazed and struggling to regain my breath. Tilting my head upwards to offer Angel further reassurances it suddenly hits me how close we are standing to one another and how our hands are still joined. I fall head over heels into his concerned gaze, my heart beginning to race for a reason totally separate to my recent fighting.

Angel appears stunned into silence too, an unnecessary breath catching in his throat. I let my thumb idly start to rub his wrist, feeling for the nonexistent pulse point there. He responds by tightening his grip on my fingers. "I missed you," I whisper softly.

My eyes flutter shut for a moment and the next thing I know we are kissing, my tongue exploring his mouth, his lips cool against mine, my body pressed up alongside his, his arms wrapped around my waist. After what seems like both an eternity and an instant, we pull apart, both shaking perceptibly.

"We shouldn't have done that," Angel shakes his head, but makes no move to extradite himself from my embrace.

"I know," I reply, resting my cheek upon his chest as I do so. "I know."

~~~

We stay a week longer in Sunnydale, every night of which I spend on patrol with Angel. It is like being sixteen again. We slay the vampires then lie for hours afterwards on the damp ground between the graves, gazing up at the stars, holding each other, exchanging sweet kisses that neither of us can find the strength to resist. I find myself thinking about the future – something I haven't done since that summer before college, since he left me. At some point I decided the future was too difficult to face and would only focus on the next day, the next hour, the next five minutes. Now, though, I start to make plans again, have dreams and fantasies.

These are all pretty Angel-related at first. At Mom's house with Riley and the baby, I occupy my thoughts with visions of that night's patrol. I picture the sky, huge and empty above Angel and me, making all the heartache and constraint between us suddenly seem utterly insignificant. I imagine the feel of his hand in mine, his cool touch and soft lips. And when Riley comments how much happier I suddenly seem, I only smile a secret smile and let him kiss me lightly on the cheek before heading out to meet my lover.

My lover. I mean, Angel's still cursed, so we can't do anything that would officially make him my lover, but in my heart the title is his and always has been. We don't need to have sex to know that we love each other or to feel the fiery passion for one another that burns just under our flesh. Riley and I have had plenty of sex, enough to make my stomach churn with guilt whenever I think of it in relation to Angel even though it's actually Riley who I married, Riley who I vowed fidelity and loyalty to, not Angel. And the sex was good, as far as my limited experience goes, anyway. It wasn't earth shattering, not like my first time when everything was new and terrifying and deliciously forbidden, and I cried in his arms afterwards because I was so happy, because I'd seen into his soul and found only love for me there… But with Riley I discovered that physical part of myself that enjoyed the act no matter who it was with – my inner slut, I guess. The one that got me into this mess in the first place.

No matter how many times I shared Riley's bed, however, or how often he made me come, we never had that spark. We never felt electricity arc between us like I do every time I simply brush Angel's hand. We never had that deep emotional connection that lets us see each other's hearts like I can do when I gaze into Angel's eyes. That's what makes somebody your lover, the little things: the way he knows instinctively when you need to be held and when he should back away, the way you can both close your eyes and your lips will still find one another's, the way your legs turn to jelly when he traces feather-light fingers down your spine. For now I dream about sex with Angel, but when I wake up I can cope pretty well without actually having it.

Angel holds me in his arms in his – our ­– bed at the mansion. And it doesn't bother me at all that these moments are all we have. These moments are so precious, so much more than I had ever hoped or expected for that I cannot begrudge a single one of them. Just a small slice of Angel is enough, just knowing that he loves me and wants me as much as I love and want him, is better than any sex could ever be.

"You go back to Iowa tomorrow," Angel says flatly.

"I don't want to think about that," I offer the same blanket denial I have been giving him all week. I don't want to think about Riley and Caleb and the house with the white-picket fence and the half-repainted shutters.

"Well, you're going to have to," he insists.

"You're worried about us." I state.

"Is there even an us?"

I twist my head and plant a light kiss to the side of his jaw. "What do you think?"

"I think you're married to somebody else…"

I pull away from him, my eyes flashing with abrupt anger. "Yes, and I'm the Slayer and you're a vampire and you're still cursed. I've heard all the arguments, Angel. And you know what? I still don't care. Maybe it's stupid and misguided and all going to end in tears but…I love you," my voice softens. "I can't remember how it feels to not love you. And I can't live without you anymore."

He says nothing for a long time, quietly holding my hand in his, and a deep feeling of dread starts to build in the pit of my belly. God, he's going to break-up with me again. Please no, I only just got him back, I can't lose him again so soon. It nearly destroyed me before – I won't make it through this time.

"You have a son," he finally replies. "He and Riley need you."

I shake my head, offering a small smile. "Uh-uh, I actually think they'll be better off without me."

"A child should be with his mother," Angel is adamant. "Families should stay together."

I try to make a joke, even though my stomach is flip-flopping back and forth with fear. "I'd forgotten exactly how old fashioned you are."

"You can't just leave them," Angel answers seriously.

"And I can't just leave you either," I lean over and kiss him softly on the lips. "These few days with you, I've felt better than I have in months."

"But it's only been a week, who knows what'll happen in the future…"

I shake my head. "Let's face that as it comes. I don't want to make big plans for the rest of my life, Angel. I just want moments like these when we're holding each other and nothing else matters. That's all I've ever wanted."

I kiss him again and this time he kisses me back, twisting his hand in my hair and taking my lower lip into his mouth. My heart soars, safe in the knowledge that he is mine, and this time he's not going to fight it.

"So, what happens tomorrow then?" He asks when we pull apart.

"I guess, I go back to Iowa with Riley and I think of you every day," I stroke the side of his face gently, keeping my eyes fixed on his. "And I miss you so much that it makes me ache inside. Then we call and write, until we can see each other again."

"And when will that be?"

"As soon as you come up to Iowa to visit."

~~~

Leaving the mansion that night was difficult, every time I would turn to go Angel would catch my lips in a finally goodbye kiss and half an hour would fly by without us even noticing where it went. Eventually, I made my way back to Mom's around daybreak and crawled into bed next to Riley's sleeping form, pretending the following morning I had returned much earlier.

The lies come so naturally to me now, I suppose I should be a little worried. I always used to be a terrible liar. I would stutter and giggle and turn an attractive shade of puce, and nobody who knew me was ever the slightest bit fooled. But with Riley the lies trip easily off my tongue without a moment's thought. Yes, honey, I've been taking the medication. Spike came on patrol with me last night – we had a little trouble with a gang of vamps, that's why I was late. Of course, I'm happy to be heading back home. I love you…

Little tiny seeds of doubt creep into my mind every so often. I feel guilty, like what I'm doing is wrong, even though I know exactly how right it actually is. I need Angel – that's the bottom line here. He makes me feel whole, complete. He's the only person in my entire world who has the capacity to take away my loneliness and breathe new life into my dead heart. Sparing all the romantic notions and metaphors, the basic truth is that I love him. I always have loved him and just being with him is enough to counterbalance all the rest of the crappy stuff I have to face.

So, I can't give that up. I tried it and it slowly began to destroy me inside. But I'm not the same naïve sixteen year old I was when I first fell in love either. I know nothing has changed between Angel and me, nothing but our resolve to stay apart. And now I have other responsibilities too. I can't abandon my child and my husband. I owe Riley much more than that; after all, he's always been good to me. He married me without question when I became pregnant. He always loved me and respected me and never let me down. I suppose in return for all this I owe him my fidelity too, but some parts of me just aren't left to give. Riley gets my body and my child, my friendship and my appearance as his wife. Angel gets my heart and soul and as many breathless kisses and whispered I love yous as we can steal. Maybe it's not the fairest of deals, but it's the only one I can offer right now.

To be continued…