CHAPTER ONE: ADAPTING
Willow set a cup of tea down in front of Buffy, who gladly accepted it and drank deeply from it, embracing it's warmth as a false comfort for the time being. They had returned to the Magic Box after their transformation, researching the various causes - and cures - of their situation, but only found dead ends. After returning to Buffy's home, they had even gone as far to call Giles, only to find that he too had been changed, and that the altered Watcher's Council had contacted him in almost a hysterical manner, needing his expertise in finding a solution.
Buffy sighed, wondering what else could go wrong with her life. Dawn hadn't been changed, which was the most puzzling thing of all. But everyone else in the world had...or at least, every adult. The news hadn't been on at first due to the initial shock, but it aired featuring a prepubescent anchorwoman. Buffy wasn't interested in hearing what she already knew. She wanted answers.
"I'm sure we can fix this, Buffy. We have lots of other times."
Buffy regarded Willow's assuring resolve, smiling a bit. "I know. I just can't figure out who could have done this. I mean, what's the point? We overdose on developmental hormones?" She looked over at Willow, who sat beside her with her own cup of tea. "We're in trouble, Will. I've lost my abilities. I wasn't called to be a Slayer at this age. I couldn't fight if I wanted to."
"We can still hack and slash, right?" Anya chimed in.
"Slice and dice, julienne style, or just basically cut. We've got plenty of sharp objects." Xander said.
"Well, Giles said that there's an unnatural shortage of vampires at the moment." Willow said.
"A shortage?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah. The spell or whatever seemed to affect them too. If they weren't turned at a young age, then they just ceased to exist."
"Talk about the drawbacks of old age." Buffy's eyes widened in realization. "Spike...Angel...oh my God..."
"Hey," Willow rested a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Everything will be all right. All we have to do is reverse whatever supernatural enchantment there is, and everything will be back to normal. We just have to do it before-..."
"Before what?"
"...before our minds catch up, or rather go back, with our bodies. And the current hormones in our body really don't help."
"I've had enough teenage angst for one lifetime, thank you." Anya stated.
"As have I," said Xander, " Will, anything in the Wiccan's handbook that might be helpful?"
"Tara's looking into it now. I hope she's okay. She drove over there and sorta had a problem touching the pedals."
"Let's hope the Munchkin doesn't crash on the Yellow Brick Road."
Willow looked down, and Buffy sent a glare Xander's way. Xander knelt by his friend, holding her hand. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid joke. I'm sure she'll be fine. I was just kidding around. I'm a kidder. It's what I do. I kid. Much with the kiddage."
"Okay, kidder, get up. Giles and the Council can do more than we can, especially since Giles has most of the books. We just have to sit back and see what happens."
Just then, a knock came upon the Summers' door. Buffy looked over at Dawn, who was still talking to Giles, taking notes all the while. She looked at the door, hobbling over to it tiredly. As she opened it, she saw a strange boy she'd never seen before.
He was tall, at least sixteen years of age, his long black duster swaying slightly in the breeze created by the colossal downpour of rain that battered him, his clothes clinging tightly to his broad form. His ensemble was as black as the twilight, form-fitting jeans and a silk shirt accenting the steep curvature of his well-developed muscles, a hint of his chiseled, stone-defined chest revealed teasingly through the top two unfastened buttons of his silken garment.
His illuminant yet dark eyes, flecked with silver as if to signify all the tears the sadness of his tortured soul had caused, shone with unadulterated joy as they fell upon Buffy. His angelic features seemed so youthful now...far from his usual granite composure. He was indeed different from his normally intense and brooding manner. He lifted a steady alabaster hand, running it through his slightly unkempt yet drenched coal-black locks, standing perfectly still as he surveyed her.
"I need to talk to you."
"Who are you?"
"Buffy...it's me. Angel."
-----
At the hospital, a young nurse was trying to persuade her converted associate to operate among the panic of both the patients and staff alike. She strained to talk to the doctor over the loud sobs of the hundreds of teenagers filling the hospital.
"Doctor Gonzales, you have to! If you don't, she'll die!"
"Look at me, woman! I'm a damn child! How can I function enough to save that girl's life when my hands are too small to precisely operate on a automobile accident victim? It's a delicate procedure and it needs someone who can assuredly do the job. There must be someone else!"
"They're all breaking down, just like you. Doctor, please!"
The boy held his head in his hands, weeping. Meanwhile, an adolescent Tara laid lifeless on a gurney as blood trickled from a piece of gauze on her forehead, the heartbeat recorded by the monitor above her slowly ceasing.
-----
Buffy slipped on a light blue nightgown over her head, not in the least bit bashful about her naked body being seen by Angel. She smoothed the fabric out over her curves, walking to the bed from her closet and sitting, rubbing her neck a bit.
"It's a good thing Mom kept some of my old clothes handy." she said, her tone sorrowful in remembrance of her late mother. Buffy lay on her bed, her room dimly lit by the moonlight. Concealed in the shadows, though his presence comfortingly felt by Buffy, was Angel. He sat on the bed beside her, his hand rubbing her back soothingly.
"I still can't believe you're here..."
"Where else am I going to go?"
"That's not what I meant. I mean, you. Here. Human. I don't know how to take this."
"You think I do? You think I know how to react to a youth-inducing spell taking advantage of my mortal soul and melting away my vampirism? It's not everyday this happens, you know."
Buffy whimpered a bit, then began to sob quietly. Angel laid beside her, his arms drifting around her waist tenderly. "I'm sorry. I don't expect you to just sweep me back into your arms, or for us to just pick up where we left off. I just...Buffy?"
He peered over her shoulder, only to find that she was slowly nodding off. He bent over her body and gently touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "Buffy," he murmured.
Immediately she opened her eyes as if she'd been expecting him. "Angel." She smiled sleepily. "You're here." Hovering over her, handsome as ever even in his reacquired youth, watching over her with that slight smile that just begged to be kissed, he seemed a perfect product of her dreams, more real than ever before. Exhaustion washed over her, ebbing and flowing like a gentle wave on a beach.
"I'm going downstairs...to sleep on the couch..." His voice seemed to come from far away. With an effort, she whispered, "No, sleep here. Don't leave me." Utterly exhausted, Angel looked at her sleeping form and sighed. The snowy linens on the bed looked infinitely inviting.
~I'll just sleep for a few hours~, he promised himself, ~then leave before she wakes up.~
Easing down on the bed, he tried to pretend Buffy wasn't there, attempting not to attach himself and take advantage of their situation. The sensation of the cool pillow against his cheek was welcomed bliss, and sleep came instantly.
From the sweet, dream-tingled depths of sleep, Angel became aware that he was hot and uncomfortable in his clothes, unused to having a body temperature. Removing them was a simple reflex; he didn't even have to wake up to pull them off, drop them on the floor, and lie back again. Then, savoring the breeze that caressed his bare skin, he let the current of sleep pull him under again.
Later, the air grew cooler, and Angel and Buffy both sought warmth instinctively, gravitating towards each other as they lay on their sides. At first Angel was only dimly aware when a warm back touched his chest. But then, as Buffy snuggled closer, her derriere molded itself against his hips. Dreaming, he felt his manhood growing warm, aided by newly resurrected hormones. It brushed against his upper thigh as it hardened, twitching slightly with each beat of his heart. A hot, pulsing need began to build within him. Through the gossamer confection of her nightgown, Angel could feel the warmth of her flesh, and involuntarily he tensed the muscles in his loins. A jolting surge of lust left him fully erect. He was burning.
The veils of sleep were lifting one by one, but this had to be a dream. When she snuggled closer, Angel pressed himself against the delicate niche that bisected her fanned bottom and clenched his teeth as a chill rushed from the base of his neck down his spine to fan the fires of his arousal. His eyes flew open as reality intruded, but he was powerless now to quell the feelings that held him in their grip.
Buffy was dreaming that she and Angel were lying beneath the tree near her mother's grave. It was growing cold, and she liked being held and protected by his hard male body. The contrast between them felt good. The place between her legs was tingling pleasantly, like her breasts. This time she didn't want to wake up...didn't want the feelings to go away.
Angel ached with hunger. He touched his mouth to the baby curls at the back of her neck, nuzzling, breathing in the scent of her soft skin and fresh-washed hair. Driven by instinct, Buffy pressed her hips against him and moaned softly. She moved again and again, sighing as she instinctively sought the hard male member that fit so perfectly against her.
At last, Angel lifted his right hand and placed it ever so gently at her hip. He swallowed a moan when he discovered that Buffy's gown had slipped up nearly to her waist on that side, so he was caressing bare, satiny skin. Tentatively he rested his palm on her hip and let his fingers curve into the hollow of her belly. On fire, he held his breath, afraid that she would both awaken and stop him, awaken and let him continue, or that she would sleep on and condemn him to the madness of his desire. At that moment, Buffy's thighs parted slightly, her right leg slipped backward between his, and Angel was utterly lost.
He heard her breathing quicken and recklessly slid his hand beneath her nightgown. Buffy continued to press rhythmically against him as his agile fingers played upward until they grazed the ripe curve of one breast. She was so warm, so eager, but he held himself back, lightly tracing circles around her breast with his fingertips. Finally, he took the soft nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently as it puckered, his inhibitions restrained by his now-phantom curse.
Buffy was swimming in a sea of sensitized pleasure, half-awake but unwilling to release the dream. Tingling darts of arousal were shooting from her nipples to her loins, and she could feel her breasts swelling, becoming fuller and warmer, in Angel's deft hands. In the mists between sleep and consciousness, her carefully tended reserves were stripped away, for the second time allowing her body to revel in the passions of womanhood with her darling Angel. Somewhere in her sleep-hazed state of mind, she realized that she was untouched territory again, and was giving herself to him for the first time all over again...and could think of no one she'd rather experience this union with. When Angel's fingers slid downward, then pressed with consummate skill against the hidden source of her arousal, Buffy moaned and turned in his arms.
Her hunger, suppressed for so long, would be denied no longer. This time she wouldn't flee from her desires, nor would they be refused by some ancient hex. In the darkness, her mouth sought Angel's, opening to receive his tongue, while her arms wound round his neck. After an eternity of ravenous kissing, nibbling, tasting, he reached down to slip the nightgown over her head. Then, drawing back, he studied her in the moonlight. Her face, tanned against the golden spill of her hair, was turned to one side. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open, and he recognized the telltale cadence of her breathing.
"Beautiful," he murmured, and bent to trail his fingertips over her throat, shoulders, the lush curves of her breasts, the hollow of her tummy, her hips, her lithe legs...carefully, he avoided the place he knew ached to be touched. Buffy stretched and writhed beneath his hands, then moaned as Angel began to retrace her body with his lips. He found the rejuvenated pleasure points that had only been discovered once upon a time, and a few that had been neglected of his intimate contact until tonight: the back of her neck, her spine, the small of her back, the tender insides of her elbows, her wrists, her palms. With lips like butterfly wings, he kissed along her sides, then gently sought the delicate rosebud nipples of her breasts. She sank her fingers into his hair as he sucked slowly on the first one and then the other, excited beyond belief by her gasps of pleasure. At last he moved lower, kissing the arches of her feet, then taking her toes into his mouth one at a time. Buffy undulated helplessly above him. His lips trailed fire up her calves, lingering on the backs of her knees, then nipping sensuously on her inner thighs. When he reached the soft dark tangle of curls between her legs, he paused, then blew softly. Buffy arched her hips in response, allowing him to see how moist and swollen she was and he could smell the faint, musky scent of her desire. Bending, he pressed his lips to the core of her femininity, and almost instantly she strained upward and began to shudder, panting. Angel positioned himself above her, eyes glittering in the pale light of the waning moon. He could wait no longer.
Buffy cried aloud as the exquisitely pleasurable contractions swept out from between her legs, sending shimmering waves of delight through her entire body. A warm glow settled over her, overcoming the certain awareness that what had just happened was no dream. Angel's face was now above her own, and their eyes met. He braced himself, one hand on either side of her and Buffy reached out to touch his shoulders and the soft, cozy warmth that now made it's home in the marble of his chest. The feeling of his lean-muscled body, so different from hers, and the heartbeat that pounded through his torso to her fingertips, excited her. She drew herself up to nuzzle his neck. He smelled of leather and rain and a trace of hair gel, but most intoxicatingly, he smelled of Angel. When she whispered his name aloud, he smiled down at her.
They kissed then, commingling wonder and passion between their lips, and Angel lowered himself between her legs. His state of arousal was beyond any he could remember, and Buffy was warm and moist against him. Cautiously, he entered her. Encountering a thin barrier, he withdrew a little and began again. He pushed forward gently, paused, then pushed again, savoring the pulsing rush that came with each movement. As hot as he was, Buffy was even hotter inside. Angel took her virginity as tenderly as he could, feeling her constrict even more tightly around him at the first shock of penetration. After this initial reaction, however, she relaxed and arched her hips to meet his. He was wary at first, but gradually Buffy's own rhythm increased, and together they began to soar.
Buffy was astonished by her own passion. The sensation of Angel's thrusts deep within her, the sight of his taut silhouette above her in the moonlight, masculine at even this age, sent fire coursing through her blood. Instincts she hadn't known she possessed were freed by the merging of their bodies. Angel cupped her buttocks in his hands, and Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to his wide back as they rode higher and higher together, their bodies gleaming with perspiration.
~This is wonderful~, she thought, tears stinging her eyes.
At last Angel arched his back, froze for an instant, then let out a long, low groan. They lay together, panting, their faces side by side. Buffy felt him pulse slightly inside her and tightened her own muscles in response, embracing him. Warm currents of absolute contentment washed over her. Softly she ran her fingers down the tapered sides of Angel's back. She smiled against the side of his face. Slowly he withdrew and laid at her side, satisfied to have her nestle her head onto his chest. He lifted her hand and gently kissed each delicate finger.
Giddy with pleasure and a sudden wave of fatigue, Buffy beamed, tenderly placing a few kisses on his chest. "I love you, Angel," she whispered, smiling radiantly before closing her eyes.
Angel smoothed the damp yet silky blonde strands from her brow and drank in the sight of her face, more peaceful than he had ever known it to be. Her long flaxen tresses brushed her cheeks, and her lips were so full and tender looking. He felt his heart clench, knowing that this youthful reverie would have to end one day. He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead, lulled to sleep by her heartbeat against his own.
-----
"Tara didn't come home last night," Willow said, tears beginning to cloud her eyes. She had called everyone to the Magic Shop in hopes of finding her lost significant other. "I didn't get any sleep. I just sat there, waiting for her to come home." She lowered her head to hide her sorrow, whimpering softly. "We have to do something."
"Okay," Angel said, "Everyone split up, check any of Tara's friends, acquaintances, anyone who might have seen her last, maybe try and confirm something with the local hospitals...she might turn up somewhere. Check with the police, fire department, the whole nine yards. It's not that big of a town, someone has to have seen her. Maybe you can go research any demons that might be at their most active at such a young age. They might be taking advantage of the mass hysteria that's going around-..." He caught everyone's blank stares at him. "...what?"
"Anything else, Captain?" Xander retorted, blinking.
"Sorry. Force of habit." Angel crossed his arms, listening attentively as he attempted to shake off the awkward effect of his commands. "What do you suggest?"
"Actually, those weren't bad ideas," Buffy said.
"Said the boinkee," Xander replied, lifting his eyebrow. "Or were you the boinker?"
"There was equal boinkage." Buffy said, turning towards the door. "Now let's go."
"They boinked?" Anya asked.
"You guys go and call me here if you find anything." Angel said, walking behind the counter to the telephone. "I have to call L.A., check up on things."
"When did they boink?" Anya inquired, nudging Xander, who didn't seem interested in answering the question.
"Okay," Buffy said as everyone walked out, leaving her to bring up the rear. Just as she was leaving, she heard Angel call her name.
"Buffy..."
Buffy turned to face him in the doorway. "Yeah?"
"Be careful." Angel smiled slightly.
Buffy returned the smile, striding over to him and placing a kiss on his lips before backpedaling toward the door, reluctant to take her eyes from her sweetheart. "You too."
As they left, Angel dialed the number to Angel Investigations. Back at the Hyperion Hotel in Los Angeles, a cheerful yet meek tone with a distinctive Southern drawl greeted him.
"Angel Investigations, we...we...we help people!"
Angel smiled. "Hey, Fred."
"Angel!" Fred answered excitedly, "Is...is that you?"
"Sure is."
"You sound..."
"Younger?"
"I was going to say cuter, but younger is okay too. Less embarrassing for me. Oh my, I'm embarrassed anyway! Maybe I should turn the air conditioner on. It's really warm in here. Do you feel it? Oh, of course you don't, you're two hundred miles away! Silly me...is it warm there too? I bet it is, being California and all. I'm rambling on and on...when are you coming home?"
Angel couldn't help but grin at the childlike dialogue on the other end of the line. He chuckled a bit. "Soon, Fred. Soon."
"Since you're all...you know, human...does she....does she like it?"
Angel's smile faded a bit, unwilling to damage her innocence in the least. "I tell you what. I have a few things to sort out up here. As soon as I right the wrongs and save the world, I'll come back and I'll take you out for ice cream. Sound good to you?"
"Oh yeah! I can't wait!" Fred said eagerly.
"Okay, then it's a date."
Had Angel been in L.A., he'd have seen Fred's cheeks blush cherry red and a bashful smile on her face as wide as can be. "Okay then."
"Is Wesley there?"
"Mhmm. Want to talk to him?"
"Yes, please."
Angel waited for a moment as she left the line, hearing a thump as if she'd tripped and fell after leaving the phone. After a few minutes of worrying, a more masculine voice responded, a distinguished English enunciation in his tone, even in his current age.
"Angel, how are things going?"
"...well...they're fine. Any news on your end?"
"You had sex, didn't you?"
"What?" Angel's mouth was agape. He was dumbfounded at Wesley's deduction. How could he possibly have known? It wasn't as if making love was the only thing on Buffy's mind or his own at the moment...though it was one of the top five.
"Don't try to deny it," Wesley taunted, "I can hear it in your voice. It's less broody."
"Wesley, I had about a decade shaved off my vocal cords."
"True, but there's a certain bounce in it."
"That'd be the hint of Irish descent."
"You have an excuse for everything, don't you? Just admit it."
"Buffy and I...may have gotten...a little intimate."
"Oh really? How intimate?"
"I think I'm wearing her underwear."
Wesley paused. "Okay, I deserved that horrifying mental image. No more prying into your coital exploits. You've cured me of all meddling inclinations."
"One can only hope. Any progress?"
"Well, there is tell of an ancient serum that grants youth. But it is merely a restoration. As soon as the body goes, so does the mind, then the body begins aging normally again. I did find that you have the best chance of all of them of staying in your right mind, considering that your mind literally has centuries to go."
"Okay, any cure for this serum?"
"One. But it must be done within a week of the initial procedure, or all is permanent."
"What is it?"
"I...don't really know. All I have is history here. The reversal would be in the same volume as the incantation itself. However, I can track down the user, pinpoint his exact location at the time of the ritual."
"How?"
"By using the ages of people on the planet. The farther their minds are gone, the closer we are. There is one problem, though."
"Didn't see that coming. What is it?"
"The earth itself is becoming younger. And if it gets as young as it's inhabitants have become, it'll basically be a big floating ball of lava and violent volcanic eruptions, so barren a wasteland that it would be beyond supporting any kind of life."
"An Apocalypse. Wow. Another shocker."
"Angel...we have to find that book."
"We will. I'm tying up a few loose ends here, trying to see if there's any manuscripts or something that contains a hint as to how to get rid of this thing. Even the Watcher's Council is researching it."
"Hopefully, something can be done. And fast."
"I agree. I'll call if I get anything."
"As will I. Good luck."
"You too. And Wesley?"
"Yes?"
"I think I really am wearing her underwear."
Wesley hung up the phone, giving a woeful look to Fred and their other two companions, Cordelia and Gunn.
"We're doomed."
-----
"Tara? Tara...wake up..."
The blonde witch slowly opened her eyes, finding it hard to focus them. She also found that a harsh soreness seemed to be embedding itself in her brain. As her eyes opened completely, she fluttered them, trying to become accustomed to the light as she looked around at all of her friends gathered around her hospital bed. "Hmm...Willow?"
"Hey," Willow responded, smiling down at her love. "How are you doing?"
"We heard you used the dashboard as a hat." Xander added, smiling softly at his friend.
"I...I was driving back to the magic shop when this cat scurried across the road," Tara said, wincing as she sat up. "I...couldn't reach the brakes."
"Told you," Willow said, giving a knowing look towards Xander.
"The next thing I remember is waking up here, with you guys." Tara finished.
"The nurse said the car hit a tree, and some bystanders brought you in," Buffy said, "Good thing for you the doctor remembered his sense of duty."
"He had a major case of the wiggins." Anya added.
"I'll say," Xander said, "He had to use both hands so the scalpel wouldn't shake as much."
"But," Tara said, looking up worriedly at Willow, "I'm going to be okay, right?"
"Yep, you just caught a piece of metal in your forehead," Buffy said, "A few stitches and a couple of pints of blood, and you were all patched up."
"Did you find out anything about, you know, our dilemma?" Dawn asked.
"A little. The book that contains such rejuvenation spells was actually stolen from a museum in San Francisco last week. A friend of mine gave me a spell that should highlight any temporal displacement." Tara said.
"I think I speak for all of us when I say, huh?" Xander said, "Maybe a little less vagueness for us non-pagans."
"It means," Tara continued, "that those in the circle would catch the brunt of the magic. And basically, they'd send out a beam of blue light into the heavens, a beacon for us all." Tara reached an IV-ed hand into her pocket, weakly pulling out a slip of paper and handing it to Willow. "Think you can handle the enchantment?"
"Of course." Willow said, smiling warmly down at Tara.
"Did your friend have a name on this book thief?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah," Tara said, looking over at her. "But the police never apprehended her. She's been around for a few hundred years. Her name's Tabitha...something. Starts with an 'R'. She uses an alias. Kathleen, then something with an 'R'. Can you work with that?"
"Can't be too many youth-seeking witches named Tabitha out in the world." Buffy replied.
"You'd be surprised," Xander said, "That name's probably like Smith in the netherworld."
"You can come home with us," Willow said, "but only to rest. You need your strength if we're to battle any baddies."
Tara smiled. "I'd like that."
"Okay, let's get the Munchkin back home." Xander said. "By home, I mean Buffy's place."
"Mhmm," Tara retorted, "And maybe on the way we can ask the great and powerful Oz to grant you a brain."
"Don't make me drop a house on you." Xander said, feigning anger by lifting a finger towards her.
"Bring it on, Tin Man."
"Okay," Buffy said, "taking this metaphor way too far now. Let's go home."
"Metaphor? You mean they weren't serious?" Anya asked.
----------
Willow set a cup of tea down in front of Buffy, who gladly accepted it and drank deeply from it, embracing it's warmth as a false comfort for the time being. They had returned to the Magic Box after their transformation, researching the various causes - and cures - of their situation, but only found dead ends. After returning to Buffy's home, they had even gone as far to call Giles, only to find that he too had been changed, and that the altered Watcher's Council had contacted him in almost a hysterical manner, needing his expertise in finding a solution.
Buffy sighed, wondering what else could go wrong with her life. Dawn hadn't been changed, which was the most puzzling thing of all. But everyone else in the world had...or at least, every adult. The news hadn't been on at first due to the initial shock, but it aired featuring a prepubescent anchorwoman. Buffy wasn't interested in hearing what she already knew. She wanted answers.
"I'm sure we can fix this, Buffy. We have lots of other times."
Buffy regarded Willow's assuring resolve, smiling a bit. "I know. I just can't figure out who could have done this. I mean, what's the point? We overdose on developmental hormones?" She looked over at Willow, who sat beside her with her own cup of tea. "We're in trouble, Will. I've lost my abilities. I wasn't called to be a Slayer at this age. I couldn't fight if I wanted to."
"We can still hack and slash, right?" Anya chimed in.
"Slice and dice, julienne style, or just basically cut. We've got plenty of sharp objects." Xander said.
"Well, Giles said that there's an unnatural shortage of vampires at the moment." Willow said.
"A shortage?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah. The spell or whatever seemed to affect them too. If they weren't turned at a young age, then they just ceased to exist."
"Talk about the drawbacks of old age." Buffy's eyes widened in realization. "Spike...Angel...oh my God..."
"Hey," Willow rested a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "Everything will be all right. All we have to do is reverse whatever supernatural enchantment there is, and everything will be back to normal. We just have to do it before-..."
"Before what?"
"...before our minds catch up, or rather go back, with our bodies. And the current hormones in our body really don't help."
"I've had enough teenage angst for one lifetime, thank you." Anya stated.
"As have I," said Xander, " Will, anything in the Wiccan's handbook that might be helpful?"
"Tara's looking into it now. I hope she's okay. She drove over there and sorta had a problem touching the pedals."
"Let's hope the Munchkin doesn't crash on the Yellow Brick Road."
Willow looked down, and Buffy sent a glare Xander's way. Xander knelt by his friend, holding her hand. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid joke. I'm sure she'll be fine. I was just kidding around. I'm a kidder. It's what I do. I kid. Much with the kiddage."
"Okay, kidder, get up. Giles and the Council can do more than we can, especially since Giles has most of the books. We just have to sit back and see what happens."
Just then, a knock came upon the Summers' door. Buffy looked over at Dawn, who was still talking to Giles, taking notes all the while. She looked at the door, hobbling over to it tiredly. As she opened it, she saw a strange boy she'd never seen before.
He was tall, at least sixteen years of age, his long black duster swaying slightly in the breeze created by the colossal downpour of rain that battered him, his clothes clinging tightly to his broad form. His ensemble was as black as the twilight, form-fitting jeans and a silk shirt accenting the steep curvature of his well-developed muscles, a hint of his chiseled, stone-defined chest revealed teasingly through the top two unfastened buttons of his silken garment.
His illuminant yet dark eyes, flecked with silver as if to signify all the tears the sadness of his tortured soul had caused, shone with unadulterated joy as they fell upon Buffy. His angelic features seemed so youthful now...far from his usual granite composure. He was indeed different from his normally intense and brooding manner. He lifted a steady alabaster hand, running it through his slightly unkempt yet drenched coal-black locks, standing perfectly still as he surveyed her.
"I need to talk to you."
"Who are you?"
"Buffy...it's me. Angel."
-----
At the hospital, a young nurse was trying to persuade her converted associate to operate among the panic of both the patients and staff alike. She strained to talk to the doctor over the loud sobs of the hundreds of teenagers filling the hospital.
"Doctor Gonzales, you have to! If you don't, she'll die!"
"Look at me, woman! I'm a damn child! How can I function enough to save that girl's life when my hands are too small to precisely operate on a automobile accident victim? It's a delicate procedure and it needs someone who can assuredly do the job. There must be someone else!"
"They're all breaking down, just like you. Doctor, please!"
The boy held his head in his hands, weeping. Meanwhile, an adolescent Tara laid lifeless on a gurney as blood trickled from a piece of gauze on her forehead, the heartbeat recorded by the monitor above her slowly ceasing.
-----
Buffy slipped on a light blue nightgown over her head, not in the least bit bashful about her naked body being seen by Angel. She smoothed the fabric out over her curves, walking to the bed from her closet and sitting, rubbing her neck a bit.
"It's a good thing Mom kept some of my old clothes handy." she said, her tone sorrowful in remembrance of her late mother. Buffy lay on her bed, her room dimly lit by the moonlight. Concealed in the shadows, though his presence comfortingly felt by Buffy, was Angel. He sat on the bed beside her, his hand rubbing her back soothingly.
"I still can't believe you're here..."
"Where else am I going to go?"
"That's not what I meant. I mean, you. Here. Human. I don't know how to take this."
"You think I do? You think I know how to react to a youth-inducing spell taking advantage of my mortal soul and melting away my vampirism? It's not everyday this happens, you know."
Buffy whimpered a bit, then began to sob quietly. Angel laid beside her, his arms drifting around her waist tenderly. "I'm sorry. I don't expect you to just sweep me back into your arms, or for us to just pick up where we left off. I just...Buffy?"
He peered over her shoulder, only to find that she was slowly nodding off. He bent over her body and gently touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "Buffy," he murmured.
Immediately she opened her eyes as if she'd been expecting him. "Angel." She smiled sleepily. "You're here." Hovering over her, handsome as ever even in his reacquired youth, watching over her with that slight smile that just begged to be kissed, he seemed a perfect product of her dreams, more real than ever before. Exhaustion washed over her, ebbing and flowing like a gentle wave on a beach.
"I'm going downstairs...to sleep on the couch..." His voice seemed to come from far away. With an effort, she whispered, "No, sleep here. Don't leave me." Utterly exhausted, Angel looked at her sleeping form and sighed. The snowy linens on the bed looked infinitely inviting.
~I'll just sleep for a few hours~, he promised himself, ~then leave before she wakes up.~
Easing down on the bed, he tried to pretend Buffy wasn't there, attempting not to attach himself and take advantage of their situation. The sensation of the cool pillow against his cheek was welcomed bliss, and sleep came instantly.
From the sweet, dream-tingled depths of sleep, Angel became aware that he was hot and uncomfortable in his clothes, unused to having a body temperature. Removing them was a simple reflex; he didn't even have to wake up to pull them off, drop them on the floor, and lie back again. Then, savoring the breeze that caressed his bare skin, he let the current of sleep pull him under again.
Later, the air grew cooler, and Angel and Buffy both sought warmth instinctively, gravitating towards each other as they lay on their sides. At first Angel was only dimly aware when a warm back touched his chest. But then, as Buffy snuggled closer, her derriere molded itself against his hips. Dreaming, he felt his manhood growing warm, aided by newly resurrected hormones. It brushed against his upper thigh as it hardened, twitching slightly with each beat of his heart. A hot, pulsing need began to build within him. Through the gossamer confection of her nightgown, Angel could feel the warmth of her flesh, and involuntarily he tensed the muscles in his loins. A jolting surge of lust left him fully erect. He was burning.
The veils of sleep were lifting one by one, but this had to be a dream. When she snuggled closer, Angel pressed himself against the delicate niche that bisected her fanned bottom and clenched his teeth as a chill rushed from the base of his neck down his spine to fan the fires of his arousal. His eyes flew open as reality intruded, but he was powerless now to quell the feelings that held him in their grip.
Buffy was dreaming that she and Angel were lying beneath the tree near her mother's grave. It was growing cold, and she liked being held and protected by his hard male body. The contrast between them felt good. The place between her legs was tingling pleasantly, like her breasts. This time she didn't want to wake up...didn't want the feelings to go away.
Angel ached with hunger. He touched his mouth to the baby curls at the back of her neck, nuzzling, breathing in the scent of her soft skin and fresh-washed hair. Driven by instinct, Buffy pressed her hips against him and moaned softly. She moved again and again, sighing as she instinctively sought the hard male member that fit so perfectly against her.
At last, Angel lifted his right hand and placed it ever so gently at her hip. He swallowed a moan when he discovered that Buffy's gown had slipped up nearly to her waist on that side, so he was caressing bare, satiny skin. Tentatively he rested his palm on her hip and let his fingers curve into the hollow of her belly. On fire, he held his breath, afraid that she would both awaken and stop him, awaken and let him continue, or that she would sleep on and condemn him to the madness of his desire. At that moment, Buffy's thighs parted slightly, her right leg slipped backward between his, and Angel was utterly lost.
He heard her breathing quicken and recklessly slid his hand beneath her nightgown. Buffy continued to press rhythmically against him as his agile fingers played upward until they grazed the ripe curve of one breast. She was so warm, so eager, but he held himself back, lightly tracing circles around her breast with his fingertips. Finally, he took the soft nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently as it puckered, his inhibitions restrained by his now-phantom curse.
Buffy was swimming in a sea of sensitized pleasure, half-awake but unwilling to release the dream. Tingling darts of arousal were shooting from her nipples to her loins, and she could feel her breasts swelling, becoming fuller and warmer, in Angel's deft hands. In the mists between sleep and consciousness, her carefully tended reserves were stripped away, for the second time allowing her body to revel in the passions of womanhood with her darling Angel. Somewhere in her sleep-hazed state of mind, she realized that she was untouched territory again, and was giving herself to him for the first time all over again...and could think of no one she'd rather experience this union with. When Angel's fingers slid downward, then pressed with consummate skill against the hidden source of her arousal, Buffy moaned and turned in his arms.
Her hunger, suppressed for so long, would be denied no longer. This time she wouldn't flee from her desires, nor would they be refused by some ancient hex. In the darkness, her mouth sought Angel's, opening to receive his tongue, while her arms wound round his neck. After an eternity of ravenous kissing, nibbling, tasting, he reached down to slip the nightgown over her head. Then, drawing back, he studied her in the moonlight. Her face, tanned against the golden spill of her hair, was turned to one side. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open, and he recognized the telltale cadence of her breathing.
"Beautiful," he murmured, and bent to trail his fingertips over her throat, shoulders, the lush curves of her breasts, the hollow of her tummy, her hips, her lithe legs...carefully, he avoided the place he knew ached to be touched. Buffy stretched and writhed beneath his hands, then moaned as Angel began to retrace her body with his lips. He found the rejuvenated pleasure points that had only been discovered once upon a time, and a few that had been neglected of his intimate contact until tonight: the back of her neck, her spine, the small of her back, the tender insides of her elbows, her wrists, her palms. With lips like butterfly wings, he kissed along her sides, then gently sought the delicate rosebud nipples of her breasts. She sank her fingers into his hair as he sucked slowly on the first one and then the other, excited beyond belief by her gasps of pleasure. At last he moved lower, kissing the arches of her feet, then taking her toes into his mouth one at a time. Buffy undulated helplessly above him. His lips trailed fire up her calves, lingering on the backs of her knees, then nipping sensuously on her inner thighs. When he reached the soft dark tangle of curls between her legs, he paused, then blew softly. Buffy arched her hips in response, allowing him to see how moist and swollen she was and he could smell the faint, musky scent of her desire. Bending, he pressed his lips to the core of her femininity, and almost instantly she strained upward and began to shudder, panting. Angel positioned himself above her, eyes glittering in the pale light of the waning moon. He could wait no longer.
Buffy cried aloud as the exquisitely pleasurable contractions swept out from between her legs, sending shimmering waves of delight through her entire body. A warm glow settled over her, overcoming the certain awareness that what had just happened was no dream. Angel's face was now above her own, and their eyes met. He braced himself, one hand on either side of her and Buffy reached out to touch his shoulders and the soft, cozy warmth that now made it's home in the marble of his chest. The feeling of his lean-muscled body, so different from hers, and the heartbeat that pounded through his torso to her fingertips, excited her. She drew herself up to nuzzle his neck. He smelled of leather and rain and a trace of hair gel, but most intoxicatingly, he smelled of Angel. When she whispered his name aloud, he smiled down at her.
They kissed then, commingling wonder and passion between their lips, and Angel lowered himself between her legs. His state of arousal was beyond any he could remember, and Buffy was warm and moist against him. Cautiously, he entered her. Encountering a thin barrier, he withdrew a little and began again. He pushed forward gently, paused, then pushed again, savoring the pulsing rush that came with each movement. As hot as he was, Buffy was even hotter inside. Angel took her virginity as tenderly as he could, feeling her constrict even more tightly around him at the first shock of penetration. After this initial reaction, however, she relaxed and arched her hips to meet his. He was wary at first, but gradually Buffy's own rhythm increased, and together they began to soar.
Buffy was astonished by her own passion. The sensation of Angel's thrusts deep within her, the sight of his taut silhouette above her in the moonlight, masculine at even this age, sent fire coursing through her blood. Instincts she hadn't known she possessed were freed by the merging of their bodies. Angel cupped her buttocks in his hands, and Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to his wide back as they rode higher and higher together, their bodies gleaming with perspiration.
~This is wonderful~, she thought, tears stinging her eyes.
At last Angel arched his back, froze for an instant, then let out a long, low groan. They lay together, panting, their faces side by side. Buffy felt him pulse slightly inside her and tightened her own muscles in response, embracing him. Warm currents of absolute contentment washed over her. Softly she ran her fingers down the tapered sides of Angel's back. She smiled against the side of his face. Slowly he withdrew and laid at her side, satisfied to have her nestle her head onto his chest. He lifted her hand and gently kissed each delicate finger.
Giddy with pleasure and a sudden wave of fatigue, Buffy beamed, tenderly placing a few kisses on his chest. "I love you, Angel," she whispered, smiling radiantly before closing her eyes.
Angel smoothed the damp yet silky blonde strands from her brow and drank in the sight of her face, more peaceful than he had ever known it to be. Her long flaxen tresses brushed her cheeks, and her lips were so full and tender looking. He felt his heart clench, knowing that this youthful reverie would have to end one day. He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead, lulled to sleep by her heartbeat against his own.
-----
"Tara didn't come home last night," Willow said, tears beginning to cloud her eyes. She had called everyone to the Magic Shop in hopes of finding her lost significant other. "I didn't get any sleep. I just sat there, waiting for her to come home." She lowered her head to hide her sorrow, whimpering softly. "We have to do something."
"Okay," Angel said, "Everyone split up, check any of Tara's friends, acquaintances, anyone who might have seen her last, maybe try and confirm something with the local hospitals...she might turn up somewhere. Check with the police, fire department, the whole nine yards. It's not that big of a town, someone has to have seen her. Maybe you can go research any demons that might be at their most active at such a young age. They might be taking advantage of the mass hysteria that's going around-..." He caught everyone's blank stares at him. "...what?"
"Anything else, Captain?" Xander retorted, blinking.
"Sorry. Force of habit." Angel crossed his arms, listening attentively as he attempted to shake off the awkward effect of his commands. "What do you suggest?"
"Actually, those weren't bad ideas," Buffy said.
"Said the boinkee," Xander replied, lifting his eyebrow. "Or were you the boinker?"
"There was equal boinkage." Buffy said, turning towards the door. "Now let's go."
"They boinked?" Anya asked.
"You guys go and call me here if you find anything." Angel said, walking behind the counter to the telephone. "I have to call L.A., check up on things."
"When did they boink?" Anya inquired, nudging Xander, who didn't seem interested in answering the question.
"Okay," Buffy said as everyone walked out, leaving her to bring up the rear. Just as she was leaving, she heard Angel call her name.
"Buffy..."
Buffy turned to face him in the doorway. "Yeah?"
"Be careful." Angel smiled slightly.
Buffy returned the smile, striding over to him and placing a kiss on his lips before backpedaling toward the door, reluctant to take her eyes from her sweetheart. "You too."
As they left, Angel dialed the number to Angel Investigations. Back at the Hyperion Hotel in Los Angeles, a cheerful yet meek tone with a distinctive Southern drawl greeted him.
"Angel Investigations, we...we...we help people!"
Angel smiled. "Hey, Fred."
"Angel!" Fred answered excitedly, "Is...is that you?"
"Sure is."
"You sound..."
"Younger?"
"I was going to say cuter, but younger is okay too. Less embarrassing for me. Oh my, I'm embarrassed anyway! Maybe I should turn the air conditioner on. It's really warm in here. Do you feel it? Oh, of course you don't, you're two hundred miles away! Silly me...is it warm there too? I bet it is, being California and all. I'm rambling on and on...when are you coming home?"
Angel couldn't help but grin at the childlike dialogue on the other end of the line. He chuckled a bit. "Soon, Fred. Soon."
"Since you're all...you know, human...does she....does she like it?"
Angel's smile faded a bit, unwilling to damage her innocence in the least. "I tell you what. I have a few things to sort out up here. As soon as I right the wrongs and save the world, I'll come back and I'll take you out for ice cream. Sound good to you?"
"Oh yeah! I can't wait!" Fred said eagerly.
"Okay, then it's a date."
Had Angel been in L.A., he'd have seen Fred's cheeks blush cherry red and a bashful smile on her face as wide as can be. "Okay then."
"Is Wesley there?"
"Mhmm. Want to talk to him?"
"Yes, please."
Angel waited for a moment as she left the line, hearing a thump as if she'd tripped and fell after leaving the phone. After a few minutes of worrying, a more masculine voice responded, a distinguished English enunciation in his tone, even in his current age.
"Angel, how are things going?"
"...well...they're fine. Any news on your end?"
"You had sex, didn't you?"
"What?" Angel's mouth was agape. He was dumbfounded at Wesley's deduction. How could he possibly have known? It wasn't as if making love was the only thing on Buffy's mind or his own at the moment...though it was one of the top five.
"Don't try to deny it," Wesley taunted, "I can hear it in your voice. It's less broody."
"Wesley, I had about a decade shaved off my vocal cords."
"True, but there's a certain bounce in it."
"That'd be the hint of Irish descent."
"You have an excuse for everything, don't you? Just admit it."
"Buffy and I...may have gotten...a little intimate."
"Oh really? How intimate?"
"I think I'm wearing her underwear."
Wesley paused. "Okay, I deserved that horrifying mental image. No more prying into your coital exploits. You've cured me of all meddling inclinations."
"One can only hope. Any progress?"
"Well, there is tell of an ancient serum that grants youth. But it is merely a restoration. As soon as the body goes, so does the mind, then the body begins aging normally again. I did find that you have the best chance of all of them of staying in your right mind, considering that your mind literally has centuries to go."
"Okay, any cure for this serum?"
"One. But it must be done within a week of the initial procedure, or all is permanent."
"What is it?"
"I...don't really know. All I have is history here. The reversal would be in the same volume as the incantation itself. However, I can track down the user, pinpoint his exact location at the time of the ritual."
"How?"
"By using the ages of people on the planet. The farther their minds are gone, the closer we are. There is one problem, though."
"Didn't see that coming. What is it?"
"The earth itself is becoming younger. And if it gets as young as it's inhabitants have become, it'll basically be a big floating ball of lava and violent volcanic eruptions, so barren a wasteland that it would be beyond supporting any kind of life."
"An Apocalypse. Wow. Another shocker."
"Angel...we have to find that book."
"We will. I'm tying up a few loose ends here, trying to see if there's any manuscripts or something that contains a hint as to how to get rid of this thing. Even the Watcher's Council is researching it."
"Hopefully, something can be done. And fast."
"I agree. I'll call if I get anything."
"As will I. Good luck."
"You too. And Wesley?"
"Yes?"
"I think I really am wearing her underwear."
Wesley hung up the phone, giving a woeful look to Fred and their other two companions, Cordelia and Gunn.
"We're doomed."
-----
"Tara? Tara...wake up..."
The blonde witch slowly opened her eyes, finding it hard to focus them. She also found that a harsh soreness seemed to be embedding itself in her brain. As her eyes opened completely, she fluttered them, trying to become accustomed to the light as she looked around at all of her friends gathered around her hospital bed. "Hmm...Willow?"
"Hey," Willow responded, smiling down at her love. "How are you doing?"
"We heard you used the dashboard as a hat." Xander added, smiling softly at his friend.
"I...I was driving back to the magic shop when this cat scurried across the road," Tara said, wincing as she sat up. "I...couldn't reach the brakes."
"Told you," Willow said, giving a knowing look towards Xander.
"The next thing I remember is waking up here, with you guys." Tara finished.
"The nurse said the car hit a tree, and some bystanders brought you in," Buffy said, "Good thing for you the doctor remembered his sense of duty."
"He had a major case of the wiggins." Anya added.
"I'll say," Xander said, "He had to use both hands so the scalpel wouldn't shake as much."
"But," Tara said, looking up worriedly at Willow, "I'm going to be okay, right?"
"Yep, you just caught a piece of metal in your forehead," Buffy said, "A few stitches and a couple of pints of blood, and you were all patched up."
"Did you find out anything about, you know, our dilemma?" Dawn asked.
"A little. The book that contains such rejuvenation spells was actually stolen from a museum in San Francisco last week. A friend of mine gave me a spell that should highlight any temporal displacement." Tara said.
"I think I speak for all of us when I say, huh?" Xander said, "Maybe a little less vagueness for us non-pagans."
"It means," Tara continued, "that those in the circle would catch the brunt of the magic. And basically, they'd send out a beam of blue light into the heavens, a beacon for us all." Tara reached an IV-ed hand into her pocket, weakly pulling out a slip of paper and handing it to Willow. "Think you can handle the enchantment?"
"Of course." Willow said, smiling warmly down at Tara.
"Did your friend have a name on this book thief?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah," Tara said, looking over at her. "But the police never apprehended her. She's been around for a few hundred years. Her name's Tabitha...something. Starts with an 'R'. She uses an alias. Kathleen, then something with an 'R'. Can you work with that?"
"Can't be too many youth-seeking witches named Tabitha out in the world." Buffy replied.
"You'd be surprised," Xander said, "That name's probably like Smith in the netherworld."
"You can come home with us," Willow said, "but only to rest. You need your strength if we're to battle any baddies."
Tara smiled. "I'd like that."
"Okay, let's get the Munchkin back home." Xander said. "By home, I mean Buffy's place."
"Mhmm," Tara retorted, "And maybe on the way we can ask the great and powerful Oz to grant you a brain."
"Don't make me drop a house on you." Xander said, feigning anger by lifting a finger towards her.
"Bring it on, Tin Man."
"Okay," Buffy said, "taking this metaphor way too far now. Let's go home."
"Metaphor? You mean they weren't serious?" Anya asked.
----------
