Unforgettable - Part 9
By Jill

Wednesday, September 6th, 7.00 a.m., Los Angeles

Buffy woke up slowly, and the first conscious thing she noticed was that
they were still lying on the living room floor. She smiled to herself
thinking about Angel's remark about her bed. No, *their* bed, she amended
silently, sadly.

Angel was right. It had been hers and Riley's bed. For three and a half
years they had shared it. Although for the last one and a half she'd been
more or less sleeping on the sofa, avoiding any physical contact with her
husband whenever possible. She'd been too disgusted by his behavior, by the
change in his attitude, to even like when he touched her hand. Looking back,
she couldn't understand why she hadn't divorced him long ago.

She started when she suddenly felt a finger touching her forehead and
opening her eyes, she saw Angel propped up on his elbow looking down on her,
his fingers smoothing the frown away that had appeared on her forehead.

He smiled when her eyes made contact with his, lowered his head and kissed
her gently. "Good Morning," he whispered, his lips only an inch apart from
hers.

She smiled as well, "Morning."

His fingers stroked her forehead again, "Heavy thoughts?" he asked a bit
concerned. After their frequent lovemaking last night he had hoped for her
to wake up with a smile on her face, but instead he'd been greeted with a
heavy frown.

Buffy sighed, pulled his hand down and kissed it, "Not really," she replied.
"I was just wondering why I didn't file for divorce long ago. Why I stayed
with Riley for so long."

He bent down and kissed her again, this time his lips lingered a while
longer, his tongue tracing her lips, then nibbling them slightly with his
teeth. "Don't," he said softly, "there's no reason to dwell in the past. You
can't change it. We have to look forward, not backward, Buffy."

She sighed again, "I know. It's just so hard. So much has happened. I still
have problems believing we're really here, together." She reached out and
traced his brows, his nose, then his lips, "I love you so very much. And I'm
so sorry. For the way I behaved, you know. When Mike died-"

"Shhh," he interrupted her, "I told you it doesn't matter anymore."

"I know. But I want to explain. I need to explain." Her eyes looked up in
his pleadingly.

"Okay," he retorted, smiling gently. "Explain. I'm listening."

"I was so happy when I was with you. I think... no, I know, I'd never been
happier before. It was so wonderful, and sometimes... Sometimes I just
couldn't believe this was real. Do you remember when we went to the beach
with Mike?" She saw him nod and went on, "That day was perfect. I was laying
in your arms that night so afraid, that something would destroy our
happiness." She paused when her eyes suddenly became moist, "Two days later
Mike was killed."

"Oh, Buffy," he said and kissed her again. "Oh, Baby."

"It was terrible. I loved Mike. But as long as I had you I could deal," she
continued, "But then the forensic report came and my world fell apart. *I*
fell apart. And Riley came to pick me up. He was very gentle, very loving
and he told me he loved me over and over again." She shook her head, "I
still don't remember all the details. But by the time I started thinking
straight again, I was already married for three months. Riley was nice and I
made myself believe I could make it work.

"You left L.A. and I convinced myself that you hated me. Cordelia laughed
when I told her. She said you couldn't hate me even if you wanted."

"Cordelia said that?" he asked, shocked.

"Yeah," she replied on a smile. "She never liked Riley. When I told her and
Willow I was going to marry him, she looked at me like I'd suddenly grown
horns. She refused to come to the wedding, and when I found out that Riley
was cheating on me, she just raised one eyebrow and had that 'I-told-you-so'
expression written allover her face. She said I should divorce him
immediately. But I couldn't, oh Angel, I couldn't."

"I know," he said and pulled her close, "I know. And I understand. You don't
have to explain that. Riley was my friend. For a very long time. And there
were many good times. I liked him; at times I even loved him. Like a
brother. It was easy to fall for his charm and sense of humor." He took her
chin between thumb and index finger and tilted her head so that she had to
look at him, "Buffy, I would never blame you. When I came to your wedding,
it was my last attempt to... I thought I could make you see. When you sent
me away, all my dreams shattered, I couldn't do anything but leave. I
couldn't stand by and watch you married to my former best friend.

"And New York wasn't bad. Besides the fact that I missed you like crazy, I
learned a lot there. Although L.A. is a big city too, it's completely
different from New York. And I met Spike. He's a damned good cop and one of
the best guys I ever met."

"I already realized that you were much more than partners. I think you
aren't even that close to Doyle."

"I haven't seen Doyle for a very long time," Angel replied, "He and Cordy
came to New York twice during the last four years. You don't want to, but
you *do* lose contact. There isn't a lot to talk about if you don't have
things to share. Spike and I worked together for nearly four years. Day
after day. He saved my life and I probably saved his in return. It's what
happens between partners. You know that."

She nodded, "Yeah. Xander says that there are things he can tell me that he
can't his wife."

"I wonder what he means," Angel muttered, but she had heard him and smacked
his chest with her palm.

"Angel! Xander's okay. It's just that Anya isn't a cop. She never was. She
doesn't know the really ugly details of our job. And Xander, as so many
other cops, tries to keep the ugliness away from her and the baby. And so
when he can't deal with things he doesn't want to bring home he talks to me.
We're working together eight ours a day, five days a week, sometimes even
more."

"Yes," he agreed. "Anyway. Spike never let me down. I would trust him with
my life. And I hope he feels the same. And we shared another thing. He came
to New York, because he fell in love with a girl. Left London and his work
and followed her. Cathleen was a model. She was very pretty, very successful
in her job, and cold as ice. He asked her to marry him. Her reply was to ask
him if he was insane. If he really thought she'd give up the opportunity to
marry a rich guy for a cop. So there we were, our hearts broken, the job to
keep us going. We understood each other."

Her voice was small, when she asked, "And you think it will heal?"

Not understanding he asked, "What? What do you mean?"

"You said your heart was broken, and-"

"Oh, Buffy," he pulled her close again. "That's just a saying. Yes, I was
heartsick, and I missed you like crazy. But holding you now, being with you
now, it's like the ultimate reward. It's so right." He kissed her quickly
and swallowed a sudden tightness in his throat away. His voice was rough
when he added, "You better realize that I don't plan to let you go - ever."

Her own eyes moist, she snuggled close, "Yeah? That's good, you know.
Because I don't plan to let you go either."

For a moment he held her so tightly to him that she had problems breathing.
But she didn't mind. The shudder that went through his body told her how
deeply he felt her words. "God, I love you," he said after a moment, his
words muffled as he buried his lips in her hair. "I love you so damn much."

"The same here," she sighed happily, reached up and pulled his head down.
"Could you kiss me again?" she asked breathily against his lips. "Just so
I'm sure that's not a dream."

He smiled, "If it's a dream then we're dreaming together."

*****

Spike's waking wasn't of the same pleasant quality. Although it had started
quite promising. He had been having the most wonderful dream. He was laying
on the beach, the sun shining down on him and turning around he saw Drusilla
beside him, clad only in a sorry excuse for a bikini. He sighed in
contentment and reached out his arm to stroke her creamy skin only to come
in contact with... nothing.

Which was odd, because he had a very clear memory of falling asleep with a woman
in his arms.

In confusion his eyes flew open and he had to blink several times to notice
that he was not on the beach, but in his bed, and to his surprise the spot
beside him was really empty. "Dru?" he asked, slowly sitting up and rubbing
his eyes. "Dru, where are you?"

When he heard no reply, he rolled himself out of bed and stepping into his
boxers stumbled towards the living room and stopped dead in his tracks. She
was sitting in the loveseat that was turned towards the window staring
outside. She wore nothing but his blue dress shirt, her bare legs and feet
tucked underneath, her arms wrapped around her body as if she was cold. Her
eyes far away, she appeared suddenly very vulnerable and fragile.

"Dru?" He said her name softly, trying not to startle her. But there was
something settling in his stomach at the sight of her, some sense of
foreboding he didn't like at all.

There was a flicker of her lids, but besides that he saw no reaction.
Tentatively he stepped closer, not liking the way she seemed to be cut off
from the world, "When did you get up, pet? Aren't you freezing?" He finally
came to stand beside her and reached out to touch when her low hiss let his
arm freeze in mid-air.

"Don't touch me." She didn't change her position, didn't loose her arms,
just sat there and stared into nothingness.

"Baby, what-" he reached out again and this time she reacted, violently.

She slapped his hand away and jumped up, bringing as much distance as
possible between her and him, "I said. Don't. Touch. Me." she hissed again,
her eyes dark and cold with anger. "I thought this time, falling for a cop,
I finally got it right," she said. "But it seems, I'm still the stupid idiot
I've always been." Her voice was bitter, and she ended the sentence on a
self-disgusted snort.

He looked at her in utter confusion, "What are you talking about? I don't
understand." He made a step into her direction, but she held out a hand.

"Don't come near me," she warned. "And don't think I'm a fool either. I
might be stupid when it comes to men, but I'm a cop and you better not
forget that."

Slowly his confusion was replaced by anger, "What," he asked again, his eyes
narrowing slightly, "are you talking about?"

"What I'm talking about?" She threw his words back at him as if they were
the most ridiculous question to ask. Then she turned her head slightly and
nodded towards the desk.

Spike turned as well, and when he saw what she was talking about he
blanched. It was his and Angel's assignment for their work in L.A. Spike had
no idea where Dru had found it, but it didn't change the facts that she now
knew. "Oh God," he said, a tremor in his voice. "Oh God," he repeated, his
eyes flying to her face, "Dru, Baby, please if you'd just listen-"

"No," she cut him off sharply, "I'm not going to listen. There is really
nothing you could say to change the facts. You're working for Internal
Affairs. Angel does too. Tell me, Spike, is it satisfying to have your work
done in bed?"

"That's not-"

"No?" her brow rose mockingly, "You didn't just combine fun and the job? Who
is meant to watch me?" she asked. When she saw him shake his head, she asked
again, her voice rising, "Who is meant to watch me? Answer me!"

He swore viciously under his breath, "I am," he bit out. "But it's not what
you think. I did not, I repeat, I did not think about the investigation when
we..." he stopped, disgusted with himself, "I'm not explaining this very
well, I-"

"Oh, you're expiation is alright for me. I understand, believe me, I
understand only too well," her voice was bitter and he could hear the hurt
underneath.

God, he would give everything to change what she had seen, but he couldn't.
All he could do now was trying to explain and hope she'd understand. She had
to understand, she was a cop after all, and she should know what it meant to
be assigned to certain job. "No, you don't," he said firmly, taking one step
towards her. "I got to watch you because Angel was too close. He erased you
from the list of suspects right from the start."

A fond smile flickered over her features, before her eyes cooled down again.
He saw that she wanted to say something, but he didn't let her, "You are a
cop, damn it. Dru, you know how that works. I had a job to do and did it.
But I fell for you so hard and fast that I lost my objectiveness too."

She looked at him speculatively for a moment, "When was the last day you
watched me?" she demanded.

He swore again, averted his eyes, "Last Monday," he replied honestly.

Her voice was carefully controlled, "I see," she said slowly. "We were
sleeping together the night before and the night after. Well, that explains
it, I think."

With two steps he was standing right in front of her, "No, it doesn't," he
shouted, planting his hands on both sides of her against the wall, "It
doesn't explain a single thing. It's the job I have to do. You aren't on my
list of suspects, but I can't change what I do. So I watched you. To bring
them a report that says you're clean."

"Oh," this time she raised both brows, "I see. You're only doing this to
exonerate me, right?"

"Exactly," he replied, relieved she seemed to understand. Her next word told
him clearly that his relief had come too soon.

"Well, thanks. I didn't even realize I needed to be exonerated," she said
sarcastically.

He slammed his palm against the wall, but she didn't do so much as blink,
"Damn it Dru," he shouted, "It's my job. When I started it, I didn't know
you. It changed quickly, but I can't let personal feelings come between what
I have to do."

Her eyes cooled even more, and her voice was like ice, "Get away from me,"
she hissed, and seeing that she meant it, Spike backed off. "I'm not at all
interested in your personal conflicts. I feel used, Spike. And nothing you
say can change that."

She was already half way towards the bedroom when he whirled around, "Dru,"
he shouted desperately, "I didn't use you. I love you."

She stopped, turned slowly, an incredibly sad smile on her face, "Maybe you
do," she said, "but at the moment, I really don't care." She closed the door
behind her and left him standing in the middle of the room, swearing a
vicious oath and violently raking his hand through his hair, wondering, what
the hell he was going to do now.

*****

Xander raised a brow when after his second ring, not Buffy but Angel opened
the door to the blonde's apartment. It wasn't that he hadn't expected him to
be there. He knew that Buffy's ex-lover had spent the last week in her
apartment more or less, but Riley'd been dead for over a week now and because
there hadn't been any feelings between them anymore, Xander thought it was
time for Buffy to go on with her life. Or rather for Angel to leave her to do
exactly that.

Still, he wasn't surprised to meet Angel there, Xander told himself inwardly,
it was more the way he stood there. As if he belonged. Well, he probably
did, Xander thought with an inward sigh. He would have to be blind not to
see what was happening between the two of them. "Angel," he said and nodded
at the other man, who stepped back and closed the door behind him.

"Xander," Angel replied and nodded as well. "You're the last. The others are
here already," he said and lead the way towards the living room, where
besides Buffy, he found also Cordelia, Doyle and Spike waiting for him.

"I see the whole squad is there already. Sorry for the delay," he said on a
grin, "but Harris Junior was a bit cranky this morning."

The others, except Spike, smiled at that. Doyle winked at his fiancée who
rolled her eyes in response. When Doyle had first started talking about
kids, she'd felt nothing but panic. First of all she wasn't mother material.
She didn't know a thing about small children. They were crying all the time,
if they didn't burp, eat, poop, or sleep. And if she could believe the young
parents she met, sleep wasn't usually high on the scale. Young parents all
suffered from sleep deprivation, and Cordelia could only guess how much
damage that did to your complexion. But she had also noticed that strange
dreamy look in their eyes. And day after day she found herself more curious
to know what it meant.

But there was also her career. She had worked really hard to become what she
was today. Not quite 31 she was the assistant DA and for a woman it was a
remarkable achievement. For a woman, she knew how that sounded, and she
would never back down under any circumstances, but Cordelia Chase was also a
realist, who knew that although women had the same rights as men, they still
had to be better, work harder, and prove themselves all the time to be
accepted in the same way. And now that she had achieved what she had worked
for the last twelve years of her life, she didn't want to give it up for a
baby. But she knew that Doyle wanted children, he was good with them, much
better than she, and during the few quiet hours it worried her.

"The joys of parenthood," Buffy joked, coming back from the kitchen holding
a tray loaded with coffee. "I suppose you can use this," she added.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you, Buffy Summers," Xander said
dramatically, and grinned when Angel raised a brow at that. Oh yeah, Xander
thought, the guy had it bad again. He sipped from his mug, "Now," he looked
around, "I think I can get used to these meetings in Buffy's apartment. It's
much nicer than the precinct."

"I should hope so," Buffy said dryly. "I'm not sure if I should feel
flattered or insulted that you even consider comparing my nice apartment to
something so old and horribly furnished."

Xander grinned, "Giles wouldn't like to hear that. For him it must have some
morbid charm. The guy practically lives there."

"He has no wife to go home to," Angel commented with a serious face.
Everybody knew that the lieutenant had once been married and deeply in love
with his wife, Jenny. Six years ago, she'd been killed, coming home early
and surprising a man in their house. The guy had come for burglary, but had
panicked when she'd discovered him.

"True," Xander said gravely, and in an attempt to lighten the mood, he
added, "But then, the guy's English, they're strange people." He had
expected to at least some reaction from Spike, but the blond was strangely
quiet, didn't even so much as to look at Xander.

"Okay, then," Cordelia put her mug down and reached for her briefcase,
"Let's discuss some things. I had a meeting with my boss and the guys from
IA yesterday and there are several new developments you should be aware of.
Plus, as Angel pointed out, it's pretty likely that our suspect knows about
his and Spike's involvement, so they are more or less out," she shifted her
attention towards Buffy and Xander, "That means you're the ones to take over
now. Be careful so that you're not discovered. We can't afford to install
someone new. We're too close."

"That's something, I wanted to talk about," Angel said, sitting down beside
Buffy. "We should be very careful," he went on, concerned eyes resting on
Buffy. "As Cordelia said, we're close. And our guy might know what's going
on."

"Meaning?" the brunette asked.

"Meaning that the bad guys behind our dirty friend might be royally pissed,"
Spike replied in his friend's place. "Meaning that if they killed Riley -
assuming it was them, and after seeing all the evidence he collected, I'd
say it's a pretty good guess. So if they killed Riley, a cop, they certainly
won't shy away from killing another one."

Cordelia inhaled sharply, her startled gaze flying to her fiancée who just
nodded, "God, that's making me so sick," she exclaimed, standing up and
beginning to pace the room. "You're my friends. All of you. And I don't want
you exposed to that kind of danger. Riley was killed with a
long-distance-weapon. That means we don't have a chance to protect you.
Maybe-"

"We can't back down now," Buffy interrupted her, standing up as well; she
took her friend's hand and stopped her pacing, "We're cops, Cordy. We know
what we risk, each day we go out there to do our job."

"She's right, Cordelia," Angel looked at the assistant DA, then at the woman
he loved, "And don't think I like it. Because I don't. In fact, I hate the
mere idea of Buffy being hurt, but she loves her job. I love mine. It's part
of what we are. Giving it up would mean giving up a part of ourselves. What
I said, I didn't say it to make you feel bad. I just want everyone in this
room be aware of the danger."

Cordelia looked at him for a long moment, considering his words, then she
said finally, "Okay. We're going through with it. Besides, if I stop this
now, my boss would eat me alive. But by God, be careful. I want all of you
alive and well when this is over."

"Hey, that's part of the job description," Xander joked, feeling anything
but. But he could see how much Cordelia was shaken. "Didn't you know? We're
the super-cops. We're undestroyable."

Cordelia forced herself to laugh cheerfully, "Well, that's good to hear.
Fine," she took a deep breath, "Now, let's go through the new evidence we've
got. I think bit by bit we're closing in on our guy."

****

Buffy put the last mug into the dishwasher, then added some soap, when she
caught Angel standing in the doorway, watching her. "Hey," she smiled,
turning towards him, and barely suppressed a gasp at the intense expression
in his eyes. "What's the matter?" she asked, walked over to him and slipped
her arms around his waist.

He sighed, pulled her close and rested his head on hers, "Promise me to be
careful," he said, his voice full of worry.

"I promise," she whispered, stroking his back. "You heard Xander. We're
indestructible," she said in a lame attempt to lighten the mood.

"Don't," Angel growled warningly. He pulled back and when she looked up she
saw the fury in his eyes. "Don't joke about it. This is serious. Cordelia
told the truth. We're closing in on this guy. And the men behind the whole
thing won't like it. And believe me, they won't hesitate a second to get rid
of a cop who'd be a danger to them."

"I know that," she replied, reaching up and cupping his cheek in one of her
hands, "Angel, I'm a cop. I know it's dangerous. I just don't want you to
worry."

"I love you," he said gruffly, "People who love, worry. That's something we
can't change. I just got you back. I couldn't stand to lose you again,
Buffy. I wouldn't know how to deal, I-" his voice cracked and he pulled her
so close, that she didn't have enough air to breathe for a moment. But she
also knew he needed it.

He loosened his grip slightly then bent down, finding her mouth for a
desperate kiss, his hands digging into her hair. When the kiss ended, they
were both breathless for a moment, "I need you," he said, planting kisses on
her forehead, on her lids, on he nose, then finally finding her mouth again,
this time kissing her gently, softly.

Then he sowed for a moment and pulled back completely, "I can't help
worrying, Buffy. But that doesn't mean I don't trust your abilities. I hope
you know that. You're a good cop. One of the best, I've ever met."

She smiled rising on tiptoe she kissed him slightly, "Thanks. That means a
lot. And I promise to be careful. You'll see. This won't go on much longer.
With the evidence Cordy gathered already, this'll be over in no time."

"Let's hope you're right," he replied, stroking the back of his hand over
her cheek.

****

Simone Chambers' eyes widened when she opened the door of her apartment,
"Mike," she said in a mixture of shock and delighted surprise, "What... I
mean, come in," she invited with a shy smile.

She hadn't expected him to come so soon, hell, she hadn't expected him to
come at all, if she was honest with herself. Not after he'd seen the
pictures of her and Riley. She'd broken down that day and he held her. But
after she blew her nose and seemed stable again, he told her that he needed
some distance, and time to think about the whole situation. She had been
devastated. Hating Riley Finn, hating the situation, hating herself, for her
own weakness.

"Do you want some coffee?" she asked, looking at the clock. "How come you
aren't on duty?" she wanted to know. "I'd expected you to be on a case."

"I am," he replied. "But I could make myself free for an hour. There are
things we have to talk about, Simone. And yes, I would like a cup of
coffee."

"Fine," she said, her stomach fluttering with nerves. He came to talk. Oh
God, what could he want to talk about, she asked herself. "Why don't you sit
down and I'll be with you in a moment."

He nodded and went for the living room, while she walked towards the
kitchen, every step torture, because her knees were like rubber, not knowing
what was about to happen. Glancing at the ring on her hand, she suppressed a
hysterical sob. Had he come to tell her he would give it another try or
would this be the end? He had looked so serious, his blue eyes suddenly
grown up.

After she'd calmed down the last time they'd seen each other, he'd been
angry. Not so much, he said, about the pictures. Although he'd certainly
been furious about them. No, he had been angry because instead of coming to
him, trusting him, she'd made the deal with Riley Finn. All that because her
father was playing dirty games.

She'd argued that she loved her father and that he should try to understand
her situation. He'd replied he had, and that he understood, but that it
still didn't change the fact that her father was a criminal and that he was
a cop. And that in the end she had to make a decision. He had left with the
words that she should call him as soon as she had made it.

She hadn't called him so far. Torn between the love for her father and for
Mike, she had been miserable. She knew that the things her father did were
wrong, but he was still her father and her mother was frail after
contracting serious pneumonia and Simone didn't know how she'd react if her
husband was to be arrested. But she had wanted to call Mike. Day after day
she'd glanced at the phone. She had even picked it up once or twice,
severely tempted to call him.

And now he was here. Had come to her apartment. And she knew without doubt
that she loved him more than anything.

With a shaky hand she poured coffee, spilling a great part on the counter,
then added cream and sugar, the way Mike liked it. Taking a deep steadying
breath, she turned and plastered a smile on her face when she entered the
living room. "Here you go," she said and put the cup down in front of him.
Not knowing what to do with her nervous hands, the linked them together,
wringing them. "Now. What did you want to talk about?"

"Us," he replied, sipping from his coffee. "I want to see if there's still
an 'us'."

"There is," she said quickly, urgently, "I strongly believe in that us."

He nodded, his gaze solemn, "That's good, because if this, 'us', can still
have a future is totally up to you."

******

Angel held Buffy close and planted a last lingering kiss on her lips before
he released her hesitantly. "Don't forget. Call me," he told her, his hand
running over her hair, then for a second resting on her cheek.

She put her hand over his, "I will. I promise. You'll see, this will all be
over soon," she smiled, and then turned towards her car that was parked at
the next corner.

Angel turned as well, making his way to his car that he had left at the
opposite corner of the block. He didn't like the situation of Buffy in
danger, but there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. They would
have to get through with this, and hope that nobody was harmed.

He was about to turn back to catch a last view on Buffy and maybe wave her
goodbye when there was suddenly a blinding light and explosion shattering
through the street.

Angel whirled around and his world stopped. There was no doubt what had
happened. There was fire and smoke coming from the other end of the street,
from the exact spot where Buffy's car had been only seconds before. Even
from this distance it was clear and for a moment he forgot how to breathe.
Then in pure agony he shouted her name.

*****

Angel stood at the third-floor window of the L.A. General Hospital, his
forehead resting against the cool glass, his hands hidden in his pockets.
Behind him the personnel of the hospital performed their duties, from
several rooms he could hear beeps and the smell of antiseptic was in the
air.

Outside the window the sun was shining brightly on this Californian
afternoon, while the streets were busy, people walking around as they did
every day, mothers laughing to her children, none of them wearing the
shocked expression of the people who had witnessed the explosion of Buffy's
car, while Angel had been kneeling on the ground, his lover's bruised,
bloody, and unconscious body in his arms, calling the ambulance at the
same time.

The rescue team who'd arrived on the scene had taken them straight to the
hospital, where ER doctors fought to counter the effects of the deadly
explosion. That had been two hours ago. Buffy had been wheeled into surgery
and he hadn't heard a word since then.

"Do you want some coffee?"

Angel slightly turned his head and looked at Faith who was standing beside
him, a worried expression on her face. She and Drusilla were the detectives
called to the scene and after doing their work they followed him and Buffy
to the hospital. "No, thanks," he replied, his voice hoarse.

"Can we do anything else?" Dru came to stand beside her partner, her face
wearing the same expression.

"No," Angel shook his head. "I don't want anything."

Faith nodded, then began to chew her lower lip as if considering something.
Finally, after exchanging a glance with Dru, she said, "The bomb was
remote-controlled."

He turned his head again, "What?" he asked, as if he hadn't understood. And
he hadn't. He wasn't able to pay real attention, his mind wandering again
and again to the swing doors that marked the entrance to surgery.

"The bomb," Faith repeated gently, touching his arm slightly with her hand,
"It was remote controlled. From what we got from the people who were around,
it seems that Buffy turned at the last moment to help a child who had fallen
with his bike. That saved her life."

"You don't know that," he said harshly, looking out of the window again.

"Yes, we do, I talked to the mother-"

"That it saved her life," he interrupted angrily. "She was alive - barely.
But the doctor said it's a close call."

Faith blanched and pulled her hand away, while Dru stepped closer, "Angel,
Faith didn't mean-"

He stopped her with an impatient gesture of his hand, "I know," he said and
shook his head, "I'm sorry. I'm..." he trailed off, sighing and shaking his
head again.

"We know," Drusilla said softly. "But she's strong, Angel. She'll make it."

He managed to give her a grateful smile, but didn't comment it. He couldn't
talk about it. Hell, he could barely bring himself to think about the fact
that the woman he loved more than anything was laying on an operation desk,
fighting for her life. He had never felt so helpless as he felt right now.
Buffy was hurt, maybe dying, and there was nothing he could do.

They all looked up when they heard people running towards them and then
Cordelia, Xander and Spike appeared at the end of the hallway. And they were
running. Panting they came to a stop in front of them. Reaching for Angel's
arm, Cordelia tried to catch her breath, "Angel, oh God. How is she?"

"Still in surgery," he replied. "We don't know anything so far. It's a
miracle that she's still alive."

Cordelia blinked sudden tears away, trying to keep herself together. She
could see that Angel was on the edge and she couldn't fall apart now. "What
happened?" she wanted to know and listened intently, as did Spike and
Xander, when Faith told them what they had found out.

Angel tuned their voices out. He couldn't listen. He knew what had happened,
and he didn't need to hear it again. Someone had placed a bomb under Buffy's
car and it had exploded when she'd come near. Only the fact that she had a
soft heart and had tried to help a child had saved her life. For now. He
took a deep breath, holding a tight rein on his emotions. He wouldn't help
her if he let go now. She would need him, later, when the doctors were
through with her. And if... he closed his eyes tightly... No, he couldn't
imagine the worst. She had to make it through it. She just had to.

He started when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, "You holding up?"

"Yeah," Angel replied glancing over his shoulder at Spike, then straightened
and turned fully around. "I'm not going to fall apart. There's too much to
do. She's going to need me and then there's the person who did this."

Spike nodded, squeezing his friend's shoulder, "That's the spirit. And we'll
get them. The cop, and the men behind all this. The lieutenant will be here
in a coule minutes. He was out of town this morning and needs to drive
back."

The dark-haired man nodded, then looked at the swing-doors again. "I love
her, Spike," he said, "I can't lose her."

"You won't. She loves you too, man. And she's a fighter. I'm sure she
doesn't want to leave you."

Angel released a pent up breath, "God, I hope you're right. I don't know
what to do if..." he trailed off, not able to voice his worst nightmare.

*

Two hours later they were still standing in the hallway in front of the
swinging doors waiting for news of Buffy. A nurse had come out, but besides
a compassionate smile she hadn't been able to give them anything. Giles had
tried to give them hope by saying that it was a good sign if it lasted long.
The lost cases were given up easily. But somehow it didn't help.

Angel was standing with his back at the wall now, his head leaned back too, his
eyes closed. They had tried to talk to him, but after a while they caught on
that all he wanted was to be left alone.

Willow and Xander had joined the crowd some time ago and were waiting with
the others now, the redhead pale and sniffling quietly, her head resting on
her childhood friend's shoulder, her thoughts with her wounded girlfriend in
the operating room.

Combing her hair away from her face, Cordelia sighed and looked around just
in time to see Spike glancing at Drusilla then quickly turning his head away
when he saw her looking at him too. The brunette lifted a curious eyebrow
and walked over to the blond detective.

"Do I see clouds in the sunny sky?" she asked, glad for any distraction from
the heavy thoughts in her mind. When Spike turned to look at her with a
question in his eyes, she said, "I got the impression that you and Dru were
an item now. So I'm just wondering if there's already trouble in paradise."

Spike glanced quickly into Dru's direction and then narrowed his eyes at
Cordelia. "Hey, don't eat me alive," she said, "I just couldn't help
noticing the... uh... hostile atmosphere."

"She found out why I really came to L.A.," he said curtly.

"I see," she said after a moment. "Well, I can understand why she's angry."

His head jerked around, "You, what? You were the one who started the whole
mess, and now you understand *her*?"

"Whoa," Cordelia held up a hand. "You agreed to work for IA. And just for
the record. I didn't start this mess. Our suspect did." She paused for a
moment, eyed him carefully. "You love her, huh?"

"Yeah, damn right, I love her," he ground out between gritted teeth. "Not
that it concerns you."

"Does she love you too?"

"Hell, if I knew," he replied, closing his eyes. "She never said a word
about her feelings. If I just..." He opened his eyes with a snap, "Well,
it's no use now. She hates me. She thinks I used her. That I used the
opportunity for a close observation with a little bit of good old sex thrown
in."

"But you didn't. And maybe you should try making her see that," she
proposed, "You made a mistake and you know that. The moment you realized
your feelings for her, the moment you became involved with her you should
have told me."

Spike let out a harsh breath, and ran a hand through his hair, "Damn, I know
that. I just thought..." he shook his head, disgusted with himself, "I was a
bloody damned fool. And I have no idea how to make her see that."

"You will." Cordelia put a hand on his shoulder, "If she cares about you,
she'll listen."

He looked at her doubtfully, "And if not?"

"Well," the brunette said, compassion in her eyes, "Then you've got all the
answers you need."

Spike gazed at her for a long moment, and then nodded slowly, "Yeah. You're
right. The question is, if I can live with it."

*

Everybody looked up when the swinging doors finally opened, and a doctor
came out, his clothes drenched in sweat, he was removing his hat, and
running a hand over his wet skull. "Mr. Reardon?" he looked around and then
nodded when Angel stepped forward. "Yes," he said, his voice barely working.

"She's alive," the doctor started, getting relieved sounds from all sides.
"It was close," he went on. "Her spleen was ruptured and we had to remove
it. Her liver was ruptured as well, but we managed to sew it up. There was
some damage to her intestines, but that was only a minor complication. Our
biggest problem was her blood loss, but after hours of hard work," he smiled
wryly, "and the help of modern technique, her constitution is steady at the
moment." Looking directly at Angel, he added, "If there aren't any more
complications, I'm quite optimistic. As I said, it was a close call, but
she's a fighter, she never gave up." He nodded again and was about to leave,
when Angel held him back.

"Can I see her?" he asked.

"She'll be moved to the ICU now and she needs rest," he smiled again, "but
you can see her for five minutes. I'll inform the nurse. She'll get you
later and take you there."

"Thanks," Angel said, and there was a world of meaning in this one word. The
doctor understood. It hadn't been the first operation of this kind for him.
He knew what relatives and friends went through in such situations and he
knew that they could hardly find words afterwards. "It's my job," he said
simply and left.

*****

"She's alive," the voice on the other end of the line hissed angrily. "The
bitch is alive."

Floyd Brady almost dropped the expensive Cuban cigar he'd been lighting only
seconds before. Swearing viciously, he looked at Lyle over the desk, "What
do you mean she's alive?" he asked.

"I thought it was easy to understand. She survived the attack. Your man made
a mess of this."

"He doesn't make mistakes," Floyd replied, putting his cigar down, reaching
for a pen instead. "He never did before."

"Well, he did this time. Summers survived. The doctor said she's going to be
fine. The news is allover the precinct. The lieutenant just announced it
with a big grin on his face."

Floyd swore again, while he was busy scribbling something on a piece of
paper, then handed it over to Lyle, whose eyes widened when he saw what his
boss had written. "It doesn't really matter if she survived or not," Floyd
told the cop at the other end of the line, "It was meant to be a warning and
I think they understood it nevertheless."

"Just don't do such a sloppy job again."

"Don't threaten me," Floyd warned.

"I'm the one on the front line. Tell Griffin, I'm going to expect a raise
for... let's call it growing danger. It's my head they'll be cutting off if
they ever find out."

"They won't," Floyd replied, slamming the receiver down. "Idiot," he hissed,
and then remembered that Lyle was still sitting opposite to him. "Why are
you still sitting here? You've got an order."

"But boss-"

Floyd raised a brow, as if to tell the other man that he wasn't used to have
his decisions questioned and Lyle shut up immediately, "Get this on the way.
Zack will know what to do and tell him... if he fails me again, it'll be the
last time."

*****

same day, 10.00 p.m.

Buffy opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the bright light that came
from the ceiling, irritated by the beeping noises around her. Where was she?
It looked and smelled a lot like a hospital, but why would she be at a
hospital, she wondered. She remembered starting the day in Angel's arms,
making love to him, then they Cordelia and the others had arrived and then -
nothing. She couldn't remember a single thing. How very odd.

She tried to move, and a sharp pain shot through her whole body, making her
groan. God, what had happened to her?

"Buffy?"

"Angel?" she said and was glad she was able to turn her head without pain.
She stifled a gasp when she saw him sitting beside her, his eyes tired and
red-rimmed, a stubble allover his chin, while deep worry lines had etched
into his handsome face. "What... what happened?"

"Don't you remember?" he asked, worried.

She shook her head and groaned at the new pain. Mental note, no fast
movements, she thought. "No. I... it's so muddled." There was a note of
panic in her voice. What had happened? Had she lost her memory? Why didn't
she remember?

"Shhh," he said and pulled her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "Your
car blew up." He saw her eyes widen, "Yeah. I thought you..." his voice
broke and he had to start again as he fought the horrible images that were
still in his minds. Images of Buffy's car bursting into flames, the smoke,
and then finding her bruised body on the pavement, refused to leave alone.
"I thought you were dead," he managed finally. "I thought I'd lost you." He
buried his face in her hand for a moment, savoring the warmth of it, then he
kissed the pulse at her wrist, the sign that she had managed to pull
through.

She wetted her dry lips, "Wha- what happened to me?"

"You were in surgery for over four hours," he told her, holding her hand in
his, needing the contact, the assurance that she was truly alive, that he
wasn't dreaming. "They had to remove your spleen. But the doctor assured us
that you could live without it. Your liver and gut was damaged too, but the
doc put you back together. He said you were great in there, a real pro." He
wasn't able to keep his tears at bay anymore and they ran freely over his
cheeks now.

With all the emotions she felt in her eyes she looked at him, reached up
with her hand and touched his lips with her thumb, "I love you," she
whispered.

He kissed her thumb, "I love you too. I love you so much."

"I know," she smiled now, and then yawned.

"Sleep," he whispered. "I'm staying. I'm your personal bodyguard and have to
stay anyway."

Her smile widened, "Good," she said, already half asleep. "Love you."

He kissed her hand again, wiped his tears away. "I love you too, baby," he
whispered, "I love you too."

... to be continued