Disclaimer: see chapter 1
DIMENSIONS: chapter 4 – Double vision
A:
"I HATE these visions!" Cordelia grabbed a doughnut and bit into it. "They stink, they hurt, and they make me hungry. I'm gonna pile on the pounds."
"Rubbish." Wesley Wyndham-Pryce glanced up from his book. "You probably work them off in the stress of the vision. What was it this time?"
Angel put a glass of water on the desk in front of Cordelia and leant against the wall, arms folded, waiting silently. He knew his friend would give him the details in time. Cordelia swallowed a mouthful of pastry, downed half the glass of water, and turned to them.
"Angel, you might want to sit down."
"I'm fine. What was it?"
"It wasn't usual." Cordelia brushed sugar off her hands. "No demons involved. It was weird, actually. I think it was Sunnydale. Probably the campus. Nice weather, the sort that's good for the tan?"
"I wouldn't know."
"That was the odd thing, it looked as if you did."
There was silence in the room, broken by the clock in Angel's office striking the hour.
"There was you and Buffy, and Willow and this girl I didn't recognise – they were holding hands, which was way freaky – wandering along a path. You had a picnic basket."
"Wait. You're sure it was me?" Angel met Cordelia's eyes. "It's important."
"Yeah, it was you or your twin brother." Cordelia paused. "You didn't have a twin brother, did you? That you changed into a vampire and forgot to tell us about?"
"No twin brothers." Angel's tone meant carry on, and Cordelia did so after more doughnut.
"You were wearing a pale blue shirt, and I swear you looked healthy. Not that pale look. Buffy was smiling. You were all smiling. And there was sun in the sky."
Angel turned around and went into his office, closing the door silently but firmly behind him. Cordelia and Wesley exchanged looks, and then Cordelia picked up her doughnut.
"He took that well."
Wesley tried to peer through closed blinds and failed. He straightened up and perched on the end of Cordelia's desk, arms folded and a thoughtful expression on his face.
"You really saw that?"
"But yes," Cordelia said. "I mean, Angel human? Not like it hasn't already happened. Could happen again."
Wesley stared, and then, in a strained voice, said, "Sorry?"
"Oh. Well, it happened … when Doyle was still here." Cordelia's eyes flicked to the photo on her desk and back to the Englishman. "Big demon, funny blood …"
"A Mohra, I imagine," Wesley nodded.
"Yeah. Buffy came to visit. Big fight, big demon gets involved, and bing! Angel's human. Apparently. But he got cold feet and asked the Oracles to turn him back."
"What?!"
"Stupid, I know. They turned back the whole day. We did things we never did and we won't remember 'cause it never happened. Y'know, I might have got a star part in something that day … Doyle might have …"
It was clear from Wesley's face that he was working this out and translating it into English.
"So, Angel was human, for a day?" She nodded. "My, my." He reflected a little longer. "Have you ever heard of alternate dimensions, Cordelia?" Cordelia drank coffee and shook her head. Wesley slipped off the edge of the table and went to a pile of books in the corner. "There is a theory, possibly completely wrong, of course, that as well as our world, there exists several others. Maybe even several million others. In these dimensions, we exist, we live our lives, but every time we choose one direction, our other selves choose another. Or another path is chosen for us."
"You mean," said Cordelia, "that maybe in another world the Oracles never turned Angel back?"
"I mean just that." Wesley's face was grave.
"Gee," said Cordelia eloquently. "And I might have seen it?"
"Yes."
"And you reckon Angel knows this?"
"I think he quite possibly does."
There was silence, and both of them looked at the window and the blinds covering it.
"Then we have to do something!" exclaimed Cordelia, jumping up. "A spell. Something. I don't care if another Angel is happy, it's this one I know and … and like, and he should be happy too."
B:
Angel turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, standing back to let Buffy go in first.
"What do you think?"
She spun around, eyes wide in astonishment. "It's … it's amazing. It's … well, you know, I kind of associated you with black, and dust and stuff."
"I decided to make a new start."
Buffy nodded, and began to inspect the apartment properly. She gasped in all the right places and made oohs of pleasure at the pale green and yellow paintwork, the comfortable blue sofas and armchairs in the sitting room, and the well-equipped, modern kitchen. Angel followed her with a smile on his lips, enjoying her excitement. He was pleased with the apartment. On the topmost floor of a building set in a quiet part of the town, it was spacious and sunny. He had succeeded in placing all his favourite pieces of art and indulged in being modern. The little study-library, with two ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, was equipped with a computer that Willow would love and books that Giles would certainly want to borrow.
"Wow." He followed Buffy out on to the flat balcony where he had put a table and two chairs, facing the sunrise for the mornings. "Angel, it's …"
"Like it?"
"I love it. You're not gonna be able to keep me away." Buffy blushed as she finished, realising a little too late exactly what she had said. Angel moved to put his arms around her and held her close.
"I don't want to keep you away. There's a chest of drawers empty in the bedroom all ready and waiting for you. And mirrors."
She smiled up at him, remembering a conversation they had had once early in the morning in the mansion.
"Drawers? For me?"
"All for you. You can bring whatever you like. The bottom one's lockable for weapons."
"You're perfect." She twisted round to face him properly. "I still keep thinking I'm going to wake up and find it's all a dream."
"It can't be. I never have nice dreams. At least, not until recently." He bent and kissed her. "Buffy … want to come and check out the drawers … now?"
She nodded, and still entwined followed him into the bedroom. The curtains, pale violet this time, were drawn, giving the room a dusky, gentle feel, and the colour was echoed in the deep purple of the bed. Buffy ran her hands over the pine chest of drawers and sniffed in the smell of the new wood.
"Open the top one," Angel said softly. She glanced at him, and opened it, and gasped. Angel picked out the box and held it out to her. "I found this in the mansion, when I cleared out. I kept it. I don't know how it got there, why I hadn't seen it before, but I want you to have it back. To wear it the right way round, if you can. What I said to you that night still stands. I love you, and I always will."
Buffy could not speak, the lump rising in her throat as she gazed at the linked hands and the heart. Angel held his hand out. "You wear it like this," he said, as he had once before, and picked out the claddagh ring. "Will you?"
"Of course." She met his eyes with that sweet, deep look he knew so well, tears of happiness shining in them, and watched as he slipped the silver ring on her finger and kissed it.
"I belong to you," he said.
"We belong to each other," Buffy replied, and lifted her head for a kiss. Angel met her mouth softly at first, and then as the kiss deepened harder, breaking the contact for a short breath of wondrous air before dropping his lips again and at the same time lifting the Slayer in his arms and dropping her on the bed.
Buffy closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Angel, still so recognisable though the mouth now kissing her neck feverishly was warm. Vaguely, as if in a dream, she felt expert fingers untying her halter neck and slipping the material off her before the kisses started again, running down her body, around her nipples, hands gliding where the mouth was not. She moaned gently as the soft, moist tongue flicked down the centre of her stomach and then fastened on her breasts, sucking, and with her own hands she pulled Angel's shirt up and over his head, feeling his back, the muscles, the warm skin under hers.
He kissed her on the mouth again and then slipped downwards, teeth on the zip of her jeans and hands pulling the material down. Buffy could feel the whole length of the hard male body on hers, the wholly human strength, and gripped in passion she used her own power to tear Angel's trousers off him, throwing them aside and running her hands over his naked buttocks, which glided away from her as he moved down to her legs, still kissing, the mouth and tongue doing all the work, her thighs tingling with the feel. She lay back and let the pleasure overwhelm her, barely registering as he pulled lace knickers from her, but gasping when a darting tongue flicked around her.
"Angel," she whispered, "dear Angel."
He moved up her body again, the brown eyes aflame as they met hers, moving into her and with her, together. And both of them knew that this time pleasure, happiness, perfection could be theirs.
A:
Angel threw open the door and stood in the doorway.
"We're going to Sunnydale."
Cordelia and Wesley looked up from their books, startled.
"Angel, is this …?" began Wesley, hesitantly. The vampire's face was drawn and haggard, the eyes almost feverishly dark against the pale skin.
"It's either the future, or it's a vision from somewhere else," Angel said firmly. "If it's the future, then I want to be there. If it's from another dimension, then it's a spell. And the only person I know capable of performing such a spell is Willow."
"Hence Sunnydale." Wesley closed his book and stood up. "But not right now."
"We leave at sundown. You have one hour and thirty-seven minutes to get ready and get back here." Angel looked at them both for a second and then turned, closing the door behind him. They heard the hum of the lift.
"Time to go home," sighed Cordelia.
B:
Riley closed the door behind him.
The room was full, as usual. For a moment his tired brain wondered whether any of them actually had homes, or if they all lived with the English librarian. Eight pairs of eyes looked back at him, some angry, some sympathetic, some merely clinically interested.
Riley did a double-take and stared back into the interested ones. "I know you!" he exclaimed.
Spike shook his head energetically. "Me? Couldn't possibly. I'm just … a friend of … Rupert's … Xander's …"
"Hostile 17," Riley said, jabbing his finger in Spike's direction. "It escaped."
"Hello!" Spike spread his hands out. "I'm here. You can talk to me, y'know. Bloody humans," he muttered to himself.
"That's just Spike," Buffy said, leaning back into Angel's arms. "He's a … he's safe, anyway. Doesn't bite anymore. Your chip did its job."
"Hey!" Spike exclaimed. "I'm evil, remember? I'm a vampire. Grrr?"
"Shut up, Will," Angel said tiredly. "You're not fooling anyone."
"What do you want, Riley?" asked Buffy.
He sagged against the doorframe. "It's Professor Walsh. She's … she's dead." Willow gasped, and searched blindly for Tara's comforting hand. Buffy cast her eyes downwards. "It happened in the Initiative," Riley continued, for once not caring who heard him. "Stabbed. With a sharp pointed stick. Wooden."
"You're not …"
"It was suggested," said Riley, without moving to defend Buffy.
"I haven't been near her!" said Buffy. "I've been here, and at college, all day. I wouldn't kill Professor Walsh. I don't kill humans."
"It's against the code," Giles commented, offhand.
"A wooden stick," repeated Riley. "You may …"
He stepped back into the door, finding himself faced by someone taller than him, broader than him, and angrier than him. "Buffy would not do such a thing," Angel said, very quietly and menacingly. "Look elsewhere for a culprit. But leave the Slayer out of this." He met Riley's eyes hard for a second, and went back to Buffy. Giles, risen from his seat, nodded.
"Let me add to that, Mr Finn. Even suggesting the Slayer is guilty of murder is … unthinkable. Search amongst your demons for the killer." He stared at Riley with a look very reminiscent of Ripper, and sat down again, replacing his glasses.
"I … I …" stammered Riley. "I'm sorry, Buffy."
"Good." Everyone turned towards the speaker, who shrugged. "Look, it's in my interest to keep up the Slayer's profile, ain't it? Don't want people goin' around saying the two I got rid of weren't worth it. Reputation an' all that?" Spike shook his head. "Hell, if it wasn't so bleedin' sure I'd get my ass kicked – again – I'd be fightin' for whatever it was that topped your prof. But nah, chip deals with that." He scowled and fell silent.
Riley shook his head. "All this time – you've been sheltering an HST, and you never told me?" He made a face of disgust. "You – all of you. You're unnatural. Vampires. Ex-vampires. Slayers. And god knows what else."
"Trust me," muttered Xander, "you really don't want to know."
"We'll look for Professor Walsh's murderer," said Buffy. "If it's human, I'll let you know. If not I'll kill it. I'm sorry, Riley, I really am, but it wasn't me, I swear."
"I believe you. That's all." Riley looked carefully at each of them, shook his head and disappeared. The door slammed behind him.
A:
"There's nobody in," said Wesley, coming back to the car. "It's extremely odd, I never knew Mr Giles …"
"The college," said Angel, turning on the ignition. "Get in, Wes."
Wesley climbed in and exchanged a look with Cordelia. The journey to Sunnydale had been high-speed and tense, none of them speaking very much. Both Cordelia and Wesley were concerned about their friend's obsessive state, but Angel did not seem to notice as he pushed the convertible to its limits on the straight road between Los Angeles and Sunnydale. Once only quick vampiric reactions prevented them from hitting another car, but they reached the small town safely, only to find an empty Watcher's house.
At the dormitory Angel jumped out of the vehicle, followed by his companions, and took the stairs inside Stevenson Hall two at a time. They stood outside the door as he banged it and called Buffy's name, but –
"There's nobody in here either," said Cordelia. "You sure it's the right one?"
Angel leant against the door, almost as if he was trying to break it down. "Yes," he replied emptily. "Buffy, it's me!" he tried again. "Buffy?" He rattled the handle, and then, glancing quickly up and down the corridor, forced the door open with a cracking of the lock.
"Are you sure that's …" started Wesley, and then shut his mouth as he saw Angel's face. The three of them slipped inside the room, Cordelia murmuring a quick invitation for Angel.
It was clearly empty, the beds neatly made with cushions and stuffed animals perched on the head ends.
"Nobody's been here all day," Angel murmured, absently stroking Mr Gordo's back as he sat down on Buffy's bed. "Nobody's here."
Cordelia patted his shoulder comfortingly. "How about Buffy's moms? Or Willow's? Or … or Xander's?"
"Do you know the way to Xander's?" asked Angel, leading the way out of the dormitory.
Cordelia blushed a little. "Of course. We dated, remember?"
Angel started the car up again. "You were always the oddest couple in the group, I think. Even beating Buffy and myself."
"Xander did me good," Cordelia admitted, after a pause. "I thought I was the best, that him and Willow were geeks, but I guess I found out they cared about things."
"Food, in particular," commented Wesley from the passenger seat.
Cordelia gave the directions and after a short drive the black car pulled up outside the small bungalow from which no lights shone.
"Doesn't look hopeful." Cordelia shook her head and climbed out of the car, and they followed her down the path and round the side of the house, going down a short flight of stairs. She banged on the door, and after a pause it opened a crack.
"Yeah?"
"Xander, it's Cordy."
The door opened wider, and Xander's face poked out. "Cordy? What're you doing here?" He peered into the darkness. "Wesley? Deadboy?"
"Don't call me that," said Angel quietly. "Is Buffy there? Can we come in?"
"Can't stop the others," Xander said cheerfully, allowing them to pass. There was a Willow-pitched squeal from inside the room, and a murmur that Angel recognised as Giles. "Yeah, she's here. Want to upset her again? You know, everything's going right for her at the moment. With Riley and everything."
"Xander." Angel's voice was weary. "It's important. You know I wouldn't have come if it wasn't. Let me in. Please."
Xander stared at the vampire for a moment and then stood back. "Come in."
Buffy was sitting on the large pulled-out couch in the crowded room, stroking gently the blond hair of a sleeping boy. Man, Angel corrected himself. A young man, but a man. In camouflage uniform, none the less. She looked up as Angel came in and their eyes met, her hand stilled.
"Angel."
"Buffy." The same enigmatic greeting that had been theirs since the start, but now her voice was filled with suspicion and coolness.
"Angel!" squeaked Willow, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a heavy book on her lap.
"Hey." He nodded at them all, generally. Giles looked away. Angel's eyes turned automatically back to Buffy and the figure asleep on the bed.
"Buffy?" Now the word was a question. She smiled sadly.
"My boyfriend, Angel. Riley. He's sick. We don't know what with …"
"It's not the plague," interjected Anya, lightly. "Or measles, or polio. Could be swamp fever. I gave …"
"Shhhh." Xander gave his girlfriend a look that quietened her.
"And we need to know why he's ill. And we need to kill a demon thing."
"Business as usual on the Hellmouth," said Wesley. "May I help, Mr Giles?"
"For God's sake, man, drop the Mr," Giles said irritably. "Even they call me just Giles." He waved a hand vaguely around the room with his glasses. "Grab a book."
Wesley chose one at random and settled down to read.
"I don't care," Angel said to Buffy. "For once, I don't care. I just need to know – do you remember?"
There was silence in the room, and everyone stopped what they were doing. Buffy looked down at Riley and up again at Angel. "Do I remember what?"
"Do you remember … the day I was human?"
Now the silence was deep and thick, almost as if nobody dared breathe. Buffy stared at the vampire, her eyes large and worried and hurt.
"What?" Her voice was a whisper. "What?"
He told her, the rest of them hanging on to his soft, pained words although they were meant only for the Slayer's ears. Halfway through the account Buffy looked down and wiped her eyes with the back of a hand, running the other through Riley's damp hair.
"Do you remember?" Angel repeated, at the end. "Because Cordelia had a vision. She saw us, together, in the sunlight. I need to know why."
"You did that, and you never told me? They took my memories away?" Buffy stood up, turning away from him. "Something took my memories away from me?"
"I couldn't see you die for me. I couldn't …"
"We had that, and you took it away? It would … my love for you has nothing to do with being the Slayer," Buffy said, softly but urgently.
"Has?"
"You left me, not the other way round. Riley … I don't know what I feel for Riley. He means something. I don't love him like I love you. And you did that?"
She sank down on the bed again and let the tears run, and Willow got up from her seat on the floor and went to put her arm around the Slayer. Angel, his face tense, looked for a second before hastily leaving the room.
B:
Buffy put her arm around Angel's waist.
"Let's forget Adam today, shall we? Go for a picnic? Get Xander and Anya?"
"Xander's selling something," Willow said happily. "Ice-cream, I think."
"Well, then, the four of us. Or perhaps we should get Giles?"
"He'd feel strange," Angel pointed out. "Odd wheel, or something. Trust me. he'd be delighted to be asked but he'd feel he had to accept, and I'm sure he's happier amongst his books."
Tara glanced at Angel quickly. "You're … there's something about Mr G – Giles that m – makes you nervous, isn't there?"
"It's a long unpleasant story," Angel told her. "It's far too nice a day to go into it now. A picnic sounds lovely."
Tara smiled at him, and nodded, and Angel had the brief, uncomfortable feeling she could see into his mind. She squeezed Willow's hand and the two witches shared a glance of understanding.
"I'll explain later," Willow said softly.
They wandered along in the sunshine, chatting and laughing. Buffy, close in Angel's warmth, glanced up at his smiling face and felt a wave of unutterable euphoria come over her. The days of aching pleasure and unbearable pain were over. The days of black too. Today Angel had on a pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved pale grey shirt which they had chosen together on a shopping trip, and Buffy proudly thought he looked wonderful.
DIMENSIONS: chapter 4 – Double vision
A:
"I HATE these visions!" Cordelia grabbed a doughnut and bit into it. "They stink, they hurt, and they make me hungry. I'm gonna pile on the pounds."
"Rubbish." Wesley Wyndham-Pryce glanced up from his book. "You probably work them off in the stress of the vision. What was it this time?"
Angel put a glass of water on the desk in front of Cordelia and leant against the wall, arms folded, waiting silently. He knew his friend would give him the details in time. Cordelia swallowed a mouthful of pastry, downed half the glass of water, and turned to them.
"Angel, you might want to sit down."
"I'm fine. What was it?"
"It wasn't usual." Cordelia brushed sugar off her hands. "No demons involved. It was weird, actually. I think it was Sunnydale. Probably the campus. Nice weather, the sort that's good for the tan?"
"I wouldn't know."
"That was the odd thing, it looked as if you did."
There was silence in the room, broken by the clock in Angel's office striking the hour.
"There was you and Buffy, and Willow and this girl I didn't recognise – they were holding hands, which was way freaky – wandering along a path. You had a picnic basket."
"Wait. You're sure it was me?" Angel met Cordelia's eyes. "It's important."
"Yeah, it was you or your twin brother." Cordelia paused. "You didn't have a twin brother, did you? That you changed into a vampire and forgot to tell us about?"
"No twin brothers." Angel's tone meant carry on, and Cordelia did so after more doughnut.
"You were wearing a pale blue shirt, and I swear you looked healthy. Not that pale look. Buffy was smiling. You were all smiling. And there was sun in the sky."
Angel turned around and went into his office, closing the door silently but firmly behind him. Cordelia and Wesley exchanged looks, and then Cordelia picked up her doughnut.
"He took that well."
Wesley tried to peer through closed blinds and failed. He straightened up and perched on the end of Cordelia's desk, arms folded and a thoughtful expression on his face.
"You really saw that?"
"But yes," Cordelia said. "I mean, Angel human? Not like it hasn't already happened. Could happen again."
Wesley stared, and then, in a strained voice, said, "Sorry?"
"Oh. Well, it happened … when Doyle was still here." Cordelia's eyes flicked to the photo on her desk and back to the Englishman. "Big demon, funny blood …"
"A Mohra, I imagine," Wesley nodded.
"Yeah. Buffy came to visit. Big fight, big demon gets involved, and bing! Angel's human. Apparently. But he got cold feet and asked the Oracles to turn him back."
"What?!"
"Stupid, I know. They turned back the whole day. We did things we never did and we won't remember 'cause it never happened. Y'know, I might have got a star part in something that day … Doyle might have …"
It was clear from Wesley's face that he was working this out and translating it into English.
"So, Angel was human, for a day?" She nodded. "My, my." He reflected a little longer. "Have you ever heard of alternate dimensions, Cordelia?" Cordelia drank coffee and shook her head. Wesley slipped off the edge of the table and went to a pile of books in the corner. "There is a theory, possibly completely wrong, of course, that as well as our world, there exists several others. Maybe even several million others. In these dimensions, we exist, we live our lives, but every time we choose one direction, our other selves choose another. Or another path is chosen for us."
"You mean," said Cordelia, "that maybe in another world the Oracles never turned Angel back?"
"I mean just that." Wesley's face was grave.
"Gee," said Cordelia eloquently. "And I might have seen it?"
"Yes."
"And you reckon Angel knows this?"
"I think he quite possibly does."
There was silence, and both of them looked at the window and the blinds covering it.
"Then we have to do something!" exclaimed Cordelia, jumping up. "A spell. Something. I don't care if another Angel is happy, it's this one I know and … and like, and he should be happy too."
B:
Angel turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, standing back to let Buffy go in first.
"What do you think?"
She spun around, eyes wide in astonishment. "It's … it's amazing. It's … well, you know, I kind of associated you with black, and dust and stuff."
"I decided to make a new start."
Buffy nodded, and began to inspect the apartment properly. She gasped in all the right places and made oohs of pleasure at the pale green and yellow paintwork, the comfortable blue sofas and armchairs in the sitting room, and the well-equipped, modern kitchen. Angel followed her with a smile on his lips, enjoying her excitement. He was pleased with the apartment. On the topmost floor of a building set in a quiet part of the town, it was spacious and sunny. He had succeeded in placing all his favourite pieces of art and indulged in being modern. The little study-library, with two ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, was equipped with a computer that Willow would love and books that Giles would certainly want to borrow.
"Wow." He followed Buffy out on to the flat balcony where he had put a table and two chairs, facing the sunrise for the mornings. "Angel, it's …"
"Like it?"
"I love it. You're not gonna be able to keep me away." Buffy blushed as she finished, realising a little too late exactly what she had said. Angel moved to put his arms around her and held her close.
"I don't want to keep you away. There's a chest of drawers empty in the bedroom all ready and waiting for you. And mirrors."
She smiled up at him, remembering a conversation they had had once early in the morning in the mansion.
"Drawers? For me?"
"All for you. You can bring whatever you like. The bottom one's lockable for weapons."
"You're perfect." She twisted round to face him properly. "I still keep thinking I'm going to wake up and find it's all a dream."
"It can't be. I never have nice dreams. At least, not until recently." He bent and kissed her. "Buffy … want to come and check out the drawers … now?"
She nodded, and still entwined followed him into the bedroom. The curtains, pale violet this time, were drawn, giving the room a dusky, gentle feel, and the colour was echoed in the deep purple of the bed. Buffy ran her hands over the pine chest of drawers and sniffed in the smell of the new wood.
"Open the top one," Angel said softly. She glanced at him, and opened it, and gasped. Angel picked out the box and held it out to her. "I found this in the mansion, when I cleared out. I kept it. I don't know how it got there, why I hadn't seen it before, but I want you to have it back. To wear it the right way round, if you can. What I said to you that night still stands. I love you, and I always will."
Buffy could not speak, the lump rising in her throat as she gazed at the linked hands and the heart. Angel held his hand out. "You wear it like this," he said, as he had once before, and picked out the claddagh ring. "Will you?"
"Of course." She met his eyes with that sweet, deep look he knew so well, tears of happiness shining in them, and watched as he slipped the silver ring on her finger and kissed it.
"I belong to you," he said.
"We belong to each other," Buffy replied, and lifted her head for a kiss. Angel met her mouth softly at first, and then as the kiss deepened harder, breaking the contact for a short breath of wondrous air before dropping his lips again and at the same time lifting the Slayer in his arms and dropping her on the bed.
Buffy closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of Angel, still so recognisable though the mouth now kissing her neck feverishly was warm. Vaguely, as if in a dream, she felt expert fingers untying her halter neck and slipping the material off her before the kisses started again, running down her body, around her nipples, hands gliding where the mouth was not. She moaned gently as the soft, moist tongue flicked down the centre of her stomach and then fastened on her breasts, sucking, and with her own hands she pulled Angel's shirt up and over his head, feeling his back, the muscles, the warm skin under hers.
He kissed her on the mouth again and then slipped downwards, teeth on the zip of her jeans and hands pulling the material down. Buffy could feel the whole length of the hard male body on hers, the wholly human strength, and gripped in passion she used her own power to tear Angel's trousers off him, throwing them aside and running her hands over his naked buttocks, which glided away from her as he moved down to her legs, still kissing, the mouth and tongue doing all the work, her thighs tingling with the feel. She lay back and let the pleasure overwhelm her, barely registering as he pulled lace knickers from her, but gasping when a darting tongue flicked around her.
"Angel," she whispered, "dear Angel."
He moved up her body again, the brown eyes aflame as they met hers, moving into her and with her, together. And both of them knew that this time pleasure, happiness, perfection could be theirs.
A:
Angel threw open the door and stood in the doorway.
"We're going to Sunnydale."
Cordelia and Wesley looked up from their books, startled.
"Angel, is this …?" began Wesley, hesitantly. The vampire's face was drawn and haggard, the eyes almost feverishly dark against the pale skin.
"It's either the future, or it's a vision from somewhere else," Angel said firmly. "If it's the future, then I want to be there. If it's from another dimension, then it's a spell. And the only person I know capable of performing such a spell is Willow."
"Hence Sunnydale." Wesley closed his book and stood up. "But not right now."
"We leave at sundown. You have one hour and thirty-seven minutes to get ready and get back here." Angel looked at them both for a second and then turned, closing the door behind him. They heard the hum of the lift.
"Time to go home," sighed Cordelia.
B:
Riley closed the door behind him.
The room was full, as usual. For a moment his tired brain wondered whether any of them actually had homes, or if they all lived with the English librarian. Eight pairs of eyes looked back at him, some angry, some sympathetic, some merely clinically interested.
Riley did a double-take and stared back into the interested ones. "I know you!" he exclaimed.
Spike shook his head energetically. "Me? Couldn't possibly. I'm just … a friend of … Rupert's … Xander's …"
"Hostile 17," Riley said, jabbing his finger in Spike's direction. "It escaped."
"Hello!" Spike spread his hands out. "I'm here. You can talk to me, y'know. Bloody humans," he muttered to himself.
"That's just Spike," Buffy said, leaning back into Angel's arms. "He's a … he's safe, anyway. Doesn't bite anymore. Your chip did its job."
"Hey!" Spike exclaimed. "I'm evil, remember? I'm a vampire. Grrr?"
"Shut up, Will," Angel said tiredly. "You're not fooling anyone."
"What do you want, Riley?" asked Buffy.
He sagged against the doorframe. "It's Professor Walsh. She's … she's dead." Willow gasped, and searched blindly for Tara's comforting hand. Buffy cast her eyes downwards. "It happened in the Initiative," Riley continued, for once not caring who heard him. "Stabbed. With a sharp pointed stick. Wooden."
"You're not …"
"It was suggested," said Riley, without moving to defend Buffy.
"I haven't been near her!" said Buffy. "I've been here, and at college, all day. I wouldn't kill Professor Walsh. I don't kill humans."
"It's against the code," Giles commented, offhand.
"A wooden stick," repeated Riley. "You may …"
He stepped back into the door, finding himself faced by someone taller than him, broader than him, and angrier than him. "Buffy would not do such a thing," Angel said, very quietly and menacingly. "Look elsewhere for a culprit. But leave the Slayer out of this." He met Riley's eyes hard for a second, and went back to Buffy. Giles, risen from his seat, nodded.
"Let me add to that, Mr Finn. Even suggesting the Slayer is guilty of murder is … unthinkable. Search amongst your demons for the killer." He stared at Riley with a look very reminiscent of Ripper, and sat down again, replacing his glasses.
"I … I …" stammered Riley. "I'm sorry, Buffy."
"Good." Everyone turned towards the speaker, who shrugged. "Look, it's in my interest to keep up the Slayer's profile, ain't it? Don't want people goin' around saying the two I got rid of weren't worth it. Reputation an' all that?" Spike shook his head. "Hell, if it wasn't so bleedin' sure I'd get my ass kicked – again – I'd be fightin' for whatever it was that topped your prof. But nah, chip deals with that." He scowled and fell silent.
Riley shook his head. "All this time – you've been sheltering an HST, and you never told me?" He made a face of disgust. "You – all of you. You're unnatural. Vampires. Ex-vampires. Slayers. And god knows what else."
"Trust me," muttered Xander, "you really don't want to know."
"We'll look for Professor Walsh's murderer," said Buffy. "If it's human, I'll let you know. If not I'll kill it. I'm sorry, Riley, I really am, but it wasn't me, I swear."
"I believe you. That's all." Riley looked carefully at each of them, shook his head and disappeared. The door slammed behind him.
A:
"There's nobody in," said Wesley, coming back to the car. "It's extremely odd, I never knew Mr Giles …"
"The college," said Angel, turning on the ignition. "Get in, Wes."
Wesley climbed in and exchanged a look with Cordelia. The journey to Sunnydale had been high-speed and tense, none of them speaking very much. Both Cordelia and Wesley were concerned about their friend's obsessive state, but Angel did not seem to notice as he pushed the convertible to its limits on the straight road between Los Angeles and Sunnydale. Once only quick vampiric reactions prevented them from hitting another car, but they reached the small town safely, only to find an empty Watcher's house.
At the dormitory Angel jumped out of the vehicle, followed by his companions, and took the stairs inside Stevenson Hall two at a time. They stood outside the door as he banged it and called Buffy's name, but –
"There's nobody in here either," said Cordelia. "You sure it's the right one?"
Angel leant against the door, almost as if he was trying to break it down. "Yes," he replied emptily. "Buffy, it's me!" he tried again. "Buffy?" He rattled the handle, and then, glancing quickly up and down the corridor, forced the door open with a cracking of the lock.
"Are you sure that's …" started Wesley, and then shut his mouth as he saw Angel's face. The three of them slipped inside the room, Cordelia murmuring a quick invitation for Angel.
It was clearly empty, the beds neatly made with cushions and stuffed animals perched on the head ends.
"Nobody's been here all day," Angel murmured, absently stroking Mr Gordo's back as he sat down on Buffy's bed. "Nobody's here."
Cordelia patted his shoulder comfortingly. "How about Buffy's moms? Or Willow's? Or … or Xander's?"
"Do you know the way to Xander's?" asked Angel, leading the way out of the dormitory.
Cordelia blushed a little. "Of course. We dated, remember?"
Angel started the car up again. "You were always the oddest couple in the group, I think. Even beating Buffy and myself."
"Xander did me good," Cordelia admitted, after a pause. "I thought I was the best, that him and Willow were geeks, but I guess I found out they cared about things."
"Food, in particular," commented Wesley from the passenger seat.
Cordelia gave the directions and after a short drive the black car pulled up outside the small bungalow from which no lights shone.
"Doesn't look hopeful." Cordelia shook her head and climbed out of the car, and they followed her down the path and round the side of the house, going down a short flight of stairs. She banged on the door, and after a pause it opened a crack.
"Yeah?"
"Xander, it's Cordy."
The door opened wider, and Xander's face poked out. "Cordy? What're you doing here?" He peered into the darkness. "Wesley? Deadboy?"
"Don't call me that," said Angel quietly. "Is Buffy there? Can we come in?"
"Can't stop the others," Xander said cheerfully, allowing them to pass. There was a Willow-pitched squeal from inside the room, and a murmur that Angel recognised as Giles. "Yeah, she's here. Want to upset her again? You know, everything's going right for her at the moment. With Riley and everything."
"Xander." Angel's voice was weary. "It's important. You know I wouldn't have come if it wasn't. Let me in. Please."
Xander stared at the vampire for a moment and then stood back. "Come in."
Buffy was sitting on the large pulled-out couch in the crowded room, stroking gently the blond hair of a sleeping boy. Man, Angel corrected himself. A young man, but a man. In camouflage uniform, none the less. She looked up as Angel came in and their eyes met, her hand stilled.
"Angel."
"Buffy." The same enigmatic greeting that had been theirs since the start, but now her voice was filled with suspicion and coolness.
"Angel!" squeaked Willow, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a heavy book on her lap.
"Hey." He nodded at them all, generally. Giles looked away. Angel's eyes turned automatically back to Buffy and the figure asleep on the bed.
"Buffy?" Now the word was a question. She smiled sadly.
"My boyfriend, Angel. Riley. He's sick. We don't know what with …"
"It's not the plague," interjected Anya, lightly. "Or measles, or polio. Could be swamp fever. I gave …"
"Shhhh." Xander gave his girlfriend a look that quietened her.
"And we need to know why he's ill. And we need to kill a demon thing."
"Business as usual on the Hellmouth," said Wesley. "May I help, Mr Giles?"
"For God's sake, man, drop the Mr," Giles said irritably. "Even they call me just Giles." He waved a hand vaguely around the room with his glasses. "Grab a book."
Wesley chose one at random and settled down to read.
"I don't care," Angel said to Buffy. "For once, I don't care. I just need to know – do you remember?"
There was silence in the room, and everyone stopped what they were doing. Buffy looked down at Riley and up again at Angel. "Do I remember what?"
"Do you remember … the day I was human?"
Now the silence was deep and thick, almost as if nobody dared breathe. Buffy stared at the vampire, her eyes large and worried and hurt.
"What?" Her voice was a whisper. "What?"
He told her, the rest of them hanging on to his soft, pained words although they were meant only for the Slayer's ears. Halfway through the account Buffy looked down and wiped her eyes with the back of a hand, running the other through Riley's damp hair.
"Do you remember?" Angel repeated, at the end. "Because Cordelia had a vision. She saw us, together, in the sunlight. I need to know why."
"You did that, and you never told me? They took my memories away?" Buffy stood up, turning away from him. "Something took my memories away from me?"
"I couldn't see you die for me. I couldn't …"
"We had that, and you took it away? It would … my love for you has nothing to do with being the Slayer," Buffy said, softly but urgently.
"Has?"
"You left me, not the other way round. Riley … I don't know what I feel for Riley. He means something. I don't love him like I love you. And you did that?"
She sank down on the bed again and let the tears run, and Willow got up from her seat on the floor and went to put her arm around the Slayer. Angel, his face tense, looked for a second before hastily leaving the room.
B:
Buffy put her arm around Angel's waist.
"Let's forget Adam today, shall we? Go for a picnic? Get Xander and Anya?"
"Xander's selling something," Willow said happily. "Ice-cream, I think."
"Well, then, the four of us. Or perhaps we should get Giles?"
"He'd feel strange," Angel pointed out. "Odd wheel, or something. Trust me. he'd be delighted to be asked but he'd feel he had to accept, and I'm sure he's happier amongst his books."
Tara glanced at Angel quickly. "You're … there's something about Mr G – Giles that m – makes you nervous, isn't there?"
"It's a long unpleasant story," Angel told her. "It's far too nice a day to go into it now. A picnic sounds lovely."
Tara smiled at him, and nodded, and Angel had the brief, uncomfortable feeling she could see into his mind. She squeezed Willow's hand and the two witches shared a glance of understanding.
"I'll explain later," Willow said softly.
They wandered along in the sunshine, chatting and laughing. Buffy, close in Angel's warmth, glanced up at his smiling face and felt a wave of unutterable euphoria come over her. The days of aching pleasure and unbearable pain were over. The days of black too. Today Angel had on a pair of blue jeans and a short-sleeved pale grey shirt which they had chosen together on a shopping trip, and Buffy proudly thought he looked wonderful.