All Roads Lead to Sunnydale

Part 4 By Gem

What was he hoping for?

Angel considered his answer carefully before he spoke. Once he had nothing to hope for, or dream about, or survive for. He moved from night to night because he lacked sufficient interest in life even to end it. Then he saw a young blonde girl called to face a terrible destiny, and all that she was became all the he hoped for. She was his light, his salvation, and he would do anything to be worthy of her.

And then he realized he never would be, as long as he was less than a man.

Now he faced the possibility that he would again become a man someday. But in the meantime, in the years or even centuries before he had earned the chance to be what he had once taken for granted, what right did he have to keep her captive to his future? If he hoped for anything in this world, it was a chance to grow old with Buffy, but to confide in her the possibility was to chain her to his side indefinitely.

And that was assuming by his side was where she wanted to be in the first place.

"Angel, what aren't you telling me?" Buffy was trying to control her voice, but she knew her fear was broadcasting loud and clear.

"Nothing," he sighed. "You know everything that matters, Buffy. I told you what I hoped for. I want us to be friends. Let it go."

"No, you said it like there was something more after all that," she insisted. She tugged on his arm, gently forcing him to confront her face to face. "I may not be a whiz in school, but I know when you use that voice there's more in the footnotes that you're hoping I won't bother to read."

"Read the last page, Buffy. It says 'the end,' as in the end of this conversation."

"You are not backing out of this one, Cryptic Guy." Obviously more drastic methods were called for. She grabbed a handful of his shirt to hold him captive. "I can still tell when you're trying too hard not to tell me something. I don't mind when we fight, Angel; I never did. At least when we fight, we're doing it together. It's the shut-down-and-walk-away part that's a bitch."

Now it was she who turned away.

"Well now you have someone who can stick around after the fighting's over," he said wearily to her back. He had to keep reminding himself of Riley's existence or he would let himself slip. She was too close, and too vulnerable, and he was never very good at resisting temptation.

"No, now I'm the one who shuts down. But I'm too afraid to walk away," she admitted grudgingly.

"Buffy, I don't..."

A series of knocks on the door cut him off.

"Angel! Buffy! Are you still here?" Wesley's slightly high-pitched voice could barely be heard over the din undoubtedly produced by Gunn's fist.

"I'll get it."

Angel caught her arm as she walked past him to open the door. "Wait," he said urgently. "What were you just saying? If you need to talk..."

"Oh suddenly I'm the one who needs to open up? I think I've already said too much." She shook off his hand and opened the door. "Come on in guys. We've been waiting for you."

* * * * *

"I'm fine, Cordelia. No, she hasn't tried to stake me...or behead me...no, she's not packing holy water either." Angel put his hand over the cell phone and smiled apologetically at Buffy. "She really doesn't mean this the way it sounds," he said weakly.

Returning his attention to his assistant, he continued to reassure her. "No, I'm not evil either, but thanks for asking...we're going to Sunnydale first, then I'll be back...yes in time for the party...okay, fine, the blue shirt, but not the tie...because I don't like ties...because vampires are a little sensitive in the neck, if you must know...yes, I said Sunnydale. I was wondering when you'd pick up on that...no, you can't talk me out of it...no, I...no, I can't." He sighed. "Okay, yes, fine, if I have time I will stop by Aura's house and see if she ever got the bloodstains out of the shoes you loaned her for graduation...yes, Italian leather is hard to clean. Goodbye, Cordelia."

Angel clicked off the phone a moment later and shook his head. "She really is working on that tact thing, but some days it's an uphill climb." He glanced at Gunn, waving the phone slightly. "I'm not sure if I should thank you for recharging this or not."

"Don't bite the messenger, man; you're the one who hired her." Gunn held up his hands to ward off any responsibility.

"Did I?" Angel asked with a small smile. "I've always been a little hazy on the details."

"Well now that you've checked in with mom, can we go?" Buffy said acidly. "We still have a four hour drive, and I need to stop at my house when we get to Sunnydale."

"Yes, I'm sure Buffy will need to find more suitable, umm, garments for fighting in," Wesley said awkwardly to Angel, waving his hand at the fashion plate in question.

"I don't know," Gunn said speculatively, running his eyes up and down her lithe figure. "She looks pretty fine to me as is." He was smirking at his own cleverness, until he glanced over at Angel and realized the vampire was not in the least bit amused. "I mean she looks nice. Real nice," he hastily defended himself, trying not to smile.

"She wants weapons," the vampire growled.

"I have found they make dandy accessories," Buffy admitted, grinning at Angel's discomfiture. "Though it's hard to find a crossbow in basic black. They all go for the natural wood look." Her smile softened. "I'm assuming most of your toys were lost in the explosion."

He nodded, still glowering at Gunn.

"I'm also assuming you're rebuilding the arsenal one piece at a time, combing every antique shop in LA with nighttime hours, instead of just going down to the power tools section of Sears and stocking up on chainsaws." She tried to sound exasperated, but an unwilling note of pride crept through.

"She really does have you pegged." Gunn didn't bother to restrain his laughter this time.

"We'll stop at my house for supplies," Buffy continued, ignoring Gunn. "I can call Spike then too and see if he's located the Belos demon yet. Otherwise we have some tracking to do."

"Spike?" Wesley said faintly. "You've entrusted a portion of this mission to Spike? What would Giles say?"

"Things have changed, Wes," she said impatiently. "I don't trust Spike to cover my back, but I do trust his greed. He knows I won't pay him unless his information is good, and he knows what I'll do to him if I don't get my money's worth." She paused for a moment. "Well, actually it was Mom's money's worth of my textbook money, and I haven't mentioned that part to her yet, or really any of this...but I will. Eventually."

Gunn opened the curtains slightly, and then all the way. "Sun's set, so I guess you can take off in style. No cover on the Batmobile."

"What took you guys so long anyway?" Angel asked as checked the room for anything they might need to bring. "We expected you hours ago."

Memories of those sweet, painful hours cooled the last remaining flames of Angel's temper. For all that they reminded him of the world he had given up, he wouldn't trade that time spent alone with Buffy for anything. And this time no one could take it back or deny it ever happened.

Gunn glared at Wesley, who flushed and looked away. At last, sensing Gunn was not going to help him out, Wesley answered Angel's question.

"Yes, well, Gunn was still somewhat fatigued and I thought rather than have him drive and potentially cause harm to an innocent driver if perchance he should fall asleep behind the wheel...Gunn falling asleep, that is, not the innocent driver, although perhaps..."

"He offered to drive, I sacked out, he got lost," Gunn said succinctly.

"That was the gist of the situation," Wesley admitted, looking anywhere but at Angel. "It's not as though we expected you to be waiting, you know. We only knocked as a courtesy."

"Yeah, there was...a little confusion about the travel arrangements. Anyway it's okay, Wes. You got here." Angel patted Wesley on the shoulder, shooting Gunn a quelling glance before the youth could comment further. "You have your cell, right Wesley?" At Wesley's nod, he continued, "We're going to take off now; we'll call later and let you know how things went." He gestured for Buffy to precede him out the door.

"Be careful," Wesley warned them.

"You too," Angel called back over his shoulder as he walked out into the parking lot. Suddenly he stopped and turned around as a thought struck him. "Wes, Gunn, remember you're just supposed to be watching this guy. No contact, okay? Look but don't touch."

Gunn slapped Wesley's back in a forceful display of camaraderie. "Hey, we'll be cool, but what about you? Cordelia filled me in on some backstory when I picked up the re-charger for the phone. Right back at you with the 'you too,' pal."

* * * * *

"Where is she?"

Riley paced back and forth; ten steps to the right, then steps to the left. His body moved with the precision drilled into him during basic training, while his mind occupied a whole different reality.

Where was Buffy? What was taking her so long? It was galling having to wait to be rescued like this, but there was nothing else he could do. He'd been waiting for hours, days even, and still she didn't come. What could have happened to her? Fight or no fight, she was the Slayer and it was her job to rescue him. Now.

So where was she?

* * * * *

It was a long, and fairly quiet drive back to Sunnydale. They made a brief stop at Angel's new digs in LA to get a few reference books, and then they were back on the road. Buffy drove, while Angel researched and muttered half-forgotten prayers from his childhood every time he looked up from a book to witness her driving.

After seeing Angel's new home, and those he shared it with, Buffy was brimming with questions about his life in LA, but the morning had taught her that every word brought them closer to the things they could never have. Curiosity warred with caution, but eventually the silence between them grew too great. She had to know.

"Those kids, the slayer-wannabees, they really live with you?"

Angel looked up from his current reading material, and tried not to notice how closely they were following the very large truck in front of them.

"I don't know if I'd call it living with me. It's a big hotel."

"Not to be nosy, but why? I mean, why did you ask them to move in?"

It hadn't surprised to see the size and grandeur of Angel's new home; the mansion hadn't exactly been a little thatched cottage either. Learning that Wesley and Gunn lived there hadn't been much of a shocker either; she could see the bonds between the three men even if they were hesitant to admit them. What had surprised her were the teenage boys and girls roaming the corridors. Gunn's gang, Angel had explained, and then he told her of their demon-hunting efforts.

What he hadn't told her, but she had seen for herself, was Angel's role in their lives. Even in the brief time Buffy spent at the hotel, she had seen quite clearly how he looked out for them, and how they in turn watched out for him. Solitary, isolated Angel was an integral part of these kids' lives, and he obviously enjoyed it. He seemed to be almost a big brother to them...or a dad.

She stole a glance at Angel; he looked genuinely puzzled by her question. He shrugged his shoulders and tried not to wince when he felt the passenger side tires momentarily bump off the pavement and onto the grass. Once again, Angel was devoutly grateful he had insisted on taking the back roads. The thought of Buffy driving on a highway was enough to bring the strongest vampire to his knees.

"Angel, why?" she repeated.

"They were homeless," he said simply. "I've been there myself. So have you, for that matter."

"Well, yeah, but when I ran away I got a job so I could have a place to live." She smiled weakly at him, hoping he would not be offended on behalf of his young charges.

"They have jobs, the same one you and I do. They fight demons." Angel sighed and looked back down at the book in his lap. "Right now I wish I could get at least some of them back in school, but it's hard enough keeping them alive from one day to the next."

She took one hand off the steering wheel and rested it gently on the back of his hand. He turned over his hand and clasped hers within it.

"You would have made a great dad," she said softly.

She wished the words away the instant she said them; the brief smile on his face was not worth the world of hurt she saw flash through his eyes as he envisioned all that might have been.

He looked down at the small, strong hand resting comfortingly in his and tried to shrug it off. "There's probably more to it than just keeping them breathing."

After that, Buffy tried to keep her mind, and her conversation, centered on business, but it was a strain. It was almost with gratitude that she finally saw the outlines of her mother's white porch take shape under the streetlights. She had been expecting to see it at a little closer proximity, however; there were a large number of cars crowding both sides of the street.

"Oh swell, I forgot Mom's party." She slapped her hand to her forehead as she and Angel climbed out of the car. "Big show opening tomorrow at the gallery, so she's throwing an informal party for all the artists."

"Do you need to put in an appearance?" Angel had no intention of joining her unless she insisted; he could think of few things he would enjoy less than the disgust on Joyce Summers' face when she spied her daughter once again in the company of her vampire lover.

Buffy eyed the array of cars doubtfully. "I probably should, but I really don't have the patience to deal right now."

"Guess it's back to the window for both of us then." Angel started across the street, heading for the tree next to her bedroom window. He glanced back when he realized she wasn't beside him. "Buffy?"

She started in surprise. "Umm, yeah, I'm coming."

She forced herself to cross the street, trying not to dwell on the familiarity of this venture. This was just a temporary alliance; that's all it could be. Still, she couldn't suppress the shiver of delight she felt when she scrambled in her open window and saw Angel's dark head appear behind her.

He stayed close to the window, fearful of intruding. He glanced around Buffy's old room and noticed that very little had changed. Intellectually he knew it had been a year since she'd lived here full-time, but somehow it seemed that time was drawn back for just this instant. He could almost pretend the past year had never happened, that there had been no separation, no loneliness, no soul-deep sorrow.

The keyword here being 'almost.'

"Seems like old time, huh?" Buffy asked with a hesitant smile. "I'm just gonna...I need to call Spike. Oh, wait." She firmly pushed the bedroom door closed. "Wouldn't want Mom or Dawn to walk in," she explained as she nervously patted the door. "We don't really have time to go to the land of creative yet incredibly phony explanations."

"Who's Dawn?"

"Boy, how soon they forget. My little sister, silly." She picked up the phone from the nightstand.

Angel looked thoroughly confused. "Buffy, you don't have a sister."

"Yeah, don't I wish," she groaned. "When we were in LA I could almost pretend she doesn't exist, but here we are back in good old Sunnydale. Enter the demon spawn." She winced when she realized what she had said. "Ooh, sorry."

"Buffy..."

"Angel, can you get some weapons from my trunk?" she interrupted him. "You know my favorites." She turned her back to him as she started to dial.

Angel started to ask another question about the mysterious Dawn, and then he thought better of it. She must be a new stepsister or foster sister that Giles forgot to mention, and Buffy didn't seem to like talking about her either. Hence, as his beloved would say, the serious lack of mention.

That settled satisfactorily in his mind, he knelt down and opened her trunk, trying not to look at any of her personal items stored there. He removed the lower shelf to reveal the hidden cache of gleaming weapons and sifted through them one by one, deciding which would be the most effective for the situation.

Buffy's conversation with Spike was brief and businesslike, until Angel's name was mentioned.

"Yes, I said Angel was going to help me, not that it's any of your business anyway. Do you think I'd trust you to help me? I don't have that kind of money."

Spike laughed softly. Humans were so predictable, and for all their superpowers, Buffy and Angel were human to the nth degree.

"You're actually going to risk Sweet Soul Boy to rescue the Rambo-reject? You really are set on proving you're over him, aren't you, ducks?"

"I don't have time for this, Spike," she retorted. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the phone, nearly shattering the instrument despite her efforts to restrain her strength. "You don't understand anything about this, so just back off."

"So typical, Slayer. You're so busy trying to show the world that you love the Commando of the Corn instead of Angel, you can't see what the final act will be." Spike's voice went up a few notches to a falsetto. "Oh look, Joyce! Isn't Buffy so happy now with a normal boyfriend? Isn't he so tall and blond and...human?" His voice fell to its normal register. "Doesn't Angel fit so well into that urn on the mantel? And to think you were mad at me for using his blood to heal Dru. At least when I used him for a sacrificial lamb it was out of love, not the creeping guilts."

Buffy finally lost control of the muscles in her hand and crushed the phone before she even knew what she was doing. She stared at the shattered bits of wiring and plastic scattered across the carpet.

"He can't even see his own reflection," she muttered. "How the hell can he see inside me so well?" A moment later she felt Angel's gentle touch on her arm, and her heart contracted as she looked up into his apprehensive face.

"Buffy, what did he say? Is it...it's not too late, is it?"

He was worried about Riley; she could see the genuine concern shining from the depths of his dark eyes. As much as it hurt him to see her move on with her life without him, and with Riley, Angel was still worried about Riley's safety.

She reached up to caress his cheek one last time. Without thinking he turned his face to kiss her palm. She smiled as she traced the edge of his lower lip with her thumb.

"Everything's fine," she reassured him softly. "Spike is just being Spike. And now I'm going to be Buffy and take care of this myself." She dropped her hand from his face, but he caught her arm on the way down and held her fast.

"What are you talking about? We're going together."

"No." Her voice was gentle, but firm. "I never should have come to you for help, not about this anyway. This is my problem and I'll deal."

"You are not going anywhere without me," he insisted. "We're in this together, for better or for worse." He stopped as the next natural phrase in that progression slipped into his mind.

She shook her head. "No. I won't sacrifice you to save him. You can't make me." She remembered too well the anguish she felt the last time she put Angel's welfare behind another cause. Never again, she silently vowed.

"I can take care of myself. I'm not exactly a blood of the lamb type, unless you count Easter dinner." He was hoping for a smile, but her sad expression remained unchanged. He tried again. "Buffy, I know how hard it must have been for you to come to me for help. I can understand you're having second thoughts now because you feel guilty. Don't. I'm right where I want to be." Beside you, his heart continued without benefit of voice.

"Well duh on the guilt factor, but it's not what you think." Buffy looked away, staring fixedly at her open slayer trunk. She'd forgotten when she sent Angel into it that she had tucked away all her mementoes of him in there. It must have hurt him terribly to see their time together neatly boxed up and labeled, yet he didn't say a word. Typical Angel.

"Tell me." He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at her impassively. He obviously had no plans on moving any time in the next century unless she opened up to him.

"I have to go," she insisted.

"You are not going without me, so take 5 minutes and talk to me."

"I don't feel guilty about asking you for help," she said after a moment's stubborn silence.

He said nothing, just continued to stare at her.

"Well, okay, maybe I sort of do, but that's not where the hair halter-top comes in." She dropped her eyes and looked away. "I just...I feel guilty because I shouldn't feel guilty. I should be able to go to you for help like an old friend, but all I can think is that I'm putting you in danger for something that's all my fault." Her words tumbled together as she struggled to get them out before she lost her nerve. "And I'm not giving you up to save the world or anything else again, been there done that, so no way. But that's really what I'm asking you because none of this is your fault, again and I'm asking you to take the fall." She paused for a breath, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction to the semi-truth and nothing but the semi-truth.

"You love him." Angel said it quietly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for them to be discussing. "You will do what you have to do to save him because of that, and so will I."

Suddenly his father's voice whispered in his ear, stirring up too easily roused insecurities.

"Unless you don't trust me to help you."

For the first time Buffy could clearly see the damage her pride had caused. The semi-truth would no longer be enough. She almost howled in frustration; this would only make things worse, and yet she had no choice.

"God, Angel, that is so not it," she said passionately. "I trust you. I trust you with everything; that's not even a question. But why is everyone so sure I love Riley? Did I ever say it? I don't love him, okay. I don't," she repeated emphatically. "I never told him I did, I never even really said it to you, I just hinted to get you mad. Like when I said I didn't trust you." Buffy took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Now was not the time for uncontrolled emotions.

"But it was never fair to him," she continued more slowly, "because he does love me, and I never gave him a chance. I think the 'love of my life' section of a person's heart is only big enough for one...and that spot was taken."

She hung her head, unable to look at Angel while she confessed her deepest sins. "But he wouldn't believe that, so he followed me on patrol, and I got mad and told him we were through, and then I left him alone. In a cemetery. At night. In Sunnydale."

His hand slid under her chin and tilted her face up to confront his own. "You are not responsible for protecting every one every minute, Buffy," he insisted. "I realize Riley is human, and he doesn't have access to the type of weapons he's used to anymore, but he's hunted enough demons in this town to know when to go home and live to fight another day. If the Belos found him, it was because of plain stubbornness on Riley's part, or maybe just bad luck. It does happen, you know, even in Sunnydale."

Buffy reached up and caught his hand in both of hers. As she pulled Angel's hand over to kiss his fingers she felt his claddagh ring scrape her cheek. The heart was still pointed inward; she had looked. For an instant she closed her eyes, lost in the memory of a night long ago, when she first learned what this ring meant to him. Tonight, as on that night, she gently kissed the ring and sealed an unspoken promise.

Always.

"What...what did you mean when you said you told Riley you were through?" Angel's voice was soft as he asked his question; he wasn't really sure if he hoped she could hear him. Regardless of her situation with Riley, there was still no way for he and Buffy to be together. He resolutely put all thoughts of eventual shansu from his mind. He needed to be realistic now.

Buffy released his hand and stepped back a few paces to sit on the corner of the bed. After a moment Angel joined her, sitting on the opposite corner.

"I broke up with him. It was all a big fake anyway." She looked down at her hands, thinking of Angel's ring and her own lost mate to it. "I just wanted to be with somebody, anybody, and he was the first body that came along."

"I can't believe that. Maybe it wasn't love but...you seemed to care about him." The words were wrung from Angel; he didn't want her caring about any man but him. No matter what his rational mind told him was right, his heart believed differently, and it would never let go of the dream.

Buffy shook her head, still not meeting Angel's eyes. "I'm not even sure I liked him. I mean, don't you have to know someone to like them?"

"It helps."

She sighed and searched for a way to make him understand, or rather acknowledge, her lack of relationship with Riley. "Angel, what have we been doing all day?"

"Talking," he replied with a puzzled frown. "Why? Do you call it something different now that you're in college?"

"We talked, right. We talked about all sorts of stuff. And for all the things you said, there were thousand of things you didn't say that I heard anyway. You didn't need to say them, because I know you." She stared at the floor as she painfully finished her confession. "Riley and I never really talked about anything that mattered. It was all about work or classes or what movie to go see. I never wanted to hear more than that. But even if I did nothing but talk to him for the next hundred years, I still wouldn't know his soul like I know...He's a stranger to me; I realized that when he came back from Iowa. And he never knew the real me at all because I never let him."

"Two months is a long time apart," Angel persisted. "It's bound to create distance." He tried to stamp out the little voice that was cheering inside of him. She never loved Riley. She didn't even like him.

She looked at him at last, capturing him with her somber intensity. "Can time really do that? Make strangers of people who are truly in love? I kind of think if the bond is real, nothing will destroy it. Not time, or distance or even a bagful of never-gonna-happens."

Too much, she said too much. She sprang to her feet before Angel could respond.

"I have to go," she said quickly. "Just I, I mean me, or maybe I do mean I. I don't know. It's not like this is my native language or anything." She nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she babbled. "Solo is what I'm trying to say. No Kamikaze Boy on drums."

Angel caught her hand in his. "Buffy..." he began urgently.

She pulled her hand away. She couldn't deal with this now; it was too much for her ravaged emotions to encompass. Angel here, in her room, just like the old days that could never be the days that were to come.

"I don't want you with me tonight," she said desperately. "I want you to go back to LA and enjoy the new life you're building with the Lost Boys in that crazy old hotel. Whatever happens tonight, I want to know you're safe."

"You need back-up."

"I need you to be safe," she insisted, struggling for control. "I didn't realize at first what I was asking you to risk. But then I saw you humoring Cordelia and making Wesley feel better about himself and joking with Gunn. I want that for you. I want to think of you as part of a family; just the way you always wanted. You deserve that." Buffy looked at him with tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "Please don't come with me," she whispered.

* * * * *

They made their way slowly across the park towards the large abandoned wooden-frame structure on the edge of the lake. Despite all of Buffy's begging, pleading and out-and-out threatening, Angel was still resolutely by her side. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful or furious, but eventually she was forced to admit she couldn't out-stubborn a vampire; he had immortality on his side.

"This place has been empty for years, but Willow once told me it was a dancehall in the 20s and 30s," Buffy said softly. "Then during the World War II they used it as a canteen." She glanced over at Angel. "That's where they entertained soldiers on leave. Dancing, pretty girls serving coffee and tea, that sort of stuff," she explained.

Angel smiled grimly. "I know, Buffy. I was there, remember?"

"Well, I figured that was during your blue period. No dancing, no funny party hats, no fun of any kind, actually. Am I wrong?" she challenged him.

"Just because I didn't get out much doesn't mean..." he began hotly. He stopped when he saw the smirk on her face. "Okay, you're right, but I didn't live under a rock, either. I knew what was going on, I just wasn't a part of it."

"Like the boy in the plastic bubble," she said wistfully. "Always looking out on what you can't touch or have."

He said nothing, because there was nothing to say. She knew him so well, and she felt the pain even as he did, maybe more so. Words could never heal these wounds.

"Do you want to try the front or the back?" Buffy asked after a few moments of silence. They were now within twenty feet of the side of the seemingly deserted building. Time to talk serious battle plans.

"Your call. Spike's sources just said Riley was here; no details on where in the building he was being kept, or where the Belos set up living quarters. Either way we could be walking head on into the lion's mouth."

Buffy sighed. Actually wailing on demons was so much easier than stalking and surprising them. After all Giles', and Angel's, tireless tactical training, she still preferred the simplicity of hand-to-fang combat immediately upon rising.

"Okay, front door it is. Hey, we're traveling in a pair; maybe they'll think we're trying to fill up the pews on Sunday morning," she said mockingly.

Angel frowned and sniffed the air suspiciously. "I don't think these guys are the church-going type," he said after a moment. "Buffy, I'm getting the strangest sensation of..."

"Vampires," she finished for him. "I know; I can sense them too. But what's so weird about vamps in Sunnydale? I mean, they've been a little scarce the past year, but maybe they were on tour or something." She gripped her crossbow firmly and felt for the dagger she had tucked in her belt.

"From what I read about Belos demons, they don't seem the type to hang with vampires. They're kind of into the lone wolf image; they don't even like to be seen with other Belos."

"Well, maybe this guy is a rebel. You know, partying with the outcasts and drinking too much witches bane and..." She glanced up at him with a mischievous smile, but she felt it waver when she saw the somber expression on his pale face. "Hey, if he has vamps as back-up, we're a shoo-in," she said softly, laying her free hand lightly on his arm. "They're kind of what I kill best. Present company excepted, of course."

He smiled down at her, and opened his mouth to reply.

"Well it's about time you got here," came a voice from behind.

Buffy and Angel both whirled around, weapons at the ready, but before either could fire on their lone opponent he was no longer lone. Vampires poured out from the surrounding bushes and from inside the building.

"So much for the element of surprise," Buffy grumbled. "Guess my vamp alert button got the snooze treatment a little too much last year." She glanced over at Angel. "Do we try to take them out now and go in with guns blazing or..."

"Or," he replied before she finished her question. "Definitely or."

"Okay boys, take me to your leader," she sighed, raising her hands just slightly in a demonstration of temporary surrender.

* * * * *

The former dancehall was suddenly ablaze with lights. Strings of tiny Christmas tree lights were twined around the support beams, and everywhere there were candles being lit by various vampire minions who were no longer needed to restrain the captives. Buffy and Angel had submitted calmly, biding their time for an opportunity to strike. This left the vampires free to set the stage.

Buffy, Angel, and the remainder of their demonic entourage slowly crossed the wooden floor to stand dead center on the old dance floor. The vampire guards stayed uncomfortably close at hand, three per prisoner. Four of them were for physical restraint, while the other two pointed a gun at Buffy's temple and her own crossbow at Angel's heart. It was a fairly effective method of confinement, at least until the warriors could scope out the battlefield.

Angel glanced quickly around the dancehall, looking for exits and hiding places. He knew that Buffy was doing the same, and hoped she was coming up with some more reassuring answers than he was. All the entrances save the one they had been dragged through appeared to have been boarded over several times. Worse yet, the loft above the bandstand would seem to make an excellent hiding place for back-up troops.

"Wonderful. It's been so long, my love, but we're finally together again."

The voice was very smooth, and most definitely feminine. It was also terrifyingly familiar, but there was no way it could be real. She had been dust for four years now; dead by Angel's own hand.

"Darla," Buffy said flatly. "Long time no see."

"You don't seem surprised," Darla pouted as she slowly descended the staircase from the loft at the far end of the hall. "I had counted on a more...dramatic...reaction. Like that," she said, pointing at the dumbstruck Angel.

"Five years ago I didn't even know vampires existed. Now, I can safely say very little surprises me. Except for the crowds in the mall at the crack of dawn the day after Thanksgiving. That one gets me every time." Buffy shrugged her shoulders and stole a glance at the slowly recovering Angel.

"You were dust. I saw you turn to dust," he said with great deliberation. "I staked you myself."

"Oh, don't think I've forgotten that, dear boy." Darla waved her finger sternly at Angel as she approached him. "You killed me, just as she killed you. I think we all have some issues to work through, and I intend to do just that. One delicious and torment-filled moment at a time."

"Okay, I know we've all been burned at the altar of love," Buffy groaned, "but I think there's a lot to be said for the phrase 'get over it.' He dumped you decades ago; I got dumped last year. Mine is the pain that counts, and if I don't get the wallow time, why should you?"

"You humans think everything revolves around your pain, your happiness." Darla veered away from her slow stalk towards Angel and approached Buffy instead. "I made Angelus from a drunken bed-happy Irishman; I named him and I gave him life, and yet you dared lay claim to him. You killed the Angelus that I created, and then you killed the Angel that you created. You destroyed what was mine, and you will answer for it."

She stood directly in front of the Slayer, hands slowly rising from her sides, ready to demonstrate the depths of her rage.

"But I was the one who killed you, Darla," Angel swiftly pointed out. He risked a quick look at Buffy, and saw her temper was rising as fast as Darla's. She needed to calm down and plan their attack before she said something rash, and potentially fatal.

"Yes, but you did it for her. You are here tonight because of her. Everything you have done since the moment you laid eyes on her has been in her name."

Angel breathed the tiniest sigh of relief; Darla's hands were once again at her side, and she seemed temporarily diverted from Buffy's past transgressions. At least if she tried to throttle him for his sins, he could survive without the air while Buffy plotted their escape.

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said with forcibly assumed calm. "Angelus had a little run outside the pen again, and I hardly think he was operating out of love."

"I heard about your return, my sweet," she cooed, running her hand slowly down his throat and along his chest. She smiled as he instinctively shrank from her touch, only to be stopped by the tip of the crossbow bolt in his back. "You killed and tortured just as I taught you. How I wish I had been there." Her hand swiftly moved back up his body to seize him by the throat. "Been there to see you do it all to gain her attention," she snapped. "Demon or human, she's all that you see."

"He didn't come here for me, Darla," Buffy said desperately. "I made him come. I needed help to rescue someone, and that's what he does now. It may gross you out, but he's here just to be nice."

Every instinct in her body was urging her to lunge at Darla and hurl her away from Angel, but the crossbow aimed at his heart kept her feet nailed to the floor. Logically she knew he didn't need the air Darla was depriving him of, but logic had nothing to do with the pain in her heart from once again being unable to protect him.

Darla released Angel and turned away, a small triumphant smile on her face. She slowly walked over to stand beneath the loft.

"Oh yes, the rescue mission," she drawled. "Poor Buffy, you just can't seem to keep your men from wandering off into the night, can you? Let's see, this one's name is Riley, am I right?"

She didn't wait for an answer before she clapped her hands and called up the staircase.

"You can come down now children. Mother needs you to help entertain our guests."

Buffy and Angel shared a swift puzzled glance before they each looked upwards, to the loft. Step by step Darla's children came into view, their path taking them down the stairs and along the edge of the dance floor to stand on either side of Darla in front of the bandstand.

Riley on her left; Tara on her right.

-To Be Continued-