Anam Cara

Part 13

By Gem

"Oh good, then we're not too late."

Joyce's words hung in the still air.  Uneasy, and in some cases rather angry glances passed among the Scoobies as Buffy stared at the woman who had raised her for the past 19 years, and yet didn't seem to know her at all.

"Excuse me," the Slayer said sharply. "Just how do you define 'too late'?  Because if you mean too late to see me do the smartest thing I've ever done, that would be a 'no'."  She took a few measured steps towards her mother, as the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.  "But if you mean you're not too late to keep me from spending the rest of my life with the guy that I love, that would be a very, very big misuse of the phrase."

"Buffy, don't," Angel said quietly.  "Whatever she says, it's not worth fighting a war over." 

He gazed at Joyce with a calm he could not have imagined even one short year ago.  Once upon a time he had looked to her to be as much his family as Buffy's, hoping she would fill a void in his life that the death of his own family had created.  He didn't need that from her anymore, though.  He had a family again, and one she could not touch or tarnish.

"I'm not fighting," Buffy protested, hands raised in a show of innocence.  "I'm making sure we all know where we stand.  And where I stand," she continued, returning to his side, "is with you."

"Maybe I phrased this the wrong way," Joyce said patiently.  She walked slowly into the apartment, Giles and Hank following close behind, until they reached the center of the living room.  "I was trying to say I was glad we got here before you accepted Angel's proposal because..." she paused.  "You are going to accept, I assume."

"Well that's a stupid question," Anya said, casting a pitying glance at Joyce. 

"Anya," Xander pleaded, "later, honey; okay?"

"But..."

"Later," he said firmly.  After a moment of steadfast resolution, he melted under her imperious gaze.  "Please," he added with the tiniest of whines.

"I'm not the one embarrassing myself asking stupid questions, but fine.  I'll be quiet."  With a loud sigh to show how hard this being quiet business really was on a girl, Anya subsided.

"Yes Mom, I was in the middle of accepting," Buffy said.  She squeezed Angel's hand as she glanced up at him.  "Though I kind of wish Angel had been the first to hear it."

"Doesn't matter," he murmured.  "I'm thinking a little rooftop shouting is in order myself."  He quirked a self-deprecating grin.  "After dark, of course."

"Now that's what I wanted to talk about," Joyce jumped in.  "I mean, that's what we," she gestured to Hank and Giles, "wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh no, Joyce, this was your big idea," Hank protested.  "I went along with it, sure.  But you're the one who thought of it, and Buffy should know that."

"Yes, quite," Giles added.  "I too can claim no credit for this plan, at least not for its inception.  I only aided in the execution."

Buffy glanced from father to surrogate father, trying to decide whose betrayal hurt her more.  Hank's recent ordeal with Drusilla could explain his turncoat colors, and she knew Giles had never forgotten Jenny Calender or who brought about her death.  Still, she had believed the two men were willing to forgive, if not forget, in the name of future harmony.

"Looks like your fellow rats jumped ship, Mom.  Time to start doggie-paddling solo."  She didn't bother to hide the bitterness from her voice; this was a blow she had not been expecting.

"Buffy," her mother reproached her. "You shouldn't speak that way about your father and Rupert.  No matter what they say, they both did a great deal to help me with this."

"That's not the best way to convince me they're still using the Force for good and not evil."

"Joyce, why don't you just show her, and then tell her," Hank suggested.  "She's getting the wrong idea."  He sidled over to the sofa, where Cordelia had reclaimed her seat.  A raised eyebrow indicated she should consider yielding her place to an older, and injured, man, but the gesture could not make a dent in her armor.  He resigned himself to perching uncomfortably on the back corner.

"I found something the other day, out on the front lawn," Joyce began.  She reached into her pocket, but did not withdraw her hand.  "I wasn't sure what to do with it at first, so I didn't say anything to anyone.  Later I talked to your dad."  She shot a quick glance back at Hank and smiled ruefully.  "I didn't exactly like what he had to say, mostly because I knew he was right."

"She's always hated that about me," Hank confided loudly.

"After we agreed on what to do, I called Rupert and he helped us put it together.  I guess I should say he found us someone to put it together."

"It was nothing, really," Giles demurred.  "I've kept in touch with some of Jenny's friends; they have proven a valuable resource for spells and such.  One of them is a professor of anthropology at UCLA who makes jewelry on the side.  Nothing too expensive, you understand, and she doesn't have a shop yet, only a stall at festivals and such."  He tapped his chin and continued to muse out loud, oblivious to any and all signs of impatience in his audience.  "Actually, I've been thinking of displaying some of her work at the store.  She's really quite good and..."

"...and yet so very not the point right now," Cordelia finished for him.  "What has she done for us lately?"  The actress in her winced at the all-too familiar phrase. 

"She made this.  I hope it fits, but if not...well, we'll get it sized."  Joyce slowly pulled her hand out of her pocket, clutching a gold ring between her thumb and forefinger.  "I wanted...that is we wanted to give this to you Angel, before you and Buffy made any formal plans.  So that you would know we weren't offering it just for her sake."

Buffy and Angel leaned closer to inspect the ring. The gold was smooth and unblemished, as though freshly minted, yet it gave off an inexplicable aura of great age. Around the crest of the ring, tiny leaves were carefully etched and darkened, forming an oval frame for the stone at its heart, a pale green stone that caught the light and refracted it back onto Joyce's hand.

"It looks like...well, sort of like..."  Buffy glanced up at Angel and then over at her mother.  "Don't you think it looks like..."

"The Gem of Amara," Angel agreed.  He looked steadily at Joyce, showing none of the thousand emotions raging through him.  "You found this after Dru died?"

She nodded, holding the ring slightly away from her body.  "It was on the lawn, along with the gold necklace it fell out of.  I took the stone first, and then after I talked to Hank I went back for the gold.  We thought it might be better to use that metal to make the ring, just in case the magick wasn't only in the stone."

"Mr. Giles found us the jeweler, and helped her design the ring," Hank added.  "She took the rest of the gold as payment, which worked out well for all of us."  He glanced around the room.  "What would I do with enchanted gold, I ask you?"

"Why?" Angel asked quietly, his eyes boring deep into her soul.

Joyce drew a deep breath; this was where it was going to get messy. 

"I don't want you to get the wrong idea.  I still think Buffy is too young to commit herself to anyone, and I still wish she would give up her Slaying, or at least cut back.  And I know she won't while you two are together."  She saw Buffy's mouth open and hurried to finish her thought.  "But Rupert has convinced me that Buffy would be the Slayer with or without Angel, and she's probably safer with him, even if she is more active about it.  And Hank has made me take another look at my little girl, who isn't quite so little as I thought."

"She's not tall," Anya said flatly.  "That's why she wears high heeled shoes so much; to give the illusion of greater height."  She studiously ignored Xander's 'shush' gesture.  "In the old days we had to stand on carriage boxes, but that looks silly unless you're wearing a long skirt...and you have a carriage."

"I've, uh, been so focused on your growing up, I guess I never noticed I had some of my own to do," Joyce admitted, not even hearing Anya's running commentary.  "Somehow I thought I was supposed to be past that stage, but apparently not."

"It's a never-ending battle," Angel said softly.  "And it's the hardest thing in the world to keep on doing.  You change your opinions, your beliefs, your priorities; lose old friends, and old ideals along the way, and it's still not enough.  In the end you have to be willing to give up all that you are, so that you can start becoming a fraction of what you're meant to be."

She pursed her lips and stared at the vampire silently for a moment.  "So what you're telling me is that this is not going to end anytime soon."

A disarming smile flickered across his pale face, giving Joyce a glimpse of the beauty her daughter found in this man's soul. 

"Sorry.  Two and a half centuries and I'm still waiting for the butterfly moment."

Joyce sighed, sounding uncannily like her daughter to Angel's slightly biased ears.

"Not what I wanted to hear," she said.

 "Mom, you're really okay with Angel and I being together?"  Buffy didn't like to disturb this unexpected rapprochement between her mother and her lover, but there were details as yet to be nailed down.  "I mean...that's what the whole ring deal is about, right?"

"Yes, that is what it's about." Joyce returned her focus to her daughter.  "I've always wanted the best for you, honey.  I wanted you to be happy and fulfilled, and I still do.  I just pictured it coming to you from your family and your career instead of…"

"My family and my career."  Buffy squeezed Angel's hand again and smiled to soften her next words.  "It's still the same picture, Mom; it's just me in it this time instead of a you-clone." 

"At any rate, I can't change much about the situation.  This is what you want, and I have to respect that.  But at least I can make it a little easier."  Joyce nodded at the ring.  "This won't solve the many differences between you, and maybe you don't want them solved; I've given up trying to figure out your relationship.  But now I know that if you're out all night prowling around cemeteries, it's not because you can't do anything but sleep all day."

"Like that's all they do all day," Anya sniffed.

"This was very generous of you."  Angel looked at her gravely.  "It was generous of all of you," he included Hank and Giles with a nod, "but especially you, Joyce.  Thank you."

"Yes, thank you so much," Buffy echoed fervently.  "And about that, umm, rat comment?"  She winced.  "Really, really didn't mean that.  It was just...habit."

"That's okay, honey," her father comforted her.  "I've been called a lot worse things than a rat.  Some of them I suspect your mother made up just for me."

"Hank, shush.  And Angel, please take it."  Joyce held her hand out a little stiffly, but willingly.  "You can open a window and try it on your hand first, just to make sure the spell stuck."

"The spell is perfectly fine," Giles sniffed.  "I read it over myself before Emma did the incantation, and it was exceedingly well-composed.  And even grammatically correct, which is something you rarely find in spells these days."

"Ooh, Giles' got a girlfriend," Xander chanted.  "Giles' got a...ow!"  He turned to glare at Anya.  "What was that for?"

She returned his gaze evenly.  "That was not a well-composed incantation.  It would seem to encourage romance, and yet it only creates hostility.  And it is not grammatically correct."

"Thank you, Anya," Giles said, a strange feeling of gratitude washing over him.

"And why do you get to talk if I don't?" Anya continued.

"Hey, not to be the wet blanket of reason here," Cordelia broke in, "but aren't you just setting Angel up as Public Vampire Number One with this thing?"  She leaned forward in her seat and gestured to the ring.  "I mean Spike was certainly the eager beaver when it came to the last Gem of Amara.  What's to keep every vamp in town from going on an Angel-hunt once the word gets out at Willie's?"

Buffy cast a frantic glance at Angel, nightmarish visions filtering through her mind with lightning speed.  Before she could voice her fears, however, she noticed her beloved's calm smile.

"There's not really a big market for jewelry that just creates a tan line," he said.  "Spike wanted the other Amara stone for the chance to be invincible.  Even if anyone finds out I have this one, they won't be interested once they see I can still bleed."

"Not liking the show-and-tell aspect," Buffy grumbled, "but I guess you're right."

Angel gently squeezed Buffy's hand, and then released her as he accepted the ring from Joyce's trembling fingers.  After all the nights he had agonized over the destruction of the Gem of Amara, it had at last found its way back to him.  Not the whole stone, with its promise of invulnerability and vast power; he would have no use for such a stone.  This was the only part of the gem he had ever regretted losing, and he regretted it for the sake of the woman standing beside him.  Now, at last, he could offer her back a small portion of the life she was abandoning to be with him.

Suddenly warm fingers closed over his hand, preventing him from sliding the ring over his knuckle.

"Angel," Buffy said softly, "wait."

* * * * *

Angel gazed down at the small tanned fingers covering his pale hand.  "Buffy, what's wrong?" he asked, sliding his eyes upwards to look into her face.

"I just want to make sure we're clear on why you want this ring before we take the top off the convertible for good."

"Well that's pretty much of a 'duh,' Buff," Xander drawled.  "The man can lie on the sand scoping out babes in bikinis for years at a time and never get skin cancer.  It's like living in a Beach Boys song."

"And if that's the reason, I'm fine with it," Buffy replied evenly, never tearing her eyes away form her beloved's.  "Except for the babes in bikinis part, of course. But what I don't want is him taking it just for me, to give me something everyone else tells him I need."

"Princess, we wanted to give you a chance at an easier life," Hank explained.  "Both of you."

Buffy finally looked away from Angel's puzzled face to her father's.  "Do you mean easier or 'normal', Dad?  Because I finally realized I've already had all the 'normal life' I can handle."  She began to tick off items on her fingers.  "Divorced parents; definitely of the norm these days.  I was a cheerleader, the classic high school experience for a girl, right?  Except of course for that bloodstone vengeance spell that almost killed me."

"Vengeance spell?" her mother repeated, her voice becoming shriller with each syllable. She cast an angry glance at the only vengeance specialist she'd ever met.

Anya's jaw dropped when she realized Joyce's unspoken accusation, but her protest of innocence was hampered at the last minute by Xander's hand tightly squeezing her own.  She read the plea to let him handle this in his eyes and closed her mouth with an audible snap, settling for an outraged sniff in her own defense.

"That was Amy's mom," Cordelia explained, beating Xander to Anya's rescue.  She felt an unexpected jolt of sympathy for the newest addition to Joyce's hit list, but being Cordelia, she tried not to let it get the best of her.  "You remember Amy, don't you, Mrs. Summers?  She turned herself into a rat when you tried to burn her at the stake."

"Stake?"  Now it was Hank's turn to stare, but Joyce could only shrug helplessly.

"Rat?" she asked hesitantly.

"Umm, I got a tattoo too," Buffy hurried on, trying to regain control of the conversation.  "Actually Eth...someone...gave it to me.  And didn't that make a dandy bulls-eye for a demon with a body art fixation?"  A slight blush washed her cheeks with color.  "And of course there's always my classic high school girl getting drunk at a frat party experience.  Can't get more normal than that...well, except for the giant demon snake."

"Is it me, or was there something really Freudian about that last one?" Oz murmured in Willow's ear.  She nodded, and motioned him to be quiet.

"And when did you get a tattoo?" Joyce demanded, recalled to her motherly duties.  "Where did you get a tattoo?"

Buffy turned back to Angel.  "I know I spent a lot of time telling everybody how much I wanted to be a 'normal girl,' and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that you didn't fit into that life.  The truth was that I didn't, and I don't want to.  I want you; that's all.  Just the way you are."

Angel slipped his hand free of hers and held the ring up before her.  "This won't change me, Buffy.  It will only give us more time to do things."

"And is that why you want it?" she asked, staring intently into his eyes.  "Angel, no matter what sweet, romantic things you say, I know you didn't give up the first one just because I wasn't there to share it with you. If that was the only reason, you could have taken the ring and been on the highway heading back to Sunnydale five minutes later."  She reached up and caressed his cheek.  "You destroyed it because you didn't feel like you earned it yet."

He couldn't lie to her.  "There were a lot of reasons, but yes, that was one of them."

"And now?" she pressed.  "Do you believe you've earned it yet?"

"I...I don't know," he admitted.  "Maybe.  Sometimes."  A deep breath washed through his lungs before he continued, "And sometimes not."

Buffy's hand slipped down his throat and around the back of his neck as she stood on tiptoe and kissed him.  He pulled her in close, forgetting both past and present in her arms.

"I do believe you've earned it," she said, nuzzling his neck after the kiss had ended.  A moment later she reluctantly pushed herself away and sank back down to her normal height.  "But what I believe isn't what matters.  And what you think I need from you isn't what matters either.  So I can't call you Angel of the morning; big deal."  Buffy shrugged her shoulders.  "I will live with you in the sunlight, or the darkness, or even under a bridge with the trolls if that's where we end up; I don't care."

"We'd have to kill the trolls," he reminded her, a slight teasing note returning to his voice.  "They make lousy neighbors."

"And worse boyfriends," Anya sighed.  She felt Xander stiffen in surprise, and raised her eyebrow at him.  "Did you think you were the first boyfriend I've had in eleven hundred years?  Even demons get lonely on a cold winter's night...especially before central heating was invented."

Buffy brought her other hand up to Angel's cheek, holding his face fast between her palms as she looked deep into his eyes.  As far as she was concerned, there was no one else in the room.

"If taking this ring will make you happy, then take it.  I just don't want you to take it for my sake, because I don't need what it can do for us.  I need us, period."

Angel thought about it for a minute.  It was true that he wanted the ring for Buffy's sake, but he also felt a strange longing for it on his own behalf.  He wasn't sure if he felt worthy of the forgiveness of the Powers that the other ring seemed to represent, but this one held a much smaller and more meaningful quality of mercy.  It was a gift from Buffy's parents, all three of them.  Whatever he had done to them, to Buffy, or to the universe at large, they were willing to grant him this much grace.

"I think...I want it for me, too," he said haltingly. 

Buffy released a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding, and let her fingers trail down his chest until she could grasp his hands. 

"Good," she said.  "Then let me be the one to put it on you."  She gazed up at him through artfully lowered lashes.  "You know, as a practice run for later."

She slipped the ring onto his second finger, and then she continued to hold him by that hand as she led him into the training room.  After a quick and silent exchange of glances, the rest of their family and friends crowded in the doorway behind them.

Buffy and Angel marched steadily across the training room to the far wall, where blackout cloths covered the only windows in the apartment.  With her free hand Buffy reached up and gently peeled away a section of the cloth.

"Ready?" she asked him, trying to suppress the quaver in her voice.

Angel nodded, not daring to speak.  What if the destruction of the necklace also damaged the spell that gave the stone its power?  What if the reworking of the gold created an entirely new power in the ring, one that would not protect him from the sun's deadly rays?

Buffy drew a deep breath and opened the window wide, clutching his hand tightly as she moved it towards the light.

"Here goes," she whispered.

Angel felt the sun's heat on his skin, and instinctively he tried to pull his hand free of Buffy's grasp.  She held fast, however, and he forced himself to relax.  She would never do anything to hurt him; he knew this.  And it seemed that the sunlight now numbered among the things that would not hurt him.  He flexed his fingers in the warmth, and watched in amazement as his pale skin slid across the bone and did not dissolve.  There was no burning sensation, no extraordinary heat or pain.  It was just...warm.

Angel laughed abruptly, switching his gaze from his amazing, non-combustible hand to his still more amazing mate.

"It works," he breathed, thrusting his other hand into the light as further proof.  "It really works."

Before Buffy could reply, he threw his arms around her and picked her up, swinging her around and around as he continued to laugh.  She started laughing too, as she clung to his neck with one arm and grabbed futilely for the blackout curtains with the other hand.

The Scoobies quickly saw what she was trying to do and hurried over to help, ripping the curtains from the walls and throwing them into a corner.  Soon the whole room was awash in the clear light of a spring afternoon.

Hank rested his hand on Joyce's shoulder as they watched their only daughter laughing in the arms of their future son-in-law.

"You did a good thing, Joyce," he said softly, nodding at Buffy's bright face. 

Buffy's mother was quiet for a moment as she watched the present joyousness and contemplated the uncertain future.  "I hope so," she said at length.  "I'm still not sure they can make it work...but I guess they deserve the same chance to try that everyone else gets."

"You never know; they may just surprise you."  Hank nodded at Giles, inviting the Englishman's support.  "Isn't that right, Mr. Giles?"

Giles smiled enigmatically. "After four years of observing wanton demonic destructiveness on an apocalyptic scale, I have come to realize that the day nothing surprises us is the day to be truly surprised." 

"Uh...huh."  Hank turned back to Joyce.  "Am I supposed to understand what that means?" he whispered.

Buffy was showing off her engagement ring to Willow, Cordelia and Anya, as their assorted boyfriends made a joke of pretending to do the same with Angel's ring.  The ensuing protest on the ladies' part instigated a large-scale towel-snapping fight with the blackout curtains used as weapons.  The laughing insults and shouts of triumph almost drowned out Joyce's reply.

"I don't understand any of it, Hank, except that she looks happy."  Happy surrounded by demons and half-demons and ex-demons and would-be demon hunters, but undeniably happy; Joyce shook her head at the conundrum.  "I guess that's all the understanding this mom can hope for."  She paused for a beat.  "I still want to know more about that tattoo business, though."

* * * * *

Hank settled more comfortably on the sofa cushion Cordelia had graciously fluffed for him. Once she was certain he was on the 'right' side, Angel's assistant had been quite solicitous of his comfort, to the point of making him nervous.

"Are you sure we can't persuade you to stay just a little longer, sweetie?" he asked Buffy, setting down the glass of juice he had been literally forced to accept.

His daughter was beaming as she bustled around cleaning up the debris of several days' occupation, but there was no mistaking her firm headshake for assent.  

"Sorry, Dad.  We've been here longer than we expected anyway, and now I just want to get home."  She smiled at Angel, watching him through the training room door as he packed up the weapons Buffy had rushed out to stock up on using Giles' new retailer's discount.  "Mostly, I want to be home when the sun rises tomorrow, and I kind of want to be alone with Angel to see it." 

Alone in the garden, at sunrise; the romantic possibilities were endless.  She glanced back at her father, who was watching her fondly. 

"It's been a long time for him," she explained with a sheepish grin.

"It's all right, Buffy. I really do understand," Hank reassured her.  "We all do."

She was enough of a daughter still to hope that he didn't, but the adult in her kept her from saying so.

"We'll go out once the sun sets, just like we planned," she said instead.  "We can celebrate you being okay, and Giles' new shop, and then the LA contingent will head home."  She cocked an eyebrow at her father.  "Unless you're not ready to leave."

Hank laughed, sensing where her mind was heading.  "No, honey; I'm not staying either.  Not if you're not.  Your mom and I have been getting along pretty well, all things considered, but..."

"But you can only consider for so long," she finished for him.  "And then someone has to do something."

He nodded somberly.  "And that something would be going home.  My life is in LA, where you are, and my job, and my home."  A smile brightened his solemn face.  "And maybe, when I'm ready, there's somebody out there who will look at me the way you look at Angel."

She impulsively gave her father a quick hug.  "I hope so, Dad."

"Me too."  Hank felt a faint, unexpected heat creep across his cheeks as he continued thinking out loud.  "To be honest, before I met...her...I was seeing someone.  Well, sort of seeing."  He laughed self-consciously, feeling the blush settle over more of his face.  "We had a few dinners, and some nice talks."

Buffy quickly abandoned her packing and sat on the arm of the sofa next to her father.  "Okay, spill.  I want details."  She held up her hand before he could speak. "Not, you know, real personal 'when she does this there, it makes me feel all tingly' sort of details that would send any self-respecting daughter howling for her therapist.  Just the basic stats:  name, place of employment, record of convictions, blood pressure."  She shrugged.  "The usual."

"Well I think you would know better than I do, actually," Hank admitted.  "You introduced me to her.  Or Angel did.  She is his friend, after all."

It took a moment for Buffy's happiness-intoxicated brain to make the connection.

"Kate?" she whispered.  "You're dating...you were dating Kate?  Lockley?"

Cordelia caught the strangled question, and Hank's pleased nod of assent, as she walked by on her way to the kitchen.  The humor of the situation was not lost on her.  Buffy's dad was dating Angel's wannabe-ex, or ex-wannabee, who was also, in Cordelia's opinion, the Ghost Of Buffy Yet to Be.  She made a token effort to hold back her snort of laughter, but the look of mingled horror and embarrassment on Buffy's face sent her over the edge.

"Gee, Buffy, I bet your new little brothers and sisters are going to be the spitting image of you."  She finally controlled her laughter, with no small difficulty, and turned a blandly smiling face to Hank.  "I think it's great you're dating Kate.  She and Buffy have a very special relationship; they just have so much in common it's almost spooky."

Buffy grimaced at Cordelia, but a few deep breaths, and the puzzled look on her father's face, brought out her better nature.  She had, after all, introduced Kate to Hank, or at least been responsible for them meeting.  She had encouraged the police officer to spend time with her father, in the hopes that Kate's good opinion of Angel would rub off.  If the end result of that time spent was a mutual affection...well, it was beyond wigworthy, but she would have to deal.

She only hoped her soon-to-hired therapist would find it amusing to learn that Buffy's father was dating a woman not only 15 years younger than he, but a future vision of his own daughter.

"Cordelia's right, Dad," she heard herself saying.  "I think it's great too."

And Jerry Springer's audience is going to love it, she continued silently as she gave her father a final hug.

* * * * *

Buffy had very specific plans for the spring evening that heralded the beginning of her new life with Angel, and the majority of them she intended to put into action in her own home in LA.  Somehow, though, the quick party to celebrate Giles' new business venture and Hank's new lease on life turned into an informal engagement party, and that created a few problems in the speedy exit department. 

She wasn't sure who suggested The Bronze as the appropriate location for the celebration; it certainly wasn't she.  But Angel seemed taken with the idea, perhaps because it was a place of mostly happy memories for them.  He wanted so badly to make this night special for her, and Buffy knew it would take her a while to convince him that the romance of his proposal had been in no way spoiled by the setting, or their audience.  And as soon as she ditched that ever-present audience, she intended to let the convincing commence.

In the meantime, however, she resigned herself to an impromptu party, and resolved to enjoy it.  Even if it required showing her parents a facet of her life previously unrevealed:  the infamous teenage hangout.

* * * * *

Xander groaned as he stretched his legs out and propped them up on what passed for a coffee table.  A chorus of protests followed his movements, as his large feet endangered the safety of several half-full plastic cups.

"Okay, okay," he said, carefully removing his offending appendages.  "Jeeze, I was just getting comfy."  He nodded to the dance floor.  "From the looks of your mom and Giles out there, we're going to be here awhile."

Buffy smiled at the sight of her staid mother and reserved Watcher dancing midst throngs of hormonal teenagers.  Despite the periodic, and inevitable, collisions with other couples, they seemed to be doing a credible job of keeping up with the music.  It reminded for an instant of the night Giles and her mother had eaten the enchanted band candy and reverted to more "youthful" behavior.

She winced; so not a stop on the Memory Lane Railway she wanted to make.

"Yeah, they seem to be having a good time," she cautiously agreed.  "I guess.  I hope my dad doesn't feel left out, though."  She turned her head, glancing around the crowded club.  "Where is he, anyway?"

"I wouldn't worry about him, Buffy."  Angel looked quietly amused as he rested a gentle hand on her arm.  "He seems to be having a good time talking to the bartender."

Xander craned his neck to see over the crowd, and let loose an appreciative whistle.  "Hey, she's quite a looker, isn't she?  Why exactly did we stop hanging out here again?"

"The old bartender," Willow said dryly.  "Bob the Beast."

"Not a literal beast, you understand," Anya hastened to assure Doyle.  "He was quite offensive, however."  She wrinkled her nose.  "He actually demanded proof of my age when I asked for a drink.  As though I would lie about my age to make myself seem older."

"Well, I don't think Dad is interested in the new bartender any more than he'd be interested in Bob," Buffy said.  "Okay, maybe a little bit more," she allowed after a moment, "but not much.  He has other fish to fry."

Willow sat up straight in her chair, casting an anxious glance at Oz as she asked, "Do we know the name and/or species this time?"

"Easy, Will.  No horned honeys for my Dad this time," Buffy quickly assured her.  "He, umm, he's interested in Kate."  She glanced at Angel as she repeated, "Kate Lockley."

"You're joking."  Mischief sparkled in Doyle's blue eyes as he, too, looked at Angel.  "And does the lady share his interest?"

Buffy shrugged, taking a sip of her drink before she answered.  "Who knows?  He told me they went to dinner a few times, and he seemed to feel it was going somewhere before...well, before Dru."

"Kate and Hank?" Angel asked weakly.  "It's kind of hard to picture, but...you know, as long as they're happy, I guess...are you sure he said Kate?"

Xander laughed at the confusion on Angel's face.  "This makes quite a kink in the family tree, doesn't it, fella?"

Cordelia snorted and shook her head.  "Let me count the ways."

"Just think of it," Xander mused with great relish.  "Old Hank is working his way through Angel's Little Black Book.  And without an immortality net, I remind you."  He raised his glass of soda high in the air.  "Two thumbs up to the little guy from LA with big dreams!"

"Good thing Darla is dead," Buffy muttered under her breath as Angel started to scowl.

"Kate and I were never anything but friends," the vampire said stiffly.  "And as for Dru...she was a lot of things to me, but nothing like you're thinking."

Now it was Buffy's turn to look confused.  "Angel, sweetie," she began slowly, "every couple has to deal with past relationships, and when one of the couple has been around for two plus centuries...well, that's a lot of past.  And I'm okay with that," she continued, resting her hand over Angel's on her arm.  "I really am.  So you don't need to make up pretty stories to save my feelings.  I, uh, kind of knew you weren't a virgin when we met."

"Buffy, I'm not lying, or trying to spare your feelings."  He shifted on the sofa so that he faced her, taking both of her hands in his own as he looked into her eyes.  "Dru and I were never lovers.  Ever." 

It wasn't so much the incredulity on Buffy's face that prompted him to explain further; it was the derisive hoot that burst from Xander's mouth as Cordelia triumphantly exclaimed, "Told you so.  Pay up!"

"I've spent all this time telling you guys how I felt like she was my child, and you think I'd sleep with her?  I know my demon is vicious and sadistic, but that...that's just plain sick."  He swiveled his head to address his next question to Cordelia.  "And while I'm flattered that you believe me, Cordy, I'd like to know why you were so sure already."

"She's a brunette."  Cordelia shrugged her slim shoulders as though the answer was beyond obvious.  "You showed zero interest in me when we met, which was before you and Buffy got all star-crossed lovery, so it was obvious you have a blonde fixation."

Angel nodded slowly, respecting the consistency of her thought processes, if not their validity. 

"As a matter of fact I don't, but I'm glad at least you believe me."  He glanced at the others.  "Apparently to the point of staking money on it."

"It was a long time ago.  I'd actually forgotten about it until Xander brought this whole thing up."  She pointedly looked from Xander to Willow to Oz.  "And now some people owe me five bucks for my amazing insight into your character."

Buffy had at last recovered her power of speech.  "Why didn't you ever tell me she wasn't an ex?"  She clenched her hands into fists within the confines of his grasp.  "Did you think it didn't matter to me, or did it slip your mind like it did Cordelia's?"

"Buffy, I'm sorry," he said swiftly, focusing all his attention on his beloved.  "After all that I'd done to Dru, the list of what I didn't do seemed sort of insignificant."

"This doesn't make any sense, Angel," Buffy protested.  "You guys were together for decades.  You mean to tell me you never even tried?  And what about Spike?  He must have known, so why was always so jealous of your relationship?"  She shook her head stubbornly.  "It just doesn't wash."

No matter how much she wanted it to.

"Spike believed what we wanted him to believe," Angel answered patiently.  "It was a way to pass the time, and I admit it was kind of fun keeping him off balance."  He grinned at the memories; they was just about the only part of being evil he didn't regret.  Much.  "All right, it was a lot of fun."

"Angel..."

"So we talked a good game in front of him," he continued, returning his attention to the present, and his beloved by his side.  "You know how easy it is to get into that type of wordplay that's almost foreplay."

Buffy blushed, staring intently at Angel's hands resting over her own.  "This isn't about our past," she muttered, "just yours."

"Did you ever see me kiss her?" he probed.  "Even after I lost my soul, I mean.  No, of course you didn't...because I didn't.  And if you asked Spike if he ever saw us having sex instead of just talking about it...well, he'd probably tell you he did, but he'd be lying just to hurt you."

She wanted so badly to believe him.  After all the times he had shielded Dru, and all the agony he had suffered over her eventual fate, Buffy needed to believe that it was Angel's innate decency, and his massive guilt complex, that drove him to such lengths.  After all, he had killed Darla to save Buffy; why would one ex rate the stake and not the other?  But wanting didn't always make things so, and she was almost afraid to hope.

"So it was all just some big game, and you never thought to let me in on the rules?"

She had learned the Slayer game plan early: when in doubt, go on the offensive.

Angel grimaced, both at her tone, and at his timing; this was not exactly a conversation he wanted to be having in a crowded club surrounded by their nearest and dearest.

"I didn't sleep with her," he reiterated.  "Before I turned her the thought occurred to me; I admit that.  But as I was breaking her down, I decided to make her into my 'child,' and that changed everything.  Like I said, even my demon isn't that twisted."

"I just can't believe you never told me.  Is there anything else you didn't think was important that you'd like to share with the class?"

He lifted one hand to stroke her cheek.  "That's what this whole marriage idea is about.  Sharing all the little details, learning new things about each other every day."

She fought against the pull of his sweet words; she had a right to her anger, even if that anger was swimming upstream against her overwhelming feeling of 'Yay!'

"Angel, this wasn't a little detail."

"If you look at the big picture, I think it was."  His palm stilled on her cheek, infusing her face with his coolness.  "You said it yourself; I have a long past.  And most of it was spent without you, because even your grandparents weren't blips on the radar yet during my wilder days."  Angel's thumb slipped to the side and gently brushed across her lips.  "But my future belongs to you.  And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Buffy gazed deep into his eyes, searching for, and finding, the same unstinting honesty he always gave to her.  In the past he might have evaded some issues, and shielded her from certain things, but he had never lied about his feelings for her.  And she knew that when all else failed her, she could rely on that honesty.

"Me too," she relented, leaning into his caress as one more ghost slipped away into the mist.

"Uh oh, we have a PDA Alert," Xander moaned.  "Someone break the mood quick." 

Buffy smiled as she stood up, still holding Angel's other hand.  "Why don't we just move the mood to the dance floor?  I think I hear a slow song starting."

"Mmm, dancing with music.  Sounds very exotic."  Angel grinned back at her, allowing himself to be led out into the crowd.  As soon as they reached the dance floor, however, he took charge, pulling Buffy firmly into his embrace as he guided them through the throng of people.

Cordelia watched them with an unexpectedly fond smile.  "That's what I want someday," she murmured, scarcely aware she was speaking out loud.

"Don't worry, darlin'.  A few more things to work out, and that could be us."  Doyle slid his arm around Cordelia and gently squeezed her shoulder.  "Give or take some height and hair color."

She glanced at his merry face, her own mood suddenly serious.  "You will talk to him, won't you?  Soon?"

Doyle shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  "I know I should have said something before," he began uncomfortably, "but the time wasn't right."

"And the excuse for today would be?" she asked archly.  "He's okay now.  And you'll be okay too, once you tell him."

"It's been sort of nice the past few days, not having to think about it," he admitted.  "Made me feel like my old self."

"Well, time for the new and improved self," she said, the briskness of her tone not matching her tender gaze.  "I'm tired of lying to him, to both of them."  She flashed an impudent grin.  "Makes me feel like my dad."

"Oh not that.  Anything but that," Xander groaned.  "No more father issues, please.  Been there, angsted that."  He rubbed his hands together as he leaned in for the kill.  "Now as far as this great big 'thing' you have to tell him, Doyle; why not try it out on the rest of us."  He looked to the others for support.  "We're bored enough to listen, aren't we guys?"

Doyle shook his head, smiling at Xander's blatant attempt to pry.  "Sorry, mate.  This is between me and Angel."

* * * * *

On the dance floor, held fast in Angel's embrace, Buffy felt worlds away from any problems, big or small.  When they had first arrived at The Bronze, she couldn't wait to leave.  But here, now, she couldn't imagine anything more peaceful or relaxing than drifting around a worn tile floor in the middle of a crowd of strangers, lost in her lover's arms.

It wasn't until her parents and Giles interrupted them to say goodnight that she realized how late it had become, and how desperate the need to get on the road was.  Sunrise was only a few short hours away, and she and Angel were almost as many hours away from their new home.  This was not an acceptable state of affairs.

After two-and-a-half centuries of darkness, Buffy was not about to let Angel's first glimpse of the sun be from the freeway off-ramp.

* * * * *

To Be Continued